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eluxcastar · 2 months

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Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat.

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it.

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

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allfearstofallto · 2 months

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Hey girl found your blog and loving it so far

Can I request a yandere alhaitham forcing a marriage while making it seems he is not (does that even make sense 😭)

Hi friend! I could be wrong, but I think you're asking to be gaslit and manipulated. In which case, I got you.

It's What You Wanted

Yandere! Alhaitham x Reader

The papers in front of you had this foreboding energy around them, like you were doing something wrong, even though it was something you agreed to. Or maybe it was the ramifications of them, the papers themselves weren't scary, they were just pages after all, but it was what they meant. What they represented for you.

His name was already signed on one side in his usual neat, cursive penmanship. The other line lay blank, empty, and waiting for your name next. Your name. You. It was just waiting for you to finish it.

“Well?” He questioned into the silence that sat over the both of you. He was always so nonchalant and today was no different. One leg crossed on the other and a book sat over his knee, keeping the pages open for him to begin reading again. He was treating this as if it wasn't a major decision for him, life changing even, but that energy suited his character.

You picked up the pen, but it felt heavy in your hand and you trembled, making you sit it back down, “Don't you think this is a bit of a bad decision, Alhaitham?” You questioned with a little sweat on your brow.

“You're the one who came up with the idea,” he retorted.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but shut it again. What he was talking about was an offhanded comment you'd made at the table a few days ago. After a night of drinking and complaining about having to return home, at the wishes of your mother and father, you drunkenly complained on and on about your problems. Once your term was over at the academia, they expected you to be on your way back home, despite your wishes to stay.

Your parents, being the old fashioned people that they were, wouldn't listen to your word, but the word of your husband? That's what mattered most in the world to them. You muttered something about actually wishing you were married for once, how it'd make it easier for your parents to actually listen to you, but didn't say much else.

You remembered seeing Alhaitham raise an eyebrow over the cover of his book at that and take another small sip of his drink, but other than that, nothing more was said about the comment. Not until now.

“But…would this even be okay with you? This is marriage,” you tried to press the importance of this to him, but his green eyes didn't even seem phased. He was always so hard to read, unless he outright said it, you never knew what he was thinking.

“You want to stay, don't you?” His words made your stomach drop. He was right, you did want to stay. You wanted to live in Sumeru for as long as possible. You wanted to keep studying and learning. You wanted to be close to your friends.

“I do, but…”

“You should just sign it,” he pushed the paper on the table closer to you once more, “It’s better you do this with me than some random guy who'll just use this against you. Think logically.”

You sighed and looked down at the blank space. Your name was to go there, but your hesitance was eating you alive. This didn't feel right. The idea, while a fun one in theory, was one that you wouldn't be able to get yourself out of easily.

Before you had the chance to think about it more, the page was picked up. Your eyes followed it as he held it in his hands and stood from the table. He didn't look at you once as he did this, the lack of acknowledgement making your heart drop to your stomach.

“What are you doing?” You questioned rather hurriedly, surprising even yourself.

“Destroying this,” was all he said, a hint of boredom in his voice again, “It's obvious that you want to go back home with your parents, so there's no reason to keep it around. I can't risk anyone taking it and having my signature.”

The speed at which everything was happening made your mind spiral out of control. All the emotions you were feeling swirled together, crashing inside your head until all that was left was fear. Fear of having to leave, fear of losing your freedom, the fear that your last chance was just going to walk away.

“No! Wait!” You shouted and Alhaitham stopped in his tracks, “I'll- I'll sign it.” The words felt like an anchor on your chest, but you knew they were what you had to do. He was right. You didn't want to go back to your parents.

He placed the page back in front of you, but instead of sitting back down, he stood beside you. His large body hovered over yours, casting a shadow that felt even more ominous. You could feel the heat coming off of him making your skin prickle up with goosebumps.

Alhaitham picked up the pen for you, his touch was gentle as he handed it to you. His finger tips brushed across yours, his touch lingering a bit longer than it should've.

Your hand shook the entire time you wrote. Your name was scribbled, but it was yours. You'd signed it. You thought you'd breathe a sigh of relief, of joy knowing that you'd done it, you'd secured your freedom, but instead you still felt that suffocating pressure.

He picked the paper up before you could change your mind, “I'll get this registered,”

“But we'll get it annulled after talking to my parents, right?” You asked a bit neverously, a feeling of dread sinking it.

“Sure,” he responded, it sounded like his usual monotone voice or at least he was trying to make it seem that way. He was still facing away from you, so you didn't know for sure, but a part of you could swear you were hearing a smirk in his voice.

#genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x you #yandere alhaitham #yandere Alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x reader

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austinsastrology8991 · 10 months

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> moon in houses <

The moon is the real you; its the reflection you see when you look into the mirror. Its the version of you that comes out when you stop showing everyone what they want to see.

Moon in the 1st - You are the moon and because of this, you look emotional. But you put on this face to protect yourself, but the very fact your putting on a face tells me and everyone else; that your emotional. And this should be fine but many people like to poke at defensive people for the simple fact that they are reactive. But your a comfortable person to be around... until you start getting defensive. Moon in 2nd - You are a pretty stubborn person and you get emotional if you don't get things your way. since your aware you want your way; you make sure to get your way. And so your usually comfortable to be around because we atleast know what will make you happy > your like that baby that needed its go go juice Moon in 3rd - You need stimulation to survive. So your a pretty interesting person to talk to, but you were probably an annoying kid. but now as an adult, you've kept your childlike spirit, and in all likelihood it was because of your overactive mind in your childhood. Which has stayed the same. Yay. Moon in 4th - You keep your feelings private because your emotional. This is good though because others usually respect your boundaries because they are aware it can hit a nerve. You were raised well, and it could be very emotional thing to think about, but full of nostalgia. but because of this comfortable way you were raised, your lowkey a lil soft. Ik you hated that, but people eat this shit up Moon in the 5th - Your like a painter or you own a cringe ass blog or something. You love to keep your hobbies private, because they mean so much to you. But if someone gets you talking about what you like; your very passionate. So when someone shows the slightest disinterest in something you like; you get pretty insecure.

Moon in the 6th - You need to feel useful otherwise you feel incomplete. You are always working and whether that be just ideas inside your head, or getting that bag; you won't feel satisfied unless you have accomplished something. Moon in the 7th - You are looking for emotions in others so you always show your emotions. You have a compulsive need to understand others, and a good way to do this is by getting them to open up to you. So you show a smidge of your vulnerable side to see how much the other person will show you. Moon in the 8th - You are trapped in an emotional pit of fear. And you struggle to escape your epiphanies of existionalism/ traumas of your past. You know why people are the way they are, and thats why your careful in how you communicate to others; you don't want to see them have a worser emotional reaction, when it already is bad enough (as they provoke deep unsettling feelings within) you attempt to transform others emotions in hopes it’ll change your own. Moon in the 9th - You are almost devoid of feeling, because your so focused on interpreting the deeper meaning of things, which in all honesty detaches you from your feelings more often than it connects you to it. Moon in the 10th - You are master oogway, you understand others well and know how to put others at ease. But because your so focused on your reputation, you confidently tell others you can be their confidants. And whilst you do understand psychology well, you neglect your own well being to save face. Moon in the 11th - You have many friends that are emotional/sensitive and act defensively. But I believe you meet these people so you have a broader understanding of emotions, and can connect the dots that others could not have > especially given how we are all caught in our own emotions. But this makes you relatively fearful of potential ramifications of your own emotions; because you have seen the best case and the worst case scenario many times over. Moon in the 12th - You don't understand your emotions. Or others emotions. It's kind of a sore spot for you. And because of this you may not be all that defensive towards others because you don't understand when your in a dangerous situation. and this may contribute to why you run in dangerous situations often; because you trigger people like a sensor with ur lack of awareness and clear openness

#astrology blog #astro community #astrology #astrology notes #astrology observations #house placements #astrology placements #moon #astrology houses

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manykinsmen · 3 months

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i want to talk a little bit about why i think the way nico rosberg is maligned by the world of f1 has a great deal to do with gender, sexuality and queerness. this isn't to say that nico isn't heterosexual and cisgender. we have no reason not to take him at his word in this regard; he understands himself best. what it is to say is that nico rosberg's presence threatens the way in which gender and sexuality is constructed in the wider world of f1, which has ramifications for both individuals within f1 and f1 as an institution.

so we have to talk, therefore, about the "platonic ideal" if you will, of an f1 driver. we all know, that except the bubbles of f1blr and f1tiktok, which fall into more of a "fandom" concept, and are therefore necessarily the domain of women and queer people, motorsports as a whole is a hyper-masculine pursuit as both a participant and a spectator, as is the case with most sports. we might therefore, gravitate towards thinking of this platonic ideal as some kind of super-jacked mega-sports guy. we do have to alter this a little to account for the specifics of f1, which prefers a smaller build, though still muscular, to complement the car. f1 has also long cultivated an aura of elegance to set itself apart from other motorsports series like NASCAR. this is not a diesel-huffing crowd, this is a champagne on yachts crowd. our faves all come out somewhere on the classic hollywood leading man to meterosexual sliding scale. i would volunteer charles leclerc as the best example of this platonic ideal in recent memory. the evidence of this? the amount of "traditional" f1 fans (i.e. men who watch the races and do not engage in fandom) professing an obsession with him.

where does nico fit in in relation to this platonic ideal? on paper, he seems pretty damn close. he's also got a slighter, lither build and also has always carried around an aura of elegance. he was even born and raised in monaco, like charles, whatever his passport says. there's a whole sub-essay i could write on the way that, in so many ways, both within and outside fandom, charles has picked up nico's baton, occupies the space he vacated, but we'll save that post for another day. so if nico is so close to the platonic ideal, why then is he not more celebrated? why then is he regarded with such suspicion? well, we can't micro-analyse his physical features, or pinpoint the source of the feelings he generates in others. not only would this be an exercise in futility, it would also be remarkably close to an exercise in anti-queer eugenics. the answer is that, for whatever reason, the feelings he generates in the traditional, heterosexual, cisgender male audience and participants of f1 are different to the feelings that charles generates.

let's analyse. they're both openly acknowledged to be/have been beautiful, but what's the difference here? well, charles presents in a subtly more masculine way. his haircuts have, since he reached adulthood, typically been shorter and he usually sports some degree of facial hair. nico's hair is often best described as long, for a man, and he's always clean-shaven. charles is also much more gender-conforming in his fashion choices, and more conservative (even when he makes poor choices), whereas nico's fashion choices (especially since leaving f1) are typically much more considered, "put together", and he takes bigger risks with patterns, colours and cuts. he also often carries a bag, which is associated with femininity. it's subtle, but on some occasions we could even make an argument that nico is gender-nonconforming in his fashion choices, at least within a hypermasculine sphere.

why does the way in which they dress and groom themselves matter so much? it's a huge part of how we signal gender and sexuality. susan sontag's notes on "camp" explains this in great detail. camp fashion emerged during the time in which homosexuality was illegal and therefore couldn't be announced publicly. instead it had to be signified somehow. this was achieved through a combination of fashion and mannerisms. camp, then, is even when performed by cisgender heterosexuals, inextricably and viscerally linked to queerness, particularly the queerness of amab individuals. this is because, later, "butch", which achieved the same results by travelling the opposite direction was separated from camp as its own entity. it is therefore a deviation from expected masculinity, and proximate to femininity. in a hypermasculine sphere, the threshold at which camp emerges is much weaker. nico rosberg presents camp. charles leclerc manages to avoid doing so. (side note, since nico retired, lewis hamilton has become much more daring in his own choices and is also finding himself flaunting gender presentation norms in f1. interesting, wouldn't you say?)

but this isn't the only way that nico rosberg has developed an association with queerness. the second way is entirely out of his control - it's the uncomfortable attraction of other men to nico rosberg. again, lets compare nico and charles. whilst plenty of people, fans or those who work in f1, are happy to admit that charles is "handsome", or even "beautiful", the word "pretty" is reserved (again, excepting in fandom spheres) for nico. why is this important? well, charles represents a male fantasy. men want to /be/ charles. even when a few cis-het male fans go as far as to say they have a "man crush" on charles or would make an exception to their heterosexuality for him, it's not a real suggestion. why? well, when these cis-het men say they would sleep with charles, what they mean is that they have mentally attempted to put themselves in the shoes of someone who is attracted to men and then found what they believe to be the best example of a man. charles is the platonic ideal of an f1 driver, he is therefore maximally fuckable, assuming one is attracted to men. for these men, saying that they would fuck charles is the end result of a thought experiment. what they are really saying, in quite a masturbatory fashion, is that they would like to be charles and fuck people.

nico rosberg, however, brings uncomfortable tangibility to this thought experiment. we've already established that nico has an association with femininity and femaleness that charles simply does not. for a heterosexual man, a feminine person is the typical subject of their attractions. nico expresses himself, both in fashion and mannerism, in a similar way to the women that are the object of many heterosexual men's desires. "pretty" is a word that is reserved by heterosexual men for women, and yet, it is/was routinely used about nico rosberg. a small case study in this is jenson button. by his own admission, jenson button had a psychosexual fascination with britney spears. what nickname did he immediately pick up for nico rosberg? britney. (note, i am aware that mark webber is the origin of this nickname, but jenson really took the baton and ran with it out of a few options). not only does this double down on nico's proximity to femininity, it also highlights jenson button's attraction. he doesn't just give him the name of any woman, but the woman he, self-admittedly, desires the most. jenson might be the most flagrant example, but he's not the only one. giving rapid one-word responses to drivers, mark webber gives nico as "pretty". another nickname that emerges for nico is "princess" - again, associated with not only femininity but highly desirable femininity.

so then is it all a big gay panic? while that certainly doesn't help and causes fractious relationships on an individual level. it's actually not the only problem nico rosberg's gender expression poses. to understand the other problem, we have to talk about the entrenched misogyny of f1. the platonic ideal of an f1 driver is, always has been, and will likely continue to be for a very long time, a man. a particular kind of man, as we have understood, but nevertheless, a man who manages, despite the preference for a smaller build and elegance, to skirt around the edges of femininity without touching it. nico rosberg is too close to femininity and worst of all, he is a champion.

one of the most curious things about women in formula 1, is that they are perpetually forgotten. even long-time fans of the sport, are often surprised to discover that there have been five female f1 drivers. it's a truly stunning display of repressed memory. even then, women in the world of f1 are necessarily "butch", simply for their presence within it. with a very small pool of exceptions, to participate seriously in sport as a woman is to be masculinised, voluntarily or otherwise. this is to say nothing of the over-representation of women loving women or women who by personal preference present more butch in sport. even though f1 represses its women as a traumatic memory, when women enter its sphere, they are masculinised, the sport is not feminised, well at least as long as they remain minor players.

nico rosberg's championship immortalises him in the annals of f1. by the rules that they have put in place, he cannot be repressed in the same way that the memory of lella lombardi or maria teresa di fillipis or even mike beuttler (a driver revealed to be gay after his retirement who subsequently died during the AIDS epidemic) can be. the role of champion is meant to be fulfilled by the platonic ideal of an f1 driver (side note, we can read into charles's title of "il predestino" quite a bit here). if it isn't, then it necessarily shifts the platonic ideal and therefore the identity of f1. nico rosberg's championship win represents not just a crisis of sexuality, but a crisis of identity across the entire sport, all of which is tied up in gender presentation. when nico rosberg won, the sport got camper, and it hated that.

