#orbit outline

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

#slay the princess #interactive fiction #character design

[todays-xkcd]

Actually, the fact that Mars is still orbiting safely over here means that it was technically an *Euler* apocalypse, not a Venn one.

Earth/Venus Venn Diagram [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

Title: Earth/Venus Venn Diagram.

[A venn diagram with the left circle labelled "Earth", the right circle labelled "Venus", and the center (outlined in dotted lines) labelled "shockwaves and production of impact ejecta".]

#xkcd #xkcd 2903 #earth/venus venn diagram #webcomics #venn diagrams #astronomy

[acorviart]

mr sandman man me a sand

[ID: Illustration of Dream from The Sandman, drawn in a flat, simplified profile on a black background. His skin is solid white, while his hair, coat, and other details are outlined in white. A raven sits on his shoulder, also drawn in white outline. His coat depicts a starry night sky, with a moon and various planetary orbits. A disconnected hand holds a pile of sand that falls between the fingers.]

#the sandman #dream of the endless #sandman #acorviart

[01zfan]

baby sugar daddy | j. sc

sd!sungchan x older!fem. reader | 4.3k words

the anon who requested a fic about sungchan and an older reader he’s obsessed with i wasn’t familiar with your game. seeing him sing replay to lee hyori woke something up inside of me. i added a little twist with making him your sugar daddy heh

contains: sugar daddy sungchan, reader is antons older sister, dry humping, sub sungchan, sungchan is a little freak and is obsessed with the reader

sungchan remembers the first time he met you. it was like a dream or a the reomantic part in a show where everything slows down. you wore a beautiful dress and had a smile that lit up the room. 

you were holding the cake for his bestfriend; your little brother. you were in the kitchen all day making everything by hand. sungchan remembers anton explaining to him that although he wasn’t a child anymore, it was a tradition you couldn’t give up. it had also become a big deal because you let anton move in with you while he studied at college. living with you helped anton spread his wings, not having to worry about his parents disapproving of anything. so sungchan had already known of your caring personality. but when he saw your face, he didn’t stand a chance against you.

at first, sungchan thought he was good at hiding it. he would come over a little earlier than his friend just in hopes of catching a glance of you. it was hard getting you alone. anton had talked about where you were at in life, the busy hectic schedule of post-grad while sungchan had barely started college. 

he would be studying for a final with anton and get a glance at you through a door opened a little too wide. he thought his glances were subtle, but they slowly turned to stares as he took the time to remember every part of you, what headphones you liked to wear, what shows you liked to watch, and what music you listened to. each time his eyes met yours he would look away and clear his throat. something about you was so mature and put together, it was something sungchan couldn’t pinpoint. your confidence had become an aura, permanently etched into your body like a tattoo. even if sungchan happened to catch you stumbling through the house early mornings in your pajamas you still seemed poised. 

sungchan liked how mature you were, how sure of yourself you were. how you took care of yourself and dressed perfectly. how you pranced around in shorts and a camisole. it was awful because sungchan knew you didn’t mean to be a tease, you were just wearing what was comfortable around your apartment. but the way your soft skin was visible, the outline of your breasts peaking through the shirt. how you called him a “good boy” after hearing he aced his final. you were never embarrassed to let sungchan see you at any part of the day. sungchan on the other hand had to make sure he was wearing his best clothes when he went over to his friend’s house.

“why are you dressed nice?” anton would ask him curiously. 

sungchan had to pretend like he didn’t know what his friend was talking about each time the question was asked. sungchan had to act cool when you passed by him, when you offered to get him or antonie food while you were out. you still managed to be a caring older sister to your brother while being cute in your own way. sungchan found himself wanting to be on the receiving end of a precious nickname. sungchan wasn’t good at hiding anything.

because of your confidence, sungchan was caught off guard when he saw the overdue bill on your counter. he blamed his nosiness, snooping around while anton was getting ready to go out. sungchan was meandering around your kitchen like a planet in orbit. he saw the bill tucked underneath your laptop on the counter. he looked around, making sure he was alone in the kitchen.

sungchan slowly picked up your laptop to free the bill. he saw the outstanding amount, other things in red ink that told you what the consequences would be if you didn’t pay. sungchan was so confused. if anton knew you struggled to pay the bills he kept it to himself, never indicating that you were struggling in any way. anton never hesitated to ask you for pocket money on his way out, and you never hesitated to give it to him. if anton knew you were struggling, he wouldn’t have asked. he knew who anton was, he would’ve put everything in his life on hold to get a job to help you pay the bills.

sungchan was thinking so hard that he didn’t notice you come into the kitchen.

“what are you doing?” you asked.

sungchan whipped around so fast to look at you he almost knocked himself off balance. this was the first time you addressed him in this manner. you sounded indignant, rightfully upset about your privacy being invaded.

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have looked.” sungchan apologized immediately as you made your way to your laptop. 

still composed, you took the bill and closed it in the screen of your laptop. it wasn’t in view at all. you kept your eyes trained on a sticker that embellished your plastic case. you were both silent for a moment. sungchan was terrified at the thought of you snapping at him, saying you were disappointed in him for snooping. he figured he should leave. as sungchan was about to leave you spoke quietly.

“did anton see?” you said.

“no. he went straight to his room to get ready once we got here.”

like a switch had flipped, the same signature smile appeared across your face. you were the same bubbly older sister that anton talked about in such high regard.

“that’s a relief. i don’t want him to be worried over nothing.” you said.

you grabbed your laptop and started heading towards your room. sungchan couldn’t stop himself from following you out of the kitchen.

“bills aren’t nothing,” sungchan said. he didn’t realize how loud his voice was under you looked at him with wide eyes. sungchan immediately changed his voice level, clearing his throat. “it said that your power could be shut off.” he whispered.

“sungchan, it’s okay. i always figure it out.” you continue to walk into your bedroom. sungchan doesn’t follow you all the way inside, staying in the doorframe.

“this happens often? i thought you had a job?” sungchan asks.

sungchan is very confused by your situation. he thought that you had a well paying job like anton had described a million times before. he never saw you go out or go shopping because he thought you were saving money. he had no idea you were barely scraping by.

“well i’m in between jobs,” you admit quietly. “please don’t tell anton.”

for the first time sungchan saw worry flash across your eyes. you looked worried, as if you were in denial too about your situation. everything became so real so quickly it almost knocked you off your feet.

sungchan could hear anton turn off the shower. he didn’t have much time until anton was walking around the apartment, looking for sungchan. he was aware his time with you was running through his fingers, he had to think of something quick. you still stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“i can help you.” sungchan said quickly.

you looked at sungchan again wide eyed and speechless.

“w-what?” you asked.

sungchan was relieved you didn’t slice off his head then and there for assuming you needed help. he didn’t want to offer his help in a demeaning way, implying you can’t make it. he didn’t doubt that you had a plan, or that the moment you get a job again you’ll be all set. sungchan wanted to offer his help under his belief that no one as beautiful and kind as you should ever struggle. 

“i can pay for all your bills,” sungchan said. before you could open your mouth to reject him he kept going. “i can pay for anything you need me to. i don’t mind.”

sungchan was realistic, he knew he couldn’t take all your pain away. but taking care of the material things like clothes, rent, and fancy food was the least sungchan could do for you. it was no secret that sungchan was well off. he had the type of money that was from generations before him. he wasn’t too sure of the lore, but sungchan was positive that it was all about dumb luck and cashing out at the right time. that’s how it usually was. he drove a fancy car and never had to check his bank account when going out. his bills were taken care of, and sungchan wasn’t much of a spender to begin with. he didn’t know what you were like with money either, but sungchan found himself not caring if you used his very last cent. 

“sungchan i can’t use your money with a clear conscious. you’re my brothers friend.” you say.

“anton doesn’t have to know.” sungchan pleads. 

“you’re younger than me.” you say, ashamed. 

“that doesn’t matter. it’s the least i can do. i see the way you take care of anton. you deserve to be taken care of too.”

for a second, sungchan can see you thinking about it. when your face suddenly lights up, sungchan is expecting to hear a yes. instead, you look past sungchan at someone standing behind him.

“tonie! your outfit looks so cute!” you say.

you pass by sungchan to pinch antons’ cheeks. sungchan can’t help but smile seeing anton pull away from you, bashful that you’re doting on him in front of his friend. he was so embarrassed it that he didn’t ask when sungchan was almost in your room, or what you guys were possibly talking about.

“stop please.” anton said it in his signature soft voice with a smile on his face.

“where are you two going?” you asked. 

sungchan was amazed at how you carried on, as if he wasn’t practically on his knees begging you to take his money.

“we are going to the movies and then meeting up with some friends at a party.” anton said.

“are these friends i know?” you asked. 

sungchan found himself looking down and kicking his feet at you being a protective older sister. you had your hands on your hips, with a raised eyebrow. you technically couldn’t stop anton from going out, he was an adult. but he listened to you and answered your questions like a good little brother does. anton playfully rolled his eyes as you pestered him with questions about his plans for the night.

“yes you know them. it’s the guys from school. and it’s a birthday party for my other friend.” anton says.

“which friend?” you ask.

anton audibly groaned and you laughed at him.

“i’m just messing with you anton. you two have fun.” you say.

sungchan turns his heel to leave but anton stays in the same place. sungchan knows anton is about to ask you for money by the way he playfully hits your arm and smiles. now it’s your turn to roll your eyes as you grab your wallet from your room. you pull out two twenty dollar bills and give it to anton. he smiles, bringing you into a big hug.

“thanks big sis.” anton says smiling.

you groan and jokingly push him off of you.

anton follows behind sungchan towards the door and you shoo them out of the house. sungchan can’t get a final look at you when you close the door behind anton. 

when sungchan and anton make it to the car, anton puts the money in his pocket. sungchan looks at his friend, thinking about the unknown stress he puts on you. sungchan tries to push it out of his mind, turning the keys. you are grown, you got it under control. 

he doesn’t even make it halfway out the driveway before he’s putting his car in park. sungchan can’t bring himself to answer anton’s question on where he’s going and why he is leaving the keys in the ignition. sungchan is focused on more important things, moving up the stairs two at a time. he’s at the door in an instant, opening it to see you still standing in the same place.

wordlessly sungchan takes his black card out of his wallet and grabs your hand at your side. he’s lightheaded that this is the first time he’s touched you and he gets to touch your small soft hand that fits in his perfectly. he doesn’t get too much time to revel in the fact he gets to touch you, this mission is supposed to be fast and quick. sungchan turns your palm is upright and puts his card right in your hand. wordlessly he closes your fingers around the metal card, letting his large hand clasp over yours in emphasis. sungchan nods and smiles to your shocked expression, urging you it’s alright. 

just as fast as sungchan came inside he was back out, stepping down the stairs casually. he goes back to the car and gets inside with a smile on his face. he smiles even when anton asked what he went inside for.

“i just forgot something.” sungchan says, putting the car back in drive.

he has never been like this before, begging someone to use his money. it was thrilling and sungchan couldn’t stop imagining how fulfilling it would be to see you enjoy his wealth. it made him extremely happy, he couldn’t stop smiling at his phone seeing the notifications of his card being used. the more money you drained from the card the happier he got. he imagined you smiling as you paid all your bills, if you took a look at all the clothing sites you never had the chance to buy things off of. it was intoxicating and sungchan was glued to his phone the whole night. if you hated asking for money he would slip it under your pillow like the tooth fairy. sungchan made up his mind then and there that he was going to give you anything you wanted.

you helped sungchan set up the ground rules. they were put in place by you not him. his attitude towards money was alarming to say the least. he didn’t seem to care how much of his money you used or how you used it. he didn’t want anything in return either. he just smiled and nodded listening to your every word and reading everything you wrote. you saw the words on the paper as rules but sungchan read them like it was a love letter written directly to him. he saw it as a testament to your self control and caring nature for others. you didn’t know but that night sungchan put your name on the card as well. it was all yours. anything you wanted was yours.

it had also started out innocent, but turned into something more. it started when sungchan started thinking about you enjoying asking for him money. if he begged you enough would you come up to him with your hand out and an annoyed look on your face. he wanted to hand you cash and have you tell him it’s not enough, being mean to him and asking for more. it made sungchan fall to his knees thinking about you reprimanding him for not coughing up enough cash. he didn’t know what came over him when his hands went into his pants that night. he came over his knuckles at the thought of trailing behind you holding your shopping bags of all the designer stores, calling him a “good boy” each time he swiped his card.

something changed in you too. you found yourself compelled to ask anton where his friend was more, if he would be coming over. sungchan would never be the type to ask you for actual “sugar” in exchange for the money. it was an odd arrangement, but it was one that excited you nonetheless. despite sungchan financially supporting you, he was obedient to you the same way a puppy was. he hung off your every command, driven by praise and the thought of making you feel good. you wanted to give him something, a little treat for all the clothes you have been able to buy and fancy dinners you attended recently. 

so when sungchan would come by, you would wear something for him. it wasn’t over the top, something subtle. it would be something simple like not wearing a bra or wearing tights with a shirt that didn’t cover your ass. it was exciting, almost like sneaking around. sungchan was so shy, hesitant glances at you. you knew he was wondering if you were doing it on purpose, showing him what he could touch if he only asked you. you were becoming impatient, thinking that he didn’t want you. you were thinking this while sungchan lost himself every night. he was thinking of you in bed under your new high end sheets while you touched yourself. he had it so bad, thinking he’s never get a chance to relieve that pressure that built up in him every night.

it all came to a head when anton called him. sungchan answered on the first ring like he always did.

“are you busy?” anton asked over the line. “i need you to drop off this thing at my sister’s place.”

sungchan suddenly had a completely clear schedule. before he knew it he was meeting anton in between his classes and going to your place. anton had been able to pick up food you wanted, but his busy work day and hours of the place made it nearly impossible. you could’ve driven of course, but you simply didn’t feel like it. lucky for you, sungchan was more than willing to be your errand boy. sungchan made his way from campus to you, arriving in time for the food to still be hot.

you answered the door knowing who it would be on the other side. you planned out everything so anton would still be at school and you could be alone with sungchan. you answered the door in designer shirt and jeans, courtesy of the black card that still sat in your wallet. you grabbed sungchan by the hand, your second time ever touching him to pull him inside.

“i got you the food.” sungchan said, holding up your bag. 

you took it and placed it on the counter. you don’t think sungchan would’ve moved from that spot if you didn’t grab him by the hand and lead him to your bedroom. he was stiff as a board when you closed your door behind him. 

this was his first time fully in your room, just the two of you. stolen peaks inside couldn’t compare to seeing your room laid out before him. all of your trinkets and furniture came together. it was all you and sungchan was surrounded by it. your smell, your plushies, everything was in here. sungchans stomach was doing flips when you touched his face. blush creeped across his cheeks as he looked down at you.

“you’re such a cutie.” you said with a smile on your face. 

sungchan couldn’t stop his shy smile from taking over all of his features. he thought he had reached the height and age where no one would ever call him cute ever again. but here you were, calling him cute in the same tone that you would coo at a puppy. sungchan’s pants were starting to become uncomfortable as his dick strained against the fabric. he prayed you wouldn’t look down and see how easily he was turned on by the praise.

“are you this sweet to all your friend’s older sisters?” you asked, tracing over sungchan’s collar. sungchan shook his head.

“only you.” he said.

“good boy.” you patted his cheek before walking away. 

sungchan watched your every move. you sat on the edge of your bed and patted the space next to you. as sungchan walked over to you he could see your eyes flicker from his face to his crotch. a different smile adorned your face and sungchan slowly stalked over to you. everything about you had him on head over heels. even in this tension he could feel how warm and caring you were, extending something that had to be love towards him. 

sungchan sat next to you and you started toying with the collar of his shirt again. you hands grazed over his neck and collarbone, tracing the bone that jutted out. sungchan had to close his eyes and bring in a shaky breath to calm his nerves.

“just relax. i got you ‘channie” you whispered. 

you were in his ear now, the words knocking around in his brain like an echo chamber. your voice was sweet like candy but his new nickname came from your lips sounding like a taunt. it made him strain in his pants. he could see himself twitch against the tight fabric of his slacks. the sitting position didn’t help, making the fabric even tighter against his dick. if you talked to him enough in that same tone he would end up cumming in his pants untouched. 

your hand trailed from his neck down to his abdomen. each button you came across on his dress shirt was expertly undone with one hand. sungchan could barely undo the buttons with both hands. you rubbed his exposed stomach as you continued to whisper in his ear.

“how do you want it?”

sungchan couldn’t think properly. he looked down from the ceiling at you next to him. he saw your clothes he hadn’t seen before and how good you looked in them.

