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authorhjk1 · 7 months

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A request for Sana's delicious tiddies please!

https://www.instagram.com/p/C0dZRXrvuyU/?igshid=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

The Roman goddess

Minatozaki Sana X Male Reader

The museum you are strolling through is called Castel Sant' Angelo. It used to be tomb for the Roman Emperor Hadrian and his family. Now, it's a very well known museum in Rome.

You admire the architecture and the sculptures standing around. The ceilings are quite high. All the walls are painted, the gorgeous colors bringing the ancient scenes to life.

You are not only here for fun though. It started around two years ago. Your career as an author. Until December two years ago, you did write, but it was more for yourself. You finally made your breakthrough with your first novel "The Roman eagle", about a lowly born Roman legionary, who rises through the ranks. You never thought this would make you big. And you didn't expect so many people wanting more. You didn't plan on it, but that one book is slowly turning into a series.

The second book came out at the end of last year. "The curse of Neptune". And now, you are working on your third. Since you didn't plan on writing a series, you have started to introduce several main characters with their own life stories.

You are now sitting on your third part. Not having a title yet, you keep wandering around the museum. You have already written quite a few pages, but the new character you want to introduce is hard to picture. It's supposed to be a woman. A woman, who is deceitful and ambitious, not caring about the ones around her. She only married her husband for his status and is now aspiring to climb the ranks. With or with out him.

You enter another room. The ceiling is high as well. The painted scenes show several different parts of day to day life from the Romans and their gods. The center of the room is reserved for a tall, almost life-size statue. Being an expert in history, especially Roman history, you can tell immediately that that's Venus. The goddess of love.

Wanting to have a closer look, you step forward. But your gaze is caught by the woman who is standing between you and the piece of art, her back turned towards you.

Her posture is flawless and you can't help but admire how straight her back looks, due to the white high heels she is wearing. The black skirt is quite long, almost reaching the floor. As you walk past her right, you see that it has a large slit in the front. Her naked leg is more than just captivating.

Glancing at the statue, you've always wondered how Venus would look like, if she was real. It feels like you might be able to paint a picture now.

The woman's white top is highlighting her chest, the fabric stretching over her tits. The turtle neck and the tied back hair make her look elegant and strict. Like a teacher or a rich man's wife.

Standing next to her, you smell her scent. Definitely flowers. Maybe roses? You were never the flower expert. Would Venus smell like this too? Roses are always considered the flowers of love. The idea doesn't seem too far fetched.

You notice that the young woman is standing quite close to the statue, holding a brochure in her hand. Usually, knowing about history isn't really a great turn on for women. But being in a museum, you might give it a try. She does have that classy look. So maybe she could be interested?

"Art and war should always be studied from a healthy distance."

You see her react. Not her face, since you are still standing two steps behind her, but the slight turn of her head. You could swear the corners of her mouth turned upwards, before she turns back towards the statue.

One step. Two steps. Her heels disrupt the silence in the otherwise empty room.

"A lot of people think that Venus and Aphrodite are the same goddess."

You were able to take a quick peek at the brochure she is holding. The people who work here should do a better job.

"But they have quite a couple of differences."

You wait a couple of moments. She doesn't say something or turns around. But she didn't run, which is at least a good start.

"While Aphrodite is the goddess of love, beauty and sex, Venus has to offer more than just that."

You walk behind the young woman, starting to feel comfortable, talking about a topic you are very familiar with.

"She actually started out as the goddess of gardens and vineyards. Before the Romans merged her with her Greek counterpart. And even then, she represents not just lust and sex. But also motherhood. You could say that she is a more loyal woman."

You glance at the woman, whom you are standing next to now. Her left side profile almost makes you stutter. She really must be a goddess.

Knowing that you might never meet someone like her ever again, you decide to shoot your shot. What's the worst that could happen? She could scream and run away. But it's only the two of you anyway.

"Which form is the one you can more easily identify with? The Roman, or the Greek one?"

You stand next to her, your shoulders almost touching. Turning your head towards her you almost whisper.

"Loyal? Or promiscuous?"

A smirk plays around the brunette's lips. She is not running yet.

But to your huge disappointment, she raises her right arm, her hand on the same hight as her chest. You are only distracted for a second, before you see the golden ring on her finger. It's decorated with a huge diamond in the center and a couple of smaller ones all around.

Of course she is married. A woman like her? Come on. You sigh internally. You should've figured.

"Promiscuous."

You were about to turn around as you hear her sweet voice. It takes you a second to realize what she says.

"I think I would be more like Aphrodite."

Is she saying you still have a shot? Even when she just showed you that she is married?

"Tell me more. I'm not sure if I can make a decision yet."

And she wants you to keep talking?

You take a deep breath, not wanting to screw this up.

"Venus has a more elevated status than Aphrodite. Her arguably most famous human son is Aeneas. The man who established Rome. A lot of emperors' wifes identified with Venus."

You see the woman tug a strand of her brown hair behind her ear.

"And you are saying that the Greek form wasn't as important?"

It's the first time she actually looks at you. Her beautiful features make her look way more elegant than from the side. Her lipstick makes her look stricter than she might usually would. You can tell that she is Asian, but not from which country.

"She was important. But not in the same way as Venus. She did have her own celebrations though."

The brunette is now fully turning towards you. It takes a lot of willpower to not look at her chest. It's almost as if she could sense your struggle. She places her hands on her hips, barely leaning forward. It makes her tits look just a little bigger.

"What kind of celebration?"

Her voice has changed. Until now, she spoke quiet. Just like someone should, while visiting a museum. But she is now whispering. Just like you did before. Her captivating gaze makes you stare into her eyes.

"A big part of the celebrations were Aphrodite's priestesses. The Greeks used a suiting form of worship for the goddess of love."

You take a step closer. Your shoe grazes hers. The smell of roses becomes a little stronger.

"They slept with her priestesses. That's how they worshipped her."

The brunette is unable to hold back her chuckle.

"And you are sure you didn't just make that up?"

For a moment her cute side shines through. She looks adorable when she smiles.

"I didn't. You can look it up."

"I don't want to though. I like listening to you."

"Well..."

You are too surprised to give a good answer. And there is not much more to say about the topic anyways.

The brunette seems to have caught up on that.

"What do you think about worshiping her now?"

"What?"

Your surprised face makes her almost moan out. You looked quite confident while hitting on her. The fact that you are getting shy is a turn on for her.

"There aren't many people here. And I think we should do it in front of the statue. You know? To pay our respects."

A million reasons why you shouldn't do this rush through your head. More than enough to say no. And yet, you can't help but catch yourself, leaning forward.

Your lips meet and you can immediately feel her hands wrap around your back. The kiss turns sloppy very fast. Pure lust and want radiate from her lips.

Once she breaks away, you can see that her lipstick is a little smeared. She seems to have recognized the worry in your eyes.

"Don't worry about my husband. Didn't Aphrodite constantly cheat on hers too?"

She got a point there. She did very much so.

Her lips meet yours once again. And this time your hands start to explore her body as well.

You still can't believe you've managed to come this far. She is probably the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She could be the human form of the goddess.

"How bad do you want my tits?"

The fact that she caught you doesn't even bother you. Your mind too focused on taking in her flawless body.

"Really bad."

Her lips meet your neck, definitely leaving a hickey there.

"Show me."

You start pulling at the white fabric, getting it out of her skirt. Your hands dive underneath as the brunette locks lips with you again.

The smoothness of her skin is intoxicating. Her tight midriff feels well toned and cared for. Your fingertips reach her bra as you continue your quest.

Her hands are not idle either. You feel one of them opening the button of your pants, while the other has taken a fistful of your shirt. It's as if she is pulling you into her. Her hand sneaks into your pants, her fingers searching for the waistband of your underwear.

At the same time, you've finally gotten rid of her bra. It slides down her clothed frame, before it falls to the ground. It's white.

Her tits feel amazing. They are just as smooth as her skin. You start to knead them, still unable to understand how you got here.

She is a goddess. How are you able to stand in some museum, while you play with her tits? A mystery you don't even want to uncover. Some things are better left unknown.

The brunette's hand has found it's way into your boxers by now. Her slim fingers dance along the length of your shaft.

A moan escapes her lips. It's one of the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard. You didn't know that a person could sound so perfect.

"That cock of yours...."

She trails off, slightly biting your lower lip.

"It feels so big."

Her words make you even harder. A normal reaction to a goddess like beauty telling you that you have a big dick. Something you thought you would never ever experience in your life.

Your hands become a little rougher as your animalistic instincts slowly take over. You never felt so uncontrollable before.

Pinching her nipples, you hope for another moan. You get one. She moans into your mouth, closing her hand around your cock.

"I want this in my mouth."

