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varlaisvea · 20 days

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You said it was OK to send you asks about eso npcs so...

There's an archivist in Summerset, Meredil at the Illumination Academy. He essentially gets possessed by the collective spirit of all the trashy romance novels he reads, but after the spell wears off he's terribly embarrassed of how forward he was with the Vestige.

Would you consider writing something where the Vestige visits him again afterwards? :3

Ah, thank you for the request! I had to go back and re-play that quest, so thank you for that too :)

I should warn you: unless requested otherwise, I think it's fun to write the Vestige as The Vestige, ie the race-less, genderless PC, the person with no memories who asks questions like what does a high king do, exactly? And for the record I don't mind writing ~spicy things, but I usually keep anon asks on the lighter side unless requested otherwise.

So, this is cheesy enough for [i am shot to prevent sheogorath jokes]. I HIGHLY doubt this is what you had in mind, but... enjoy?

Thank you so much for the request, anon! Anyone reading this should feel free to submit more, if the spirit moves you.

(2k words, PG-rated, allusions to sex)

----------

We check up on all the students and faculty as we’re leaving the Illumination Academy. A lot of them are embarrassed after being transformed into book characters, but Bastian and I had a great time here. For me, it was because I got to mess with people a little bit, which I rarely get to do when I’m Serving The People Of Tamriel. For Bastian, it was because we took the time to stand around and read dozens of musty books. I mean, the ones I read were interesting, but he was reading things with titles like The Quarandil Theses and Perspectives on First Era Pastoralist Poetry. I love the guy, but how would I even know if one of those books suddenly possessed him and became his personality, like happened to the students today? At least I learned a lot from everything I read.

I get distracted by the fish pond near the gate, and soon someone appears next to me—Meredil, the archivist I spoke to in the school.

“I'm glad I caught you—I really must apologize again for my forward behavior earlier,” he says, laughing a bit nervously. "This is not the first mishap we've had with the Library of Shrieking Terror."

“Oh,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “It wasn’t your fault. I don’t care at all. Your version of the curse actually seemed kind of fun.”

His laugh gets more nervous. “Well I’d never deny that, though ironically what remains of it gets less fun by the moment... Anyway, look, I realize this is quite awkward, given what I’ve just said about my… current state of affairs, but let that only serve to underscore the fervor of my curiosity.” He swallows uncomfortably, and looks away for a moment. “I must ask you: how is it that your armor is glowing like that?”

I’m not sure what I’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. “You know, I don’t know? I guess I assumed it was enchantments?”

He looks astonished. “You can’t possibly tell me no one has asked you before, in your line of work.”

I shrug. “I don’t really know what my line of work is. Lots of people call me ‘adventurer’—do you not see many adventurers in these parts?”

“Oh, goodness; I am only a hundred fifteen years old, but I have seen a fair number of adventurers in these parts.” His eyes go wide. “Oh, don’t listen to me,” he says playfully. “Since the Queen’s decree, we do see travelers and wayfarers of many sorts, but, well… I can’t say too many of them go into the depths of the archives.” He sighs. “Stars, I need to get out more.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, I’ve certainly seen some fancy adventuring gear but that…” He looks at my outfit in admiration. “Well-designed, well-fitting, and glowing! I’ve never seen a glow enchantment quite like that—I spent several long moments trying to calculate how one might go about amplifying an enchantment for such purposes before my curiosity got the better of me, and I hoofed it out here to see if I could find you to ask about it.”

“Ha, I really hadn’t thought about it much,” I say, now keenly aware of how brightly my gear is glowing, even in the late morning sunlight. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a better answer.”

“Oh, don’t apologize at all,” he says. “Really, I had to know if it was something simple I hadn’t thought of, and otherwise, I couldn’t miss my chance to talk with someone with access to something like that. I don’t mean to be off-putting, but I imagine you must be a wildly interesting person.”

“Ah, well…” For some reason I’m more honest with this mer than I usually am when people say stuff like that to me. “Actually, I don’t think I’m all that interesting, as a person. When that guy’s bored of you?” I gesture to Bastian, who’s behind me staring up at the sky in abject boredom. He doesn’t even hear me. “That’s dull. At first when I got here, I was trying the same boring tactics to un-curse people as the mer who cursed everyone to begin with, whom everyone only-semi-affectionately described as boring.” I turn around. “Hey B, sorry for taking so long bud, you can take five if y—” Bastian’s gone before I can finish the sentence. “See?”

Meredil huffs. “If you’ve managed to obtain adventuring gear like that, you automatically have at least one interesting story, no? Likely many more than one."

“Oh, yeah. I have a ton of ‘em.”

“Then, I am interested to know how one could live an objectively interesting life and not be an objectively interesting person.”

“Well, I don’t remember most of my life—long story—but I could tell you a few tales about fighting dragons, or rescuing royalty?”

“Wait!” Meredil laughs. “You’re not just some adventurer, are you! You’re the Vestige of Coldharbour!” He grins wide. “Am I right?”

“Lots of adventurers fight dragons and rescue royalty. Right?” You’d think this conversation would get easier.

“Handfuls of people, but yes. But most of them have songs sung about them—you know them when you see them.” He makes a thinking face with his hand to his chin. “You stopped the Planemeld.”

I nod.

He stares at me for a few moments. “I’d assumed that when you won your soul back from Molag Bal, you’d gotten your memories back too… But, your memory begins when you became a hero?”

“Pretty much,” I say, smiling as I do when I’m reminded that strangers know details about my life from bard songs and rumors. Several moments of uncomfortable silence pass.

“So, those dragon-slaying and royalty-rescuing stories are the only ones you’ve got,” he says, meeting my eyes.

“Uh, yeah…” I sit down beside the fish pond. “And now I have a pretty good one about this place.” We share a pleasant laugh. “So… what do you think is interesting? I’ve got vampire lords, risky assassinations, multiple giant crabs… One time the ghost of a pirate turned me into a skeleton for a little while.”

He shakes his head. “I may spend my days in a place that could be mistaken for a mausoleum, cerum, but this tomb has books in it—I’ve read and catalogued all sorts of monster stories and political plots. Of course it is my honor to do so, but that has been much of my exposure to the world.” He sits down next to me. “But a perspective like yours, I don’t think I’d find in a book. Stumbling into an extraordinary life with no memory of an ordinary one. Learning about the world by saving it. Learning about people while constantly seeing them at their worst.” He smiles expectantly.

I just stare at him. “Ah, well…” No one says stuff like that to me. “I’ll be honest, I still don’t know what’s going on a lot of the time.”

