#sex doesn't solve all the problems

[mostremote]

Shivering Season spoiler teasers~

Chapter Title: Liabilities

[little-pondhead]

Fenton Family on Vacation (part 2)

Original Post⬅️ ➡️Part One

Danielle Madeline Fenton was having a good week. 

Her dad, Danny, had convinced his parents her grandparents!! to go on vacation. And not just any vacation! But one to a whole new dimension!!!!

Elle didn't know much about different dimensions, but a quick visit to Ghost Writer with Fright Knight as backup let her learn all she needed to know, which wasn't that much. Everything was just so different depending on the place! It didn’t matter. She knew about the planning waaaaay beforehand, her dad couldn't keep anything from her, and it was so hard not to run around talking about it. She was just so excited! Exasperated, Danny had distracted her easily with Esperanto lessons with Wulf, self-defense lessons with Pandora, and emergency medicine lessons with Frostbite. Some of it was kind of boring, but Elle understood. She was now one of two princesses of the Ghost Zone, and her dad was kind of paranoid. 

She was too, which was why she went along with it for so long. But eventually, Elle was ready to tear her hair out and flew straight to the living realm, prepared to chew Danny's head off from frustration. He curbed her with a sneaky grin and a pile of papers as an early Goo-Day gift.  Government papers stating Danielle Madeline Fenton was officially a real person. Of course, Danny wasn't listed anywhere; he was too young to have a kid who was as big as Elle. But her grandparents had agreed to be her official guardians for her. 

Elle didn't have to hide anymore!

Everyone celebrated that night. Grandma Maddie even came up from the basement for half an hour, dazed and exhausted. (She'd been working non-stop.) Grandpa Jack decided to have bonding time, so he took her to the mall a day before they were scheduled to leave. 

("No granddaughter of mine is going to be forced to wear a hazmat suit unless she wants to-no matter how fashionable they may be!")

Elle had a blast at the mall. She's been to several before, but it wasn't the same. She felt on top of the world, strutting around with the knowledge that she legally existed now. The shame of being different evaporated when Danny handed her a birth certificate and social security card. Elle's excitement was contagious as several tiny blob ghosts started following her from shop to shop. 

Grandpa Jack had just chuckled, ruffled her hair, and suggested getting a bag to hold her new friends. So they did. They got a new boo-pack for her ghost friends, some light-up sneakers she constantly stomped in, a sparkly tutu-practically a whole new wardrobe. They ended the day getting something to eat from Nasty Burger. There, she saw her new Aunt Sam and Uncle Tucker. (They insisted on the names.) Grandpa Jack beckoned them to join, and Elle spent the rest of the meal excitedly showing off her new clothes. 

(Don't tell anyone this, but Elle saw how her aunt and uncle looked at Danny when they were over at the house. She bet Aunt Jazz twenty bucks they'd confess by the end of August.)

She reveled in the attention. They cared about her. They listened to her. Elle wasn't just a tool to be used and thrown away; these people genuinely loved her, not just because she was Danny's clone. She was now her own person and made a meaningful impact on these people's lives. And now she was going on a week-long trip with her new family?? Elle was over the moon! (Literally. Danny had to chase her to the moon and back to get her to calm down. She brought back a moon rock for her grandma. Aunt Jazz scolded them both.)

So that's probably why, after flying through the portal at first chance, the realization that her family wasn't there with her terrified her. 

Traveling to another dimension was just like going anywhere through the Ghost Zone. If Elle didn't know any better, she probably would have slipped through the wrong portal long ago and landed far from home. The rush of noise that filled her ears and the swirl of greens around her was all familiar. 

And then it wasn't. The portal started to...change. The noise was subtle, like one static radio station being switched to another. The colors around her became a deep blue and then midnight purple. Wait, now it was red? Or was it orange? No, it was yellow, then green again. The colors kept changing. It made her nervous, but Elle rationalized that it was just a side effect of the portal. This may be why rips to other dimensions differed from regular portals. It wasn't just the vibe; the whole thing physically changed the deeper you went. 

Yeah, okay. This was fine. 

Then Elle realized she couldn't hear Danny behind her. She knows he followed her. She felt it. Heard it. They'd never lost each other in a portal like this, so where was he? A strike of fear shot through her core. Where was her dad? She exited the strange portal before she got an answer. 

The portal spat her out several feet above the ground. Too short of a distance for her to catch herself but still too far for someone normal to come out standing without injury. She faceplanted on the asphalt with a comically loud SMACK.

Yes, it hurt like all hell. Elle thanked the Ancients she was still in her ghost form, or this landing would have been more painful as a human. What hurt her the worst, however, was some asshole tripping over her limp body almost as soon as she landed. It felt like someone was going in to kick a soccer ball, and now she was the ball. All she heard was a panicked "SHIT!" as the person tumbled to the ground and proceeded to eat asphalt. Heh, like her. 

"Ugh..." Elle groaned and lifted her head. Tiny rocks and bits of the road were embedded into her face, barely deep enough to break the skin. She was already healing, anyways. The growing bruise on her side would take more time, however. She glanced over and noticed the person who had just decided to make out with the road. She saw red. Holy shit, were they bleeding?`

No, wait. Is that a spandex suit? Was this person wearing a full-ass spandex suit?? Elle bolted upright and looked around. She was lying in some open plaza in the middle of a city. The whole place had a thick layer of ice and frost that was not due to weather conditions. Elle would've thought that her dad had somehow landed before her and decided to turn the place into his personal snow globe, except some winter-themed maniac standing to her left was obviously the culprit.

They stared at each other. Elle in her kind-of superhero suit and boo-pack, hair wild with rocks still stuck to her face. Snow Guy, who looked like he was trying to cosplay Frostbite, with a worryingly large set of guns pointing straight at her. They reminded her of the Fenton blasters a bit. Not the best memory.

"Uh...hi?" She tried. A few blob ghosts whipped around her head, chittering in confusion.

"Where the FUCK did you come from?" Yeti Cosplayer asked, incredulous. 

Elle wobbled back into the air. She literally glowed; no point in hiding her powers of flight. "Hey, watch your fucking language, dude. Children are present."

"Wha-??" Elle ignored Winter Lover, turning over the Dude Who Tripped to check him over. Placing two fingers on the guy’s neck, a sense of panic sparked within her. Is the human heartbeat supposed to beat this fast?? She was half ghost and a clone to boot, so Danny's and her hearts beat much slower. And Elle took medical lessons from a yeti. They had mainly focused on the ghost side of her biology. Their studies on mortal medicine had been few and far between. 

Should she take this man to the hospital?? She barely had any money. Definitely none of that "insurance" her grandparents talked about sometimes. (But wasn't insurance for cars? The news always mentioned it when they put out the Fenton Driving Alert.) The dude's pulse was really fast. Faster than she felt comfortable with. Was his heart exploding??? Elle suddenly felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack. Five minutes into a new world, and she kills someone, great. 

A whine drew her attention back to Worst Elsa Ever. His guns were charging up, a snarl on his face. "I'm not above freezing a kid." He said. "Back off or else."

Elle was bordering on terrified now. She tried not to show it. This was a new place; she had obviously landed in the middle of some superpowered pissing match and knocked out the guy who was probably the hero in this situation. What would Phantom do? 

What would her dad do?

He'd shoot off a witty one-liner before forcing his opponent into the thermos for Soup Time™. 

Hauling the (hopefully) hero onto her shoulders in a fireman's carry, Elle dodged a blast of ice coming her way. December Fucker swerved around to keep track of her. Too slow. 

"You gotta chill out, man!" Elle quipped. She continued dodging shots of ice, slowly getting closer to Evil Frosty. It was a struggle to maneuver with a whole ass man on her shoulders, but she managed. "Maybe a little shock therapy will get your Christmas spirit going!"

"It's Aug-AAAAAUGH!" Bad Santa cut himself off with a scream of agony. Elle had rushed forward and planted both hands firmly on the villain's back when he turned once more to keep sight of her. See, while Danny Phantom had an ice core and Vlad Plasmius had a fire core, Dani Phantom had an electric core. In a cruel twist of fate, Elle discovered she could control the one element that had killed her father. No matter how sad the thought was, she was currently using this fact to channel a lot of lightning into the body below her fingertips. How much was a lot? She couldn’t tell; Elle barely knew how to change a lightbulb without breaking something. She didn't know what "voltage" was. 

He was still screaming. Was this how Danny felt? How he screamed? She didn’t like it. Hopefully this didn’t kill the man. Dani just wanted to knock him out. To put him to sleep.

The electricity coursing down her arms beat in tune with her core. She focused solely on her opponent-which was a compliment; the Box Ghost could probably beat up this Snowball. Some distant voice in her head told her to pay attention to her surroundings more. And what about the man she was carrying? He had to be getting pumped full of electricity, too. But he wasn’t screaming. Oh well, no backing out now. Dani's hands started to heat up to an uncomfortable degree, burning tiny impressions into the thick parka. 

Finally, the villain collapsed to the ground onto his side. His voice was raw, and his grip on the guns loosened. Dani kicked them away from his reach and stopped the attack. 

"Sorry about that." Elle started floating in the air again, gripping the man she was carrying. She tried to hide the tremor in her voice. The blob ghosts attached themselves to her hair, ready for a ride. "On the plus side, a few of your screws may have been knocked back into place from the electricity. Anyways, see you later, shitty Ice Prince!" Then, with her passengers barely secured, she took off flying in a random direction, not bothering to go invisible until she was several buildings away. Leaving a (literally) shocked and groaning supervillain behind her. 

And oh, Ancients, please let that man be a supervillain. If she had just attacked the hero, Danny would never allow her to forget it. 

-----

It took a bit, but Dani eventually found someplace safe to set down the Dude Who Tripped. (She needed to work on her naming sense. It was as bad as her dad's.) A random alley on the outskirts of the city would work well, she decided. It was very far away from the fight. The villain shouldn't show up anytime soon. She chose one behind some fast food joint, slowly releasing her invisibility. A sizeable green dumpster sat near the end of the alley, angled away from the public. Perfect. It was mostly full of soft-rotten, ew-food scraps and lots of cardboard from product deliveries. Maybe there was some glass mixed in, but Dani made quick work of the cardboard boxes with her claws and laid it down on top of the trash heap. A few adjustments ensured that the dude would fit in reasonably comfortably. And, oh, look! Handcuffs! Why did they have pink fur on them? Wasn't that against the main point? Criminals surely wouldn't take cops seriously if those were standard.

Dani shrugged. At the very least, she could give herself a head start. She moved the super's shoulders farther so his hand could reach a nearby pipe and attached the handcuffs. It wasn't a thick pipe, but it looked like a vent stack system her grandma had shown her once. Hopefully, this hero was against property damage, unlike her. 

You can't care about the laws you're breaking if you don't know they exist!

Taking a step back, Dani surveyed her work one last time. The dude was still unconscious, and one of his ankles was starting to swell like a melon. Probably the foot he’d kicked her with. Nothing she could do for him there. Oh! Dani swung her boo-pack around, disturbing the blob ghosts resting inside. She dug through for some sticky notes she kept on hand for her Aunt Jazz and a pencil. No pencil, just a sparkly ink pen Danny had gifted her. That'll work. 

It took her a minute to figure out what to say and even longer to write it. One of her bigger blob ghosts, Buffy (sue her, she likes the show), traced her words with curiosity. It hummed, phasing through Dani's hand to express its fascination with the pom-pom at the end of the pen. 

Dani giggled, ripping the note away from the rest and sticking it onto the super's forehead. Right between the eyes. "You can't have it, Buffy. Dad gave this pen to me."

Buffy drooped. 

"But you can play with it until I need it again." Dani offered.

Buffy perked up. The conversation drew the attention of the other blob ghosts who were swirling around, and they soon swarmed Buffy and Dani, chittering for their own toy to play with. 

The youngest Fenton giggled again and rose slowly into the air. Her core began humming faster. It was going on dusk, and some part of her was still panicking about the absence of her family. Well, maybe it was just a time difference? They did all enter at a separate times, technically. But what if she was in the completely wrong dimension? What if they couldn’t find her?

Dani took a deep breath, despite not needing it. She was okay. Her blob ghosts were okay. Aunt Jazz taught her how to calm herself down from a panic attack, and that what she was doing now.

What were five things she could see?

She could see Buffy, the blob ghost. A greasy burger wrapper trapped under a rock by her feet. The back door to the food place that said “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in big red letters. Dani looked up, and saw the fading sunset reflect off the clouds. There were telephone wires everywhere.

Four things she could touch?

She fiddled with the star charm on her hoodie. That was one. The solid ground beneath her feet, wind on her face. The ghost were phasing through her; she could feel their emotions.

Three things she could hear?

The heartbeat of the city. Her core humming. A cat fight in the next alley.

Two things she could smell?

Rotting food and a little bit of blood from the hero. He’d gotten a bloody nose at some point.

One thing she could taste.

The wonderful cocoa only the yetis could make. The chocolate still lingered on her tongue.

Alright, okay. She was calm. A little spooked, but having a panic attack wouldn’t help. What were her options?

She could explore the city. She had landed in a large metropolitan area; buildings went on for miles. Getting a lay of the land might help if she runs into more supers. The last guy was mean. 

And superheroes. How cool was that?! Dani had never seen any other superhero besides her dad.  Dani didn't count herself as one, not really. Red Huntress was more friendly these days, but Dani was still wary of the anti-hero. And like hell, her mom, her creator, Vlad, was a hero.

So she decided to go exploring. The night was coming, and if she stuck around, hopefully, Dani would get a glimpse of the bright green light signaling the arrival of her family. 

-----

Flash had one hell of a headache. Coming to was even more painful. He felt like he had gotten struck by lighting all over again and passed out on a shattered window. His ankle hurt like a bitch. He coughed, blinking furiously, and tried to rub his eyes. Something jerked his right hand to a stop. Flash realized a few things all at the same time. 

One, his hand was restricted because someone had used a pair of fuzzy handcuffs to attach him to a nearby pipe. Second, he was in a dumpster. He felt like he had passed out on a glass mound because that's what he was sitting on. Someone had tried to shield the worst of the trash from him. Huge pieces of cardboard were arranged around him in a way that was too obvious. Someone had moved it. No one threw away cardboard boxes like this-so hastily shredded and in the shape of a bed. However, the boxes didn't protect Flash against the wet things in the dumpster. Or the smell. He was ninety percent sure he was next to some rotting bananas. 

Lastly, there was a bright green sticky note on his forehead. The words were written in sparkly pink ink. 

Sorry I tripped you, Mr. Dude. But I can't afford the insurance if I take you to the hospital so hopefully we'll never see each other again:)

-Elle

"Shit." Flash groaned. He struggled to sit up more, grabbing the edge of the dumpster, but his hand slipped on something wet he didn't want to think about. Flash yelped and fell back right as a fast food employee entered the alley through a side door he hadn't seen. Time seemed to freeze as the hero and civilian stared at each other. One, lying in a dumpster with a swollen foot, a dazed look, and a hand connected to a pipe via pink fuzzy handcuffs. The other, wearing a grease-covered apron, hat with ketchup stains, eyebags for days, and hauling an overstuffed garbage bag that was double-bagged. 

Somehow, Flash was ashamed of being caught like this. This employee probably thought up some wild theory about Flash being a wild partygoer, and this was just a "fun" time gone wrong. 