You feel her pulling away. Your hands regretfully leave her tits and her top. But when she starts to kneel down, a wave of pure happiness washes through your body.

An excited tingle rushes through every fiber of your being as you watch her pulling down your pants. Your boxers following quickly after.

A gasp escapes her mouth, when she sees your cock for the first time.

"My husband isn't even half as big."

With a big smile, her face turns into something very cute. She gives your tip a kiss.

"A cock worthy of fucking my tits."

Her words turn you on even more. Her lips slowly wrap around your tip.

It takes her a while to pick up the pace. But once the brunette is there, her blowjob is quick and effective. You remember that you are still in a museum, standing pants down in front of a statue of Venus.

You are not a very religious person. But in that moment, you pray to that goddess, thanking her for this incredible experience.

Your prayer is interrupted by the brunette's slurping sounds. Her wet blowjob has ruined her lipstick completely by now. She looks so hot with your cock in her mouth. She places both her hands flat on your hips, before starting to fuck her face onto your cock.

You can't help but let out a loud groan, your hand automatically wanders to the back of her head. You don't start to dictate the pace. But you feel her head going a little faster.

With a woman like her, it's obvious that you won't last long. Especially if said woman fucks her face with your cock. You feel your orgasm approaching. The familiar tug in your lower regions makes you groan.

The brunette seems to have felt you twitch inside her mouth. She moves away, letting your dick fall out off her lips.

"You have a very delicious cock, you know?"

Not waiting for an answer, she starts to pull up her top. It's bunched up above her breasts. You are finally able to see them now. They seem perfectly shaped. Flawless like the ones of a goddess. Not too small, but not too big either. Just perfect handfuls.

"Try not to cum so fast."

Her wink turns her into something cute for just a moment. Then, her goddess like aura is back.

You feel her soft mounds wrap around you. She presses them together, making your cock disappear between them. As soon as she seems ready, you start to thrust upwards. You see her bite her lip as your tip appears in her cleavage.

Fucking her tits feels amazing. It feels better than anything you've experienced before. There is no comparison at all. Her soft mounds feel like they are made for you. Her warmth makes you feel hot and horny.

Eventually, she starts to stick out her tongue. It touches your tip whenever you thrust upwards. The new wetness on your tip makes you remember that your orgasm is close. It also helps with sliding trough her chest.

You have to hold onto her hair again, unable to stand by yourself.

"Your cock feels so good."

You hear her sigh as she stares down at it.

She suddenly looks up, opening her mouth, while sticking her tongue out. Her spit slowly starts to drip down her tongue. You watch as she drools all over her own cleavage. Her saliva starts to coat your cock. It makes her tits feel even smoother.

The young woman let's out another moan.

"I bet you would feel so good in my pussy."

You close you eyes, imagining yourself inside of her. The thought alone, almost makes you orgasm.

"My husband is so small, I'm practically a virgin."

She continues her talking, knowing what it does to you.

"I've never felt the pleasure of someone just pounding into me. I want to feel it. I want to feel how you rearrange my guts."

You hiss out, unable to silence the pleasure that is building up in your system. Only a little longer. You only want to hold out a little longer.

"I have such a tight pussy. You would love it."

Your grip in her hair strengthens as you approach your climax.

"That's it. Cum on my tits. Make Venus proud."

You glance at the statue for just a second. It feels like the woman on her knees is the real goddess. A beauty, too much for you to handle.

"I'm gonna cum."

You grunt out, unable to hold on any longer.

"That's good, honey. Cum on my tits. Use them like a canvas."

You groan one last time.

"Give me all of it."

You explode in her cleavage. Your cum hits her throat and chin, while some coats her tits. It feels like this is the strongest orgasm you've ever had. More cum than usual leaves your body.

In the end, her tits are covered in your semen, just like she wanted. Some is dripping down her chin. You see that her hands didn't get away without some, either. A few drops of your cum stain the big diamond on her ring. She notices it as well.

You watch in awe as she starts to lick her ring clean, after letting your spent cock leave her tits.

"Wow. That's a great load."

She scoops up some of your cum with her finger.

"And it tastes good, too."

She licks it off, before looking at you.

"What do you say? Right here? Or a hotel room?"

The option to say no doesn't even enter your brain. Still afraid of getting caught, you choose the hotel.

The brunette gets off her knees. You watch her pull her top down and putting the hem back into her skirt. Slowly, your cum starts to leave wet spots on the fabric. You pick up her bra, offering it to her.

"Keep it. Maybe you are lucky and you can complete the set."

With those words still lingering in your mind, she takes your hand, leading you towards the exit.

You've never head a clear picture of Venus or Aphrodite in your mind. Now you do. It's the woman who is holding your hand, her chest covered with your cum.

The fact that she is taking you to a hotel is making you hard again.

With one last glance at the statue, you finally know how to continue your next book.

The third part "The Roman goddess" will certainly become a bestseller.

________

Thank you for the ask. I unfortunately don't have the time to write much more.

The introduction seems a little long to me. Please keep sending short requests guys, I'm trying to shorten the part where I set the scene. With limited success as you can see.

Sana in that outfit definitely deserves a proper story, which I'm unable to write at the moment. I hope you are satisfied with that. I might be able to write the follow up somewhere in the future.

Have a nice day!

#kpop #kpop smut #anon #kpop girls #ask #kpop gg #male reader #sana minatozaki #sana #twice #sana twice #sana smut #twice smut

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buckets-and-trees · 7 months

Note

Since it’s still Monday… Happy Horny Monday!🥵

Imagine Bucky telling you to get on your knees🥵

Oh… and when I tell you there are so. few. men. I have ever wanted to have in my mouth…

But he would be one.

Especially Devour Bucky…

And it’s not Monday anymore, but who can complain about a little smutty something on hump day Wednesday?

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: MINT Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: male receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, sex in a semi-public space, mob boss Bucky

Logistical Notes: Takes place after Heat but before Yeast. Written on my phone while waiting for my departing flight…

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

You had dated before the incident (and you’ll always call it that because it was the height of his audacious pursuit) but that was different to how things were with James now.

Now you were his, and he was so assuredly assertive about it. He touched you easily - a hand on your back, on your arm, reaching for your hand. When you weren’t next to each other, his eyes sought you out - not constantly, but frequently. It was devoted with a hint of possessive that was healthy, not insecure. It bespoke a confidence and contentment that you had never experienced in any previous relationship, situationship, or entanglement.

It felt good.

At tonight’s benefit for the museum his warm hand had found its way to affectionately rest on your thigh under the table, but it wasn’t long before his hand had shifted, sidled under the high slit of your long silk dress, and his fingers drifted over to the tender and traitorous skin of your inner thigh above your stockings, dangerously close to your core.

But no further.

Only the quirk of his mouth told you he knew how he was teasing you, but he was essentially well behaved the rest of the night.

Somewhat maddeningly so.

He continued to be physically affectionate, but only in the most appropriate way.

And his eyes danced with the mischief of it.

So you concentrated on the rest of the evening - the other VIPs you were grouped and mingling with, the performances by some of the city’s symphony and opera stars, and the culinary delights.

You had been nervous for your first public appearance like this with James Buchanan Barnes, but it had been surprisingly nice. One of Bucky’s associates and his fiancé were at your table, as were the governor’s nephew and niece and each of their plus ones, and one of the members of the museum’s board of directors and her partner. James had whispered in your ear that the charming elderly woman from the museum board terrified all the old men on the board because she was so charming they were constantly surprised by her devious control of the board without ever having been the chair.

After dinner, there was dancing, but your table was one of a handful of tables swept away first for private tours of the new collections.

That’s where he struck.

Holding your hand, fingers interlocked, James had been falling further and further back in the group, engrossed in many of the works.

And it might have been genuine, but when he pulled you into one of the enclosed galleries and you saw one of his security step in front of the entrance, you knew you were in for discreet but delicious ruin.

“James…” your voice drawled in a cautious question.

He mimicked your tone, murmuring your name right back.

“Won’t they be trying to secure a sizable donation from you tonight at the end of this tour?”

“I’m already a generous patron of the city arts council. If they leave us alone long enough, I’ll increase my patronage before we leave,” he said with a cocky smirk.

One you had come to love.

“Been wanting to have you all night,” he said, voice going lower, right to your core, and taking a step closer to you.

“Oh?” You pretended to be unaffected, the way he had pretended to be only innocently touching you at dinner.

“And I would bet you’re ready for me,” he spoke directly into your ear.

Your eyes fluttered closed, but you tried to keep the rest of your cool. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

He chuckled then pressed you flush against his front, and you felt his hard cock press into you. “I’m ready for you.”