“How would you? There are little children older than the length of your memory.”

Why have I never thought of that? “Most people ask about the ancient temples and Daedric demi-planes I’ve seen—or if they’re drunk, they ask how many famous people I’ve slept with.”

“Oh, I hate when I’m asked that question,” Meredil says dryly.

“People ask me about stuff they’ve heard I’ve done. I guess I’ve just always figured that means I’m not very interesting as a person? But honestly, it doesn’t bother me—I don’t have any memories to compare it to. And I can’t really blame people for asking about my adventures instead of asking about me—today was a fairly slow day for me, if that tells you anything.”

Meredil stares at me with a sad sort of look I can’t decipher.

“Um. I actually read a lot of books." Why am I lying to this mer? “Well, I skim some of them. But, uh… they’re a surprising amount of my exposure to the world, too.”

“You’re learning about statecraft and magic at the same time you’re learning, er… how to… socialize, make friends!" Meredil smiles at me, amused. "You’ve had to figure out the plots of Princes while you figure out how to navigate small talk.”

I nod slowly. “I have to ask a lot of stupid questions, but I’m learning.”

Meredil laughs. “Cerum, that is far more interesting than slaying dragons! And you wear armor fit for Auri-El himself!”

“Thank you,” I say, not knowing what else to say. “People don’t usually…” I trail off as I meet his eyes.

“Well, it’s wonderful to meet you," he says excitedly. "If not for that curse, I’d never have hit on the Vestige of Coldharbour, eh? Imagine! Ha! I can’t wait to write Mother. It is an honor to have flirted with you,” he says, bowing his head.

“Ha, I don’t know about that,” I say. “Flirting is one of those things I’ve had to learn along with slaying undead and such. I’m way better at re-killing liches. I mean, sorry, you were great at it, in my opinion—you’ve definitely read the books."

“I’m flattered that you appreciated my technique, ceruval. Those steamy books certainly increased my skill and potency, though; I could feel it. And the confidence they gave me…” He looks at me with a seductive grin. “Oh, imagine if you’d come upon me after I’d had a chance to read a bit more? I might be asking you a thousand fascinated personal questions with far fewer clothes, and from the comfort of a warm feather bed.” He looks away with faux innocence. “That offer is still good, of course.”

People say things like that to me all the time. I usually laugh and change the subject, but I find myself just staring at Meredil, trying to think of something funny to say. Why am I trying to think of something funny?

Meredil notices my lack of response, and hastily clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says, “the curse has been broken, but the downside of my particular variant is that its effects still very much remain, with no magic necessary.” He laughs nervously. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see to the situation.” He doesn’t move. “Uh, but… I can’t quite stand up just yet. You’ll need to walk away first, I’m afraid.”

I don’t move. “I realized something... interesting,” I say, after what feels like a very long pause. “I need to learn more about flirting and, uh, you know, all of that. I remember you saying you know where each and every one of those steamy books is filed. Don’t you?”

He stares at me in utter fear for just a moment, then says, quietly, “It would be my deep pleasure to guide your hand to them, of course. But I am in no state to assume I have taken your full meaning correctly, cerum. Tell me, am I being propositioned by the Vestige of Coldharbour?”

I panic a little—I wanted to read the steamy books; I wasn’t propositioning him. Was I? He was uncommonly kind to me… Was I? Guess I really don’t know anything about flirting. But… come to think of it, I do have several friends who can flirt their way into a bank vault or chieftain’s tent. What would they do? Razum-dar would instantly think of some wordplay that is simultaneously threatening, solicitous, and clever—I try to do that. First I shoot Meredil my best Jakarn eye-twinkle. “Hm, even if you are being propositioned by the Vestige of Coldharbour,” I say, with sultry Naryu nonchalance, “do you really think anyone would believe a story like that?” This marks the first time I have ever propositioned someone using that title, or any of my many titles. Feels slimy. Probably won’t try it again.

Luckily, Meredil is not put off. “Why assume I’m in it for the story?” he says. “Perhaps you’ll be the one telling the tale. Tales, preferably—especially after that curse, what I have to share could fill volumes, Vestige.”

We only get through one book, but it takes the rest of the day and evening. Meredil's feeling much better now, and he says I am welcome to return to Illumination Academy anytime I need more study. And it seems I’ve misjudged my dear friend Bastian Hallix: it turns out, Perspectives on First-Era Pastoralist Poetry is graphically sexually explicit and, in places, lyrically erotic. Interesting.

#elder scrolls online #eso #tesblr #meredil #bastian hallix #fic request #requests welcome! it takes me a few days but then you get... uh... this #love this quest lol 'i don't know why we even HAVE a library of shrieking terror' —guy who took a book from the library of shrieking terror

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mexicanarama · 2 years

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tell us abt the fork incident please

i did not expect anyone to actually ask, but of course! similar sentiments and thanks to the anon who asked as well!

it is 2016. It is the autumn of my final year of university, and i live in a house with three of my best friends in the world, and Ricky (not his real name). ricky is a friend of a friend but we all try to make him feel welcome when he moves in. I like ricky well enough. time passes and we all spend less and less time with ricky, which happens. we’re all busy, and he starts hanging out mostly in his room. all fine. ricky had his own troubles and hopes and dreams, much like us. He didn’t really cause any trouble, in the grand scheme of things. but he had. a habit.

ricky would take stuff out of the kitchen and into his room, and then he would leave it there. the things he took were from our communal kitchen, and when we needed them, they usually weren’t there. you would have to knock on his door and ask for the cutting board, or the big bowl, or your own goddamned mug back, which he would consistently pretend not to have, i assume more out of embarrassment than spite. you could in fact get your things back, with persistence. most. of. the time.

the only things we could not recover were forks. a little after christmas, i realized we were running low. keep in mind, there were five actual residents of this house, and three of us had partners who basically lived there too. that’s eight people, and simply not enough forks to go around. I bought ten more forks without thinking too hard about it.

around easter, the second time we started to get dangerously low on forks, it became a curiosity, still mostly funny, as we wondered why ricky was taking them, what was actually happening to them, and why they were completely unrecoverable. we had three forks total when my parter at the time bought us fifteen more as a bit. we laughed. we wondered. we had cutlery again.

two months later, may 2017. we only have three forks, AGAIN, and this time i have had enough. the kitchen is my responsibility, i keep it clean, and full of baked goods, and i refuse to spend my money on MORE FORKS three months before we move out, because ricky is, i don’t know. eating them, or something. i do not buy more forks. i let us get down to one single, solitary fork.

and here, we are at an impasse. if ricky takes the last fork, i assume he knows we will all collectively lose it and put him on trial, in the group chat and also in our physical parlor. he can’t abduct that last coveted fork, and i can’t buy more. so we. live. like. that.

for two months, eight adults shared one fork breakfast lunch and dinner. i would be cooking, and have to run upstairs to ask my friend if he was done with ‘the fork’. people would come over for fresh baked pie, and i would happily tell them, let me get you ‘the fork’! “The fork?” they would say. “Yes!”