“are those new?” sungchan asked. 

he runs a timid hand along your side touching both your shirt and pants. he tried to keep a level head and calm voice as your hand sunk lower to his slacks.

“yep. you like them?” 

in response, sungchan gets off the bed to kneel in front of you. he runs both his hands up and down your legs. you let yourself lean back on the bed, arms behind you keeping you propped up. you look at sungchan below you as he does his thing. he brings hands past your knees to your thighs. he’s not hesitant anymore, moving at a frenzied speed to feel you. he’s rests his head on your knee as he continues to touch you, eyes closed contently. you let out a breathy moan to let him know you’re right there with him.

sungchan looks up at you from your knee. he places a kiss over it. he continues to place slow kisses leading up your thigh. he’s looking at your reaction, needing validation to continue. you to bite your lip and he continues working his way up. butterfly kisses rest over the expensive denim until he reaches your center. you expect a kiss, or a hand to come to your zipper. you did not expect sungchan to stick his nose in your crotch and smell you. 

he inhales deeply into your heat with tiny exhales. it’s like he’s trying to remember your sent, or that it drives him sexually. you gasp several times as he continues to do it. chivalrous sungchan was acting like a pervert, getting off on smelling your heat. it was intoxicating watching him behave the way he was, so different from the sungchan you usually see.

“such a sweet little freak.” you whispered as he continued to inhale you. 

sungchan moaned at your degradation that sounded like a scolding. he took your leg and slotted it in between his. he brought his clothed dick close until he felt you. when his dick made contact with your leg he slowly dragged it up. he was a mess just at the indirect contact, whining about needing more friction.

sungchan leaned forward until his head was resting on your stomach. he was so tall even in his crouching position he was eye level with your breasts if he didn’t slouch. his current position he could feel your boobs resting on his head. he nestled more into your warmth and he continued to rut desperately into your leg.

“are you gonna ruin my new clothes?” you said. 

your voice was borderline reprimanding and sungchan could feel the vibration of your voice ring through your whole body. it wrapped around him the same way a hug did. a hand that was gripping the edge of the bed moved behind your calf. he repositioned your leg so he could grind on it with more ease. he moaned and bit his lip, going further into you.

“i’ll buy you more,” the way he ground against your leg that particular time made him choke on his sentence. “i’ll buy you anything you want.” sungchan moaned.

he found a way to hit that particular angle again. he was trapped in the motion of rutting against your calf, clutching your leg desperately. he was close, he needs to tell you how close he was. you wrap your arms around him, bringing comforting and gentle fingers to his scalp. you kissed the crown of his head.

“good boy.” you whispered into his hair.

sungchan didn’t have time to warn you. he came in his pants whimpering pathetically into your stomach. his ruts were desperate and he wanted to stop, but his hips were moving on their own accord. they stuttered and then halted, stuck as he emptied himself into his slacks. his little whimpers didn’t stop until it turned to borderline cries and as thrusted his hips a few final times. he slumped against your leg, spent from months of finally releasing all that pressure. you rubbed his cheeks and back the whole time he was coming down, trying to ground him. your ministrations didn’t help calm his racing heart when the shame of what he just did set in. the wave of euphoria had washed away and he was mortified of how pathetic he must’ve looked, humping your leg like a dog. he also drooled all over your shirt and wrinkled the fabric. cum had seeped through his slacks and he got it on your fancy jeans. he looked up at you in horror expecting to be degraded but you looked at him with tenderness. you patted his head and helped him up, leading him to the bed as you told him it’s your turn.

#requestz #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

[celepom]

It’s Pride 2023! Time to put up some more comic recs!

This time I’ve put together some stories about discovering one’s own queer identity, outlining a family history of queerness, and several stories where being queer isn’t the focus - queer characters are simply allowed to be.

Belle of the Ball By Mari Costa

High-school senior and notorious wallflower Hawkins finally works up the courage to remove her mascot mask and ask out her longtime crush: Regina Moreno, head cheerleader, academic overachiever, and all-around popular girl. There’s only one teensy little problem: Regina is already dating Chloe Kitagawa, athletic all-star…and middling English student. Regina sees a perfectly self-serving opportunity here, and asks the smitten Hawkins to tutor Chloe free of charge, knowing Hawkins will do anything to get closer to her. And while Regina’s plan works at first, she doesn’t realize that Hawkins and Chloe knew each other as kids, when Hawkins went by Belle and wore princess dresses to school every single day. Before long, romance does start to blossom…but not between who you might expect. With Belle of the Ball, cartoonist Mariana Costa has reinvigorated satisfying, reliable tropes into your new favorite teen romantic comedy.

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The Moth Keeper By Kay O’Neill

Anya is finally a Moth Keeper, the protector of the lunar moths that allow the Night-Lily flower to bloom once a year. Her village needs the flower to continue thriving and Anya is excited to prove her worth and show her thanks to her friends with her actions, but what happens when being a Moth Keeper isn't exactly what Anya thought it would be? The nights are cold in the desert and the lunar moths live far from the village. Anya finds herself isolated and lonely. Despite Anya's dedication, she wonders what it would be like to live in the sun. Her thoughts turn into an obsession, and when Anya takes a chance to stay up during the day to feel the sun's warmth, her village and the lunar moths are left to deal with the consequences.

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Hollow By Shannon Watters, Branden Boyer-White & Berenice Nelle

Isabel "Izzy" Crane and her family have just relocated to Sleepy Hollow, the town made famous by—and obsessed with—Washington Irving's legend of the Headless Horseman. But city slicker-skeptic Izzy has no time for superstition as she navigates life at a new address, a new school, and, with any luck, with new friends. Ghost stories aren't real, after all.... Then Izzy is pulled into the orbit of the town's teen royalty, Vicky Van Tassel (yes, that Van Tassel) and loveable varsity-level prankster Croc Byun. Vicky's weariness with her family connection to the legend turns to terror when the trio begins to be haunted by the Horseman himself, uncovering a curse set on destroying the Van Tassel line. Now, they have only until Halloween night to break it—meaning it's a totally inconvenient time for Izzy to develop a massive crush on the enigmatic Vicky. Can Izzy's practical nature help her face the unknown—or only trip her up? As the calendar runs down to the 31st, Izzy will have to use all of her wits and work with her new friends to save Vicky and uncover the mystery of the legendary Horseman of Sleepy Hollow—before it's too late. 

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Until I Meet my Husband By Ryousuke Nanasaki & Yoshi Tsukizuki

The memoir of gay activist Ryousuke Nanasaki and the first religiously recognized same-sex marriage in Japan. From school crushes to awkward dating sites to finding a community, this collection of stories recounts the author’s “firsts” as a young gay man searching for love. Dating is never ever easy, but that goes doubly so for Ryousuke, whose journey is full of unrequited loves and many speed bumps. But perseverance and time heals all wounds, even those of the heart.

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Is Love the Answer? By Uta Isaki

When it comes to love, high schooler Chika wonders if she might be an alien. She’s never fallen for or even had a crush on anyone, and she has no desire for physical intimacy. Her friends tell her that she just "hasn't met the one yet," but Chika has doubts... It's only when Chika enters college and meets peers like herself that she realizes there’s a word for what she feels inside--asexual--and she’s not the only one. After years of wondering if love was the answer, Chika realizes that the answer she long sought may not exist at all--and that that's perfectly normal.

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M Is for Monster By Talia Dutton

When Doctor Frances Ai's younger sister Maura died in a tragic accident six months ago, Frances swore she would bring her back to life. However, the creature that rises from the slab is clearly not Maura. This girl, who chooses the name "M," doesn't remember anything about Maura's life and just wants to be her own person. However, Frances expects M to pursue the same path that Maura had been on—applying to college to become a scientist—and continue the plans she and Maura shared. Hoping to trigger Maura's memories, Frances surrounds M with the trappings of Maura's past, but M wants nothing to do with Frances' attempts to change her into something she's not. In order to face the future, both Frances and M need to learn to listen and let go of Maura once and for all. Talia Dutton's debut graphic novel, M Is for Monster, takes a hard look at what it means to live up to other people's expectations—as well as our own.

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Golden Sparkle By Minta Suzumaru

Himaru Uehara’s first year of high school is off to a good start, minus one problem—he keeps having wet dreams. With only his mom and sister at home—and having skipped health class in middle school—he thinks it means there’s something wrong with him. Thankfully, a new friend has just the remedy and teaches Himaru exactly how to deal with those pesky dreams! But his solution only leads to more confusion, and the two find themselves navigating feelings they’ve never felt before.

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Thieves By Lucie Bryon

Ella can’t seem to remember a single thing from the party the night before at a mysterious stranger’s mansion, and she sure as heck doesn’t know why she’s woken up in her bed surrounded by a magpie’s nest of objects that aren’t her own. And she can’t stop thinking about her huge crush on Madeleine, who she definitely can’t tell about her sudden penchant for kleptomania… But does Maddy have secrets of her own? Can they piece together that night between them and fix the mess of their chaotic personal lives in time to form a normal, teenage relationship? That would be nice.

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Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic By Alison Bechdel

Meet Alison's father, a historic preservation expert and obsessive restorer of the family's Victorian home, a third-generation funeral home director, a high school English teacher, an icily distant parent, and a closeted homosexual who, as it turns out, is involved with his male students and a family babysitter. Through narrative that is alternately heartbreaking and fiercely funny, we are drawn into a daughter's complex yearning for her father. And yet, apart from assigned stints dusting caskets at the family-owned "fun home," as Alison and her brothers call it, the relationship achieves its most intimate expression through the shared code of books. When Alison comes out as homosexual herself in late adolescense, the denouement is swift, graphic -- and redemptive.

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She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat By Sakaomi Yuzaki

Cooking is how Nomoto de-stresses, but one day, she finds herself making way more than she can eat by herself. And so, she invites her neighbor Kasuga, who also lives alone. What will come out of this impromptu dinner invitation...?

Kasuga and Nomoto promised to spend their Christmas and New Year’s together. Now, they find themselves learning more about each other’s families through the food sent by Nomoto’s mother. Cute character bento, salmon and rice, stollen, fruit sandwiches, roast beef…Nomoto and Kasuga warm up to each other over a cheerful holiday season.  

#Pride 2023 #book rec #comic #graphic novel #autobio #fantasy #science fiction #high school #queer #lesbian #gay #asexual #intersex #bisexual #romance #book recs #pride #LGBTQIA #LGBT comic

[bettyfrommars]

In the Closet

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

🚨18+ Only, MDNI, smut, oneshot, forced proximity, enemies to lovers, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (m receiving), cum shot, mention of alcohol consumption, smoking weed, semi-public sex, cum rag. Word count: 2k

You were invited to a surprise party for Steve Harrington, but so was Eddie Munson, and you really cannot stand him. But when you're forced to hide in a closet together, your resolve is tested.

A/N: I've been working on an Eddie series where the smut has not been introduced yet, and I needed to get my fix.

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

It’s 1989 and there’s a surprise birthday party for Steve at the house he shares with Robin. You were invited, but so was Eddie “the freak” Munson, and just the thought of having to be in his orbit made you want to retract your RSVP. You’d been friends with Robin a while, and every time Eddie came to visit, he always reeked of weed and cigarettes, and he insisted on calling you Princess, even though you clearly hated the nickname. He was abrupt and juvenile, and god, did he even have a job besides selling drugs? And the music he listened to? You accidentally heard a W.A.S.P. song once months ago, and you were still upset about it.

His van was one of the last cars to pull up and park behind the garage, out of sight, and you went into the other room to mingle, hoping he wouldn’t approach you but still, he caught your eye across the room, lifting a can of beer can in greeting, a cigarette pressed between his lips. “Heyyyy Princess,” he beamed, as if he was mocking the fact that you were repulsed by him.

You headed down the hallway to use the bathroom, and once you washed your hands and were on the way back, Eddie Munson was there blocking your path. He pushed off the wall, a freshly lit joint in his hand, and extended it to you.

“You look like you need to relax.” His chest rose and he kicked his chin up so that the smoke from his lips would go over your head instead of in your face, a slight cough choking in his throat.

You grimaced and made a scene of waving the skunk smoke away with your hand. “I’m plenty relaxed, thank you,” you told him, but mostly it was to convince yourself. Eddie maintained eye contact with you as he put the cherry of the joint out on his palm and slipped the joint in his front pocket of his vest, as if he had only lit it for you.

But then the music in the living room cut out and Robin hissed, “shit! He’s early! Everyone hide!”

Crap.

You could hear Steve’s keys jangling in the front door as everyone found hiding places in the living room, and kitchen, but you were stuck in the hallway with Heady Eddie, and you were about to give the whole thing away because Steve was seconds from stepping into the hallway.

“In here!” You whispered through gritted teeth at Eddie, grabbing the back of his denim battle vest as he stood with a bewildered look on his face.

You whisked him into the small closet with you, pulling the door closed with the cautious precision someone would use to disarm a bomb.

Thank god Steve and Robin had just recently moved into this new house because the tiny closet only had three hanging shirts and two jackets in it. You could feel Steve’s footsteps clap down the hall, he stopped right in front of the closet and called Robin’s name, and you held your breath. The space you were trapped in was longer than it was deep and at first you didn’t realize you were pressing your back up against Eddie, and he was starting to like it.

“How long should we---” Eddie breathed in your ear, but your nerves were on edge, and you spun around, using the palms of your hands to pin his shoulders to the back wall of the closet.

“Shut up, Munson,” you hissed. It was dark in that confined space, and you could only see the outline of each other’s faces, but your lips were barely inches apart, your legs straddling his, and then his fingers started curling at your sides, pulling you closer, and your pussy started to blossom in ways you didn’t understand.

You gasped, “oh shit…” just before your mouth crashed onto his, teeth hitting first in your urgency, and then eager tongues searching deep. His hair fell into your face and smoothed it back behind his ear, your mouth never leaving his. You didn’t know what was happening; you were possessed. “Can I touch you?” Eddie whispered, aching to put his hand between your legs. You nodded, just as your hand slid down to palm his growing cock through his denim. You untucked his shirt from his jeans so that your hands could be on the warm skin of his stomach and his chest.

Out in the living room everyone yelled, “SURPRISE!” and jumped out from their respective hiding places, blowing party horns and turning up the music, while you and Eddie made frantic work of undoing each others belts, hands sliding down to fondle each other. Your pussy fluttered as his thick fingers curled in, bypassing your underwear to sink deep and then he moaned against your mouth, “you’re already so wet for me.”

“Shhhhh,” you said against his lips, but then you both giggled, caught off guard by the ridiculousness of it all. Eddie removed his hand from down your pants, wondering if maybe this was the cue to pull yourselves together and head out.

But you dropped to your knees, lifting up his shirt to kiss his salty stomach as you went, feeling your way around, along the map of his hair arrow, drifting down to darker waters. Eddie made a small mew sound in the back of his throat, throwing his head back with disbelief.

“Can I?” You perched there in a squat, waiting to know if he was just as caught up in the moment as you were.

“Um, yeah? Yesyesyes. You can have whatever you want, ghaaa,” he hissed, placing his hand on the top of your head so that he knew your location, feeling safer to speak as the party in the living room got louder.

You were fumbling around in such close proximity, that when you pulled Eddie’s boxers down the rest of the way, his unnervingly huge, curved cock sprang out and caught you in the face, juicing pre-cum onto your cheek.

“Sorry!” Eddie said, but then he couldn’t think about anything anymore because your soft lips were on the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking the underside ridge, your wet mouth taking him deep and making him shiver.

Eddie cursed himself for forgetting to jerk off that morning, because he was about to give you a bad impression. “I—I---do you want me to cum like that?”

You weren’t sure why, but the fact that he was already close after only minutes in the closet with you made a smile float your cheeks up, but then you were up on straight legs again, kissing him, thinking God, how could kissing Eddie Munson feel this good? His tongue was greedy and sweet and he made soft noises of pleasure when you did things that he liked. You slid your hands up over his shoulders to help him remove his jacket, and he threw it in the corner, his fingers quickly returning to arch up deep inside of you, metal rings clicking together, making you press your open mouth to his neck so that you wouldn’t cry out loud in pleasure.

Out in the rest of the house, alcohol was flowing, and all of the attention was on Steve, but a few people, especially Robin, did look around, wondering where the two of you got off to. She recalled seeing Eddie procure a freshly rolled joint as he sauntered around the corner, and she assumed the two of you were getting high somewhere. She’d never known you to do any recreational drugs before, but there was a first time for everything, and Eddie was a pretty persuasive guy.