And within half a second, he’d rucked up the long skirt of your dress, exposing your ass in your lacey underwear and large fishnet stockings. You gasped his name into his chest, but he only proceeded, cupping your mound, undeterred.

And you couldn’t hide the heat of your wetness or your soft whimper as his fingers worked over your already ruined panties.

“Get on your knees for me,” he said, gently pushing down on your shoulder, and a little dazed, you complied. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip then cradled your cheek - affectionate but with control in those fingers. “I want your pretty mouth.”

You unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, and pushed his boxer briefs down, exposing his thick, glorious, hard cock.

Then your gaze flickered to the side, toward the entrance to the dark gallery.

James brought his other hand up to frame your face, now holding your head in both his hands.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

You bit your lip but nodded. He smiled. Every moment had your body more abuzz - desire, the rush of being so exposed in public, this new relationship, how intoxicating he was.

“Now open up.”

You parted your lips, placed your hands on his thighs, and he eased his cock into your mouth. The tang of his precum hit your tastebuds, and the warm weight of him had you hum as you closed your lips around him.

“Mmmm, like that,” he cooed, slowly pushing his length to the back of your throat. He drew back a little, still holding your head in his hands, and pushed in again. Back and in again. Then he pressed his tip a little more insistently against your esophagus. “Relax and let me in, let me use your throat.”

You whimpered, but blinked once, still looking up into his deep blue eyes, and squeezed his thighs a little to let him know you were ready.

He didn’t rush, but he set an insistent pace, rocking in and out of your throat, groaning when he finally pushed all the way in, your nose nudging against the pubic hair at his base. You concentrated on breathing evenly through your nose, blinking through the tears that sprung from your eyes. His fingers were there to brush away those tears immediately, and the tenderness while he forcefully took your throat made you keen.

He rutted into you a few more times, and you could feel him absolutely throbbing, ready to let him spill into your mouth and down your throat, something you almost never let anyone else do before him, but then suddenly he pulled out, and hauled you up.

“Wha-“

He stopped your words with a consuming kiss, licking into your mouth, growling when he tasted himself there. He hauled your leg up around his hip, and you clung to his shoulders.

“My good girl deserves my cock in her dripping cunt, doesn’t she?”

“God, yes!”

He pushed the delicate lace of your panties aside, quickly lined up his thick, throbbing head inside of your slick heat, and drove up into you, claiming your lips immediately again once he was sheathed in you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling closer, desperate to anchor in this moment of desperate passion.

As your leg gripped around him, his hand slid down to control your hip and leverage his thrusts.

You expected him to draw away from your lips, say more filthy things, but he didn’t for once, seemingly as needy as you to race to this finish. His other hand moved between your bodies and quickly sought your clit, already knowing each inch of your body better than his own. Quick circles over the bud at his fingertips escalated the tightening in your stomach, rough, punching thrusts, and then you were clenching and cried out against his lips, turning your head to pant into his neck as your orgasm washed over you in a rush. You trembled in his arms as he pumped furiously into you, and then he groaned as he shot his own release into you.

Quick, rough, claimed.

Satiated.

He laughed softly then kissed you again, more softly, still inside you for another moment.

Then he sunk down on one knee before you and brought your left leg up to perch on his knee. He drew a handkerchief out of the inner breast pocket of his dinner jacket, and then gently cleaned up your mixed spend from your core. He pressed a hot kiss to the exposed flesh of your thigh just above your fishnet stockings and righted your panties.

“You’ve so quickly become everything to me.”

Your heart stuttered, and you pulled him up for another kiss. He smoothed the long skirt of your dress back down, smoothed his hands up and down your waist, pulled you flush against his chest to run his hands up and down the expanse of your exposed back.

“All mine,” he murmured against your lips.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few after dinner mints he had apparently snatched from the table. You giggled and shook your head, but took all three eagerly, popping the first into your mouth.

He took your other hand in his, threading your fingers together, and drew it up to his mouth. “And I’m yours,” he added before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

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

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #mob au #mob boss!bucky #bucky barnes au #Aspen asks #Aspen wrote something #devour au #devour: salt fat acid heat

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mayullla · 1 year

Text

Title: Nahida's dream and plushies

Character(s): Nahida and most of the Sumeru characters (Genshin Impact)

Summary: In her dream, she saw a lady, someone she recognized but didn't remember who till she woke up, and right beside her were plushies waiting to be taken to their look a like

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader (but doesn't appear here), sagau as in cult au/god au, no romance just mainly fluff!

Klee and the little plushies Qiqi's plushie delivery Sayu's plushie mission Nahida's dream and plushies (you are here!)

Nahida was a little bit in a daze. Her mind was elsewhere as she looked at the dolls in front of her. Small dolls made out of felt and wool. They all looked familiar to her, and she would have cooed at how cute they were, yet her mind could not help but think about that lady in her dream.

She looked like someone she knew... that aura of comfort and kindness that surround her wasn't like those old grannies who gave kids candies kind of gentle but something more eternal, more powerful than that. It would be hard to compare the power she had to the archons cause you and they were so different... so far apart.

This supposes elemental power... colorless but moldable and changing. Even archons were limited to their own element and weren't limitless, the Geo archon was strong, and he could command meteorites to fall into Teyvat and build high mountains. But he could not command the sea to flood the world. She herself even as an archon wasn't able to do much in the face of many who didn't want her back once.

"What are you looking so gloomy at." Nahida snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a cold, harsh yet familiar voice speaking to her. Looking to the side, she saw that huge hat of a certain someone she knew. "Wanderer." Nahida smiled at him, moving to face him. "I was looking at these cute dolls. Don't they remind you of some people?" Nahida giggled, knowing full well that he was familiar with some of them.

Wanderer raised an eyebrow at the many dolls that were placed on a table at the side of the room. Small plushies with simplified designs of people he knew. Rather than cute...

"They look creepy rather than cute." Wanderer crossed his arms as he narrowed his eyes.

"Do not say that. What if you hurt the person who made them." Nahida shook her head sighing. "Then they shouldn't have made such creepy things. What are they, a stalker?" Wanderer sarcastically replied.

"She is not a stalker... rather, she is someone we know... and wish to see. She made these just for us." Nahida replied. Looking back at the dolls walking towards it, she reached out for a small plushie from the bunch and handed it to the Wanderer. "Here. This is for you."

"Hmmm? I didn't know that there was another archon." Wanderer looked at the doll that looked just like him with the hair and clothes to the pout with a suspicious look. He must have noticed the white elemental aura surrounding it, but as Nahida continued to hold it out for him. Grabbing the doll, he took a closer look at it.

"She isn't an archon, someone far greater than that, actually..." Nahida replied to the Wanderer in a serious tone but didn't elaborate. Instead, she looked back at the plushies. "Wanderer, can you help me hand out these plushies. She had asked my help to give them out."

"Do it yourself. You don't really need my help with something like this. You are probably using this as an excuse for me to interact with more people." Wanderer huffed in annoyance, turning to leave. "If you don't need me, I will be heading out then."

"Hehe.. you caught me." Nahida laughed and let Wanderer head out. She, too, was busy with this after all. In her mind, she stored the memory of the Wanderer holding on to his plushie in one hand, the thoughtful looked he gave it when he thought she wasn't looking. She knew that he would not throw it away.

Storing them in a bag, she headed out of the room she started to search.

And the first person she found was Collie!

Collie was flustered when the dendro archon walked up to her as she had just come to the city with Tighnari as he had an appointment with his friends. She followed along as wanted to see the place again and buy some stuff that she could only get here.

She didn't think she would run into the dendro archon, much less suddenly be given a doll. "Is this for me?" Collie asked, taking the doll and holding it as if it would break by a slight touch. She heard from her friend Amber that she had received a doll from a mysterious lady and that it was the cutest thing ever. And it really was cute when Collie saw a small doodle of it she thought of getting one for herself.

She didn't expect she would be receiving one from the dendro archon! The both of them soon parted ways, and Collie thought of what she would tell Amber later on in her letter. Her little doll also had a small cat plush connected to it!

The next person Nahida found was Nilou, who was street performing in the middle of city hall. Her dance was so graceful and lovely Nahida didn't want to bother and instead watched till it ended, clapping when it had finished. Nilou greeted the Dendro archon with respect, happy that her archon made a visit and watched her dance.

Nahida told her that the dance was so pretty and gifted her the plush. Surprised, Nilou asked her if she was the one who made it, but Nahida shook her head, telling her that it was from a special someone.

The fans were jealous of how much Nilou treasured the doll, while others couldn't help but smile. After all, it was an honor to receive something given by the dendro archon, and they were proud of Nilous.