Eventually my roommate's girlfriend caved and started stealing plastic cutlery from the dining hall, so for the last few weeks we all lived together the situation was marginally improved. but we did in fact leave that house about thirty forks emptier than we found it, that august.

in that time, things deteriorated in other ways between us and ricky (he voted tory in the snap election), so i actually hadn’t seen him for a while by the time i moved out, a few weeks before he did. good BYE and godspeed you son of a bitch, you loved forks.

#storytime

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quotidian-oblivion · 1 year

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Congratulations on your 100s! That is super awesome!

Since you asked for a prompt, I've got a fluffy and a whumpy idea, but ofc don't feel obligated to do either:

Whumpy: Someone Dangerous discovers that 9yo Timmy knows who Batman is...

Fluffy: Damian collecting a series of increasingly non-domesticated animals and naming them after his siblings. When asked, he gives an embarrassing reason (the turtle is called Drake bc he moves at the same speed Drake's neurons fire), but the internal monologue reveals something really sweet (turtles are slow and careful, reflecting Tim's strategic nature)

Congratulations again, and have fun writing whatever drabble you choose!

Me, munching on an easter bunny chocolate at 3:04 am in the morning and reading this: *whisper-squeals* Thank you *voice cracks*

This is honestly one of the best day (night) of my life??? Not only a 100 followers on Tumblr and Ao3, but an ask from sardonic-sprite? LORD have mercy on me because I'm about to melt.

I love the prompts so much!!! I think I might do both since it's just gonna be drabbles and I don't need to go too deep (bcuz honestly, I'm exhausted from the last ten nights of Ramadan where some Muslims stay up all night). So... Imma just post it here then post them both on ao3 when possible.

Thank you so mcuh sprite 🥲 I appreciate it.

WHUMPY:

Pluviophile

Tim hated the rain.

The wet clothes, the soggy socks, the squelch of the shoes, the water showering from the sky and barging into people’s lives; an uninvited guest. Not to mention the increased risk of pneumonia and hypothermia for someone who didn’t have an umbrella or a warm(er) jacket. He really should have been more prepared.

But his camera bag was torn from last night’s mishap with the drunk muggers and he really wanted to go out tonight because Nightwing was coming to Gotham after three months and he and Robin always got up to the best of shenanigans when together. He had nearly half a wall filled with printed pictures of their endless pranks, most of them on Batman himself.

Looking at the pictures, it wasn’t hard to imagine that Batman was secretly a softie. That Bruce Wayne was secretly a softie.

Tim sighed and tugged the not-thick-enough jacket closer around himself, leaning back on the fire escape rails and gathering the motivation to get up and leave the snug, rare dry spot under the roof to go catch his bus. It was time to call it a night, but Tim didn’t want to leave.

Rain loudly splattered onto every surface, sounding like a million bins dancing to a jig.

“Should you be out here?” a voice called from below.

Tim startled, but kept still. He had plenty of experience being silent and invisible. Maybe the man below was speaking to someone else?

“I am addressing you, child.”

Maybe there was another child?

“We’re the only two people here. Everyone else is fast asleep.”

Tim gulped and didn’t move, he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Very well.”

There was silence. It stretched out for several minutes, only the sound of thudding rain echoing in the alley. Tim stopped counting at 560. He finally released a long shaky breath and opened his eyes, only for thunder to boom and lightning to strike, showing a large man sitting right in front of him.

Tim gasped, but his breath got caught in his throat, so a squeak came out instead.

The man grinned, his bushy black beard parting way to a scary smile. Two scratch scars on his face scrunched up as his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Hello,” he said, clearly audible over the storm.

Tim gulped.

“I won’t hurt you if you take a moment to listen to me.”

Tim’s hands started shaking.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” The man shifted, sitting in a criss-cross position on the fire escape and taking up most of the space, leaving only a few inches gap between the two of them. His dripping coat released water, spreading the puddle enough to touch Tim’s legs. Tim pushed himself further into the fire escape rails.

“My name is Vandal Savage,” began the man in a deep, calm voice. “And I have come to seek help from you.”

Me? Tim wanted to ask, but his throat was still clogged up.

“I came upon a source that said that you were a rare bright child. An interesting and possibly dangerous specimen.”

I’m not an animal for you to bid, Tim wanted to retort, but his voice failed him once again.

“I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll keep this brief.” Vandal Savage leaned forward. “Is it true? That you know who the Batman is?”

An unexpected sound pulled itself up his throat, resembling something between a squeak and a growl. Tim winced.

Vandal Savage eyed his face, then his body, scrutinizing his body language. Tim shifted uncomfortably. “Come with me,” he then suddenly said.

Tim stilled once more. But this time, his throat finally started doing its job. Tim swallowed and hoarsely sounded out a very confused, “What?”

“Come with me,” Vandal Savage repeated.

His breathing was morphing into short bursts of undiluted panic. “Wh— Why— What if I say no?”

Vandal Savage tilted his head. Then he smiled.

Chills crawled up and down Tim’s spine and he knew that he was doomed.

Savage did not say anything else, he stood up and jumped down the fire escape, landing on the ground with a soft ‘squelch’. He took one last glance at Tim before walking away.

Tim sat unmoving for a few seconds, catching up on his breath.

He wasn’t going to follow him. No way. That was crazy. He was going to go home. Mhm, he was going to go home and huddle up in his cozy bed, plop some headphones on and blare music loud enough to keep the memory away. Savage didn’t say that he was going to hurt him if Tim refused, so it should be safe enough. He wasn’t going to follow Savage. He wasn’t.

Tim took a deep breath and picked up his camera, shoving it into his bag. Curse this whole night. Couldn’t he have waited until tomorrow to take some pictures? It wasn’t like Nightwing was going to leave after just a day. He wasn’t his parents.

He hoisted his bag on his shoulders and climbed down from the fire escape. He looked down at the ground, ignoring the rain and the chills still running down his spine, when he collided with a fully solid surface. He looked up to see Savage, smiling down at him. A Cheshire cat smile. Except without the teeth.

