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lovebugism · 1 year

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Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

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You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended.

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day.

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.)

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of.

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes.

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade.

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour.

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high.

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part.

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that.

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater.

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start.

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer.

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right?

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his.

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night.

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth.

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust.

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

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wynnyfryd · 5 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 34

part 1 | part 33 | ao3

Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.

He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he’s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.

Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.

The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—

“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.

Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”

The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”

Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.

“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”

Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.

Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”

She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.

“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”

“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”

“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.

Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.

In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.

Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.

Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Robin.”

“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”

The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.

Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.

Nancy Wheeler’s here.

—

part 35

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #my writing #my fic #jk about no part today i got bored at work

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Text

childhood sweethearts (11) II a.russo x reader

playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

thought I’d be nice for once and give y’all something short and sweet

childhood sweethearts (11) II a.russo x reader

"thank you." you smiled appreciatively, taking your coffee and bag of food, making your way out of the cafe. you took a seat at a small table outside in the sun, dropping your sunglasses down onto your nose and basking in the warm glow of the early morning sun.

normally you'd take the opportunity of a saturday morning to sleep in, especially given the fact you'd hardly slept a wink last night. however this morning your body had been awake and coiled with anxiety far earlier than you intended.

so here you were hoping a coffee and a sweet treat might help to ease the grey cloud of nervous energy which hung over your body, and had done ever since your front door had slammed closed last night and the reality of your actions had sank in.

as much as you wanted to be angry at alessia for leaving you couldn't find it within yourself, knowing just as well that had the situation been reversed and you'd been at her home you'd have done the exact same thing.

the more you were left with your own thoughts to think it over, the more you began to realise you actually weren't angry with her in the slightest. if anything, you found yourself quite missing the feeling of kissing her and the way your head span.

you could still feel her hands as they roamed your body, your lips tingling at the thought of hers pressed against them soft and inviting.

the haunting memory of how it felt to have your skin touching hers and each inch of it feeling alight as if on fire, goosebumps peaking all over your body as your hair stood on end like bolts of electricity had ripped through you.

you missed her, you missed that feeling, and you wanted nothing more than to relive it over and over again. and that, that was much more terrifying a feeling than anything else at all.

finishing your coffee you pushed it aside, swallowing your mouthful of food and tapping on your phone, unlocking it and staring at the thread of messages, a million and one thoughts flitting through your head.

over and over again you typed a message to her, and then immediately deleted it with a shake of your head.

this routine continued until you'd finished your pastry, giving up with a sigh and slipping your phone into your pocket, standing up from the table and disposing of your rubbish, starting to slowly make your way back home.

you stopped by the market on the way deciding that you needed to keep yourself busy today in anyway you could and so without any real errands that needed to be done, and a small mountain of school work you knew you'd need to get to at some point you decided that a morning of baking might help to cease the unease which plagued your mind.

thanking the shopkeeper with a smile you slung the bag of groceries over your shoulder and slipped your sunglasses back down onto your nose, continuing your walk home and soaking in the warmth of a promisingly lovely weekend.

you hummed along to the tune which beat through you, one airpod tucked into your right ear as you rounded the final corner and headed home.

you found your eyes focused more on your feet than what lay ahead, a bad habit as you turned and suddenly looked up knowing you were now home, almost falling over at a sight you should have noticed a lot sooner.

"jesus christ!" you swore in shock, clutching at your chest in surprise as you almost tripped over alessia who was sat waiting on your front steps, pulling your airpod out and exhaling shakily.

"sorry! i thought you'd see me." alessia blushed bright red, scurrying to her feet and darting out of your way. "no sorry i was completely in my own world, that's not on you." you rambled out quickly, your own cheeks warm with embarrassment as you noticed a bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in the strikers hand.

"thought i'd wait around and hand deliver these in person this time." alessia forced an awkward smile at the memory of the last time she'd tried to apologise with flowers and been caught out trying to make a break for it before you'd seen her.

"do you want to...come in?" you offered, unsure really of how to progress as your head began to click into an overdrive of flurried nerves and uncertainty. "yeah okay." alessia nodded, seemingly just as flustered as you stepped around her and made a beeline up to your front door.

you dropped the keys and swore quietly to yourself, bending down to grab them and jamming them in the lock, twisting as the door unlocked with a sudden pop and you stumbled inside.

"seems we've swapped today." alessia joked, grabbing the back of your top to steady you as you forced a nervous laugh, unsure why your body was betraying you in such a way as she closed the door for you.

"do you want anything? tea? coffee? water?" you offered, dropping your bag carefully onto the counter and raising an eyebrow, trying desperately to calm yourself and even out your breathing. "i'm fine, thank you." alessia declined politely.

"for you." she countered quickly, again holding out the flowers as your face softened, now noticing of course she'd gotten your favourites. "they're beautiful less, thank you." you smiled, grabbing a vase from your cupboard.

busying yourself arranging them in the vase you cleared your throat, a thick silence occupying the room as clearly neither of you knew where to start.

"they aren't for anything either, they're well...they're just because." alessia broke first, cheeks flushed rosy pink as you spared her a glance over your shoulder, softening at the shy smile on her face at the confession.

"thank you." you repeated, your own neck warming up as again silence fell.

"about last night-" "we should talk about-"

you both stopped as the other started, sharing an awkward laugh at your shared intentions. "do you want to sit outside? shame to waste the sun." you offered gesturing to the small deck which lead out onto your backyard, alessia agreeing with a nod.

"i'm sorry i left." alessia started not long after the two of you had settled on the deck, a generous enough gap left between the two of you as you fiddled with the rings on your fingers. "you don't need to be, i'm not upset with you." you clarified, shooting her a small smile of reassurance before looking away again.

"it was, unexpected." you continued, referring more so to the kiss you both shared rather than her leaving, hoping she would pick up on it without you needing to clarify much more.

"yeah." alessia breathed out, picking up on what you were insinuating, exhaling shakily. an awkward silence fell after that as you both ticked over in your own heads what to say next, but without knowing what the other was feeling you were both too hesitant to lead the conversation.

"i wish i could read your mind sometimes." alessia admitted, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced a little bit, body coiled with a nervous apprehension.

"one minute you're kissing me and then saying you just want to be friends, and i understood why and i tried so hard to respect that because i know you gave me a second chance i didn't deserve and i wanted you in my life selfishly in anyway i could." alessia continued as you looked away, ears burning at the truthful words which fell from her lips.

"getting us back on track well seems to be going well but then we're kissing again and i have no idea what you're thinking about it all." her voice became quieter at that, conversation left open clearly hopeful that you'd pick up where she left off.

"i wish you could read my mind too because even i don't know how to decipher it sometimes." a small smile curled into your features before you sighed heavily and alessia braced herself for the rejection she expected to be thrown her way, having tried her best all morning to prepare for what you'd have to say.

"there's a part of my brain that's terrified from what happened and what it means, and all those feelings of rejection and pain and hurt come flying back. when you were so ready to just leave me behind, i felt like i meant nothing to you and i think the dismissal of everything we went through together." you started, a frown creasing into your eyebrows as alessia's stomach lurched.

"but then i also don't think its a fair second chance if i dwell on that. i know you're not that same teenager anymore alessia and it would be wrong for me to hold that against you or over your head for the rest of your life." your voice softened and you chanced a glance toward her, seeing a frown not too dissimilar to yours etched into her features as she looked at the ground.

"i don't regret the kiss." you stated boldly, your voice seemingly a whole lot more confident than you really felt as the blondes head snapped up in surprise. her eyes catching with yours and suddenly your stomach clenched and all that confidence melted away, tips of your ears burning.

"neither do i."

"can you tell me how you're feeling please?" alessia continued, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. but she was taken off guard as you suddenly let out a groan, laying down on your back and covering your face with your arms.

"that bad huh?" the striker winced, that fear of rejection returning as she looked away. "no its not that at all its just..." you trailed off, words muffled against your arms, unsure how to even put it in words.

"just what?" "i feel like a hypocrite." "and why would you feel that way?"

"well i'm the one who kissed you the first time, and then i freaked out and made a firm point that it wouldn't happen again. that we couldn't be anything more than friends again because of how scared i was to go back to feeling how i had, and i don't ever want to be that hurt again." you started quietly, hands dropping to your sides as you stared up at the sky, feeling alessia's watchful gaze on you.

"but you only kissed me because i ambushed you with that big speech and i turned up to your house an absolute mess and you had every right to set those boundaries between us. it doesn't make you a hypocrite." alessia warned softly, reaching out to touch you but thinking better of it as her hand settled back in her lap.

"and last night...you can't take the full responsibility for that. it just, happened." her voice dropped an octave lower, wrenching her eyes away from you. "yeah." you agreed with a small sigh, still trying to unpack everything.

"okay i'm going to start speaking. but if you want me to stop, please stop me." alessia decided with a heavy exhale as you sat up again and nodded, waiting for her to continue. "okay this is sort of embarrassing but can we do the thing again, like when we were younger." she pleaded, cheeks flushed red with shame.

"you mean when we turn and-" "yeah." "okay."

hiding the small smile which wanted to curl into your features at her request you shuffled around so your backs faced one another, jolting ever so slightly as she pushed back a little, her body pressing lightly into yours.

you waited for her to speak, not wanting to rush her as clearly by your current positions this wasn't something she was finding easy to say, and you tried your best to swallow the nerves that caused to bubble up inside you.

"like i said, you had every right to set those boundaries with us given what happened and the fact we were starting over." alessia started, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts. "but i don't think either of us can deny that clearly we aren't doing very well staying within them." she continued, your eyebrows furrowing into a slight frown.

"you can deny it if you want to but that kiss last night, it meant something, and i felt something. something that i tried to lock away when you said you wanted to be just friends because like i said, i'd rather have you in my life one way than not at all." alessia paused, again thinking out her next words as your heart started to beat a little faster.

"and i think you feel something too and thats probably terrifying given how things ended last time but i promise you i wouldn't ever dream of hurting you like that again. it scares me too just how much i care about you after so many years, how when i look at you everything that i thought was gone all just comes rushing back again and it makes my head spin. which is why i ran after the kiss last night, because i'd be lying if i said it didn't hurt to have to pretend i don't feel this way and that i don't want us to be something more." alessia continued confessing, biting her lip nervously.

"when i'm around you things make sense, we make sense. knowing how much i broke you the last time i had a chance to properly love you, it's the one thing in my life that I actually regret. seeing the pain in your eyes as you left, your inability to even look at me as you did. the not speaking to you or seeing you for so long, coming home and seeing you'd given back all my stuff, all the stuff i got for you, everything that symbolized us then symbolized that we were over for good, and of course i take responsibility for it but it hurt."

"you're the person i want to tell everything to, and the first one who comes to mind. when i got my first senior national team call up I just wanted to call you, text you, talk to you about it. but i couldn't, so i didn't. but now, now that feelings back and anytime something even tiny happens i find my mind wanders to what you'd think about it, what you'd say-" alessia paused again to take a breath as your heart hammered even harder in your chest.

"is this too much? god i feel like this is too much." the blonde stressed, doubt creeping in as you shook your head, forgetting momentarily that she couldn't see you. "no, keep going." you managed out once your senses kicked back in.

"okay, here we go.

"i like your eyes, i could look into them for hours and never get bored, they're comforting, they're beautiful and they're safe, just like you are. i like the little sun and moon studs in the corner of your ear, i like how the sound of your laughter can fill a whole room like a wind chime and how you stick your tongue out of that little gap in your teeth when you smile. i like the stupid little concentrating face you make when you think really hard about something, i like how you fall asleep during movie's, how you care more about other people than you do for yourself, you are a good person. a person better than i'll ever deserve another chance with, but you have no idea how badly i want to kiss you over and over again and for it to mean something." alessia's voice was barely a whisper as she finished, body riddled with anxiety as more time passed and you stayed dead silent.

"please say something."

"it is terrifying. when we kissed last night was different than that first time, all these emotions and feelings and memories came rushing back and suddenly i felt like that shy nervous lovesick teenager all over again. i was seventeen again laying in bed with you, both of us giggling like idiots and worrying about someone walking in on us." you started, trying desperately to make sense of how you were feeling despite how overwhelming it all was.

"i thought the kinds of feelings that came up when we kissed were long gone but its scary just how fast they all came racing back up to the surface. i think i really like you too lessi, no i know i do. but i think we still need to take things slowly, i don't want this to be something that crashes and burns out." you admitted, your stomach knotting over and over at the realization, your heartbeat now pounding in your ears.

there were no more words exchanged between you, and alessia jolted a little as she felt your hands inch backwards a little, seeking out her own. her every nerve tingled with a warm sense of calm as they found one another, your fingers intertwining with a gentle but now hopeful squeeze.

"okay, i can do slow. we can do slow."

with that said the two of you turned, again sitting side by side but much closer than before. "i know we just had like a big conversation but i really need to go or i'll be late for training and i don't particularly fancy running laps." alessia realised, giving you a guilty look.

"mmm i don't know, i'd kind of like to see you have to run some laps." you teased, a smile on your face as you tried to ignore the insane wave of emotions washing down on you, selfishly a little pleased she needed to leave which allowed you some time to sit and process them.

"could use them, might help you realise how long your legs are so you stop tripping over them." you continued, the blonde shoving you lightly before the two of you stood and headed back inside.

"so..." alessia trailed off, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet by the door. "so..." you mocked, crossing your arms as you hovered by your front door. "when can i see you again?" alessia asked, trying her best not to sound too eager, well aware you'd just had the conversation about testing the waters again.

"depends." you shrugged. "on?" alessia questioned, a little confused by your response. "you should get going, there's laps waiting for you." you reminded, opening your door and gesturing for her to go, the blonde stepping onto your front porch.

"depends on what?" the girl huffed impatiently, crossing her arms and staring you down. "whenever you ask me on a date. bye lessi!" you smiled, leaning up to softly kiss her cheek, closing the door quickly before she had a chance to respond.

you smiled at the good morning message on your phone, simple but sweet enough to have made your day just a little brighter as you texted alessia back.

she was quick to respond, making fun of you for the fact it wasn't technically morning anymore as you rolled your eyes, still still present on your lips as you sent her your own reply, wishing her good luck for the game today.

biting down on your lip your eyes scanned the contents of your fridge, willing some sort of inspiration to strike about what you could possibly cook yourself.

grabbing out some eggs you settled for those and a couple pieces of toast, your motivation low as you glanced over to the untouched pile of marking on your table.

you'd just finished cooking and hadn't even been able to sit down to eat before your phone rang. placing down your forkful of food you sighed and clicked answer.

"you better have a good reason for calling me on a sunday." you warned your brother. "wow its just so lovely to hear from you too." his voice dripped with sarcasm, and you winced at the loud music blaring behind him.

"what can i do for you dear harold?" you questioned, knowing him well enough that there was always an ulterior motive to his calls. "what are you doing today?" he asked, seemingly innocent as your eyes narrowed.

"why?" "always so suspicious! do you really not trust me?" "i could give you one hundred reasons why i don't trust you harry, need i remind of the santa incident? the how babies are made story? the sleeping bag accident?" "all just harmless childhood fun! lighten up. now are you busy today?" "not particularly, just have a small mountain of school work to mark through."

"perfect! we'll pick you up in an hour." harry cheered happily as your frown deepened. "sorry?" you questioned unsure if you'd heard him correctly. "alessia's game is at three and luca's sick so gio and i have a spare ticket, we'll be at yours in an hour. be ready!" and with that he'd hung up before you could even say another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

twelve

#alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #alessia russo #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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murdrdocs · 1 year

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fully charged | f. odair

description. a grueling week spent in the arena where you thought about two things, survival and finnick odair, has come to an end, leaving you to make your way back to finnick's arms to finish what you both started.

aka part 2 to saber tooth

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, reader has hair to wash, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (don't do this irl), fingering, super soft finnick, brief mention of trauma from the games, finnick loves consent ! (so do i), switches pov for a line but don't focus on that okay focus on the sex, not proofread but its 3 am

a/n: i stayed up super late to finish this and i didn't do my homework so don't ever say i never do anything for yall (i wasn't gonna do my work anyway and i was gonna stay up but shh). title from disco tits by tove lo

word count: 5.0k+

Blood on your hands, a headache that makes your ears ring and your vision spin, a simultaneous feeling of indescribable hunger and tear-inducing nausea, but the only thing on your mind is Finnick.