Next, Nahida found Cyno, who was in the middle of a TCG match. She watched him conquer the match after struggling in the first few rounds. "It is an honor that the dendro archon watched my match." Cryo raved on about his journey to win this match, and as a congratulation, Nahida gave him a little plush. "I shall treasure and protect this till my dying breath."

"Please, you don't have to go that far," Nahida replied with a worried smile. Tho it made her a little happy that he would treasure the plushie this much.

Next, she found Kaveh speaking with Dori, something about a dept, but before Nahida could get more information (not that she was trying to eavesdrop), they stopped as they had noticed her.

"My do what do I owe the Dendro archon the pleasure of visiting the Palace of Alcazarzaray. Could you be looking for something? Fabrics? Spice? Or something rare? I have it all!" Dori said, couldn't be able to contain her excitement at the idea of the dendro archon becoming her dear customer.

Kaveh was slightly more flustered but quickly composed himself and respectfully asked why she was here and if she was looking for something or someone.

"I am here to find you two." Nahida smiled and showed them two plushies that looked just like them. "They are a gift from a certain someone!" The two were surprised at the dolls, accepting them from her.

Both had different reactions.

On one hand, Kaveh had a more touched expression asking Nahida if he could know who made this lovely handmade plushie of him and his bag and that he wanted to give back, while Dori was more materialistic having come up with "a brilliant idea!" Raising her plushie with a purple small genie plush jingling at the movement to the sky, her eyes twinkling at the thought of potential mora~!

Nahida could only smile, her face hinting that the maker doesn't want to be known. Kaveh, knowing that he could not do anything here, could not help but sigh but stated that if this person were to ever need any help that he could possibly give, feel free to ask. (Dori was disappointed that she would not hire the person who made these plushies.)

The next she found was Candace and Dehya at the desert village, the two catching up after fighting some treasure hoarders trying to steal from the village. "Ah, it is the dendro archon Nahida! It has been a while!"

"Welcome to Aaru village, dendro archon."

Giving them their plush, both of them found the plushies absolutely adorable and asked the person who made them if they ever feel comfortable to come and visit them one time. Candace would gladly welcome them to the village while Dehya offered a small shopping spree as she knew all the trends and shops or if they ever needed a bodyguard one day just call her.

The last two girls, Faruzan and Layla, were found at the academy as both of them traded notes that were of interest but also some chit-chat. The two were surprised when they found out that the dendro archon was looking for them as one of the scholars frantically searched for them told them so.

"This is so cute. It even has twirly whirly my shroom buddy beside it.... I miss them." "This doll is very cute. You could see the hard work and effort placed into making each and every single stitch. Send the person who made them my thanks. I would do it myself, but it seems that they don't want to be known." "Me too! I think with this I could do better in my essay that I need to finish... yawn"

The last two people she needed to look for were Tighnari and Al Haitham and soon found them sitting at the cafe along with Kaveh and Cyno. In Al Haitham's hand was Kaveh plush while one Tighnari's was Cyno both examine it.

Cyno was going on and on about the card game he won in the presence of the dendro archon and that it was an honor to win in her presence as Tighnari told him to stop telling the same story for the third time now. "We get it. We know that you will hand down this plushie as a family heirloom!"

"There is something about these dolls that is not right...." Al Haitham narrowed his eyes at Kaveh's dolls. He definitely knew that something was up with these. "They are given by the dendro archon herself. Of course, they are unique! Gah, you are always suspicious of everything." Kaveh stated frustratedly. "Do you ever know how to relax and just appreciate the work that went into making this!"

"If you would just stop and look a little harder, maybe you would notice that something is odd about them." Al Haitham didn't look up at Kaveh. These dolls in the end weren't gifts from the dendro archon but someone who is probably of higher rank than an archon to be able to make the archon do such work.

"Al Haitham is correct about them being unique. You would never find these dolls somewhere else, even if you searched the whole Teyvat." Nahida cut in, walking towards them with a smile on her face. Everyone looked at Nahida, who stopped beside them, Al Haitham and Tighnari greeted her as they didn't see her beforehand like the other two boys had.

"These are for you!" Nahida giggled, handing Tighnari and Al Haitham their own plushies both thanking her for them. "What do you mean by unique?" Tighnari asked curiously, his tail swishing a little faster as he looked at his own doll. He saw Collie's one and wondered if he could get one, too. Lightly tugging the doll's ear long as his own, he looked at Nahida again.

"They are from someone special, someone who watches over us all." Nahida stated, her eyes closing as she remembered the lady she met in her dream, the little conversation that she and you had.

She didn't realize who you were nor why she thought that you were so familiar to her back then inside the dream she only realize who you were when she woke up and saw the plushies on the side of her and a familiar white elemental magic surrounding them.

Returning back to her room, she saw a doll that looked exactly like her surrounded by Aranara plushies. Smiling at the doll, she hugged hers and hoped that one day she would actually see you in person and not in a dream.

Note: If you find any mistakes here please tell me! Anyway, phew part 4 of the series is over! I know that Genshin has released characters outside of Sumeru that are not included here in the series yet but I plan on saving it for a later date when more characters for the past regions show up!

Another note for taglist: The tag list will be open later when Fontaine is somewhat finished and most characters are already out which would probably take a longggg time. But for now, the taglist will be closed. If anybody does not want to be tagged later tell me so that I can remove you from the list.

Taglist: @victoria1676 @muse-hub @simpaghettits @patimiet @mrmoneymoney @tsubasa10126-unwinds @akenofujihara @landofstarwind @imyme20 @strawberrgyuu @frostines-blog @barbaraphoetathoes @zyphyrr @that-emo-elf @itsyacuhjake @glue-bottle @tiffthescales @eliciana @the-real-fandom-person @pimacolada-lulu @mei-eishi @scalyalpaca @atsukawolfcat @riiriin @pale-value @dreamoffireflies06 @3noa3 @lwqfhp @mei-simp @silentterri @mishapotato @oyayablog @esthelily @tikitsune @shizunxie @jennyzyn @azelalxforfun @myhandshurts @wolfyzey18 @karma-gisa @chaoticfivesworld

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vixstarria · 3 months

Text

'Erotic misadventures'

Hello, I wrote this for an April Fools challenge, and now it is your problem.

Challenge terms: The challenge is simple - write something spicy that uses the worst possible terms for body parts, sex acts, and so on!

AO3 link

So I've always had this headcanon that Tav and Astarion perform readings of really bad erotica for the group at camp. This is a depiction of one such evening.

All origin characters.

18+, humor, banter. Is this actually smut? I don't know. I hope not.

Content warnings: ...Yes.

Approx. 1,800 words

It was, without a shadow of a doubt, the best piece of fiction they’d ever come across.

Meticulously handwritten in a tidy script, the text filled a sizeable journal. “Her Highness’s Erotic Misadventures” read the title. “Thank you for beta reading, Harpy Quinn”, it said at the bottom of the title page, whatever that meant.

Despite both of them having a professional interest in lewd literature, neither Astarion nor Tav had ever come across this piece before - they doubted it had ever been published. They doubted it could ever be published, for that matter. However, it must have gone through many hands privately - on flipping through the journal it was discovered that the end contained a multitude of little gushing reviews in other people’s writing.

The author must have been one strange individual, with even weirder friends. How embarrassing.

The gang had called it a day and were gathered around the campfire. Astarion and Tav had been taking turns reading from the manuscript, to their companions’ amusement (and, in Gale’s case, vexation).

Despite being seasoned experts in the genre, Wyll and Shadowheart were visibly perturbed (albeit also intrigued) by the piece. Karlach hung on to every word, and even Lae’zel had stopped tending to her weapons to listen to the strange tale spun by the anonymous author. Volo, whose unwarranted presence continued to be tolerated, although no one could quite pinpoint why, was silent, furiously scribbling notes in his own journal. And as for Gale, well…

“This is deplorable,” said Gale, weary disappointment and disdain in his voice. “The only reason I am still here is because none of you can be trusted with the pot.”

Astarion ignored him and continued to pace around the fire, reading aloud from the journal.

As the title suggested, the story depicted a series of obscene misfortunes which had befallen a hapless princess and her loyal knight. After several chapters of delving into the princess’s tragic and salacious backstory in (frankly bewildering) detail, the narrative had at last moved forward to a scene in which the princess’s knight came to her rescue after she had been kidnapped and taken away to a cave by a dragon. The knight faced the said dragon (who had then taken a dragonborn form for some reason) and its two harpy henchwomen.

“‘Its weak spot is its bussy’, the princess cried out from the cave,” read Astarion. “What in the hells is a ‘bussy’..?” he asked, lifting his head to seek counsel from his companions.

Everyone around the fire just shook their heads, equally perplexed.

“Hmm… Well, it seems our hero doesn’t know that word either...” Astarion continued reading.