His thoughts were confirmed when the employee whipped out their phone to snap a picture, a shit-eating grin on their face. Garbage completely forgotten. 

-----

Edit: "She tried to hide the remote in her voice." Motherfucker I meant "tremor," and you know it.

-----

@samgirl98 @scaehime @edgemcjee @nonbinary-disaster @beautifulmomenttodrawblank @kyrianclawraith @ectoplasm024 @cottonscrambles @sarcastic-yami

@akikoyuii

[suddenrundown]

have you ever watched two men fight over zendaya for 2 hours and felt like it wasn't always about zendaya. fellas? fellas is it gay....

[fooltofancy]

too many words in zenos yae galvus, stormblood feels like a fucking. exorcism.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

......I can't remember which things have still been an issue lately n which ones he's already dropped.

[mortalityplays]

the way people on here talk about the porn ban makes me completely fucking insane honestly.

yes I would love a return to the old ways.

no that isn't something staff have control over, it's a systemic issue with puritanical groups intentionally strangling online infrastructure to make adult content impossible to platform.

no that doesn't mean the ban was value neutral and I will fucking kill you with my mind if you start going on about how 'it just meant all the annoying people left'

sex workers left, and so did the high spending customers who made tumblr a viable platform for a lot of other small creators

a lot of sex educators and queer outreach groups also left, and nobody seems to remember that they were a huge part of the landscape here

you have to take the eradication of sexual content from online spaces seriously as an issue that affects more than whether you personally can post catgirl balls on one specific platform

there is no 'good social media' in 2023 that will ever be equipped to solve this problem until the financial/cultural issue is addressed. decentralisation is your best bet. sorry.

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU BREAK UP AND MAKE UP — NANAMI KENTO

summary: fed up with your stagnant marriage, you serve your husband divorce papers as a final cry to show you're tired of his behaviour. but you forget that, although he doesn't always show it, your husband never goes down without a fight.

w/c: 3.5k

cw: angst to fluff, nanami may come across as an asshole but he means it with love, plot with a dash of porn at the end, so mdni!!, semi-public sex (you fuck in an elevator) afab!reader

authors note: first fic on the new blog (wild) but I actually really fw this fic, hope you all do to. not fully proof read so ignore mistakes!!

nanami's footsteps echo through the dimly lit hallway as he approaches your apartment. his heart pounds against his ribs, a mixture of irritation, confusion, and hurt swirling within him. he had seen the divorce papers, his name scrawled across the top in bold letters, and the shock has left him simmering with resentment.

with a determined exhale, he raises his hand and knocks on your door. the door swings open, revealing his surprised expression. his eyes widen as he takes in your clenched jaw and the tension etched into your features.

"kento," your voice wavers, a mix of surprise and something he can't quite place.

"i didn't expect to find divorce papers on my desk at work," he bites out, his tone sharp and impatient.

your cheeks flush slightly, your gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet his stare. "it got your attention, didn't it?" you retort, your voice tinged with exasperation.

"attention?" nanami's voice drips with sarcasm. "you think serving me divorce papers at my job is the way to solve our problems?"

"you've been distant, nanami," your voice holds a trace of weariness. "we've been living separate lives for weeks. i needed you to know that something has to change."

nanami's irritation flares, his patience wearing thin. "dropping divorce papers on my desk is your way of communication now?"

"you've brushed me off every time i've tried to talk," your voice holds a hint of frustration, your eyes betraying a simmering anger. "maybe this is the only language you'll understand."

nanami's annoyance collides with a stubborn resistance, his grip on his emotions hardening. "you know i've been busy," he states curtly.

"busy ignoring me," your voice is edged with bitterness, your expression growing weary.

nanami's frustration deepens, and he steps closer, his gaze unwavering. "you could have talked to me."

you look away, your jaw clenched. "tried that." he reaches out to you but you brush him off, backing out of his space. 

you didn’t know what the exact turning point of your marriage was, but once it came it was overwhelming, swept you both up in a whirl of frustration. nanami didn’t feel like yours anymore – he was a shell of the guy you married. there were no more morning kisses, gentle touches, or late-night talks that once filled your lives. the silence in your shared space became a chasm, widening with each passing day. you pleaded for his attention, for a connection, but it was as if he was slipping away, becoming a stranger.

"you’ve taken this game of yours too far," he scoffs, disbelief and a hint of frustration in his voice. nanami had never imagined it would come to this – the thought of you leaving him was a reality he was struggling to accept. he wasn't blind to the shifts in your relationship, the growing distance, but he had convinced himself that it was a phase. a bad period that could be smoothed out with a little time and patience.

when you gathered your belongings and walked away, nearly a month ago now, he allowed you to go, certain that this was just a phase, a moment of frustration that would pass.

"i thought we were just going through a rough patch," he continues, his voice carrying a self-assured edge. "didn't think you'd take it to this extreme. you really tried to embarrass me at work with that shit, everybody saw y’know, my colleagues, my boss.”

your eyes narrow at his response, the frustration that had simmered inside you starting to boil over. "It's not a game, nanami. this isn't some ploy for attention."

“so you’ve given up on me then? on us?” he asks incredulously, stepping closer to you, studying your face.

your gaze holds his, determination mixing with the hurt that still lingers. "i didn't want to give up, but i can't keep holding on to something that's slipping away."

nanami's eyes search yours, a moment of vulnerability flickering across his features before he masks it with his trademark confidence. "you think i'll just let you go that easily?"

you meet his gaze head-on, the tension between you palpable. "it's not about whether you'll 'let' me. it's about whether we're both willing to put in the effort to fix what's broken."

his smirk fades, his gaze intense as he studies you. "and? are you willing?"

nanami didn’t realise how silent his home was without you in it. when he returned, he sat in silence, the weight of your ultimatum sinking in. ‘it’s not a game nanami’ your previous words repeatedly echo through his mind. he had always prided himself on his rationality, on his ability to see things logically, but when it came to you, it was an unfamiliar territory,

he had grown accustomed to the routine of his life, the predictable patterns that had lulled him into a sense of complacency. he had convinced himself that the distance between you two would eventually close on its own. and now, confronted with the reality of your departure, he couldn't deny the truth any longer.

“you’ve really fucked this up nanamin,” gojo lectures over the phone to nanami, “you deserved getting embarrassed at your job.”

“i didn’t call you to be told off,” nanami says, pinching his nose “i called for you to tell me what to do.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” gojo questions, “you know what she wants.”

“If i did, i wouldn’t be on the phone with you, would i?” nanami snaps, frustration brewing.

“she wants the guy she married.” gojo states, ignoring nanami’s tone.

“I am that guy,” there was a pause, as if nanami could see gojo’s pointed look through the phone, “well i thought i was that guy. but i know she doesn’t want to divorce me for real, she loves me.”

“does she though?” gojo questions, “remember nanamin, i was there when you guys got married, the way she looked at you then… isn’t how she looks at you now.”

nanami ends the call abruptly, pacing around his living room. gojo’s words sticking in his mind. he had reached out to his friend seeking guidance, but it’s becoming evident that the answers he’s seeking might not be as straightforward as he had hoped.

gojo’s words struck a nerve, he was right. nanami remembers the early days of your relationship, the excitement, the adoration - the way your eyes would light up when you looked at him. but now, the distance, the hurt, it was evident.

he was going to make things right, he had to. you were his wife - his soulmate. he’s known that from the day he laid eyes on you, and he doesn’t want to let you out of his grasp.

it had been months since you served nanami the divorce papers – he was stalling. you couldn’t deny that he was trying though, the daily flowers that you received, the take out that was delivered to your house without you asking, was a testament to that.

you got daily calls, texts and emails from him asking you about your day, about your wellbeing. he was showing you that he cared, and it  was as if he was courting you all over again. 

his efforts didn’t go unnoticed, your friends and family could see the subtle smiles you couldn’t suppress and the softening of your eyes when his name was mentioned. they hoped for your sake that nanami would keep consistent.

you felt hopeful, and that made you feel dumb. 

but you just needed one more push to feel secure, to feel like this would work – would last. which is why you were standing in the lobby of your lawyers office, your feet tapping nervously against the floor as you wait for your husband to arrive. 

“hi, my love,” he greets, the familiar pet name coming out like a whisper, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, “i guess we should head up there.”

“yeah, lead the way,” you say, your tone warmer than you expect as you take in his appearance. he was dressed in one of his signature crisp suits, in fact it was your favourite suit of his, and he was wearing the hell out of it.

you follow him to the elevator, the hallway stretching ahead as you both walk side by side. you haven’t felt like this in a long time, like a pair, a union. nanami’s presence beside you is both familiar and foreign, a reminder of the life you once shared and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

“we don’t have to go this meeting you know,” nanami forces out, but you ignore him pushing the button of the floor you need to be at.

“love listen, it doesn’t have to be this way,” he persists.

“and what way is it kento?” you argue, “just because you’ve been sending me flowers, and asking me how i am each day, doesn’t mean you’ve magically became husband material again.”

“trust me, i know that.” he scoffs, “you’re a real piece of work bu-”

“and you’re a real piece of sh-” you start, stopping yourself as you realise that you were the one going too far.

“as i was saying,” he continues, “you’re a real piece of work, but you’re worth it. you always have been, from the moment i met you i knew you were going to cause me trouble but i ended up loving you for that.”

“well tell that to your actions for the past–” you pause, feeling the elevator coming to an abrupt stop, “why did the elevator just close… the last thing i need right now is to be trapped.”

nanami's gaze shifts to the control panel, his eyebrows furrowing. "looks like we're stuck."

you glance at him, your heart racing for a different reason now. "stuck?"

nanami's eyes meet yours, his smirk undeniably playful. "Seems like fate has its own plans for us," he remarks, his tone holding a hint of amusement.

you roll your eyes, unable to suppress a small smile despite the circumstances. "great, just what I needed today."

he chuckles, his fingers expertly unbuttoning his cuffs as he begins to roll up his sleeves. "well, at least we have some time to ourselves. might as well make the most of it."

your eyebrows raise at his nonchalant attitude, your surprise momentarily replacing the irritation. "are you serious right now? we're stuck in an elevator, and you're acting like it's a casual evening at home?"

nanami's grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "why not? it's not like we can do much about the situation. might as well enjoy each other's company."

you huff out a breath, torn between annoyance and amusement. as you observe him making himself comfortable on the elevator floor, you can't help but shake your head. "you're unbelievable."

he pats the spot next to him, his inviting gesture a silent challenge. "come on, it's not so bad. we can reminisce about old times, or argue about who's the better cook."

you find yourself hesitating, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. with a resigned sigh, you take a seat beside him, your shoulder brushing against his. "old times, huh? you mean the days when you used to bring me breakfast in bed?"

nanami's smile softens, a nostalgic gleam in his eyes. "yeah, and you'd always complain that the eggs were overcooked."

“because they always were.” you retort, with a chuckle. you missed this, being in his space without any of the extra noise.

“i can cook breakfast for you again,” he proposes, “if you just come home.”

“kento i don’t know if i-”

“do you remember our first date,” he interrupts, “my car broke down on the way home from the restaurant, so i put you on my back and carried you for 5 miles.”

“you carried my heels too,” you add, laughing softly to yourself at the memory. your first date with nanami solidified that he was the man for you, the way he shamelessly gave you a piggy back ride, heels and all.

nanami’s gaze locks with yours, his fingers gently grazing your hand “it was worth every step.”

a warmth spreads through your chest, a mix of nostalgia and a newfound vulnerability. "you used to be so sweet," you murmur, your voice laced with a bittersweet longing.

his fingers inch closer, your hands almost brushing against each other. "i can still be sweet, you know," he replies softly, his gaze never leaving yours.

your heart skips a beat, the air around you growing charged with unspoken emotions. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he tilts his head, his lips curving into a genuine smile. "maybe I've been out of practice."

as the silence settles between you, the confined space of the elevator seems to amplify the intensity of your connection. the past rushes back, the moments that you shared, the love that once flourished. but you're both here now, in the present, faced with the choice of whether to rebuild or let go.

nanami's fingers finally find yours, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your veins. "i want to make it right, to fix us," he admits, vulnerability lacing his words.

you meet his gaze, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. "It's not that simple, kento. we can't just go back to the way things were."

his thumb traces a soothing pattern on the back of your hand. "i know. but maybe we can start anew. rediscover each other, learn from our mistakes." 

you study his face, the sincerity in his eyes making your heart ache. maybe he had changed, maybe he was willing to put in the effort to mend what was broken. maybe, just maybe, there was hope for your relationship after all.

the elevator's walls seem to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this suspended moment. The past and the present merge, and as you search his eyes for any signs of deceit, you find none. only a genuine desire to make things right.

"i've missed you," he whispers, his voice holding a vulnerability that resonates within you.

“you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip on his hand tightening. "i've missed you too."

nanami's fingers burned with a mixture of yearning and desperation as they reached out to trace the curve of your cheek. his touch was electric, sending a surge of heat through your veins. your breath hitched in response, your heart pounding against your ribs as his thumb brushed over your skin.

his touch was no longer tentative; it was a declaration, a silent proclamation of his desire. the air seemed to crackle with tension as his gaze bore into yours, his eyes dark and smouldering.

"i've wanted to do this for so long," he confesses, his voice a low growl sending a shiver down your spine.

his fingers slide from your cheek to your jawline, his touch igniting a fire within you. the space between you seemed to vanish as he closed in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. your eyes flutter closed as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, his touch setting your skin ablaze.

and then, his lips crash onto yours with a fierce hunger that leaves you breathless. it was a kiss that ignites a wildfire, a blaze of emotions that had been suppressed for far too long. his lips moved against yours with a fervour that matched the intensity of his touch, a dance of passion and longing.

his arms encircle you, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepens. his mouth moves over yours with a possessive urgency, his tongue seeking entrance and igniting a fiery tangle of sensations. the taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mixture of desire and nostalgia.

your fingers claw at the fabric of his shirt, needing to feel him, to ground yourself in this moment. his body presses against yours, every contour and ridge igniting a cascade of sensations that pooled between your thighs.

his hands trail down your back, the touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. when he cups your hips and pulls you impossibly closer, a moan escaped your lips, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss.

as the kiss broke, your foreheads rest against each other, your breaths ragged and laboured. the air around you was thick with desire, the space between you charged with an unspoken promise.

"i need you," he murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desperation.

your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his head down for another searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of pent-up longing, of a love that refused to be extinguished. your bodies moulded together as if they were meant to fit perfectly, every touch a symphony of need and surrender.

“tell me you need me, love,” he gasps out, and you nod against him, “no i got to hear you say it.”

“i need you, i do,” you whimper against his lips, as his fingers slip below the waistline of your skirt, gently grazing your clit, “k-kento we can’t, have you forgotten where we are?”

“don’t tell me you’ve become shy whilst we’ve been separated,” he chuckles, smirking as he continues to toy with your pussy “you don’t remember all the times i’d have you bent over my desk in my office?” 

you bite your lip at the memory, feeling yourself get wetter as nanami’s fingers enter you, his thumb pressing against your clit. nanami knew you inside and out, he knew how exactly where to touch, how to get you whine and writhe against him as you are now.

he took advantage of your exposed neck, biting and sucking against your collarbone as he continues to stroke your cunt. you were gushing over him, repeatedly clenching against his fingers, as he twists and pushes in and out of you. 