to make matters worse, by immediately announcing his retirement for the express purpose of spending time with his wife and then newborn daughter (since then, he has had a second daughter), rather than shrugging off his associations with femininity by leaning into having a title and taking off in pursuit of more, nico doubled down on this. proximity to children, especially day to day, is another thing that typically falls into the domain of femininity, although we are beginning to dismantle this a little bit in the 21st century. however, f1 remains a hyper-masculine space in which its participants are expected, or even demanded, to spend large quantities of time away from any children that they might have. there are no accommodations made for parents on the grid. despite nico's decision to retire, when we reflect upon it, being highly understandable, its associations with femininity add to the impulse to call the decision "cowardly". it is an emasculating decision, and therefore incomprehensible to the hyper-masculine world of f1.

following his retirement, nico's campness only increases. i might speculate here, that part of this is the lifting of pressure to present in a way that people surrounding him in f1 are more comfortable with - you can see that his outfits when he is doing punditry for sky, for example, are much more conservative. nico has been open about not liking who he was when he was putting in serious bids for the f1 championship, and pressures to behave in a more masculine fashion might have formed part of that. likewise, nico goes out of his way to emphasise his relationship and closeness to women and femininity, branding himself as a "girl dad" (we could compare here to kevin magnussen, who is also the father of two daughters whom he clearly cares about very deeply, but hasn't, to my knowledge, referred to himself as a "girl dad". when we consider nico's behaviours post-retirement to be "cringe" we might then want to interrogate which behaviours, exactly, we mean. "cringe" very frequently, is a disguise that misogyny and homophobia wears to be let back into he building.

how does the world of f1 react to this? by attempting to repress nico rosberg. mercedes fails to mention and credit their only other champion besides lewis hamilton, even in the same breath in which they claim closeness and proximity to michael schumacher. fans undermine the validity of his win by implying it was merely the culmination of lewis hamilton's bad luck with regards to car reliability, which not only undermines nico's achievement but so to lewis's (to be truly the best, one must triumph over greatness and skill, not untalented hacks, as many would you have believe). new fans of the sport are often shocked to discover that nico rosberg is in fact a world champion, even though only two drivers have won the title since him, and only one new driver. where nico can't be erased, he is cast in the role of the villain, the way disney villains almost always carry an association with camp and gender nonconformity.

what's the conclusion then? well, it's perhaps not the entire picture of why nico rosberg is so maligned, but gender identity and sexuality are definitely something to think about here. the way he challenges the very strict gender role an f1 driver, and especially a wold champion, is expected to perform is incredibly uncomfortable to both the institution of f1 and individuals operating within it (as fans, or as participants). and maybe, just maybe, we should interrogate the concept of "cringe", which is often used as a to beat those that challenge our expectations in these areas.

#nico rosberg #charles leclerc #f1 #queer theory #feminism #jenson button

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tenelkadjowrites · 11 months

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Wallflower - Part Two - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART ONE HERE. PART THREE HERE.

🌻 Summary: The events of Sunday morning won’t leave your mind, and you are determined to figure out if every aspect of the rumor about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, is true.

🌻 Word count: 11.5k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. dirty talk. fingering. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie.

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

You have a problem and it is one of your own making. In fact, it could even be considered two separate problems that are colliding.

Problem one? You have no friends. After spending years striving to climb the corporate ladder in your quest for money and job security, all your real friendships fell apart and faded away. That meant that every one of your ‘friends’ were actually coworkers. The unhappier you got at your job, the more distant you felt from them, leaving you increasingly isolated.

Problem two? You fucked around with a coworker. Most people would agree that to fuck a coworker, especially in an office setting, is a bad idea. Sure, it hadn’t turned into full on sex but you believed a general consensus of the situation would be that having your coworker eat you out to orgasm twice could be a short term pleasure without thinking of the long term ramifications.

The way these problems collided was in the fact that you couldn’t talk to anyone about Seonghwa because you had no friends who aren’t directly tied to work.

This meant that, while pressing the button in the elevator on Monday morning, you are left to the spiraling thoughts in your head without anyone’s help or advice.

As the doors open and you step onto the floor, you immediately scan the area for Seonghwa. But you don’t spot him. All that you see is the usual Monday morning bullshit – people cramming donuts in their mouth, the scent of that cheap break room coffee, the typing of many keyboards, people gossiping by the water cooler about the party on Saturday, and the sound of various boring and tedious phone calls.

The dread that blooms in your chest is enough to knock you off balance. Fuck, when did I start hating this place so much? It isn’t as if working here ever gave you a ton of joy. Office work was often tedious, dry and dull. But the money was supposed to wipe that all away. So…why wasn’t it?

You throw your bag down at your desk, sitting down and staring at your reflection in the computer screen for a few seconds before turning it on. As it boots up, you roll your chair back a little and glance over at Seonghwa’s cubicle. It is empty but his bag is there, making your heart skip a beat. Turning your attention back to your computer, you open up your e-mail, dreading everything that might have come in over the weekend.

You had been steadfastly trying not to think of Seonghwa since he dropped you off yesterday. That proved to be difficult. Actually, impossible. You couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt when he kissed you or how he looked when his tongue was working your clit. It’s been difficult merging the images of Seonghwa in the past as just your nerdy coworker with what happened last night.

“Good morning,” comes the very voice you are thinking about.

You flinch in surprise, looking over your shoulder to see Seonghwa standing there. He wears a pale blue button up, neatly tucked into the top of his khaki slacks. A black belt loops around his waist. He looks the exact same as he does every single day but this time…

“Hey,” You reply, spinning in your chair to face him.

We’ll see about that, baby is what Seonghwa had said when his fingers were buried in your cunt. The words bounce around in your brain as your gaze flicks to his hands quickly before back at his face.

He looks a little shy but stares at you resolutely through his oversized glasses. “Your car is still at the bar, right? Do you want me to take you there after work so you can get it? I drove today just in case…”

“Yes, please,” You reply, relieved, “I had to Uber this morning and the driver was one of those guys who wear like…the driver gloves. You know what I mean? Like, you’re not Ryan Gosling and I’m in a Tesla. Anyway, it was intense and uncomfortable and I was not looking forward to another ride after work.”

He laughs. You’ve seen Seonghwa laugh before and it’s always fascinated you how it looks like he’s in mild pain when doing so. Now, it is kinda endearing.

“I’m leaving on time today because I spent all of yesterday here and I could really do with some sleep.”

“I’m leaving on time today because I just don’t want to be here,” You reply without thinking.

Seonghwa laughs again but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long which makes your insides swirl. You suddenly are thinking about his tongue against your clit again. His mind must be traveling along the same thinking because he suddenly glances away, looking shy.

“Uhm, so you were here for a long time yesterday?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation as normal as possible.

“Yeah, the entire day and most of the night. I got home around one.”

You shudder. The idea of spending that long in the office is nightmare fuel.

Seonghwa continues, “But we got what we needed finished. See?”

He is pointing to your computer screen. Your e-mail has finished loading (another shudder) but you aren’t sure what you’re looking at.

“What?” You finally ask.

“Oh, the update notif, see? Here, I’ll show you.”

Seonghwa walks into the cubicle, leaning down to grab the mouse. He is very close to you although he’s busy clicking stuff on the computer. To be honest, you aren’t paying attention to whatever he’s doing. You’re thrown off by how it feels to be this close to Seonghwa, recalling how good he was at kissing.

“There. It takes about ten minutes or so though,” He looks as if he is going to say more but that’s when he turns his face in your direction and suddenly looks nervous, trailing off.

The two of you are extremely close. In fact, it’s so close that you could kiss Seonghwa easily. His lips are inches from yours. You can feel the warmth of his body and for one wild moment you just want to press your hands against his chest, pin him against the cubicle wall and kiss him until you are delirious.

There is a touch of pink along his cheeks. You know what he is thinking about because you are too. You open your mouth to say…honestly, you aren’t sure but a sudden clatter makes Seonghwa leap away from you as if you have turned into a cold fish.

“Oh, good, you’re here…uh with…Seonghwa?”

It’s your gossipy coworker, her head cocked to one side, staring at Seonghwa and then at you.

Seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair and says quickly, “Good morning! I was just pushing the software update through on her computer! Do you need any help with yours?”

Your coworker drawls, “No, I think I can figure out how to press ‘update’, thanks.”

Her tone is so dismissive that you feel irked. Seonghwa nods, quickly saying bye and scurries out of the cubicle, leaving you alone with your coworker.

“Just wanted to see if you made it back to your place in one piece.”

You could’ve texted, you think in a slightly bitter way but just go, “Yup, I did. Had a bit of a headache but nothing too bad.” Oh and the nerd you just quickly dismissed made me cum twice with just his fingers and tongue but I’m not about to tell you that.

“You were so wasted, oh my god. Never seen you get that fucked up at a function before. But don’t worry, you were a pretty boring drunk and there’s nothing being said about you. Apparently, this guy in accounting got super trashed and barfed all over the bar countertop after I left so that’s what everyone is talking about this morning.”

You feel weary. You dislike how confined the office feels, hate being smushed into your cubicle, tired of listening to the same gossip every week. You’re chafing at the repetition. You’re just happy that the rumor about Seonghwa is becoming old news because you aren’t sure about your ability to keep a poker face if it comes up.

You’re waiting for your coworker to mention her comment about you being weird lately. But she keeps talking about the guy throwing up and you realize she doesn’t think you remember it. You could bring it up yourself but can’t muster the energy. She isn’t wrong, after all, but you don’t want to talk to her about how you’ve been so unhappy at work lately.

“Oh, your computer update is done,” She finally stops talking, pointing to your screen, “Alright, I guess I should go. You coming out for coffee later?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be there.”

She walks off with a small wave, leaving you alone at your computer. Lost in thought, you think back to something Seonghwa said in the earlier conversation. I drove today just in case. He did that so he could take you to your car. The thoughtfulness touches you, makes your stomach feel weird in a way you can’t explain.

Trying to wipe Seonghwa from your mind, you steel yourself to begin working through the emails with a small sigh.

Running late to meet with Seonghwa, you hurriedly press the elevator button. A call had gone over the allotted time, leaving you scrambling to get out of the office before something else kept you. Sir Dipshit was just exiting his office as you scurried away. Now, you just need the fucking doors to close before you get stuck with him…

Luckily, they glide shut just as he rounds the corner. Exhaling slowly, you rub your forehead. You’ve been nursing a headache since early afternoon. All you want to do is get the hell out of this building so your skin can stop crawling.

A few minutes later, you are out in the parking lot. Seonghwa is waiting by his shit heap of a car, typing on his phone and doesn’t see you. Your heart skips a beat when you see him which you steadfastly ignore. We’re just friends, you scold yourself.

“Hey,” You say and he looks up, smiling. “Sorry I was late. I got stuck on a call.”

“It’s no problem,” He replies as the two of you get inside his car.

After snapping in your seatbelt, you watch as Seonghwa curls his hands around the steering wheel. Your thighs clench at the sight and you wish that it could be possible to wrangle yourself under control. But you want him so badly that all you can think about is if he is going to kiss you or touch you or –

“How was your day?” He asks casually, clearly oblivious to what is on your mind.

“Fine,” You mumble, not wanting to say more in case you start complaining about how much you’ve hated work lately.

As the car comes to a halt at a red light, he looks over at you. “How long have you been working here? I know you were already working here when I started two years ago.”

“Six years or so.” Wow, has it really been that long?

“When did you start experiencing burn out?”

“What?”

Seonghwa blinks behind his large glasses. “Your…work burnout. Sorry, am I overstepping?”

“N-no, I just…haven’t thought of it like that before. I mean burn out from what? Having a steady, good paying job? I’m just in a rut.”

“Alright,” You get the feeling he wants to say more but he is holding back, “When did the rut begin?”

The light turns green and Seonghwa turns his attention back to the road as you reply, “Maybe…a year or so ago. It just keeps growing though. And I don’t know how to get out of it. I worked really hard to get to this spot and I still have more of the corporate ladder to climb so I’m annoyed with myself for feeling so disengaged. I hate going. I hate being there. I hate walking into that lobby and I hate how slow the elevator is. I hate how cramped the cubicles are cuz the company is too cheap to get a bigger building. I hate how disorganized everything is and I hate how everything, every single day, is the same. I hate that I have hours of nothing to do and I have to pretend to look busy. I hate how much Sir Dipshit talks and the stupid work events we need to attend or we won’t hear the end of it. I hate how when I am not at work, I spend every moment dreading going to work. And I hate how pointless it all feels.”

You blink, realizing that you’ve gone on a gigantic rant while Seonghwa drives. But you’ve never actually stated these things aloud to anyone before and the words hang heavy in the car.

“Can I be honest?” He says after a moment.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

“That doesn’t really sound like a rut. It sounds like burnout combined with maybe just straight up hating your job.”

“I don’t hate it,” You say weakly, knowing how absurd that sounds.

Seonghwa shoots you a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I think you used the word ‘hate’ numerous times in that speech.”

“Right but…you don’t feel that way about your job?”

“No. I mean, some days sure, I don’t want to go in. That’s normal. No different than being a kid and not wanting to go to school. But I go, and when I leave, it’s just out of my mind. I focus on other things that give me joy. What do you do to relax from work?”

The question is such a normal one that you’re horrified when nothing comes to mind. “I…watch TV.”

“What are your hobbies?”

“I like to read…although I haven’t really read a book in awhile.” Wow, your answers are dismal. “I just never have the energy for anything.”

“It’s hard to make time when we work so much. But it’s still important to do stuff that has nothing to do with work. We don’t just exist to be at our jobs. We need to do other things too. Things we find enjoyable.”

Well, I was enjoying myself yesterday, you think but stop yourself from saying. You get the feeling Seonghwa isn’t talking about sex being the only outlet from work.

He makes a right turn and the bar comes into view. You can see your car parked and tell Seonghwa that it is yours. He parks next to it, shifting his body to look at you. He looks serious.

“Maybe this job worked for you years ago. But it’s okay if it doesn’t fit the current you.”

At this, you protest, “Wrong. I worked way too hard for this job. I dragged my ass through the dullest business courses at school and landed an annoying internship right out of college. This is what I’ve been working for.”

“Okay, you’ve been working towards it but is it what you want?”

You are starting to feel disgruntled and aren’t sure why. “What do you mean?”

“A lot of the times, we just go after something because we are told we’re supposed to want it either by parents, or society or whoever. But in quiet moments, we should think about what we want. If this job no longer aligns with what you want, then there is no harm in looking for new work.”

“No way,” You scoff, “I’ve worked too hard for this.”

“Alright,” Seonghwa relents, “I don’t mean to be pushy but I had a friend deal with a job he hated and it sucked the soul right out of him. I just wouldn’t want that to happen with you.”

Curiously, you ask, “What happened with your friend?”

“Wooyoung worked in the same line as me, just at another company. Eventually, he hated it so much that he quit on the spot with no work lined up. He didn’t know what he wanted, just that he couldn’t stand working in a cubicle anymore.”

“And now?”

“Runs a little tarot shop in the historic district.”

“Wow, that’s a big change.”