“‘Puzzled, the paladin took a shot in the dark, cramming her manhood-’ Wait, what? I could have sworn...” Astarion shuffled through the pages. “…Oh she’s got both sets. How convenient… Anyway. …‘Cramming her manhood into the dragonborn’s meatgrinder’.” Astarion frowned again, sitting down next to Karlach.

“Is the ‘meatgrinder’ the dragonborn’s mouth, or..?” asked Shadowheart.

“I… think so? There’s not many contextual clues here, it just says that the ‘meatgrinder swirled around her pork sword, stunning her and nearly making her forsake her oath of propriety’.”

“Well keep going, we’ll figure it out,” Karlach said, impatiently.

“The two harpies swarmed the stunned paladin. A hand deftly shed the paladin’s breastplate, exposing her pearls, whilst another grabbed her by the neck, clawed fingers shredding the remnants of her clothing, as two hands groped and teased her milkbags. She felt a hand creep up the back of her thigh while another hand pulled on her hair, as another crept to her moistening oyster-” Astarion stopped, with an exasperated sigh. “How many hands do these bloody things have?! I’m losing focus.”

“And the mention of pearls…” Wyll said, thoughtfully. “It’s peculiar, you would think a pearl would be inside the… never mind”.

“Shadowheart, could you and Tav assist us with a visual, perchance,” asked Astarion. “I can’t be the only one who can’t keep track.”

“Perhaps I could also be of assis-” started Wyll.

“Perhaps you could sit right back down,” Astarion warned with a glower. “I'll step in if needed. Where was I..? Ah yes, the err… the milkbags. So there’s definitely two hands there.”

Both Tav and Shadowheart giggled as Shadowheart stood to join Tav by the fire and reached around Tav to lightly place her hands over the other woman’s breasts.

“Nice,” said Karlach.

“The harpy pinched her pearls, and pulled her into a deep, ravishing kiss,” Astarion read, looking up expectantly at Tav and Shadowheart.

“Uh… That is not in the book, soldier,” said Karlach, reading over Astarion’s shoulder.

“Spoilsport,” muttered Astarion. “I was just trying to set the mood before moving forward - the author’s pace is almost too relentless even for me. But fine.”

Astarion cleared his throat and continued.

“Then one of the harpies used her hands to pry open the paladin’s clam.” He looked up again. “Well come on, Shadowheart, pry open Tav’s clam.”

Shadowheart simply laughed and returned to her spot across the fire.

“If you’re not sure how - we could show you later tonight, if you like,” Astarion called out after her.

“I’m sure I could give you some pointers on dealing with clams, Astarion,” retorted Shadowheart.

“Is that so..?” he purred. “Interesting… What about you, Karlach, are you adept with clams?”

“You know I haven’t had any clams in a decade, fangs!” Karlach groaned. “But before that… They used to just fling themselves at me, already opened, yeah.”

“Fascinating. Lae’zel?”

“There are a number of women who have survived bedding me,” the githyanki responded, deadpan.

“I am… in equal parts concerned and aroused at the thought,” Astarion mulled over her words.

“I wish anyone could survive bedding me,” grumbled Karlach.

“There there, darling…” Astarion reached out to carefully pat her on a horn. “Now we all know Gale doesn’t know the first thing about clams…”

“I’ll have you know, in my ethereal relations with my goddess, our connection was so profound that not only have I experienced her ‘clam’, I have interconnected with it on such a sublime and intimate level, been woven so deeply into it to myself have become part of the clam.”

Gale’s outburst failed to have the effect he had desired, as the group struggled to contain themselves, wheezing and huffing for air.

“Thank you, Gale, I don’t believe I’ll be able to get that image out of my mind anytime soon,” Astarion continued, trying to maintain his composure. “Wyll..? How fare you with prying clams open?”

“Well…” The warlock began, with a smile. “I find, that the best way to go about it is to allow the clam to open of its own accord, from heat. From it getting sufficiently… steamy, if I may. I would never simply invade one with my blade.”

Astarion was about to say something but just chortled instead.

“Wyll, you rapscallion, every time I think I have you figured out-”

“What happens next with the harpies?” Came an impatient call from Lae’zel.

“Yes, give me that, you’re taking too long,” said Tav, snatching the journal back from Astarion. She continued to pace around the fire as she recited:

“The dragonborn stood before the browbeaten paladin, reveling in her anguish. Even had the harpies not had a firm grasp on the paladin and her unmentionables, she would not have known how to approach the dragonborn – the loathsome creature was covered in impenetrable scales. Its mouth sported rows upon rows of sharp teeth – the only reason it allowed the paladin’s mutton machete out unscathed must have been because it had worse yet torments in mind for it.

The creature turned its back on the paladin, to roar tauntingly at the princess somewhere in the cave.

‘Behold, as I turn your valiant saviour into naught but a pathetic cumdumpster!’

As it turned its back, the paladin glimpsed a narrow, pink orifice beneath its tail.”

Karlach and Wyll gasped in unison.

“The bussy!” Lae’zel hissed in a hushed whisper.

“The paladin drew on the last of her divine power to throw the harpies off, smiting them unconscious, and plunged her hand into the dragonborn’s puckered hole.”

“I am going to be sick,” moaned Gale.

“The dragonborn cackled and flexed their beef ring, tightening its grasp on the paladin’s hand. The paladin reeled in horror, as the dragonborn’s poop chute seemed to suck the paladin’s hand further in, like fleshy quicksand, whilst threatening to snap her wrist.”

A tear of anguish slid down Gale’s cheek.

“It cannot be! Was the bussy a trap?!” came an outcry from Lae’zel.

“No! It could not end this way. Her entire life and all her training had been preparing her for this,” Tav read. “What in the hells, really?” she muttered, before continuing. “In that moment, she knew that the only way out - was through. The paladin took a deep breath and PLUNGED her arm deeper into the dragonborn’s vile cavity,” Tav exclaimed, throwing her own fist in the the air, to the sound of Astarion’s uncontrollable giggling and everyone else’s gasps.

“The dragonborn yelped and tried to expel the paladin’s arm from their pulsating dirtbox, to no avail. The paladin was now elbow deep in the mud dungeon. The two continued to wrestle, the paladin’s arm pumping deeper and deeper into the dragonborn’s dank portal.”

“I fear I may need to tap out soon,” warned Wyll.

“Weakling!” Lae’zel and Shadowheart said in unison, before glaring at one another.

No one, including Karlach herself, could tell whether she was laughing or crying.

“At last, the dragonborn seemed to accept its fate, quivering and taking the paladin’s arm nearly shoulder-deep. The creature grunted and groaned, before stilling, only to unleash an earth-shaking roar, finally forcefully expunging the paladin’s arm in a spray of gooey, milky spunk, as it collapsed on the ground, convulsing, clearly too incapacitated to be of any further threat.”

“Supper is ready,” wept Gale.

“Shall I take over while you eat?” Astarion asked, to Gale’s immediate renewed protestation.

“That’s alright, I think we should take some mercy on Gale and pause here for the day,” said Tav. “Although let me peek ahead, perhaps it’s tame enough.” She took the journal and flipped forward a few pages. “Oh my…” came a surprised murmur from Tav. “You’ll never guess what happens to the princess and her knight… This may be a problem if we want to continue to visualise this masterpiece properly.”

“Oh? Dare I ask..?” Astarion was giddy with anticipation.

“Well… There are now… Five… Six… No, seven! Seven dwarves, who have appeared in the cave.”

“Goodness gracious,” lamented Astarion. “We will never keep track of all the body parts… Perhaps if Withers steps in to help..? Would you prefer to be the princess or the knight, darling? You can choose, I’ll take the other role.”

“I am going to use that journal for kindling tomorrow,” said Gale.

“NO!” came a collective shout from the rest of the group.

~~~~~

Sorry about the psychic damage, come check out my other work if you dare.

~~~~~

Tagging the usual plus some people who I think might also be doing / were interested in this:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @pursuitseternal @comatosebunny09 @kittenintheden @bardic-inspo @tavyliasin

#BG3AprilFoolishness #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic challenge #april fools #writing challenge #baldur's gate 3 #comedy smut #astarion #tav #karlach #gale #shadowheart #lae'zel #wyll #smut

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drchucktingle · 11 months

Text

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1

hello buckaroos chuck tingle here to talk on my book camp damascus. i am very ADVERSE to spoilers and even though i LOVE discussing art i never want to discuss a book too soon, gotta give buckaroos a chance to read. i have been trying to find a balance of WHEN and HOW to have these talks because there is a lot to discover in camp damascus, and i finally think i have found safe way to do this.

i am going to write some posts talkin about various subjects relating to camp damascus themes and symbols and ideas. i will title these posts DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS and give them all the hashtag: "deconstructing damascus". if you do not want to be tempted you can go into your tumblr settings and MUTE hashtag "deconstructing damascus" until you are ready to come back and trot in this way.

i am also going to put all spoiler content below a READ MORE line so that buckaroos will not stumble upon it. you must click below to open these words up.