The Capitol airlift coming to the area was quick, and you’d never been happier to leave somewhere. You don’t look down at the open meadow that you’d spent the last days in. You look up into the jet, both joyed and disappointed to see the nurses and medics who awaited you.

Hours of injections and force feedings and encouragement to sleep later, and you were finally closer to Finnick than you had been in the last week.

The little notes he sent through sponsored care packages gave you the strength to make it out of there, and now that you are out, just the thought of seeing him is what keeps you on your feet.

“And everyone is so thrilled to have you back. There is a feast planned later tonight, and another for when you get home to Four, and of course a housewarming party to get you settled into the Village,” Mitch, your escort, rambles on as he leads you through the train cars, all the way to your personal area. Through each car that you walk through, your eyes scan the area for the golden blonde boy that you’d been happiest to see. And when you come up empty again and again, your heart feels as if it shrinks.

“But first, you need a shower. No offense,” Mitch smiles, his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to face the bathroom.

“None taken,” you mumble. Truth be told, you had more things on your mind to worry about other than how you smelt. The sound of Mitch’s dress shoes clacking against the floor announces his intended departure, but you turn around to stop him before he can leave.

“Yes, dearie?”

“Do you know where Finnick is?” The train hadn’t started moving yet, you were still at the Capitol’s station, so if Finnick were not aboard yet there was still time for him to join.

“Um, no.” Mitch looks disappointed by his own answer. “He said he had business to take care of and he might be traveling home with us. But I do not know for sure.”

Mitch’s answer leaves you with an intense feeling of loneliness, but you push it down as you make your way to the bathroom.

The shower is hotter than it needs to be, but the sting on your skin is welcomed. You scrub along your body with the exfoliating cloth until it’s visibly irritated, and even then, you continue a few more times. Images of the arena attempt to surface, a knot in your throat with each memory and self-deprecating thought that accompanies it, but you push it down with another pump of shampoo and you wash it away with the suds.

You’re on your third round of washing your hair whenever the whirring sound of the door to the bathroom opening meets your ears.

You stop rinsing, your eyes opening to look out around you. An unusual thick cloud of steam clouds the pristine area, you squint as you attempt to see who, or even what, has entered.

You come up short. Not knowing who was there makes you anxious and you regress into the thought process that you’ve become well acquainted with.

Your eyes scan the spacious shower, looking for something sharp. There’s nothing to defend yourself with, which means you’ll have to rely on your hands. Quickly, you rinse them in the running water, getting rid of the suds, and then you reach out to pull the shower door open.

“Hello?” you ask, your voice stronger than it would have been if you were in this predicament 7 days ago.

It’s silent for a few seconds, then a breath is heard, followed by a smooth timbre.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Finnick.

He stands in the corner of the bathroom, just out of sight from where the shower had you angled. His back is turned, leaving you to see the linen of his shirt and the dark-honey blonde of the bottom of his hair as his head is bowed. You want nothing more than to see his face.

Your foot reaches out to meet the plush rug, but you stop when the cool outside air enters the shower and you’re reminded that you’re naked, wet, and your hair is nowhere near presentable. But in the grand scheme of things, none of that matters.

So you step out of the shower, your feet sinking into the plush rug and your heart banging against your chest, and a smile reaches your face when you say, “Finnick.”

His head turns first, then his body, and you’re met with the sea-green eyes that you’ve thought about every night since that night. His eyes stay on your face, even though you’re completely nude.

You barely feel any shame or insecurity.

“Hey,” he says again, his pretty pink lips pulling into his own smile.

“Hi.”

There’s a few moments of serene silence, both of you just taking in the presence of the other, and then Finnick makes the move to cross the room.

His hands lift and his palms find the wet skin of your cheeks. He smiles. He blinks. Then he moves in.

When Finnick kisses you, it’s like nothing else in the world even exists. The entire Universe in that moment is just you and Finnick, two people who have always existed together. Nothing else.

His lips gently pull from yours, but he doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours.

“It’s good to see you again,” he tells you.

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him.

He smiles. “I’ve missed you too.”

Finnick lets you finish cleaning up. He was going to leave the bathroom, but when you asked him to stay, your eyes welled up with tears and your voice cracked and he wanted to stay anyway, so he planted himself right outside of the shower then.

It takes a while for you to get ready, you spent most of the time scrubbing dirt out from under your fingernails and trying to scrub out the stench that permeated inside of your nose, but dinner was delayed for you, and no one complained. It’s when you were sitting at the table, eating food that was somehow still warm, with Finnicks hand on your knee and proud and sympathetic looks from your stylist and escort, that you realize that things are going to revolve around you for a while.

A nightmare plagued sleep on the train, a welcome party at the station in Four, a housewarming party in a renovated mansion in the Victors Village, another dress from your stylist, and a large dinner with friends you haven’t considered friends in years, with your family and Finnick in attendance.

And now you’re alone again.

Not exactly alone. Finnick’s sitting outside of your new bathroom, waiting for you, which is as alone as you’re going to get for a while.

Your makeup is gone, you’re out of the dress and into a pair of comfortable pajamas, and there’s a nervous anticipation in your chest. Not the kind of nervous anticipation that you’d felt in the area, but the kind that you felt last week when Finnick came to visit.

The kind where you hoped that something sentimental was going to happen soon, and as you pull the door open and come face to face with Finnick who sits at the edge of your bed, you knew that something sentimental was going to happen.

“Hey,” he scoots over to make room for you.

You take the space beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hi.” His shoulder works as a comfortable pillow, which you’d dreamed of for many nights when you only had grass as an actual pillow. . “Are you planning to stay here tonight?” You lift your eyes to look at him, a fluttery feeling spreading all over your body when you see that he was already looking at you.

He blinks, his tongue moistens his lips. “If you’d like me to.”

You hum. “I would.”

“What would I do?”

A shrug from you. “Help me settle in.”

“Oh so you’re using me staying as an excuse to have me kill bugs, chase out mice, dust the corners.”

You laugh. It feels good to laugh.

“Maybe.” Your shared laughter dies down and a still silence places itself over the room. You stare ahead, take a deep breath, and say, “And to keep me warm.”

Finnicks hand snakes around your waist, cupping the outside to pull you flush into his side. His lips are against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss into your hair. You can feel them move when he assures you. “That’s what I’m best at.”

There’s a bit of silence that you use to turn yourself to fully face Finnick. His hand gravitates to your lower back with the movement.

He stares at you expectantly, and you smile gently. “Thank you,” you tell him.

His eyebrows furrow. “For?”

A small shrug from you. “Keeping me alive … in there. And for being my best friend and so much more that I can’t think of right now.”

Both of Finnick's hands cup your cheeks and his forehead knocks into yours, then his nose, then his lips.

He kisses you softly, pressing a single kiss into your parted lips, the two pairs molding and sticking together as if they were always meant for each other. You melt into the second kiss, thankful to get to feel this again. A thought arises within you, one that details you and Finnick getting to do this for the rest of your lives, no longer plagued with the thought of being reaped. If that’s something he also wants.

The kiss is nice, but it’s also not quite what you want.

You communicate that by tilting your head, letting your hands meet the back of Finnick’s head, and scooting yourself closer.

Finnick mimics your new found ferocity, but it seems like he’s still not getting it. You push your chest into his, you slide your hands down his torso, letting them rest on his abdomen, and then he pulls away and furrows his eyebrows.

Now he’s getting it.

“Are you sure? Are you ready?”

You can feel the touch of his hand on your lower back getting lighter as if he’s anticipating your denial. But you nod, no hesitance behind the movement, and since you know he’s going to want to hear it verbally, you part your slick lips and say, “I’m sure. And I’m ready.”

Finnick has you on your back in the center of your bed quickly. You’re still fully clothed, but obviously not for long with the way his large hand is roaming under your shirt. The other rests beside your head, pressed into the pillow and keeping him afloat above you.

You can feel the ghost of his knee between your parted legs and he’s too far away. You need him closer. You need his chest against yours instead of a few inches away, you need his knee pressed against your center, you need his entire being to become fused with yours.

There’s no way for you to communicate that when he’s kissing you so hard that you consider the possibility that your lips would bruise. Not that you’re complaining one bit.

Finnick pulls away from your lips to press kisses into your jaw and neck, where he switches from simple kisses to sucking actual bruises into your skin. The feeling of his lips sucking the skin and his teeth nipping stings, not in the way an ant bite does, but in the way that has your back arching and you feel the scratch of the linen of Finnick’s shirt against the cotton of yours.

You let out a breath, not meaning for it to sound as much of a moan as it does, but Finnick’s lips curl up against your skin. He presses a final, chaste kiss into the bruise that you know to be forming, and he leans back to give you a full look.

“Can you take this off for me?” His hands tug at your shirt once.

You nod, sitting up to fill the space that Finnick makes by leaning back, and you swiftly pull the shirt over your head. For the sake of comfort, you’d opted out on a bra tonight, and the decision is clearly thanked by Finnick.

He’s staring, marveling, at your bare chest, taking in the sight. You know the way he’s looking at you is a good sign, but you can’t help but feel a little insecure, something in your mind telling you to cover up. Your hands twitch at your sides to make the move to your chest, but then Finnick’s speaking.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says it like he means it. There’s something in you, the same thing that tried to convince you to cover up, that tells you that he doesn’t mean it. He’s just saying it in the heat of the moment.

But your better judgment comes into play then and it notices that Finnick’s tell still isn’t there. He’s still telling the truth.

You smile, just a little bashful, and reach to tug at the end of Finnick’s shirt.

“Even the playing field, Odair.” He does as you say, his hands finding the neck hole of his shirt and pulling it over his head, tossing it off the side of your bed.

Then his lips are back on your skin, kissing at your collarbone and steadily moving down your chest. He’s just pressing little kisses along your skin, not staying in one place too long, but the anticipation swims low in your stomach and makes you push your chest up into the air, waiting for Finnick to hopefully reach the destination you want him to go to.

When he does, when his lips wrap around your nipple, you sigh blissfully.

He gives the bud the same treatment that he delivered onto your neck, sucking and nipping, just a tad more gentle. All the while, his sea-green eyes stare up at you, gauging your reaction, seeing if he’s doing the right or the wrong thing.

Your face is one of nothing but pleasure, mouth parted, eyes closed, eyebrows pinched together with enough tension to tell him that he’s doing right, not wrong.

He switches to the other bud, and his hand trails down to the elastic waistband of your pants. Your hips wiggle, impatience finding you quickly, and then his hand slips past the elastic and his middle finger nudges between your clothed folds.

You shiver, a quiet mewl escaping past your lips. Your sounds only increase in volume when Finnick adds his ring finger and works then up and down your slit, circling them at your clit when they reach that point, and then working their way back down and teasing your hole.

When Finnick’s warm mouth detaches from your hardened bud, the cool air hits it and sends goosebumps onto the finest layer of your skin like a wave. They multiply when he speaks.

“You’re so wet, darling,” His fingers trail back up to circle your clit languidly, not fast enough to give you any real satisfaction, but enough to let you know that they’re there. “‘S all for me?” He’s teasing, pulling your leg, because who else would it be for?

The corner of his lips pull up into a smirk, confirming your suspicions, and you mean to say something equally as teasing back, something that would make his smile drop.

But your mouth works faster than your brain.

“Of course, Finn. Always all for you.”

He swears under his breath, his fingers stopping right on the hidden nub. He blinks, inhales, then fixes his gaze on your expectant one.

“You really mean that?” His hand flexes beside your head and you turn your head, your eyes fixed on him, and press a kiss into his forearm.

“I do.”

Finnick has your pants and panties off and thrown to the opposite side of your bed so quickly that you barely have time to process it. You only start to process how bare you are whenever his thick fingers come back to your center and this time, you feel them.

You feel the rough skin of his finger pads, the way they glide through your slick, toy with your clit, then sink down to begin to probe at your entrance.

You let him, your legs falling open even more when his middle finger sinks in to the first knuckle. He glances at you before he continues, and you’re in a state of bliss already, so he continues until the deft digit is sheathed completely inside your walls.

Finnick only fucks you with the single finger for a few moments, then you’re reaching down and wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing your hips into his hand, silently telling him that you want more.

So he adds another.

He curls them, reaches them deep inside of you, searches for the spot that he’ll memorize for minutes from now when you get the real deal.

His watchful eyes search your reactions, too. He watches the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips and the way your lips part and how your eyebrows pinch together more and more until there. He finds it and your back arches off the bed and your hiss turns into a pretty cracked moan.

“Right there?” he asks for confirmation.

“Right there.”

You feel lips kiss your inner thigh and then Finnick’s focusing on that spot a few more times, then he’s abandoning it. You hold in your disappointed sigh, but the feeling of Finnick separating his fingers, scissoring you open, is one that’s greatly welcomed as a replacement.

You gasp, moan, your back arches, your nails dig into the sheets. Finnick’s other hand goes to your clit, rubbing little circles. “Holy shit, Finn.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Better than my own.”

An image of you in a similar position, but with your own hands between your legs and not Finnick’s, flashes in his mind and is that a sight to see.

“Are you close, sweetheart?”

You nod, expecting Finnick to work you harder, faster, to guide you to the edge. He does the exact opposite.

He pulls his fingers away from your cunt and your eyes open, staring down at him with bewilderment written all over your face.

“You still want me to fuck you?” His eyebrows raise.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay then.”

You watch him stand, slip his pants and boxers off, and you shamelessly stare at his dick, propped up on your elbows for an unobstructed view.

The way it sits so prettily, erected, reaching right at his abdomen. Flushed the same pink as his lips at the head, leaking a picturesque drop of precum. You could just sit and marvel at Finnick’s cock for a while longer than you’re given. But he bends down to search the pockets of the pants he came in, and swears when he doesn’t find what he needs.

“What? What is it?” You think you know what it is but you’re really hoping you don’t.

Finnick stands straight again and looks at you, obviously dejected. “No condoms.”

Fuck.

You’re silent, attempting to think of a solution.

“I could just go to mine, it's right next door, you know. I’ll be quick.”

He could. But you truthfully don’t care at this moment.

You’re sure there has to be some sort of morning after preventative that you could get your hands on now that you're Victor, and Finnick looks so appetizing just standing there, there’s no way you would be able to survive the few minutes that you would have to sit there without him.

“I don’t care if you don’t.” Your admission has his eyes widening just a bit, then his eyebrows furrowing and his face scrunching into one of slight worry.

“Are you sure? This isn’t something lighthearted.”

You nod. “I’m sure. There’s a preventative out there, right?” He thinks for a second, then nods. “Then I’m sure.”

Finnick climbs back onto the bed, wraps one hand around his cock and the other around the outside of your thigh. He glances at you, “Just relax, okay?”, and then back at your cunt when you nod.

He lines himself up and your immediate reaction is to tense up, but you take a breath, and relax, and then he breaches.

It’s painful, not in the way that you’ve felt pain just days ago, but in a stinging way. You can feel yourself stretching around him, allowing him in, and every few inches he stops to remind you to breathe.

You feel like his member is endless, there always seems to be more and more, but he’s almost there now, home stretch, but you don’t know that until he tells you.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart. ‘M almost there,” he says, his eyes locking into yours as he takes a deep inhale, nodding when you mirror the action, then he slowly exhales. When you do the same, he slides all the way in until you can feel the base of his dick pressed against your mound.

When he’s all the way in, the curls at the base of his dick tickling you, you’re able to focus on how good it feels to have Finnick Odair’s dick nestled inside of your walls. The stretch is addicting. Your head’s spinning, your mouth salivating, and you just know that you’re gonna be addicted after this.

Now that he’s situated within you, Finnick brings his forearm back to push into the pillow beside your head. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then to your lips when you turn your head.

“Let me know when it’s okay to move, okay?”

You nod. “You can move.”

Finnick seems a little unsure, but your hips wiggle and you moan and he takes your word for it.