“He always dabbled in that stuff for fun but he said he got…some dream or something one night about running a shop like that. Saw himself happy with a blossoming clientele in some city where he was working alongside our mutual friend San. It was enough to prompt him to make some changes. Gave him some clarity.”

You chew on this for a moment. But when you think of the future, all you see is your cubicle. Making any sort of drastic change like that seems impossible. Besides, like you said to Seonghwa, you worked so hard for this. Why ruin it just because you don’t like it? Almost everyone hates their job now. It’s completely normal to hate your job, right?

“Well, thanks for dropping me off. I appreciate it.” You are anxious to get away from Seonghwa if only because it feels as if he really sees you which is gratifying but also unnerving at the same time.

“One more thing,” He says quickly, “Uhm, well. I was wondering if you’d like to come to the movies with me tomorrow night.”

Your hand had been on the door handle but now you look over your shoulder at him. In the setting sun, the orange hue reflects on his blonde hair at a slant, making it look golden. There is something so soft and inviting about Seonghwa, something you didn’t notice about him until you actually spoke to him because of the rumor.

“What movie?”

“Well, this week the theatre in old town is showing the Star Wars movies and tomorrow night is The Empire Strikes Back. I’m too tired to go tonight for A New Hope but if you’d like to come with me tomorrow…”

You think you saw the movie randomly a long time ago because a vague memory of a ship flying around an asteroid field comes to mind. If it were anyone else but Seonghwa, the refusal would come quickly and easily. But…

“Sure. What time?”

“Be there around 7:30. I’ll wait out front for you,” He looks relieved as if he was expecting a rejection, “Do you have my number? I know we’re supposed to have everyone’s numbers because we’re on the same team but I wasn’t sure…”

You scroll through your phone, surprised to realize that you do in fact have Seonghwa’s number. To your chagrin, you had put the nerd emoji after his name.

“Oh, I do have it.”

“Okay. I have yours so just text me if anything comes up and you can’t make it.”

“Alright,” You push open the door, stopping briefly to look one last time at him, “Thanks again.”

You take note of the fact Seonghwa makes sure you get in the car, that it turns on okay, and you drive out of the parking lot before he pulls out of the space.

This isn’t a date. You’re just going to see some Star Wars movie with the nerdy guy from your office. Who is your friend. Who gave you two amazing orgasms but has not indicated that he would like to continue anything further.

You’re parked in front of the theatre, hands gripping the steering wheel, mentally bolstering yourself for the night ahead. You have successfully managed to overthink the entire Seonghwa situation, including the fact that since the events the other night, there has been no forward motion on anything else.

Maybe he didn’t have fun, you think, turning off the car and getting out. I mean, you’re just assuming he did and that it would lead to more but you haven’t exactly asked him and he hasn’t said anything about enjoying it. Wow, I really need friends. I wonder if Seonghwa has mentioned me to his fellow group of nerds or if he’s too shy. Or maybe he hasn’t mentioned me because what happened before isn’t that rare of an occurrence and I am just assuming it is because he’s a nerd. Maybe in reality he sleeps around a lot. I mean, he’s handsome. I mean that in a handsome but not in my type of handsome sort of way. You know –

“Oh, hey, you’re here,” Seonghwa says, relieving you of your exhausting and never ending mental monologue.

“Worried I would change my mind?”

“Maybe just a little,” He replies bashfully.

Seonghwa is wearing slacks and a black sweater which hangs off his slender frame. He looks comfortable and warm. You’re glad that you didn’t dress up because as far as you know, this is just a casual night out with a friend and nothing more.

“Well, I’m here,” You gesture to yourself.

Seonghwa pushes up on his glasses and smiles. Together, you walk into the theatre which is pretty quiet. It didn’t appear as if people were storming the building to watch The Empire Strikes Back. This is confirmed when you go into the theatre itself and only a handful of people are inside.

Taking your seats, the movie starts soon after. Seonghwa seems to be engrossed immediately, his eyes staring at the screen with rapt attention. You wonder how many times he’s seen this film. His hand is resting on his knee and you are fighting the urge to reach for him. But something stops you – maybe it is that Seonghwa is glued to the movie, maybe it is because you just aren’t sure if that would be making things too date like, or perhaps it is because secretly you’re afraid of his rejection. Regardless of the reason, you keep your hands to yourself.

At some point in the film, you lean over to ask a question and Seonghwa tilts his head in your direction. “Where’s that blue guy?”

“What?” Seonghwa sounds baffled.

“The blue guy with the red eyes. He was on the cover of your book,” You whisper.

The corners of his mouth quirk up as he fends off a smile. He turns to look at you. One side of his face is doused in the colours of the cloud city on the movie screen, making his hair glow.

“He’s not in the movies,” Seonghwa whispered back.

You make a noise of understanding and mild confusion. But he is still staring at you in a way that is making your insides turn. For a split second, you think that Seonghwa is going to lean forward and kiss you. It hits you with a heavy intensity that you desperately want him to kiss you. No, not just kiss you. You want his hands back on you. You want him naked against you and you want him inside you.

Seonghwa turns back to the screen then, leaving you with a fast beating heart and a swooping feeling in your stomach that you can’t believe is connected to the nerdy guy watching Star Wars with you.

“It’s Thrawn,” Seonghwa says afterwards as you exit the theatre together.

“What?”

“The guy on my book cover. It’s Thrawn. In the 90s, he started out as the main villain in a trilogy of books set after the original trilogy of movies. That kinda started the entire expanded universe of Star Wars lore. Later on, it got retconned in the buyout of 2012 but they put him back in the canon later on cuz he’s such a fan favourite,” Seonghwa explains as you shiver in the colder night air.

“That explains why that book looked so well worn,” You muse.

He looks sheepish. “Yeah, I’ve read that trilogy a lot. I know it’s not canon anymore but…well, I’ve read it so much now that it’s comforting. I like to go back to it every few years. But there’s new canon books about him too that I’ve read.”

“I miss feeling that way about books,” You mumble, “Like finding them comforting, reading a book for an entire afternoon or something and doing nothing else.”

“You should pick up an older book like that. One you used to like. Maybe that would help you to relax and not think about work.”

“Maybe,” You pause for a moment before going, “I don’t think about work when I’m with you though.”

Surprise flickers across Seonghwa’s face and then he looks down at his feet for a second. You feel embarrassed at your admission, wondering if it is going to make him uncomfortable. You had already drunkenly told him that you felt safe around him even though you only got to truly know him in the past week.

Although you want to be quiet, your mouth seems to have other plans. “I feel disconnected with everyone else at work. I don’t know if it’s just because how I feel about the job in general or what. But I don’t think I can talk to them like I talk to you. I know that sounds silly because we only just started talking but…” You trail off, unsure how to finish.

Seonghwa takes a step towards you and the space in between your bodies close. You shiver again as the wind kicks up. Tentatively, he reaches out with his hands and brushes his fingers along your arms. Goosebumps break out across your skin.

“Are you cold? I might have an extra hoodie in my car.”

“I’ll be okay,” You say, your breath catching at the touch.

His hands linger there for a moment before Seonghwa pulls away, looking unsure. He looks as if he has something he wants to say but isn’t sure how to word it.

“Thanks for inviting me,” You say, trying to turn the conversation away from your admission, “Star Wars isn’t really my thing but I still had fun.”

“I did too.” His nerves radiate off him, an energy that is brimming just underneath the surface.

But Seonghwa doesn’t kiss you nor make any sort of move and you’re too in your head to do anything about it. You take a step backwards, giving him a small wave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Right, yeah, tomorrow. Uhm…” He swallows, “Text me when you get home so I know you’re alright.”

The words threaten to make your cheeks warm but luckily it is too dark for Seonghwa to see. “Okay.”

He nods and you turn around, walking to your car. You can feel his eyes on your back. You’re struggling with the random assortment of emotions bouncing around in your brain. It’s confusing to want Seonghwa this much even though you don’t understand what draws you to him. You want him to make a move but he doesn’t seem like the type to do so because he’s so shy or he’s lost interest in you physically. All you know is what started out as curiosity over a rumor seems to be shifting into just simply wanting him.

“What’s up with you talking to Seonghwa so much? You still thinking about that rumor?”

You’re at the coffee shop with your coworkers for lunch hour. After suffering through a long meeting this morning with Sir Dipshit, time is crawling along. You’re missing the times when your coffee break used to perk you up. Now, nothing seems to soften the blow of the long days.

Your coworkers are all staring at you like you’re a fish in an aquarium. You shift awkwardly in your chair. “Yeah, I was thinking about it when I first approached him. But not so much anymore.”

“Yeah cuz like I said he’s boring,” Your gossipy coworker interjects, “I talked to him at the work party thinking maybe there was something I’m missing about him but there obviously isn’t. He was talking about some…video game called Animal Crossing. I think that regional manager was lying about how good he is in bed cuz she can’t believe she slept with him.”

You want to defend Seonghwa but you also don’t feel like talking about him eating your pussy out like a pro. The thing between you and Seonghwa feels private, something that doesn’t belong to work – the only thing currently in your life that doesn’t feel tied to work which is funny given the fact the two of you are coworkers.

On top of that, you aren’t even sure of your own feelings for Seonghwa. What started out as curiosity shifted to straight up desire and now it’s shifting yet again. You’d rather fake your own death and flee the country than invite any discussion of that with your coworkers.

“He’s cute if you can look past his gigantic glasses,” Another coworker chimes in, “But I’m not dating a guy into Legos.”

“Wasn’t your ex one of those guys who painted his face before a sports game?” You say in a pointed tone.

“Uh…yeah?”

“Some people might argue that is more of a turn off than Legos.”

This flusters your coworker and also signals a shift away from Seonghwa into shit talking the mentioned ex. You lean back in the chair, the conversation sliding through your head like water. You’re thinking about Seonghwa’s friend and how he started his own store. But I have no experience in that. And what type of store would I even run? You drum your fingers against the table, mentally scolding yourself for even thinking such a thing. You didn’t work this hard or for this long just to leave your cushy job cause it’s boring.

Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, it will eventually click.

Later that evening, you’re staring at the TV but not really thinking about the show. You have wandered to the existential dread you’ve been experiencing every night before going to bed because of work looming the next day. On top of that, your mind flickers to Seonghwa as you sort through your attraction and how much you like spending time with him. There is something quiet about him, a stillness in his centre of someone completely at ease with himself, his hobbies and his job – all things currently that you do not possess.

You’ve been steadfastly trying not to think about the morning he went down on you but you’re losing the battle tonight. Laying among the pillows on your bed, you are picturing the way his tongue looked against your clit, the sensation of his fingers in you and how his voice sounded while talking dirty.

You’re wet now and fighting the urge not to throw caution to the wind and ask if Seonghwa wanted to fuck. We had an entire discussion about the rumor. Would he be so surprised if I brought it up again? But you’re still unsure if he has changed his mind since –

Your phone buzzes and to your surprise, Seonghwa’s name appears alongside a text. You feel caught as if he somehow knew you were thinking about him and unlock your phone to read the message.

“Are you busy?”

“No,” You type back, “Just watching TV. Is something wrong?”

The three dots pop up and disappear multiple times. You’re on edge now, wondering what in the world Seonghwa could be struggling with that takes so long to send.

After a minute, his reply finally pops up. “I’m sorry if I am out of bounds but there’s just something on my mind.”

You sit up straighter, eyes glued to your phone as the dance of the three dots continues. You wish he would type faster but he keeps stopping and restarting. You wonder if the stuff your annoying coworkers at lunch has somehow gotten back to him and he’s mad at you not defending his pussy eating skills or something. You immediately feel silly for thinking such a thing as Seonghwa doesn’t give off any energy that he’s the sort of person who would want you defending his sexual prowess.

Finally, Seonghwa’s message appears. “I was just wondering if you’re still interested in the rumor about me.”

You stare at the words in surprise.

Seonghwa immediately starts typing when you don’t reply after five seconds, sending multiple messages in rapid fire succession until it fills your screen. “I completely understand if you’ve changed your mind after what went on between us on Sunday morning. If it wasn’t pleasurable for you or if just simply hanging out around me made you lose interest in doing anything else. I know we are friends even if we decide not to bring anything else physical into it. I’ve just spent the last few days overthinking it because we’ve been alone a couple of times since then and nothing has happened. I know I’m not very good at making the first move because I grow nervous and I get in my head a lot. And frankly, my friends are sick of hearing me drone on about it and Hongjoong told me just to call and ask. But calling is giving me a lot of anxiety so I’ve settled for texting. But now that I’ve started this conversation via text I am worried that it is coming across as deeply impersonal for a matter like sex. Should I call? Would it be weird to call about this? Would it make you more uncomfortable to talk about it on the phone or through texts? Wow, sorry, I’ve really typed a lot. I’ve mentioned before I can talk a lot. Type a lot? I’m done now, sorry.”

You stare at the message, feeling both relief that you have both been overthinking and a certain giddiness at the fact Seonghwa is bringing this up.

But you don’t want to add to his anxiety so you try to type as quickly as possible. “I’m still interested in the rumor. I just wasn’t sure if maybe what happened on Sunday had you change your mind or maybe it wasn’t as enjoyable for you as it was for me.”

Seonghwa’s reply is hurried and you can feel the slightly panicked energy on the other side. “It was enjoyable for me! Like I said, I’m not good with making any first moves. Someone either has to be blunt with me or it has to be so extremely obvious of their interest or I end up second guessing myself. On Sunday, you were so honest about…everything that it was hard to misunderstand things. But since then, I thought maybe you just simply changed your mind.”

You chew on your bottom lip, zoning in on the phrase about being blunt. Throwing caution to the wind, you type out, “Would you like to stay over Friday night?”

Immediately, the response appears.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

You exhale slowly, running your fingers over your skirt. Seonghwa is due to show up any minute now and you can’t help the butterflies in your stomach.

The rest of the week hadn’t been awkward, exactly, but all your small interactions with Seonghwa felt emotionally charged. Both of you knew what was going to happen come Friday night and you thought the whole office must have sensed it. It was in every lingering gaze Seonghwa sent your way, in the manner that you would walk past his cubicle just to see him, and how he would make you a cup of coffee in the breakroom and brush his hand against yours while handing it over.

On top of that, you gave up on not thinking about Sunday and masturbated to Seonghwa every night that week. Your desire for him was at fever pitch, eclipsing everyone else you’ve ever wanted. You were desperate to know if he fucked as good as he ate pussy.

You aren’t playing coy tonight. If Seonghwa worked the best with someone being blunt, then you were wearing the equivalent of a bludgeon. Your skirt ended just under your ass, knee high socks with a small bow at the top, and your shirt is low cut, exposing cleavage. The entire outfit is black although your matching bra and underwear are a deep red. There is nothing subtle about the outfit. This makes you nervous at being so forward but exhilarated at how open you are.

A sudden knock on the door breaks you out of your thoughts. You slowly walk over to the door, taking a second to collect yourself and then you open it.

Seonghwa stands there, in black slacks again and a form fitting simple white t-shirt. A black bag is slung over his shoulder. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him in just a short sleeved t-shirt before. The sight of his exposed arms sends a jolt through you. Wow, he really is fit, you think as your eyes drag across his well toned arms down to his flat stomach. The fabric of the shirt is thin enough that you can just make out hard muscles underneath. His waist is slender, almost dainty, and a belt hangs off his hips loosely.