(EDIT: PART 2 IS HERE)

(EDIT: PART 3 IS HERE)

(EDIT: PART 4 IS HERE)

alright buckaroos lets trot. WARNING: SPOILERS BELOW

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1: NEVERLAND

camp damascus is about SEVERAL things thematically, but i think in BROAD STROKES you can narrow this story down to two ideas. the first is about control through infantilizing victims of religious or conservative organizations, keeping them 'young and naive' forever, and the second theme is about taking a story and using the same text to pull out whatever viewpoint you want. in other words, there are MANY readings within a story and us readers see whatever story we want.

i will dive deeper into these topics in later DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS talks, but both of these concepts relate in some way to THIS discussion, which is the story of peter pan and neverland

camp damascus is about text having many interpretations, and so as a sort of META ART PIECE i wanted camp damascus to have many interpretations. i did this by creating thematic layers on top of each other in the SAME STORY, like a cake. in the case of camp damascus we have BIBLICAL LAYER, FAIRYTALE LAYER, and LITERAL LAYER.

today we are going to talk about the fairytale layer.

peter pan is the story of wendy darling, who is whisked away to a magical place known as NEVER NEVER LAND by peter pan, who is an eternally young boy. nobody ever grows up in never never land. in camp damascus we have rose darling, who is a resident of neverton, a small town in montana where all of to children are kept young and naive to their own true adult nature for as long possible. this is done in many ways, for instance all of the KINGDOM OF THE PINE kids act and talk like teenagers when they are technically adults (rose is 20). they are all still in high school due to intervention of the church. the practice of oppressing someones natural sexuality and growth into adulthood a way of keeping them young and 'innocent'. the KINGDOM KIDS are perpetually stuck between childhood and adulthood. when you are reading the book, there should be something about this age and behavior discrepancy that feels a little strange.

to capture this effect i also tried to create a book that was both categorically YA (young adult) and adult horror. there are topics and conversations and situations that should feel like you are reading a 'younger book', then moments of violence and layers of complex themes that feel like an adult book. it should straddle this line in an uncomfortable way.

now to the story itself. camp damascus is NOT a retelling of peter pan in any way. the plots are not the same at all. however it uses peter pan as a literary allusion in order to discuss the themes listed above. these references are to reinforce the idea of keeping buckaroos young and under the churches control by any means necessary.

many do not realize that the original peter pan character was quite a bit more sinister than the cartoon version. here is a quote from the original text about HOW neverland worked to keep the lost boys young:

“The boys on the island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Peter thins them out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two.”

yes CAPTAIN HOOK is the big villain, but peter pan himself is just as brutal. this is where we get PASTOR PETE BEND, the current head of camp damascus. in his own way he is HIP AND COOL AND ETERNALLY YOUTHFUL just like peter pan, but he also falls into the roll of a ruthless captain who will do whatever it takes. to pull apart his name we have pete, as in peter, and bend. what is another word for bend? hook.

kingdom of the pine members wear a red band round their left wrist, which is where the hand of their prophet as severed. you can also note that when pete bend he uses a weapon he uses his left hand, which is pretty notable for someone who is right handed. consider where a certain captains weapon is permanently affixed.

also working for kingdom of the pine and camp damascus, under the direct orders of pete bend, is DR. SMITH. dr smith is a jolly henchmen with a white beard and glasses. despite his drab office he sits in a blue and white striped chair. i should also point out that a version of the name smee is smeeth. just SAYIN.

WILLOW is another interesting one. after her time at camp damascus she gets into photography. she turns to NATURE and TRUTH and as she takes these photos her finger is steady and rhythmic like a clock. click. click. click. click. click. could these photos eventually be the downfall of pete bend?

when we see willow early on she is drinking for a coffee mug with a certain reptile on it. her last name is crogall, which translates to the name of a specific animal in scottish gaelic. rose also goes to meet willow where she lives, one town over from neverton in a little village named lebka rock. i will let the buckaroos figure out what that means.

there is actually much more than this (who is saul for instance?) but i think i have said all that buds need to know to enjoy this layer.

thank you for reading. FEEL FREE TO REBLOG but try not to put spoilers in the tags. i will talk on OTHER aspects of CAMP DAMASCUS soon and i hope this has inspired you to look at the text in a brand new way. LOVE IS REAL

#deconstructing damascus #spoilers

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okiedokrie · 2 months

Text

High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Hephestus, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

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tapwater118 · 1 month

Text

Has anyone ever heard of “Battle for Dream Island” (1990) before? Really obscure NES game, doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page (or hell, even a mention in one).

From what little I can find about it on the internet, Battle for Dream Island was an NES game released on January 1st, 1990, apparently made entirely by a pair of independent American developers. Never made all that many sales, but eventually it garnered a rather niche following on an obscure gaming forum, though it had long since dissipated. Unfortunately, seemingly nothing from the forum threads was archived, so all I have to go on are a few vague threads titles from a navigation page.

I, rather cliched like, bought this BfDI cartridge from a sleazy old guy at a flea market (along with Puzznic and Wario’s Woods for a bargain deal). I dumped the ROM and booted it up on an emulator to take some screencaps.

Upon pressing start, you are prompted to “Choose Contestant,” and have a choice between any of 20 playable characters (who are all everyday objects, for some reason). Each contestant has their own stats, and while you can feel the difference while playing, the overall impact of character choice is pretty negligible. (Also some of these guys don’t even have arms?? Weird design choice but okay.)

Two screencaps of the character select screen. I went with Pin for my first playthrough cause idk she seemed kinda cute. I’m almost sure the stats are “Strength,” “Speed,” “Jump,” and “Skill.”

(Continued under cut)

While touting itself as a game show, BfDI is essentially a glorified minigame collection. The gameplay loop is as follows: You and the 19 other contestants play a minigame (referred to as “challenges”) to earn points based on how well you do (though I’m fairly certain the computer contestants just get a random amount of points for each challenge). Most of the challenges are various platforming segments, though some others fall more into puzzle game territory.

Two of the challenges. The green “Win Tokens” can be collected for bonus points. LEFT: A horizontal platformer level. The grey wall in the middle of the screencap moves up and down. RIGHT: A challenge about climbing ladders while avoiding “acid spitballs.” The game pauses to scroll vertically a la Super Mario Bros. 2.

After each challenge, this speaker thing shows up (pretty sure he’s supposed to be like a game show host?) and tallies up everyone’s score. The contestant with the least score gets “eliminated” and removed from the game.

The results screen. Leafy did rather poor on the last challenge, so she’s out of the game.

The game continues like this until you lose (have the least amount of points) and get booted to the game over screen, or until you are the last one left, in which case you win Dream Island! (Though of course in reality you just get booted back to the title screen. No Dream Island for you.)

The victory screen, with the gates to Dream Island in sight. Feels more like the gates to hell given how Pin’s staring at me.

It’s a fairly easy game for NES standards (I won on my first try). Took me about 80 minutes on my first playthrough, though subsequent ones could take less than an hour as I knew what I was doing. The brevity and the fact it saves your high score gives BfDI a nice sense of replayability (though this is probably best done sporadically, as the challenges tend to get a bit samey after a couple of back-to-back playthroughs).

So yeah, just wanted to share this in case anybody else has heard of it. I’ll probably rip the sprites and upload them sometime later cause it doesn’t look like anybody’s done that yet.

#bfdi #bfdia #bfb #tpot #bfdi firey #bfdi pin #bfdi leafy #bfdi needle #bfdi teardrop #bfdi eraser #bfdi flower #bfdi pencil #bfdi rocky #bfdi announcer #BfDI1990 #unreality #unfiction

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atalienart · 5 months

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What are your tips on improving writing?

I don't think I'm at the level to give such tips. I myself try to read a lot of different books and learn from the authors that way. I watch youtube writing channels that talk about story structure, character development, or give advice how to improve prose and what to avoid. It's good to have someone who can look at your writing and give some feedback too. Also, I write. After some time, when I go back to my writing, I can see the mistakes better.