He starts slow, pulling out halfway then pushing back all the way in. You’re so receptive, little breaths and moans leaving your lips and immediately meeting his ears. He relishes in the sounds, the auditory display of satisfaction going right down to his groin, encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper.

He starts to pull out more, inch by inch, and push back in with more force. There’s no way for you to describe the feeling you’re in other than euphoric. For a second, you search your brain for descriptors, ways you can put the feeling to words for when you think about it later on, but you come up so short and Finnick is making you feel so good that you forget what you were thinking about in the first place with the next thrust.

“Doing okay?”

“More than okay, Finn.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” He lifts his face to level it with yours, green eyes staring at you, watching you get lost in his gaze and blink yourself awake multiple times. “You can do it, baby. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Is he reading your mind?

“You’re an asshole.” He laughs.

“That’s no way to treat the guy making you feel this good, is it?”

He tilts his head, waiting for your response. You shake your head, back to being fucked out, and Finnick decides to let you off the hook for now.

He leans down, pushing his lips to yours and letting you sloppily kiss him while his hips rock into yours.

You didn’t think there was a way that you could feel better than this, but Finnick shifts his hips when he pulls out, then he pushes back in with more assurance and confidence and he finds that same spot and your back arches, your chest pushing into his.

“That’s it,” Finnick coos, either talking to himself or you, you’re not really sure. Either way, you still nod.

The linen sheets rub at your back, the crisp pillow cover crinkles with each thrust that sends you up the bed a little more, you can feel your pussy leaking around Finnick. You can smell him, a mix of the smell of the sea and a musk that is so unique to him that you want the scent to live permanently in your nose.

Your eyes are open, somehow, and you’re watching Finnick. The way the vein in his head pops out every so often, how his tanned skin looks in the low light of your bedroom, the way sweat reflects off of his forehead and a bead looks as if it’s going to trickle down and land onto your tit. You watch it, lost and mesmerized by everything that is Finnick Odair, and when it lands on your chest you just feel like he’s giving you even more of himself.

You want to give him more of you, too, but you don’t know how. Not here, in this position, with this hazed state of mind, so you do what you can. You dig a hand in his hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling at the strands with just enough tension, and you arch your back from the lowest point, pushing your hips further into him.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. One of a kind.” His hips are starting to speed up a bit, getting a little sloppier too if you really focus. But all you can focus on is the slight rasp in his voice when he praises you. “Don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave this pussy after this. Don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave you.”

You know what he means. You’ve known Finnick most of your life, long enough to be able to read between lines that sometimes aren’t even there. You know what he means.

You keen, the sound a little embarrassing but not enough for you to reflect on the thought for more than a second.

“‘M close, Finnick.” You can feel it low in your belly, burning, begging for your attention. This build up feels different from the last, a little more urgent, maybe. A little more prevalent.

This build up has you desperately chasing after it, terrified that you won’t catch it, that it’ll somehow slip past your grasp and you’ll be left unsatisfied. You know you don’t have to worry about that when Finnick’s the one making you feel so good.

The hand on your thigh inches towards your core, his thumb singling out and connecting with your clit. It only takes a few tight circles and a few more expert thrusts for you to fall over the edge, your legs lifting, hooking behind Finnick’s back to keep him close to you. Not like he was planning to go anywhere.

He feels so good like this, fucking you through your orgasm. You don’t want him to pull out, but you know he should. You know he has to. He tells you as much.

“Squeezing me so hard, sweetheart. Fuck, I gotta … gotta pull out.” You really, really, don’t want him to, but you let your legs drop and Finnick pulls out and his hand wraps around his lubed up dick, pumping a few times and then he’s spilling warm spurts of cum over your tummy.

You watch your stomach rise and fall rapidly with your breaths, the white substance glistening against your skin. Finnick watches it too, then he’s coming back for more kisses.

These are a little less sloppy, a little more gentle, a little more loving.

You feel yourself slipping out of it as he kisses you, your lips a little less receptive with each passing moment. Finnick notices and he pulls back, leaving you with one more chaste kiss before he’s leaving the bed and the sound of his feet on your hardwood lets you know that he’s moving towards your bathroom.

You don’t bother opening your eyes, you just listen to the sound of the closet door opening, the sound of running water starting and stopping, more feet against hardwood, then you feel the bed dip with Finnicks weight.

You flinch, then giggle, when the towel rubs at your inner thighs and then your stomach.

Finnick giggles with you, and you feel so domestic, so loved and cared for.

You peek your eyes open, watching the way he gently cleans you up. As if he feels eyes on him, he lifts his gaze, and smiles, dimples on display.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”

“Am I still invited to spend the night?”

You pretend to think, but you’re too tired to even do that.

“If you make me breakfast in the morning,” you settle on, your hands under the folded back sheets of your bed.

You slip under the sheets and you watch Finnick carelessly throw the towel off to the side of the bed. Your mouth falls open. “And clean that up,” you add.

Finnick doesn’t bother responding. He just climbs to the top of the bed, slips under the covers with you, and pulls you to his chest with a kiss to your head.

Cuddled up with Finnick is a feeling you know you could get used to, and you hope you’ll be able to. You try not to think about how fleeting this could be. Instead, you force yourself to be optimistic, focusing on the riches you now have, and the beautiful home that’s on the beach and next to your best friend, and the way he’s holding you so securely to his chest, and the peaceful sleep that’s begging to be welcomed into the equation.

You decide to count it in, nestling even further into Finnick’s warmth and closing your eyes.

They immediately reopen and squint at the corner to the left of your bed.

“Finnick,” you whisper, continuing when he hums. “There’s a bug in the corner.”

“Where?”

You lift a finger, pointing to where it is. “Right there.”

Finnick sighs and stands.

“And pick that towel up while you’re at it please.”

#finnicksworld!#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair smut #finnick odair #celeste writes thg #the hunger games smut #the hunger games

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theminecraftbee · 4 months

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minotaur Joe for the fanon swap prompts? i feel like he'd do something very philosophical and Joe(tm) about mythology. or butterfly/moth Joe?

After waking up with a headache and looking in the mirror to shave, Joe pauses. He stares at his reflection in the mirror. For the past several days, he hadn't thought anything of it; it's usual enough, for a hermit to start to get weird as the day of the start of a new project approaches. Why, if all that moon stuff hadn't happened, Joe can only imagine what growing snakes would have been like for Cleo.

He wonders if it was anything like this: Joe wakes up, stretches, hears weird clacking as he goes to the bathroom, goes to grab his razor, and rather abruptly realizes that he doesn't have a beard, or, rather, that since he now has a bull's head, he has far more beard than can possibly be reasonably shaved, and he should throw the whole concept of 'shaving a beard' out the window.

"Huh," he says. "I guess growing horns does give people a headache? Who knew?"

If his voice is wavering as he says it, well, no one's around to hear. They're between seasons, and while Joe is sharing a server with several hermits at the moment, his mountain lodge doesn't have much by way of neighbors. He's alone to have this horrible revelation.

"How will the bunny ears look with the bull head?" he asks himself. He tries to picture the result and, determining it a little less existentially terrifying than a sudden, unplanned change of species, decides to put them on. He nods. "I am a Playboy Minotaur," he mutters to himself. "I am confident! Composed! Perhaps even a sexyman? Eh, I'll workshop it. I wonder if there's better-matching armor for this..."

He hitches in his morning routine when he realizes the weird clacking he'd been hearing had been hooves. Realistically, he should now be wondering how well any of his boots will fit, now that he doesn't really have toes, and if he needs to be shoed, like a horse might, to protect the hooves from damage instead. Realistically, he should be contacting Iskall about whatever modifications need to be made for the remainder of his time hunting vaults before season 10 starts. Realistically, he should be hunting down one of the less-human hermits and asking if eating burgers to gain levels is now cannibalism. All of these things are realistic concerns that he can bother people about right now, if he wants to!

Unrealistically, he's thinking more about a conversation he'd had with Cub the other day as he stares at his hooves, hands shaking far, far more than he'd care to admit.

They'd been arguing about who Daedalus was.

It had started when they started planning together. Joe had mentioned wanting to build a labyrinth a little bit ago, and Cub, who apparently loved building mazes, was going to help out with the planning. With any luck, all of the hermits were going to help build it! He'd rambled about giving himself a bit of themeing about Theseus as a result, about conquering this whole labyrinth build, this project he'd designed not to really have an end. About having to guide himself in and out through twisting tunnels.

Cub had then pointed out that if Joe had been building it, that technically makes him Daedalus; the one guy who knew the layout, the genius inventor building the trap for the server, designing its hallways. Joe had argued that was who Cub would be; Cub is the expert madman inventor being brought on, and Joe just like, wanted to build a maze. Cub had said that that sort of made Joe Minos then, but given season seven, the guy who once got cursed to turn everything he touched to gold didn't feel very fitting. Joe had agreed it hadn't fit. Maybe they'd split Daedalus then, if Theseus was a little too thematically muddled?

They'd laughed about it. Joe hadn't really intended for the maze to be based on myth, anyway. That would be stealing Cleo's bit, and he knows better than to do that.

And yet.

"We didn't consider I might be the Minotaur," Joe says to no one in particular. "You know. Of the figures associated with the Labyrinth, we didn't consider the big bull trapped in the middle. I should tell Cub we forgot about that one. It'll be a real laugh."

He can't quite say out loud the thing he's really thinking, which is this:

Well, if the universe has decided the guy with the maze won't be the hero, or the inventor, or the king, but the bull it was designed to trap--well. What's that say about him, exactly, in symbology?

"Maybe it's just in reference to the vaults," he says, trying to hype himself up. It falls a little flat. He takes a deep breath. He realizes he's still holding his razor, even after crossing his house to get the bunny ears. He goes to put the razor down and catches sight of his head in the mirror once again.

Monstrous. He's friends with a lot of monsters, of course; he's known Cleo for more than a decade. And his mannerisms, they're still him. But right then, in that moment...

He pokes the bunny ears.

"I am the Playboy Minotaur," he says, more insistently. "Didn't Iskall have that dress he had covered in flowers? That's what's really important here. That, and the obligatory cannibalism if I want to reach the level 100 goal in time, of course. The Minotaur clearly ate meat, despite being a cow, and ate people, despite being half person, but we really know nothing about what cow would do to my diet. Hold on, I have a very confusing message I can write Iskall about this one."

He deliberately turns away from the mirror and goes to write Iskall something that will explain nothing at all, and then tell Cub about their oversight. It's not like he can change it now.

#answered #ask game #hermitcraft #joe hills #a bee fic #prompt ficlet #minotaur joe is VERY GOOD given. his season 10 plans. you know #man builds a labyrinth. somewhat concerned and upset to discover that he's the guy who's going to be trapped in it.

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therhythmafterthesummer · 1 year

Text

Herbie (M) ~Bang Chan | 02

Pairing: Mechanic!Chan x F.Reader Themes: Smut | Fluff | Friends to Lovers (kind of) Word Count: ~5k | AO3 Synopsis: As it turned out, your hot mechanic friend also had a crush on you. After rocking your world in his repair shop’s office, you wake up the next day on his bed in his clothes, ready to spend a lazy morning together. [This is a second and final part to Herbie]. Warnings: curvy/chubby reader · pet names · this is like super domestic · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Author’s Note: does it count as friends to lovers if they already fucked and were planning to go on a date???? i honestly don’t know lol. but anyway, i felt like writing the morning after the events of Herbie, so here we are ! i think i’ve gotten all the wiggles out with this one, so for now i hope this remains as a two shot~

Smut Warnings: oral [F.Rec] · nipple play · protected penetration (piv) · honestly there’s hardly anything to warn about this is all so soft

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

You could feel movement all around, you could hear movement all around. The gentle rustle of fabric, soft tapping sounds on the tiles, the flow of water… You weren’t really sure if you were fully awake and actually noticing these things, or if you were still dreaming. All you knew for sure was that the pillow under your head, the one between your thighs, and the duvet over your frame were incredibly soft and comfortable.

After a long while, you felt movement again, and then you felt warmth.

The gentle feeling of plush lips on your forehead brought your senses back to the land of the living, and, in a second, you remembered. Herbie had died on you, Chris had saved you once again, he’d made you feel loved and wanted and cared for in just a few hours, he’d brought you to his place and talked with you until you both were too tired to keep your eyes open, he’d given you one of his t-shirts to wear to bed, and right now, he’d just kissed your forehead and he was pulling away.

“Where you going…?” You mumbled, blindly reaching for him.

Chris chuckled, leaning in and pressing a kiss on your cheek. “I have to walk Wolfgang. I’ll be back in no time, you continue sleeping. Hm?”

A pout made its way onto your lips, but you hummed in agreement anyway, because there was no way you’d stop him from taking Wolfgang on a walk. Wolfgang deserved all the walks.

With one more kiss to your forehead and a ‘be right back, beautiful’, Chris left the room, and after a few minutes you heard the front door open and close behind him. You changed positions, laying on your other side–taking special care to move the pillow between your legs with you, because there was nothing more comfortable when you had big thighs than having a pillow between your legs when you laid on your side.

As you laid there, only half awake, your brain started recounting the events of the night. You’d been at Chris’ place a couple of times throughout the past handful of months, but never this late, and never this long. You’d always been comfortable with him, but yesterday, sitting face to face on his sofa, with Wolfgang napping on the floor right by your feet was just something else.

It was nice to be able to talk so freely with him, even more than you were already doing before. The topics ranged from what you were going to do with Herbie, to commenting on whichever show you both had been watching these days, and even to heartfelt confessions.

‘Always knew I was attracted to you, but I’m gonna be fully honest, the moment you kept talking to me after our two hour video call where all I did was ramble about Pokémon, I knew there was no going back for me’, Chris had told you, and you had simply laughed, telling him how oddly specific that was, to which he also laughed and offered a ‘you’re laughing, but I’ve seriously had people ghost me after something like that. Some just don’t get it!’

You clearly fell asleep again, because the next thing you registered was Chris slinging an arm over your waist and pulling you back to his chest. You vaguely registered the ‘welcome back, baby’ that came out of your mouth, just like you vaguely registered Chris’ lips on your neck, pressing soft kisses on your skin while he mumbled a ‘thank you, pretty’.

You laid there in Chris’ arms for a while, until he started to snore and you started to feel like you really needed to go to the bathroom. Chris was holding on tight to you, so you had a bit of difficulty pulling yourself away from his embrace. He seemed to barely even register it, his snoring remained steady as you walked past a sleeping Wolfgang, out of the room, and into the bathroom.

After relieving yourself and splashing a bit of water on your face, you cringed a bit at the fact that you couldn’t apply your moisturiser, but as you looked at the brand new toothbrush Chris had given you last night, sitting right next to his in a cup on the sink, you figured it was a small price to pay for being here. You looked at yourself in the mirror, admittedly smiling a bit like a fool as you remembered the events of the night again. Sigh, I’m down bad, bad, huh? was all you could think while a small giggle passed your lips.

With a fresh face, an empty bladder, and a minty mouth, you finally made your way back to Chris’ room, yawning and stretching a bit before you finally tucked yourself back under the covers to find a pouty Chris looking at you with only one eye open. You just smiled at him and gave him a quick peck before you snuggled closer, tucking your head under his chin.

Chris hummed, bringing an arm under your neck to curl around your shoulders, just as he took a hold of your thigh to hoist it over his hip and push a leg between yours, essentially tangling your limbs together so you could be as close as possible. Even if it was just a simple gesture, your heart was racing, feeling just so incredibly full.

“Would it scare you off if I told you I like waking up with you on my bed?” Chris mumbled against your hair, leisurely dragging his hand up and down your bare thigh as he spoke.

“It takes a lot to scare me off”, you chuckled, giving in to the urge of attaching your lips to his collarbone. How could you not kiss him there when he was shirtless and his skin looked just so incredibly kissable? And even more so when the gentle morning light filtering through the drapes was enough for you to see his skin flush with each peck of your lips.