“H-hey,” You say, trying to collect yourself.

Seonghwa looks as if you popped out of the front door with a baseball bat. His eyes rake across your body so openly that you don’t think he is even aware he’s doing it. He looks slightly dazed, and when he notices how short your skirt is, he swallows hard. There is a touch of colour on his cheeks and his eyes are wide behind his big glasses.

“Uh, hi,” He manages to squeak out, “How are you?” His tone is formal but he is squeezing the strap of his bag so hard that his knuckles are white.

“I’m alright. Come in,” You move to the side and Seonghwa enters so nervously that you think of a timid deer in the woods, “You want anything to drink?”

“Just water, please.”

You nod and turn around to head towards the kitchen. You can practically feel Seonghwa’s slack jawed stare at the skirt brushing against the bottom of your ass as you leave. Once in the kitchen, you try to slow down the fast beating of your heart. You didn’t think seeing him would throw you so off balance. But you’re already wet.

When you return to the living room, Seonghwa is sitting on the couch, looking incredibly nervous. You hand him the glass and sit down next to him. His eyes drop to your exposed thighs and he gulps down half the glass immediately before angling his body to face you.

“Can I be honest with you?”

For a second, you suddenly worry that he has changed his mind. Too afraid to speak, you merely nod.

“I’ve never come over to someone’s place with the knowledge it’s going to be for sex so I am out of my element and I’m kinda worried I am just going to…blank out and forget how to…do…everything.”

The admission is endearing, the flustered way Seonghwa is squirming even more. It is jarring because this is something that normally would not be a turn on. Everything about Seonghwa takes you by surprise – from the rumor down to how much you want to sleep with him.

“We don’t have to –”

He interrupts swiftly, “No, I want to. Trust me, I want to. I just…have had a lot of time to overthink.”

You lean back on the couch, grabbing the remote. “So, we won’t just jump into it. We can just watch TV. You’re staying the night. So…there’s no hurry.”

Seonghwa relaxes slightly, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. He still sits a bit stiffly though and you can almost see him overthinking everything. From this angle, your eyes trace the muscles in his back, the way the t-shirt lays against his skin and the curve of his neck.

After about ten minutes of idly watching some boring cooking show, you speak up, “I’ve never seen you in like…a short sleeved t-shirt before.”

Seonghwa looks down at his torso for a second before going, “Oh…I guess you’re right.” He looks mildly confused, unaware of the impact a simple white t-shirt can have.

“Didn’t think you’d be working out that much,” You can’t help it – you’re teasing him.

And it works. His face turns red as he sputters, “My friend Jongho takes it seriously so I tag along with him most times.”

“You seem to keep quite the busy schedule between work, your friends and all your hobbies,” You say, thinking about how your own free time is spent dreading work, “Hey, weren’t you watching those Star Wars movies in the theatre this week? Are you missing one tonight?”

Seonghwa leans back on the couch and tilts his face to look at you, his expression a bit shy. “Uhm, yeah, I am missing one tonight. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s Attack of the Clones tonight,” He says as if that means anything to you, “I mean I’ve seen them all a thousand times so it’s alright to miss some. Besides,” Seonghwa looks nervous now, “I would rather uh…be here with you.”

You want to make a joke about how having sex with you wins out over Star Wars but he looks so delicate in his attempt to flirt that you decide against it. Instead, you reach over and take his hand, holding it gently. Seonghwa swallows again, his eyes dropping to your exposed thighs.

He shifts his weight, leaning forward a little, his eyes asking a question that you’re happy to give an affirmative answer to. You meet him in the middle, your lips touching his lightly at first. His hold on your hand tightens from nerves and then he is kissing you like he did before in that manner that makes your stomach swoop and body stir with desire.

His hand breaks free of its hold on yours so that he can run it up along your thigh, touching the fabric of your skirt. His breath hitches as his other hand comes down on your thigh. He trails his fingertips along your skin, making you shiver. Seonghwa doesn’t stop doing that as he begins to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. You don’t think you’ve ever been so wet before just from someone barely touching your thighs and kissing you.

“Do you wanna come to my room?” You breathe out shakily.

“Yes,” He says seriously in between kissing your neck.

“Your phone isn’t gonna interrupt us this time?”

Seonghwa laughs a little and shakes his head. “I put it on silent. The office could burn down and I’d have no idea.”

Relieved, you pull away and stand up although your legs already feel like jelly. Seonghwa takes your hand and trails after you into your bedroom. The curtains are still pulled back from the windows which open onto a small balcony. Your apartment is large, modern and expensive. At the time, it had been exciting to be able to afford such a place. Now, you’re too miserable to enjoy it and not entirely convinced it fits who you are anymore. But tonight, those worries and concerns don’t matter because you’re here with Seonghwa.

You cross the room to close the curtains, feeling Seonghwa staring at your ass. The short skirt seems to be impacting him in the way you hoped. When you turn back around, he is already walking towards you. He reaches for your waist, pulling you against him with such an intensity that it takes your breath away.

His lips are back on yours and his hands slide down, bunching the skirt in the palms of his hands as he grips your ass. You make a small noise of surprise in his mouth, feeling a large bulge against your thigh. Your hands move to the bottom of his shirt and pull it upwards, the kiss breaking so you can toss it off him.

Your hands move down his chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath before circling around his slender waist. Seonghwa is nipping at your neck with his teeth, his hands going underneath the skirt to remove your underwear. You realize he wants the skirt and knee high socks to stay on and you feel secretly pleased that he enjoys them that much.

Once your underwear joins his shirt on the floor, you move backwards towards the bed, your hands fumbling with the button on his pants at the same time Seonghwa is trying to take off your shirt. It ends up being a collision of limbs and the two of you accidently thunk your heads together.

Seonghwa laughs and then takes a step away from you. “S-sorry, I guess I got a little overly excited.”

“Me too,” You say, taking note of how fast your heart is racing.

Seonghwa stares at you for a few seconds, his cheeks a bright red. His hair is tousled, his pants unbuttoned. In the gentle lighting of the bedroom, you take in the sight of his toned chest and stomach, your pussy so soaked it is like your brain has simply shut off and retired for the night.

You reach up for his glasses, your hands hovering over them. “We kinda made a mess on these last time. Do you…”

“No, I don’t need them. My vision is worse far away and you’re…well, you’re very close,” He murmurs.

You remove his glasses gently, stepping away from Seonghwa to put them on the top of your dresser. With your back still to him, you pull your shirt off over your head and turn to face him. His breathing has quickened as you take your place in front of him. This time, you go for his shirt as he stares at your bra. His skin is hot to the touch as if the nerves and desire are buzzing around just underneath his skin.

It takes you a second to once again admire his body, taking note of how good he looks; certainly the last thing you expected from nerdy Seonghwa. You drag one finger down along his stomach, stopping at the top of his pants.

“W-wait,” He says suddenly and your hand freezes, wondering if he has decided against sleeping together.

You don’t think you’ve ever had so much anxiety about someone opting out of sleeping with you until this whole thing began with Seonghwa. Frozen in place, your gaze flicks upwards at him.

Seonghwa looks embarrassed as he stammers out, “We can’t just – what I mean is…going right into it. We can’t. Not that I don’t want to,” He says quickly, “I do but you’re just – and I’m…” He takes a steadying breath. “You’re too tight for me. Right now. I have to get you ready.”

You blink, staring at him in surprise and fine, maybe a jolt of excitement. The rumor of his big dick comes back to you full force and your eyes instinctively drop down to the bulge in his pants.

“Is that what you were doing last time?” You ask curiously, remembering how his fingers in you and telling you that your pussy was tight.

“Well, I did want to go down on you. But once my fingers were in you, I realized…you know?” Seonghwa is nervous, making you wonder how many times he’s had this conversation in the past, “So let me help.”

If by help he meant making you feel that good again, you weren’t about to disagree. His hands slink up along your lower back up to the clasp of your bra which he undoes, peeling the fabric off your skin to expose your tits. His warm hands grope them, his thumbs grazing your nipples to watch the way you shiver from the touch. He brings his head down to your neck, lips against your skin. Even though you’ve been daydreaming for days about bouncing on his cock, you are quickly lost in the touches given by him.

Seonghwa gently pushes you against the bed, indicating for you to sit down. As you do so, he slides to his knees, his large hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart. Exposed in front of him again, wearing just your skirt and knee high socks, you normally would feel nervous. But instead, you’re lost in the sight of Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, his long fingers pressing against your skin and how his eyelashes are dark smears against his cheeks as he looks at your cunt.

Bringing his face forward, his tongue dips into your wet hole with an almost lewd slurping noise. You can feel his tongue probing your entrance to taste you, his hands still holding your thighs apart. Then Seonghwa drags his tongue upwards to flick against your clit, causing you to gasp.

One hand moves off your thigh. You watch as he brings one finger to your entrance, pushing it carefully inside your tight hole. He pumps it slowly while rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub. Your chest rises and falls quickly with each movement of his finger and tongue, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips. Still, you remain propped up to watch Seonghwa, his eyes closed as he works on your pussy.

Gingerly, he inserts a second finger. Still pumping his fingers at a leisurely pace, he switches to using the tip of his tongue against your clit like last time. It feels good, incredibly good, and your head rolls back a little as you moan out his name. He makes a small noise that sounds like a sigh when you do so, wiggling his fingers deep in your cunt.

You’re somehow going to climax already. You aren’t sure how Seonghwa can get you off so fast. Your thighs shake and he keeps his other hand steady on your skin so that you can’t close your legs. The tip of his tongue feels delicious against your swollen clit, his fingers making a soft squishy noise with each pump.

And then you’re cumming, your juices against his fingers, his tongue still flicking hard and fast against your clit. You fall back on the bed, no longer attempting to prop yourself up to watch, as your orgasm takes over. Seonghwa slows down his tongue as you wiggle against his fingers, wondering what it would be like to be stuffed with him.

Even after your orgasm quiets, Seonghwa doesn’t stop moving his fingers. Instead, he murmurs, “That’s good. I’m going to add another finger and then you’re going to cum again.” His tone isn’t forceful or demanding – it is just matter of fact.

Woozily, you go, “What?”

“You heard me,” He hums quietly and then a third finger pushes into your cunt, “There you go, baby, take my fingers just like that.”

You want to tell him you’ll do anything if he keeps talking to you in that tone but words seem to be eluding you at the moment.

Seonghwa’s fingers are buried as far as they can go in you. He fucks you with them slowly, letting you recover from your orgasm. You can hear how wet you are.

“Such a tight little hole. You’re going to be stuffed with my cock,” Seonghwa continues quietly, “But you’ve been…you’ve been thinking about that anyway, haven’t you?” He sounds a little shy with the question, as if he’s seeking affirmation and is hiding it behind dirty talk.

“Y-yes,” You breathe out as his speed slightly increases.

“Been thinking about my cock in you?”

“Yes,” You repeat and his fingers feel so good that when his tongue goes back against your clit, you groan, your hand suddenly in his hair, gripping it in such a way that you can hear him grunt in approval, “Ever since I heard the rumor,” You admit.

Seonghwa’s fingers move faster now. He doesn’t respond since he is too busy sucking on your clit in a way that makes your brain feel as if it is melting. Every few seconds he stops to wiggle his fingers inside you before resuming fucking you with them. You think you might be moaning his name – or it might be literal gibberish, you aren’t exactly sure. But Seonghwa doesn’t stop, just makes noises of approval when your hips buck and your grip on his hair tightens.

Somehow, you’re going to cum again already. The entire situation feels a bit ridiculous: that someone you looked over a thousand times due to how nerdy he is can make you cum like this, that you never want him to stop because it feels too good, and that you’re about to finish all over his face.

But you do, your climax just as intense as the one prior. Your back arches as you cum, enjoying how your juices coat his fingers as his tongue presses against your overstimulated clit. You’re suddenly grateful that your bedroom wall isn’t shared with a neighbor because you’re making way too much noise.

Breathless, your eyes close as your orgasm winds down. Seonghwa removes his fingers and you can hear him sucking them clean loudly. Your legs hang off the bed. You feel fucked out and you haven’t even started yet.

But it is the sound of Seonghwa unzipping his pants that finally makes you prop yourself up again. Seonghwa tugs his pants down his hips, exposing the top of his boxers. His hair is a mess from you gripping it and his face is smeared in your cum but he doesn’t seem to care. Good thing we took his glasses off, you think hazily.

His pants hit the floor, leaving him in just his boxers. The bulge strains against the fabric and when he finally pulls them down and his cock springs free, you realize 1. The rumor was true and 2. Seonghwa was correct in trying to prepare you for him.

“Fuck, okay,” You don’t realize you said this aloud until Seonghwa looks embarrassed.

“We don’t – I mean, if it’s too much,” He stammers out.

You can only stare at him incredulously at such a suggestion which only deepens the colour across his cheeks. You lean forward, curling your hand softly around his girth. He inhales sharply at the touch. Your hand looks positively small against the size of his cock. You aren’t even sure how much of it you could fit in your mouth but fuck if you aren’t going to try.

Sitting at the edge of your bed with Seonghwa in front of you, your head tilts back to look up at him. He looks pretty, you realize while staring at him. You supposed he was always pretty but you never took much notice of it due to his clothes and big glasses. It seems laughable now to think he has spent all this time wandering around the office and you’ve been clueless to what he’s like…including in bed.

Working up salvia in your mouth, you spit it out onto his cock, smearing it across the shaft. He exhales, eyes closing as you stroke him. You take the tip of his dick in your mouth, your tongue circling the tip slowly. Seonghwa groans softly as you take more of him. Your mouth opens wider to accommodate his size but it’s obvious from the start that you’re not going to be able to fit all of him. He seems to sense this because his eyes open, looking down at you.

Even so, your tongue presses against the underside of his shaft as you suck his cock. Drool quickly pools at the bottom of your mouth, spilling out at the corner of your lips. You are still looking up at him, admiring the way his facial expressions subtly change with each movement. He looks sexy, you think, in that messy, turned on sort of way where his calm and pleasant exterior is quickly being destroyed.

He makes a small whine in the back of his throat when you let his cock slip out of your mouth, covered in your drool and his precum. But when you slide back onto the bed and gesture for him to follow, he doesn’t waste a second.

Seonghwa’s body presses against yours as the two of you kiss. Your hands are on the back of his neck, the kiss a mess of cum and spit. One of his hands is squeezing your tit, groping you as your legs wrap around his waist. You can feel his big dick pressing against your pussy. You whimper in his mouth, a quiet plea for him to fuck you.

The kiss breaks. Seonghwa’s lips are slightly swollen from all the kissing. You realize at some point you must have bitten down on his bottom lip.

“We’re gonna go slow,” He murmurs, “And if it’s too much, just tell me.”

You nod although you have never been this determined in your life. Even the long hours at the office cannot compare to the determination of getting his big dick in you.

He adjusts his position, his cock pressing at your entrance. Carefully, Seonghwa pushes forward. Loosening you up earlier combined with drooling over his dick helps because you can feel the head of him enter easily. He slowly continues, giving your pussy time to get used to how thick and large he is.

It doesn’t take long to feel stuffed, your walls stretched out around his cock. Whenever your pussy tightens, Seonghwa stops. His breathing is shaky and you’re sure the only thing he wants to do is fuck you into the bed but he holds back.