“Inside me?” you begged against Eddie’s mouth, pushing your pants down further and pressing up against the clothing at the other end of the space, bracing on your forearms.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself, elated, holding onto your bare hips to line up with you. He ran the head of his cock down through your swollen lips, juicy and ready for him; oh god, you were so ready. He could smell the sweet tang of your arousal as it dripped down your inner thigh and you pushed your hips back to meet him, eagerly, his tip sinking in.

“Ohmygodohmygod...this is…you feel like heaven,” Eddie murmured on the wings of a sharp intake of breath, taking his time to enjoy the sensation of stretching you out, his feet planted on either side of your yours to secure you. He noticed you bring your hand down to swipe at your clit, and he sunk in all the way, aching for it as much as you were.

Soon, his hips were sawing, wet skin slapping as your two bodies connected, and you arched your head back as he buried himself deep inside, whimpering every so often and pausing suddenly as he tried not to cum too soon.

But, you were close now, working your hand between your legs, feeling the release mounting.

“EddieEddieEddie...I’m about to….” and then it happened, and the coil snapped. You trembled as your eyes rolled back, coating his cock with your cum, knees weak at the wave that overtook you. The gravity of the sneaky, impossible situation sinking you deeper into orgasm; white hot whips of a damn good, balls deep dick-down.

Eddie cursed, edging on the grip of a release that could possibly blow a hole through you, so he had to pull out with a broken cry, already missing you as his fist pumped ropes of cum onto your backside, twitching, “you feel too good baby girl.”

You felt some land as far up as your bra strap, your shirt pulled up around your neck, and he kept pumping, mining the mother load of sweet seed across your flesh. He braced his hand on the wall, his shoulders heaving, and then he patted your butt with a few tender taps, his throat dry, “goddamn, that was hot.”

The two of you didn’t exchange many words as you got dressed, but Eddie had a plain white undershirt on beneath his Metallica t-shirt, and so he used that to clean you up and wipe the cum off your back. You didn’t ask him to, he just started doing it, and you waited for him to finish, “I think I got it all,” he said, and then you pulled your pants up the rest of the way.

You were both beet red in the face when you finally opened the closet door, from exertion and from the dank stuffiness of the confined space. You went out first, and the plan was for Eddie to stay in the closet a few minutes longer, take the cum shirt back to his van, and then rejoin the party so that it wouldn’t look suspicious---so that no one would know what happened between the two of you.

You fixed your hair in the hallway and straightened your shoulders, ready to face the crowd, and deal with the apologies for disappearing on everyone like that. You took a few steps, and then your mind went to Eddie waiting in that hot closet, counting down, doing exactly what you told him to do, which was basically to save you the humiliation of letting people know you’d been with him. It had to be this way; a lot of your friends were at that party. People you knew from work and old classmates from high school who knew you as the Homecoming Princess. You couldn’t let them see you like this, with him.

You went to the end of the hallway, got Robin’s attention, and waved at her to let her know you were alive, and then made the decision to go back and wait for Eddie.

He was shocked to see you when he finally came out. His eyebrows pinched together, the cum shirt balled up in his hand. “What are are you doing here? I thought we--”

But then you stepped forward and kissed him, on the lips, gently, and took hold of his free hand, the one with all the big, metal rings, intertwining your fingers with his.

“We’ll go together,” you told him, catching the way his throat jerked at the sentiment, his eyes sparkling.

“Yeah?” He asked, unsure, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah.” You said, with the deepest sincerity.

#eddiemunson #eddiemunsononeshot #eddie munson smut #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female character #oneshot #stranger things smut #forced proximity #enimies to lovers

[peachyjinx]

smutty ask: Loki & YN having to hide in a cramped closet/narrow space to not get caught by HYDRA agents on their mission. bodies pressed together, breathing gets heavy… 😏🥵

Finally getting around to this! 😂

When in Space...

Loki x Loki x F!Reader

Drabble, 2k words

Warnings: 18+ , heavy make out session, heavy petting

You slowly walk down the entry hallway, footsteps gently padding the concrete floor below you. Loki walks past you with long strides, shaking his head.

“Our intelligence states that this station is abandoned, no need to be so cautious with your footing,” he casts a teasing smile back at you. 

“Yea, well you just…you never know…”, you feel a blush creep over your cheeks as he continues to smile while walking backwards a few feet in front of you. 

 He’s wearing his new mission suit- tight dark green leather that accents his body shape flawlessly. The perfect “V” of his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His long legs are accentuated by darker leather emphasizing his strong quads. It’s all you can do to keep from drooling.

You shake your head and try to focus on the reconnaissance mission. This is your first mission alone with Loki, and first mission in space. You had been up to the SWORD station in Earth’s orbit once, but that was just to meet the various SHIELD agents and heroes who protected Earth. 

This time it was different- an abandoned HYDRA station only recently discovered. Who knew what sort of traps lay for unsuspecting invaders. And you can’t have a weapon other than knives, which you’re not as proficient at, creating more vulnerability than normal.

Making it extra difficult, it’s just you and Loki- and you’re rarely alone with him nowadays on purpose. In this moment, there are no distractions by teammates, no quick ways for you to excuse yourself when Loki makes a joke or winks at you.  No way to hide your crush on him amidst the chaos of your lives. Just the two of you- alone on a spaceship. 

“Well, actually we do know, and you’re walking quite slow, so please increase your speed. I’d like to get to the computer chambers Rogers spoke of so we can gather our information and leave this abandoned trash heap,” Loki spoke matter of factly as he led the way, and the two of you turned left around a corner. You trot up next to him, speed walking to keep up with his strides.  

“What are you in such a rush for? Got a hot date when we get back to Earth?”, you joke sarcastically.

“Something like that,” he looks down at you and winks with a devilish smile. 

“Ah, of course you do!”, you look away and try to hide your feeling of disappointment bubbling up.  

Your mind wandered for a moment, wondering who it was this time- since he’s been on Earth he’s reveled in the attention of a variety of famous and highly desirable women. 

You feel a knot build in your stomach from thinking about his dating quests, so you take a deep breath, pushing your feelings aside. 

Focus on the mission, and not your raging crush on Loki.

You pull up your comms link on your wrist, and take a look at the map. The information is outdated and may not be accurate, but that’s part of this mission- to confirm current intelligence, and gather anything else that may be of use. 

“Ok directions say to take a left down the hall here…” you look up to see there’s only a straight corridor, and now there are panes of glass lining the right side of the hallway with a view of space. 

You stop for a minute, distracted by the beauty of the sea of stars and depths of blue and black spread before you. 

Loki slowly comes to a stop, watching your pause, and walks up to you with a bemused look. 

He stands next to you, crossing his arms and gazing out of the windows with you. You look up at his broad frame standing very close, mere inches away. The outline of his pale, sharp jawline is a stark contrast to his dark hair- much like the stars against the blackness of space. He’s just as breathtaking as the view. You look back at the expanse of the solar system, enjoying the quiet moment. 

“It really makes you feel insignificant, doesn’t it?,” you quietly ask Loki, feeling like you are in a trance from the beauty before you. The vast emptiness calling you, promising answers yet withholding them.

“Normally I would say absolutely not, but-,” he paused, shifting his body and craning his head towards the direction you had been walking in. 

Slowly, and completely silently, he walks ahead, motioning at you to stay still, bringing a long finger to his mouth to direct you to be silent while his casual demeanor turns serious. You look at him confused, but you know that something is amiss, given his shift in intensity. 

A moment feels like eternity as he stands against the wall and listens, while you stand absolutely still, trying not to breathe loudly. Quickly, he walks towards you, grabbing your wrist tightly and dragging you to the wall where he was. 

“Loki-what-”, you stammer, worry beginning to creep in as you nearly trip over yourself.

“Shh!”, he hushes you as your body is pushed into the very small closet that you didn’t realize was there. It’s a very small server room, the technology long gone but metal shelves remain. You feel his strength as he shoves you up against the metal shelving, as Loki closes the door quietly behind him. 

Loki’s hard chest pushes against your back, his body flush with yours in the tight quarters. The sound of blood and adrenaline pumping courses through your ears, and panic begins to set in. 

Loki begins reciting something in a language you don’t know, and you see green flashes in the corners of the closet.

 You wince as you move your arms to rest on the shelf, trying to get comfortable and not think about Loki’s crotch ghosting your ass. You feel a wave of heat in your core despite the dangerous situation. This is uncomfortable in more ways than one, you inwardly groan.

Loki gently reaches down to your hips, shifting himself and positioning the two of you facing each other so you aren’t up against the metal shelving. You are now facing him, your face in his chest, as he pushes his thigh between your legs and pulls you closer. Another warm flush to your crotch.

“I’ve set a silencing spell, we can talk now”, Loki assures you, as your eyes get accustomed to the near blackness of the closet. The light under the door is just enough for you to see one another and the outlines of the room. 

The two of you look in each other’s eyes, and you realize you’re panting from the exhilaration. 

“What did you hear?,” you ask while trying to not move, knowing he’d notice any slight adjustment of your hips. There isn’t any space between the two of you, and you briefly think of all the times you fantasized about grinding yourself on his muscular thigh.

“Voices. We are not alone on this vessel,” he warns while you stare into his eyes. Even in the dark of the room, you could see the piercing blue.

“Did you hear what they were saying?”, you ask, glancing away from his gaze as your mind suddenly processes all of your senses from the last few minutes at once in the dimmed space. You bask yourself in his smell- warm, with an unknown spice to it. You’ve never been close enough to smell him like this, and it’s intoxicating. 

“No, but we should take respite and come up with a plan,” Loki sighed, and you feel his breath on the top of your head, making you shiver. 

You feel sheepish, not sure what you should do. Normally your mind was sharp with strategy, but you can hardly focus with Loki’s powerful leg in between yours. It's taking every ounce of willpower not to kiss him right now. You suddenly notice that his large hand is against your back, and you feel warmth flood your core again. 

“So much for this being quick. I guess you’ll be late for your date, huh?,” you joke, immediately regretting what you said. 

“We are in a hostile situation with potential enemy combatants, but yet you are concerned about my personal life?”, he lifts your chin so your eyes meet his. A smile is on his face, but this time he doesn’t seem to be mocking you. 

“I…uh…”, you stammer, words disappearing.

Loki begins to chuckle, and you can feel it in your chest. You would gladly walk out of the closet right now to spare yourself from this embarrassing situation. 

“Oh you dear creature, jealousy does not befit you,” he cooed, beginning to run his hand up your back, gently forcing you tight against him.  

Loki leans down, gently pushing the back of your head towards his, and kisses you gently. Desperately, you push back against him, opening your mouth for his tongue, beckoning him to kiss you deeper. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, running your hand through his soft hair. 

Loki’ kisses you more intensely, as the heat between the two of you intensifies, all the worry of your situation disappearing in a moment of pure lust. You can feel his hard cock pushing through his tight leathers, and your hips begin to grind on his thigh. Loki moans as his hands grab your ass, holding you tight to him while he explores your mouth, his tongue massaging yours expertly. 

Wetness is beginning to soak your panties as your make out session heightens when he begins to gently thrust his hips, and you can feel the stimulation on your clit. The two of you are moaning and grinding on each other, neither of you resisting your basest urges.

Loki reaches for your pants, his fingers touching your zipper and you take his cue, exploring his pants for a fly to open while the two of you continue your messy kissing.

Suddenly, light bursts into the closet as the door bursts open and you feel the light wind around the two of you.

A gasp escapes your lips and you tense up as Loki breaks the kiss and the two of you look at the man standing before you. Your brain immediately recognizes the man as not a threat. Your heart is pounding and you can barely calm yourself down. 

“Director Fury, nice to see you,” Loki smiles smugly, as you feel his hands move from your ass to your hips.

“And just what the hell do you two think you’re doing?”, Fury asks, glaring at the two of you intertwined in the closet.

A wave of embarrassment creeps over you as you realize the scene before him: you and Loki, wrapped in each other’s arms, hair messy and looking like two hormone ravaged teenagers. 

You let go of his hair and leathers, trying to adjust yourself to look presentable (to no avail) and clearing your throat while you looked mortified and try not to make eye contact with the Director. 

“Well we were called in for reconnaissance. However, when I heard your team, I figured we should take a moment to ourselves,” he mischievously smiled down at you. 

As it dawned on you what happened, your eyes widen in shock at Loki. Still unable to say anything, you looked back and forth between Loki and Fury, unsure what will happen next.

“...now, if you’ll please excuse us for five more minutes, then we will gladly join you and your team to share information,” Loki said casually as if you weren’t riding his thigh in a dark closet.

Loki reached out, casually closing the door in front of a disapproving Nick Fury. 

“You knew it was them?!”, you suddenly found your voice, peeved at Loki for lying to you. 

“Of course darling, this was simply a ruse”, he smirked down at you, before putting one hand back on your bottom while another reached up to your breast to gently fondle it. You tried to ignore how good he was making you feel. 

“A ruse for what, Loki?”, you asked, disarmed by his gentle groping, as he begins to thrust himself against you again. You accidentally let a moan slip out as you feel the headiness of your lust cloud your thoughts. 

“Don’t act so coy darling, I’ve known you wanted me for some time. Now stop prattling on, we only have a few minutes and I want to make the most of it,” he planted another passionate kiss on your lips, and you melted into his arms, not a care in the world.

---

Peachyjinx Masterlist

#loki smut #loki #loki x reader #dom!loki x sub!reader #dom!loki smut #loki fanfic #loki series #loki show #loki laufeyson

[thefrogdalorian]

Sanctuary

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: It's one of those days when your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Despite the horrible day you're having, you try your best to keep it together. A feat you manage, until a certain Mandalorian arrives home and takes you into his arms. Word Count: 1.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety/panic attack ✯ Author's Note: Seeing these gifs the other day broke something in my brain and this little fic was the result. I hope this gets you through a day when you really need a hug from Din Djarin 💕 ✯ My Masterlist ✯

On the days when your stomach churned and you were too upset to vocalise the war that waged within yourself, you were grateful to have someone in your life who seemed to know exactly what you needed. There was no doubt that Din understood you better than you understood yourself. It was unsurprising, given how meticulous and attentive he was in everything he turned his hand to.

You had been in each other's lives for some time, yet you still found yourself pleasantly surprised each time he shared such care towards you. You never doubted Din's kind heart once you got to know him, but you were nonetheless astonished by the multitudes he contained. It was astounding how tender and caring the man, who had gained such a fearsome reputation throughout the galaxy as a ruthless bounty hunter, actually was beneath his cold, hard beskar. 

It was early in the morning when Din had left through the door and your stomach tied itself into knots as you heard his heavy footprints gradually fade into the distance. The sound indicated that you were now alone with your thoughts. Throughout the day, you had pushed your emotions to the deepest depths inside yourself. You had been trying to kid yourself, in his absence, that you could survive the day without breaking down. You told yourself over and over that if you could just make it until Din returned and then put on a brave face when he walked through the door, you would have survived the day without dissolving into pieces. The last thing you wanted was for Din to see how upset you were. The fear that you were weighing him down with your troubles or somehow holding him back from achieving greater things was omnipresent. Even though he had never given you a reason to fear such a thing, you were constantly terrified of being seen as a burden to him.

The familiar heavy footsteps grew louder; their rhythmic, even quality indicated they could belong to only one man. You took a deep breath and attempted to steady your racing heart, preparing yourself to keep it together upon Din's return.

The second you saw his figure in the doorway, you knew it was a lost cause. At the sight of the familiar outline of beskar shining in the entryway, you immediately knew that there was no way that you would be able to maintain your composure. You stood up immediately, rising off the chair you had been sitting on as you waited for him, to greet the man who owned your heart entirely. Instead of racing towards him as usual, you found yourself suddenly overcome with apprehension. Your steps faltered with uncertainty as you walked towards him on shaky legs, feeling your ability to stay strong evaporate just from laying eyes upon him. 

Din held his arms out to you without hesitation, beckoning you to come close to him.

“Come here, cyare,” Din whispered as you stepped into his orbit, his voice gravelly, “Let me hold you.”

As you closed the distance between you and Din to rest your head in the crook of his neck, you caught a glimpse of his mudhorn pauldron, glinting despite the low light of the cabin. Despite how terrible you felt, the ghost of a smile passed across your lips as you noticed the signet was so distinctively Din. Stepping into his arms felt like you were returning to safety. To your home.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled into his rough cowl, enjoying his familiar scent. It was musky and masculine, but not overbearing. You detected a faint hint of perspiration mixed with the floral scent you knew lingered on his skin thanks to the bottle of liquid he lathered across his tan skin in the 'fresher each morning. Din’s chestplate was firm against your body. Initially, you recoiled at the slight chill from the beskar, discernible even through your layers of clothing. Once you had adjusted to the temperature and new sensation, though, you felt nothing but warmth when you were in his arms.