After a few moments of you just kissing Chris’ collarbones, his chest, his neck, you felt the warmth of his hand leave your thigh, only to appear again on your chin. He tilted your head up a bit to get you to look at him. There was such a sincere smile on his lips, you just weren’t sure where to focus, on that smile, on his brown eyes, or on the barely perceptible freckles under them. You just couldn’t help the heat that spread over your face at the sight.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful, you know?” Chris leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And cute”, another one on your cheek bone. “Pretty”, and another on the tip of your nose.

Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach, just with his words and his gentle kisses you could feel minute shivers running up and down your spine and the fine hairs on your arms stand on end. Before you could even say anything, Chris was kissing you, slowly, tenderly savouring you. He returned his hand to your thigh, squeezing all the way up, holding you tight against him as he finally reached your bum to sneak his fingers under your underwear so he could grab a proper handful, eliciting the tiniest moan to fly past your lips and get lost in his mouth.

You brought your hands to his head to card your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp as you went, and, with a groan, Chris moved, gently pushing you onto your back as he laid on top of you, not stopping the movements of his lips against yours for a second.

With a hand still tangled in his hair, barely pulling the strands, and the other roaming his back, you just let yourself enjoy the feel of him pressed against you. His warm skin under your hands, his weight on you, his lips on you, there was honestly nothing else on your mind other than Chris and his warmth.

Finally detaching himself from your mouth, Chris trailed kisses all the way to your neck, where he settled to suck and nibble on your skin, making you squirm and whine softly. One of his fingers twisted on the side of your underwear as he continued his motions on your neck, seemingly in no hurry to take the garment off at all, almost like he was doing it just to keep his fingers busy, or even to tease you a bit–if that were the case, it was certainly working.

Trailing all the way back up your throat, his mouth found yours again, and he kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue inside your mouth as soon as you parted your lips for him. He was wearing only his boxers, so you could feel him already hard against you. That, coupled with his kisses, with his hold on you, had wetness pooling at your core, all combined had lewd noises escaping your mouth.

When Chris finally untwisted his fingers from your underwear, he propped himself on one elbow for leverage, moving his hand up from where it’d been pressed against your hip, slowly dragging it all the way up to your ribs, bringing the hem of the tee you were wearing with it, encouraging goosebumps to raise on your skin with the soft movement.

“Mind if I take this off?” Chris mumbled against your lips, pressing a brief kiss on your lips for good measure.

You just shook your head, giving him the go-ahead. If he didn’t get you naked now you were sure you’d combust, you never thought you’d ever needed anyone in your life quite like you were needing Chris at this very moment.

Chris shuffled a bit, moving to kneel between your legs just as he took a hold of the hem of your t-shirt, carefully pulling it over your head, leaving you in nothing but your knickers.

“Fuck…” You could see his eyes jump all over you, taking in the sight of your bare chest, and it occurred to you then that he hadn’t seen your full naked body last night. He might’ve ravished your cunt like a starved man, but that didn’t seem to stop him from blushing at the sight of your bare breasts. “Look at these…”

Cupping your tits, Chris squeezed them gently, kneaded them, just overall felt them in his hands, warming you up, and you couldn’t help but flush.

“Thought you were an ass guy”.

Chris’ eyes snapped back up to yours, and he laughed, but the movement of his hands didn’t stop. “Baby, I’m an everything guy. Fuck, wish I had more hands. Wanna touch you everywhere”.

His comment made you laugh, too, but the sound quickly caught in your throat as soon as his thumbs dragged over your nipples.

He did it again, with a bit more pressure this time. The action had heat creeping on your face, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip to contain the obscene sounds that were threatening to come out of your mouth. Chris, on the other hand, looked absolutely delighted.

“You’re sensitive here, too, huh?” He had a smirk plastered on his face, and whichever thought that was crossing your mind completely flew out the window the second he started to roll your nipples between his fingers, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, just enough to make you close your eyes and your thighs twitch. “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Let me hear those pretty noises I know you can make. Hm?”

You didn’t think you could flush any further, but here you were, feeling heat everywhere. On your face, your neck, between your legs… And the feeling seemed to intensify the further he worked your chest, the further you let quiet noises slip out of your lips as you barely held his gaze.

“Chris?”

“Hm?”

“Want… Want your mouth”.

As soon as you said the words, Chris dived, gently sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You simply moaned, threading your fingers through his hair once again to further push him against your chest. With his mouth on one nipple and his fingers on the other, his motions had sparks of pleasure coursing through your body, shooting straight to your now aching core.

Chris focused on your chest for a while, shifting his mouth from one nipple to the other occasionally to provide equal attention, mumbling mindless words of praise in between, ‘gorgeous tits… So soft here, huh…? Wanna kiss you all over…’ effectively driving you up the wall. You yourself could hear the desperation in your voice whenever you moaned or whined or whimpered under his tongue, and it was right when you were close to begging for more that he finally detached his mouth from your chest entirely, swearing under his breath.

In one swift movement he’d yanked your underwear off, pushed your legs apart, and found his way between your thighs, attaching his mouth to your clit and sucking on it. The movement was so sudden you just couldn’t contain your sounds of delight, what started as a moan ended as an incredulous laugh that Chris matched immediately, the rumble of his laugh enhancing the tingles of pleasure that extended to all your limbs. He removed his mouth from your heat only long enough to shift his weight so he could lay comfortably on his stomach, take a hold of the back of your thighs, and push them towards your chest to get better access to your centre.

As soon as his mouth resumed its motions between your legs you sighed, melting completely under the gentle nudges of his tongue.

After bringing one of your thighs over his shoulder, Chris blindly reached for your hand. As soon as he found his target, he took a hold of your hand and brought it to his head, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you dragged your fingertips over his scalp.

“So you… Like it when I play with your hair?”

Chris just hummed in response, with a hint of a smile in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, sucking a tad bit harder on your clit to make his point. You just laughed, not because it was particularly funny, but because it was the only way your body knew how to express the feelings coursing through you right now. And when you tugged on his hair, he just buried himself deeper, closing his eyes and humming once again, a sound of unadulterated satisfaction that had fire burning deep inside of you.

He was moving just so leisurely, like he had all the time in the world to be just here, right between your legs, a complete contrast to how borderline desperate he’d been last night. Every time he opened his eyes and looked at you, you could barely even hold his gaze, the slow but precise licks and sucks and kisses had your head swimming, had you quietly moaning and whimpering as you got lost in the stars twinkling in his eyes.

Much like yesterday, he looked at you with want, need, hunger, but in a different way. A softer, gentler way that somehow also had your toes curling, had you throwing your head back in glee, and had your heart growing ten sizes in your chest.

Detaching his lips from you briefly, Chris got a finger in his mouth, thoroughly coating it in his saliva to then bring it to your entrance, pushing it in to lightly massage your sweet spot as the hand he had on the thigh over his shoulder kept squeezing your flesh.

You could feel your legs start to tremble as he added more fingers, as he increased his speed, stuffing you full of three of his digits while his hand moved up your thigh to rest on your lower belly, kneading and gripping the soft skin in tandem with his mouth on your clit and his fingers in your cunt, and you honestly were starting to think you’d died and gone to heaven.

You genuinely weren’t sure how long Chris spent working you up, touching you, kissing you, fucking you open with his fingers, kneading your soft flesh with his hand. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, or even hours, but neither of you seemed to mind or care at all; all you cared about was the feel of him between your legs, the smell of his shampoo on the pillow below your head, his hair between your fingers, and how incredibly close he was getting you to your impending release.

Nothing had ever tasted sweeter than Chris’ name on your tongue once he finally pushed you over the edge, nothing had ever felt as satisfying as the way he softly sucked and licked at your clit to drag the very last wave of pleasure he could out of you. Your body slumped when you started to come down from your high, and your legs twitched a bit when he placed one final kiss on your clit and removed his fingers from your still sensitive walls.

Chris kissed his way up your body, lightly sucking on your skin as he went until his mouth found yours, leaving you breathless with the passion of his kiss and the slow grind of his hips against your core, surely getting his underwear drenched in your juices as he continuously dragged the outline of his erection over your folds. He didn’t seem to mind or care at all, in fact, he seemed to be just completely lost in the feel of you under him, in the feel of your tongue against his own, and the feel of your fingers gently running down his back.

“Baby…” You mumbled, resting one of your hands on his shoulder and the other on his round bottom. “Baby, need to breathe”.

Chris chuckled, pulling his mouth from yours to repeatedly kiss your cheeks, finally stopping the movement of his hips between your legs, but keeping himself flush to your body. “Sorry”.

“No, you’re not”, you laughed, still slightly breathless, but you hugged him tight anyway.

“No, I’m not”, Chris gave you a cheeky smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself, and, honestly, while you still felt pleasure coursing through your body from your orgasm, you just couldn’t find it in you to pretend to be mad at him.

Pulling himself off of you fully to give you a breather, Chris got rid of his underwear, and you propped yourself on your elbows to just look at him in all his glory, broad, strong, naked…

“You’re unfairly handsome, you now?”

Chris giggled, a pink tint coloured his cheeks, and he shook his head side to side while he found his way between your legs once again, kneeling on the bed, sitting back on his heels and looking down at you with an incredibly fascinating mix of endearment and lust swimming in his eyes. Scooting as close to you as he could, he placed a hand on your thigh just as he brought the other close to his mouth to spit on it. After spreading his saliva all over his shaft, he finally closed his fist around his length to leisurely stroke himself.

“I wholeheartedly believe you’re the pretty one in this relationship”.

A teasing smile spread on your face, and you quirked a brow at him, ignoring any possible self-deprecating comment your brain immediately came up with at that moment, choosing instead to focus on holding back the laugh that was threatening to come out of your mouth. “Oh? So we’re in a relationship?”

“If you want to be”, Chris tightened his hold on your thigh, but kept the movement of the hand working his cock the same slow, steady pace.

“Do you?”

“I do”, Chris answered in a heartbeat, giving you a genuine smile, an adorable smile that made his eyes disappear and his dimples show on his cheeks, and you were sure your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

You replied confidently anyway, because if there was one thing that Chris made you feel was confident, and fearless. “I do, too”.

Chris was about to say something, but whatever it was died on his tongue, replaced with a groan when Wolfgang suddenly jumped on the bed and found his way towards you, sniffing you and attempting to lick your cheeks, making you laugh while you tried to pull away.

Chris let go of his cock immediately, taking a hold of Wolfgang’s collar to keep him from jumping on you and crushing you. “Dude, this is quite possibly the worst moment for you to show affection. Go away”.

Wolfgang, however, took this as a sign to start playing, shifting his attention from you to Chris in a heartbeat and trying to jump on his shoulders, hitting your leg with his wagging tail in the process. “Dude!”

You honestly couldn’t stop laughing.

“Come here, you giant twit”, Chris scooped Wolfgang into his arms. With admittedly a bit of difficulty since his dog kept trying to play while Chris held him, he got out of bed and left the bedroom entirely. You could hear Wolfgang’s tail hitting the walls as they went, just like you could hear Chris lecturing him. ‘You can’t do this to me. You gotta understand the act of making puppies is very, very sacred. Think of the bro code, dude. You can’t just interrupt and jump on my girl like that!’

Your laughs turned to soft chuckles, and you reached for your eyes to wipe the tears that had collected at the corners. Shuffling could be heard in the living room, and then you heard running water.

After a moment, Chris came back into the room, huffing in annoyance, and ruffling his hair. The sight of his length half hard and bobbing between his legs with every step was oddly amusing to you.

“What’d you do?” You asked as soon as Chris was back into your arms and nestled between your legs so he could kiss you.

“Gave him a scolding and a Kong filled with treats to entertain himself”, he mumbled between kisses, propping himself on an elbow.

The cold feeling of his still slightly moist hand dragging down your side made you shiver.

“Don’t scold Wolfgang. He’s a good boy, he just wants to play”, you chuckled, speaking between kisses.

“What about me?” Chris pulled himself away from your hold, reaching for his nightstand. “I wanna play, too, but I can’t if he’s here”.

“Got performance anxiety?” You watched Chris rummage the first drawer of his nightstand, where he clearly didn’t find what he was looking for.

Chris chuckled, opening the second drawer and rummaging the contents there, too. “Why? Wanna get fucked with an audience? Can’t give you that, babe. I want you all to myself”.

He finally found what he was looking for, a condom, which he immediately opened and rolled over his once again fully hard length. “Besides, doesn’t it unsettle you a bit to have Wolfgang specifically watch us have sex?”

“Only if he tries to get involved”, you chuckled.

“Freaky, huh?”

You licked your lips when Chris got comfortable between your legs again and started to drag the head of his cock up and down your slit. “Not even close to being the weirdest thing about me”.

“True”, he chuckled. “The way you wash the dishes both fascinates me and puzzles me to this day”.

He just kept dragging the tip of his length all over your cunt, spreading your juices around, stopping at your entrance sometimes but not going in. He was very obviously teasing you, and you couldn’t help but whine. “Babe…”

“What?” He grinned at you, brushing your clit with his tip briefly, only to dip back down to tease your entrance.

“Christopher”, a pout made its way onto your lips, just as you rolled your hips to try and get him to go in. Sadly, it didn’t work. If anything, it only made Chris giggle.

“God, you’re just so cute”, he was giggling still, and you would’ve probably said something about it, had he not eased himself into your heat with one swift movement, filling you up fully, making you gasp.

Chris leaned into you, propping himself on his elbows to plant a kiss on your lips. You simply hugged him close, caressing his lower back, softly tracing the dimples there with one of your fingers just as your free hand made its way to his bum again, squeezing once he started to move, ever so slowly.

“So, so cute”, Chris mumbled against your lips, and you just hummed in response.

Parting from your lips, he started a trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck, mumbling between each press of his lips against your skin. “So soft, too…”

He dragged his hand up and down your thigh, squeezing sporadically, keeping that slow pace of his hips. “Tight…”

You couldn’t help but whine, your brain once again turning to putty with every drag of his cock against your walls, with every tight squeeze to your soft flesh, with every love bite he left on your skin… Bringing your other hand to his buttock, you grabbed a handful in each hand, revelling in the way Chris groaned against your neck and how his pace picked up the tiniest bit.

A part of you–a very needy, greedy part of you–wanted to beg him to go faster, to go harder, but another part of you simply wanted to enjoy his slow and precise movements, especially when Chris seemed to be enjoying it all just like this.

As you dragged the tip of one of your fingers up his spine, he swore under his breath and kissed you, so deeply you weren’t sure what had you involuntarily clenching around him, if it was the feeling of his tongue against yours, or his cock stretching you open and hitting the utmost sensitive areas within your walls.

Detaching himself from your mouth, Chris pressed his forehead against yours, the lack of barrier letting your soft moans freely spill from your lips.

One of his hands found yours, linking your fingers together, holding it tight and pressing it to the mattress as you mindlessly whispered sweet nothings to him. How good he felt inside of you, how well he was fucking you open, how handsome he was… Anything and everything that came to your hazy mind, all while Chris just groaned lowly, sounding just so incredibly lost in the feeling of you and your body it almost made you lightheaded.

Burying his cock as deep as he could, he stilled, catching your mouth in a heated kiss when you buried your hand in his hair and tugged.

“Sit on me”, Chris mumbled against your mouth, pressing a brief kiss on your lips right after for good measure.

You simply nodded in response. The sudden lack of his body heat, of his length inside of you, of his weight on you, almost gave you whiplash, but you moved regardless, and as soon as Chris was on his back, you straddled him, keeping yourself lifted enough to align his cock with your entrance.

You couldn’t help but moan once he was back within your warmth, just like Chris didn’t seem to be able to hold back his groan of satisfaction when he was snugly buried to the hilt. Bringing his hands to your hips, he squeezed hard on your soft flesh, swearing under his breath as he took in the sight of you fully sitting on his lap.

“Fuck, look at you–” He all but choked on his words as soon as you started to move, bracing yourself on his chest for leverage so you could bounce on his cock.

“Was this what you’d imagined?” You asked, admittedly a bit breathless. “During your–Fuck… Your hip thrust sets?”