You’re actually feeling pretty accomplished. In fact, the entire thing was easier than you had been expecting –

“Okay, that was halfway,” He says, and you can only stare at him.

“What?” You reply, feeling as if you couldn’t take another inch, “I thought…”

He grins, quick as a flash, before going, “You thought that was all of me?”

“I mean, I feel…uh, pretty full,” You say bashfully, “I just assumed…”

Seonghwa brings his body close to yours, his arms sliding underneath your back. Pressed against him, your legs tighten around his hips and another half an inch slides in. You gasp a little in surprise, your pussy tightening.

His lips are near your ear and he whispers, “Relax for me,” When you do so, he moves his hips ever so slightly so you can take more of him, “There you go, baby.”

You shiver, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sinks deeper into your cunt. Your pussy is absolutely stuffed and you can’t imagine fitting more of him inside you. But it also feels amazing, your entire body warm from the pressure of his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Seonghwa grunts, going still for a moment, his head lowering and his hair brushes against your jawline, “Does it feel okay?”

‘Okay’ doesn’t seem like a good word to even describe how it feels for him to be inside you. Your fingers dig slightly into his shoulders as you reply, “Don’t stop.”

More of his cock slides deeper. You wiggle your hips experimentally, seeing if it helps. It does as more of his girth stretches out your cunt. Seonghwa sharply inhales, his hands pressed hard against your back to stop himself from bucking his hips.

You randomly think about all the times you’ve seen Seonghwa in the corner of your eye at the office, barely paying him any mind. He was just walking around work with a gigantic dick and I had no idea. If he hadn’t fucked that random regional manager, I still wouldn’t know.

“Seonghwa?” You ask in a shaky voice.

Seonghwa stops for a moment, pulling away from your neck to look at your face. “Everything okay?”

“Y-yes.” For some reason it’s harder to ask the question when he is looking at you. “You ever sleep with anyone else at work?”

“No!” He refutes quickly, “Did someone say I did?”

“No, no, I was just…wondering,” He is looking at you curiously so you keep going, “I was just thinking about how long we’ve worked together and that I didn’t – I mean, never heard anything about you having a big dick until that manager at the conference.”

“Right…” Seonghwa says slowly, clearly not following your train of thought.

You gingerly reach upwards to sweep his hair out of his eyes. He takes this chance to rock his hips slightly, more of his cock entering your tight hole to make you gasp.

“Just was thinking like…if I had known earlier. That’s all. But if you had slept with someone at work, it might’ve gotten around. Before now.”

Something shifts behind Seonghwa’s gaze and he laughs softly before curling back around you. He is slowly rocking his hips now and with one final push, you inhale sharply, feeling as if you’re going to burst.

“There,” He mumbles against your skin, “You took it all.”

It seems ridiculous to feel so pleased but you do. Seonghwa doesn’t stop his small movements. His teeth gently bite down on your earlobe and then he speaks again. “Are you saying you would’ve tried fucking me earlier?” His voice is low in your ear, tingling down your spine.

“Yes, I think so,” You mumble.

“Would’ve let me bend you over my desk?” He continues and the words combined with his dick are making your head go light, “After everyone else leaves, you would’ve pretended to need my help for something? And by the end of the night, you would have my cock stuffed in your tight hole, letting me fuck you until you were dazed and drooling?” As he talks, he continues to rock his hips, very steadily increasing the speed as your pussy gets used to being stuffed full of him.

The mental image is a vivid one. Hearing Seonghwa talk so dirty is turning you on even more. You curse quietly as your lips find his. There is nothing timid about this kiss, a sloppy and lustful mess as he begins to actually fuck you now. Your pussy is squeezing him so hard that you aren’t sure how he’s not cumming already. He can barely fit in your cunt but you’re so wet it doesn’t seem to matter.

When the kiss ends, your lips are still touching so each word of his next sentence feels like a soft kiss. “And then by the time I’m finished unloading in your cunt and you manage to stand up, I can see that you drooled all over the papers I keep on my desk because every single thought in your head is wiped clean from my big dick.”

Fuck, who taught the nerd to dirty talk? You think distantly. His thrusts are about as fast as he can go now without hurting you. Your pussy is not used to something this large but it doesn’t seem to be negatively impacting Seonghwa’s enjoyment. Your legs tighten around his waist as you try to move your hips to meet his. Seonghwa shifts his hands downwards, gripping your ass through the skirt now so he can drive his cock deeper.

The angle change means he’s hitting your sweet spot now. You’re groaning and gasping out his name as your juices spread all over his cock and out of your hole, being squished out of you from how big he is. Seonghwa’s eyes are closed, chasing his own orgasm as your third one of the night draws closer.

Your fingernails dig into his back, feeling his muscles move underneath your hands. He isn’t even fully thrusting, mostly rocking his hips at the highest speed your cunt can take. But he’s so big and you feel so stretched out around his girth, combined with the angle, and it doesn’t take much longer for your climax to hit.

Your pussy tightens around Seonghwa’s cock and he groans, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. You can feel him spilling out inside you, the way he’s making a mess in your cunt. It leaks out around his length because there is so much of it as the two of you cum together in a blur of noise and skin against skin.

Afterwards, Seonghwa carefully untangles himself from you, pulling out slowly. Your entire body feels like jelly as he plops down on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath.

Well, you think, I guess I’ve figured out the entire rumor is true.

Seonghwa’s heart rate has slowed. You can tell because your head is resting on his chest. You are feeling sleepy and content which is the only reason you allowed yourself to snuggle up to him. It doesn’t matter that his fingers feel nice trailing along your neck or that he is warm and comfortable. It also doesn’t matter that you like how his toned stomach feels underneath your own hand. You’re just too tired to move off him.

Seonghwa has been talking about how he cosplayed as Anakin Skywalker at some convention two years ago with his friend, Mingi. His entire friend circle sounds like the nerdiest group of people on the planet. But there’s a happiness whenever he talks about his time around them, something that you cannot relate to, given that everyone got cut off for your career.

But you enjoy the lilt of his voice and the steadying presence of his body. If he was my type, he would be boyfriend material, you think, refusing to entertain any other idea that your brain might be trying to show you.

“Are you listening?” Seonghwa asks quietly, breaking you from your thoughts.

“Yes,” You reply, wiggling down against him with a yawn.

“You know who Anakin is, right?”

“Yes,” You are mildly affronted, “He’s the guy who taught Vader.”

“No, that’s Obi-Wan,” He sounds vaguely mortified, “It’s fine.” You aren’t sure if that is directed at you or himself.

“I wanna see this cosplay.”

“I have pics on my phone but please don’t make me get out of bed. I can show you another time.”

“But if you get out of bed, I can check out your butt.”

Seonghwa makes a strange squeaking noise of embarrassment. You tilt your face upwards to look at him. The two of you had cleaned up a bit after having sex but his cheeks seemed to have a permanent red hue to them. You find it endearing.

“Can I ask you something?” You want to see how red he can get. “Where did you learn to fuck like that?”

The colour on his cheeks deepens. He squirms a bit, unable to look at you directly. “W-what?”

“Where did you learn to fuck like that?” You repeat, taking great pleasure in Seonghwa’s nose scrunching up for a second. “I mean, sure the big dick is just bestowed upon you. But the pussy eating and the fingering and then making sure it’s not uncomfortable to take someone of your size and –”

“Okay, I get it,” He squeaks out, his face pleasantly red, “I get it.”

You drop the conversation, enjoying how flustered he looks. You lower your head back down onto his chest, yawning a little, eyes closing.

“I’m ah…glad that you like how I…do things,” He says and you can hear his accelerated heart rate in your ear.

“Do you date a lot?” This is just you being curious.

“Sometimes. My last relationship was maybe a couple of years ago. It just didn’t work out. She wanted to move and I wanted to stay here. Ever since then, I usually just go on some casual dates here and there. Sometimes, it leads to sex. There was a woman about eight months ago that almost turned into something but in hindsight we just liked sleeping together a lot. It became all we did when we hung out so it didn’t feel like we really knew one another. But you’re the first person I’ve done this…friends with benefits thing.”

“Right,” You mumble, disliking the weird twist in your stomach when he mentioned ‘friends with benefits’.

“What about you?”

“No. No time. My last relationship was four years ago. Sometimes I do a one night stand or a hook up here and there. But I’ve just been so busy with work that I think everything else sorta got sidelined.”

Seonghwa chews on this for a moment before asking, “Do you regret that?”

“I never did until recently. It feels like I’m regretting everything lately.”

“Including work,” He states this as a fact.

“Yeah, I guess so,” You brush it off, “But I don’t want to talk about work right now.”

“You’re not regretting…uhm…”

At this you laugh. “No, I am not regretting fucking you.”

Seonghwa relaxes underneath you. Sleep is tugging on you for attention now. You hold onto Seonghwa tightly, too tightly and if you weren’t so tired, you would be telling yourself to pull away, turn on your side and fall asleep. But he still makes you feel safe and you’re too tired to push that away.

You fall asleep against Seonghwa like that, with his heartbeat in your ear and his body against yours.

PART THREE HERE.

Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @leo-seonghwa - @hwalysm - @revehosh - @mulletjoonsupremacy - @byungaji - @erensluut - @singularity777 - @hwa-whiskers - @luxvatz - @seonghwasstar - @eyesonlyformingi - @rxnexxi - @rosealie05 - @right-here-in-these-arms - @moonsangie - @yeonjuns-sock - @pink-hwaberry - @fudgeflyssworld - @ninalove323 - @darkdayelixer - @mixling-blog - @innsomniacshinestar

Couldn’t tag: @ohgeezitsbreadgenie - @bubblepoppsworld - @kyukyustar - @lelaleleb - @onlyupark - @seongua

#ateez fics #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fics #seonghwa x reader #kpop fic #wallflower #100 notes #500 notes

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comradekatara · 22 days

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Ik you went into the whole stupid "nonbenders are oppressed" thing in lok in one of the asks I sent you, but it keeps on making me think about how much I wish i got to see mako and bolin's mixed earth kingdom fire nation heritage play a role in the story. Maybe if lok had the themes of atla it could go into how the two are treated differently for Mako looking more fire nation and bolin looking more earth kingdom. I think it'd be interesting if Korra keeps on hearing Amon's followers yell on the streets about how benders oppress everyone but then notice how Bolin gets treated significantly better when he pretends to be a non-bender fire national/lean into his fire nation heritage by ignoring his bending compared to when he is openly an earthbender which directly ties him to his earth kingdom heritage.

right!!! i am literally always saying this. like it’s sooo weird how lok does not understand what it means to be mixed in any meaningful capacity. neither with the kataangs nor with mako and bolin, they’re each just largely tied to the element they bend with no consideration given to the other half of their heritage. bumi doesn’t consider himself an air nomad until he magically gains airbending, despite his father literally being the only air nomad currently in existence. instead of trying to preserve his familial heritage, he completely undermines all of aang and katara’s cultural values and joins the fucking military. kya doesn’t seem to give a shit about air nomad culture either, seeing as she doesn’t even know guru laghima’s name (and he’s the wisest air nomad who ever lived!). despite apparently being an independent free spirit who values her freedom, she seems 100% affiliated with her mother’s heritage, because waterbender. even though the values of community and tradition kind of conflict with her whole “you can’t tie me down” attitude, so. um. and they never once explore how the value of, for example, hunting as an important cultural tradition in the water tribes may conflict with the value of vegetarianism and doing no harm to any living organism. these are interesting tensions that could have been explored!! but instead, tenzin is merely an air nomad who takes after his father both culturally and physically, kya is a waterbender who takes after her mother, and bumi is a…..cosmopolitan, and nobody likes him.

as for mako and bolin, they don’t even get the privilege of being the children of the avatar and the chief of the southern water tribe (i said what i said), so being mixed race in the neocolonial cesspit that is republic city would be bound to cause some tensions. but instead of actually addressing what the ramifications and complex colonial dynamics of inter/multiracial family structures in a postwar society that is nonetheless still struggling to contend with a century’s worth of global imperialism and the lingering trauma of that violence would be, they kind of just….ignore it. yes, mako is a firebender who takes after his fire nation mother, and bolin is an earthbender who takes after his earth kingdom father, and they live in a city that was once earth kingdom land that now functions as a neocolony of the fire nation, but also, the police force are all earthbenders, and there isn’t any sort of lingering racial/colonial tensions in this city whatsoever! you know how mako and bolin were orphaned as children and forced to live on the street and dumpster dive for food and eventually did labor for a gang because they had no other means of survival? are we going to question or implicate the systems that enabled those abject conditions? no, of course not. look at mako fumble two gorgeous, ridiculously privileged girls! look at bolin do the charleston! isn’t republic city FUN???

#bakedbeanchan #asks #lok crit #in the lok rewrite that lives in my head Children of Mixed Experience get the identity crises they DESERVE 😤😤#but yeah. what a mess #analysis #bumi ii #kya ii #tenzin #mako #bolin #bolin&mako

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Hi! I love your writing so much and was wondering if you could write Remus giving super lovey dovey aftercare to the reader? (Like maybe the reader gets really tired or has a bit of muscle pain after the deed and it’s just Rem taking care of her)

Thanks sm for requesting!

cw: definite implied smut, but no real details

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 798 words

It’s almost embarrassing that you’re hurting. You’d been talking big a little while ago, all I can take it and don’t stop, feels so good, and that had felt very (very) true at the time, but now that you’re coming down from your high, the ramifications of going so hard are catching up to you. You wish Remus wouldn’t notice, because it wasn’t long ago that he was telling you how good you were being for him and you’d hate to lose that reputation, but of course Remus misses nothing.

He’s trailing a finger lazily up and down your side when he stops just shy of your hip. “You’re tense,” he murmurs, prodding carefully at your lower belly. “Are you cramping?”

“It’s not bad,” you try, and he frowns. “Just a little, uh, muscle pain.”

“Dovey.” He pouts, and it’s almost comical, the mouth that had teased and bitten at you minutes before all pursed in sympathy. He begins rubbing your stomach with his palm tenderly, one hip bone to the other and back again. “Where does it hurt, love?”

“Right…there,” you hiss as he adds a bit of pressure, and Remus stops immediately. “And—and my legs.”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” He moves his other hand to rest on your thigh, like he can banish your pain with just his touch. “I knew I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”

“Worth it.” You grin at him, and you’re rewarded with a low chuckle.

“Still, I think I’ll work on having a bit more restraint in the future.” Now it’s your turn to pout, and Remus thumbs affectionately at your cheek, following his touch with a kiss. “I’m gonna go get your heating pad, see if that helps. Just relax, yeah?”

You start to shiver after he goes, the slight chill in the room more apparent now that your blood isn’t flowing like it was. You’re considering going under the covers, but when Remus comes back he grabs one of his sweaters, passing it to you wordlessly as he plugs in your heating pad. The knowingness of the gesture warms your heart, and you wonder that you don’t see it glowing softly through the material of Remus’ sweater. He lifts up the hem, adjusting the heating pad over your stomach before letting it fall back in place. You widen your eyes at him pitifully, and Remus smiles as he leans down, obliging you with a sweet, lingering kiss before he sits on the bed and takes your leg in his hands.