As Din held you close and his hands rubbed comforting circles into your back with one strong arm holding you tightly around the waist, you appreciated the way your bodies fit together. It was as you were admiring how you seemed to be made for each other that you noticed how Din had wrapped his cape around your shoulders to further cocoon you into him. As though he was protecting you from all of the hurt that lingered outside of the sanctuary of his arms. From whatever was troubling you. There was no intense questioning, no expectations for answers. Only safety, love and understanding from a man who wanted to help you through your very worst days.

Something about nuzzling into Din’s neck and the care he had taken to raise your spirits rendered you speechless. You were overcome with emotion, powerless to stop the tears which started falling down your cheeks. At first, it was a solitary droplet, but then you couldn’t help yourself as more and more tears slipped from your eyes. 

At the first sound of your sniffles, Din pulled away from you. You felt your stomach drop in panic, momentarily afraid that you had upset him somehow. You looked up at him and felt the embarrassment settle somewhere low in your stomach, a physical symptom of the mortification you felt at your outburst. Then came the shame. You were dismayed that you had lost control of your emotions in such a way. Evidence of your loss of composure was evident in the reflection of your face in his helmet. You watched as your expression grew increasingly more distraught and felt your chest heaving as the panic rose within you, upset at your emotional state.

Fortunately, Din was nothing but understanding and caring. Before your thoughts could spiral anywhere darker, he began to use his soft leather gloves against your cheeks to dry the tears that were burning hot trails down your skin. It distracted you from your anguish, his tender touch providing instant comfort.

You relished the contact and melted into his embrace. Between his hand that lingered on your cheek, while the other rubbed your back and ensured his cape still swaddled you, your mood was instantly calmer. Din brought you back into his shoulder and returned his hands to your back, rubbing up and down as he held you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, relishing the small contact you gained with the warmth of his flesh between the hard plates of his beskar. You stayed like that for a few more minutes, feeling your anguish dissipate with each second that Din held you.

Eventually, your breathing evened out and returned to a less frantic pace. Sensing that his embrace had had the intended effect on your fragile emotional state, Din pulled away once again and brought his hands to cup your jaw gently.

“How are you feeling now?” he rasped as he stroked your cheeks with his gloved thumbs. 

“Being in your arms always makes me feel better,” you smiled.

“I’d hold you for the rest of my days if you only asked me to, cyare,” Din vowed with a nod of his helmet. 

You smiled then, enjoying the way your face lit up with a smile and how your eyes had regained their sparkle thanks to the tight embrace of your attentive Mandalorian; your sanctuary.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin fluff #my fics #maybe i cried when i finished this (had a bad meltdown tonight lol and i truly need a certain mandalorian to wrap me up in his cape) #also thats my gif in my delulu brain that moment really looks like he's opening his arms to you for a hug HEH

[honeykyeom]

white noise / track 1: st. patrick

pairing: lee seokmin x afab! reader

series summary: your best friend seokmin has always been there for you. after a particularly rough heartbreak, you find out he's there for you in more ways than just one.

series notes: uni!au, best friends to lovers, friends with benefits, kpop 97 line antics and shenanigans (specifically seventeen & loona), 18+ (smut is outlined/warned beforehand)

chapter notes: alcohol mention and consumption, house party setting, smut!!! (oral sex [afab receiving], protected sex, small insecurity mention), mingyu being pouty, yves being a terrible wingwoman, minghao being the king he is, to my jaehyun lovers i'm so sorry, this is for the orbits for the pain that we've been through

wc: 7.2k (still can't believe i wrote this much)

a/n: i've teased bringing this back a lot and this series still means so much to me, even though it still sits unfinished lol. this first track especially. and if it weren't the support (& excitement) of @onlyseokmins, idk if i ever would've reposted it. so this is for you bb <3 please let me know what you think in the tags or send in asks, i'd love to hear your thoughts! <33

“What do you think about this?”

You look over at your friend, her figure adorning a velvet tube top with loose white cloth pants, an outfit that’s comfortable and light for a steamy college party and yet accentuates her curves enough to show off. Any sane person would tell Yves that she would be the center of attention as soon as she walks through the door, having everyone question if they wanted to be her or be with her.

“It looks good,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, going back to aimlessly scrolling on your phone, surrounded by a multi-chrome array of clothes.

You were clearly not the sane person in that scenario. 

Yves turns to you, exasperated at your attitude. “Dude, you’ve been so boring since you got your heart broken by Jaehyun.”

“I did not get my heart broken.”

“Really? Because you’re acting like the second lead who just got dumped in a drama.” 

“Your outfit and you are hot, like always! Is that what you wanted to hear,” a small chuckle leaves your lips as you stand up from the bed. “Anyways, I’m not heartbroken, just upset.”

You look over your outfit in the floor-length mirror of the room, your black booties standing out against your mid-wash jean shorts. As you play with your cardigan, your mind wanders to Jaehyun and the ghost of a fling, fleeting and indescribable to anyone not close to you. You begin to wonder how he describes you to his close confidantes, if the small cafe dates and late night study sessions in the library were described with care or if all that mattered were the rushed bedroom antics, leaving you with just a memory and an “I think we should see other people” text message. 

“Take this off. I know you and you’re going to get hot,” Yves wakes you from your daze, pulling your cardigan off your body, revealing your black cropped tank, “This is a better outfit anyway. We’re going to a party, not one of Haseul’s opera recitals.” She joins you in the mirror, a small smile gracing her face as she assesses your outfit. “Much better. Plus, this,” she gestures to your figure, “will help you get laid.”

You roll your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what they say! To get over someone, you have to get under someone new.”

Looking at Yves, her pride evident in her stance and a mischievous gleam in her smile, you were sure of one thing. “You’re absolutely mental.”

“You know I’m right,” Yves insists. “One way to quickly get over someone is to have sex with someone else. I’ve done it.” Her shameless approach on the topic bleeds through her demeanor, her shoulder sitting low on her upper body as she sits on her bed and one of her legs drapes across the other. Just as you were about to respond to her, your phone buzzes in your back pocket, distracting you and Yves from the current conversation.

LADS ‼️💯‼️

seokmin: ya’ll going to the party tn?

haseul: can’t :/ have the late night shift at the library

mingyu: booooo tomato tomato

minghao: and what happened to fuck capitalism?

haseul: try telling our landlord that

minghao: fair enough

yn: yves and i are going!

seokmin: jinsoul?

jinsoul: social battery is pretty low, so i’m probably going to stay home

mingyu: BOOOOO tomato tomato 🍅🍅🍅 i'm throwing tomatoes!

yves: leave her alone gyu!

jinsoul: i’m not getting you coffee before class anymore for that

minghao: lmao good job gyu

yn: he will be his own downfall

mingyu: :(

seokmin: anyways the boys and i will see yall there! 

seokmin: do you need a ride?

yves: we’re taking an uber!

minghao: good. stay safe!

Yves looks up from her phone and looks at you with a playful smirk pulling at her lips. “You know what I just thought was a great idea.”

With her track record, it’s probably not a good idea.

“You should hook up with Seokmin.”

It definitely wasn’t a good idea. “Okay, now I know you’ve lost your mind.”

“You can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about it.”

You can’t deny that you haven’t thought about how your best friend would treat you in the bedroom. You would get lost in your head, thinking about how his arms had gotten toned after his recent workout sessions and how those same arms would hold you down as he made you reach cloud nine. Many would cringe at the mere thought, but with how close you and Seokmin were and how much time you two spent together, people thinking you were at least hooking up wasn’t uncommon, your cheeks getting hot any time it’s brought up. His eyes would get wide with that same sweet smile, the red flush on his ears disappearing quickly. You’d never cross that boundary just to get over a silly boy; your friendship means much more to you than a quickie.

“Just because I might’ve thought about it, doesn’t make it something that needs to happen. I’m not that desperate,” you double down on your stance, grabbing your phone to check the status of your Uber, finding any excuse to escape this conversation. The thin black line stating your driver was more than 5 minutes away, you mentally curse at whoever was upstairs who enjoys watching you suffer at the hands of Yves.

“Please, have you seen how buff he’s getting! Those arms?” a sly grin blooming on her face, she looks over at you expectantly as if you would agree with her. You do, but you’d never let her know that. Instead of entertaining her antics, you grab your personal bag, ready to leave for the night.

“Okay, you’re done. Let’s go,” you say, pulling Yves from the bed, “the Uber is almost here.”

Walking through the door of the frat house, the humidity in the air makes your shirt stick to your chest like a second skin. The packed bodies only add to the warmth inside the cramped house, you silently thank Yves for making you take off your cardigan, the couple years of your friendship proving that she knows you better than you think. She hugs your backside, keeping you close as you move through the mass of people, looking for your group of friends.

“Do you know if they’re here yet?” you hear Yves’ voice, yelling above the crowd from behind you and almost blending into the music.

You respond, bringing your face close to her ear, “Yeah, Seokmin texted me saying they were!” She nods in acknowledgment, eyes scanning the immediate area. It’s hard to miss a man towering over the crowd, his signature black hair striking against his tan skin making him stand out as he takes a sip from his red solo cup near the kitchen. Two other men stand close to him, donning similar red plastic cups, one with a bright smile that easily lights up the room, shining with the fluorescent blues and purples of the house, and the other boy making his mark with a messy mullet and trademark style that defines his frame. Even if you hadn’t recognized the trio as your best friends, you would’ve instantly taken notice, the boys immediately attracting your attention. 

“I found them!” you announce to Yves, who’s still close behind you, clinging to your arm as if her life depended on it. Grabbing her hand, you move through the crowd, not caring whose toes you stepped on or if people didn’t hear your ‘excuse us!’. It wasn’t long before you met with the trio of men, their faces lighting up as soon as they took notice of your presence and Mingyu pulling you in for a suffocating hug. 

“You finally made it!” Mingyu’s breath is hot against you as he yells over the noise, still keeping you close even after the hug was long done, his arms tucking you underneath him. His chin decides to rest on your head and naturally finding its place as his arms wrap around your figure. At first glance, people may think that the two of you were an item, but Mingyu was just close with anyone he knew, finding any reason to hug his close friends. 

“You’re lucky we made it all, hell, with how many people are here!”

“We were talking about moving to the backyard once you got here. Did you guys want a drink first?” Minghao is the one to speak up, looking at you and Yves through his bangs, bringing his red solo cup to his lips. 

A groan breaks through the air, Yves grabbing his hand as she responds, “Yes, please. I definitely need it.”

Surprisingly, the kitchen is less crowded than the common areas of the house, bodies not congregating in the area once they make their drinks. You feel instant relief, the air conditioning hitting your skin, even a nice breeze from the back door giving you much needed fresh air. The group makes their way to the kitchen island, an array of liquor, beer, and mixers lining the surface, making the workspace nonexistent. Mingyu works with what he has though, his hands moving with diligence and ease as he acts as the group’s personal bartender for the night - just like every group gathering before. 

“Hey!”

Turning towards the voice, you’re met with Seokmin, his dark hair falling against his tan skin and a smile so big that the skin near his eyes smile along with him, still sparkling with the bright party lights. Your heart grows warm seeing your best friend, the energy around him bursting with sunshine and love that anyone can feel when they enter his presence. You return his smile and saddle up to his side. Your shoulders touch as the two of you watch Mingyu mix drinks for you and Yves, who joins you and Seokmin, sitting on the kitchen counter next to him.

“I haven’t gotten to ask you, how are you doing since…” Seokmin’s words trail off and you look at him, concern etched in his face.

“Since Jaehyun? I’m not made of glass, you know. We can talk about him.”

Yves chimes in, “Don’t act like you weren’t crying about how unloveable you were just two days ago,” her snark ever prevalent in her tone. 

“Anyways!” you retort, moving your attention back to Seokmin, “I’m fine. It was just a little fling, not a big deal.”

“It’s ok to be sad. You really liked him.” Seokmin flashes you a sincere smile, so pure, so full of light, the party seems to be worth it all from this little interaction. It’d been a while since you left your cave, only earthing to join the weekly movie night with everyone. Every time you wanted to hide away underneath your sheets, when you wanted your world to be blackness, when you wanted the world to swallow you whole, Seokmin was always there, the light at the end of your tunnel, pulling you out. 

“Well, we’re not being sad tonight,” Mingyu interrupts your daze, handing you a miniature plastic cup, the same shot-sized reusable cups that were on the counter for reckless decisions like this one. “We’re here to forget about Jaehyun and enjoy our friends. Ones we know won’t leave us high and dry.” He holds his cup up to the ceiling, everyone following suit. “To our friendship!”

The clear liquid burns in your throat and you can feel it travel down your body, a chill tingling up your spine. Your nights that usually start with vodka shots don’t end too well, you think.

Cheers to you finding out what this night has in store.

A breeze wafts into the air, tripping you up and the ball you just threw blowing away with it.

“That’s not fair! The wind affected the throw!”

“Doesn’t matter! We discussed the rules before we started!”

A pout forming on your face, you stand back, giving Seokmin room for his turn. He turns to you, giving you a small pat on your lower back, muttering a soft ’it’s okay’ before his concentration is back on the five red cups laid in front of him on the table. His eyes are focused, his face still as he brings his hand up to aim, lining up his shot. The air was silent, the group paying close attention to his actions, watching him take his shot. The world seems to stop as he lets go of the plastic ball, everyone quiet until it reaches the rim of a plastic cup, toying with your emotions until it finally dips into the cup with a resounding plop.

You scream and wrap your arms around Seokmin, giddy with excitement as giggles fill the air. You don’t even care that there were still 3 cups to a victory and neither did Seokmin as he lifted you in the air, making your world dizzy. He held you tight, keeping you tucked into him even after he set your two feet back on the ground, his arms hugging you and taking place on your shoulders.

“I don’t know why Y/N is celebrating, they’ve missed every one of their shots!” Mingyu taunts, clearly trying to get under your skin. 

Before you can respond, Seokmin speaks up, “Hey! We’re closer to winning than you! And that’s bold coming from you when Yves is clearly carrying your team.”

Mingyu gets quiet at that, Yves not even able to defend her teammate, just turns to him with a sympathetic pat on his arm before lining up to take her shot. Minghao, who’s leaning comfortably on the back wall of the house, chuckles, only staying quiet once Mingyu shoots him a death glare.

Looking up at Seokmin, you pout with a small whisper, “Am I that bad?”

“What? No! Also, who cares? It’s just beer pong.” He leaves the comfort of your touch to grab the ping pong balls from the grass, both missed by Yves and Mingyu. 

“I care! For my ego.” You know he’s trying to make you feel better, trying to make sure you don’t take Mingyu’s competitive nature to heart like you tend to do. It is just beer pong. But the phrase “The more you drink, the better you are at beer pong” has exceptions and you may be one of them, the alcohol coursing through your system not helping whatsoever.

A playful smirk appears on Seokmin’s face as he says, “Would it hurt your ego if I helped you out with your form?”

You look at Seokmin through your lashes, your pout turning into a coy smile and a flirtatious lilt coming out of your tone. “No, I don’t think so.”

When Seokmin hands you the ping pong ball, he takes position behind you, lifting your hand with his, the other holding to your waist tightly. His breath was hot against your face, his voice soft and nurturing, tickling your ears, “You want to keep your wrist loose and have it high to start. It’s easier to aim from high above.”

It could be the alcohol talking, but having Seokmin this close, this intimate, had you thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to have him tangled in your sheets. The same caramel voice that was coaching you through your terrible beer pong skills, the same voice that calls you late at night to make sure you’ve made it home safely, that same voice would be coaxing you to your high, having you come apart from his words alone.

It’s definitely just the alcohol talking, you think. You hope that’s the case, anyway.

“Once you get an aim, you’ll want to let go and follow through with your throw.” Seokmin leads you in the motion he described, still keeping you close. With your confidence now elevated, the air still, and everyone quietly watching, you let go of the ball and follow its arc as it sinks into a center cup.

Pride lights your smile aglow, your first instinct to reach Seokmin for a hug in a small celebration. His grip on you is tight as he hugs you back, his eyes showering you with admiration. 

“I knew you could do it.”

“I only made that shot because of you.”

You glance over at the other side of the table. With a knowing smirk on Yves’ face, she keeps her eyesight towards the ground, preparing for her next turn. 