I can share some things that I've learnt from others and I think are good advice, for example:

use strong verbs (the person may walk but may also stroll, march or tiptoe);

there are more interesting verbs than to be;

weave description into action (The building was big. She walked towards it. ➜ She lifted her head as the stone walls grew before her. or He took the book in his hand nervously. He was tall, had brown hair and was wearing glasses. ➜ He reached for the high shelf without an effort. Book in hand, he pushed glasses up his nose to read the title - "Magic spells to improve writing." "This is it," he murmured, nervously running fingers through his brown hair.) (or some shit like that);

write sentences of different length so they don't sound monotonous;

If you want to write quick scenes. Short sentences. Actually. Make them slower. Why? Because periods. Are. Long. Pauses. xD

leave the most important words for the end of the sentence (He was thinking about the woman, while drinking his tea. ➜ He was drinking his tea, thinking about the woman.)

avoid filter words like hear, feel, see, etc. (She heard the noise that startled her. ➜ The noise startled her. or She was startled by the noise. or She jumped at the noise.)

be careful with time shifts (She noticed him behind the trees and smiled. Her beautiful monster. She runs to him and takes his hand and all of a sudden everything is all right. "Where is your hat?" she asks, but he just stares at her. He's always been a monster of few words, soft and quiet, but the lack of answer still surprised her. - is this present or past tense? confusion)

every scene should have a purpose - advance the plot, develop the character, add some conflict; ideally it will do all these things;

white room syndrom is bad - avoid;

use as many characters as you need; if one character can do the work of two, you need only one, scrap the other;

every character should want something!

give a character a desire, fear and misbelief;

Here are some of them. I hope they're useful. (They were useful for me even if I write in Polish :)) Of course some of these are optional but I think they make my writing better. I read somewhere that you should write only necessary words, so I'm trying to go by this rule. This is rather hard btw xD

#nat tries to write #writing tips #Sorry if grammar is wrong in those sentences - I write in Polish

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tollingreminiscentbells · 6 months

Text

In the defense of bottom!Voldemort|Tom

I'm in a mood, so I've decided to break down my thoughts on this topic and I'm putting it in the tags for anyone who is interested. With a suitably melodramatic title.

The rules here are simple: if you know you won't like this, don't read it. If you read it anyway and don't like it, that is the definition of a you problem. Okay? Okay.

So let's talk about why I think it is incorrect and, frankly, offensive to claim that Voldemort|Tom bottoming is inherently out of character.

In order to have this conversation, we're actually having a bigger conversation about sex. Because that's really what this is about.

Something that has popped up in a handful of comments on my own fic is surprise that Voldemort wants to suck Harry's cock. Now, I'm going to be charitable and assume that the people who say things like this don't realize what they're implying. But the reality is that they are operating from the assumption that a man sucking another man's dick is, at least to some extent, weak and degrading. A subservient act.

This is both homophobic and factually untrue. A significant percentage of people who like dick also like giving blowjobs. It's an enjoyable, pleasurable thing to do. And even if the physical act of sucking cock doesn't turn someone on, there are so many other reasons to want to do it. Getting off on being the source of your partner's pleasure, for one example.

But let's move on to the elephant in the room: anal sex. Specifically, the act of being penetrated. The interesting thing about bottoming is that, contrary to what some people seem to believe, it's the more powerful position. Penetration is only happening because the person bottoming is granting permission. Even if that person has ceded total control of the encounter, the fact remains that they made that decision in the first place and could un-make it at any time.

If that agency does not exist, the sex is not truly consensual. Full stop.

Moreover, a strong, dominant personality =/= topping. There is no innate correlation. This is where misogyny really comes to the table. Bottoming seen as a feminine act, and femininity conflated with weakness and submission. Do I think (most) Tomarrymort readers are consciously thinking this way? No. But that doesn't mean the underlying bias isn't present.

There are so many ways penetrative sex can play out. Yes, you get the "classic" version of the person topping being dominant and the person bottoming being submissive. But you can also get topping from the bottom, where the dominant partner in every way is the person being fucked. Or maybe no one is taking a dominant role. Et cetera. This is a broad overview, not an exhaustive list.

Do you see what none of these things have? An assumption that topping=stereotypical masculinity and bottoming=stereotypical femininity. Even with a couple that likes playing with that flavor of gender roles, it's a choice they're making. And before someone willfully misunderstands me, there is nothing wrong with that choice. But don't mistake it for something it's not.

So now that we've clarified that being penetrated is not weak, degrading, or even inherently submissive, let's bring this back to Tomarrymort.

First of all, have you read the books? Voldemort is campy as shit. High drama and a surprisingly great sense of humor (his jokes are fucked up, but also pretty funny). He's not this hyper-masculine figure. On the flip side, Harry is not an effeminate man. He's a jock who will fight you.

So from whence comes this zealous dedication some people have to a fixed dynamic that puts Voldemort|Tom in the masculine role and Harry in the feminine role? Yes, we've established that sex positions are neither of those things, but we all know that's the assumption simmering toxically in the background.

I can't say for sure, but my instincts tell me that it comes from a shallow read of both characters. Voldemort is a powerful man who commands a terrorist organization. Harry is the good-hearted hero, defined by his capacity to love. And this can get twisted into Voldemort|Tom taking and Harry giving in a very reductive way. Even when the relationship is meant to be consensual.

Obviously, I don't think this is universal. I've read a lot of incredible takes on sex in this fandom, with different top/bottom/switching dynamics. And this is fanfiction, which means you can play with characterization to your heart's content. What I'm talking about is people insisting that Voldemort|Tom must top and Harry must bottom and anything else is wrong.

Why are you so adamant about that? Have you ever given it a moment's thought? If you prefer it, you prefer it, that's all fine. But when it morphs into claiming that bottom!Voldemort|Tom is out of character and bad, things have crossed over into the arena of the absurd. Like what you like, but be aware of what you're really saying when you talk about sex.

Not conflating bottoming with weakness and topping with strength would be a good starting point. Understand that there are myriad reasons a person might want to bottom. It can be a source of relief, allowing someone else to take control so you don't have to. It can be an act of manipulation. It can be a form of domination. And sometimes it's just because bottoming is what feels good and they have more fun that way. Or it's just the kind of pleasure they're in the mood for on a random Tuesday night.

No one is telling you to read things you don't enjoy. And no one is saying that fixed top/bottom dynamics don't exist in the real world. But it's ridiculous to apply a fixed dynamic to such a degree that you get upset when other people write something else and consider a fic "ruined" by it. You really should put some thought into your biases. It's good for you. But even if you don't, when you claim a sexual dynamic is inherently out of character, you're actually just wrong. So stop doing that. It will be a net gain for all of us, including you.

#harrymort #tomarrymort #it's time for a sex talk #i prefer to write switching but there is no hierarchy here

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the-travelling-witch · 3 months

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summary: i'm back on my "'i have more knowledge on x topic than all your advisers together, i just couldn’t progress through the ranks for one reason or another, so you should definitely make me your concubine, so i can gossip about your minister of finance’s stupid proposal while wearing expensive shit and fine dining and then we slowly fall in love' royal au" bs again, so have some rambles because there are a lot of possible constellations here

characters: shouto :: kenma :: inui/koko :: al-haitham/kaveh x gn! reader

general masterlist

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐎

You could practically feel the daggers being glared into your skull. This entire meeting so far, the prince’s closest adviser had narrowed his eyes at you, a gesture which you only returned with a coy smile.

Really, just because it wasn’t common for a royal concubine to attend a meeting concerning safety measures at the upcoming masquerade ball, there was no need for such hostility.

Then again, maybe the adviser was so foul-tempered because of the physical position you found yourself in. But it wasn’t your fault they hadn’t prepared another seat for you or that Shouto was notoriously unbothered with social etiquette. So, if the prince ordered his concubine to sit on his lap instead, who were you to argue?

You doubted he glared at you because he was aware you had been investigating him or that you knew he and his fellow spies were planning an assassination attempt on the royal whose arm was currently lazily curled around your waist.

Surely, “concubine” was not exactly the title you had had in mind when agreeing to work as an intelligence agent on the Todoroki court but considering the former crown prince Touya had basically gone up in smoke after an attempt on his life, placing yourself right next to the prince where an enemy wouldn’t expect might not be a bad idea.

Besides, since you had taken the prince up on his offer, you had been able to enjoy many luxuries you could previously not even dream of. Delicacies practically melted on your tongue, the material of your clothes was of a quality so fine it was like dressing in air and the library held rare books you normally couldn’t get your hands on just like that.

You also had to admit, pretending to be Shouto’s lover wasn’t exactly torture either. Not only was he as handsome as they come but he was also very well-mannered towards you even in private. The clumsy side only few got to see when he let his guard down was also quite adorable.

So, to say you were quite comfortable where you were and had no intention of giving up your spot any time soon was an understatement.

“Your Highness is it really necessary to bring,” the adviser paused momentarily as he gestured at you, “this person to a meeting such as this? How can we be sure they are not working for an opposing kingdom, relaying our security measures to the enemy?”

You caught yourself before a snort escaped you. Seriously, how was nobody onto this guy before you came around?