“Baby…” Planting his feet firmly on the bed, and with his tight grip on your hips, Chris started to thrust up, so suddenly you fell on your elbows at either side of his head, moaning loudly. “It’s… So… Much… Better”, he emphasised each word with sharp thrusts, hitting your walls just right, making you whine.

You tried your best to match his pace, bringing your hips down when he brought his up. You could feel your soft flesh rippling every time your bodies collided, and you honestly couldn’t contain the sounds that were flying past your lips as Chris kept relentlessly ramming into you.

“You’re a fucking dream”, Chris groaned, pulling one of your arms behind your back and holding it in place with one of his strong hands to keep you flush against his body, chest against chest, while his other hand moved from your hip to grab a handful of your ass. “You take it so fucking well, fuck…”

All you could do was whine as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, attaching your lips to his throat in an attempt to muffle the pathetic sounds that were coming out of your mouth. As soon as your free hand made its way into Chris’ hair and tugged, he groaned, and his hands tightened their hold on you in response.

The longer you stayed there taking a pounding, the longer your clit rubbed against his lower abdomen, the more you felt your sanity slip between your fingers, leaving nothing in your mind but Chris and his cock ramming into you and his hands holding onto you.

You wanted to tell him how close you were, but you honestly weren’t sure if the words came out of your mouth at all. All you knew for sure was that after one particularly hard thrust you finally found your gratifying relief, mindlessly biting on Chris’ shoulder to somehow keep your mind a bit grounded through it all.

You vaguely registered Chris swearing, loudly, repeatedly, until the hand on your rear pushed you flush against him and the most delicious sounds flew past his lips as he came. You clenched around him, somewhat on purpose, somewhat because he just sounded so incredibly hot when he groaned and moaned so close to your ear you just couldn’t help your body’s reaction to him.

“Fucking hell…” Chris mumbled, turning his head enough to absentmindedly press kisses on your cheek, finally letting go of your arm and your buttock so he could wrap his arms tightly around your waist, holding you close.

You turned your head fully, catching his mouth in yours for a slow, gentle kiss, moving the hand that had been held on your back to softly caress his cheek while the other simply played with the more than mussed curls on his head.

You both laid there for a moment, until Chris muttered a ‘gimme a sec, baby. Gotta get rid of this fucking condom before I go soft and cum gets everywhere’.

So you got off of him, dropping to the side to catch your breath as you watched him leave the room to dispose of the soiled latex and come back in less than a minute. As soon as he was back on the bed he asked you to lay on top of him again, and you did, chuckling a bit once you straddled him and rested your weight on him.

“So this is why you wanted me, huh? So you could use me as your own personal weighted blanket?”

Chris just laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist and burying a hand in your hair to softly massage your scalp. “How do you even come up with this stuff?”

“I’m a part-time comedian”, tucking your head under his chin, you couldn’t help but sigh, feeling content, and immensely satisfied.

Chris hummed, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “And a full time cutie”.

You pulled yourself away from his neck briefly, regarding him with a smile before you kissed him.

“Have you ever had Venezuelan food?” Chris asked as soon as you pulled back from the kiss, softly caressing your back.

“No, why?”

“There’s this really good place in the city centre I think you’d like… Was thinking maybe we could go there tonight”.

You quirked a brow at him with a teasing smile on your lips. “For our date?”

“God, yeah”, Chris giggled, blushing a bit as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb, and somehow the sight of him blushing made your face heat up as well. “For someone so dense, you’re incredibly confident sometimes, you know? No wonder you got me all smitten like a fool”.

“Ohhh, you’re smitten?” You couldn’t help but tease him further.

“And like a fool. That’s a very important part”, Chris grinned at you.

You kissed him, because why wouldn’t you when he was so cute and hot and his lips were so kissable? Especially when he was almost glowing with the after-effects of his high, and when he was looking at you with borderline sparkly eyes.

“I like you so much, Chris. It’s embarrassing”, you mumbled against his mouth, pressing another kiss on his lips to emphasise your statement.

“At least we can be embarrassing fools together”, Chris giggled, but the sound quickly turned into an annoyed groan as he felt the bed dip again when Wolfgang jumped on it, carrying a penguin plushie in his mouth, doing little hops, and wagging his tail so fervently all you could do was coo and laugh.

Herbie had indeed been a bad financial investment, but, at this very moment, all that monetary loss seemed to pale in comparison to how happy and full you felt. As you rolled off of Chris and he lunged at Wolfgang, essentially wrestling with his dog while he laughed, you were more than certain that it had all been worth it, and that you were more than ready to build your romantic relationship with Chris.

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beatingdrumspouringwine · 2 months

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The names of the Gods

I vaguely promised an essay on my thoughts on the names of the Gods about a week ago or so, and thus I shall deliver :)

A few months ago when I was scrolling on TikTok (as one does), I came across a video by @olympianbutch talking about invocations in traditional Hellenic Polytheist prayers. The whole video was good, so I'll link the video (for the invocation): [here], and you can watch it all for yourselves. (And you should watch the two videos before it, they were equally good and educational). In it, he explained why we start prayers by saying the Gods' names: "This is because the ancient Greeks believed that when you said a God's name, They went: [insert action of dramatically turning around here]." Now, this was definitely funny, but once the full implications of that statement sunk in, it permanently changed how I viewed my own praying (in a good way, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this thing based off of the video).

Now, the idea that your speech can call a God to you is something incredibly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly powerful. It means that the very second you state Their name, They can see your whole situation, and respond accordingly. I think this is something good to keep in mind, especially as the influence of 2020 witchtok/pagantok fades out (I was deep in this back then, so I'm speaking from that perspective [at some point in the future I'm doing a ramble on this as well, and how it impacted my early worship + relationships with the Gods {no hate if you were there too, I think it lowkey sucked for all of us}]). I used to feel really nervous that I didn't have a Real Connection with the Gods because I wasn't constantly hearing Their voices in my head, or having some kind of miraculous encounter with Them on a daily basis, and I used to base a lot of the idea of a "successful prayer life" around those encounters. However, since hearing of the concept of the Gods seeing you when their names are called, I've found my worries about that trickling away. When I pray, whichever God I'm praying to is there, and I can simply revel in the knowledge that I am standing (or sitting, or kneeling) in the presence of the God(s). The Gods are ever-present to begin with, but by calling upon Them in prayer, I am able to be face-to-face with Them in a more meaningful way, even if it's not something immediately sensible.

Beyond my prayer life, I've also found myself a lot more thoughtful about when I say the Gods' names. For deities that I worship frequently like Hermes or Dionysos, I'll be a bit more lax. I'll call upon Them for little things, like seeing a little crystal phallus in a metaphysical shop, or praying for safe travels. For deities that I once worshiped closely, like Artemis, I'll call upon Her in praise of the beauty of nature, especially if it's getting Real Beautiful or Real Cool. And even for deities that I rarely worship except on feasts, like Zeus, I'll call upon Him in praise of good things that fall under His domain, as a "I know it was You doing this!" kind of thing.

Anyways, this ended up a bit more rambly than I initially intended it to be, but I hope that somewhere within this ADHD-addled writing there was something of substance that's useful to you in your practice :) The Gods are always there, something something, always good, something something, I love Them.

#no seriously this ended up much more rambly than i intended #but i hope this provided something to think about at least #dionysian #dionysus #dionysos #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #dionysus deity #dionysos deity #hellenic pagan #hellenic gods #hellenism #paganblr #helpol

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monstersandmaw · 2 months

Text

First time romancing Astarion, and I'm all aboard the ace-spec interpretation of Astarion that I've seen floating around. As someone who's ace, I definitely resonated with him in this scene anyway. That hug reaction from Astarion. Oof.

And the fact that if you also romance Halsin, one of the dialogue options Astarion can give you is to say something like: 'it's not because... we haven't... in a while... is it?'... My heart cracked painfully at that, I'm not going to lie. I have spoken almost exactly that sentence before, worrying that just kissing and physical affection is not enough for someone who's not ace. To have that validated by Astarion was really special for me.

(aka, I really didn't get to know Astarion very well in my first playthrough because he didn't approve of my absolute doormat of a Tav (Kaerlyn the drow) and I didn't spend much time with him, but now with my sassy monk...? I get it. I totally get why you all love Astarion so much).

EDIT: additional dialogue from Raphael talking about Cazador indicates that it might be linked to vampirism (my own headcanon for vampires anyway is they can't get aroused without having fed recently, not just BG3 vamps, but in general)

[some poly-ace-astarion thoughts under the cut too]

I'm not 100% convinced that Astarion is really ok with the consensual poly situation in-game, because he famously doesn't say what he actually wants and is the king of manipulating others, especially in sexual situations (e.g. what Cazador sent him out to do, and how). I'm not sure if I'll reload a save and just have Halsin as a friend...

The dialogue when you check in with Astarion before the Halsin scene is... strained? Odd??? Maybe it's just me over-analysing it. He sounded strained though - his tone high pitched and more grandiose than he'd been in previous cut-scenes, where he was more softly-spoken. It sounded more like early-game Astarion to me...

Also, my dialogue options may have been totally randomised the next time I approached Astarion after a steamy night with Halsin, but they sounded kind of strained there too, and I got the 'I can never say no to you' one, which set my ace people-pleaser alarm bells ringing...

As someone who's poly-romantic but asexual, I can project/imagine here that Astarion has come to care for Tav a lot (more than he ever expected, for sure), and he genuinely wants Tav to be happy. He trusts Tav enough to know that Tav respects his autonomy and right to decide things for himself, and values Astarion for who he is, so Astarion is intellectually/conceptually happy for Tav to get something from Halsin that Astarion is not providing (sex), but perhaps emotionally that additional fact and dynamic is harder to deal with.

That could totally be me projecting though, because that's how I'd react if my husband (not ace) and I (ace) were in that situation (we've discussed it between us, actually XD). Feelings of guilt and inadequacy around sex itself are apparently very common with us ace folks, even in very healthy and happy relationships.

Anyway, that turned into a ramble I didn't intend on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I'm not looking to start any discourse about this though. If you don't see Astarion that way, or had a different experience and interpretation, that's all totally valid and I'm not trying to invalidate it in anyway.

#my two cents on ace-spectrum astarion #astarion #ace astarion #ace spectrum astarion #halsin x astarion x tav #my headcanons are gonna be a lot more nuanced than the game allows i think...#ace #asexuality #bg3

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hyuckbeam · 1 year

Text

hit or miss

you’re given a bet by your own best friend to finally earn you some kissing experience at the ripe age of 18, but what if he’s the one you’ve been wanting to kiss all along?

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

genre | fluff, just a bit of angst

warnings | y/n uses she/her pronouns, both y/n and hyuck are dumdums! kind of slow burn, curse words are explicitly mentioned, cousin!winter, i think that’s all but lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 4.3k words

note | this is pretty inspired by the webtoon “the kiss bet” because i currently have a hyper fixation on it and i absolutely love all the characters ;0; this is also way longer than intended but anyways,, i hope u enjoy! all rbs and likes are appreciated, thank you <3

D-15.

“in three, two, one, happy birthday, y/n!” your best friend, haechan announces aloud for everyone in your apartment complex to hear at 12 in the morning.

“come on! make a wish before the candles blow out!” winter, your cousin, urges you with a big smile on her face.

having just finished your night time routine and prepared yourself for a night's worth of sleep, you were rather shocked to see them with one of those trendy bento cakes and rainbow colored party hats adorning their heads.

despite your confusion, you walk up towards them with a grateful smile resting upon your lips. “seriously, when did you guys plan this?”

“oh, it was all my- ow, hey!” haechan gets cut off midway through his statement because of a nudge from winter’s elbow.

“what he was trying to say was it was all my doing. you’re welcome bubs!” your cousin beams, eyes creasing into crescents. “though i’d wish you’d hurry up. this cake isn’t holding itself up for you, y’know?” she adds on rather playfully but you can tell she truly meant it.

gathering a deep breath, you blow out the candles and cheers erupt from the people you deem closest to you. winter then sets down the cake on your coffee table in relief as your best friend slings his arm over your shoulder.

“sooo y/n, got anything planned for the year? a small resolution or something like that, i don’t know.” he rambles off, suggesting the idea of having a goal to work towards now that you were deemed an adult (though, haechan kept referring to this as the year that marks your jail-ability era).

you feel a little tingly from his touch, even when you know the two of you are just friends and nothing more. what you’re feeling is probably just a phase. it’ll go away.

“i’m not really sure, got any ideas for me?” you ask the two instead, eyeing them both in a back and forth motion.

“we can always work on that dating experience of yours- last i remember, it was up to the high number count of… zero.” your cousin chips in from the side as she slices the cake for the three of you to share, her tone sarcastic while she teases you.

it’s true, you didn’t have a lot (re: any) of experience in the dating sector, but perhaps that could change starting this year. “that… might not be such a bad idea.”

haechan’s interest seems to have been piqued — he’s making that look. that specific expression where the corners of his lips turn upwards, a brow raised, and that glint in his eye. oh, you know it all too well.

“come on.” you urge the boy. “start sharing your idea. i can practically see your mind ready to explode.”

“well, since you’ve asked me ever so kindly. how ‘bout a bet?” he starts, taking a few steps towards you with that cocky expression of his. “i bet you 10 dollars to kiss someone in two months. not that hard, right?”

“what- you want me to kiss some random person for 10 bucks?” you gawk out in surprise.

he only shakes his head, “i never said it needed to be a stranger. just, someone in general.”

you processed the idea thoroughly, running all sorts of possible scenarios in your head. wouldn’t it be much easier to kiss… haechan himself? that just seemed like the most plausible approach for you.

he wasn't a stranger — the furthest from one. you were comfortable with him. the kiss didn’t have to mean anything (though it might mean a tiny bit more to you), and in addition, you’d be making some cash.

everything seemed to check out. the only problem was that you had to ask him to kiss you. still, surely this was better than any other alternative, right?

“i’ll do it but… can’t i just kiss you and get it over with?” you finally voice out your thoughts, pretending to make your question sound playful in case the request backfires on you.

“you’re my best friend, that’s a little odd, don’t you think so?” haechan replies in the same tone, lightly ruffling your hair before going over to retrieve a slice of cake from winter.

ouch. way to have your first bit of “dating experience” be your best friend… friend zoning you. what a lovely start to your 18th birthday.

D-13.

a few days had passed since the bet you made with haechan had been established, but not one ounce of progress had been made.

to be fair, how were you supposed to kiss someone else when all you’ve ever wanted was for that kiss to be with your best friend? that’s tough luck.

you attending classes today doesn’t really help with your thoughts either, especially when both haechan and winter had been asking about said progress one after the other.

you’d be lying if they weren’t starting to give you a headache.

as if on cue, winter approaches you, some lecture books in hand and her bag slung on her shoulder. “y/n! how’s your progress?” here we go again.

“just as i told you yesterday, nothing yet.” you reply with a small sigh.

winter senses the frustration behind your words, encouraging her to suggest ideas to help you. “how about finding someone you like? it might make it easier for you know… to kiss them.”

“i don’t think that’s still a good- actually, you might just be onto something, minjeong.” your gears start to churn in your mind. in order to wash haechan off your mind, you might as well find someone else and maybe get an actual relationship out of it.

the idea was just perfect for you.

“have i ever told you how much i love you? i gotta go but i’ll see you after class, winter!” you excitedly bid her a goodbye, rushing to your classroom so you could better plan out your new gameplan.

though the most ideal situation was long gone, you now had a back up plan and you weren’t going to back down so easily from the bet.

you were now busily scribbling on your notepad, forgetting that a new student was to transfer into your class today. the teacher calls upon your attention and as you look up, your eyes land on a boy with great resemblance to a cute bunny.

apparently he’s the new transfer student.

the teacher gives him a moment to introduce himself. “hello everyone, my name is na jaemin. i hope we all get along!” so that’s his name, you thought to yourself.

surprisingly, he was told to take the seat in front of yours, offering you a small smile and a curt wave, one that you gladly return, before he takes his seat.

actually, maybe you really could forget haechan for just a teensy bit.