“you always get so wet for me,” he praises, pulling his fingers out of you, his digits glistening coated with you. you can smell your own arousal from his hand as he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at his lust filled eyes. “ride me.”

you didn’t need to be asked twice, you discard your skirt off on the elevator floor, as he unzips his pants. he strokes his dick as it gets harder just at the sight of you. he was back was against the wall, his legs sprawled out widely, the perfect opening for you to climb right into his lap.

you slid right onto him, letting out an exhale as he fills you. he presses a sloppy kiss against your lips as your cunt grips onto him. your hands dig into his shoulder as you bounce up and down on him, his hands having your hips in a firm hold to keep you in place.

nanami couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, the way you were taking him in like you needed him, was a sight he could never get tired off. you were so pretty, all fucked out on his dick, your eyes glossed over in a daze, the only thing you were focused on was him. 

“d’you see now why i could never let you go?” he teases, thrusting upwards into you as one of his hands trails up to caress your cheek, his thumb parting your lips, “because this pussy’s mine.” 

he quickens his pace, eager to get you to come undone all over him, the way your movements became slower, lazier, he could tell you were nearly at your peak. you bite on his thumb, suppressing your moans, as his merciless thrust begin to become too much. 

“m’close kento, i-it’s too much,” 

“I know my love, you’re taking me so well,” he praises, pushing deeper into you, “just hold out for a bit longer.”

“i-i can’t i-” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you feel yourself release all over him. nanami groans out his head collapsing in your cleavage as he finishes inside of you, your juices mixing with his. 

the only sounds that can be heard are you both trying to catch your breath. nanami keeps his head pressed against your tits, still inside of you. you toy with his hair pushing his hair back to leave a gentle kiss against his head, his arms tighten around you and it was as if you could feel him smile against you. you knew from then that you and your husband was going to be okay.

“kento?” your voice wavers, a mixture of uncertainty and hope lacing your words.

“yes? my love,” he responds, his gaze locked onto yours.

your heart flutters as you gather your courage, the weight of the past and the possibilities of the future intertwining in your chest. "I think we can cancel that meeting with my lawyer."

nanami's smile broadens, but it's different this time – it's a smile that carries the weight of understanding and a newfound determination. he holds your gaze, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a silent promise of change and rediscovery.

you eventually got out of that elevator and you didn’t go home to your separate apartments, you went home, together. 

extra an: so guys what did you think?? first time writing for smut, and for nanami so if it’s shit spare me. but I love him and I’d never divorce him. DIVIDERS FROM @/CAFEKITSUNE !!

[allbark-no-bite]

things friends do.

felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)

summary: things friends do include but are not limited to: sleeping in each other’s bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other

warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex

author’s note: y’all i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in

————————————————————————

You were not in love with Felix Catton.

And Felix Catton was not in love with you.

He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.

The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?

Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.

But this was Felix.

Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.

—

The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.

To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.

After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.

A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.

"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.

"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.

His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.

His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.

In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.

You shriek again. "Felix!"

Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.

It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.

His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.

"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"

Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.

Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."

Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."

He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.

It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.

As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"

Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."

You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.

Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."

"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."

"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.

You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.

Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.

And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.

—

It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.

You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.

Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.

Maybe.

It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.

You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.

He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.

"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"

You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.

"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.

Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.

You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.

"Why haven't we had sex?"

He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"

While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.

You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.

Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.

Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.

"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.

"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.

His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.

The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."

All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.

Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.

"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.

Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.

Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.

Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he is— incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tip— but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.

His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."

You nod as best you can in his hold.

You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.

The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.

Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."

You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.

Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.

You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.

“There we go,” he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.

Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately you’re coming, clenching around him as you do so.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When he’s finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.

When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You can’t help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows what’s so funny but because you’re laughing.

You’re laughing and he loves you.

He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.

“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, looking down at you.

You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. “About what?”

“(Y/n), we’ve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.”

Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. “Farleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?”

Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. “I wouldn’t fuck Oliver.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Yeah you would.”

Felix barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I would,” he agrees.

[eclipseslayer]

MY GIRLFRIEND IS A... GOONER?!

• SATORU GOJO X F!READER SMUT ONESHOT

• SUMMARY: You're home alone for what seems like the millionth time since Gojo leaves so much, so you take advantage of his absence and use that time to catch up on masturbating, to solve that need for an orgasm, but, whenever Gojo comes home and catches you watching porn, he intends to use it against you to give you the few best orgasms you've had in awhile.

• CW: Gooner!reader, masturbation, use of toys (vibrator), being caught masturbating, penetrative sex, creampie, Gojo is a teasing little shit, this fic is so unserious.

• WC: 3.3k

Bzzzzzzzzt.

Ah, yes, that familiar sound that you love so much—the sound of your vibrator—buzzes to life for the third time today.

You smile at the toy, knowing you're probably gonna have the best goddamn orgasm you've had all day, as the other two were subpar, but, now that you just got off of FaceTime with your boyfriend, you knew that his image and the sound of his voice, fresh in your mind would help you get off with ease.

Although, there was one slight problem with that.

You're a very visual person, and, despite Satoru's image being fresh into your mind, you knew that half-way through your orgasm, his image in your mind would disappear.

It's a shame, really, that you're such a visual person.

So, with your legs spread and your vibrator in your dominant hand, you grumble as you begin to pat around on your bed, searching for your phone, your fingers searching for that familiar plastic case among the fluffy bedspread until—

Aha.

Found it.

You grip your phone tightly and hold it in front of your face. You quickly unlock the screen, frantically trying to find your favorite app while the vibrator hums lowly in your other hand. You find Twitter quickly, and you open it, and with one thumb, you type in your favorite hashtag,

#gooner

and begin scrolling, until you see those horrendous, cheesy, pornographic posts captioned with a long list of hashtags and that one phrase, "Keep gooning! Bet you won't last an hour with these videos!" plastered over a collection of hentai videos.

You huff at the stupid caption, and reluctantly, you click on one of the videos and are immediately met with an anime girl with big boobs and her boyfriend with a big penis.

It's stupid, it's overly-erotic, and yet, somehow, these videos always get you off. You're not sure why the obscenity of hentai is more appealing to you than real people in porn, but, it doesn't matter in the end, because one way or another, you'll get your orgasm.

You resume watching the video for a bit before slowly bringing the buzzing vibrator down to your clit.

"A-Ahhh..." You instantly moan once the vibrator sets a spark on your clit—quite literally buzzing you to life as your toes slowly curl.

It's on a low setting, so you're not in too deep too quickly, simply because you want to take your time building your orgasm tonight because you're home alone, with no boyfriend in sight, and you're ovulating, so you want to make sure you have the best orgasm you've had in a while since the other two were quite rushed today (which you're still a bit peeved about).

You continue to watch the animated porn on your phone screen, enthused with how sloppy and nasty it looks on your screen, and how pretty the girl's moans sound. Yes, it's a bit over-the-top, but you appreciate it nonetheless as your hand slowly starts to move the vibrator around your clit in circles, making sure to tease yourself just the way you like, leaving yourself wanting more.

You let out soft moans, and your eyelashes flutter for a brief moment as you appreciate the feeling of how good the vibrator feels on your pussy, making you feel pretty worked up.

Considering the fact, you turn up the speed on your vibrator which makes your breath hitch.

You tear your eyes away from the video for a moment and stare up at the ceiling, just taking in the wet, squelching noises and the girl's moans from the video as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

You're starting to feel hot.

You feel the center of your pussy grow hotter and your inner thighs begin to slowly wet themselves with sweat as you keep rubbing your clit with the vibrator.

You swallow thickly as the heat climbs up your thighs and into your stomach, making sweat start to pebble on your skin there, too.

It's all so hot, and it happened so fast, as you had not expected the heat to reach your stomach quite yet.

"Aaah... shit," you curse underneath your breath as the heat fans itself into hot flames in your stomach, and more sweat droplets begin to form onto your skin and now onto your lower back.

You take this as another sign and turn the toy up again, and this time you let out a louder moan, shutting your eyes as the toy sends more sparks of electricity through your body.

It's so hot, you think to yourself, again, as more sweat builds up in your body.

You turn the speed up even higher as a result, making you moan at how good it feels to have your clit stimulated like this.

"O-Ooooh!"

"Hentai?"

A sudden, deep voice fills the room, startling you and making you gasp and open your eyes abruptly. In shock, your vibrator slips from your hand, landing somewhere on the bed as you sit up suddenly. Frantically, you look around for your phone, only to realize that your boyfriend, Satoru, has taken it.

" 'I-I—"

His sudden presence catches you off guard, and you're stunned by how he managed to swipe your phone right from your hands without you even noticing. You don't even have time to wonder how he got here or when he snuck into the room as you sit there, stuttering, at a complete loss for words.

"Gooning?" He sounds even more appalled at that than the hentai, and his eyes widen behind his rectangular-shaped sunglasses; his head falls forward, making them slide down his nose.

You go silent at the observations Satoru perceives quite loudly as he scrolls through the hentai videos you were watching.

Satoru turns to you once he sees that you're silent and he gives you a side eye before shutting off your phone. He tosses it onto the nightstand.

"Baby..." He chuckles, slowly approaching you. "You're a gooner?" He chuckles again, which slowly grows into a laugh.

He smiles and sits down onto the bed next to you and he kisses your neck gently.

"Yes, I'm a goddamn gooner, Satoru," you grumble, rolling your eyes. You can't believe you just admitted to that. Yes, your Twitter feed shows nothing but videos like that, but, you honestly can't really help it. You're so hypersexual that you can't help but want to masturbate all day and just sit and watch porn while you flick your bean.

"Hmm," another cruel chuckle falls from his mouth as he kisses down your neck. "Is this all you do while I'm away? You just sit around, masturbating and watching hentai?" His voice is cruel and mocking. It makes your face heat up even more now that he's caught you in your act.

"I..." You sigh, not really wanting to admit to your faults. "...yes." You're shy and quiet when you finally concede.

"Hehe," he snickers, and slowly, he slips off his jacket and tosses it to the ground and then takes his sunglasses and sets them on the nightstand. "Do I not take care of you enough, baby?" He asks, though instead of his usual teasing tone, he sounds a bit more concerned.

Oh boy.

You sigh, shaking your head. "It's not that, 'Toru...it's just... I'm a really horny person. You take care of me so well, but, I just get so..." Satoru hums and he begins to suck on the skin of your collarbone, making you gasp, "...so horny while you're away."

He raises an eyebrow at the exaggeration of your state or horny-ness, but honestly, it's believable. His hands begin to roam over your thighs while he thinks for a moment.

"Is there any way I can help, or...? Do you just wanna do your own thing?" Soft, blue eyes meet yours while he thinks. You can tell he's eager to help you in anyway possible, and it warms your heart.

You reach out and caress his cheek, gently. "Baby, I love you, but I'm afraid there's just nothing you can do... otherwise you'd have to be home and ready twenty-four-seven."

Satoru's eyebrows raise in surprise as he begins to grasp that you might not be exaggerating at all. Despite his concerned expression, he evidently doesn't seem too bothered. In fact, a small smirk creeps across his face as he starts to find the situation a turn on, even if it involves something as pornographic as hentai.

"Yeah? Twenty-four-seven? You'd need me that much, huh?" Satoru's smirk turns into a grin, and slowly, he climbs on top of you, making you lean down as his body presses against yours.

His lips move down to your neck once again, where he starts pressing gentle, soft kisses along your skin, making you arch up into him, asking for more.

"Yeah..." You admit rather shyly as you feel your ears start to burn.

Meanwhile you're gasping and arching into him, his soft, plush lips move down your body until he reaches your breasts. His lips find one nipple and captures it between his lips and begins to suck fervently, earning him yet another gasp from you.

"Nnghh—" You moan, and you reach for Satoru's hair, but the second you reach for it, he pulls his mouth away with a wet pop.

"Yeah?" He grins cockily, looking up at you. You roll your eyes at his cocky smirk and you huff, watching him as he grabs the vibrator and your phone. He sits up on his elbows and begins scrolling through your phone. "Jesus, guess my girlfriend really is a gooner."

You roll your eyes again. " 'Toru stop calling me that."

He grins, mischievously. "Mmm, we'll see." And, despite your obvious annoyance, he persists and keeps scrolling through your phone. "Time to test how much of a gooner you actually are though, right?"

Another eye roll. "I—"

"Ah, here we go," Satoru gives you no time to resist as he shoves your phone back into your face with another hentai video on your screen. It's a similar video to the previous one with a girl who has big boobs, although, it clearly has an older man in the video. One of those perverted teachers with his student, in a college setting.

"Professor and student, isn't that a fun combo?" Satoru grins at you and you sigh. "Keep watching the video baby. Wanna see you cum to some hentai, since it seems like you love it so much."

With that, he clicks on the vibrator and turns it onto the lowest setting and presses it against your clit.

You flinch in surprise at the unexpected sensation, your legs instinctively jerking. A whine slips from your lips as you arch up into the vibrator. Tearing your gaze away from the video, you look up at your boyfriend, but he shakes his head.

"No, no baby," he tuts. "Pay attention to the video."

Annoyed at his persistence, you huff and reluctantly you go back to watching the video, paying attention to the way the girl moves on the screen.

You're enthused with how raunchy the video is—watching how wet her pussy gets whenever her professor touches her or when he gropes her breasts—it makes you wet, seeing how wet she is, begging for more of her professor's touch. Though, you have to admit that you think the vibrator is doing most of the work, even if the video is making you stimulated.

Speaking of which, the vibrator hums lowly still on your pussy, making your head fuzzy as Satoru moves in slow circles around your clit, knowing just how you like it.

You close your eyes at the feeling, and a small smile appears at the corners of your mouth while the lazy movements of the vibrator sends small jolts of electricity through your body.

"Feeling good, baby?" Satoru's expression lifts into that of a cocky one.

You're about to respond when the vibrator suddenly hums loudly, its intensity increasing. Electric shocks shoot through your body, making you cry out as you clutch at the covers, desperately searching for some sort of anchor in the sudden onslaught.

" 'T-Toru—!" You begin to chide him for suddenly changing it up, but he shakes his head.

"I know, I know..." His tone is full of fake sympathy. "But you can take it, right, baby?"

The vibrator leaves you breathless for a few moments while you endure the surge of what feels like a thousand sudden storms raging in your body, making your legs shake in delight, but eventually you're able to reply once you gain a somewhat steady head.

"Y-Yeah... can take it..." You murmur as you feel the winds of the storm climbing up your body and into your head, making you feel numb as the vibrator continues to run cruelly on your clit.

"Mmm, good, good girl," he praises and leans down, kissing over your neck.

Satoru looks up at you and sees that your eyes are rolling back as the storm wages heavily in your body, so he reaches for the phone in your hand and grabs it, and presses the speaker up to your ear.

"Listen to it. Want you to get off to the sound of this cheesy moaning and that plapping sound, baby."

Satoru's command is a bit mean, but, it's what you do actually get off to, ironically enough. The sounds of the professor and the girl moaning are enough to make your head spin once again, sending flashes of heat throughout your body.

That familiar storm intensifies with every passing moment, making your pussy ache with unmet need. Sweat beads along your skin, the storm raging fiercely within you, desperate for release.

Then, without warning, Satoru bumps up the speed of the vibrator again, quickly unleashing that storm. It makes you cry and whine, your body arches up and down, your legs jolt and your hips shake as you finally cum.

Creamy, white substance leaks out of your pussy and onto the bedsheets while Satoru rips the vibrator away from you, giving you a break.