You won’t be hearing the end of it from her.

You lean against the folding chair you’ve taken refuge in, a sweet breeze coming in, slightly lifting the jacket that’s draped across your shoulders. Smoke from the small fire in front of you makes your eyes sting, tears filling the corners. Bringing the cup you have to your lips, a clear line of separation from the ice that has melted and the alcoholic coke visible, you shudder at the taste and hand the cup back to Mingyu. “This party is kinda boring.”

“Oh, is beating us at beer pong not enough fun for you?”

“You’re starting to sound like a sore loser, Gyu,” Minghao chimes in, nursing his own screwdriver next to you. He keeps his puff jacket unzipped, letting the heat from the fire warm him up from the chill of the night air. 

“So what if I am? Yves didn’t do all that work for nothing.”

“Speaking of Yves, where is she?” You never saw her slip away from the group, the atmosphere missing her snark and light attitude, but you’re only met with shrugs from the two men in front of you. 

“She mentioned meeting with ViVi, don’t know if she ever found her.” The voice comes from behind you with a hand meeting your shoulder, the touch not unwelcomed, recognizing it to be Seokmin. “I’m assuming she has because she’s been gone for awhile.”

Just as Seokmin rejoins the group, a fresh drink in hand, your phone buzzes on your lap with the screen illuminating your face, looking at the text.

yves: leaving with vivi, don’t wait up <3

yves: also, don’t think we won’t be talking about seokmin later 

yves: 😉

yn: we won’t be talking about him bcs nothing is nor will happen

yves: keep telling yourself that

You tune yourself out of your conversation with Yves, exhausted from the few text messages and her persistence. Turning your attention back to the group, leaning your head against Seokmin’s arm. “Yves just texted me. She left with ViVi.”

“Of course she did. I’m surprised it took her this long to make a move,” Minghao comments. The fire was now burning stronger, embers flying through the space only to land softly on the concrete. “How long has she been talking to her, anyway?”

“About 3 months now,” Mingyu answers.

“Damn… She must really like her.”

“Yeah, she never waits that long if it’s just a hookup. Even if I wanted to take someone out, I don’t think I’d wait that long.”

Minghao's eyes flicker to Seokmin, something on the edge of understanding and comfort, almost like he was sympathizing with him. Something you might have noticed if you weren’t resting on Seokmin’s hips, eyes closed as he rubs small circles on your shoulder. Something you would ask Seokmin about if you had seen. The look leaves as quickly as it came, Minghao’s face leans downcast, lips pursed as if he was holding his thoughts in.

Seokmin’s face leans close to your ear, soft and inviting as he speaks, “You getting tired?”

“Not really. Just bored,” sighing, you look up at Seokmin, meeting his eyes. “Kind of want to go home.”

“Let me take you back, make sure you get home safe. I’ll get us an Uber.”

“You just got your drink! I don’t want to end your night early.” You give Seokmin a gentle smile, a small appreciative gesture at his care. He was always taking care of you, always by your side, always giving himself to you. You wanted him to enjoy his night not worrying about you, at the very least.

Suddenly, Seokmin is walking to Mingyu, handing his cup over to the man sitting on the concrete, engulfed in conversation with Minghao. He announces his departure, telling the boys to make sure to get to their shared apartment safely and let him know when they do. Then, he’s walking back to you, grabbing your hand with such kindness, such care, before he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Let’s go.”

Your keys clinking fill the dead space as you enter your apartment, making sure to hold the door open, inviting Seokmin to follow you. He’s been here many times, whether it was alone or with your group of friends. The apartments shared between the seven of you had an open-door policy, welcoming heartbreaks, laughs, boredom, and overall debauchery with wide arms and open cabinets. Seokmin didn’t ask any questions when he walked into your apartment last week and saw you left alone in the darkness, nursing a bowl of your comfort instant ramen, your body hidden underneath an oversized blanket. You didn’t ask any questions when he joined you in your reality tv show marathon, grabbing a blanket from your ottoman, letting the fabric swallow him whole when he settled on your couch. Neither of you said anything, sitting in a comfortable silence, your brains turned off from the stress of the week.

He knew he didn’t need to ask anything; he knew you would come to him eventually, when you were ready. 

He secretly hoped your heart would do the same.

“Did you want a drink?” your voice brings Seokmin back to reality. You were at your fridge, pulling out transparent green glass bottles. “I know you didn't get to finish yours earlier.” 

“I thought you were tired,” Seokmin ignores the question, instead looking at you incredulously.

After you open the bottles, you bring the cold bubbly liquid to your lips, walking across your kitchen island to bring Seokmin the other. “I said I was bored, not tired. There was nothing to do, just a lot of loud drunk kids.”

“That’s most frat parties, you know.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I keep letting Yves drag me to them,” you sigh, staring past Seokmin but not focusing on anything in particular. 

“How about we play a game or something? Never have I ever?”

“You already know most everything about me! What fun would that be?”

“I bet there’s some things I don’t know about you!” While you and Seokmin had known each other since freshman year, spending most of your time together, you kept yourself guarded. Only letting Seokmin in when you were comfortable, prepared for the onslaught of judgment - which never came. Seokmin had been nothing but understanding, a warm breeze in an otherwise cold world. “How about we play 20 questions?”

You purse your lips, letting the beer bottle settle on your countertop as you think over Seokmin’s proposition. “Fine.”

“What was your first impression of me?”

You giggle to yourself, settling on your rug in the living room, thinking back to when you first met Seokmin during freshman orientation. Your knees touch his, bumping into each other as you reminisce. “What was my first impression of the goofball who followed me around like a lost puppy?”

Seokmin laughs, lighting up the room, making happiness bubble to the surface of your skin. You join in his laughter as he says, “Hey! Two lost people is better than one! Would you have not wanted me to follow you around because look at us now!”

“You’re right. Who knew that little goofball would end up being one of the best people in my life?”

“Remember during the social, Mingyu busted his ass trying to show up Minghao at b-boying?”

“Yeah and we had to help him nurse his ego in the dorm hallway?”

You and Seokmin had been inseparable that weekend, from his first awkward “Do you know where the Admin building is?” to your last “I guess I’ll be seeing you around campus”, you two finding your way back to each other come the first semester. With you two living in adjacent dorm buildings, it was easy to catch up for lunch, walk each other to class and meet in the communal study rooms. Mingyu happened to live in the same building as Seokmin and Jinsoul was your freshman year roommate. Soon, your group during the lunch break grew to include Haseul, Minghao, and Yves and solidified during sophomore year. They all held a special place in your heart, but none like Seokmin and they all knew it. Life was easier with Seokmin; midterms never seemed as difficult with his guiding light, heartbreaks never felt as lonely with his warmth and bad decisions never were so irreversible with his love.

Seokmin was and will always be your home — your light at the end of the tunnel. 

The laughter between you two dies down, an easy silence falling in the air. It isn’t until you calm down that you ask the next question, “Okay my turn.” You bring a serious expression to your face, shifting the tone from the previous lighthearted atmosphere. “Is it better to love & lose or never love at all?”

“Oh, you’re getting philosophical on me now?”

“No better time than at 1 am on a Friday night, tipsy with my best friend.”

You see Seokmin slightly wince, something that happens in a blink of an eye before it’s replaced with a pensive expression, his lips jutting out in thought. You don’t have time to point it out before he’s answering, “Isn’t it better to love & lose? I mean, what’s a world without love?” You think on his words, albeit too long as he voices, “Why? Do you feel different?”

“Personally… yeah,” you mutter. You speak a little louder, confiding to Seokmin, “It might be everything that happened with Jaehyun but I can’t see how I can be thankful for giving him my love.” 

“You… loved him?” Seokmin murmurs quietly, unable to mask his surprise. 

“Not exactly, but is it embarrassing how fast I fell for him?”

No…” Seokmin trails off, his lips in a thin line, almost like he’s trying to keep himself from saying something he wants to. It’s faint, but you notice.

“What do you want to say?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re hiding something.”

“No I’m not,” he repeats, adamant. 

“Yes you are!” you smile before continuing, “C’mon, just tell me!” You begin to poke Seokmin’s side, a prominent offensive move in your arsenal. Seokmin giggles, trying to move away from the stimulation of your jabs, but is unsuccessful as you reach over and begin your attacks on his left side.

“Y/N stop!” His demand comes out broken as he tries to catch his breath, unable to break his fits of laughter.

“Not until you tell me what you’re hiding!”

Your assault continues, your giggles getting louder, probably annoying your neighbors. Neither of you are able to catch your breath, until Seokmin suddenly grabs hold of your wrists, bringing your back to the cushion of your rug, effectively pinning you to the ground.

Your laughter dies, the room becoming dead silent, only your ragged breaths filling the air. Your chest is heaving, your lungs trying to catch the precious air around you. With Seokmin straddling your waist, it isn’t until your breathing finally slows do you realize that his face is inches away from yours. His breath is audible, face red from the commotion. 

You’ve never really looked at Seokmin this close, his mole standing out on his cheek. You notice every pore, every freckle and every line, all of it accumulating into the beauty of his face. His eyes are soft as he looks at you. The tension is unmistakably palpable, making your skin hot underneath his touch. You glance down at his lips, the curves and various shades of pink accentuating against his tan skin.

Before you can think much about it, you’re suddenly kissing him. 

And just as quick, he’s pulling away from you, eyes wide. He looks at you as if you might break, like fragile glass ready to crack at any moment. 

“Are you sure you want this?” Seokmin is sincere, voice woven with care, loosening your own heart strings. “I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret in the morning,” he whispers, speaking softly, trying not to overstep his boundaries. His thought to put you first was the last undoing of the tangled mess of woven string in your heart, unraveled and exposing yourself to him. 

“I’m sure, Seokmin. I want you.”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before Seokmin’s lips are back on yours, swallowing your last breath.

His lips are softer than you imagine and taste of mint and whiskey, combining to create something that was uniquely Seokmin. The hairs stand up along your body, your senses being invigorated by Seokmin’s attention to your lips. Shivers run down your body from his kisses alone and once he starts trailing along your jaw and neck, your skin lights fire, igniting the burning desire within you. 

His hands leave your wrists, bringing them to your torso, keeping you close against him as your hands immediately cling to his neck, breathing heavily. He runs small circles along your skin, making you go dizzy.

Panting, you manage to whisper through your short breaths, “Should we take this somewhere that, you know, isn’t my living room floor?”

Seokmin keeps his attention on your neck as he responds between kisses, “I don’t know. I was ready to take you right here.”

“Do you want me to blow my back out?”

“Oh, you’ll be getting your back blown out no matter where you are.. so it’s really up to you.” You can feel him smile against your neck with a small nip. You moan at his words, his confidence making you quiver. This kind of arrogance isn’t something you’re used to seeing on Seokmin, but you can’t deny that it looks good on him, easily molding you like clay under his fingers. 

You play it cool, though, or you hope, at least. “I’d rather not have sex with you on my living room rug.”

“Fair enough.”

SMUT WARNING !

As soon as you shut the door, Seokmin finds his hands all over you, bringing you back to his mouth. One of his hands lands on your waist, kneading at your skin underneath your crop top, slightly lifting the fabric. He held on tight, not wanting to let you go, afraid of you disappearing from his grasp. He can’t help but think this is all a dream — his ears ringing with your whines, his fingers grazing your goosebumps, it was everything he’d fantasized about. 

“Seokmin…” Your voice sounds sweet in his ears, blissful, a desire dripping from it that he’s never heard from you before. 

“What is it?”

Your breath on him is hot, heavy against his skin. “Can we hurry this up because I need you,” you sigh, a small teasing smile playing against your lips. Your hands were grabbing at his clothes desperately, the tug and pull making Seokmin’s head spin. He lets out an airy chuckle, pulling you closer.

Seokmin leads you to your bed, your back hitting the mattress as he runs his hands along your thighs, still leaving kisses along your neck. He trails along the length of your body, down your neck, your clothed chest, your stomach, leaving languid kisses. He was in no rush, wanting this night to last as long as possible, even if it was already two in the morning. He could have you underneath him for hours, your hands pulling at the strands on his head.

He reaches the bottom of your shirt, playing with the hem, leaving open mouthed kisses along your stomach. “Can I?” He asks, referring to your crop as he looks at you, eyes meeting yours. He didn’t want to do anything out of comfort zone, feeling lucky enough to be in this position. As much as the flirty banter made both of your positions clear, he wanted to give you any opportunity to back out if you were ever uncomfortable with crossing the imaginary boundary of your friendship. 

You nod and slowly, Seokmin begins to lift your top, revealing your torso. It took everything in him to not confess to you right then and there, the alcohol flowing in his system removing the filter in his mind. He wanted to kiss you all over, sing sweet praises, tell you how much he’d always wanted this and more, how he’s been in love with you since that freshman orientation weekend — everything that’s been on his mind these past two years.

But he settles with a “God, you’re so beautiful,” hoping that you’d recognize the whiskey lacing his words instead of the yearning.

“Why are you acting so surprised? You’ve seen me in a bikini before!”

He has seen you in a bikini and Seokmin had to take a cold shower when he rinsed the chlorine off of his body for the day, hoping you hadn’t noticed his lingering eyes.

“Can’t a guy just compliment his best friend’s naked body before he fucks them?”

He’s also hoping that you don’t notice how hard it was for him to say that, disguising his wince with a teasing smile.

You begin to unbutton your jean shorts, your hands dancing around the waistband of the material. “Are you actually going to fuck me or are you just going to talk about it?”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him. He fears that you know that.

“I should’ve known you were going to be a brat,” Seokmin mutters, still loud enough for you to hear as he pulls down your shorts down your legs. He’s met with a visible wet patch on your black underwear, which almost takes him out right at that moment. The damp fabric is stuck to your cunt, like a second skin. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“You’re so wet,” Seokmin responds, getting closer to the gap between your legs, blowing puffs of air from his words, making you shake from the stimulation. 

“Is that a bad thing?” He can hear the insecurity in your voice, the confidence from earlier breaking with you slowly pulling your legs together. Seokmin counteracts this action, bringing your legs apart and opening yourself up to him once again. He plants a soft kiss on your inner thigh and he feels the tension release from your body, welcoming his touch.

He looks up at you earnestly. “Of course not. It’s hot.” He toys with your panties, waiting for your approval to continue.

“You can take them off, Seokmin.”

That was all Seokmin needed, peeling your underwear off. 

Seokmin thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. Seeing you bare, spread open for him and only him, was something he’d never believed would happen to him in this lifetime. He’s awestruck at your beauty, only able to respond by kissing your thighs repeatedly, your moans only encouraging him. 

He lowers himself close to your pussy and licks a slow, long stroke along your bud. You grab at his head instantly, a whine coming out of you. He circles your folds, teasingly slow, savoring every moment he has between your legs. You taste sweet, more enticing than any of Seokmin’s dreams. His hands took purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him when you’d steer away. Your arousal builds and he’s quick to flit his tongue against your clit.

“Fuck! Have you always been good at this?” you choke out, the question coming out broken and breathy, a moan following.

Seokmin smiles against you, laughing quietly, the vibrations tickling against his lips. His pride was swelling, hearing you, the person he’s been in love with for two years now, cry for him. The feeling is making him insatiable, the desire to make you cum overriding any other thought in his mind. Your fingers that were in his hair started to pull harder, fervid as the pleasure overtook you. 

The ache in between his legs, his dick squeezing in between the fabric of his jeans, started to become excruciating. Seokmin slowly grinds against the mattress, searching for any relief for his own hard-on. It proves to be useless, his arousal moving three steps forward and one step back each time you moan his name. His face was covered in you as you jerk against him, riding out the sensations.

He ghosts his fingers to your entrance, hovering over it, teasing you with the prospect of having them inside of you. He keeps his fingers where they are until you wail, begging for them.

“Seokmin, stop teasing…” your voice trails, punctuated with a gasp, from Seokmin slipping his fingers inside of you.

He didn’t need any lubrication, you were dripping enough for him. The sounds that were coming out of your cunt were lewd and it only turned Seokmin on more, blood rushing to his cock and the strain against his jeans becoming even more unbearable to ignore. He can feel you clenching around his fingers; he knows you’re close. Once he reaches the bumpy surface of your g-spot, your muscles tense even more and your breath hitches, your legs squeezing Seokmin.

“Let go for me,” he whispers with a kiss to your clit. A second later, you’re coming undone, back arching off of the mattress. Your walls pulse against his fingers, making his cock twitch. His eyes were transfixed on your figure, watching you fall apart because of him. You were beautiful, this he always knew to be true, but the image of you tensing around him and cumming against his fingers would be engraved in his mind for the rest of his life. 