“I have no doubt about their loyalty to me and the kingdom,” Shouto said, tone even as always, yet his hand around your waist tightened. “Besides, their safety might be compromised just like mine, so this information should be shared with them as well.”

“That’s right,” you goated, a sharp grin on your lips as you reached backwards over your shoulder to run your fingers down Shouto‘s neck as you held eye contact with the adviser. “I’ve shown my devotion to the prince in ways you never could.”

Soon you’d watch the light drain from his eyes as you ended his miserable life but for now you’d find amusement in how they widened in indignation.

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀

“Your Highness! I must ask you to stay in the medic’s quarters!” Said medic was fussing around you as you pulled the outer layer of your clothes back on. “I dressed the wound and used a minor healing spell but you need to rest! A-and your medicine—“

“I can rest in my quarters too,” you sighed, already halfway out of the door. “Someone will come pick up the treatment later.”

The medic was still stammering long after you already set out towards your room, trying not to put too much pressure on your side. You didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal but apparently the monster’s claws that had grazed your skin were laced in some sort of venom, the pain of which left you wheezing when you received another blow to the stomach.

Half stumbling, half falling into your room, you reckoned whatever spell the medic had cast hadn’t done much to rid your body of the poison, especially if you remembered how he had floundered once you first drudged into the infirmary. No wonder you had gone behind your parents’ backs to employ someone who actually understood his craft.

“Whoa what happened to you?” Kenma lifted his head from his magic-driven game board at the sound of the door opening. His sharp amber eyes studied you from head to toe, taking in the ripped clothes and collection of bruises and scratches. “You look like death chewed you up and spit you back out.”

“Thanks,” you retorted just as sarcastically, working to rid yourself of the rest of your armour, wincing when you strained the area around your ribs. “Must be the poison.”

“Poison?” Immediately, Kenma had perked up, already rounding the table, his game forgotten. “What poison? And where? And why didn’t you lead with that?”

Usually, the guy tried to make himself as small as possible, hoping to blend into the background. But whenever you dragged in yet another weird and wonderful ailment from out in the wild, your shy healer found himself in the habit of becoming a little bossy. Other royals might take offence if their concubines used that kind of tone but you had to admit you didn’t really mind.

“Well, it’s not like you gave me much of a chance to explain,” you laughed, pulling your shirt off and letting it pile up with the rest of your things, then wriggled your eyebrows at the blond. “So, where do you want me?”

“You are the worst, even when you’re dying,” Kenma rolled his eyes before a warm hand settled on your bare back and nudged you towards the bed. “For now, just lie down. And tell me exactly what the hell happened to you.”

Without any resistance, you settled down and watched as Kenma got to work. It was fascinating each time, even if you didn’t understand much of it and you were the one having to be treated. Whenever he focused on something, he adopted this no-nonsense expression, lips tightened into a line and eyebrows drawn together. You didn’t even want to start thinking about the way your skin tingled where his fingers touched you, well aware that the reason for it wasn’t the magic Kenma used.

“I told the doc someone would pick up my medicine later,” you spoke up once your healer had finished his work and both of you were just lingering within the same space.

As always when you told Kenma something he didn’t want to hear, he made one of the most expressive faces of disgust a human could muster.

“I’ll make sure to trip on the way,” he shrugged and you were aware he might actually do it too. “I didn’t spend all this time healing you just so that idiot can poison you again with whatever concoction he came up with this time.”

“Just what would I do without you?” Brushing a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, you didn’t miss how Kenma, the guy who used to flinch at people coming near him, leaned slightly into your touch.

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐈 / 𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐎

The golden light of the sinking sun illuminated the balcony as birds chirped their last songs of the day. In the midst of the flowers blooming across the railing and the castle walls, three people sat around a table filled with fruits, cheese and many other delicious foods, eating and laughing together.

“But to come back to your Minister of Finance’s proposal,” Koko, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off the kingdom’s budget sheet, spoke up. Splitting off a few of the coins from the stack in front of him to visualise the share he was thinking about, he offered his insight. “I think we should use a cut of the newly allocated funds to strengthen the army’s equipment. The knights could do with new armour, especially considering the neighbouring kingdom has been less than friendly lately.”

“What new funds are we talking about?” You inquired, not having been privy to the meeting prior this day.

“The party we sent out recently was more successful than we expected them to be,” Inui clued you in with a small smile as he studied what Koko proposed.

“Ah, the expedition that was my idea and that I equipped with the right tools. In that case,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes, before you made the stack of coins levitate over your outstretched palm, “I think we should use it to build a magic tower. It would help more with defence than equipping the knights, considering what fun things I could do with one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Koko scolded, reaching over the table to snatch the coins back. “How should we justify the King’s concubine wishing for a magic tower?”

While you shrugged, Seishu took your hand and answered much gentler than the black haired man.

“I have to agree with Koko. Not because I doubt you could do a lot of great things with such a tower but because we already had a lot of trouble explaining why the lightning only struck the enemy’s side in the last battle,” he sighed, giving you an understanding look he knew had you giving in already. “The public doesn’t know we have a magic user on our side and word of construction would spread fast. Don’t forget why you went into hiding in the first place.”

“Yeah yeah, I understand, no magic tower. But, how about,” you leant back in your chair, tossing a coin you had hidden up your sleeve before Koko could retrieve it, “one or the other magic tome? Nobody would even notice. Just say it’s for a new necklace or whatever else concubines usually get.”

“Are you suggesting we commit fraud?” Koko levelled his accusatory gaze at you.

“I don’t know, am I?” You innocently asked, batting your eyelashes at him. “It would be for the good of the people, after all.”

“How is you getting a new toy good for the people?”

“I could make the grains grow faster or whatever the people usually pray for,” you shrugged. “I’m at least granting their wishes.”

“I thought you were interested in necromancy recently,” Seishu laughed knowingly. “I’m no expert in the field but how is that helping with making the crops grow?”

“I’m sure a walking dead body or two would scare off the crows,” you said as seriously as you could. “It might also scare off thieves, now that I think about it.”

Koko just looked at you, horrified, while Seishu laughed at your nonchalance. When the former regained his senses, he reprimanded you again.

“We are not using tax money, so you can experiment with the undead and unleash them on the public!”

“Eh, it was worth a try,” you relented before popping another grape in your mouth.

𝐀𝐋-𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 / 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

You were well aware of the whispers that filled the halls of the castle when you weren’t present.

Kaveh was probably a more conventional concubine to take, considering his innate kindness and striking beauty. Clearly, when he waltzed into the room beside you, it was like the sun was rising before everyone’s eyes. Yeah, he was probably an expected choice.

Al-Haitham, on the other hand…

It wasn’t exactly his physique which raised people’s questions. Moreso it was his gruff temper and apparent boredom with most topics, burying his nose in a book and brushing people off with less than a single word at times, that made your staff shake their heads at your appointment.

Not that it mattered much what other people thought.

What did matter, however, was that your country’s infrastructure had improved significantly since you made your peculiar choice of companions. After most critical meetings concerning upcoming construction, your subordinates believed your return to your chambers meant you just had to relieve some pent-up stress. Yet, those “steamy” nights were spent hunched over maps and graphs of your nation, pointing out the flaws in your advisers’ proposals and redoing blueprints of planned buildings.

Perhaps nobody else in the castle was aware of it, but Al- Haitham and Kaveh were a genius strategist and brilliant architect respectively, responsible for the projects the public praised you most for. And that had been the nature of your relationship in the beginning. They patched out your advisers’ proposals and you made sure they were compensated accordingly, unconventional as the methods may be.

Though, you supposed, after working together for a while, the titles you had given them may not be so wrong anymore. Long nights spent agonising over the ideal location for a new project had turned into quiet evenings lounging around your quarters, enjoying fine wine and lingering touches. Having the two around had become a great sense of comfort to you and running into them between meetings and stacks of paperworks waiting for you made a spark of fondness flutter in your chest.

However, running into both of them at the same time also meant the unlikely pair were probably bickering. This time, you could actually hear them before you rounded the corner.

“I’m telling you, if we use this type of wood-”

“It would rot under the environmental influences faster than you could complete construction.”

“Why, you…!”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you exhaled ready to calm down the situation somehow. Then, you came face to face with them and had an entirely new idea on how to mediate. Haitham had his arms crossed as he regarded the blond with an unimpressed expression, the pose accentuating the way his biceps and triceps flexed. With Kaveh turned away from you, you had a clear view of his back, as always exposed by the flowy robes he wore.

Sure, they might not be the most usual concubines you could’ve chosen, but that didn’t matter.

“Strategy meeting in my quarters, now. Royal orders.”

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i think @ryuryuryuyurboat was interested in the idea? have some incoherent rambles then jsjsh

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