You're panting, you're sweating, and you're so hot from expelling that raging storm within you—

Oh shit.

Satoru doesn't give you long before the vibrator is pressed against your pussy again, giving you no time to react, he moves the high-speed vibrator against your pussy in quick circles.

"Keep listening to the video, baby," he murmurs into your other ear and then begins to kiss your neck hotly. "Video's almost done, just need you to cum for me one more time."

A high-pitched ringing begins to form in your ears while your head falls numb. A feeling of bonlessness overcomes you while you take the overstimulating vibrator to your clit, making that hot storm churn in your body again.

You're twitching, and you begin to pant once more.

"Haaa... haaa..."

More twitching; electricity shoots through your body, and that dull ache reappears between your legs, making that familiar feeling in your abdomen more prominent.

Plap, plap, plap—the sounds from the video echoes in your ear, and the girl's moaning only gets louder and louder until you hear it, suddenly—she lets out a loud moan, and, instantly, it causes you to tip over the edge once more, releasing that storm inside of you as you cum again, only more violently this time as your legs shake as if they were being tased with electricity.

" 'Toruuuuu!" You moan his name loudly as you finish, a sharp cry following his name as your body arches up impossibly high, and then plops down back onto the bed once that feeling washes over you.

Finally, after what feels like forever, that video ends, and your boyfriend removes your phone from your ear and puts it onto the nightstand. Satisfied, he hums and takes the vibrator out from between your legs and turns it off and sets it aside on the bed.

"Did so good for me, baby..." Satoru hums as he kisses your neck, trying to calm you down as you lay there, a panting mess.

"Yeah... came for me twice. You should be proud of y'self," he murmurs into your neck. He kisses your skin, slowly and sweetly which slowly begins to calm you down.

"Mmm..." Is all you can mumble back, feeling as if you're sitting on cloud nine.

He grins against your skin once he hears your hum of content, knowing that he was the one to reduce you to this state.

"Yeah... gonna treat you so well and make you cum one more time for me, alright?" He murmurs and his hands begin to unbutton his shirt. He slides off the white fabric and tosses it to the side before you hear the clinking of his belt buckle, and a slip of smooth leather, and then finally you hear him slide his pants off.

"Haaa... Satoru..." You almost protest, but the sight of him reaching down to take his cock out of the confines of his underwear, thus revealing himself with a leaky tip, immediately shuts you up. You swallow thickly and you nod your head eagerly. "Mmkay."

"Good... girl..." He murmurs between kisses as his lips still caress your skin. He reaches down and grips his cock between his hands, and then he settles himself between your legs. He lines himself up, and then slowly, he pushes himself in, immediately earning him a moan.

"Nnngh—!" Your hands remove themselves from the bedsheets and then cling to his back, feeling the taught muscles under your skin, you grip it, anchoring yourself to him in hopes of clinging to what little sense you have left.

He starts with a slow pace, and immediately you're obsessed with the way things sound. Your ears perk up at the enticing sound of your pussy squishing around him, the sound of his breaths, heavy in your ear, and how you sound, moaning as you take him.

All of it makes both you and Satoru more excited as your walls flutter around the thickness of his cock, which sends him into more of a desperate state of need. He follows it, quickly, and begins thrusting at a faster pace.

"S-Shit..." He mutters and quickly leans down so he's sucking a large mark onto your breast, making you whine.

Plap, plap, plap.

The sound intensifies; Satoru increases his pace again.

Plap, plap, plap.

Again.

Plap, plap, plap.

The pace is faster, harsher, as now both of you are chasing your release. Nothing but the sound of panting and skin slapping fills the air, while the both of you feel that ache of that impending orgasm.

The sounds of it all surely doesn't help your case as Satoru fills you with his thick cock. It drills inside of you, full of need, quickening with each pace, leaving you a wet mess.

Your head falls to the side against the pillows and you stare up at the ceiling while you pant, and your hands dig into his back, trying to cling onto him but it's no use.

"Hnnnghh... aaaahhh..." You moan, and Satoru chuckles lightly.

"Haaa... baby, you feel s'good," he murmurs drunkenly, when suddenly the rhythm of his pace messes up. "Aaah... shit, baby gonna cum—"

Finally, with one, final snap of his hips, he cums into your soaked pussy, filling you up completely, and in turn making you finish as you let out a loud moan.

"Fuck," you both curse under your breath when you both fall limp, and become boneless.

Satoru rolls off of you and lays on his back next to you.

There's a long moment of nothing but heavy breathing being exchanged between the both of you, until finally, Satoru swallows thickly and snickers.

"Did that finally satisfy my gooner girlfriend?"

Unable to move your head, you give him a side-eye, and you see that mischievous smirk slapped on his face.

"I will slap that smirk right off of your face, Satoru Gojo."

He laughs. "Fine with me."

[konigsblog]

period sex with simon. (because i'm on my period.) 🩸

unlike könig, simon doesn't prefer eating you out on your period. he thinks it's too messy and instead he'll spread your folds and fuck you gently, a large hand pressing down on your stomach to ease those aches.

you have tears streaming down your cheeks, burning your soft, tear-stained skin. your eyes are half-lidded with desire and fatigue, your muscles weak and your stomach cramping at the sudden, random shooting pains. simon rolls and grinds the head of his thick, girthy cock against your bleeding hole while coddling you. he cooes at the sensitive state you're left in, feeling as your pussy pulses and throbs against his length, the eagerness in your eyes for all your problems to be solved with a nice, slow fucking from none other than simon riley.

he's tender with you in your sensitive, emotional state. he wipes the tear from your waterline while pressing down on your stomach, massaging the cramping sensation while thrusting slowly and carefully. his girthy, wide dick stretches you out perfectly and distracts you from all the tightness in your muscles, moans flowing from your soft lips and pussy greedily accepting his veiny shaft.

“hush, sweethear’. just relax, let me soothe all your aches, yeah? so fuckin’ gorgeous, ain’t‘cha? just a sweet little thing, so compliant and needy for my attention and help.” he chuckles quietly at the mess between your thighs; your skin is coated in a mixture of your arousal, period blood, and simon's pearly fluids.

just ease further into the soft bed and allow him to fix you, pretty baby.

[lemonhemlock]

the reason why i don't think blood & cheese works without maelor is because it undermines the gravity of helaena's choice

in the books, as we all know, she has to choose which son to sacrifice. blood & cheese are going to kill one either way, so, whatever happens, if you want to get cynical about it, aegon will still be left with a male heir of his body. no, the horribleness of the choice lies not really in dynastic matters, but in basic humanity: which of your children are you willing to condemn to death? and helaena truly does try to make the best out of a bad situation, she picks not because she loves jaehaerys more, but because maelor is so tiny that she hopes he won't understand what's going to happen to him.

and she absolutely has to choose, because b&c threaten to rape her daughter if she doesn't. it's psychological torture. b&c just want to fuck her up in the head as much as possible and helaena tries her goddamnest to minimize the harm done to her family. to further compound on the tragedy, b&c kill the opposite child, so now she has to live out the rest of her days knowing that the son left alive is the son SHE herself marked for the axe. which is what understandably drives her to lose her mind

now, in the show, the "problem" blood & cheese have doesn't exist at all: that they can't supposedly tell the twins apart. but (as awful as it sounds, since it involves sexual assault) they could very easily check which child has male genitalia and be done with it. it's a "problem" that takes literal seconds to solve. they don't need helaena at all! it becomes irrelevant which child she points towards - b&c can always just check! she can't save jaehaerys in this situation no matter what she does, because b&c were never interested in jaehaera in the first place. in the books, she has the ability to save one child and this exact horrible "agency" bestowed on her torments her for the rest of her days. in the show, even had she pointed towards jaehaera, it would have been a narrative plot hole for the writers to have killed her without checking

likewise, in the books, she begs them to kill her instead, but, in the show, she offers them a necklace? you can't deny that the dramatic stakes are lowered substantially by making that change. which one of these options would have been more filled with pathos? personally, it just feels like this was phia's moment to shine and, while she did a good job with what she had, every narrative choice was somehow made to subdue this horrible event and left her only crumbs to work with. cinematically-speaking, this scene (as it was executed) does not even come close to the iconic moments that cemented GoT into the collective consciousness, which is very strange, as the subject matter is anything but mediocre

and that's not even getting into the rest of the plot holes that others have already pointed out, like:

- why are there no guards at helaena's door or anywhere else for that matter? not just on that hallway, but on many other hallways, she has to run quite a lot to get to alicent's chambers

- why is her room unlocked at the very least

- why is ALICENT's room unlocked, for that matter? she is having secret guilty sex with criston and she forgets to lock her door in a castle full of spies? anyone could have walked in

- not even getting into this whole thing just being one huge misunderstanding + minimizing daemon's and mysaria's roles :))

- NOT EVEN mentioning removing the trauma of alicent witnessing all of this, gagged and bound on her own bed, not being able to help or intervene in any way

i can understand the likelihood of these elements happening sometimes (maybe someone does forget to lock their door from time to time, maybe a guard does shirk their duties from time to time), but you can't write all of them at once without it turning all looney tunes. if you introduce too many aspects that defy logic in your story, it ceases to be believable and just becomes bad writing

___________________________________________

also, "they killed <the boy>"? not "my son" or "jaehaerys"? it sounds so removed, don't you think? helaena out there on her mother's floor dropping exposition for the audience 🥲

[okiedokrie]

Meet Me In Amsterdam

Summary: "Minghao finds himself under a mentorship program from one of the most brilliant artist in the contemporary circle, where he meets Y/N and bond with their journey through art, overcoming traumas, and hopeless romanticism of the life and love around them. But all things come to an end at some point, the mentorship program ends, and they both go back to their lives. But they do meet again to finish what they started; 'if there is a next time, meet me in Amsterdam.'"

Characters/Pairing: Artist!Minghao x Artist!Fem!Reader

Genre: smut, some angst, fluff

AU/Trope Info: Non-idol AU!, idiots to lovers

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: Religious themes, implication of past sexual assault, homophobia mention, some cursing, food mentions, smut warnings under the cut

Rating: 18+

A/N: this is for the @svthub 2024 world tour collab! Thanks to @whipped-for-kpop-fics and @hobeemin for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: oral (f receiving), sex in a church, unprotected sex, implied creampie

The air in Minghao's studio is dizzying. A broken exhaust and paint fumes don't really mix, and his open windows could only do so much. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Touching grass may solve his problem, but he doesn't feel like dealing with the morning dew on the grass.

He quickly closed his windows before packing all his belongings in his commuting bag, opting to rush to a recent exhibit that opened. Minghao knew very little about the artist, but a change of scenery might help quell his throbbing headache. 

Minghao took this opportunity to space out during the commute to the gallery, popping on his headphones and trying to ignore the touchy couples in the train car with him. He wonders what it'll feel like to find his person like them; Minghao only craves the warmth of another's arms.

He wonders what it'll feel like to fall for someone, to be comfortable with vulnerability and the trusting bond between two lovers. Ever the hopeless romantic, he'd love to love and be loved.

He snapped out of his thoughts when the intercom buzzed to life, announcing the arrival at Minghao’s stop. Adjusting the strap of his messenger bag, he pushed his way through the busy crowd to head out of the station. The walk to the gallery was calm and relatively quiet. This part of the city mostly had walking paths rather than roads, so it was really only bustling with people and the occasional bicycle. 

Arriving at the gallery, the pieces were gorgeous, as expected. This artist was well known in the contemporary circle, so it's no surprise that the gallery is almost busier than the outside. Minghao felt drawn to one piece in particular, the warm tones, swirling and melting into one another, blending into a flame-like flow; it was stationary yet moving.

He hears a chuckle behind him, only to see an older man, about mid-forties, smiling at him. “I see you enjoy this piece; you have great taste. What's your name, boy?” 

Minghao is a little flustered, but he introduces himself nonetheless. The man before him introduced himself as the artist and noticed Minghao's paint-stained hands before asking if he was an artist himself. Minghao confirmed the older man’s speculations, offering to show some of his work as photos on his phone. The older man was impressed by Minghao’s talent and potential, and he then mentioned that he had an apprenticeship program open, but it was in Amsterdam. 

Minghao agreed a little too enthusiastically, seeing as this man quite literally defined an era of art in a way nobody else has.

It was only a few weeks after that interaction, but Minghao found himself on a flight to Amsterdam.

Taking in the city's air, Minghao feels a sense of dread washing over him, and the hustle and bustle of a new city scares him a bit. Being alone in a foreign land wasn't why his nerves were all over the place; no, it was the fact that he felt this opportunity wasn't meant to be his.

Sure, his mentor got the opportunity to see his work before he accepted the offer, but still, he feels this mentorship program would've been more suited to someone more fitting.

Nonetheless, Minghao is here now. And he swears he'll make the most of the time he spends here.

Taking one of the many old trains out of the airport, the rumbling train rails helped ground him a little; the sound was new and familiar at the same time. He thought back to his small studio back home, wondering how well it'd hold up in the year he'd be gone.

Minghao is snapped out of his daydreams when the train arrives at his station. He lugs his luggage to what will be his living quarters for the rest of his time here. Wiping his palms over his sweats, he finally takes the time to haul his bags over the stairs to the small apartment that was provided to him. His mentor mentioned that he has a roommate, another artist in the program, so he doesn't let his stuff get too comfortable in the main room.

Instead, he randomly picks one of the rooms, hoping his roommate doesn't mind. If they did, it's not as if he's opposed to switching. 

He hums a simple melody while setting his bags to the side, still catching up to the jetlag and too tired to put anything away. He inspects the room, noting that it is a little dusty. He has to settle his sheets and wipe everything down before he can get too comfortable.

He thinks that heading out for brunch is a good idea, guessing that his roommate would most likely want to get situated in peace. He gets his wallet and phone and heads out to find somewhere to eat.

The streets weren't too busy. It was midday and the middle of the week, and most likely, people were still at their jobs. Still, they were full of people to the point that Minghao felt the pressure of needing to always be on the move. He constantly tried to go with the flow of the crowds while trying to find an establishment he could eat at, preferably something to quell his growing homesickness.

He stumbles across what seems to be a small business with very familiar-looking signs. Bingo! It's a Chinese restaurant! He thanks whatever force managed to lead him here before he enters the restaurant. The distinct smell of the classic spice mix calms his nerves, and his posture relaxes significantly. 

The man at the counter doesn't look up from his paper, pointing at a booth near the back where Minghao could set his stuff before ordering. The curt behavior of the man doesn't phase him; in fact, it comforts him. He sets his bag down before standing at the counter, reading over the signs that were both in Mandarin and English. He starts ordering his food in Mandarin, finally getting the man at the counter to notice him. He nods in understanding, taking his order diligently before yelling his order at the cook at the back.

He pays, nods at the man again, and gets situated at his table. Getting comfortable with the smell of the food cooking and the chatter of the people around him. He fiddles with his phone a little, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram to see what his friends are up to. Mingyu got another modeling gig, Jungkook with his new single, and Dokyeom got to play Orpheus in Hadestown. 

Soon enough, he doesn't realize how much time has passed, only noticing that his food was ready when the waitress hurriedly slides his food onto the table and takes his table number. Mumbling thanks, which he believes she ignores, Minghao starts to eat his food.

This is so good, actually; I need to post this to my story.