You begin to come down from your high, Seokmin kissing your inner thigh, eyes shining with awe as he continues to slowly pump in and out of you. You look down at him, relaxing your hands that were once gripping his hair with superhuman strength. He didn’t mind, though. He never minded anything when it came to you, especially since he knew that he was the reason for the overwhelming pleasure.

“Oh my god… Seriously, where did you learn to eat pussy like that?” you breathe out, still trying to catch your breath. 

“I don’t know,” Seokmin chuckles as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. “I guess I’m just a natural.”

You sit up, reaching for Seokmin’s chin as you bring his lips to yours, taking his breath away. He's completely intoxicated by you, the alcohol wearing off and being replaced by your allure. It still amazes him how you have him trapped under your spell, wrapped around your finger — and you don’t even know it. Seokmin is so lost in your kiss, he doesn’t realize that he’s now on his back with you straddling him, your hands fumbling with his zipper.

“Let me take care of you,” you coo, your lips still close to his, brushing against them softly.

It pains Seokmin, the thought of your mouth around his length, his body shivers with the image in his mind. “I’m going to be honest, while I’d love to have you sucking me off, I’d cum in 30 seconds,” he confesses. “I need to be inside of you. Now.” You smile so bright, so enchanting, Seokmin is already seeing stars when you kiss him again, only breaking the kiss to take off his pants and underwear and he removes his shirt.

“Do you have a condom?” he asks, lingering on your body as you remove your bra.

“There’s one inside my nightstand.”

Once Seokmin rolls the condom down his length, your body hovering over him, he finally realizes that this is actually happening. This might not be the way he thought it would ever happen, but he doesn’t have much time to think about it before you’re sinking down on him, enveloping his cock in your heat with a curse. 

You pause, eyes screwed shut as you mentally curse. Tears threaten to fall, pooling to the side of your eyes. Seokmin sees this and panics, immediately sitting up, rubbing soft circles on your cheek. “Hey, hey, are you okay? What’s wrong?” He speaks softly, comforting, afraid that you would crack.

You shake your head, finally opening your eyes to look at him. “It’s nothing, it’s just…” 

“Just what?”

“I just had to adjust. You’re…” you pause, thinking carefully on your words, “much bigger than I anticipated.”

Seokmin can’t help but feel smug. He can feel you clenching around him, squeezing the life out of his cock. He can’t hide his smirk, but he’s quick to give you a tender kiss, feeling you relax on top of him. “Just relax. You set the pace,” he soothes and you nod in response.

He stays sitting up as you slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap and Seokmin is already seeing stars, holding back moans. You start slow and easy, setting a rhythmic pace, building pleasure and you lean your head on his shoulder. “Fuck, Seokmin.”

“What is it, baby?” The pet name slips out before Seokmin can catch it. He mentally curses, hoping you don’t notice. It tastes sweet on his tongue, like it was meant to come out of his mouth. 

“You feel so good,” you moan, punctuating the statement with a clamp on his cock.

“I can say the same for you.” It was embarrassing how close Seokmin already was, completely drunk on you. Every squeeze, every whine brought him closer to his dissolve; it took every ounce of Seokmin’s self-control to not let go right there. It took everything in him to not confess, tell you that this was everything he’d ever dreamt of, that he was helplessly and completely in love with you. Seeing you drunk on him, on his cock, was shattering all of his resolve.

“Seokmin, I’m so close,” you whine.

Thank God, Seokmin thinks. His hands that were on your waist guide you, bouncing you up and down on his cock, helping you reach your high. “C’mon, baby, you can do it.” Fuck, I’ve got to stop saying that… 

He feels your nails dig into him, creating crescent moons and threatening to break skin as the tension that was building in your body starts to snap, an overwhelming amount of electricity coursing through your veins. Seokmin’s willpower is left on a thread, feeling your velvet walls tense around his cock, he’s close to his own climax. Once he’s looking at you, seeing your pleasure wash over you, your eyebrows furrowed and a symphony of moans releasing from your mouth, he’s done for. His orgasm crashes against him and he grips your waist tightly, keeping your body at a steady pace as he empties inside of you. 

You're both left panting, bodies spent and going still. All that’s left in the air is your breath and the humidity as you both come down from your highs. Seokmin doesn’t know what comes over him, but the overwhelming need to kiss you takes over his body. He doesn’t think, just reaches up and pulls you to his lips, kissing you passionately until his thoughts come back to him.

Well, where do we go from here?

#seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #seokmin smut #dk smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt smut #svt scenarios

[achenetype]

loser! luke who sees aphrodite!reader with tons of gifts and letters from admirers and gets a bit insecure about his crush on her but all reader really wants is for him to man up and tell her his feelings 🥹🥹🥹

loser!luke nation rise UPPPP. pathetic men are the best

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

content: some suggestive themes, luke being so whipped for reader it hurts, daughter of aphrodite reader, mutual pining, first kiss (let's go luke you finally did it!)

listening to: right here by chase atlantic

you knew he liked you. he wasn't exactly subtle about it, but then again, no one was subtle to you. you were aphrodite's daughter. the goddess of love had blessed you with, among other things, the ability to sense feelings from a mile away. and luke's feelings were strong.

they changed depending on the day. every now and then, talking to him, you'd catch a tiny flicker of love from him. when you'd helped him look over strategy for capture the flag, his emotions rung out companionship, shot through with striations of the kind of love you have for a comrade in battle. mutual respect, and care. so much care.

now, when you're sitting shirtless next to him in the apollo cabin, squeezing his hand as one of the medics stitches up a wound on your arm, his feelings are dark. they're murky, as if clouded by something else. his eyes flick up to yours as you suck in a breath through your teeth, but they don't stay there for long; his gaze falls over your body; your chest, your stomach. the band of skin between your bra and your waistband.

you realize, a little slowly, that what he was feeling was lust.

so yes, you knew luke liked you, as much as any other guy did at least.

other guys at camp would give you gifts, ask you on dates. sometimes, they would write you letters, pages of messy, cramped demigod handwriting about how much they loved you. how they would do anything for you, how they could see themselves kissing you or fucking you or starting a family with you.

luke wasn't like that. he was your friend before he was anything else, and he didn't posture for your attention or try to impress you.

plus, you actually liked luke back.

he squeezes your hand again. "hey," he says, leaning over to look at your injured arm. "it's not too bad. only a few more stitches left."

you nod, biting your lip. luke's thumb rubs tiny circles over your knuckles, little concentric things that ground you to the world.

you wish, not for the first time, that he would lean in and kiss you. at least brush his lips against your hand, the way you can feel that he wants to.

you wish he would do a lot of things.

when the two of you are walking back to your cabin (because luke insists on being a gentleman, and you aren't going to refuse him when he smiles at you) he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled envelope.

"i was going to give this to you when we won capture the flag," he says, "but you...you got hurt, and i figured it might have been a bad time."

his eyes search your face as he holds out the letter. it's addressed in curving, fluid script to you, and as you open it luke's emotions flicker with uncertainty, with fear.

[Y/N], I think I'm in love with you.

oh. oh.

You're one of the only people who I can really be myself around. I could explain every reason why I love you, but that would take a lot more paper, and I already think this letter is going to be embarrassingly long. I've thought about you-

this sentence is scribbled out, but you can make out the faint outlines of the words even though you probably never give me a second thought imprinted into the paper. you look up at luke, who flushes a soft red.

You make me feel real. You're like a planet, and I'm just a moon orbiting you. Every time I see you, I feel like I can do anything in the world. I want to treat you right, better than anyone else ever could.

"luke," you say.

he looks up, and you swear his eyes are shiny with tears. "c'mere," you murmur, and pull him into a hug. "gods, you took long enough to tell me."

his arms wrap around you slowly, as if he's expecting you to be ripped away from him. when you pull back, one hand draped over his shoulder, he cups your face in his hands and thumbs over your cheek.

"can i kiss you?" he whispers.

I love you, and you are everything. You're the whole world. I would be honored to have you. — Luke.

"yes," you say back.

his lips meet yours, and you feel luke bloom with reddish-purple love. he kisses you like he's waited an eternity to do it, hungry, sloppy.

"i love you too," you murmur, and he laughs against your lips before kissing you again.

#— ash’s writing! #pjo #pjo imagine #pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #reader insert #fem reader #aphrodite!reader #fic writing #mutual pining

[sakkiichi]

KISS IT OFF ME.

Ice cream always tasted better when it was from his lips.

Kaedehara Kazuha x gn! reader.

genre/cw: pure fluff, modern au, childhood friends to lovers.

word count: 1.8k.

Your first memory of him tastes of cool strawberries.

You were six, and through teary eyes, you first spotted him outlined against the afternoon sun, his hand extended to you.

You had fallen from your brand new bike, your knee scraped and bleeding.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice asks.

You sob loudly, sitting on the pavement, your bicycle toppled over by your side.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says, offering you a hand.

You take it.

And when your cries die down, you’re convinced the boy before you is magical.

The softest eyes you’ve ever seen look back at you, rimmed by long lashes the color of starlight through clear clouds. His hair is like silken moonlight, a single vibrant red tuft sticking out, much like the setting sun behind him.

“Here,” the boy says, handing you a pink ice cream cone. “This will help you feel better.” He smiles, gently, closing your small hands around the cool cone.

You stare at him, enchanted, wondering who this boy that looks like an angel is and why do you feel so comforted next to him.

“My name is Kazuha, what’s your name?” He asks.

Through a mouthful of strawberry flavored sweetness, you introduce yourself.

“Then, I’m happy to know my new friend’s name, [Y/n].” The boy smiles again.

He seems to do that a lot. It’s nice. And you like the sound of your name when it comes from him.

While you hold your newly acquired ice cream, licking quickly to avoid it melting away, Kazuha picks up your bike, walking home beside you.

Under the stars that begin to illuminate the twilight sky, your friendship with your knight in shining armor is forged.

—

You are fifteen and nights are young and the summer seems endless.

A sea of city lights and distant stars hovers over you, as you sit on the rooftop.

Matching cookie ice cream cups in your hands, you and Kazuha share a comfortable quiet.

Silence with him always had that nature.

Taking the last spoonful, you lie down, over the baby blue blanket sprawled under you two.

You steal a glance in his direction, admiring the way the night breeze ruffles his hair and kisses his skin in ways you dream of every dawn.

He turns around, catching your gaze on him, pretty pink dusting his ears and cheeks.

“Is there anything on your mind?” Kazuha asks, clearing his throat.

You chuckle, his silhouette against a starry backdrop reflected in your eyes.

“Maybe…” You smile, taking his hand, tugging on it so he lies down with you.

“Mind telling me?” Your friend prompts, turning around to face you, his hand still in yours.

You hum, blinking against the starlight overhead.

“I hope that, ten years from now, we still have each other.” You utter, to him and the night.

Kazuha squeezes your hand, once to let you know he’s heard you, twice, his unspoken affirmation.

“We will.” He answers, with the constellations as witnesses of this unwritten pact. “That, I can promise.”

As the warm summer breeze wraps around you, your gaze helplessly orbits around Kazuha again.

Then, your sweet ice cream stained lips brush his cheek, a cool smudge in your wake, eliciting soft giggles from his lips, which you wish you could kiss instead.

“Thank you, Kazuha.” You breathe, closing your eyes, silver lined horizons announcing the approach of dawn.

—

Eighteen and you feel like you could stand on top of the world.

High school has finally ended and just in a few hours you’ll be taking your first steps into college.

Lady luck has smiled you this once, or perhaps it was fate, that landed you and your all-time friend Kazuha in the same college.

Friend.

That doesn’t even begin to cut it. There is no denying whatever’s going on between you two has gone past platonic for a while.

The last rays of the afternoon sun filter in through the windows of the apartment you’ll be sharing.

This moment, it reminds you of the day your path crossed Kazuha’s twelve years ago.

A small smile tugs at your lips at the memory, your eyes landing on Kazuha’s back as he carries a box with some of his belongings.

He is taller and stronger than back then, his hair considerably longer, tied back into a messy bun, droplets of sweat enticingly sliding down the back of his neck.

And yet, you still see the same kind angelic boy who rescued you with a strawberry ice cream in the scorching summer heat.

That gives you an idea.

With a fond smile, you head to the small kitchen, retrieving a tub of chocolate ice cream from the fridge.

“Kazuha,” you call him. “Why don’t we take a break? Here.” You show him the ice cream box, setting it on the cheap dining table.

“That certainly would be welcome, hummingbird.” He chuckles, wiping the sweat away from his brow with his forearm.

His white cotton t-shirt rides up his frame, exposing part of his recently inked maple themed tattoo.

You can’t deny the heat in your cheeks every time you see it, even though you were there with him when he got it.

“Say aaah.” You tease, offering Kazuha a spoonful of chilly chocolate.

His tempting lips take the spoon in his mouth, as his hand comes to rest over yours in the handle.

And all you can hear at that moment is your heartbeat loud in your ears.

The way he tucks his hair behind his ear with his free hand and the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks like flecks of moondust certainly are hypnotizing.

“Sweet.” Kazuha announces, once he’s swallowed the treat. “Your turn.” He prompts, burying the spoon in the cool sweet cream.

And yet, his eyes don’t leave yours.

And if you pay attention, they flit to your lips as the breeze outside ruffles the treetops, the sunlight filtering through them catching in the maple lakes reflected in Kazuha’s eyes.

And if you were aware of your own actions, you’d realize your gaze is magnetic on those lips that smile at you, that smiled at you all those years ago.

“Kazuha…” You manage, out of breath, your nose mere millimeters away from his.

He recites your name, his pupils blown in the molten sunsets of his gaze.

And then the collision of your mutual kiss makes your whole world stop spinning.

Kazuha’s hands cup your cheeks, his slightly calloused thumbs brushing against your skin, tracing patterns in verse, about the unrivaled love and care he holds for you, that he’s always held for you.

Your hands find themselves buried in his hair, gently tugging on the elastic holding it together, liquid stardust cascading over his shoulders.

The spoon clatters out of Kazuha’s grasp to the small table.

His lips are so sweet on yours, the chocolate flavor very much lingering, as you desperately, tentatively drink him in.

Kazuha and his smiles, his hugs, his poems and all the nights up by his side, every moment constellated and immortalized by the tender flames of innocent first love.

The sun sets, as the ice cream starts to melt and you keep kissing Kazuha for the first time.

Chocolate had never tasted so sweet.

—

Ten years have gone by since the promise he made on that summer night.

Your shift at work has just ended and you’re hurrying down the street, hoping you are not running too late or look too much like a mess.

Finally, the accorded ice cream parlor comes into view and there he stands.

Strands of hair seemingly weaved out of cottony clouds wisp around his face, some of them tied into a low side ponytail, the signature crimson strand almost glinting in the blue sky’s sun. One of his hands rests on his pants’ pocket, while the other waves at you, a new tattoo adorning his upper wrist now.

And as with the previous one, you were also there when he got it.

Doves. Because you were his.

You got maple leaves inked that time, on your wrist as well, they always reminded you of him.

Your gazes cross underneath the cerulean skies, and you quicken your steps.

“Kazuha!” You call, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, have you been waiting for long?”

Your boyfriend gives you a soft smile, tucking a rebel strand of hair away from your face.

His touch was always so gentle, since that day almost twenty years ago, when his outstretched hand pulled you up from the hard abrasive ground.

“Not at all.” Kazuha chuckles, hearth-like gaze dancing across your face. “I just got here, and no matter how long, I’ll always wait for you, my dove.” He utters, his forehead resting on yours, hands still lingering around your cheeks.

“You are too sweet, did you know that?” You whisper, inches apart.

He chuckles, that airy melodious sound you could never get tired of.

“Never as sweet as your presence.” He murmurs, his tender lips lingering on your temple.

As you gush over him, your cheeks ablaze, Kazuha’s hand finds yours; together, you head towards the ice cream shop, taking a sit on a secluded corner by the window.

Your matching vanilla ice creams arrive, yours, a cone, his, a cup.

“Do you still remember, Kazu?” You ask, tasting the sweet treat, refreshing you from the heat outside. “The first time we met?”

“Strawberry.” He answers, autumn eyes soft on yours. “I gave you strawberry ice cream.”

Your eyes widen, a bashful smile tugging at your lips.

“You still remember that detail?”