D-6.

a week goes by without haechan seeing you once. an entire week. was he always this eager to see you? to bask in the warm sight that is you? he thinks he must be going crazy.

the only time he ever gets updates about you is through winter which aren’t much to go on. he does remember a key detail she mentioned previously about how you’ve been spending time with that new student, jaemin.

what was so special about him anyways? well, he was surely going to find out soon.

as the bell rings to signal the start of recess, he dashes out of his classroom, taking big steps towards yours.

there, haechan finds you in his seat and he’s about to approach you until he sees you’re in the middle of a conversation with the one and only, na jaemin.

“this is how you do this, right?” jaemin asks you, directing your sight to a piece of paper that has a bunch of math formulas written on it.

“yeah! i’m surprised you got that rather quickly.” you compliment the boy in front of you with a small laugh.

your thoughts on jaemin have changed drastically since the first time you met him. he’s a sweet boy, someone you could never take advantage of. it just felt wrong to you so you just dropped your entire plan as a whole.

it was alright to lose the bet. at least you kind of made a new friend out of it, right? you smile to yourself at that thought.

to haechan, however, your smile is so bright in jaemin’s presence, it’s practically blinding everyone in sight. have you ever smiled at him like that? wait- why does that matter?

he doesn’t like you, no way.

you’re best friends, yeah. his love for you is as platonic as can be — at least that’s what he tells himself.

for someone as bold as haechan, he can’t seem to find the confidence in him to walk towards your table and steal your attention. instead, he steps out of the classroom, unnoticed by you.

D-5.

“JAEMIN DID WHAT!?” haechan yells into his phone, winter being on the receiving end of the call.

the girl tuts, “scream one more time and i’m hanging up on you. and yes, i heard he confessed to y/n. i don’t think she gave him an answer though.”

“sorry, look, i was just really surprised.” a deep sigh comes out from haechan before the call goes silent. he takes the time to process the situation, but the idea of you and jaemin being together just rubs him off the wrong way.

“doesn’t she see how bad he is for her?” he finally reasons out.

“uhuh, in what sense exactly?” winter retorts.

“he’s probably just using her to gain attention or something! can’t i look out for my own best friend?” the response is laughable, even to haechan, but he goes along with it.

winter laughs into the call, “are you even hearing yourself? that’s pretty baseless, even for you haechan.” she replies shortly afterwards. “seems to me like you’re jealous.”

“are you hearing yourself, winter? no i’m not! get your head screwed on properly!” haechan answers back in the same incredulous manner as she did to him just a few seconds ago. “who would i even be jealous of?”

“jaemin. who else? i think it’s pretty clear to most. you aren’t that great at managing your feelings, y’know-” the girl’s voice cuts off for a second, “-oh, i’m being called to dinner now but seriously, get yourself together haechan. i know you like my cousin. bye!”

the line goes beep and haechan tosses his phone onto his bed. she really did just leave him hanging like that. how could she after bringing that idea up?!

jealous? not a chance. haechan never gets jealous.

D-4.

haechan wakes up the next day feeling tired, having not slept a wink after winter’s words kept replaying in his head.

i know you like my cousin.

you like my cousin.

you like her.

and these same words follow him as he makes it all the way to school. perhaps seeing you in school would help him understand his feelings better.

he really just wants this to be over with.

with trudged steps, he makes his way to your classroom and luckily enough for him, there you were already in class before the first bell rang.

he blames it on the lack of sleep but you look so ethereal sitting down in your chair as you bop your head lightly to the music that’s presumably playing on your earphones.

the sight is something to behold- that is until he pivots his head ever so slightly and sees jaemin accompanying you. god, why does he have to be there.

so maybe haechan does get jealous. sometimes.

maybe that’s why he acts without thinking, swiftly dragging you from your chair and out to the school courtyard despite your protests.

“hyuck let me go-” you grumble, tugging on your arm but he doesn’t budge one bit. it’s only when you reach a bench in the furthest part of the courtyard he decides to get go of your wrist.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” you scoff out in disbelief. “this is the first time we’ve spoken in days. i think you could’ve just asked me if you really wanted to talk.” with the addition of those words, haechan finally realizes what he’s done. he knows it was wrong but he isn’t going to back down from the argument that was brewing between you two.

“me? how about you? you’ve been so lovey dovey with mr. perfect all this time! don’t you have yourself to blame on why we haven’t seen each other in so long?” he spat out coldly.

your heart sinks, and yet, you can’t help but feel even more enraged. its true, you’re part of the reason for the lack of communication between you two. after all, communication is a two way system. but doesn’t that also mean he’s also to blame?

“i enjoy jaemin’s company a lot! is that so wrong?” you shoot back, biting your bottom lip before mumbling the latter part of your statement. “at least he isn’t as grumpy as the person standing in front of me.”

ouch.

the boy hears this and gets ticked off even more. maybe it really is the lack of sleep but he seriously can’t understand her reasoning anymore. instead, he assumes she’s just doing all of this for the bet.

“do you really want to win the bet so bad? if that’s what you want, just kiss me and be over with it. i’m literally letting you win. you can stop seeing jaemin now.”

and that’s when it hits you a little.

why is he bringing the bet up all of a sudden when you just want a genuine relationship with jaem- oh. he couldn’t possibly see you as someone like that right? he said it himself! he doesn’t like you and even denied your request to kiss him a few weeks ago.

but, if that were all true, what other explanation would there be to his actions?

he takes your silence as a no, prompting him to leave you in the courtyard all alone.

you couldn’t seem to understand him at all no matter how hard you tried.

as soon as you got home from classes that same day, you rushed yourself back home and into the comfort of your bed and pillows — treating them as if they were your closest confidants and cried while you shared your troubles.

it wasn’t productive on your end but it was much needed for you to at least think straight. you’d been bottling your contemplations all day long after all.

here you are laying lifeless on your bed, using all your braincells to dicern what the fuck happened earlier this morning.

you know haechan doesn’t like you. you’ve said it to yourself so many times now.

maybe he’s just jealous you’ve been spending more time with jaemin because, although you have different intentions before, you realized you couldn’t see him in that way nor had the heart to just use him for your own gain.

haechan was a different story though. you feel flushed just thinking about him, knowing full well the both of you are in the middle of an argument between each other.

remembrance of the frustration hits, making you groan at the thought of having to remedy it. if you and haechan had anything in common, it would be the stubbornness you both share.

the last time you both got into an argument this big was back in junior high. neither of you spoke to the other for an entire month. it got so bad that both your parents had to call each other up to devise a way to get an apology out from the both of you.

though it would make the entire situation much easier, your parents no longer delve into these types of problems — and neither do haechan’s. you’re both all alone to fix this one yourselves and you wish you’d been more grateful to your parents for mending your relationship with haechan.

deep down, you already know the both of you will struggle to find the right timing, but you certainly hope that day would come soon. you didn’t exactly like being away from him either (even if he made you feel like shit for the rest of the day).

you decide to sleep off your worries for the night, hoping and praying that tomorrow would be a better day for you.

D-3.

tomorrow is not any better of a day.

jaemin and haechan both invited you to eat with them for lunch which quickly escalated into a light argument between the two. you couldn’t even bring yourself to butt into their conversation, seeing how they were fighting over something so silly.

“i’m her best friend, we do this pretty much everyday!” you hear haechan yell at jaemin, his frustration for the other getting the best of him. “plus, i need to talk with her. without you.”

“if the two of you are just best friends, then what gives you the right to dictate her answers?” jaemin fires back, keeping a calm and collected appearance throughout.

this shuts haechan up and the entire cafeteria goes dead silent. oh boy, did you want to curl up into a little hole. everyone was staring and you didn’t like that one bit.

nevertheless, you decided to be the bigger person — uttering a small apology to jaemin before walking off to the table you usually sat at with haechan — the latter following you a few steps behind.

neither of you speak as you begin to eat your separate meals, another sign the relationship between you two was starting to fade out into dust.

winter joins your lunch table shortly after witnessing the drama unfold, she looks at haechan with an unreadable expression and the boy stays quiet during the whole meal.

didn't he say he wanted to talk? an apology for the day before would have been nice.

you get fed up by the silence, placing your food back on the tray before picking it up. you mutter a quiet “i can’t seem to understand you at all.” directed at hyuck before leaving and switching over to the table where jaemin and his friends are sitting.

it all happened too fast and haechan didn’t realize you were leaving until you already did. he really did want to talk but how was he supposed to do that after having that situation with jaemin?

he wanted to calm down first but you had other plans. you really left him in shambles this time.

winter can’t help but sigh at the ongoing conflict. she silently wishes she wasn’t involved this much if it was going to turn out like this.

D-2.

haechan knows he truly has to make it up to you (including a long overdue explanation of why he’s been acting weirdly the past few days) but doesn’t know how to do that. apologies never came easy to him. his mind couldn’t help but go blank everytime he tried thinking of a way to approach you without making things more complicated than they already are.

the sheer amount of times he’s hit a brick wall has him calling the only person who probably knows more about you than he, himself, does.

he picks up his phone, searching through his contacts before landing on a single person, now waiting for the phone to ring.

“hello?” winter’s voice reaches him through the call. “i knew you’d call after what happened at the cafeteria.”

it takes a moment for haechan to answer, “maybe if jaemin wasn’t so aggressive–”

“you both were. now spill, have you gotten your feelings sorted yet?” the girl pushes his dramatics aside, getting straight to the point.

“i… think i do. you were right all along.” haechan finishes. although it was hard for him to admit at first, now that he’s actually said it out loud, it might be the first time he’s been feeling a sense of clarity after so long.

winter hums at his confession. “at least you’re finally taking a step in the right direction. now, to win her back…” she smiles to herself, already having a plan in mind.

you, on the other hand, have been seeing haechan and winter together often for the past week. naturally, your mind begins to wonder if your own cousin is the reason why haechan rejected you way back during your small birthday celebration.

the evidence matches up pretty well — he probably couldn’t reject you directly because she was in the room with the two of you that day. he isn’t spending as much time with you anymore because he’s spending time with her.

they look good together.

those words linger in your head more than you’d like to admit.

you feel cast aside by the people you’ve known practically your entire life but you don’t have much of a choice but to return to jaemin’s company. after all, you chose to eat the rest of your lunch at his table instead of the one that brought familiarity to you.

D-DAY.

day after day, the two of you just seemed to grow even more distant and you wondered if the end of your long-term friendship was nigh approaching. you barely saw him roaming through the halls of campus anymore, much less your cousin.

you didn’t dislike the new friend group you had (jaemin introducing you to his friends after you finally told him about your situation with haechan, but you couldn’t help but feel… dissatisfied with your current situation.)

as your class ends, you prepare yourself for another silent walk home. despite having those new friends, you felt lonelier than you ever had. you missed them. you missed him. and yet, life seemed to have other plans for you.

even trudging down these halls filled with other students made you lonely.

truthfully, you would do anything to have them back- a pain to your forehead snaps you out of your thoughts. you had bumped into someone. well, not just someone, but the person you’ve been longing for the most.

haechan. he was right in front of you after who knows how long it’s been.

you felt like crying on the spot but held in your emotions to appear like your life was anything but lost. haechan knew that look on your face, presuming you haven’t been well ever since the two of you have spoken. he takes your hands that have slumped to your sides into his, and the small gesture reminded you of the warmth he’d bring into your life.

“are you up for a short conversation perhaps?” you only nod and he takes that as a signal in the right direction, though, he isn’t used to you acting around him like this. oh boy, this was going to be more than a short conversation.

haechan leads you into the gymnasium and the two of you sit down by the bleachers with no sight of other students in the area.

“before you get mad- i wanted to apologize first. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. i was childish.” he begins, holding eye contact with you to show his sincerity. “frankly, i was jealous. jealous you spent more time with jaemin, and you seemed to enjoy you time with him more than the times we hang out together. i shouldn’t have made you feel sad in any way, but i did and that’s completely my fault. i’m sorry.” you know his words hold both his feelings and the truth.

he wasn’t going to lie to you. he never once did during the time you knew each other.

however, what he admitted to had you flustered.

he was jealous of you and jaemin? it was a little hard to believe until you remembered the latter confessed to you the past week. oh god, did word of that spread out? nevermind that, what happened between you and jaemin was the least of your worries, the boy in front of you was. what if haechan got the wrong idea from the rumors?

“it’s not completely your fault. we both were pretty stubborn.” you reply, a soft chuckle leaving your lips to ease the tension between you two. “and if… if you’re curious, i never returned jaemin’s feelings back.

haechan gets pretty taken aback by your statement, now wondering why you brought it up. “oh… i know.”

“you knew? did winter tell you?” you question in anticipation. “i guess the both of you are pretty close now.”

“she did but i swear our friendship is nothing like that!” it was his turn to get flustered. “she could never replace your spot in my life.”

“i’m a little confused though after all of this…” you gesture out, referring to the situation that has just recently moved past you two. “what spot do i even have?”

he pauses, taking his time to think of the right words he wants to tell you but they all get stuck in his throat. the expression on your face showed how you took his silence negatively, prompting him to speak. “i like you. i couldn’t admit it even to myself for the longest time and-” having enough of his rambling, you inch a little closer and give him a kiss on the lips.

it’s brief, and yet, it continues to linger on his lips. “you kissed me.”

“why do you think i never gave jaemin an answer to jaemin’s confession?”

“so you were really saving it for me? i’m honored.” he chuckles out, playfully holding his hand to his chest.

“well, you should be.” you add on with the same bright smile he’s seen you flash at jaemin, except this time, it was absolutely for him.

“i guess that also means you won the bet?” he recalls, a brow raising at you.

you give him a light nudge on his shoulder while suppressing a giggle, “oh, shut up and just kiss me. you owe me 10 bucks by the way.”

tags !!

#—hyuckbeam #nct fluff #nct angst #haechan #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct #nct aus #fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct x reader #nct dream drabbles #nct dream aus #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst

776 notes · View notes

zerobaselove · 1 year

Text

i'm serious | kim gyuvin

pairing: best friend!gyuvin x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 669

warnings: none! lowercase intended, not proofread

prompt: 6. "would falling in love with me be so terrible?"

notes: i had about a thousand different directions i wanted to take this but this is what i settled with hhh

after yet another failed date, and failed attempt at getting over your best friend, you couldn't help but feel frustrated as you rambled to said best friend, gyuvin.

you didn't understand what you were doing wrong; people got over feelings all the time, went out on dates and found people that fill the hole in their heart, so why couldn't you? the thought plagued your mind as you let words spill from your mouth without much thought. "i just wish it came easier, like how me and you are."

you were too busy to notice the way gyuvin's eyes lit up at your statement, "i'm literally right here," he gestured to himself, pulling a strange expression to appeal himself, and you couldn't help but laugh. "gyuvin, i'm serious, i can't deal with your jokes right now."

your head fell into your hands, you knew better than to let your friend's humor get your hopes up, you'd let it happen one too many times. not again. one too many times of taking his jokes too seriously and thinking for a moment he could like you back.

"would falling in love with me be so terrible?" he whined, miserably failing at trying to cover up the way your words ripped a whole in his chest.

"well it's not been doing me well so far," you mumbled, words muffled by your hands as you shook your head. gyuvin was a little thankful you couldn't see the way his eyes visibly widened, threatening to fall out of his head with the shock written across his face.

he stuttered for a few moments, unable to form a real thought, simply settling on "what?"

you were done beating around the bush, it was about time you came out with it anyways. it wasn't doing you any good keeping all these feelings in and maybe you'd have an easier time getting over them if they weren’t locked inside your brain. "you heard me, i fell, and look where it's gotten me," you gestured to the state of your bed, tissues strewn about, and then to yourself. "i can't get over you no matter how many dates i go on, because i can't enjoy them, because i just wish i was on them with you."

you took a deep breath, a little apologetic for overwhelming the boy with so many things at once, but you couldn't help it. once you started it was like you had opened the floodgates and every word came out with more force than the last, nearly leaving you panting.