Minghao took a picture of his food. The digital camera shutter almost distracted him from the sound of someone bumping into the table next to him. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” A feminine voice said, frantically apologizing to the patron at said table, holding her hip. She desperately tried to wipe up anything that was spilled, apologizing profusely. Minghao got up from his table and offered to help her, wiping up the mess with her like the gentleman he was. Once the table was free from any spills, she apologized again to the person at the table and Minghao for troubling him.

“It’s fine; accidents happen all the time. Just be more mindful next time.” He says calmly, returning to his booth before a smaller hand grabs his arm. 

“Uh, I can't find a place to sit. Would you mind sharing a table with me?” she asked shyly but politely. Minghao shakes his head no. Offering her a polite smile as they walk back to their now shared table, she leaves her items in his care before going to order her food.

Minghao finally gets to enjoy the food he ordered. The decadent aroma was mouth-watering, and most importantly, it reminded him of home. It helps warm him up, literally and figuratively. He chews slowly, savoring the flavors of his food as usual. He'd always been a slow eater, slow enough for the lady he shares a table with to get her food and finish eating with him.

They both get up from their table with a curt nod of acknowledgment. Thinking this would be the last time they'd ever interact, Minghao didn't bother introducing himself. And neither does she. 

Yet, Minghao can't seem to shake the feeling of disappointment once he leaves her.

Minghao finally arrives at his apartment, ready to settle down after a long day of exploring the city and taking photos of places that inspire him. He closes the door, running a hand through his hair to look around the living room. 

He nearly dropped his camera when he saw the girl from the restaurant staring back at him, and he almost dropped the tray of paints from the shock.

“What are you doing here?!” She asked, surprised and on alert. Minghao could only guess what emotions she was going through at that moment. A random man she met once is suddenly in her apartment. Oh dear.

Minghao starts to feel panic settle into him, too. Both of them look like deer in headlights, trying to make sense of the situation. 

“Oh- uh- fuck, I live here!” Minghao says frantically, holding both his hands up in a show of innocence, showing his copy of the keys to their apartment.

Her posture immediately relaxed a little, “Oh uh, so, you're my roommate? I'm Y/n, by the way.” She says, still a little weary of him. He doesn't blame her; he did come in unannounced.

“It's nice to meet you again, I mean. I'm Minghao. Let's try to get along for this mentorship program, yeah?” He says, scratching the back of his head. “I'm gonna go head to bed; I'm exhausted from all the traveling, so uh, yeah.”

Minghao hoped his exit wasn't too awkward. Maybe it was, but he was too tired to deal with the intricacies of small talk. He changed his sheets quickly, throwing the old sheets into the wash before doing his nightly routine. He crashed into his new, cool sheets and drifted off into dreamland. 

It was the next morning, and the warmth of the sunlight was seeping in through the cracks between the curtains. He blinks away the sleep from his eyes, rubbing his face into his palms. He sits up and shakes his head to fight off the rest of his fatigue. He was always a morning person, but the jetlag is making it a bit too difficult for him to uphold that. 

His morning routine was simple: shower, get dressed, make-up and hair, breakfast, and out. He rarely breaks from this simple pattern, which consistently makes life easier for him. So it came as a surprise to him that he didn't have to make breakfast this time since his roommate kindly left a portion for him. 

He thinks this is such a nice gesture to leave for the guy who scared her half to death yesterday. Maybe this was a sort of peace offering to make getting along easier? Either way, he won't complain—it's just another thing to make his life a little easier.

His roommate is nowhere to be seen, most likely already on his way to the studio to meet their mentor. So Minghao also leaves the apartment, making sure to lock the door on his way out. He pops his headphones on, listening to his favorite commute playlist with a lightness in his step, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

The train ride to the studio was calm; the morning train was much less busy than the afternoon one he took when he arrived, so he got the opportunity to sit down and enjoy the book he recently got. It was a story about two soulmates finding each other in the middle of a city that was new to both of them; he thinks that maybe he's starting to lean into the hopeless romantic stereotype that his friends would always compare him to, which, he could never beat the allegations. 

His mind drifts to his art, and he describes how the romanticization of life became a heavy inspiration for his work. Minghao loves the strokes of color on the canvas as much as he loves life, and his passion for existence weaves itself between the fibers of his canvas.

After being snapped out of his daydreams by the conductor, he feels a sense of deja vu; he finds himself in his head constantly these days. He is always such a dreamer.

The doors of the train open with a mechanical hiss, old rails squeaking under the friction. He thinks the train still needs to go through the desperately needed maintenance. Same train, same. He thought to himself, stuffing his book back into his back with a huff.

Minghao takes in the scenery around him; this part of the city is much less busy than where his apartment was, so he could finally appreciate the city's beauty without the pressure of constantly having to be on the move.

His mentor's building comes into view. It is an older building; the exterior has long since been weathered, but history still makes it gorgeous. He noticed that buildings, most of them having yet to be touched since they were first built, added a charm to an otherwise monotonous city.

He pushes in the door, noting that his only option for getting to the studio is a set of ancient, creaky wooden steps. Minghao is lightheaded from looking at the flight of stairs, so he doesn't bother counting how many floors he has to climb just to get to his mentor. 

I have to climb this every day. I don't need to bother with leg day here. He thought to himself, already making the long trek up the stairs. 

It wasn’t that long—about 5 minutes of walking time—but it felt like an eternity to him. Walking was no issue; walking upstairs? Torture. The first treadmill was a step design, so it may not be an exaggeration. 

Minghao finally reaches the top of the stairwell, pausing to catch his breath in an attempt to look presentable to his mentor and possibly his roommate. He stands by the door for a while, mentally preparing himself for the first day of the program. He arrives earlier than the agreed-upon time, so he's not in a rush to make his presence known.

He takes his water bottle out of his bag, puts cool water in it, and helps his poor self finally calm down from his mini workout. He curses whoever designed this stairwell. A five-story building should have an elevator, and arguing that it doesn't need one feels like a hate crime.

He stops himself before arguing with fictitious architects, who are probably long gone, about how old the building looks. Anyway, he finally has a hand on the doorknob to the studio; taking a deep breath one last time, he twists the knob and pushes the door open, the old wood creaking in protest from the force of him opening it. He cringes internally, the squeak passing straight through his skull, making him want to grind his teeth in annoyance.

Still, he doesn’t show his disdain for this geriatric building on his face since his mentor and roommate both whip their heads around to see him at the doorway. Suddenly, having two sets of eyes on you doesn't help the nerves. 

He offers a polite smile, successfully fighting his grimace with a more pleasant expression. Both his mentor and roommate smile back. He noticed his mentor was a lot more relaxed than when he first met him, which makes sense. He is where he's most comfortable—in his very own studio.

Minghao feels the same about his tiny studio back home. He steps further into the bright studio, closing the door behind him. The studio's top floor and many large windows bring loads of natural light, making it feel more comfortable and inviting. Couple that with the fact that it's in a relatively quiet part of the city, and he feels as if his mentor really put thought into every detail of his permanent studio.

Minghao wonders when he will be able to get the studio of his dreams in his art career, but for now, he admires the studio. His mentor greets him and urges him to explore and get acquainted with the space. Since he'll be spending most of his time here in Amsterdam. Minghao nods, dropping his bag on the cubbies near the door and carefully walking around the studio, avoiding the items and canvases scattered around the floor. His mentor seemed to have an organized chaos mindset, seemingly not bothered by the mess or the health hazard tripping on any of these might cause.

He finds it amusing how much of his mentor he finds out about just from looking around his workspace. He has a husband, married young, it seems. He has twin girls, who he can only assume are grown now. He used to have a dog, a poodle named ‘Cloud’ despite being a black poodle. He made prints of older paintings before sending them off to an auction for fundraisers. He remembers those fundraisers very fondly, it seems. 

Minghao also finds the bathroom and takes note of its location for future use; he’s definitely going to use that. He joins his mentor and roommate by the window, then takes the time to drink their morning coffee and watch the birds. His mentor offers him coffee, but Minghao asks if he has tea. His mentor confirms that he does and points toward his pantry, which is just a wooden cubby that he appropriated to be a pantry after he got tired of getting his snacks off the floor, sighting back pains.

Minghao calmly prepares his tea, passively listening to the conversation between his mentor and roommate. They seem to get along well. Maybe his mentor has some fondness for her because she reminds him of his daughters. He could only guess, though.

Minghao finishes making his tea and finally joins them by the window. “Are you guys birdwatching?” he asks, joining in the conversation. 

“Yes! Mr. Jones was talking about how his youngest loved visiting his studio just to view the birds.” His roommate answers, his mentor confirming it. Though he does mention that she doesn’t visit as often—after all, she has a family of her own now—when she visits, she brings his grandchildren with her, which makes the old man happy. 

He adopted his twin girls pretty early in life, seeing them as inspiration for most of his work. The way his mentor talks about his family and life with so much pride makes Minghao think about his future. He wonders if he’ll ever be as proud of his life as his mentor is, but considering he’ll be learning everything this man can offer, he’s pretty confident about that, at least.

After finishing their morning drinks, his mentor started his first assignment for them, one of many he’d assign throughout the program. His mentor was a patient and calm man. His instruction and tips for injecting emotion into your piece were very cohesive; it was almost like he got it down to a science. His enthusiasm and passion for his work were truly remarkable, and getting to witness it and learn from him felt surreal. 

Minghao feels proud of having the opportunity to have him as a mentor. At the end of the day, instead of feeling exhausted, he's excited to learn more from him tomorrow. 

You and Minghao are heading home together after a long day with your mentor, walking silently through the streets; you think that maybe he just doesn't like you, seeing how he practically jumps at every accidental graze of your hands with each other.

You don't really blame him either; your first impression wasn't exactly the greatest, seeing as someone cussed you out in the middle of a Chinese restaurant. That impression was a strong one, but unfortunately, not a good one.

Minghao and you shuffle into the same train car, getting pressed together as a consequence of rush hour. You try not to think about what your roommate, who is basically still a stranger to you, feels like. He's warm, and you can definitely feel that he is in shape. You definitely try not to think about how tall he is or how handsome he is.

He's so polite, too, and very gentlemanly. He's always conscious of his movement and language around you, protecting you from being squeezed in this tiny train car without him even noticing. It was basically second nature to him.

Oh, you're never going to survive with this man for a year; you're definitely not going to stay sane with him living with you. Your mind starts reeling, cursing whatever deity thought it was funny to send over a walking wet dream of a roommate to your sex-deprived self. 

You'd hope Minghao doesn't notice how you fought for your life, trying to have decent thoughts. You felt extremely guilty for thinking of him as such, he's just minding his business, and you're acting like some horny teenager. You hope you don't offend him with how much you flinch in every interaction with him. 

The last thing you'd want is for him to think he was the problem.

Luckily for you, Minghao always seemed to be in his head most of the time, mindlessly picking at the stitching of his shirt and spacing out, it seems. At least you don't have to worry about him secretly being a mind-reader. The chances are low, but they're never zero. 

You also take this as an opportunity to start spacing out, looking out the window to watch the buildings and trees pass by quickly, enjoying the golden glow of the setting sun over the city. This scene makes you feel bittersweet, as if another day has passed. 

You wanted nothing more than to crash in your bed and sleep until the next morning, but for now, in the middle of this train car, you had to be vigilant of your surroundings. Not just because you're a newbie to this place but because you absolutely cannot get so distracted that you start to lean into your roommate like some deranged weirdo subconsciously. 

The train conductor announcing your stop seemed to snap both you and Minghao out of your daydreams. “Could I hold onto you? I don't wanna get swept up in this crowd,” you asked politely, unable to meet his eyes.

“Uh, sure, hold on.” He said, adjusting his messenger bag so it doesn't block your reach of his arm.

Minghao navigates the flowing crowd with a form of familiarity. It surprised you how well he managed to adjust to the movement of such a busy city. Then again, he could have already come from a much busier city than Amsterdam. Still, you need to learn more about him to make assumptions.

Minghao weaves the two of you through the crowds and out of the station, successfully reaching fresh air once you make it to a calmer sidewalk that was already near your apartment. You wanted to ask him so many questions. You realistically had a little over a year to do so, yet you know how quickly a year actually goes by, so you wanted to work quickly, but not too quickly, that you scare the poor man away.

Arriving at your apartment, Minghao fishes his keys out of his pocket to unlock the door, opens it, and gestures for you to enter first. You say a small ‘thank you’ before entering, taking your shoes off at the entrance and hanging up your coat.

Minghao follows you after you hear the door click behind you. The shuffling of his items as they are hung indicates that he is settling down for the day.

“Hey, Minghao?” You start, wanting to lead a conversation to eliminate the awkwardness between you and your roommate; he hums, fully turning his body to you as if to signal that he is listening. “I just wanted to know what you thought of Mr. Jones. You know, not as a mentor, but as a person.” You asked, thinking it was a safe place to start getting to know him.

He thinks about it momentarily, “I can't say right now; I've only ever known him as a leading force in the contemporary circle, but other than that? Not much. Judging from his relationship with his daughters, he seems like a good father and good husband, as he still spoke about his husband fondly and was pleasant to be around. But other than that, I don't know.” He shrugged, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don't know,” You answer truthfully, “I like him a lot; he reminds me of my dad somewhat, you know, except maybe less of a religious nut.” You joke, gauging to see Minghao's reaction to it; luckily for you, Minghao finds it funny. Offering a restrained pfft- at your quip.

“Yeah, I get that; my dad was the same too. But I like him a lot less than Mr. Jones.” He said through laughter, running his hands through his hair. “I'll go take a shower; see you around, Y/n.” 

And with that, he disappears into his en-suite. 

You celebrate the tiny progress you made with your roommate, and you get to exchange words with him that aren't just common pleasantries. This motivates you to fan the spark of this new friendship, and maybe more, if you play your cards right.

It's too early to say you liked him, but he is objectively very attractive. So you can't really blame yourself for ogling at him. Respectfully, of course.

You also prepare for your night routine, opting to go through your entire skincare routine for the first time in forever after showering. You put on your best pajamas and tuck yourself into bed, dreaming of the day your hot roommate sees you how you want him to.

Kidding, not really.

Minghao has yet to learn what he's doing.

He'd been staring blankly at his canvas for what seemed like a solid 20 minutes, these inner thoughts fighting for dominance and splattering their metaphorical blood all over the pristine canvas.

He wanted to paint something so badly, but alas, getting struck with a severe art block on the second day of his mentorship felt like a sick joke from fate. His mentor watches over their shoulders, monitoring their progress. He seemed to notice Minghao's growing frustration from being stuck, “I think you should take a break, son. You should enjoy some tea by the window and clear your mind to make room for new ideas.” he said gently with a hand on Minghao’s shoulder.

Minghao agrees with him, finally setting his brush down to make his tea as usual before getting comfortable on one of the chairs by the window. He watches the trees sway in the wind, the birds playing on a random rooftop, and the clouds drifting slowly. All of these help calm his racing mind, which is preoccupied with so many things to think about that he doesn't have room to think about new ideas.

Minghao has a nasty habit of overthinking and holding onto ideas that no longer serve him a purpose. He thinks back to the first time he did this, the day he decided to become an artist. He's always known that he wanted to be an artist. He was eight at the time, telling his parents about his dreams for the future. 

Unfortunately, they disapproved of such plans. The first thought Minghao ever held onto was, “You need to aspire to get a real job, not just some useless skill that will leave you with no money.”

The second thought Minghao held onto happened at around the age of 17, just before graduating high school. He decided not to go to college, seeing that he still held out hope that he could become a great artist one day. He wanted to prioritize honing his skills, and his parents, once again, didn't approve of that.