“It’s here, yeah?” he asks, pressing his fingertips to the taut muscles underneath your thigh.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, love, just straighten your leg out for me.”

“Rem.”

“Hm?”

You flush. “Can you not talk like that, please? I mean, right after?”

Remus’ smile is sheepish, but you don’t think you imagine the glint of smugness in his amber eyes. “Sorry, darling.”

You extend your leg on the bed, and Remus begins to knead at it, testing the stiffness of your muscles and then working it out with long, skilled fingers still sticky with sex. You make a sound in the back of your throat when he pushes at a particularly tight area, and Remus coos, dipping his head to drop a light, conciliatory kiss to the top of your thigh.

“My poor, lovely thing,” he murmurs, resuming his ministrations even more gently than before. “Didn’t mean to put so much strain on you.”

“Remus, please, I asked you to,” you sigh.

“Shh, darling. I’m talking to your leg.”

You make a sound of startled amusement, but Remus keeps his composure, his expression grave as he sets down your thigh and moves to your other side, starting on the next.

“It gets a kiss, but not me?” you ask, suffusing your tone with a good helping of neediness.

“You’ve already had a kiss,” he reminds you, but doesn’t hold out more than a second after you pout, leaning over and taking your face in his hand. He squeezes your cheeks together, keeping your lips pushed out for him as he presses a kiss there, to your cheek, to your forehead. “My poor. Lovely. Girl,” he says between each one, dropping once more to your lips for good measure. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes.” You smile, not caring that it’s all mushed up in his hand. “But only if you mean it.”

He rolls his eyes, feigning benevolence, but he can no longer suppress the lopsided curve of his lips. “I mean it,” he sighs. “Do you think I’d be offering you free reign of my chocolate stores if I didn’t mean it?”

You brighten. “Really?’

“Just for tonight,” he says sternly, but it’s all for show. He’ll give you anything you want, whenever it pleases you.

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shayyprasad · 1 month

Text

intellectual | peter parker

summary: you overhear something you weren't supposed to, but it shouldn't have been said in the first place. in result, you can't help but wonder if peter wants something different.

warnings: implied smut, mentions of sex, insecurity, use of y/n

pairing: bimbo!reader x frat!peter

word count: 3.0k+ words (my longest fic yet-)

a/n: in no way is use of "bimbo" meant to be a patriarchal stereotype. please do not take it offensively, this is a work of fiction.

M.LIST | RULES/REQUESTING | ABOUT ME

peter was totally smitten by you. really, he was. after all he's been through, it was kind of nice having someone who adores him as much as he does, even if you are... a tad bit dim-witted.

while he grew up surrounded by death, trauma, and more, you were raised sheltered, hidden away from all the bad things. and even though peter's been through some shit, he finds it to hold you so gently, like the pretty thing you are, as if you were stained glass; fragile, but so beautiful.

when he's holding you, all his soft, brown eyes can focus on are how your soft, manicured hands wrap around his rough, calloused ones. you're always careful not to hurt him with your acrylics.

even though you can be slow at times, it's almost impossible not to admire the way your clothes always hug your curves, glossed lips pulled into a pretty pout.

peter could have just about any girl he wanted on campus, but he didn't want any of them.

he wanted you, and only you.

maybe it's because you were different, and no, not in dim-witted nature. but because of how soft you were. you didn't know, and even if you did, understand the horrors he wittnessed out there everyday.

you were protected by a little (very pink) bubble that you lived in, so when he came home to you, it felt as if he was in a different world altogether. you were so damn good at distracting peter, and you didn't even know it.

you were in your own dorm room, watching a silly rom-com while peter was with his friends, he told you not to wait up for him, given that he would be up 'til the early hours of the morning. but you decided that peter and his goodnight kisses were slightly more important than your beauty sleep.

slightly.

you furrowed your neatly shaped eyebrows at something that one of the characters said, tilting your head.

ram-i-fic-a-tion? you thought, humming. pulling out your phone, you googled the word.

noun plural noun: ramifications

a consequence of an action or event, especially when complex or unwelcome. "any change is bound to have legal ramifications"

"legal ram-i-fic-a-tions?" you wondered aloud.

you skimmed the rest of the definitions, still confused. surely peter wouldn't mind if you gave him a quick ring? so you went ahead in did that, letting the sound echo in the room.

when he didn't pick up, you frowned.

"ummm..." you trailed off, calling one of his friends, spencer, instead. you weren't a stranger to him, but more of a mutual. after all, your roommate was dating him. actually, you'd ask alyssa, your roomie, but she wasn't here.

much to your happiness, spencer did pick up. "hiii, spence."

"y/n?" he said, slurring slightly.

"what does, like, ram-i-fic-a-tion mean?" you asked, careful to enunciate.

spencer was aware of... how your brain worked, and he wasn't a jerk about it (unlike some people). he was one of peter's closer friends, so you felt comfortable around him.

"ramification? oh, uh, it's like a consequence."

you frowned dumbly, "to what?"

"to an action. if you don't study for the final, you might not do well. that's a consequence to your action. a ramification."

"oh. oh! okay. thank you!"

he didn't disconnect right away, and you could hear one of his frat brothers, you were unsure who, talking. and of course, you strained your ears to listen.

"it doesn't get annoying or anything?"

you heard peter's voice come next, and instantly perked up. "what?"

"dude, be so for real. she's hot, but like, as dumb as a third grader. do you have to talk to her like that too?" he laughed.

oof, you thought, sucks to be whoever it was they were talking about.

"sometimes. she's good in bed, though."

wait. he was talking about you. your jaw dropped. i mean, you were stupid, but not this stupid. so this is what "saturday night with the boys" was all about?

you heard collective laughing. you did stupid things sometimes, but never had the mental compacity to be embarrased by them. this, though? this was different.

you trusted peter.

he was the only person who never, ever, spoke to or about you like that. in fact, it was one of the reasons you'd grown to like him so much. because he was patient, he was kind, and never did he once judge you.

well, that's what you thought.

but you were dumb enough to think that just because he never spoke about it to you, he never spoke about it all.

you immediately disconnected the call, dropping your phone. trying to focus back on the movie, you nibbled on a piece of popcorn.

but you just couldn't get over it. did it bother him?

all the questions? the dim-witted stupidity? all the pink?

reluctantly, you glanced the hot pink bowl that held your snack.

you didn't mean to be so... like that. you were just being yourself. did peter not like you being yourself? no, no, of course not. if he didn't, then why would he be with you?

a little voice in the back of your head rang out; "because you're good in bed."

maybe it wouldn't hurt to try and raise your iq?

you turned off the tv, hot pink popcorn bowl forgotten. alyssa wouldn't mind if you borrowed something, right?

you opened her room door, walking over to her bookself. wrinkling up your nose, you scanned her shelf. how could someone like reading so much?

it was so... gross.

oh, well. maybe peter was into intellectuals. and you had better become before he left you for someone like that.

your eyes paused at a book titled "the hobbit".

"what's a... hobbit?" you asked, not to anyone in particular. you skipped it, looking at her other ones.

"'twisted love', 'the fault in our stars'... what'd the stars do?" picking up the book, you read the back. "huh," you remarked, putting it back.

instead, you grabbed a couple self-help books, struggling to hold them with your acrylic nails, which, of course, were bright pink... accentuated with big charms; bows and hearts.

you went back over to your room, dumping them on your bed. checking your nails again, you drummed them against your palm to make sure they were intact.

you started reading the first one, curling up in a blanket, but you kept getting distracted. every five seconds, you look up to make sure your lashes were still in place, or that your skin wasn't to shiny, or that your hair was still perfect. and to be honest, you didn't really understand any of it.

like, who actually had the patience to read through all of it? how could a book cure all your crap?

and why would you read a book to feel better, when you could go to a spa, or a shopping spree.

credit cards were invented for a reason.

but you powered through, at the very least, you skimmed the words. there was no way you could read it word for word. but you wanted to try... for peter.

you wanted him to stick around, to love you, but not superficially. not for sex.

you stayed up until 1:30 (mostly reading, and you still didn't understand how people did this for fun), but didn't call peter. you'd talk to him tomorrow, maybe. first, you needed to get your facts straight. eventually, you got ready for bed.

this included showering, taking off your makeup, putting your hair in rollers, and your fifteen-step skincare routine.

you may have been half asleep, but you'd never skip a step.

peter came over around noon monday, when neither of you had classes. "jeez, babe," he groaned, you in his lap, "i've got so much to do. seriously, i'm never gonna get it done."

you twirled your hair, appearing nonchalant, "your mindset is either your best friend, or worst enemy."

you kept your eyes trained on your phone, waiting for peter to respond. looking up, you saw him blink. "uh... yeah. that was- that was very... un-y/n-like."

to be honest, you didn't even know what the saying meant. you just memorized it from your book. "was it dumb?"

"no, it was smart," peter replied, kissing your hairline.

"i'm normally dumb?" you asked, tearing up. lips pouted, voice moist, you made eye contact with him. you knew you were a little slow, but dumb? really?

"no! that's not what i meant. it just sounded- well, i- cause you never say stuff like that. you're my smart, pretty girl."

"oh, okay," you said, your nails tracing the curve of his back. you pecked him on the lips, but he brought you back for a longer kiss.

you giggled as he flipped your positions, peter on top.

"can i show you just how pretty you are?"

he didn't have to ask twice.

you were in the dining hall, sitting with some of your friends, mixed with some of peter's.

they were talking as you picked at your salad, leaning into peter.

"ugh," sarah, you kind-of friend started, "my boss gave me a premotion."

"what the fuck are you complaining about?" alyssa scoffed.

"because! it means that i have to do more...! like, i'll have to get up earlier. i dunno if i'll take it. it's cooler than the one i have now, but but it's not as comforting."

you spoke up, completely confident, "commit to change. either embrace the challenge of pursuing your destiny or shy way and live in regret."

collective "oohs" and "damns" were heard around the table, and you reveled in it.

"okay, girl, you go."

"parker, when did your girlfriend get a braincell upgrade?" you looked at peter, waiting for him to shoot something back, but he didn't. you frowned slightly, going back to the salad.

it went on like that, you would pipe in and offer self-help advice (not really knowing what it meant) hoping for peter's attention. sometimes you got it, and sometimes you didn't.

it was fine, you wanted him to notice you. after all, you weren't reading for fun. you were doing it for him, so... just, like, notice already.

you'd been focusing so much on the self-help books, your nails had grown out, leaving space between your nail bed and acrylics. deciding to take some time away from the books and all their un-understandable wisdom, you wanted to paint your nails.

nothing to big, but more simple. you were finding it hard to turn the page with the large charms on the acrylics you normally had to.

you found some 100% acetone in your bathroom, so you soaked your nails, waiting for the acrylics to come off. once they got loose enough, they came off easily.

you did some prepping, then picked out two different shades of pink. you were about to start when you heard two long knocks, then two short ones.

(it was peter's special knock, so you'd always know when it was him.)

"come in!" you called out, and you saw a head of fluffy brown hair peek in.

"hey," he said, slipping in your room.

"hi, petey!"

he came up from behind you, hugging your waist. "whatcha doing?"

you opened a bottle of nail paint, "painting my nails."

"cute colors," he kissed your cheek, and you leaned in.

"right? pink is so pretty," you gushed.

"what are these?" peter asked, and you looked over curious as to what he was talking about.

"oh, just, like, lyss' books."

"yeah, but why're they in here?" he read the back of one, raising a brow.

you continued painting your nails, trying to appear chill. "i was reading them."

he seemed to do a double-take, and you frowned, "what?"

"nothing- nothing, i just..."

"i know how to read," you said, shoulders sagging. "i'm smarter than a third-grader," you didn't catch the slip-up, but he did.

that caught him off guard there, "what?"

"what?" looking up, you finally met his eyes.

"you said you- well, yeah, i know. you just don't-" he paused, "self-help books didn't seem like your thing is all. oh, is that why've you been saying all that?"

"saying what?"

"all the-" he didn't want to hurt your feelings, but if he was right, he already had. "the, um, advice?" he stammered. peter didn't trip over his words often, and you knew that.

you were sure that he knew that you knew, but you weren't sure if he knew for sure.

you shrugged, "doesn't it sound smart?"

"no, yeah, it does." he's treading very carefully. it was quiet for a brief moment; "did you hear?"

"hear what?"

"the... the comment i made?"

"oh, that one about me being stupid, but good in bed?" you said it so casually, as if it didn't bother you at all.

but it did. he knew it did.

he sighed, "i'm really sorry, baby."

"for what?"

"for saying that."

"no, you're sorry you got caught. you wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it."

"i didn't- i was drunk," peter tried again.

"drunk words are sober thoughts," something else you read, you aren't sure where.

he was starting to get really nervous. he didn't know what was going through your head, normally he had a good idea, but it wasn't anything like this. it didn't seem like you hated him, but he wasn't about to take advantage.

"no, i-"

"it's okay. i'm working on it," you said, trying to make him feel better. as if you were the one who'd messed up, not peter. the idea itself was insane to him, and it only made him feel worse.

"angel," peter started, "this is not your fault. please don't make it your fault. i'm the one who messed up, and what i said was not okay. it was a stupid, drunk joke, and i shouldn't said it."

you blew on your nails, blinking back your tears. mascara, the good stuff, was expensive. you looked up, shocked to see tears in his eyes. you don't think you've ever seen him cry before. well, maybe once, when you watched "titanic" with him.

peter wasn't one to get emotional, he still denied ever crying over that movie.

"it's okay," you repeated again. you were dumb, you knew that. it really wasn't his fault, you shouldn't have pushed him to feel like that.

"but it's not. and i know you know that, please tell me what i can do to make it better."

"but-"

"no, it's not," he said sternly, "and i cannot stress that enough. i'm really sorry, baby."

you capped the polish, you didn't know what to say. it wasn't your fault? okay, fine.

maybe he was right.

"i got really upset," you admitted.

"i know, baby," the tears are falling, he quickly wipes them away.

"did you really mean it?"

"no, no, no, of course not. i absolutely love you the way you are, and you shouldn't have to change yourself for anyone- especially not for me."

"so you don't think i'm only good for sex?"

"baby, no, baby, no!" baby, he used that word for affection; when he was guilty, trying to prove something to you... in this case, how sorry he was. "you are good for so many other things," he paused, "okay, that didn't sound great."

he took a deep breath, taking your freshly painted hands in yours, "don't mess up the polish," you warned, even though you were tearing up.

peter smiled slightly, that meant you weren't too upset, right? that he hadn't fucked everything up by great means?

"i haven't ever met someone like you, who loves me the same back. and i don't mean generally, but romantically. lots of people can't put up with me," he started, "but you do, and jesus, baby, i'm so greatful for that- and you," peter added.

"you are the bright pink light of my life. you're so different from other girls i've been with, you see me. you don't look at me, you see me. like, okay, maybe you aren't the greatest at math, but you don't have to be a s.t.e.m. genius to be smart."

peter was getting raw, he was getting vunerable. "i don't know how to use a curling iron for the life of me, i don't know the difference between mascara and eyeliner. well, i do, but i didn't before you."

you looked at him, opening your mouth to speak. you wanted to tell him he'd lost you somewhere along the line, but figured it was important for him to get this out.