Savage did not grab his wrist to pull him towards where he wanted to go. He just turned and walked.

Tim was not following him. He was not.

His steps fell behind Savage, squelching through the gray, dirty Gotham rain.

Suddenly, a flash of red and yellow got caught in Tim’s peripheral vision. He stopped walking. So did Savage.

Robin and Nightwing were talking animatedly with each other on just the next roof. Batman was nowhere to be seen.

Tim stared at them, mentally urging them to turn around, look here, please! But they never did. He didn’t know if Savage would hurt him if he yelled or tried to get their attention. He could, however, kick the empty can in front of him.

Trying to be as casual as possible, he brought his foot slightly backwards and punted the Pepsi can, making it crash against the fire hydrant at the side.

Thunder just then decided to clap against the sky. Lightning followed suit and Robin and Nightwing disappeared. The can came to a stop.

“I love the rain,” Savage said, smiling at the sky. “I’m a pluviophile. It’s so peaceful, isn’t it?” He turned to Tim.

Tim felt his bones seize with dread and he looked down, resigned.

“Come,” Savage prompted, stalking forward, his feet barely making any noise.

Tim followed, his shoes filling up with water and soaking his socks. He didn’t know where he was being led, but at least he could enjoy his home city one last time.

FLUFFY:

Regarding The Workings Of A Zoo

“What. The fuck.”

“Tt. I knew I had accurately named my turtle.” Damian threw some more turtle feed into the pond. “Drake is a most excellent turtle. Much unlike his predecessor.”

Tim turned to Dick. “Are you seeing this?”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Seeing what?”

“Damian replaced me with a turtle.”

“It’s not my fault that his movements fire faster than your neurons, Drake.”

Dick gave an insecure smile. Tim glared at him and folded his arms.

“What about the chicken?” Steph asked, popping another grape into her mouth from the large bowl she was holding.

“Her name is Todd.”

Dick’s snort quickly turned into a cough.

Jason looked up from the frog. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused,” Damian simply said, patting Drake the turtle’s head as it neared him.

“What’s the frog then?” Jason frowned.

“Brown.”

Steph choked on a grape. Tim thumped her back. “Now that’s mean,” she said once she stopped coughing.

Damian shrugged.

“Who am I then?” Dick asked, sounding curious but hesitant at the same time.

Damian looked at him straight in the eye and declared, “Meerkat.”

The four of them bulged their eyes at him.

“And where is it?” Dick questioned.

“He’s on his way. I needed time to prepare a room for his mob.”

“What are we, a zoo?” Tim scrunched his nose.

“Tt.” Damian rolled his eyes, closing the turtle pellet jar. “I must take my leave now. I have school. Do not touch my pets while I am away.”

They watched as he walked away haughtily, nose stuck up in the air.

“Tell me why Bruce allowed him to have pets again?” Tim voiced out loud.

“He survived a League attack without killing anyone. It’s actually a pretty big achievement,” Dick replied.

Jason groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This family is fucked up in so many ways.”

Steph kicked him in the shin. “You’re one to talk.”

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

Dear Mother,

I am required to write this letter to you as part of my school assignment, but not post it. It should be handed back to my so-called “teacher” at the end. I did not originally have a topic, but after much deliberation with Father, I finally settled upon writing about my new pets.

This isn’t meant to be shown to anyone, so if someone reveals this information, they will be found by GCPD in a street corner as a cold corpse at precisely midnight there will be consequences.

Firstly, I have Drake the turtle. He is a very nice and gentle creature with eyes that constantly smile though they are dark. I’ve named him Drake because he is slow and careful, much like the real Drake’s strategic nature. Drake the turtle at first did not like me when I neared him at the beach. However, once I showed myself as a friend and proceeded to help him with the plastic bag around his shell, he did not like leaving my side.

Secondly, I have Todd the chicken. From the times I have seen him at the manor and the rare occasions I go to his safehouse when injured, I have observed him constantly worrying and fretting about the tiniest thing. He worries whether someone has eaten, or drunk water, or has a scratch, or even a paper cut. Grayson once described him as a “mother hen”. And Todd the chicken, when I saw her, she was fretting over her chick who was rejecting a worm. Immediately, I made the connection.

Then, there is Brown the frog. I told her that I named him Brown because he was as ugly as her, but that was not the truth. Once during our other school assignments, I discovered that frogs symbolize rebirth. Brown truly made up her own identity, by herself, might I add. I… I still struggle with my past, Mother. I am ashamed to admit but…

In any case, Brown has gotten over that obstacle. I wish she would teach me how. Brown the frog on the other hand, is extremely bubbly and never stays still. It was accurate of me to name him after Brown.

Finally, there is Grayson the meerkat. Grayson is confused, he does not know if it is an insult or a compliment. He does not know that meerkats have one in their mob look out for danger, constantly keeping the others safe. I’ve seen Grayson scan an environment like the arcade before letting me roam free. He is worried, and does not know how else to show. I am hoping he will learn to calm down once in a while. Like Grayson the meerkat who always joins in to play with his mob no matter what.

I know you are not very fond of pets, Mother. But I still think about Noora, the bird you once gifted me during my stay at Nanda Parbat as a child. I am thinking of getting another bird, but… I am not so sure. I feel worried that I might lose it if I get another bird. Much like how I lost Noora to Grandfather. I hope you are keeping her grave clean as I am not there to do so myself.

I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Mother. Including bringing me to Father’s family. His whole family.

Kind Regards,

Damian

These were supposed to be drabbles. Not around a thousand words long! In any case, it's 6AM and my eyes are burning. I got a little too into things and, uh, yeah finished both of these in one sitting.

Thanks so much for the prompts again, Sprite! I loved them!