That was the first time he ever felt fear from his parents. Before, he was only met with stern lecturing and maybe being grounded, but he never saw his dad that angry before or ever since. Since that day, Minghao has held onto the following: “If you're going to choose to throw your life away, then so be it. Just don't come crawling back here when you end up on the streets!”

Minghao doesn't want to recall the last thought he held onto; the memory is still fresh and feels like a weapon being used against him. He wished it didn't turn out that way, but it did. And there's nothing he could do to change the facts.

Minghao savors the flavors of his tea before finally trying his best to get rid of all those thoughts he holds onto. He's far away from his parents, far away from the people who could hurt him, and far away from the past.

He finally stops overthinking as soon as he sets his cup down, wiping off his palms on his pants before joining his roommate and mentor again. His head was finally free of any troubles he might've had. But he knows he's never truly free, only temporarily setting it aside to focus on his current goals.

He feels a sense of pride while he is painting this time. Strokes of vibrant color dance across the weaving of the canvas, and his brush glides smoothly and freely across it, finding a path of its own, making its mark like it was always meant to do.

In a way, it was freeing to paint without the pressure of making it look ‘good’, Minghao only had to focus on laying a color down the way it wanted to lay, and this show of emotion sparked a flame of determination in Minghao that he thought he lost so long ago.

Minghao finally sees the colors for what they are again, and in a way, he starts falling in love with creating again. His joy is evident on his face, and the controlled strokes slowly turn into free ones with every passing moment. 

He looks away from his canvas once to look at you, and he smiles the biggest smile you've ever seen on him. And you realize his smile is contagious, absolutely stunning in a way you've never felt before.

That smile was detrimental to your poor little heart, your small crush on him only worsening. You think it's a bit unfair that the universe had to dangle such a gorgeous specimen in front of you. You didn't even have an idea if he was single or not. He could have a wife and kids back home and you'd be none the wiser.

Still, you enjoy his company while you can. After all, it's not like you applied for this mentorship just to mingle. You were here to learn under a great artist, and to gain the experiences necessary to advance your career and skill.

Having a hot roommate is a nice touch, though.

“Hey Minghao?” You ask from the living room, looking up from your book to look at him in your tiny kitchen. 

“Yeah?” He replied, not looking up from the stove. It was the weekend, and Minghao offered to make dinner as you’ve been making breakfast for the past few days.

“Are you in a relationship? If you don’t mind me asking.” You asked, the question has been bugging you for a while now, ever since you realized your tiny crush. You’d feel incredibly guilty if he was in a relationship and you tried shooting your shot with him.

“No. But why do you ask?” He said simply, focusing more of his attention to not burning the food. Stir-frying the noodles with familiarity.

“Nothing, I just thought about it.” You paused, “We’re friends, right?” You finished with a question, thinking that maybe your line of questioning might be too much for someone who doesn’t even consider you more than a roommate.

“Of course. I like your company, I don’t have a reason to try and alienate you.” He said, now with more focus on you as he turned the fire of the stove down. Plating your food in one of the plates your apartment came with.

“Cool. We’re cool.” You said a little awkwardly, thinking that maybe your questioning was a bit too on the nose. Even if he wasn’t a mind-reader, he’ll surely be able to tell that you’re interested in him just from your weird line of questioning in recent days. Surely Minghao isn’t dense.

Minghao called you over to your dining room table, saying that dinner was already served. You rise from your comfortable position on the couch, making your way over to the tiny table in the space between the living room and kitchen.

“I hope you like the food, it's something I always used to make in college. It was one of the few luxuries I could afford, but it’s still very delicious,” he said, serving you a portion before taking some for himself.

“Thank you for making dinner. This looks amazing, I’m honored to try it.” You said, taking in the sight of the food that Minghao made with care. Minghao feels a sense of pride from your praise, sure, he’s not the best cook, but he’s definitely proud of the progress he made in recent years. 

Cooking was one of the first skills Minghao had to learn when he got kicked out of his parents’ place. Having focused all his energy on studying before, he only really had the time to learn how to take care of himself once he was on his own.

Watching you eat his food enthusiastically made Minghao unexpectedly happy. Sharing something he was proud of is often how he tries to get close to people, the little piece of vulnerability made him feel closer to them, like offering a piece of himself to them.

To you, this may have felt like a simple dinner, a meal between two friends in the comfort of their own home. But to Minghao, this was him accepting you into his space. Finally being comfortable enough to associate you to a dish he holds almost sacred.

The days easily turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before you knew it, it's already six months into your mentorship program. The days began to blur into each other, the most interesting thing that happened in the six months was your budding relationship with your roommate, whom you found out to be as much of a hopeless romantic as you are.

Your weekdays were spent at the studio, diligently working under your mentor and improving your art. While your weekdays were spent unwinding and spending time with your new friend. Minghao's taste in movies doesn't differ much from yours, opting to watch romantic movies with happy endings. 

It was during one of these movie nights that Minghao asked you a question, “Do you believe in true love? ‘The one’, so to speak. Someone that is a perfect fit for you as you are to them.”

You think about this question for a bit, “Yeah, I do. It's a little silly to ask for perfection, but if someone is perfect to you, I think that's pretty plausible. Though, I do think true love is more of a choice than just aimlessly searching for them, you know?” You answered carefully, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

“I see,” Minghao started, “do you have an idea what your ‘one’ might be like?” He asked, this time a little more determined to get a more pointed answer from you.

“Not necessarily, but I already have a feeling that I know them already.” You said, relaxing and leaning back onto the couch, “Or, at least I hope I do. And I hope they see me like that too.” You sighed, wishful thinking taking over you again.

Over time, your little crush on Minghao had grown into a genuine romantic interest, especially since learning that he was single a few weeks ago, you started to see him in a different light. Almost as if the confirmation of his availability gave your subconscious the green light to start thirsting over him like a horny teenager.

It also didn’t help that he got comfortable enough to walk around the house shirtless, or worse, with just a towel loosely around his hips, sitting low as he’s fresh out of the shower. This put you in a loop, almost all thoughts being occupied by him in a sick and twisted way.

Some days, you convince yourself that Minghao does this on purpose, trying to kill you in the reflection of the light from his sweet, wet abs.

“Y/n?” He said, breathless. With a whiny tone in his naturally airy voice. 

“Hao? You’re back from your run?” You ask from the kitchen. Trying not to think about how delicious his voice sounded.

“Yeah, I picked up some bread on the way back. Thought it’s go well with the soup you’re making.” He replied as he placed a paper bag of fresh bread on the counter. You turn away from the stove to check out the selection he brought back.

“Hm, you got good taste. I didn’t expect any less.” You say with a proud smile, Minghao’s chest fills with a sense of pride as well. It was always validating to hear from someone else that they trusted your judgment.

The two of you had the day off today, your mentor visiting his daughters somewhere on the other side of the country. Giving the two of you free reign to settle chores that you haven’t been keeping up with.

Minghao offers to help you set the table, but you tell him to take a shower first. Letting that sweat dry on him might make him sick. Or worse, sticky.

He laughs that off, “Oh please, I think you’d want that.” He said suggestively. 

That was a new development too. Minghao is getting bolder with his jokes. His jokes were always tasteful, never trying to push your boundaries. But sometimes you wish he did, just so you’d have the excuse to tell him how much you wanted him.

But for now, with Minghao not showing any interest in acting upon his suggestive jokes, you swallow down the urge to jump his bones. For now, at least.

Your mentor returned from his family visit the next day, with an assignment for both of you. 

Sitting in the studio as usual, your mentor explains what your assignment entails, and how it’ll most likely span the rest of your time here in Amsterdam. He took it upon himself to assign it as a final project for the two of you, finishing this would finish their apprenticeship.

“A local cathedral reached out to me looking for my services. They wanted a mural painted for the interior because it started to look a little too clean after renovations. I think this would be a good opportunity for the two of you to show me what you’ve learned. I give you half a year to finish it, and then, you’ll be done with your mentorship.” He said, voice wispy like a proud father recalling the time when his children were just small, not looking at them, all grown up, he can’t help but tear up.

You and Minghao look at each other, unable to fathom this amazing opportunity that has presented itself to you. You and Minghao eagerly accept the offer, excitedly heading out to check out the said church so you two can plan out what to do for the mural.

The people attending the church are already briefed on the situation, happily showing you around their shiny new church, happy to find new artists to commission for this project. You and Minghao take photos of the interior, wanting to plan around the implements and fixtures, to give everything a cohesive look.

You and Minghao do this for hours walking around the city to look for inspiration along the way, taking in all the sights you didn’t have the chance to take in before. The city was filled with inspiration, ideas flowed out the both of you like a river, and it was so easy to find passion for this project. With a giant canvas and free reign to paint whatever, you and Minghao felt like kids at a candy store.

But suddenly, the sky started to grumble, clouds darkening in a tell-tale way. You hadn’t anticipated the rain, so you both scramble to find shelter as the rain starts to pour. Taking shelter under the awning of an abandoned shop, you both watch as the rain pools and puddles around you. You turn to Minghao, he was a little damp but relatively dry, water dripping from his hair, soaking into his clothes. His mouth was slightly parted from panting, the unexpected run knocked the wind out of both of you.

 At that moment, Minghao looked delectable.

“Hao?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He only smiles at your question, leaning down to softly press his lips to yours. He had an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, pressing his body to yours. You can feel the warmth of his skin radiating under his clothes, warming you up from the chill of the rain. 

You felt a little light-headed, not just from the lack of air, but because you didn’t expect a random blurt of your desire would lead to Minghao kissing you breathlessly. Not that you’re complaining, not at all, in fact, this made you want him more, softly moaning against his lips before pulling away, remembering that you’re in public. 

“Oh, wow, um.” You start, heads still spinning from the dizzying kiss Minghao had pulled you into. 

He just laughed his signature laugh, joy coursing through his veins. How could he not be happy? An amazing opportunity to advance his career, getting to spend the day in the city with someone he cares deeply for, and getting to kiss her in the rain? Oh, he’s weak in the knees.

This day was perfect, you were perfect. Minghao couldn’t ask for anything more.

You and Minghao started the mural for the cathedral, buzzing with excitement for your first big project, as well as your budding romantic relationship with him. The two of you work on opposite ends of the mural, working to meet each other halfway, and taking the time to get the details down before moving on to the next section. 

In a way, this was reminiscent of how you and Minghao are taking the steps to make this relationship work. Though unlikely that you’d meet like this, you still did, and you’d like to believe it was fate. Both of you agreed not to put a label on it just yet, just enjoying each other's company, and exploring the possibilities of this new romance.

You sneak glances at him every so often, his face scrunched in concentration, focusing on perfecting the sections of the mural he assigned himself to. And sometimes, when he looks back at you, his face instantly relaxes and glows. You love how expressive his face is, almost as if you could tell what he was thinking about at any point. It comforts you how open he is, knowing that he looks at you with genuine affection and adoration. It's fun, it's freeing to feel this way about someone who feels just as strongly.

The two of you worked on the mural until lunch when the two of you decided to take a short break, “Maybe I’ll take this opportunity to take you out on a proper date.” He said cheekily, offering his arm for you to hold.

“Oh, that’d be great. We keep passing by this one restaurant that I’ve been dying to try.” It was an open-concept place, clean and modern but it didn't give off “steak dinner” vibes, it just seemed like a nice sit-down place to have lunch or brunch, if you’re of the local housewife type.

Asking the waitress at the front for a table for two, the two of you were promptly seated at a table facing the street, offering the both of you the menu. Apparently, the menu changes seasonally, this time they offered a variety of vegan dishes, which intrigued you. You never realized vegetables could be cooked in so many different ways.

Your food was served, and the conversation between you and Minghao flowed like free orange juice refills. You both enjoy your lunch, more than you usually do, you don’t know if the food was actually good, or if the company just made it better, but either way, you don’t think you could enjoy a meal without Minghao anymore.

He’s just so charming, kind, and funny. So, so funny. The tables around you started to look at you two funny for all the giggles coming from your table specifically. The restaurant being open-air doesn’t even help to dampen the sounds of your joy, even the hustle and bustle of the street fade to the background with him. It’s just you, and Minghao, and the delicious veggies the two of you decided to have for lunch.

Lunch was over before you realized it. Minghao flags down the waitress, asking for the bill and paying for it himself, much to your protests. Yet, those fall on deaf ears as he winks at you. Offering his arm for you to take again before walking back to the cathedral to continue working on your mural.

The two of you continue to act like love-struck fools, much to the church staff’s chagrin, but it's not like either of you cared, you enjoy his company, and you, his. You haven’t brought up the kiss from before, but you wanted to, mainly to ask him for another one. 

Minghao really wasn’t the type for much skinship, but it’s not as if he’s opposed to it. If you asked, he’d comply. He’s willing to do many things for you, or with you. Minghao thinks it’s too early to call it love, definitely, but it’s really really close to it.

He adores you to no end, no words could describe how much you became an important part of his life in just a few short months. And getting to work with you on this? He almost couldn’t believe it.

Growing up, he always thought love like this only happened in movies or books. But he’s living it right now. He’s living in Europe, doing what he loves the most, and finding an unexpected light in his life. Maybe life does have things worth worrying about. 

Still, ever present in Minghao’s thoughts, is the sinking feeling of anxiety. It’s ugly, rearing its head whenever it can. The last time he felt this strongly about something, it nearly broke him. Minghap always felt too hard, nothing is ever ‘just’ happy or ‘just’ sad for him. His loyalty and devotion is both a blessing and a curse. 

And yet, he still believes in love.

He’s a hopeless romantic, even if it’s scary, even if it’ll hurt, he still holds onto hope that he could get away with it. Making a religion of your lips, worshiping the false god that is your adoration for each other.

It’s ironic to think like that in the middle of a cathedral he thinks, yet, he’s not guilty, not after what the church has done to him, to his once level-headed father.

It was another day of working on the mural, this time, you and Minghao worked until the late hours of the night, until all the church staff bid both of you goodnight, leaving you two to work in the dim light of the chandelier.

“Hey, have I ever told you that this is the first time I went inside a church since I was seventeen?” Minghao started, concentrating on his section of the mural, painting the rosy cheeks of a cherub.

“Huh? No, you haven’t. Why did you stop going to church? If you don’t mind me asking.” You said, a little startled from being broken out of your concentration.

“It’s simple really, my values didn’t align with the church anymore. And, I may have been  in love with a man at the time.” He joked, chuckling at the end of his sentence as if he was reminiscing about something humorous. 

You nod, “You know, I haven’t been in a church for about as long.” you say, setting your brush down to continue speaking, taking a short break to avoid cramping your hand. “I didn’t like how I was basically brainwashed all my life to devote my time and soul to the church, I didn’t feel a connection to religion anymore, not after what my group told me after what that priest did to me.”

Minghao’s expression softened, shoulders dropping with his grip on the brush relaxing. “That’s terrible, I’m sorry that happened to you.” He said, also resting his brush. He walked towards you, offering a hand to help you get off the floor. You take his hand, muttering thanks, and you follow him to the back of the church, in the pews nearest to the altar.

“You know, sometimes I feel as if some unknown force led us to meet each other.” Minghao started, “Think about it, how is it that we’re the only two people in the mentorship program, and how have we managed to fit together so perfectly? I think,” Minghao pauses to lick his lips, “if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have felt this way about them.” 