"why would you want to get over me?" his smile got wider by the second, "don't tell me you want to waste me liking you back by just getting over me."

now it was your turn to stutter out a reply, "you what?" simply staring at the boy in front of you. "i swear gyuvin, if this is another one of your jokes," you hesitated for a moment, not even liking the idea, "i will kill you with my bare hands."

gyuvin pretended to think hard for a moment, "hm, well how do you feel about a dead boyfriend? is that really what you want? because i just don't know if i'm ready for that kind of commitment." he tried to stifle a laugh, breaking as soon as a laugh erupted from your own chest, leaving you both in a fit of giggles on your bed.

after you calmed down you broke the silence, "so, boyfriend huh?" you turned to face gyuvin only to see his wide smile once again.

"if you'll let me be, under one condition though." you gave a small hum, urging him to continue. "as long as you don't kill me, i'm too cool to be 6 feet under."

you couldn't stop the smile from tugging at your lips at the boy who was tugging at your heart, giving him a light smack on the arm. "don't do anything too stupid, and we will see."

"i'll try my best."

#zerobaseone #zerobaseonefics #boys planet #boys planet fics #boys planet imagines #boys planet reactions #kpop #boys planet drabbles #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #kim gyuvin imagines

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

my take on sagau lore / logistics

summary: sagau lore! includes you the creator, self-awareness, khaenri’ah, celestia, literally everything i could think of

word count: ~4.1k

-> warnings: spoilers for literally everything bar the sumeru archon quests. khaenri’ah lore, kaeya + albedo lore, celestia lore, archon quests, all of it. i ramble and stray off topic and swear while doing so.

-> lowercase intended. forgive the format pls

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

ok, so, just off the top of it, let’s address the largest problem with this au, specifically my genre of it:

how can teyvat be real if it’s a game?

great question! the answer is that it’s both.

i haven’t thought this through entirely, only enough that i personally can suspend my disbelief about the fics i read, but the way i see it is that you, the creator, made teyvat a billion (or more idk) years ago. you made the people—or the animals, if you still wanna subscribe to evolution—the lands, the waters and the mountains. everything was carefully pulled and molded by your hands, your influence stretching to how the wind blew.

(that’s because the god who controls it wants your attention so badly but whoooo that’s cultish territory)

anyway. fast-track past the archon war, yeah? after that was sorted, you began to hand out visions, personally at first before assigning celestia to do so. there were simply too many people, and you could not judge them all. it would not be fair.

so you didn’t.

but i’d be lying if the archon war didn’t take a toll on you. you’d been influencing it from the sidelines, carefully making sure as few innocents were harmed as possible, trying to keep the terrain intact. you were technically fighting, but on the side of teyvat itself.

(it loved you for it. every blade of grass and leaf on a stem sung your praises.)

micromanaging like that, across an entire planet, let alone trying to simultaneously set up the constellations you wanted for vision holders… you’re exhausted.

now, you could, in theory, just burrow down into the heart of the earth and rest, but that felt… impersonal, almost. you still wished to look after your world, you just wanted to have a little less responsibility while you did so.

so you left the planet, momentarily, leaving that entire universe behind, and made another. it was, admittedly, not your best work, worse than even the rest planets you tried before teyvat, but you were tired. you half-heartedly scattered some resources, salted the water, and placed the beginnings of life. with a final goodbye to celestia, you allowed your soul to rest in the core of this new planet you called ‘earth.’

now, you weren’t just going to sit there, no. as the people above lived, oblivious to the god resting in the molten core, your subconscious pulled some strings. not enough to influence wars—so many wars, so much cruelty and bloodshed—or any major occurrences, but enough to shift some small details around. these people would start a company. this game would be launched. and when you, your soul, had finally recovered from the ordeal of managing a whole planet, a child would be born.

you knew mortal minds had a hard time conceptualizing the divine, let alone dealing with the knowledge that they were one, so you made the executive decision to remove your memory. call it a product of your pity, but you decided you’d live a human life here before returning to teyvat. the world’s time difference shouldn’t make it that much longer for your lovely followers, only about a year or so, so it would be fine. you set up some dominoes, then allowed yourself to be mortal when they fell.

bad call. turns out you shouldn’t try and fudge space-time when you’re overworked and burnt out. the time dilation ended up being reversed, meaning an average life of 80 years was 4,800 years for your followers.

still, not all was lost! you, human, came into contact with a device, came into contact with advertisements from a company you, god, had a heavy hand in. the world you had loved carefully recreated, admittedly with far less detail and nuance, but what could you expect of the technology at the time?

as you downloaded the game, a final domino fell into place. the traces of divinity in your blood bled into your machine, turning the screen from a screen, and into a portal.

billions of billions of light years away, exiting this universe and entering another, two twins approached your world. they had witnessed you build it all but frowned at your lack of presence. their world, one of many that you had also crafted, still was visited by you from time to time, but this... where had you gone? were your people okay?

they approached, only to be stopped by one of celestia’s guards. boiling red cubes stung the air, lashing at their sides as she—the sustainer, she said—fought. the two drew back, sharing a look, and when they dove-

your light filled the air, time seeming to slow to a crawl. your chosen traveller sucked in a breath, feeling the familiar aura envelop them. even as their twin was swallowed, as their stomach opened into a pit and their heart crumbled, as gravity took hold of their suddenly much weaker form, you were there.

and so your journey in teyvat began once more, this time not as the creator, but as the creation.

that’s the basic lore down. yes, i know ‘basic’ took nearly 1k words on its own, but oh well. anyway, now onto some other details outside of that, such as….

the raiden shogun!

the visions were signs of your favor—not that the comman man knew that, but the gods did—so why would she ever confiscate them? simple; after you had started giving out visions, you had first passed the duty to celestia, and then… left. it’s reasonable, in her mind, that the visions were sapping at your energy, keeping you away even longer. she hoped, in a twisted sort of desire, that she could hasten your return. celestia had tried to stop her, stopping giving out electro visions, but it wasn’t enough. other visions were still in her lands, and she needed to remove them. if only on her isle of eternity, anything harming you would not be allowed.

the tsaritsa!

ok, i admit, i’m not sure how much of what i’m about to say is canon. i watch too much game theory to be 100% sure that this is Actual Lore, but… whatever. so the tsaritsa is collecting all these gnoses, right? the gods’ connection to celestia? just… kinda taking them, collecting these connections, weakening celestia so she can take it down. her reasoning is very similar to ei’s, in that you created celestia and imbued it with some of your power. however, you must have accidentally given too much, wanting them to thrive, and had weakened yourself. so, she figures, by taking down celestia, she can restore you your strength!

but wait, you ask, why not do a vision hunt decree like the shogun? simple! you gave out visions before you involved celestia, so they clearly aren’t the problem. besides, she thinks there’s a lovely poetic quality to taking down celestia with soldiers bearing weapons they awarded.

delusions!

it’s people sabotaging their health to pretend their strength is god-given, not much changes in this au. there’s implications between it and the tsaritsa’s motives for gnosis-hunting—notably if she’s taking down celestia because your strength was drained, why drain the strength of her people—but that’s ~not my problem~

morax?

morax!!! silly boy. anyway, he doesn��t see any problem with stepped down as an archon, if that’s your worry. after all, you yourself left, letting the people run themself, so…. surely he could—should, even—do the same. he feels maybe a bit bad about leaving liyue without anything, but soothes himself knowing they don’t know you’re gone. most mortals don’t, really. but in a similar vein…

venti!

venti feels the same way. if anything, his conviction is even stronger. you left your people—not entirely, admittedly, but still, you did—so he should be able to as well. he knew you had left celestia in your wake, but he had left the knights! and surely, to be overly-controlling was worse, right? you had allowed decarabian to fall, so you must not want dictators(a good thing, as he doesn’t know how he’d handle you going against one of his most core virtues).

celestia!

for the sake of the au, celestia will be kinda proxy rulers of teyvat. i know there’s probably some lore out there suggesting otherwise, likely something in the 3.2-3.3 archon quests, but i haven’t done those and so it can’t be held against me. anyway, you’re tired after the war right? so you decide, as plan A, to create celestia as a council of proxy rulers, to enact your ideals—the heavenly principles—and take care of things. this goes south, because the act of creating celestia drains even more of your strength, and you really hadn’t taken a break since you started creating teyvat so maybe it’s time to pick up plan B off the back burner…

(in celestia’s opinion, burrowing into the earth should have been plan B. taking a nap in a gilded palace should have been plan C. leaving the planet entirely was the nuclear option.)

paimon!

OOOOHHHHH BOYYYYY the emotions i have about this little fairy aidjwrkfkkds

anyway. the way i see it, she’s a manifestation of the remaining divine energy in your body/teyvat. pick your favorite, the end result is the same: she’s attached to your traveller, to you, your device. she can vaguely sense the buttons you have—which is why the tutorial changes across platforms—and loves whenever you open the paimon menu, because she can bask in your light all the more. off camera, her and the traveller gush about you. canon, i said so.

anyway, she’s the one that gives us the ability to time travel so the way i see it, she has to be at least a little divine, or be able to wield power of that strength.

take a shot every time i say strength this fic

i have some feelings about the time mechanic, most notably that it’s likely an alteration of the (very scuffed) time dilation system you implemented, but i’m writing this during school hours and can’t really be bothered with trying to rationalize that. for now, just know that Its a Thing That Exists.

co-op!

if we’re operating under the ideal that your game is the only one self-aware, then how does co-op work?

um… it doesn’t—

ok ok ok uh there’s two interpretations you can go with, of which i don’t have a favorite:

Option 1: when you go to co-op, your (self-aware) characters are transported into the digital world of your companion. they’re confused, because everything seems flat and empty of detail and there’s these weird bars above enemies and HOLY SHIT IS THAT ME???

they eventually gather that this is a false recreation of teyvat, one run by another person. whether or not they can see the chat is up to you. umm regarding farming and stuff: that means tackling the inventory, which… i’ll talk about that later, i swear-

Option 2: when you enter co-op, you leave teyvat. your vessels go back to their places—again, i’ll touch on that later, promise—and your aura leaves. paimon’s the only constant, but that’s mostly because she follows you or the traveller at all times (if you don’t have your traveller on your team… wait a few paragraphs pls). she is fascinated by the digital world, more so of the replicas of your vessels within it. maybe she tells the traveller of it when they have time.

they’re kinda similar, boiling down to whether or not you want your vessels to have a cosmic-horror level freak out at the fact that that’s them. i don’t have a favorite, and usually kinda fluctuate between the two whenever it’s convenient.

the inventory!

the inventory!!! arguably the most convenient system in teyvat, of which my answer is wildly inconvenient.

the basic principle of it is that it’s a pocket dimension, much like the one paimon vanishes into. it’s a very cool pocket dimension, with a menu and filtration systems, but that’s all it is. it preserves the quality of food, it keeps things from burning each other(i. e. mist flower corollas and flaming flower stamens are right next to each other, yet the quality of both never dwindles), and generally keeps things frozen in a sort of stasis. i like to think that vessels with a good sense of detail can pick up on an odd taste/texture to the food if it’s been in there a while, with the effect lessening as the food quality(suspicious → delicious scale) and level (stars) increases, but it really doesnt impact anything all that much.

regarding co-op: this is where things get blurry. if the inventory is a pocket dimension, and co-op is fake…. the best option is to, once more, chalk it up to divinity. whether yours, as you pick them from the digital world, of the remains of your aura in teyvat, when you return.

(another option that doesn’t work as well is thinking of the inventory as a tally, as in there’s a number of items you have and when you access it the number goes down and it summons / creates the item. the number is a representation of the power stored for that specific item- kinda like the omni-ubiquity nets, i guess? anyway, this is kinda pushing things, and though i don’t prefer it, it definitely can be useful to think about in some situations, such as an imposter au where you(reader) can draw energy from the inventory via sacrificing food or supplies. that’s really cool actually wtf-)

KHAENRI’AH HOW COULD I FORGET KHAEN-

so. khaenri’ah.

….i don’t know a lot about the lore of khaenri’ah.

[one wiki check and a lot of deleted ranting later]

khaenri’ah was a godless nation. it didn’t have a god ruling over it, it didn’t have a god influencing or building it, it didn’t have a - oh my god khaenri’ah is the nation of hubristic greed.

sorry i had a revelation mid-sentence there: to clarify, khaenri’ah was built entirely by people. they may (read: did) worship a god, you, but refused to allow you to meddle with their nation. that was their creation. you could have all of teyvat—and they would give you some of their crops to try and satisfy you—but you could not have their nation. they lived underground, away from your holy light and the overbearing gaze of celestia, and in the dark of a cave with only the earth as their witness, they began to learn khemia. they began to learn how to create, how to mimic your power. theirs was more transmutation, less pure creation, but it was so close to it that rhinedottir let it get to her head. she started her program, created durin and [REDACTED]- sorry, subject two (have i mentioned how much i hate he doesn’t have a name? fucked up fr fr). eventually, finally, after many tests and trials and rifthounds, with abyssal magic beginning to stain her hands, she created synthetic life.

the port on its neck sealed into a shimmering star, crystal blue eyes fluttering open, chalk ribs expanding as it took a breath. gold watched with rapt attention, pen falling from her hand.

she’d done it.

high on joy, she kept going, neglecting her new creation, herself, neglecting even basic safety, and eventually, she had toppled the pride of man.

khaenri’ah fell.

this allows for khaenri’ans such as dainslef, albedo, and kaeya to all know of and worship you—important, since kaeya is a character we’re automatically given—while still being bitter and jaded over khaenri’ah. this keeps as much of the lore in-game as intact as possible, with the only big difference being that khaenri’ah dedicated itself to you, but it would not be influenced by you. it was toppled by its own hubris, its desire to be divine without ever worshipping the god that made them too much for mortal men to handle. they don’t hate you, and in fact the fall of their nation has made it clear that they should have respected you more. they don’t blame you for it, as it was their own desire that brought them down, but they are a little more aware of the power of a god.

FAQ!!

i don’t have the traveller on my team, how does that work lore-wise?

excellent question! i…. don’t really know—

the way i see it, this is mostly a problem attached to the concept of ‘parties’ in the first place(again, please put a pin in the idea, we’re almost there). paimon is always with us, but the traveller… since they don’t have ‘a place to be’ as with your other vessels, as you were with them from the start… you could say that they’re always with you. silently watching from the realm of stars just outside of reality, watching you level your characters and give them strength. they wish you could pay more attention to them, but they know that teyvat is your prize creation, the people within it your most beloved. while you had encouraged them and their sibling to traverse your other worlds, it made sense that you’d want to empower these people first. your choices were.. odd, but you seemed happy, mostly, so they were too. ultimately, they are just another of your creations, and they want you to be happy just as the others do.

what happens when the game closes?

this connects to both the party system and the ‘realm of stars’ i mentioned in the traveller’s section. now, the personal belief i subscribe to is that it’s… another pocket dimension sorry—

akcnkwdjdkd ok so you know in the character menu how the background is all hazy and star-like and tinted the color of their element? i think the hydro’s have bubbles floating around but i have just spent too much time in enkanomiya-

anyway, that’s a ✨separate dimension✨. i imagine its like a line, where your characters are arranged like the bar on the side (top if you’re a pc gamer). characters can look over if they wish, though that’s dependent on some other factors (i know this is already long but i’ll elaborate on this later). the poses for weapons, artifacts, etc. are all forced on them, like strings on a puppet—war flashbacks for my scaramouche. they’re tugged into place, and stay like that. your mains are used to you fussing about with their artifacts, and have learned to simply rest into the feeling. why shouldn’t they, after all?

ANYWAY this is getting long. so when you’re in the field, your characters fall away save your party members, who move to the odd starry landscape of the party menu. there’s a large screen, which allows them to see like it’s your screen, almost. there’s a health bar, they can see the energy, and though that’s about it the important bit is that they can still see the character on field and the battle around them. this way they know what to expect, and where to aim, where to brace for an impact because sorry, they have the most hp and you need to tank this hit. when the game closes, you swap team members, etc. they are transported back to where they were prior to being on your team. now, for those you don’t utilize as often, they aren’t fully pulled into the character menu, as this would cause complications, but they are vaguely aware of when you open it. this way they can prepare in the rare case you switch to them for whatever reason.

additionally, when you shut down genshin, the traveller takes your characters’ place. they hold your place, often using the time to catch up with paimon and eat, both talking about their separate perspectives on your battle. paimon from the outside, watching the vessels switch in a shower of gold sparks, and the traveller from the inside, watching them lean on each other when their health was low and swap encouraging phrases during a tough fight. the traveller can’t really move all that much, but they don’t have to stay very still—what’s the chance you’ll notice they’re facing the wrong direction anyway?—which is good since they may have to defend themself against any enemies wandering in. if they’re off your team and unbuilt, it’s a little difficult, but between their status as an outlander and paimon’s influence, it’s not that big of a hassle.