"you've got a different mindset than me, and i love that. you're the biggest feminist i've ever met, and wait until you meet may. i think it's interesting that your entire personality doesn't revolve around your degrees and resumes, because, god, people like that are annoying. most of all, you're confidence is amazing. i never had anything like that in high school."

you knew that he was a nerd, kept his head down, shoulders sagging. "i just... i'm sorry. i don't know why i said it. i'm a huge insecure jerk that thinks he can get away with crap by projecting it onto his lovely, amazing, wonderful girlfriend. you're my favorite person, and i can't help but think you'll leave me one day. i thought that if i acted like i didn't care... i don't know. i- i don't... i'm sorry."

you took moment, that's the longest he's ever spoken to you, but he wasn't done, apparently.

"also, i don't care about sex. i mean, it's nice and whatever, but what's the point of it if i don't have you. what i'm trying to say is, i'd pick you over that any day, okay? it doesn't matter to me. i'm not with you for that."

"thank you," you said, it seemed appropriate. basically, he just compliented you a whole lot, and it worked; you seem to have a thing for praising. "and i forgive you. also, i hated those stupid books, and if they weren't, like, alyssa's, i'd burn them."

you shuddered, "i can't believe i read them."

"really?" peter asked, hopeful. you kissed away a stray tear, looking into his wet eyes. "we're okay?"

"we're so okay," you paused, "but you have to watch bridgerton with me."

he groaned, "fine." (you knew he liked it, he just wouldn't ever admit to it.)

"wait, so just checking, you aren't into, like, intellectuals or whatever?"

"i'm into you," he said, "whether or not you idenify as one."

taglist: @whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r @idli-dosa @susvale @kdbsr-h @littlemsbumblebee @sflame15-blog @twinsunkithies @chocolateshepherddreamclod

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #spiderman #angst #tom holland x you #fluff #peter parker imagine #bimbo!reader #frat!peter #frat!peter x bimbo!reader #frat!peter x reader #peter x bimbo!reader

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echo-and-dust · 2 months

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now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

#young royals #wilmon #simon eriksson #prince wilhelm #yr spoilers #yr s3 spoilers #ad speaks #i don't know how they're going to tie everything together in under an hour but so far this season is strong enough for me to like it despit #what ending we receive #and i know i'm in the minority in that sense but i've been spending most of the hiatus trying to keep myself from setting expecations #so i haven't really been let down too much #i really don't want to let this show go though :'(#forever my heart #yr season 3 #young royals season 3

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thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

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Bad Idea, Right? - Part 3

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

What happened after Eris and reader were caught fooling around at the House of Wind?

Part 1 (Drabble) Part 2 Part 4

Warnings: sexual content, language, alcohol

One would have thought we were in the Winter Court, or perhaps an iced over Hel by the chill that took over the balcony.

My father’s mask of icy rage appeared less as a mask and more as a permanent fixation plastered on at the sight of Eris standing so closely to me. Uncle Rhys stared vacantly, with a slight hint of indifference masking his own face. Surely he was communicating with someone. Aunt Feyre? My father? Who knows.

It was my mother who let out a gasp, placing a hand over her chest. Her face glazed over as she spoke out to nobody in particular.

“The burning flame drives away the wild shadow.”

Whatever the hel THAT meant.

Well, whatever the hel it did mean clearly upset my mother as her eyes lined with silver, looking between Eris and I.

My father clenched his fists, beginning to launch forward in a stance promising violence against Eris.

Before I could scream at him to stop, Rhys shot out his power, instantly placating my father. Once again eliciting a gasp from my mother.

Eris stood still. A smirk plastered on his face. Whether that be his own mask or true amusement at the chaos unfolding around - I didn’t know. While my more sensible side should have taken over, heat warmed my insides at the sight of that amused gleam in his eyes, the tilted corner of his mouth. So fucking hot.

Between the chaos of Rhys trying to settle my father, my gawking at Eris in all his - well, just HIM in general - nobody noticed the palpable rage emanating from Lucien. While my mother chose my father over him, and Lucien and Vassa were living in marital bliss, the bond between mother and Luc was merely rejected and not broken. They had deemed it too much of a risk to face the effects of a broken bond and were able to become friends over the years. Clearly, Lucien was feeling whatever my mother had inadvertently cast through their barely in tact bond - as the mating instinct kicked in.

One moment, Lucien stood with a muscle ticking in his jaw, the next he’d winnowed in front of Eris in a whirl of fists, and feet, and flame.

Nobody dared intervene in the battle between a High Lord and another High Lord’s heir - a fight that certainly would have ramifications if it weren’t for the fact that the two were brothers who did care for eachother in their own messed up way.

My father stood, arms crossed, expression clouded with rage - though a slight gleam of satisfaction shone in his eyes at the sight of Eris getting his ass kicked - but mostly, it was icy rage showing there. He should be the one dueling it out with the male who triggered my mother’s upset, fucked his daughter, and that he just all around couldn’t stand anyway. If it wasn’t for Uncle Rhys ordering him otherwise, he would be joining in against Eris.

Fortunately, Eris was holding his own as he and Lucien landed blows to eachother at the same time. Eris wouldn’t have stood a chance against both my father and Lucien.

Lucien could be heard over the tangle shouting “You fucked my mate’s daughter!?”

Eris only chuckled as he continued pummeling his brother.

At that, Vassa who had stepped onto the balcony soon after Lucien had winnowed in, rolled her eyes mumbling something about needing another drink before walking over to Elain and extending an arm. Father, of course, was too busy glaring at the brawl before him - his shadows hissing with rage - to notice as the females exited the balcony together.

The two males began throwing sloppier hits, breathing heavier, flames simmering as they wore themselves down. It was Helion who finally burst onto the balcony using a powerful voice, the commanding voice of a High Lord, “Enough! Both of you!” sending a flare of power he cleaved the two apart, surrounding each with a shield that they couldn’t break out of.

Eris crossed his arms, taking a casual stance that oozed arrogance.

Lucien stood straight, eyes shooting daggers at his brother.

Helion approached me saying, “Come Y/N, you’ve seen enough of this idiocy.” and escorted me from the balcony. Leaving only my father, Rhys, Lucien, and Eris remaining. Helion turned back toward the males before stepping inside stating “the wards stay up until everyone can settle.”

I looked back to Eris with a wink. He only smirked back with feline amusement. He clearly had no regrets - and honestly, I couldn’t find it in myself to regret anything either.

Helion escorted me to one of the open bars, signaled for two shots of amber liquor. The barkeep worked remarkably quick as two glasses appeared before either of us could utter a word. Helion raised a glass to mine with a “Cheers to an evening well spent in the Night Court - never a dull affair.” I smirked before throwing the shot back.

“Thank you for separating those two.” I remarked. Helion only grinned. “Somebody had to - otherwise they would have been at it all night. Lucien eventually would have won though.” He winked. “He has my stamina.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Helion was always kind to me, with a sense of humor that aligned with my own. He made countless odious court functions far more tolerable with his wit and overall charisma. I couldn’t blame the males and females that fought tooth and nail for a night in his bed. Hell, if he didn’t feel like an honorary Uncle figure to me, I would gladly take any opportunity for a roll in the sheets with the gorgeous male.

Helion raised an eyebrow, casting his gaze behind me as Nyx quickly approached us. Most would see him as collected and unbothered, wearing the same mask as his father, but I could recognize the frantic look in his eye.

“Helion.” He greeted with a charming smile and a nod of the head. “Excuse me while I steal away my lovely cousin for a moment.”

I extended my hand toward Helion who placed a kiss to it. “Try to stay out of trouble, lady. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

I laughed, knowing damn well there was nothing he wouldn’t do. “Bye, Helion.”

Nyx looped his arm through mine stating, “You’ve got about two minutes before your father is in here looking for you. Dad sent me a warning that Azriel is on his way back from the balcony and he is pissed.”

“Shocking” I sighed. My heart racing just a bit though as this was absolutely NOT the conversation I wanted to have with my father right now. For fucks sake, I am an adult after all. I can sleep with whomever I want so long as there is mutual consent.

“Come on.” Nyx smirked nodding his head toward the exit, “Let’s get out of here.”

———————-

It was 30 minutes later that Nyx, myself, and Adish found ourselves at our favorite bar(that our parents didn’t frequent). Rita’s was great, truly, the owners kept up with the times, making it appealing to younger and older fae alike. However, we had no intentions of going there and risking any of the Inner Circle showing up tonight. So, our favorite hole-in-the-wall joint it was.

Nyx threw back the shot before him, the colorful lights of the bar reflecting off his raven black hair - his wings involuntarily tucking in tight as the Cinnamon Whiskey I’d ordered us hit the back of his throat.

Adish simply laughed. “One of the most powerful fae in Prythian’s history and you can’t keep a straight face with a simple shot of whiskey. Get it together, Nyxie.”

“Come on, now.” I cut in. “You’re at an unfair advantage here considering you could throw back a literal flaming shot without wincing. We can’t all be so lucky as to have fire burning within us.”

Of course Adish couldn’t help himself as a wink and Helion’s sense of humor jumped out, “I could fix that.”

I rolled my eyes “Thanks for the generous offer, Adish. But, I’ve got your Uncle to help scratch that particular itch.”

“Good gods.” Nyx muttered. “I need more alcohol.” Adish nodded in agreement. We chatted and drank for an hour before two gorgeous forest nymphs strode by looking the two males before me up and down with lust in their bright green eyes, their long legs barely covered by their mini skirts. Nyx and Adish turned to watch them, eyes trailing the females all the way to the dance floor before returning their gazes back to me.

“You two are insufferable.” I mused. “Go. Have fun.”

They thought on it for all of a second before hurrying out of their seats. “Oh, Nyx, if anyone asks, I stayed at your apartment tonight…. And all day tomorrow.”

Before Nyx could protest, I added, “Best get going before the males flirting with your nymphs take them home - and you two leave with nothing but your hands company.”

Without further hesitation, Nyx and Adish were off to the dance floor - and I was off to the Autumn Court.

—————-

Winnowing in to the Autumn Court’s keep - I removed the hood from my cloak, discreetly revealing my face to the guard of a rear entrance into the residential quarters. The guard opened the door with a grunt allowing me to stride through the quiet corridors toward Eris’ chamber.

I didn’t bother knocking on his door - there was no way he had time to make it back here and find himself evening companionship in such a short period of time. Even if he did, I’m sure we could all have a good time.

The smell of crackling fire and roasting chestnuts greeted me granting a minor relief as the scent was fresh. Well, he made it back alive then - at least there’s that. Not that I was actually concerned for his safety. I knew he’d make it back just fine and preferably with all of my favorite parts in tact.

I sauntered to a drawer where my favorite lace underthings were stored. Nothing quite suited the mood I was in tonight - so I decided against anything in the drawer and summoned my shadows.

Was this what my shadows were intended to be used for? Absolutely not - but they had no objections when it came to Eris. They were rather fond of him - much to my chagrin. Stripping out of my clothes, my shadows whispered over my naked form, trailing over to cover just the places I willed them. A shadow barely covering my full breasts, darkened but with just a tempting hint of transparency, allowing the outline of my nipples to show through.

One shadow thinly settled over my waist, while its tendrils drifted downward to my thighs, circling around them tightly as garters would. My most bold shadow covered the front of my pussy, leaving an opening right over its already dripping center, and coming back together at my ass, a shadowy imitation of a crotchless thong.

This was my - well, their - best work yet. I heard Eris stepping out of the tub in his bathing chamber as I spread myself on his bed - his own personal feast to devour.

Heat pooled in my core like burning flames as my pulse thrummed with anticipation.

“Well” his low voice growled, stepping into the room, “my little minx came out to play.”

Eris tsk’ed, strutting to the edge of the bed with confident ease. He looked like a damned deity with only a towel slung low around his waist, his abdominal muscles trailing into an enticing “v” that narrowed down into his towel teasingly close to exactly what I wanted to see, to lick, to taste to my heart’s content. My mouth watered at the sight of him.

Not letting him catch a glimpse of how badly I needed him I cooed, “Aww, Eris, did you miss me?”

Without replying, he grabbed my ankles yanking me to the edge of the bed, a squeal escaping my lips that I wasn’t particularly proud of.

“You left me in quite the compromising position back there, little one.”

I wrapped my legs around his torso, tugging him closer to the edge of the bed - leaving just enough of a gap between the apex of my thighs and his body that he could see my exposed sex. “It seemed to me that you were more than capable of handling yourself, High Lord.”

“Fuck,” he growled, as he leaned down, wrapping his muscled arms around me and hauling me up against him in one fell swoop. Chills spread through me as his teeth tugged at my earlobe. His voice turning dangerously low, “Do they know where you are tonight?”

“Is this what you want right now, Eris? To talk about my family?” He turned, making long strides toward the nearest wall, effectively pinning me in place. One hand raised to wrap around my neck, constricting only on the sides - slowing the circulation beneath just enough to lighten my head in the most pleasurable of ways.

“What I want, is a direct answer Y/N.” Squeezing his fingers just a bit tighter for emphasis. “Do they know where you are?”

“They think I’m staying at Nyx’s place tonight.”

Eris smirked, smugly replying, “Good. I’d hate for your father to burst in here while you’re screaming ‘Daddy.’”

I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips at the threat in his words. He was NOT going to go easy on me tonight.

Good.

Releasing the grip on my neck, Eris reached between us, loosening the towel around his waist and letting gravity do the rest. Looking down, my mouth watered at the sight of his very evident arousal.

The look in his eyes turned predatory as my shadows gently vibrated in anticipation of what was to come.

“Sweet girl, I love when you take control, but tonight - you are mine to fuck however I please.”

A desperate, pleading little moan fell from my lips at the danger in his tone.

Eris raised an eyebrow in response, “Eager to be disciplined, little one?”

I locked my eyes with his, my bottom lip pulled between my teeth to the point of pain as I nodded.

A chuckle bordering villainous escaped him - “Words, darling. Use your words.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Let’s begin.”

—————————

Eris (earlier that night)

The balcony had emptied out save for Eris, Rhysand, and Azriel. The latter shaking with violent rage.

Eris could remember years ago when Azriel had given him a small taste of the power he could exude should he be provoked. Looking at the rage on his face now, he knew that the anger Azriel felt then was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Eris almost felt guilty - almost.

Fortunately, should the Shadowsinger pounce, Eris could hold his own given the power bestowed upon him when taking the Autumn Court’s throne.

It was likely Rhyand’s earlier command and the fact that Eris was now a High Lord himself that kept the Shadowsinger from attacking.

Keeping his arrogant facade in place, Eris cleared his throat. “Call off your dog, Rhysand. Let’s talk this out High Lord to High Lord.”

Azriel’s cold voice cut in before his High Lord could respond - “You’ll be praying for a dog to rip you apart by the time I’m through with you.”

Rhysand held up a hand. “Enough Azriel, you can take your wrath out on Eris at a later time.” Amusement shown in the Night Court High Lord’s eyes. “I, for one, would like to hear what Eris has to say about this particular situation.”

Eris looked to Azriel and back to Rhysand, “I would like to speak to you in private.”

The ground shook with the flare of Azriel’s rage from the implied exclusion but Rhysand considered the request. Shrugging off the spymaster’s look that all but screamed don’t you fucking dare - he motioned toward the entryway. “Come then, let’s speak in my office.”