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gwydionmisha · 1 year

Text

Advice to the Able-Bodied Poet Entering the Disability Poetics Workshop - Liv Mammone

For Jennifer Bartlett and Shira Erlichman

1. Let's just save time—Yes I have seen Rain Man, The Miracle Worker, My Left Foot, or, more recently, The Theory of Everything. I wanna fuck Daniel Day Lewis too but can we not? 2. If all the the Special Needs Kids everybody's mom/cousin/friend/friend's mom/cousin's friend's mom has ever worked with got together, they could overthrow the government and we'd see some real change. Those people aren't reference points for me. There are no reference points for me. 3. This isn't the Whose Life Sucks More game. You have seen moments I can never imagine. 4. When asking about my disability, please remember you have Siri. What you really need to know will come up in the poems. 5. Similarly, if you decide you need to ask my diagnosis, I can guarantee those ugly sounding words are all I have in common with whoever you know. If you don't know anyone, asking me what does that mean isn't ingratiating. I'm not a painting by Warhol. Asterisk: if you're just meeting me and that's your opening? That, or so what happened to you—you're suspect. I have a favorite band, a gaggle of furry children. Let's start there. 6. The words disability, disorder, and disease aren't synonymous. 7. And while we're at it, let's talk about language. You're here for that above all right? Me too. But I get to decide how it's done, not you. If I say cripple, it's because I like how the consonants break like bones. I'm not handing you a membership card. If I say call me "special needs" and I'll roll over your foot, it doesn't mean that softness won't comfort others. Political correctness is kind of like using correct pronouns. So many words have been made up and thrown onto my flesh. None were my name. 8. If you didn't get the above reference to pronouns, I'll write a separate piece for you. 9. Your ear will need to curve around the rhythm of speech. Your pace will hunger to leave me limping. You will want to catch me as I lurch forward; lead me by elbow or hand; not to repeat yourself; to talk as fast as you do out there. Slow down. Slow everything down. 10. The phrase but you don't look sick can go fuck itself with a moving train covered in chainsaws. 11. Don't use the word inspiration unless you're talking about Whitman, Langston Hughes, John Keats or Jesus. 12. Matter of fact, leave Jesus out of it altogether; he's busy enough. 13. It isn't a wheelchair; it's a fully automated battle station. It isn't a cane; it's a dowsing rod. It isn't a limp; it's a swagger. It isn't a stim—it's how my fabulous self is pulling magic out of the air. 14. I'm not your metaphor. Phantom limbs, deafness, or blindness as figurative language in your poems will result in my unhinging my fucking jaw. 15. If you find yourself saying something that begins with no offense, but I want you to stop. Take a breath. And say to yourself these three sentences: Does this need to be said? Does this need to be said right now? Does this need to be said right now by me? If the answer to any of those is no, return to start do not collect $200. 16. Laugh. 17. Be honest. 18. Your head had best be a microscope. Ask yourself why you're here. But question my motives, too. Slam your hand hard on my buttons. 19. Some kind of dragon needed slaying to get to this room, whether it be the nasty bus driver or the thoughts of suicide. So somebody's probably gonna show up in pajamas, crocks, mismatched socks, un showered, hair falling loose from ponytail—whatever. Either they're embarrassed or don't give a fuck. Either way, they don't need you mentioning it. 20. Speak for me, not over me. 21. Yes, I can have sex. I hope everybody in here writes a jam so graphic it makes your goosebumps mambo just so you never ask a disabled person that ever again, unless you're offering. 22. I don't think shy people become poets, but in case you are, you best chill if you fear the body. If I'm gonna write a colostomy bag free verse or a pantoum about how hard it is to negotiate my period on crutches, I wanna do it in peace. 23. You need Advil? Guaranteed, somebody got you. 24. If I have to leave the room while you're reading, sorry in advance. 25. Let me point out, Tiny Tim has been fucking me over since 1843. If I'm happy, it's taken for a miracle; if I'm not, I remind them of all they have and all the work they have to do. I could be a big smile, a raised fist, an eye glittered with tears. 26. This is the place I come to sharpen my teeth; to weep until I am the Danube. I don't care if you're frightened. 27. Trigger warnings. That is all. 28. Halle Berry, Harriet Tubman, Orlando Bloom, Clinton, Christie, Darwin. A lot of your faves are disabled. Just like a lot of your faves are actually bisexual. (More breaking news at 11.) 29. And while we're on that, being disabled doesn't mean you've checked off your minority box on the form. Just saying. 30. I don't want to talk about me; how's my stanza structure? 31. Intersectionality isn't a buzzword. 32. I will ask if I need your help. Repeat this a billion times. 33. Related note: you wouldn't grab someone on the subway. You'd let your face smash into the pole before steadying yourself on the person next to you. So why in the name of God's teeth would you touch me or whatever apparatus I may have without asking?! 34. Remember, you're one slip in the shower, doctor's visit, missed turn away from being me. 35. If I fall, the way you gasp hurts worse than impact. 36. I'm not blaming you. I'm saying pay attention. 37. Inevitably, someone will be forced to stop coming. Email them; that'd be cool. 38. Even if you pity me, don't mess around when it comes to editing. 39. Your body is so damn fucking beautiful. It's like nothing else. 40. Please remember that compliance with any or all of the aforementioned will not result in praise of any kind, cookies, medals, or otherwise. Thank you. 41. People are like poems. They don't get finished, they just stop.

#Advice to the Able-Bodied Poet Entering the Disability Poetics Workshop #Liv Mammone #Poem #Poetry

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dbstaches · 2 years

Photo

THIS CHARMING MAN

Dave Ball in Zigzag magazine, March 1984 issue - full article text bellow

Following our interview with Marc Almond in ZZ 3 we complete the set with Dave Ball. Paul Barney asked the questions, Linda Rowell* took the photographs.

Okay, you made me do it. I’ve turned it off. I’m talking about the new Soft Cell 12″ ‘Down In The Subway’. I want to flip it over but instead I shall leave the beefy brilliance of their version of Johnny Thunder’s ‘Born To Lose’ (hear it, buy it, you owe it to yourselves!) and tell you about an afternoon I spent in the company of Dave Ball in the living room of his London flat. Ushering me inside Dave smiles and proffers tea. It’s a small room, Dave’s keyboards standing majestically in the intimacy. My heart passes on secret information to my bladder and I have to make the first of my visits to the bathroom [DAMMIT] just when I wanted to be cool and collected.

Dave plays me the new and final Soft Cell album ‘Last Night In Sodom’ and it’s a breathtaking affair. Lots of drums, Marc’s voice reaching and winding its way down my back. ‘Meet Murder My Angel’ featuring Dave’s wife Gini Hewes on the most gorgeous backing vocals. ‘L'esqualita’ is seductive, inspired by New York club for transvestites where they mime to Spanish songs dressed obviously to suit such activity and another standout track is ‘The Best Way To Kill’. A relentless beat. (The title comes from a Sun headline where they asked their readers which method of capital punishment they preferred!) A lot faster than most of the previous album. It was recorded and mixed in five weeks at Britannia Row.

I love it madly but how do you feel? DAVE: “Of all the three Soft Cell albums, it's the one we're most satisfied with because we've been totally involved with it and had total control from start to finish. Rather than working with outside producer ... the ideas come purer.”