(sorry this one’s real long but this is the concept i spent the most time developing. i have a very very long albedo fic where this mechanic is center stage so i have a lot of junk stored in my mind abt it)

what about friendship levels?

friendship levels!!! in-game they’re a metric of how long/much a character is with you, and it’s the same in sagau. the higher a character’s friendship, the more of your aura they emit by proxy, since they’re… in the absolute kindest way possible, you know how shoes have to be broken in -? yeah—

the harsh tugs of your device commanding them to move softens into a gentle guide, but they’re so in-tune with your playstyle that they go ahead of the strings, attacking slightly quicker. a high-friendship team has synergy like no other, the characters swapping just before you actually press the button to do so, their elemental reactions booming brighter, skills and bursts doing that much more damage just because they know what their doing by heart. they’re certain they could replicate it even without you, though they’d never dare, and your main sometimes finds themself repeating your usual rotation in their head to help them. swap, skill, swap, skill, burst, they mutter, their fingers tapping along where the buttons would be as they try to puzzle something out. swap, skill, swap, passive, swap, the familiar routine providing comfort.

how does the concept of being “self-aware” work?

lovely question.

…

it doesn’t.

jsksskdjd i feel like a software developer— ANYWAY-

google defines self-aware as “having conscious knowledge of one's own character and feelings”, which isn’t (inherently) the case. in relation to video games, it’s usually something along the lines of “this game is aware it’s a game” which doesn’t work since, as we’ve established, teyvat isn’t a game.

in this case, being self-aware means recognizing that you are operating through a device. it means knowing that you are not controlling them directly, that you instead use a proxy. it means, for characters like albedo, recognizing the sticky binds of code that limit his movements, it means registering that you are still far, far away, and that you only feel this close because of your device. it means, for some such as, say, diluc, there wasn’t a reason why kaeya was a vessel before him. it means knowing that their god is still lost, and knowing that they have to ensure you come back safely.

and that’s about it! discarding some icky topics such as the semantics of an isekai (which boils down to tapping into the divinity stored in your device so it doesn’t really matter much either way) and the abyss (which i don’t know enough about lore-wise, sorry) that’s everything i keep in mind when i write my genshin impact self-aware works!

if you have any further questions, feel free to either reply or send in an ask, or check out my masterlist if you want to see these concepts in practice.

have a good one!

#*shakes you awake* girl wake up midas is ranting about shit nobody cares about again!! i know i know wake up already!!!!#not fishing for compliments i just genuinely don’t think anybody was wondering about my take on sagau logistics. who would??#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin #genshin impact #self aware genshin #genshin self aware au #sagau zhongli #sagau venti #sagau tsaritsa #sagau kaeya #sagau diluc #sagau albedo #albedo #kaeya #zhongli #venti #rhinedottir #subject two #worldbuilding #paimon #sagau paimon #celestia #dainslef #sagau dainslef #this whole thing is me going ‘i haven’t really thought this through but’ and then ranting for 300 words on the topic—#anyway i genuinely do hope this clears up sagau for some people. keeping this in my head makes it easier to read others’ works because i-#-have all the questions already answered in my head. really helps with suspension of disbelief /gen #please leave your takes in the replies/weblogs if you see this my curiosity is never dated

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ateezreactionsandscenarios · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 15 - Public Sex

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Smut

CW: Public sex, fingering (F receiving), very slight degrading.

Word Count: 2965

Summary: You agree to help tutor the popular jock in your math class but it doesn’t seem like math is the subject he wants to focus on.

Prompt List MasterList Kintktober 2022 Buy me a Coffee

“Pst.” The sudden sound so close to your ear made you jump out of your skin, turning to the source of the sound you see a rather surprised Wooyoung sat next to you, who else did you expect it to be he was your desk mate. “Wow, sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispered while shooting you his signature grin. “I just wanted to ask you something.” You nod at him as you focused on getting your heart rate down to a normal level while waiting for him to ask his question. “I was wondering if you could maybe...tutor me for this class, I understand if you can’t you’ve probably got enough on your plate as it is but I’m really struggling with this and you’ve got some of the best grades in our year so...” You put a hand lightly on his upper arm to stop his rambling, despite not knowing him very well and only talking to him briefly in math class you couldn’t help but think how cute he was when he rambled. “It’s okay, I’ll be happy to tutor you.” You smile which made him sink lower into his chair in relief. “Thank you so much.” He sighs. “When are you free for tutoring, I’m pretty much free any time?”

“Same here, we could start today if that’s not too short notice for you.” You nod your head in response. You felt a little foolish for the thoughts flooding your brain, you’d always found Wooyoung attractive and you’d always wanted to get closer to him but it never happened, you always had your nose in a book or studying whenever you could while he was off hanging out with the rest of his jock friends. You always told yourself you were stupid to think he’d give you the light of day outside of class, he had so many friends as it was and so many girls at his feet willing to bend over backwards for him so why did he need to add one more to the mix, but you couldn’t help how you felt, there was a charm about him and you fully understood why all the other girls acted the way they did around him.

The bell rang signalling the end of class and you started to pack your things away before Wooyoung turned to you again. “Is lunch okay with you for tutoring? The library is usually free then.” Wooyoung’s eyes looked a little worried as he asked, it was like he felt bad for asking you to help him but you were honestly more than happy to help. “Sure that’s good with me I usually spend my lunch there anyway so it’s no difference to me.” The worry melted off his face and turned into his usual smile, that same smile that brought girls to their knees including you. “Thank you again, really.” Gently patting the side of your arm as he spoke before slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out. “Y/n, get a grip.” You hiss to yourself as you finish packing your things away. “You’re only tutoring him that’s it and that’s all it’ll ever be. He’s a jock and you’re just some nerd with a book addiction, you’ll tutor him and when it’s done it’ll all go back to how it was.” You let out a sigh once you finish lecturing yourself, saying it all out loud should you how absurd you were really being but it helped to ground you, it strengthened you to not expect what wasn’t going to happen and ultimately get your feeling hurt or heart broken.

“There you are.” You hear Wooyoung say as he turned the corner of the bookcase next to you making you look up from the textbook you were flicking through. “I’ve been looking all over the place for you, why are you hiding in the back?”

“I usually sit here and I thought it would be a good spot for tutoring, away from other people.” Wooyoung raises an eyebrow at your reason obviously taking it a different way than what you originally intended. “No offence Wooyoung, you have the attention span of a flea.” You laugh watching his face turn from cocky to lightly offended. “I do not, I’ll have you know my attention span is...Oh!” And just like that his trail of thought left him as his eye caught the poster advertising the upcoming game he was taking part in. “My point is proven.” You laugh trying to usher him back to the table, he had no choice but to shrug his shoulder in agreement, him and his attention span had been caught red handed. “I was thinking we could start with algebra if that’s okay, seeing as it’s what were working on right now.” He nodded a yes to you as he pulled his notebook from his bag and sat beside you.

You should be used to sitting next to Wooyoung, you’d been desk mates for over a year so this should be nothing new to you, but this time it’s outside of math, in your own time, time he’d decided to spend with you as you help him with math instead of hanging out with his friends. You felt your face heat up with the way he leaned in closer to look at the textbook. You scribble down explanations for Wooyoung, trying your best to shrug off your flustered state, you were just hoping he didn’t notice.

“See so you take that away from that and that gives you the answer to x.” You explain, pencil dancing across the page as you point out the steps. You’re surprised to see Wooyoung nodding along to what you were saying, his eyes fixed on the paper which you were hoping meant he was taking it in. “Do you want to try one?” This was the first test to see if he had actually been paying attention. You write down one equation for him to get started with and slide the book over to him, watching as he fiddled with his pen, brows furrowed in concentration as he went over what you said in his head. “Add this to this?” He asks wide eyed pointing to where he was and smiling with victory as you nodded to him.

It didn’t take long for Wooyoung to get the hang of it and it made you a little bit suspicious, either you were a really good tutor or he was surprisingly good at algebra, which made you wonder as to why he’d want tutoring in the first place. “You’ve gotten the hang of this now.” You cheer as you looked over his work seeing all right answers those of which he needed no help with. “Yeah, I think it just clicked in the end.” A wave of pride washed over you, it really did seem like you made a good tutor. You took a moment to flick through the text book again in an attempt to find a new challenge for him but nothing was jumping out at you, nothing looked challenging enough for him to need your help. Wooyoung looked to be in his own world as he waited for your instruction, he started to fiddle with his fingers under the desk but then his mind trailed off into it’s own fantasy land, the fiddling stopped and he seemed to forget for a second where he was, fully relaxing he set his hands down at either side of him but jumped back to reality when he felt you jump. Your face heated up again, you glance down and see his hand placed on your thigh, following your eyes he looks to where you were looking and realises what he’s done. “Shit, sorry.” He says quickly pulling his hand away putting it back in his own lap. “I was in my own world, I didn’t realise.” There he went again rambling which actually helped the tension you could feel building. You shrugged it off acting like you weren’t bothered all the while you tried your hardest to stop your face matching the shade of a tomato. “I um...” You cleared your throat before speaking again. “I’m gonna go find a trigonometry textbook, well start that next.” You hurriedly got up from your seat and disappeared behind a bookcase.

Wooyoung didn’t feel right just sitting there waiting for you, not after what he did, so he went looking for you. It would have taken him longer to discover your whereabouts if it wasn’t for the small noise he could hear you making on the other side of the bookcase. Turning the corner his eyes were met with you straining on your tip toes trying to reach the textbook you needed but to no avail, your fingertips only lightly grazing the spine. You huff out in defeat as you look up at the book that was so close yet so far, you go to reach for it again but a hand on your waist stops you from moving, freezing you on the spot as you feel your skin prickle at the contact, it only gets worse when you feel something press against your back. You look up slightly to see Wooyoung’s arm reaching up for the book and bringing it down to you as he lightly chuckled in your ear. That sound, it was enough to make you melt, your breathing picked up a little but hopefully not enough to catch his attention. “Here you go.” Wooyoung chimes placing the book in your hands, it was like the close proximity was normal to him, the way he had his hand on your waist and the whole front half of his body pressed against your back, none of it bothered him. After giving you the book he made no attempt to move away from you, if anything it felt like he was trying to hold you closer than you already were. “T...Thanks.” You stutter trying to come back to reality. “So trig.” You say looking for an excuse to move but his hand tightening on you waist stopped you from going anywhere. “I think we both know I didn’t need tutoring.” Wooyoung whispered in your ear sending shivers down your spine, but that wasn’t where your attention was as stupid, as it was you were more interested in what he said. “What?”

“Y/n I asked you to tutor me because I wanted to spend time with you...alone. This was the only way I could think to do it.” You turn to face him, the space between you staying the same which made you crane your neck slightly to look at him. “I thought you got the hang of it a bit quick.” You tried to make your tone come off as less shaky despite the fact you were ready to explode after the closeness and the confession. Wooyoung leaned down to look over your face, your cheeks a little pink but the shade surely growing darker the closer he got. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how flustered you’ve been this whole time.” He smirks as your eyes widen knowing you’d been caught. “I do so much as glance your way and your squirming in your seat and my hand on your thigh was the icing on the cake.” This was all part of his plan and as much as you wanted to be mad at yourself for not seeing it sooner you couldn’t, there was no way of you knowing, like you said to yourself earlier, he’s a jock and you’re a bookworm the odds of him giving you this type of attention was excruciatingly thin.

The lack of response from you was spurring him on, he could see you were getting more flustered by the second so he decided to put you out of your misery. Closing the gap he captured your lips in a kiss, but contrary to what you’d imagined a kiss with Wooyoung would be like this was far from sweet, the kiss was flowing with what you could only guess was pent up feelings? Frustration? You didn’t go with it straight away, the way his lips were suddenly on yours made your brain short circuit but once you came around you returned his action with the same energy. You knew this way Wooyoung probably being your typical jock, only looking to get his dick wet, but honestly you couldn’t give a shit right now, that was something future you had to worry about, present you was going to enjoy herself.

Wooyoung’s grip on your waist shifted to your hips as he backed you against the bookcase, hips lightly grinding against you making you whimper into the kiss. That was a green light to Wooyoung, his hand trailing its way up the inside of your thigh and under your skirt playing with the hem of your underwear. “Wooyoung.” You pull away from the kiss panting. The look in his eye made you want to drop the whole thing and let him carry on but you owed it to yourself to at least say what you needed to say. “We’re in public, someone could see us.” the danger of getting caught was turning him on even more, a smirk plastering his face as he looked at you. “Then I’ll be quick.” And with that his lips were back on yours, you made no attempt to stop him, his finger ghosting over your clothed slit making you give in even more. There was no doubt you were soaked through already and with the way Wooyoung smirked against your lips you could tell he’d noticed.

Nudging the side of your feet with his foot you opened your legs a little wider for him, giving him enough access to move your underwear to the side. Your breath hitched when you felt his finger move along your slit, gathering your wetness almost like he was playing. “You’re soaked for me.” His words went straight to your core and made your stomach do flips. Wooyoung pulled away from the kiss slowly while at the same time applying pressure to your clit with his finger, he wanted to see how you reacted to his touch and he wasn’t disappointed, the moment he applied pleasure you bit your lip in an attempt to hold back any sound threatening to escape and your eyes fluttered shut as you took in every small movement he made.

Keeping quiet soon became the most difficult thing you had to do once Wooyoung started drawing circles over your clit, with each shudder or whimper you made he’d pick up the pace, it was like he was trying to break you, break you to the point you cry out and let everyone in the library know what he was doing to you. You tangle your fingers in Wooyoung’s hair as he leans down placing wet kisses along your neck, nipping every now and again enjoying the way your body tenses with each small bite.

His fingers working quickly on your clit you could feel the knot start to build. Your legs started to lose their strength and you were thankful Wooyoung had you pinned to the bookcase which was stopping you from dropping to the floor. Dipping two fingers into you, you let out a sudden gasp which you tried to cover with your hand but it was too late. “Shh, you’ll have to keep quiet if you don’t want us to get caught.” The thrill of it all made the knot grow tighter and your walls flutter around his fingers, as much as you’d hate to admit it, knowing you might get caught excited you in ways you never could have imagined. “Dirty girl.” Wooyoung smirks against your neck. “The thought of getting caught is turning you on that much huh? Want everyone to know how much of a mess you've become only from my fingers " A moan leaves you, muffled by your hand as your knees start to give way underneath you, the knot in your stomach was so close to snapping it left you shaking in his hold.

Wooyoung curled his fingers with each thrust, making sure to hit the spot that made you see stars and from there you knew you were done. It only took a few more thrusts like that and you came undone, grabbing Wooyoung by his hair pulling him into a kiss so he could swallow the moans that were leaving you uncontrollably and by no means was Wooyoung fighting back, he savoured every moment he had left, the way your body trembled as he worked you through your high, the way your walls clenched around his finger, the way you desperately held his face to yours in an attempt to stay as quiet as possible, all of it was something he could get addicted to and he was pretty sure he was there already.

Pulling out from your heat, he took a second to admire the mess you'd left coating his hand before cleaning himself off with his tongue as you watched awestruck. "Taste so good." He hummed wrapping his lips around a finger sucking it clean. If your legs weren't so weak you'd have jumped on him there and then. The bell rang again, lunch was over, you fix yourself up, getting ready to grab your things when you felt Wooyoung’s hand wrap around your wrist. "I think I need more tutoring, do you think you could help me." Wooyoung winked shooting you a smirk you knew meant trouble. "And what type of tutoring would that be?" A cocky tone taking over you as you decided to play along with him liking where this might be leading. "Well it won't be math that's for sure."

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