“I could never forget, even if I tried.” Kazuha’s free hand finds yours over the table, cool thumb from holding the ice cream tracing soothing circles over the back of your hand. “Cookies, the night we promised to stay together always.” A gentle squeeze. “Chocolate, our first kiss.” He brings your hand to his lips, the most tender kiss this world has seen landing on your skin, his warm gaze never once leaving yours.

You can feel your face heating up, droplets of vanilla sliding down the cookie cone.

You hurry up to salvage them before they can coat your fingers, perhaps as an excuse to compose yourself.

Then, tender fingers caress your jaw, slightly calloused.

“May I have a taste, my hummingbird?”

“Kazuha, you ordered the exact same flavor.”

“Not exactly the same.” He utters, leaning to kiss the ice cream off your lips.

And no matter what flavor you were having, none was as sweet as the feeling of those lips of his that often spoke in flowers, enveloping yours so tenderly. Kazuha’s kisses feel like fiery passion in soothing autumn waves, flakes of golden light overshadowing the world around you, making you forget about rainy stormy days.

You kiss him back, with as much fervor, a leaf desperately clinging to a tree branch on a late summer breeze.

Kazuha’s hand holding yours feels the stickiness of melted vanilla pooling on your fingers.

He hopes he can replace it by the ring safely tucked on his pocket very soon.

“Mine’s not as sweet.” Are your poet’s words when you two pull away, hands and gazes still linked.

And you can’t help but agree that ice cream did indeed always taste better with his lips on yours.

#kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fanfics #kazuha imagines #kazuha fanfic #kazuha fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact scenarios #kazuha scenarios #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact

[mindblowingscience]

Japan is on track to beam solar power from space to Earth next year, two years after a similar feat was achieved by U.S. engineers. The development marks an important step toward a possible space-based solar power station that could help wean the world off fossil fuels amid the intensifying battle against climate change.  Speaking at the International Conference on Energy from Space, held here this week, Koichi Ijichi, an adviser at the Japanese research institute Japan Space Systems, outlined Japan's road map toward an orbital demonstration of a miniature space-based solar power plant that will wirelessly transmit energy from low Earth orbit to Earth.

Continue Reading.

#Japan #Solar Energy #Solar Power #astronomy #Space #stem

[dxckgrxsonx]

Can we talk about how Dick would just love to eat pussy though 🤌🏻 He keeps you pinned down by the hips, head buried between your thighs and says he's going to keep you just like that until *he's* done 🤤

Pairing - Dick Grayson X (F) Reader Words - 1.4K Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Oral Sex (Female Receiving) - Mean!Dick - Slight Degradation - Overstimulation. Notes - Stop stop I'm already dead. Hfudhfuhf i’m never going to recover from this. I am respectfully resting in everything but peace. I am resting disrespectfully. I’m resting like a whore.

**

Sometimes you think he was born at the centre of a dying star.

Birthed in the face of something powerful, something beautiful, something unbelievably explosive. You think he’s one-in-a-million, utterly unique, bleeds compassion and patience and embodies everything good in the world. Think he took all the qualities of a supernova and wrapped himself in it, curled into its embrace and refused to leave. Became someone bright and alive and deadly.

You don’t blame yourself for being swept into his orbit, never would have been able to resist his pull. Dick Grayson is larger than life itself, holds your beating heart in the palm of his hands. To love him is a privilege, to hold him between your own two hands is something precious, something rare.

And when he loves you back, you think you understand how he was born. All that weight and energy collapsing in on itself to create something incomprehensible, something bright and burning and without words.

You’ll love him for the rest of your life if he lets you.

Providing he doesn’t kill you by sending you into cardiac arrest first.

Voice slurred with sleep, you call out into the dark, “Wha–?”

There’s warm hands sliding between your knees, nudging them apart and rousing you from sleep. You blink through the dark, disbelieving and swimming in confusion. Pressing your hand over the top of the covers your fingers trace the outline of broad shoulders.

“Sweetheart,” Dick croaks from between your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs and forcing them apart. “Baby, wanna taste you, miss eating your pretty pussy.”

Pressing his mouth against your inner thigh Dick drags his tongue over the sensitive skin, forcing your back to arch into his firm hands. Biting on the soft flesh he walks the pads of his fingers up and over your hips, slips under your shirt to paw at your breasts.

“Dick,” You mewl, dipping your hands under the covers to sweep through his hair. “What are you doing? It’s four in the morning.”

Pinching at your nipple you shudder, goosebumps rippling down your arms and across your stomach. Dick smiles against your skin, clever mouth steadily working its way up your leg. Stopping at your underwear he presses his tongue over the fabric, gets it damp; sticks it to the wet lips of your cunt.

“Shh,” He says, “Can’t I eat my girl out? Don’t you want me to lick your pussy?”

Groaning under your breath you swear, “You’re fucking insatible.”

“S’not my fault you taste so good, sweetheart.”

Hooking his arms around your thighs he drags you down the bed, tilts your hips so you’re spread out beneath his pretty mouth. Licking along the wet fabric of your underwear from entrance to clit you whine and try to rock your hips up for more pressure, unsatisfied with the barrier.

Clamping his hands around your hips Dick forces you to remain still, uses the strength in his arms to hold you down. Sucking at your throbbing clit through your underwear you throw your head back and try to clamp your thighs around his head. You feel him grin against you before he starts tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with his tongue.

Moaning desperately, your fingers tighten in his hair, “Please take them off.” 

“I don’t know sweetheart, if you can’t handle it with them on, m’not sure I should be taking them off. Maybe I should keep them on, make you come in them instead.”

“No.” You whine, shaking your head and tugging at his hair. “I can barely feel anything. Please–please take them off.”

Ignoring your pleas Dick goes back to pressing his tongue against your clit, sweeping it back and forth, sucking it between his lips and making it twitch. Trying to guide his head where you want it most he growls and moves one hand to slap your inner thigh.

Arching violently you whimper, “Dick–baby, please…you’re being mean.”

Pulling his mouth away he slaps your pussy and you jolt, “M’not being mean, you’re just being pathetic.”

Choking on a fractured breath you try to twist and kick him in the side, but Dick is quick enough to catch your leg and pin it to the mattress. An amused chuckle rumbles through his chest at your frustration and he hovers over your underwear, not quite touching, just letting his breath blow over the fabric.

Pulling at his hair you grumble, “Dick, I swear to fucking god if you keep teasing me like this i’ll–”

Sinking his teeth into your inner thigh he bites down hard enough to leave a perfect indent of his teeth behind. Licking over the marks as you tremble in his hold he spreads your legs wider, leans more of his weight against you to stop you fidgeting.

“You’ll what, sweetheart?” He teases, voice touching the edge of cruel. “I don’t think you can do much of anything other than take what I give you. And believe me, I won’t be giving you very much if you keep this up.”

Tears burn at the backs of your eyes. Making an effort to relax you try to control the reflective thrust of your hips as Dick goes back to sucking at your clit. Moaning quietly your fingers shake against his scalp as he drags his tongue over the throbbing little nub. Wetness soaks into your underwear and Dick groans as your taste seeps through.

Finally hooking his thumbs into the elastic of your underwear he tugs them down your legs, allowing you to lift your hips to slide them off. Burying his face into your pussy he gives you a long, slow lick from leaking hole to swollen clit, collecting your wetness on his tongue as he goes.

Without the barrier you feel every stroke of his talented mouth and you moan, muscles twitching with the urge to grind up against his face. Slipping your clit between his lips he sucks, lavishing attention on it with his tongue.

“Ah–fuck.” You cry out, “Dick, please, don’t stop, s’good.”

Removing one hand from over your hip he teases your entrance, rubbing the pads of his fingers over your soaking hole. Waiting for your slick to drip over his hand he traces letters on your clit, measuring your reactions to each one. Pushing forwards he slides two fingers into your cunt, up to the second knuckle. Crooking his fingers he slowly starts to fuck you, settling into a steady rythym that has you quaking.

Sweeping the hair from his eyes you arch your back, press your hips up towards his mouth, “Oh, Dick please. I’m–m’gonna…”

Pressing the flat of his tongue to your clit he gives it long, hard licks, letting you feel every intentional twitch of his mouth. Moaning into your pussy Dick grinds his hips into the bed. Your wet walls clamp around his fingers, knowing he’s hard and grinding his cock into the mattress.

Grinding up against his mouth you fight his firm grip as he tries to hold you still. The strength in his arms makes you feel lightheaded, maybe even intoxicated, fingers touching up against the edge of bruising.

“M’gonna come,” You babble, eyes slipping closed. “Please don’t stop, m’so so close.”

Your limbs lock up, thighs tensing for a solid few seconds as you dangle on the bleeding edge of orgasm. Dick wraps his lips around your hard, throbbing clit and sucks, one, twice, three times and you cry out, voice reverberating around the apartment.

There’s a desperate twitch of your clit in his mouth, cunt spasming around Dick’s nimble fingers as you come. Licking and sucking you through your climax his fingers keep sliding in and out of you, even though your slick gushes around his hand and drips onto the sheets.

“Hng–Dick.” You whine, trying to push his head away. “S-stop, s’too much. M’too sensitive.”

He pulls away for a split second, looks up at you from between your legs, eyes almost black and smirks.

“Oh baby,” He drawls, “M’gonna keep going until i’m done. This isn’t about you. If you can’t handle it then too bad, I don’t care. I’ll make your pretty pussy come until i’m finished. All you need to do is lay there and take it.”

**

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader smut #dick grayson smut drabble #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing x reader smut #nightwing smut drabble #nightwing smut #asks #answered #ella writes #it’s after 4am #I am going directly to bed #goodnighttt

[im-not-corrupted]

A sequel to this Dreamling fic here, though this can be read as a standalone. Written for @merry-moody-missy, who requested I write more and get the two of them together. Also, thanks to @samsalami66​, who gave me a prompt (that felt more like a fic outline, but that’s great too XD) for this fic.

Edit: Part one and two are now on Ao3!

--------

Dream came to him more often, after that.

Once a month became once a fortnight. He wasn’t half as reserved these days as he typically was; if anything, he seemed to be even more comfortable in Hob’s presence, now. It was rather wonderful to witness for Hob, who, for the longest time, knew Dream only as his distant Stranger. A far star, unreachable. A sun for him to orbit, but a sun who would only bless him with light once a century.

Every two weeks, Dream appeared beside him at some point in the day. It didn’t matter where; he’d often appear at the back of Hob’s classes while he was working, entirely unnoticed by his students. Or he would materialise next to him and fall into step as Hob walked home, content to follow in silence, or to listen as Hob recounted his day.

The first time he did that, stepping up next to Hob when the space beside him had been previously empty—well, the first time scared him half to death, naturally. That simply wasn’t the kind of thing one grew to expect, even after living for nearly seven centuries.

(He didn’t care. In fact, Hob looked upon that day with fondness, a grin upon his face, because that was the first time he’d heard Dream laugh.

He didn’t have a particular lovely laugh. It wasn’t melodic, or sweet. It wasn’t the kind of thing you expected to be a sound of joy at all, really—if Hob tried his best, he’d only be able to describe it as an awful, croaking thing, terrifying and perhaps the least lovely thing he’d heard before—but Hob didn’t care at all, because Dream laughed.

Loudly, and without abandon. Rosebud lips had spread wide in a smile that stole Hob’s heart entirely, and the joy in his eyes was unmatched. There, stood in the middle of a London street with laughter in his face and sunlight catching his stray hairs—well, he was beautiful, and Hob found himself falling.)

(No. No, that wasn’t true. He found himself falling for Dream a long time ago. He was already so far gone for him; hearing him laugh had merely made him fall further, and he hadn’t known such a thing was possible.)

Today, Dream appeared in his apartment—only, this time, he did so before Hob was about to sleep.

Which…wasn’t a problem. Not at all. Sleep didn’t matter, not when Dream was there. He would gladly drop anything and everything, if Dream wanted him to. If his friend wanted his time and his energy. All of it was his anyway; he needed only to ask.

(And he did ask, these days. Indirectly, naturally—Matthew somehow gained the job of messenger raven, and would often fly to the Waking world for the sole purpose of seeing Hob and delivering a message.

The message was usually short. A quick, Boss asks if you’re free today?, and Hob would reply, Let him know I am before quickly cancelling his plans.

Dream still didn’t ask for what he needed. But he still asked, in a round-about Dream kind of way, and Hob? Hob was proud of him. He remembered all too easily the pain on his face when he thought he burdened Hob with his affections; he could only imagine what it took for his friend to be able to ask whether he was busy or not, after that.)

“Dream,” he said, blinking at the being who materialised at the foot of his bed. To his credit, his heart didn’t so much as stutter, proof that he was used to Dream simply appearing out of nowhere. Proof that they truly were friends, now, after so many centuries of him wanting exactly that.

(They were friends. He couldn’t quite believe it, sometimes. They were friends, and Dream didn’t shy away from that title when Hob gave it to him. If anything, he seemed proud of it, like the title of ‘friend’ was an honour.)

(It certainly was for Hob, at least, so he understood that.)

Dream stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly, cat-like. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see Hob underneath his duvet, which—seemed fair. He still didn’t have much of a clue what Dream was, for it didn’t matter, but he knew now that it had to do with a place called the Dreaming—his realm, which certainly gave Hob a bit of an existential crisis the first time he heard that—and sleep. Perhaps he had a second sense for when people were about to sleep. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing Hob had seen him do.

”Hob,” he said, then frowned. Some of that old hesitance kept him from saying much else for a moment, but he eventually asked, “I did not think…Is this a bad time?”

Progress, Hob thought, and shot a grin in his friend’s direction. Dream was making progress, small and still so, so important, and he was simply glad to be a part of it. “Not at all,” he promised, because this was Dream. Dream, who owned his heart entirely by this point, who Hob would gladly dedicate every waking moment of his days to if he could. If his friend would appreciate that, if he would even want that.

That hesitance held him in place for a second longer, but that was all. His floor-length, high-collared coat disappeared, shadow replacing the impossibly soft material of it before vanishing entirely, leaving Dream in a long-sleeved top (black, of course) that felt so casual on him.

(He’d seen Dream without his coat many times before, now. Another testament to the fact that Dream felt comfortable—safe, even—with him. It still startled him, though, and it never failed to make warmth bloom behind his ribs. This—this vulnerability, his desire to abandon armour when with Hob—was another display of trust, and Hob wouldn’t get over that any time soon.

Dream trusted him. It was a fragile thing, that trust, not at all suited for Hob’s bloodied and calloused hands. He’d had many years to practise gentleness, though, and he used it with this; with Dream’s trust, a gift offered so painstakingly.)

And then Dream was moving, climbing onto the bed and tucking himself into Hob’s side. One half of his body ended up entirely on top of Hob’s, his face buried into the crook of his neck, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

It tickled the skin of his neck a little, but Hob hardly cared. How could he, when he turned his head to the side and found himself face to face with Dream’s feather-soft hair, when Dream’s arm came to wrap around his waist?

He chuckled softly. His heart felt so full, all of a sudden, his fondness for this strange and lovely creature lay on top of him almost overwhelming. There wasn’t enough room behind his rib cage for it all, for the adoration pouring from his heart in waves. He brushed his fingers through Dream’s feather-soft hair, the smile on his face growing wider as his friend burrowed further into him, and, without thinking, he said gently, “Yeah, dove, I love you too. And I missed you dearly.”

Missed you dearly wasn’t quite enough. It didn’t explain the way he missed Dream like an ache, in those two weeks he was off doing whatever the ruler of an entire realm did. But it was true enough, so he let the words hang in the air. Dream deserved to know he was missed when he wasn’t around; deserved to know Hob thought about him, even in the louder moments where his head was so busy. Missed you dearly didn’t quite fit, but it said enough.

It was only when Dream’s head snapped up in a movement faster than anything Hob had seen from him before, ocean eyes almost comically wide and lips parted slightly, that Hob realised what he said.

I love you too. It wasn’t a lie. He didn’t think he was capable of that, even subconsciously, when it came to Dream. Always, his heart has been laid bare before him, every little thing it contained inside free for his viewing. Hob made little attempt to keep it hidden. His fondness, his adoration, always slipped into his voice unbidden. Experience told him every attempt to mask it would fall short; there was simply too much to keep it trapped behind his ribs. It was always his friend’s choice whether or not he took it at face value or not.

He did love Dream. Loved him like he loved life; endlessly, with more depth than he thought himself capable of putting into words. Though he wasn’t much of a poet, he would try, if Dream asked that of him. He would do much for his dearest friend, his Stranger, if only he asked.