Weren't you happy with Mike Thorne's production then? DAVE: “I think we were at the time but he was more into making a name as a star producer. That's fair enough but not if you're a band and depending on someone else to help you get the sound you want. He was more into commercial safety if you like.”

How did you get that sound on ‘Numbers’? (To convey this I am forced to make a noise like a sick penguin, embarrassing!) DAVE: “I used a bass guitar going through an envelope generator. It's like a filter off a synthesiser. It's jus an effect pedal. I'll show you one. (Showing me the device.) Quite simple really. It's just a different context to hearing those sort of things.”

To digest these technical facts calls for a cigarette. Dave suggests a can of beer and whilst he is in the kitchen I'm off to the toilet again. The interview resumes.

Are you a shy person? DAVE: “I'm not shy like now but I am when in front of a lot of people. Marc's got something that really holds people's attention. He's more of a showman. I'm not interested in being a performer. I've never concentrated on it. I never needed to. I always relied on Marc.”

Were you unhappy with ‘In Strict Tempo’? DAVE: “I probably said something like I wasn't totally satisfied with it. It's not really meant to be thought as an album in that sense of being a collection of songs ... It wasn't released with intention of being a chart album. The ideas for new Soft Cell album were initially ideas I got from doing ‘In Strict Tempo’. It was testing ground. People try to read too much ... Like the track ‘Rednecks’. People actually thought I was being serious. The funnest thing is that people from America see the joke but English people don't seem to see it's a total pisstake of that area of America and the country music and the bigotry.”

A lot of tongue in cheek, isn't it? DAVE: “Of course ... Yeah, like on that tribal number, the voices on that are speak and spell.”

I thought it was you (why did I have to say that?) DAVE: “I think maybe I disguised the fact that it was a synthesiser and electronic too well. I just thought the idea of using one of them for a tribal chant was quite amusing!”

Did you get emotional doing the last Soft Cell gig at the Palais? DAVE: “No, I was more emotional doing the video for ‘Soul Inside’. Y'know tearing up the posters. That was the first point when it sunk in, ‘this is coming to an end’, but I don't feel upset about it because we're happy with what we're leaving behind.”

What is this film you've done the soundtrack for? DAVE: “It's called Decoder, a German film. I think they've completed it now. It's going to be shown at the German film festival and I think they'll dub it over in English so it will probably be shown at a few cinemas over here. Maybe just the ICA or bigger cinemas. It's also going to be released on video.” “The film is about muzac, the sort that's used in supermarkets and hamburger joints. Some of the music is by Neubauten, in fact Mufti is the star of the film and William Bouroughs and Christiane F are in it as well. Gen (Genesis P) makes a cameo appearance as an underground preacher. It's quite interesting. Mufti discovers a way of making anti-muzac so instead of pacifying people like muzac does, ot antogonises them and causes riots. I suppose it's very heavy and bleak, very German.”

Future plans? DAVE: “I'm writing a couple of things for Psychic TV to return the compliment for Gen appearing on my album and I'm supposed to be writing some material for Cristina (of Ze records). Do you know her?”

Sort of. DAVE: “I had a meeting with her and Michael Zikha in America late last year. Anybody who asks me if I'm interested in writing or contributing, if it sounds interesting, I do it. “I still want to have a main thing you could call it a group, but ot might end up as a just a couple of people and myself, but again it'll be different from Soft Cell.”

Are you still going to work with Alan Vega? DAVE: “I don't know about that anymore. We talked about it a year and a half ago and nothing happened. His attitude that came over in Zigzag ... I didn't like the way he made me feel guilty as if I owed him a favour. The only similarities between Soft Cell and Suicide was the fact that there were two people, one of them singing and the other playing a keyboard and they used a drum machine. But because we said in an early interview we really liked Suicide, people think they were a direct influence and we were trying to copy them but there's nothing similar at all. I wouldn't want to work with him because he feels I owe him something.”

Is there much unreleased stuff that might see the light in the wake of Soft Cell? DAVE: “There are loads of songs we did when we first started, but we'd never release those, they were just backroom demos. “I think everything we've recorded after this album comes out and the single will have been released. That's one reason why the album is a bit longer than normal. It's because we wanted to make sure everything came out. I hate the idea of leaving stuff unreleased because you never know a year later you might be doing something else and somebody decides to release something you didn't want out then ...”

... and you don't want out now. DAVE: “It's like what they're doing with John Lennon. He's an amazing bloke, still doing albums and he's dead. Pretty good that! “I find it sick. It would be alright if it was just released to make it available to the fans but they're not ... it's tasteless.”

We are both chainsmoking. I catch a glimpse of Sooty flickering away in silence on a small black and white telly in the corner. Dave plays me a really jazzy instrumental continuation of Soul Inside. It's wonderfully chaotic but since you're unlikely to ever hear it on with the interview.

Will you do anymore singing? DAVE: “You call that singing?”

Yeah. DAVE: “Possibly doing backing vocals.”

Don't you have any confidence in yourself as a singer? DAVE: “No, it's bad enough if I'm in the studio. I get embarrassed and nervous if it's just me and the microphone with an audience it would just be a joke.”

These questions must be really boring, maybe I should ask your favourite color. DAVE: (laughs) “It's blue.”

Have you got a strange sense of humour? DAVE: “I like black comedy ... Friday the 13th and stuff. I sit back and laugh at them, always the same plot. They know there's an axe murderer wandering around and the first thing they do is split up and go searching around the woods.”

Have you seen ‘The Thing’? DAVE: “I didn't find that funny. That made me feel quite sick.”

What time do you get up? DAVE: “Sometimes I get really lazy and don't get up 'till two in the afternoon and then I have phases of getting up early. I suppose on average between ten and twelve.”

Do you believe in witches? DAVE: “Yes, I believe in witchcraft, I'm quite interested in that. I've read books. I'm not a practising magician or anything ... Music is a form of magic.”

Are there any causes you feel sympathetic towards like CND? DAVE: “I'm sympathetic to the idea of nuclear disarmament and everything but I wouldn't go out and campaign. If everyone in the country said we don't want nuclear weapons it wouldn't make a scrap of difference because the government doesn't represent the people and big business are behind them. Money is more important to them than people.”

Do you have any phobias? DAVE: “Sometimes walking down Oxford Street if there are lots of people I get paranoid ... I don't like flying ...”

Do you mind if I use the bathroom again? DAVE: “No.”