“I know that confession was a little misplaced, especially after what you just told me. But I just wanted to give you context for my offer,” He said, taking your hand, the warmth of his palm radiating to yours, warming it up, “I want to give your power back to you, I like you a lot, too much really. Ever since that first day, you made me breakfast. And I’d do anything to take that pain away from you.”

“Minghao…” You said, “I like you a lot too. I’m flattered by your confession, and so moved by your offer. But I can’t seem to figure out what your offer is supposed to mean.” 

“You were attacked at a church, violently, as if your body wasn’t yours for a time. I want to override those memories with ours, make it your choice. To have an outlet for your anger.”

You openly gape at him, not believing his offer. He wanted to…?

“Minghao, I want you.” 

It felt cathartic to say that, especially in a place you’d never think to say that. It was satisfying as if a weight had been lifted from you, the burden of memory weighing on your chest being removed, like the first time you could breathe freely again.

Mingahao gently cups your cheek, stroking the flushed skin with the pad of his thumb, slowly turning your head to face him, his lips hovering over yours, “I want you too.” He said before locking lips with you. 

Your hands immediately find their place at the back of his neck, fingers threading to the soft ends of his hair, pressing him closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes. Your skin felt hot, like desire was just boiling under your skin, blooming on the surface as a flush of red. Minghao crowds you, kissing you with want, with need. He kissed you, letting his hands do what his lips wanted to, his faith turning into despair. The tragedy of not having a taste of your skin yet, swirls in his gut, manifesting in desperation. He kissed you with urgency, as if this was the only chance to have you like this, his greed taking over his thoughts as it filled his mind with images of you in the most depraved positions, your usually clean image tainted with evidence of his lust.

After all, Minghao is just a man, a man who now finds religion in your lips.

He reluctantly parts from you, surprising you with his strength but lifting you suddenly, walking the short way to the altar. His plans dawn on you as soon as you feel the cool marble under you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you lock your lips with his again, moaning pathetically and the feeling of his palms snaking their way under your shirt, squeezing and kneading the flesh, taking handfuls of it as he needed it.

He parts from your lips with a whine, panting for air like just running a marathon. He only parts from you for a second, only for his mouth to connect with your jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses on it. Goosebumps litter your skin, his simple touch leaves you shivering in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your legs part and Minghao takes his place between them, now sucking and biting marks into your skin, maroon blooms all over your collarbones, as you pull him impossibly close, bodies flush together perfectly as if it was always meant to be.

You paw at his jacket, wanting to feel him without the barriers of fabric between the two of you. He frantically shrugged his jacket off, and pulled his shirt over his head without being prompted, using his weight to press you down into the marble altar. Takes his time to unbutton your shirt, kissing the skin with every button he undoes.

Warmth ripples under your skin like drops hitting the surface of a still body, each kiss sending a spark of heat directly to your core. Simple, but powerful. The way Minghao delicately worships your skin made a sense of serenity wash over you like a wave, crashing over your restless state.

Minghao rises to meet your lips, again, swallowing the sound of your moans, nipping at your lips. His hard cock presses into your core through his pants, layers of fabric between the places where you needed each other the most. Desperation turns into slight relief from the pressure of your bodies pressing together. 

He takes his time to strip you of your effects, taking time to peel it off of you with care. This is the first time he's seen you in such a compromising position, yet you don't feel pressured or nervous at all. The way he looks at you, it's as if you hung the stars in the sky one by one, just for you to take them in your eyes, a galaxy of secrets waiting to be uncovered; and you're willing to let him explore.

Minghao falls to his knees, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs. He presses kisses on your kneecap, slowly inching his way to your core, lips brushing against your skin, making you shiver. You watch as his head of hair reaches the apex of your thighs, placing a kiss on your pelvis, right above where you need him.

He looks up at you briefly, eyes locking with yours as if asking for permission to just dive right in. You nod, giving him the silent permission to do so. He smiles, his eyes fluttering shut as his mouth connects with your core, lips wrapping around your throbbing clit.

Your back arches from the marble, hands frantically searching for his head, threading your fingers through his hair to get a grip on anything. The way the wet muscle that was his tongue guided the swirl of hot desire in your stomach made you dizzy, his eyes shut tightly, and small whimpers left his lips, making you feel the vibrations.

He ate you like a starved man, “Oh, fuck, please-! Keep going!” The frantic pace of his mouth and tongue got more desperate with your praise, your encouragement made him press his face closer to your core, his jose bumping your clit, making him breathe in deep, taking in your scent.

His eyes flutter open at the smell, eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a pathetic, high-pitched whine leaves his lips. His tongue pressed against the spongey spot in your walls, immediately this sends a shiver down your spine, your moans turning into desperate whines, grinding on his mouth.

And Minghao just stops to take it, exaggerating his moans to help you over the edge.

A knot starts to form in your core, only a mixture of pleas of his name leaves your lips as you topple over the edge, reaching your high. Your orgasm was blinding, a hot, white pleasure ripped through you, your body shaking from the impact of such a powerful climax.

Minghao groans as he savors the flavor of your release, drinking it like a sacred Ambrosia. He delicately licks at your folds, careful not to bump into your sensitive clit.

After being satisfied with cleaning you up, Minghao starts to unbuckle his belt, his pants hanging low on his hips. He finally takes his cock out of his boxer briefs, the tip is red and bulbous, angry and leaking. His mouth parts with a moan, licking his plump lips, finally getting the friction he so desperately wanted.

He gets on top of you, his warmth radiating off of him in waves. He brings a hand up to brush your hair away from your face, soaking up every detail, committing the look in your eyes to memory. He looks at you with adoration, eyes clouded with lust yet still shines with the respect he has for you as a person.

In his eyes you were perfect, especially with that fucked-out look on your face, panting and shaking under him.

He kisses you again, this time with less desperation. You could taste yourself on his lips, highlighting your desire for more. He finally guides his cock to your entrance, the tip of it bumping into your clit, a gasp falling from your lips.

You look up at Minghao, a halo of many colors forming around his head, the cross-shaped stained glass behind him glowing brightly in the full moonlight. If it wasn't for the depraved things he's done to you, you'd think that he looked angelic.

Finally, he slowly pushed his cock into you, a shaky breath leaving his lips, taking every ounce of self-control to not start frantically thrusting into you, letting you take the time to adjust to his size. Minghao was bigger than you thought he'd be, the sheer size of his cock stretching you deliciously. 

He pressed your foreheads together, your breathing synchronized. You open your hand on his chest, pressing your palm over his heart, you can feel the steady beating of it, and you can feel him breathe with you. The silence only amplified the feeling of being connected, a kind of vulnerability that you’ve never felt with anyone else before.

You savor his warmth, his closeness to you, before asking him to move. He nods wordlessly, not trusting his voice at the moment. He was buried to the hilt, but he slowly started to pull back until only his head stayed inside you, only to push back in, a wet, lewd squelch of your juices mixing with his echo and rung in your ears.

He started to pick up his pace, intertwining your hands together to gain leverage. “Fuck, you feel so good babe, so warm. So perfect for me.” He said lowly, mind emptying all thoughts except for the feeling of you around him. He can't get enough of you, your image infecting his mind, making a home in every crevice. 

Both of you were very vocal about how good it felt, pleasure rising to a pressure that made both of you light-headed, your grip on his hand tightening with every pointed thrust to the spot where you needed him the most.

His lips meet your neck again, more maroon marks blooming over your skin, marking you with evidence of him. He separated from the skin with a wet pop, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hair tickling the skin, “Please, I need you to cum around my cock. Don't make me beg for it, please, oh- please-” he whimpered in your ear, breathless from the force he was using. 

He turns to kiss you again, both of you swallowing each other's whines and moans as your desperation grows stronger. 

Soon, the coil in your stomach starts to tighten again, you can't hear much over the ringing in your ears, but you do hear the wet slapping of skin together, and the ragged breathing coming from the man above you. You barely registered your own orgasm, you felt like you weren't in your body, like your soul was floating in the space where you felt neither pain nor pleasure. 

Tears ran down your face, your body shaking like a leaf. Minghao watched as your juices squirted out of you, coating his cock and legs with your release. This violently sends him into his own orgasm, barely catching himself with the altar as the force of it knocks the wind out of him, his knees shaking, barely able to hold his weight up.

He almost collapsed into you with how much his body couldn't handle the sensations, his hips never ceasing even with both of your oversensitivity.

He finally stops, both of you winded from the intensity of your sex. He kisses you with finality that night, right at the altar with the light of the cross over you.

It's been months since you and Minghao started the mural, and also started hooking up. The first time you slept with him was certainly not the last. You were sure you desecrated every inch of this sacred space, as well as every corner of your shared apartment. 

But, all good things come to an end. 

Today was the day you finally added the finishing touches to the mural, marking the end of your program, and the end of your time in Amsterdam. 

Your mentor was pleased with how it turned out, he was proud of how far the both of you have gotten in your skills. And decided to throw a party in his studio to celebrate the completion of your final project. 

You and Minghao skirt around the idea of what will happen next after the program ends, enjoying the company of your mentor and the few friends you've made in Amsterdam. 

It was after the party that things finally started to feel grim, each item you packed into your suitcase felt like heavy weights or a nail in the coffin of your relationship with Minghao.

You couldn't fathom going back to reality, back to your lonely apartment without the anticipation of waking up and making breakfast for him. 

You realized too late that you loved him.

“What happens to us now?” His question surprised you, you didn't think he was thinking about this as hard as you were. 

“Well, we go back to where we came from. Go on with our lives, I guess.” You reply, too cowardly to admit what you truly felt, as it'll only hurt more.

“That's it?” He asked incredulously, “You don't want to even try to make this work?” His tone wasn't one of anger or disappointment, Minghao had always been an expressive person, but this was something worse. Hurt.

“Minghao I-” You start, but he cuts you off,

“Well, you know what? Okay. It's okay- just… if there's ever a next time. Meet me in Amsterdam. Please, at least, try for me?”

You nod, your breathing becoming shaky as tears begin to well in your eyes. You hug him tightly, almost as if it'll be the last time you ever see him.

But no, there will be a next time. No matter how long it'll take.

You let the tears fall when the plane finally took off. 

It's been several years since your time in Amsterdam, your experience there marked you in more ways than one. 

Your art career found success after the mural you worked on with him received critical acclaim. Opening galleries and exhibits all around the world, people enjoy the art you made greatly. 

You find yourself in the place where it all started, Amsterdam. 

“So, there really is a next time, huh?” You said, your voice was calmer than you expected it to be, especially with being overcome with such intense emotions.

Minghao smiles at you, wordlessly coming in to hug you.

“I'm not letting you go, not this time.”

[madwomansapologist]

Please share your headcanon about gale's kinks!!!!

gale's kinks/turn ons

Navigation | More Wizard of Waterdeep | AO3

synopsis: A deep dive into what the smart wizard man think it's hot. Yes, the brain rot is that serious.

warnings: i'm sick so if this isn't good i will blame the pills. testing a new format. this is about sex, don't interact if you're a minor. remember: if you kink shame me i will get horny just to spite you.

PRAISE KINK

That's a man willing to write poetry about your body, mind and soul. His tongue has only two purposes on life, and both of them involve making you see stars. If his mouth isn't in use, he will be praising you.

And when Gale feels so good he can't even speak, isn't that a praise on itself?

But that we all know. His reaction to receiving praise is what makes me want to bite my fingers off.

Gale Dekarios knows his value as a wizard, but not as a man. His ambition isn't a consequence of his desire to pursue more, but to be more. To deserve love, he must prove his worth. As we all know, it often doesn't end in a good way.

I don't think Mystra ever wasted her precious time to assure Gale of the contrary. And when she did, it wasn't about Gale Dekarious: it was about Gale of Waterdeep, her chosen. How his control of the weave was impressive, how he could conjure any sort of images, how his illusions could fool everyone.

So when he receives praise for any other part of his life that isn't his academic pursues, a part of his brain burns. Be as intricate as his poetry or as lascive as one can be, Gale can feel his knees getting weak. Weaker.

FOOD PLAY

Not only Gale loves to cook and bake, but he loves the whole idea of being responsible for making someone stronger and healthier. Hunger is a hurtful thing, that he knows, and he don't want anyone else to deal with it.

It comes hand to hand with his praise kink. When you eat something good, you don't need to use words: your whole body shows it. He would apreciate the compliments, nonetheless.

To spoon feed you would be such a turn on. It's so intimate, such a show of trust and care, nothing but human. The way your mouth opened for the spoon, how your tongue licked it clean. Can you blame him?

After helping you eat, it would be his turn to end his hunger. You don't mind being his plate, do you? Gale promises to lick you clean. You always taste so sweet for him, what's a bit of honey to add to that?

OLFACTOPHILIA

Your scent can turn him into a fucking mess. There is something so human about it. So natural and real about it. Is just you.

After a fight, when you are covered in sweat and blood, he can't help himself. To be around you can make him drool. You fresh from your shower, smelling just as you and not as any perfume. When you spend the day laying around and is too lazy to get clean.

The amount of times his cheeks burned red because he breathed in when you walked past and a companion noticed can't be numbered.

Gale prefers to undress you rather you doing it yourself. That means he will be able to breath deep against your undies before getting them off of you.

Wanna get him as hard as a rock in mere seconds? Give him a underwear you used for a long time. Just threw it at his face and go on with your day. He will be quick to follow.

Gale loves how he can still smell you on his upper lip after going down on you. If you squirt, he will cum on his trousers. I don't make the rules.

FACE-SITTING/FACE FUCKING

Again: his mouth has only two uses. Is almost therapeutic for him. Just get on top of him, use his mouth however you want. The place in between your legs seen perfect for him to die on.

Gale Dekarios is a service top looking for a pillow princess/prince. I VOLUNTEER!

FINGERS IN MOUTH

You know that feeling of not knowing what to do next? Where to put your hands, what to do with your mouth? Since he prefers to be the one doing things, this can be a problem. A problem that can be easily solved by your pretty fingers.

It can hit even harder if he's in the process of casting something and you stop him by just putting your fingers into his mouth. Gale won't even know hot to react. Actually, he might suck them.

Ok, he might have a oral obsession. What are you, Freud?

BONDAGE

Hand to hand with that sort of anxiety about what he must do next. Make sure Gale stays put in place and use him. Remember guys, your service tops also deserve to be fucked around a bit.

Magic restrains or ropes, and make sure to do some beautiful knots. He could break free from them, but Gale won't desobey. Not after you spend so long getting him ready for you.

shadowheart turn ons/kinks

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[foone]

BTW as a trekkie the funniest thing you can do is find someone who isn't and try to explain Spock's Brain to them.

"so trek got canceled after two seasons, but fans launched a massive letter-writing campaign and got it renewed. First time that'd happened in the history of TV, I believe. They came back with an episode called Spock's Brain."

"interesting. So what's the plot?"

"aliens steal Spock's Brain"

"what. And what else?"

"no that's pretty much it. His brain gets stoled. They have to go find it."

"huh. Why do the aliens steal it?"

"they need a computer to run their society."

"and they decide to use Spock's Brain?"

"yep! So the Enterprise crew rigs up a remote control device for Spock's body so they can drive it around like a toy car, and go looking for his brain."

"wait. They don't leave it behind in, like, medical stasis?"