Rhysand escorted Eris to an office space within the House of Wind, tucked at the end of a quiet corridor, far from the earshot of any attendees. A flicker of motion in a dark corner not lit by firelight caught his attention. “I’ve known you for centuries now Rhysand, you think I don’t see the shadow listening to us in the corner?”

The High Lord dramatically rested a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What is it with all of this ‘Rhysand’ business? You wound me, Eris.”

Eris smirked with amusement. “If you see me as a friend worthy of speaking on such a casual basis - you will dismiss the shadow.”

Clearly communicating with the Shadowsinger, Rhysand’s expression glazed over for a moment and the shadow exited the room. Rhys then threw up wards around the space.

“Now, what is so pressing that my Spymaster couldn’t be involved in this conversation?”

“Despite the fact that I am fucking his daughter and would prefer to keep the details of the arrangement between her and I?”

A wave of darkness rolled off the High Lord at the crude mention of his niece. “Careful, Eris.”

A lazy grin crossed the Autumn Court High Lord’s face. “Care to make a bargain?”

Twenty minutes and a bargain tattoo later, Eris and Rhys exited the study together.

“Remember,” Eris said. “NOBODY finds out the details of our discussion. If the Shadowsinger or his daughter are made aware, I have every right to retaliate accordingly.”

Rhys simply picked at an invisible speck of dust on his tailored jacket, a casual irreverence masking his features. “Good luck, Eris. You’re going to need it.”

————————————————��——-

Stay tuned for Part 4!

A/n: I know you all have patiently waited for this and I want to thank you for your patience! January was an insane month (in good ways!) and it caused a delay for me. I hope you all like enjoy this new part. I will be adding at least one more part to the series.

Tags: @b0xerdancer

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alchemistc · 4 months

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an: I was cleaning out my drafts and ran into this nearly-finished piece of two disasters having their first kiss. Enjoy.

the way you feel when you kiss him for the first time like fire within your bones like your soul has returned to the water like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again

Here’s the thing. So. Like.

He’s kissing Eddie Munson, tongue and everything, hands digging into his crazy fucking hair, face twisted sideways because they’d been sitting there next to each other, close enough that their hips were touching, and Eddie was gesturing with both hands thrown wide, so that every once in a while his hand smacked Steve’s chest on accident and he murmured a quick apology before going back to his story, and Steve fucking loved listening to him rant and rave about whatever he had a bug up his ass about on any given day, he loved it so much and it seemed like the thing to do when you loved something about someone so much it made your chest tight and your head a little fuzzy.

Steve twists his head and slots his tongue over Eddie’s lips and Eddie makes a noise that Steve feels down to his fucking toes and he nips, just a bit, swallows up Eddie’s gasp and curls his fingers around his neck and licks into his mouth.

First kisses are usually either tentative or chaotic, and this one is sloppy as all get out but it’s not – it’s good. It’s so fucking good Steve thinks he could happily fucking die right this second and he wouldn’t even be mad about it. Eddie’s teeth slide along Steve’s lower lip when he sucks said lower lip into his mouth and Steve hums and blows a breath out through his nose and fleetingly imagines their entire lives expanding out before them – tables that for another day when he’s done more than make out with Eddie in the woods behind his house.

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”

It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone.

“What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?”

And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you that way that Eddie looks at him and.

“Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?”

“Whoops?”

Eddie’s on his feet then, his limbs akimbo as he throws his arms out, gesturing vaguely in Steve’s direction, looking at Steve like he’s grown like, three extra heads. Which. Okay so maybe he could have done better at like, explaining what the fuck he was doing but Eddie was so fucking hot when he got really in the zone with some rant or other and Steve’s been like, waiting for him.

“You can’t just go around kissing people, man!”

“I thought you were gay!” Steve says, like that explains a damn fucking thing, and Eddie whirls on him, wild eyed, like Steve’s just shouted some tightly kept secret to the world and… yeah. Alright. Fair.

“I thought you were the straightest fucking dude in America, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Oh,” Steve says, because that, yeah. That tracks. Okay. So. Yeah, he can work with this.

He runs a jittery hand through his air, glances up at Eddie through a few strands that cut loose from the hairspray. “Yeah uh, so I guess like, no? Chicks are like, great but then here you are being so fucking adorable I wanna like, put you in my fucking pocket to keep you safe and like, take you out on a date and, I don’t know, suck your cock or something. Which is.”

He’s rambling now, doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Okay so like I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of this before I fucking went for it but I have been thinking about your lips on my lips for way longer than I have been acknowledging to myself and you weren’t fucking doing anything about it and I just thought I could. Do something about it. So um…no. Not. Not straight.”

Steve imagines, for a moment, Hawkins High jocks fading out of the shadows to beat the shit out of him, bible thumping mothers intent on letting him know his sins will destroy the country and land him straight in hell, his own father telling him he won’t have a fag for a son. Feels really fucking shitty about it for about thirty seconds and then remembers he’s saved the world at least four times and internally tells them all to go fuck themselves.

“Hey, is there a word for that? Liking both? Do you – fuck, is there like, a handbook? Do you even know? Did – but then you’re – I mean I definitely for sure got the feeling you and Robin have more in common than just being really great at saving the world, also you for sure kissed me back and – holy shit Robin’s gonna be pissed you found out before she did.”

Eddie stares at him in abject horror for about thirty seconds, but it’s not – it’s not judgy, at least, it’s more like Steve looks at Robin when she word vomits. “Jesus H Christ did you just speed run gay panic?” Which – Robin has explained that before and if Eddie knows about it then he probably also is not…not gay.

“I don’t think I’m strictly gay!” Steve says, his voice a little higher than he’d like but Eddie is pacing now, which. Not conducive to more kissing, and it’s literally all Steve wants to be doing right now. “It might not even be dudes in general, I haven’t gotten any further than you!”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” And pacing be damned, Steve hops up and cages Eddie in again, leans forward for a kiss because he’s not, like, saying no, he’s just confused because he didn’t think Steve was into it and kissing will definitely help him figure it out. Only he rolls his head back, away from Steve’s, shoulders and neck rolling back. The rest of him stays, though, and Steve slots his hands on Eddie’s narrow waist and stares at him.

“I’m like, super into you, Eddie, and unless I’m suddenly really fucking bad at reading signals you’re also into me.”

Eddie leans forward, rolls his forehead against Steve’s. It’s nice. Not as nice as the kissing had been but…yeah, he’s cool with this. Eddie huffs out a breath of laughter, a self-deprecating little chortle that Steve recognizes and wants to dash away. “I’ve been trying really hard not to throw those signals. Just. Just so you know.”

“You’re really bad at it,” Steve tells him, fingers digging a bit into his side now, his left hand sliding towards Eddie’s back, and he doesn’t really think about it when he exerts a bit of force to drag Eddie a little closer. “To be like, fully clear here. I’m not… I haven’t been misreading, correct?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, those wide dark eyes holding Steve’s. “This is insane. People don’t just wake up one day and go ‘hey I’m actually totally attracted to my own gender and I have literally zero bad feelings about that’ – people kill themselves about it.”

“Nearly died enough times to know I don’t care for it,” Steve tells him, and he really, really wants to fucking kiss him again but probably Eddie needs a second. “Listen, do you like me or not, because if not I am seriously overstepping right now and I don’t actually want to make this weird.”

“This is so fucking weird, man,” Eddie says but then he’s curling his fingers into the end of Steve’s shirt and fisting it there before Steve has a chance to draw back and respect his boundaries, like he’s holding himself back from more but not quite ready to let go. Steve follows his lead. “Did Robin say something?”

“Robin has been literally zero help,” Steve admits, because she really has been fucking useless and cagey and completely unwilling to give him any idea if this whole thing is reciprocated or just a fully fucking unrequited crush. “I am actually pretty emotionally intelligent, so I figured…” God he’s giving Steve that look. Again. “Vibes were there.”

“Vibes.” Eddie says, like he wants to bash his brains in. “You… you just threw all caution to the wind on fucking vibes.”

“Vibes are a thing!”

Eddie curls the hand not already fisting in Steve’s shirt around his waist, his long fingers catching at the stripe of skin exposed by the pull of his shirt. Every thought in Steve’s head feels like it’s centered right there, where he can feel Eddie’s rings warm against his skin.

Steve is like, 97.3 percent certain at this point that he hasn’t just ruined a decently important friendship, and he really, really does want to return to that zenith of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, so he rolls his head again, nosing at Eddie’s cheek, reaching for his jaw.

Eddie shoves him back – slowly, regretfully almost.

“Give me a fucking second, Harrington.”

“Sure. Yeah.”

Even as Eddie goes back to pacing Steve feels good about this. Eddie Munson is probably a lot more accepting of things than most of the assholes in Hawkins but he has yet to tell Steve to go fuck himself and he seems more…overwhelmed than anything else. Surprised. He had just admitted he thought Steve didn’t go for that thing. Had he thought about it, beyond a passing ‘Steve the Hair Harrington digs the ladies’?

Jesus. He’s so fucking embarrassing. Even in his own goddamn brain.

Eddie whirls on him, opens his mouth. Shuts it and takes a few pointed steps further away from Steve. Steve very much hates that, but – time. Space. He can manage that. He takes the opportunity to enjoy the pull of Eddie’s jeans over his ass.

Holy shit, Steve thinks to himself as he ogles the other man, holy shit he’s so very much not straight and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to give Eddie his fucking second.

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Eddie says, and it’s probably aimed at Steve even though he still hasn’t actually turned back to look at him again. “You fully understand that what you just did screams absolute lunatic, right?”

“The – which part, exactly?”

“Steve, what if I wasn’t gay?”

It’s – kind of a sad question, if he’s being honest, because he’s suspected he likes dudes for maybe two weeks, even if it’s been nagging at him for literal months now, but he’s been that shitty kid who called people queer like it was the dirtiest word in the book, and he’s well aware at this point how fucking scary it is for anyone who is the least bit not ‘normal’ by societies standards. Especially if it’s actually true.

“I mean, I assume you’d probably give me a lot of shit and I would spend a good month too mortified to look at you before you let me off the hook?” But that question gets a little closer to the heart of it, the one thing Steve’s still a little worried about. “But…you are?”

“How the fuck did you even know?”

“The vibes!” He wiggles his fingers at that, widens his eyes like that will help Eddie understand. “And, you know. The general feeling every time you look at me like you’re half a second from eating me alive.”

“I do not!” Eddie says, a little scandalized, a little like he’s been caught out.

“You totally do. You have…very expressive eyes.” This is new. Just balls to the wall flaying honesty, right off the bat, no hiding behind a slick smile and a clever little wink. What even is flirting, Steve thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I fully thought you were gonna bend me over a table at Gary’s party last weekend.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie says, only he’s still not denying it, and he’s turning those same round shining eyes on Steve and – yeah. That is not a platonic fucking look. “I’m gonna take, like, three steps towards you right now. Can you. Not fucking attack me when I get there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.” Robin and Nancy once ganged up on him to tell him he was basically a golden retriever in human form, and he feels every inch one as Eddie takes long, measured steps towards him. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so fucking hard his ass would be wiggling.

“Full disclosure,” Eddie tells him at a step and a half in. “I was actually thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off until your soul left your body, at Gary’s party, last weekend.” Steve bites his lip, doesn’t say a word, ignores the heat thrumming in his veins. “Don’t you dare kiss me right now, Harrington,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that is very fucking interesting and Steve would like to explore more.

“Yep. Hands and lips to myself. Gotcha.”

“I also had a massive panic attack about it like five minutes later because you’re the best person I know and I will be fully, absolutely destroyed if I lose you, so. Before I set myself adrift here, are you sure you have a single fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Steve points, just as Eddie takes another step, so his finger ends up right in Eddie’s face and he’s eyeing it like he might just pop it into his mouth. In for a penny… “You got really mad at me when you thought I was avoiding you, and I very much, totally was because I have like, two age appropriate friends and figuring out one of them might be the love of my life threw me for a fucking loop.” Too soon, way too fucking soon, he was supposed to like, at least get Eddie in his bed before he admitted that. “So. I’ve already had that crisis and I know I lied and told you it was nothing but that’s. What that was.”

The look shifts. Eddie’s eyes were already wide, so his expression doesn’t change all that much, but his eyes get a little glassy and the dimple in his cheek twitches.

“Whoops,” Steve repeats and Eddie gathers up the hand Steve still has between them, guiding the arm down towards Steve’s side, lacing their fingers up together as he gets close enough Steve can feel his breath on his cheek.

“You’re an actual lunatic,” Eddie tells him, but he’s leaning in close, now, curling a hand around Steve’s neck. “Whoops, he says,” and Eddie shakes his head fondly, close enough that the tip of his nose swipes across Steve’s with the movement. “How long?”

“We’re still not kissing, right?” Steve asks, just to clarify, and Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “Yep. Still good with that. Sure. How long what?”

“Don’t play dumb, princess.”

“I mean – are you asking about me? Are you asking about me knowing about you? Are you asking about attraction, or feelings, or…”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and Steve supposes he walked himself into that. He’s still – Steve could count individual lashes dashed across Eddie’s eyelids, he’s so close.

“Yeah. Alright. Me? Been trying to sort it out for a while, I think, since Vecna. For sure? Two weeks ago, when you made me come watch your campaign finale, or whatever.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with interest, and Steve can see him searching for a specific moment, but it hadn’t been a specific moment, it had been an amalgamation of the last seven months of his life, and watching Eddie in his element, threading together a sweeping close to a tale he’s been working on for a full year, seeing the kids delighted faces, thinking about all the shit they’d been through and all the terrible things they’ve seen, it had all clicked into place. “You? I didn’t know, know. Just. Robin’s always saying there are signs, if you look for them. I hoped. I was looking for them.”

Had to talk himself into and out of reading into signs multiple times, honestly.

“I had some very confusing boners before I understood them, so I can’t really pinpoint that one, but a while,” and Eddie’s lips curl up, which is nice. It’s one of his favorite things to do, making Eddie smile like that. “The… I liked you from the start, is the thing, so there isn’t just a single moment but… you remember that night we got up on the roof of the van and got way too fucking high?”

“You couldn’t find the Big Dipper,” Eddie recalls fondly.

“Yeah, well, you were right there next to me, being all freakishly smart about constellations and looking at me and when you told me about your mom I wanted to just – tear the whole fucking world apart for you. So.”

“So,” Eddie says, and his voice has gone whisper soft and his breath is fanning across Steve’s face and his eyes are big and brown and soft at the edges.

“We’re still doing the no kissing part, right?”

Eddie hums. Tilts his head to the side just a bit, and his nose stripes across Steve’s cheek. “I could probably be persuaded otherwise.”

It’s – he’s –

“If I admit the panic might be coming on now, will you change your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’m very chill about this.”

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is so fucking soft, and his fingers are skittering up the side of Steve’s arm.

“Freaking out a little bit. Don’t – you can stay here, though.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“While we’re here, you could – I mean I know I said I clocked you pretty easily but if you wanted, I would definitely be okay hearing about – how. How that happened.”

Eddie’s eyes flit up, hold Steve’s. “You lying about anxiety to get me to tell you my dirty secrets?”

“I’m not that smart,” Steve tells him, and Eddie’s smile tilts up at the corners.

#steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve is a chaotic bisexual #that's just a fact.

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