— * Linda Rowell is actually Mick Mercer, main editor of the magazine at the time as well

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pogoyarabelajane · 10 months

Text

INKPRINT VENDOPRO: IT'S A WRAP!

Like how autumn and relationships come to end in this approaching winter, this business venture journey comes to a close; to face another season ahead.

The last few weeks have not been easy. It was the weeks of revision, multiple product validation, and application of the things we learned from our Entrepreneurial Mind subject so far. In our final pitching, we produced the best that we can to give an output that would be qualified and substantial enough to call a ‘business venture’. Yet, the turn of events was never smooth at all. We faced multiple questions, errors, with nothing but embarrassment because we feel like we've never done it right, even after all the weeks and months of effort.

We were slammed with questions we've got no answers to. We came in confident and came out weary. However, we’ve learned from that experience how important it is to mindfully create the financial statements, to surely validate the feasibility of the business as well as the costs, and most importantly, to listen and apply suggestions and advice from mentors.

With those final moments, we've experienced a new type of feeling, but something we will never call ‘failing’. With all the sleepless nights, with all the struggles to make the ends meet, and to face our fears to speak in front of the panelists, makes the frightening final pitching a memorable and worthwhile experience.

It is due to ma'am Lovely being a responsible instructor that we learned how to cope with the aftermaths of our business venture. She, from the very start, has already reminded us how a start-up business requires strong will, determination, and multiple back-up plans until we’re left with nothing. She has taught us what it means to be humble, to persevere, and most importantly the essence of a business that does not only benefit the entrepreneurs but that it should have an impact and should benefit its community. She's a woman of empathy and compassion. We wouldn't have made it this far without her guidance.

Moreover, we believe that in this, we've put our utmost best. It was never as smooth as a marble countertop, and it was not always rainbows and sunshines. We don't always agree with each other’s opinions and ideas, but we have unitedly come to support each other hand in hand, from the crafting of the business title, to the making of PowerPoint presentations. Even in a short span of time, we learned a lot from each other. We learned how to be extra patient, to be understanding of the situations of others, to be open-minded to ideas, and to be cooperative. A goal would be hard to achieve when it's only a hand working. But with the group working together, we are able. It was never easy, but with people you know who got your back, everything feels light and bearable.

Hence, for almost four good months, this Entrepreneurial journey has come to an end. Thank you so much! To God be the Glory.

INSIGHTS:

— For almost four months of entrepreneurial journey. I am very grateful for having these teammates. Working alongside such a talented and dedicated group of individuals has been an incredible journey, and I am truly thankful for the privilege of being part of this team. The challenges we faced as a team were definitely worth fighting for. Also, I am very thankful for all the lessons and advice from our instructor Ma'am Lovely L. Tecson, all of your advice will remain in our heads, we couldn't make it this far without your guidance and mentorship. What I learned from this course is you need dedication, creative/innovative ideas, accept defeat and do better next time, always go for the opportunity that is given to you for our own growth development and success. Moreover, I appreciate the unique strengths that each team member brings to the table, contributing to our collective success.

As we move forward, we will still continue to support and inspire each other because I believe that together, we will reach even greater heights. xoxo ♡

[Documentation from the beginning of our entrepreneurial journey. August — December 2023.]

#entreprenuership #ink print #FM2A #VENDOPRO #END #innovation #4thblog

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kwockxpressions · 1 year

Text

Axel Nicholas Lorens

1. Name, Year, Major & Hometown

Axel Nicholas Lorens, 3rd Year Computer Science. My hometown is in Indonesia, Makassar

2. What are you most proud of?

I’m most proud of the books I’ve collected since I was a kid. It is comics from Southeast Asia(mostly Korean and Japan) that are hard to find now.

3. If you could choose a Sanrio character as a pet, which one would it be and why?

Nyago, only because it looks peaceful enough as a pet (only sleeping)

4. What is the biggest green flag in someone?

If someone does something they say they will (basically doing something, rather than just saying it.

5. What’s your biggest ick?

Can’t stand when something is not organized (in terms of placement)

6. If you were Kirby, who/what would you swallow and become?

I would become Elon Musk, just because he seems to be having fun with robots and Twitter.

7. What’s the most embarrassing moment in your life?

I had to breakdance and sing in front of my seniors (FYI, I don’t know how to breakdance and sing)

8. When was the last time you cried?

Last week, watching a Ghibli studio movie (I can't tell you which one)

9. What’s your most used emoji?

☠️ and 🤡

10. What do you value in friendship and tell me about your best friend.

What I value in a friendship is common traits, and the vibe together (especially if just both hanging out). The reason these both things are important I feel like we can have something to talk about. I don’t really say people who I just met friends until I hold a conversation with them. If it’s just saying hi and stuff, I would say we’re just acquaintances. I find it hard to make small talk so that is why I really like it if we have something in common because I find that much easier. I especially like people who have the same humor as me because sometimes we would roast each other and laugh together. Traits that I like to have in my friends are the ability to listen, and the sense of humor to roast people but is also fine with people roasting them (I find this to be important cause roasting is probably the quickest to get closer). Another trait I value in friendship is the ability to know when to argue and say sorry because I don’t like to argue with my friends, and I just want to hang out and have fun (not be stressed). This brings me to my best friends, I have 3 in my group (Ryan, Edgar, and Renhard) and I would say we connect well, especially during COVID. Even though we are separated right now (they’re all moving to study in different places), we still vibe really well. We realized we watched the same stuff and played the same games. They are also really open to the stuff I said and give appropriate feedback.The most memorable one is probably during my birthday, they were trying to send me a gift from Australia and Indonesia, but they got scammed (it was sad and hella funny, I laughed at them so hard)

#pimpshitnosimpshit

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subtletruamadumping · 2 years

Text

A Pitch Black Room, A Velvet Ribbon, A Secret Box

______________________________________________________________

This was my first year doing NaNoWriMo. It started as a writing prompt (the title is literally just the prompt) and it's a collection of short stories from many different peoples' perspectives linked by various objects. I won this year but never looked back at it. In fact, I am kind of embarrassed by it but I try to remind myself I was literally a child. Instead of being broken up into chapters, it's broken into characters.

Written in November 2016

______________________________________________________________

Part 2, Ethan

“No girls allowed!” Ethan shouted down the rickety ladder. His friend, Jackson, snickered next to him and peered down onto the floor below. Both of their little sisters were there, crossing their arms.

“That’s not fair!” Cecilia, Jackson’s little sister, whined “How come we don’t get a secret hide out?”

“Because you’re girls!” Jackson shouted back in response.