”Love me,” Dream murmured softly. He sounded almost disbelieving, as though he hadn’t thought of himself as something able to be loved. That thought rang too true for Hob’s comfort; he had to stop himself from holding Dream closer, unwilling to make him uncomfortable in an attempt to offer comfort. “You have. Said this before.”

Not in quite so many words, Hob thought, but yes. He had. Never apologise for wanting to be loved, he told Dream, and that was another admittance in and of itself, wasn’t it? It was an I love you, and I’m happy to do so, and a request; Let me love you, I want, it was always yours anyway.

Fear coiled in his stomach, a poison almost potent enough to stop him from answering entirely. But he met Dream’s gaze and saw the impression of new stars within them; he met his eyes and saw a fragile kind of hope. Fear or not, his dearest friend deserved to know he was loved.

“Yes,” he answered gently. Perhaps he’d run, now, leave Hob as he had in 1889. That, Hob thought, would be alright. It’d hurt, but it’d be alright. Dream would come back to him, just as he had once every month before, and now every fortnight. That knowledge was just enough to make the worst of that fear melt away, and to loosen his tongue. “I love you dearly. With everything I am. Doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to—I don’t want anything from you that you aren’t willing to give, I promise you that.”

A furrow appeared between his friend’s brow. That hope didn’t leave his eyes, even despite the confusion that joined it. “Why would you tell me this, then, if you did not want reciprocation from me?”

Hob ached, suddenly, at the confusion in Dream’s voice. Had nobody loved him without expectation before? Had nobody loved him simply for the sake of loving him, because they couldn’t do anything else? “Let me rephrase,” he said gently, and he sat up. Dream frowned further at being disturbed, though said frown disappeared fast enough when Hob cupped his face. “I would kill to have you feel the same for me. It would be so many centuries of pining resolved in a mere moment; I would love for nothing more than you to love me back. But I don’t expect you to. I didn’t tell you I love you expecting you to say the same. I told you I love you simply because you deserve to hear it; nothing more, nothing less.”

Silence hung heavy between them for a moment, in which Dream simply stared at him without moving a muscle at all and Hob grew increasingly conscious about the fact that he was still very much holding Dream’s face in his hands.

He was about ready to let go, no doubt followed by an awkward apology, but Dream said slowly, “You are. A strange creature, Hob Gadling. I continuously find myself baffled by you.”

Quietly, Hob laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment then, love.” His hands fell from Dream’s face, only for his friend to catch them by his wrists.

”And,” Dream continued, slow and stilted, and Hob froze. Dream’s skin against his, not quite a normal body temperature, was different when initiated by Dream himself. It meant more, somehow. “And. You are not alone. In your feelings.”

Hob was fairly sure his heart stopped in his chest at that. Just for a moment. In his defence, this moment did feel particularly heart stopping. Important enough to fling his own world off its axis.

When he found himself capable of thought again, he asked, barely able to contain the joy pouring from his heart in waves, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Dream?”

”I am saying,” he said heavily, severely, like this moment was as important to him as it was to Hob, “that I adore you, Hob Gadling. That you are a comfort I did not expect to find. That your arms are a place of safety, that I find comfort in your presence, that you are a fresh breath of air after so long spent underwater. I am saying that your continued friendship is an honour, one I am eternally grateful for; I am saying that you baffle me entirely, your joy for life and your willingness to love me, and that love is too small a term to label the depths of my feelings towards you, but it is enough for now.”

Hob stared at him, wide-eyed. His heart spilled over, everything it contained too much, and all of it Dream’s. All of it, shared by Dream, too. “Christ, love,” he said, his voice light with elation. A sob caught in his chest as his hand, still held by the wrist in Dream’s grasp, came up to play with the raven hair at the nape of his friend’s neck, as he pulled Dream into a kiss.

It was gentle. Barely a hint of pressure at all, for fear he’d perhaps misunderstood. But Dream made a noise against his lips, surprised yet pleased, and kisses back eagerly, an answer to a question Hob didn’t realise he’d asked.

Eventually, though everything in him screamed against it, too lost in the sensation of Dream’s mouth against his own and Dream’s hands clutching at the thin top he wore for bed, he pulled back for breath. Dream gazed at him, eyes so dark they were almost black. Hob could see the stars so clearly, now, and found himself breathless for another reason entirely.

Awed, he said, ”You’re beautiful.” His thumb stroked the skin underneath Dream’s eye, reverent and worshipful, and Dream practically preened.

At some point, he lay back down, taking his friend—Dream, his Stranger, who he had loved for centuries and who loved him in return—with him. He tucked himself against Hob’s side, knee wedges between Hob’s legs and an arm thrown over his waist. The duvet was pulled over up to both their shoulders, and Hob let himself kiss the crown of his head.

He needed to sleep. He was tired, his head a little foggy. But elation kept his chest light, and there was enough joy in his veins to last a lifetime. They’d have to talk tomorrow, Hob knew that, but they’d figure that out.

For now, this—this was enough. More than enough.

”I love you,” he said again. His eyes slipped shut. 

Sleep would come difficult, with the way his heart felt so full, but that was alright. A small price to pay for the way Dream shifted against him before pressing feather-soft lips against his cheek, whispering, “And I you, beloved,” before settling back in place again.

Hob slept eventually. And when he did, he dreamt of Dream.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream/hob #the sandman netflix #eris writes things #my fic #dreamling fic

[infinite-orangepeel]

“get too close to your muse & you, the artist, will lose all ability to decipher one shade from the next on your palette. keep your distance…”

fall quarter begins at the curly roots of eddie munson’s ineffable head, runs its’ labyrinthian course through passageways of blue veins & black ink, & ends at a set of hairy crimson painted toes.

steve finds himself squandering every waking moment of his lifeblood & attention somewhere, egregiously, in the middle.

“say you’re drawing a bed of flowers,” his professor lectured a few weeks back, “what happens if you put your nose in the middle of those flowers & try to recreate the details on your canvas? you come up with color and shape, sure, but it’s blurry—isn’t it? it’s a big blobby blur of nothing. that’s not very good life drawing, i’m afraid.”

flash forward to the present—

the bed is firm but comfortable. reminding you of its’ presence.

it doesn’t encourage daydreaming &, yet, steve is ignoring the better advice of his mentor & pressing his curious nose directly into the bud of an all too striking flower.

he knows the intimate contact could kill the rose, is aware of the thorns lining the stem, but he can’t stay away.

he’s struck by fear and temptation and self-loathing and a beauty that stings like a slap across the face.

eddie’s his roommate, his friend, his muse for the most important project of steve’s career as an art student.

& getting too close is lethal, so he creates a sort of optical illusion.

designs an environment in which he can pretend they are star-crossed lovers in a broken world that won’t let them be together. in which touch is a small death each and every time.

steve flits to eddie like a dragonfly to water—

never touching.

never spending too much time in his orbit before making up an excuse to leave & jerk off to the smell of old cigarettes in the bathroom.

everything he really wants to say sits in the back of his throat like a painful, malignant lump & gets spat out onto his sketchbook in a tragically romantic exorcism.

doing the dishes next to him is enough to drive him insane.

drawing him, butt-naked, is another story.

“is it supposed to be so….erotic?”

eddie arches an eyebrow as steve traces the outline of his cock into his sketchbook.

“it’s not that erotic,” steve says, blushing into his charcoals, “besides no one will know it’s you. it’s art.”

art is supposed to be weird & naked. now, hold still, & let me draw you.”

it’s definitely erotic.

there are roses—de-thorned, for safety—shrouding eddie’s dick & leaving a trail of pink petals across his pale thighs.

eddie’s hand is draped over his head; exuding a certain brattiness, lust, boredom—

as if he’s lying there because he wants someone, like steve, to stumble upon him & use his body the way it so clearly needs to be.

his lips are parted on the precipice of whispering some filthy secret into steve’s ear while milking him like a simple farm girl with nothing better to do.

fuck.

he can’t be this close to eddie without losing his mind.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

it’s just a body. just limbs and a huge cock and—

eddie’s quiet for a little while which is rare for him, before he pipes up again.

“what if we painted the flowers together?”

steve wipes the sweat from his brow, drops his pencil, and looks up at eddie across the mattress. working overtime to avoid staring at the erection sticking out amongst the bouquet of roses.

“the piece isn’t supposed to be very colorful. i’m going for muted tones. that’s why i picked the pale pinks and whites.”

eddie giggles a little and, it’s so cute, steve has to pinch his own thigh through his shorts just to maintain composure.

“i don’t think you’re understanding—the colors wouldn’t change much. except for some more white, if you catch my drift,” eddie pumps his hand over his cock several times and mimes cumming stop the petals, “might look cool. might get you extra points with that asshole professor of yours. you’ve said he likes ‘shock value.’”

“i—i guess you’re right. that’s a pretty….different and unique….um….idea. yeah.”

it’s like this that steve strips naked and clambers as close to eddie as he can possibly get without laying a finger on him. adhering to the rules—keeping a particular distance between artist & muse.

they lay side by side. sunlight streaming in through the blinds & bathing eddie’s spindly fingers in gold as he touches himself.

“harrington, don’t act like you haven’t been dreaming about this since day one,” eddie snarks, “i’ve seen the way you look at me, sweetheart. your eyes are gonna burn holes in my ass if you’re not careful. touch that pretty cock of yours, lemme see you.”

before steve can do anything about it or change his mind, he’s got a fist wrapped around his own cock and the other hand pinching his nipples. left and right, back and forth, dragging his nails through the hair sprouting around them.

“didn’t think you thought about me like that,” steve whines, watching as eddie edges himself methodically—

moving faster, slower, squeezing at the base, thumbing over the slit, cupping his balls, slapping the insides of his own thighs until they match the pink petals.

“i like a little pain,” he comments when he catches steve’s wide eyes, “and i’ve always was hallucinating the first time i walked into this room and saw you on the bed—thought i was going into the light and seeing an angel.”

“you’re so full of it.”

“i’d like to be full of you,” eddie breathes against steve’s neck, not allowing his lips to pass the barrier, “but i don’t know if you can handle me, big boy. you’re blushing like a nervous little schoolgirl.”

“am not—”

“are too, &, you’re about to cum just listening to my voice. it’s so crystal clear. look at you—fucking yourself so stupid.”

eddie looks so beautiful.

laying there like a forsaken god locked out of heaven.

steve’s been so good about keeping his hands to himself, about keeping his nose out of the flowers, but desire and temptation are stronger than any amount of remaining willpower he has.

he grabs eddie’s shoulder with his freehand & kisses him until they’re both seeing stars.

celestial explosions of pleasure & truth & this thing that’s been growing violently between them since the moment they first met.

“i’m cumming. i’m gonna—fuck steve, it’s gonna be on the flowers—i hope that’s okay—”

they cum in tandem over petals of pink and white and thornless stems.

steve gets an A+.

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[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been acting cagey for weeks, a fact you hadn't had the heart to address since Maddie's disappearance. but with his dubious return to school and how he loitered in the periphery of Nicole and Simon's orbit, you thought it was about time to get answers. too bad one pale, cow-eyed jock had other plans.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

i had some serious technical issues with these parts, so my fingers are crossed that everything worked!

bon reading, frens

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OCTOBER SUN pt.5

You felt foolish, dressed like a Parisian cat burglar, but you hadn't exactly spent your night strategizing how to avoid Wally Clark come morning. Instead, you'd pored over several small, ratty books that outlined possible explanations for human-ghost attraction.

Not the kind of attraction that makes your heart beat love songs, but the kind that draws elements together. The scientific kind that had nothing to do with what the shape of Wally's mouth might feel like against various pulse points.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on your side. You'd managed to slip from one class to the next unnoticed, only seeing the shy boy with the glasses and the spacey girl who roosted atop the library return bins. No towering athlete with big hands and bedroom eyes.

Jesus, girl, get a grip, you chided yourself in a voice that eerily resembled Mathilda's.

Mathilda, who you'd managed to waylay that morning by dragging her into the girls' bathroom and holding her hostage until Xavier had texted you the OK. Mathilda who'd spent the time before and after History barking insults at people who'd thought it'd been a good idea to share their opinions of Xavier aloud.

What she lacked in height, she sure as hell made up for in loyalty and intimidation. Qualities you admired and wished you could emulate. If Mathilda had chaotic, ancestral ghost powers, she wouldn't let herself be pushed around by the idea of a ghost getting the better of her.

No. She'd probably browbeat the ghost into submission and get on with her day. No swarms or storms or ectoplasmic squalls; no mother eventually stepping in to fix her daughter's mistake, cursing I told you over and over again because, yeah, she had. Sadly, Mathilda didn't share your abilities and couldn't chase Wally away on your behalf.

Frustrated, you shoved the hood of your uncle's sweater over your head and yanked the drawstrings, encasing yourself in a void of soft fabric.

It sucked. You didn't want Wally chased away. You just wanted him never to figure out that you could see, hear, or wholly and completely interact with him...Which would result in him eventually giving up or losing interest and never seeking you out again, as he'd done in your sophomore year. And you wanted that even less.

When had 'don't tell anyone' become so complicated?

Naturally, you didn't want to get your mother involved. Were wholeheartedly determined to weather the storm alone. Had been doing a decent enough job of it until yesterday, despite some minor missteps here and there. But if Wally remained steadfast in his promise ("I'm not going anywhere until you admit it"), she'd find out—she always found out—and you'd never see him again. Poof. Gone. Disintegrated into the ether; his beautiful, summer-sun soul vanished from the earth as if he'd never existed.

You couldn't let that happen.

"How's the undercover operation?" Xavier's voice penetrated the dead air from somewhere above you.

You groaned in response, loosened your hood and pushed it off to stare up at him, likely making a pitiful picture with staticky hair and a pout.

He prompted you with a twitch of an eyebrow, you rolled your eyes; he grinned, you untucked your knees from your chest and opened yourself up to invite Xavier to sit with you on the library floor.

"Who are you hiding from, again?" He asked, making himself comfortable across from you between the shelves of autobiographies—the section furthest from the door.

You teased him with a delicate smile, "No questions, remember?"

"Normally, I'd respect the hell out of that, but I feel like I should be concerned." He regarded you carefully, eyes flitting between yours as if he could summon your secrets through them. "I don't have to kick the shit out of anyone, do I?"

"I love you, Zav, and, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the thought," You really did, "but, trust me, it's not that deep."

"Okay...and how many lunches do you plan to have in the back of the library?"

"As many as I need to." You replied vaguely. He bit his lip to stop a smile and nodded. "I'm good, Xavier, I swear. I just need some space right now." You weren't going to fabricate a lie for him. Anyone else, yeah, water off a duck's back, but Xavier? It toed a line you weren't comfortable crossing.

While not entirely placated by your statement, Xavier respected it, getting back to his feet and shouldering his backpack. As he was about to round the bookshelf and leave you to your business, he paused.

"You'd tell me, right?" He peered at you over his shoulder, "If things were bad...you'd tell me?"

Without hesitation, "Yes," you assured and meant it in your bones.

His expression relaxed, "Thanks."

Xavier didn't leave the library altogether, simply walked away to give you the space you'd said you needed.

For awhile, you occupied yourself with homework—notebook in your lap and Frankenstein open beside you—taking advantage of your free period to catch up on what you'd put aside last night. It would've been a good use of your time, except...your uncooperative brain kept ambling back to Wally. To his puppysoft brown eyes; his cocky, boyish grin. Then to how he'd glided his fingers up your spine and had made your blood surge.

Shit. God. No. Stop that!

Growling inwardly, you shifted to your knees, notebook sliding to the floor, and grabbed your backpack. Dragged it toward you so you could pack up and find another place to sequester yourself. A change of scenery might help prevent your brain from tap dancing into very bad no good territory.

The pen you'd been using had rolled away when you'd repositioned yourself, now sat at the end of the aisle. Standing, you went to get it when you heard someone who sounded a lot like Nicole mutter an apology. Peeking around the bookshelf, you caught sight of her as she hurried out of the library, phone in hand and boldness in her stride.

What's that about?

Before you could apprehend it, you saw movement in the corner of your eye. Xavier reshelved the book he'd been flipping through and made a hasty exit, clearly intending to follow Nicole.

Well. Now you had to know. You swooped over to your backpack, double-checked that you hadn't forgetting anything, and strolled as fast as you dared after them.

Completely unaware that, beyond the school walls, the specter you'd cosplayed Sid Vicious to avoid was gleefully running amok.

💀___________________________

PART FOUR - PART SIX

note: next part is all Wally being about as subtle as a neon sign 💀 he's too cute, i need to give the babe hugs and snugs and dry smacky kisses all over his lil' face 💕 but that's a PART SEVEN problem 😏

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