"nah they're worried they won't be able to get the brain back to his body in time. So they bring it along. As a remote controlled body. They've got a little remote with like 5 buttons. Walk forward, turn left, turn right, Kung-fu attack, and so on"

"attack?"

"yeah they have to fight off the aliens at one point. With Spock's body."

"huh."

"the best part? The ultimate moral of the episode seems to be against gender segregation"

"WHAT"

"yeah see the aliens who stole Spock's Brain are a bunch of cavemen living on the nuclear-winter surface and a bunch of women living below ground, with PAIN RAYS. the women steal Spock's Brain to run their society, because they're not smart enough to run their machines."

"that seems... Sexist?"

"yeah a bit. So at the end when they get Spock's Brain back, they solve the society's problems by convincing them to reintegrate the sexes and work together on solving their problems. Also Kirk says something like 'in time you'll learn that women can provide not only pain, but pleasure!' to the cave men"

"... Do the women have pleasure rays too?"

"no. He's not talking about that. Anyway this is all skipping over the fact that when they meet up with the alien woman they saw steal Spock's Brain, she doesn't know how to put it back in. Or take it out. She doesn't know what a brain is."

"what"

"yeah she was sent on this mission by the old computer that was failing, and it used a Teacher Machine to temporarily give her SUPER SURGERY skills to get the brain out."

"so she went from not knowing what a brain is to being able to do neurosurgery?"

"yeah. And here's the thing: McCoy can't put the brain back in either. It's too compilated for him."

"so they went searching for Spock's Brain, knowing that they had no way to put it back in?!"

"exactly! So McCoy gets taught how to do Super Brain Surgery by the Teacher Machine, and he starts putting Spock's Brain back in his body, but the skills wear off before he can finish"

"they wear off?"

"yeah you only get them for a few hours. So he has the brilliant idea of hooking up Spock's vocal cords so that Spock can walk him through hooking up the rest of his brain."

"there are so many reasons why that doesn't make sense"

"YEP! THAT'S SPOCK'S BRAIN!"

"so this was a guest writer who never worked before or again, right?"

"no, it was Gene Coon. He wrote like 15 episodes, most of them pretty good, and went on to do some other scifi films. He's the guy who created Khan."

"why do you like Star Trek again?"

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Hi thank u for opening asks! Can I request headcanons for the male companions (and or gortash Raphael and the emperor) having a mute s/o either because they can’t talk or they’re very shy

A/N: Here ya go! Managed to get everyone to stay mostly in character. Please be warned there are hints of nsfw for each character, although nothing graphic in nature. And that the entries for Gortash and Raphael describe abusive relationships, so heed the trigger warnings below. 

🔇 Mute!Reader HC x BG3 Males: 🔇

TW: Domestic Abuse & Vaguely NSFW Content

(Abuse and Manipulation for the Gortash & Raphael ones. Also allusions to sex throughout each entry.)

Astarion: 

He’s suspicious of you at first. Even more so that you don’t talk. But if you prove you’re  not a threat in other ways, he doesn’t actually mind it all that much. He talks to you about the same. A good amount of what he says is either posturing or complaining- and that doesn't change just because you can’t talk back. If anything, he complains even more, knowing you wont tell him to shove off like the others. He greatly enjoys how dramatic he gets to be around you. He’ll lean against a city wall and dramatically lay the back of his hand over his face: ‘I tell you Darling, it’s like these people don’t notice me at all!’ You blink at his outburst, your expression unchanged, clearly unamused. 

Still says lots of witty comments under his breath, and subtly looks over at you to see if you’ve smirked or blushed in response. Gets really good at reading all the little reactions you make. He makes a mental catalog of every half smirk, every eye twitch, every shoulder shrug, so that he knows how you feel about something he or another has said.

Appreciates the fact that you’re unlikely to repeat anything he says to you, which makes him feel all the safer confiding in you about his condition and his past, knowing you can’t go sounding the alarm. 

Ends up going on tangents or rants about the others while you just sit there and kind of grimace, empathetically. He knows it can get annoying to just have to listen, but he’s extremely grateful for the outlet. Cazador certainly never cared what he was feeling. Nor did any of his ‘siblings’. But with you, he can bitch about his day only to turn around and find you still there, listening intently. 

Becomes a lot touchier. Like a lot. He switches from checking to verbal confirmation to physical confirmation. Takes your hand, or pulls you close, squeezes your shoulder- those sorts of things. 

Personally takes it as a challenge to see how loud he can get you to be when you’re intimate together ;) 

Gale: 

Doesn’t notice immediately lol. He’s too busy being overjoyed at the fact you don’t interrupt his long winded, pun-filled speeches to even consider it’s due to a disability or something similar on your part. He just thinks you’re the most wonderful listener. And of course, this makes him fall head over heels for you lol.

Once he does get it, he just sort of goes, ‘Oh.’ And lets that sit in the air. (He’s a bit awkward around you for a while, unsure of how to apologize, so you’d probably need to approach him and make your forgiveness known.) 

Once that misunderstanding is over, he immediately becomes occupied with finding spells to help you talk. If that’s something you want, you appreciate the effort, and let him know you’re in no rush. If that’s something you’re not interested in, you tell him as much. He’s a little disappointed and taken off guard. He explains he’s always used magic to solve his problems. You raise your brow and give him a look that says ‘And that’s been working well for you, has it?’ He relents after that. 

The two of you get really good at reading each other’s faces. And Gale takes it upon himself to talk less as well, even though you explain he doesn’t have to. He insists, saying he wants to understand what your life is like. He lasts like two days lol. 

Becomes mostly competent at understanding what you’re saying either via sign or body language, but occasionally Tera has to translate for you. Thank the gods for tressyms.

Wyll: 

Is momentarily taken aback, embarrassed by his concern he was being rude to you before, assuming you could talk to him but were choosing not to. Apologizes, profusely, for the misunderstanding on his part. 

Learns to communicate with you through other means, be it writing, or by whatever the Faerun equivalent of sign language is. He’s not the best at it, but he tries really hard to learn. Picks up basic phrases like greetings, and moods. Does request that you slow down if you’re fluent, to give his brain time to catch up. 

Doesn’t let anyone in the group make petty or passive aggressive comments while giving them a look or chewing them out. He’s very serious about it. The next time Astarion says something off the cuff, Wyll responds with, ‘Well, Astarion, I’d assume you of all people would be used to it being quiet. Having only the other rats of Baldurs Gate as friends for years.’ He’ll go for the jugular- he doesn't give af! No one gets to make you feel bad about it.

Considers going to Shadowheart or Halsin, or even Gale and asking them if there’s something they can do to help you/your condition, but that’s only with your blessing of course. He wants to help you, but doesn’t want to overstep. 

Comes to appreciate how honest you are in your other reactions- your eyes and your body language. Wyll is used to being deceived- by demons, humans, and the like- so he thinks it’s so special he can read you like a book. Whether you’re strolling through Baldur’s Gate, or enjoying your marital bed, it matters greatly to him how you truly feel and think. He’s glad he’s able to share your truth with him. 

Halsin: 

Catches on fairly quickly, although he doesn’t bring it up to you directly. He figures you will bring it up when you are ready to discuss it, and in the meantime, he would not want to pry. Listens intently when you tell him by checking in with your facial expression as he reads your writing. 

Tries to find ways to help you with what you can do. Suggests maybe enchanting a feather pen and scroll or some chalk and a small board to write out what you’re thinking so others can understand how it is you feel in real time. He offers his druid magic to do whatever you need. Hell, he even considers mentoring you to see if you feel nature’s calling. If you were a druid, perhaps you could develop a relationship with an animal companion, say a bird, or an awakened rat, or a giant eagle and get them to speak for you. 

Similar to Wyll, Halsin will try to learn sign language if that’s something you speak. However he isn’t the most adept at it. He’s very used to spellcasting, which requires at least one free hand, often his dominant hand. So he tries learning sign with his nondominant hand, but that makes it all the more difficult. He knows the alphabet, but that’s about it. You will have to slowly spell out your sentences word by word in order for him to get the gist. 

Makes sure you’re either safely hidden away at camp, or stay within his sight during a battle. He knows you cannot cry out for help, so he wants to make sure he can keep an eye on you throughout any conflict. 

Loves just being close to you. Swears he can hear the intention of your heart when the two of you are so close. He wants to assure you, your difference doesn’t make him love you any less. If anything, he is impressed with how much you continue to adapt to and overcome. He’ll say, ‘You need not speak for me to know your voice, my heart. One look in your eyes, and I know, it is an internal melody so beautiful, all of nature could not compare.’ He’ll place soft touches to your skin and face, and check your reaction before progressing any further. He thinks being intimate with you is the best way to express your emotions as a couple. After all, sex is the most ancient language of all.

Minsc: 

He doesn’t get it until Boo points it out to him lol. And even after being told, he still forgets from time to time. 

Minsc loves to talk. Well brag. And boast. And speak in the third-person. So he’s not thrown off by you having to refer to yourself with body language or with possessive pronouns in Common writings. 

He will ask you lots of questions, all throughout the day. Some are obvious and others are seemingly random, and difficult to explain with your words limited to being written down as fast as you can before Minsc’s mind wanders and changes the subject. It’s a workout for your wrists honestly. 

He will loudly announce that you’re mute every time you meet new people. ‘This is (Y/N), my dear love, she cannot speak. So (Y/N) will write her answers for Boo. And Boo will tell me. Then Minsc may tell you.’ You keep trying to tell him, the system doesn’t need Boo and him to interpret for you, especially if you’re already recording your answers in Common for others to read. 

He will never let you apologize for not being able to speak. He refuses to see it as a problem. ‘Minsc speaks loud enough for both of us, no?’ He thinks you’re the most wonderful person around. He could have his pick of the crop, and yet he chose you. Trust him, you’re the person he wants to be with more than anything. 

Gortash:

Actually kind of prefers lovers who don’t talk back, lol. He’s a very insecure man when it comes to his character. He’s cunning and wise, but clawed his way out of hell (quite literally) and the self-critical voice in his head never silences. So he’s oddly comforted that you can’t demean his temperament. 

He won’t try to fix it, nor will he allow you to try and change it in any sort of way. He doesn’t want you to go babbling on about his plans or how he is behind closed doors. That information cannot be getting out. So no, you will not be allowed any magic or spells to help you communicate. 

He will open up to you on occasion in private. The longer you’re together, the more safe he feels like confiding in you. If you feign sympathy, or if you are in fact sympathetic to his backstory, he’ll feel something akin to love for you. It’s not quite love. It’s much more logical, more calculating and pragmatic than that. But it’s about as close as you’d get with him. 

Likes how you have little to no choice other than to stay at his side and listen to him intently. He loves watching all your little apprehensive reactions when beckons you closer and pulls you into his lap. How your pulse races, how your breath quickens, he knows how his proximity makes you feel, even if you can’t open your mouth to speak the words. Besides, he’s very sure your mouth will be good for, let’s just say, other things. 

He will allow you to write him little notes here and there, but only in his office, and only when no one else is around. He’s rather paranoid that way. But he’s also rather pleased how it means you must keep seeking him out during his working hours. He’s under no false impression that he's the kindest lover. But you can’t leave him. You need him. He’s the only one who’s allowed to understand you. And he intends to keep it that way. 

Raphael: 

Like Gortash, Raphael feels a sort of sick satisfaction over the fact you can’t talk back to him. But then on the other hand, he feels a sort of sick disappointment that he can’t torture you into making all those sweet pathetic noises for him. So it’s 50/50 with him. 

He will consider giving you a voice via deviant magic if it means he can hear you beg. It drives him absolutely wild, and he refuses to go completely without it. Takes said voice away if you venture too far into brat territory, or you directly insult him. It’s a privilege for you to even look upon him, how dare you use the gift he gave you against him?

Has Harleep babysit you when he isn’t there. You can’t exactly call for help, and Raphael’s house isn’t safe for you to be wandering about unsupervised. 

Enjoys the look of pure frustration on your face when you try learning to write in Infernal, only to fail miserably. He thinks you’re adorable all revved up. He will read the notes you write in Common, he just doesn’t always respond to them. Despite his refusal to acknowledge most of them, you can tell he understands them, based on how large that vein on his forehead gets lol.

He will let you choose whether or not to have a voice during certain moments of pleasure; well, mostly pleasure. He loves the little gasps and moans you make, it fuels his lust for you even more. Then again, he doesn’t need to hear the sweet cries of your pretty voice to know whether he’s on the right track. ‘I can sense your heartbeat, little mouse,’ he'll whisper to you. Your body reveals to Raphael all there is to know, whether you want it to or not. 

The Emperor: 

It literally doesn’t matter. Dude’s telepathic lol. 

Wishes you’d become an illithid so you’d be telepathic too. Almost doesn’t take no for an answer on that one. 

Ultimately ends up relishing in the fact he alone can understand you- your wants, your needs, your dreams, and hopes. It makes him feel all the more powerful. 

Will give you the play-by-play about the Nether Brain and the Chosen Three because he’s been dying to tell someone, and he knows you can’t go running in the streets telling everyone and ruining his hopes of manipulation. Mainly because you don’t talk but also because he’s not letting you leave his realm lol, no way in hell. 

If you really don’t feel at home here, ‘You could always,’ he’ll suggest coyly, ‘Become one of us.’ You don’t even have to shake your head to tell him ‘no’. Your facial expression does all the talking for that one. 

[pinkgic]

tw: smut (mdni), degradation kink, rough and unprotected sex

he's been using you, at least partly. after all the drama with tashi's injury and art telling him to fuck off, he needed something to keep him around stanford, a way to stay relevant in their lives. he already felt like he was on the outside looking in.

but you don't really care. i mean... he's got that big dick, skilled hands, knows exactly how to use ‘em, and he's just as freaky as you are. it makes it easy to forget you're more of a trophy or a simple plaything to him. something to show off.

“oh, baby,” patrick wraps his arm around your lower stomach, thrusting deep, pulling a high-pitched moan out of you. “fuck, yeah.”

the bed creaks, slamming against the wall of your dorm room. lucky for you, your roommate isn't here tonight. but with the way you're moaning, everyone nearby knows exactly who's making you scream. and you know damn well the rumors (ones that fit into an entirely different category) will spread fast. it’s only a matter of time before art and tashi hear about it. checkmate.

he is a clever bastard.

“patrick, please,” you cry out, pressing your cheek into the mattress as he spanks you, grabbing a handful of your ass and leaving another red mark. you know you'll be sore after hours of this, and somehow, he's still got more in him.

“thought you said you could take it like the slut you are,” he sneers, grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, his hips pounding faster. your thighs are burning with each thrust. you’re exhausted, clenching around him, desperate to get him to cum, but he won’t stop. no matter how hard you try, he’ll keep going, leaving you wrecked.

you're barely able to catch your breath, the way he's pulling your hair, making every whimper, gasp, and moan louder. “ah—ha, p—patrick,” you cry out, your face flushed as he presses his sweaty, hairy chest against your back, sinking his teeth into your bare shoulder.

“yeah, feels good, doesn't it?” he grabs your chin, forcing you to nod, tears already blurring your vision. it’s too much, too good. your belly’s on fire, and your pussy is a slick mess, soaked with both your fluids and his. you should’ve thought twice when you told him he could fuck you raw!

he shoves his fingers into your mouth, that cocky smirk plastered on his face—the one that turns you on and pisses you off at the same time. oh, how he wishes you’d let him fuck your ass already. that would solve all his problems, getting the green light to fill every single one of your holes with his cum.