“That’s not a good reason!” Julia, Ethan’s sister, claimed.

“The rules are ‘no girls allowed’!” Ethan called down “Get over it, ya sissy!”

“Mom! Ethan called me a sissy!” Julia and Cecilia ran off into the house below and the boys were finally left to themselves.

“Ugh, girls.” Jackson said, rolling his eyes.

“Who needs ‘em?” Ethan said “All they do is complain and whine. I wish they’d just go play with their dolls or something and leave us alone.”

“Girls must be the worst thing on the planet.” Jackson agreed.

“Do you want to play chase?” Ethan asked, suddenly changing the subject like kids do.

“Sure.” Jackson replied “Do you have any flashlights? It’s pitch black up here.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few. I normally stand them up so they give off enough light without having to hold them.”

“Alright, what kind of cars do you have so we can play chase?”

“I’ve got a blue one, a red one, a few green ones, and some yellow ones. I also have some that are all different colors. But I get to play with the black one.”

“Oo, you have a black one?” Jackson asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. You can open all the doors and even the trunk.”

“That’s so cool!”

“My dad got it for me for my birthday.”

“You’re the luckiest person I know.” Jackson said “I wish I had a cool dad who made me a playhouse in the attic and got me awesome cars for my birthday.”

“Your dad’s pretty cool, too,” Ethan reminded him “He built you that awesome swingset last year.”

“Yeah, that is pretty cool.” Jackson said thoughtfully.

“Which one do you want to use?” Ethan asked, drawing his attention back to the important matter at hand.

“I’ll use this blue and red one.” Jackson said, picking it up out of the pile “It looks cool. Who’s going to be the bad guy?”

“I will, because I have the black car.”

“Don’t policemen normally have black cars?”

“No, they have black and white cars.” Ethan corrected “Besides, this one doesn't have a sirene.”

“Oh, alright. So, my guy is taking a million thousand dollars to the bank. He had all of it in the back seat.” Jackson rolled his car slowly across the floor of the attic.

“My guy is a robber and sees the money in your car.” Ethan said, making his car follow Jackson’s “He sneaks up and takes all of it!” Ethan’s car suddenly rushes past Jackson’s.

“Now my guy is going to chase you to get his money back.” Jackson narrated, following at a close speed.

“‘You’ll never catch me alive!’” Ethan said in his bad guy voice.

“‘Give me back my money!’” Jackson replied in his victim’s voice. The two chased each other around the attic (hence the name of the game), sometimes even making the cars fly. There were plenty of car crashes and innocent people being harassed by Ethan’s black car. They were still playing and zooming about, when Ethan’s dad’s head poked out of the hole in the floor.

“What are you guys up to?” He asked.

“We’re playing chase.” Ethan answered as his dad climbed into the attic.

“Yeah, Ethan’s the bad guy.” Jackson chimed in “Right now, he’s trying to get away because--”

“Sounds exciting,” Ethan’s dad interrupted “but we need to talk about how you two have been treating your sisters’.”

“Aww,” Both the boys whined.

“I know it’s not your favorite topic.” Ethan’s dad said “However, you shouldn’t be so mean to them. They are your sisters.”

“But they’re girls!” Ethan cried in disgust.

“So is about half the world's population.” Ethan’s dad said flatly “Just because someone's a girl doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, it does. It means they’re a sissy.”

“No, it doesn’t. Besides, you might actually end up liking them, some day.”

“EWW!” The boys yelled.

“I know, but it’s true.” Ethan’s dad laughed “That’s just how it’s going to be when you get older.”

“Not me.” Jackson said.

“Not me, either.” Ethan quickly added.

“You both will.” Ethan’s dad said “Soon, you’ll think girls are the best things on the planet.”

“Cars are the best things on the planet.” Ethan said firmly “And nothing’s going to change that.”

~*~

“We could play with some cars, I guess,” Ethan said unenthusiastically.

“Cars are for little kids.” Jackson said, crossing his arms.

“Well, what do you want to do, then?” Ethan asked, tossing the toy cars to the side.

“I don’t know,” Jackson said with a shrug “but we had better get more batteries up here. Most of your flashlights are out.”

“Not afraid of the dark, are you?” Ethan teased.

“No,” Jackson replied sharply “I would just like to be able to see more than a few inches in front of me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll get some for the next time we come up.”

“This secret hide out just isn’t the same anymore, is it?” Jackson asked, looking around the room.

“What do you mean?” Ethan asked with a frown.

“Well, for one, it’s gotten smaller.”

“You mean, we’ve gotten bigger.”

“And it’s not really much of a secret, anymore.”

“I don’t think it really was to begin with.”

“And it’s just not as fun.” Jackson concluded.

“Sure it is,” Ethan said “we just have to figure out what we’re going to do in it, now.”

“Hey, do you think your mom would let me sleep over tonight?” Jackson asked suddenly.

“We could ask.” Ethan said with a smile, seeing where this was leading. The boys hurried down the ladder and made sure to close up the entrance to reveal the sign they had taped to the door a few years ago:

No Girls Allowed

“Mom.can Jackson spend the night?” Ethan asked, breathless, as he ran into the kitchen.

“Did you talk to his mom?” She asked in reply.

“No. not yet.”

“Hang on a minute and I’ll giver her a call.” The boys waited anxiously for her to finish mixing whatever she was mixing and walk over to the phone. The time between when Ethan's mom finished dialing and Jackson’s mom picked up was torturously to the boys. It seemed like an eternity of “yes”s and “mm-hmm”s after the initial question was asked. Eventually, Ethan’s mom hung up the phone and turned to the boys.

“She’ll be coming over in a little bit to drop off a bag for Jackson.” She announced. The boys cheered in excitement, thinking about what adventures they would have. Finally, Ethan decided to ask his mom the most important question.

“Can we sleep in the attic?” He asked, tugging at his mom’s arm. She hesitated. The boy’s hearts stopped.

“You’re going to have to ask your dad about that.” She finally said, setting the oven “I’m not really sure if it’ll be okay for you guys to stay up there the entire night.”

“When will Dad be home?”

“Probably about the same time as usual.”

“What time is that?”

“Around four.”

“What time it is, now?”

“Look at the clock.” She said in exasperation.

“We have an hour.” He quickly told Jackson “Come on, let’s go get the attic ready.”

“Be careful up there!” His mom shouted after them as they ran out of the room.

~*~

Ethan’s dad had said yes, so the boys had spread sleeping bags across the floor. They had pushed all the toys to one side of the room to make more space for them to sleep. Although his mom expressed concerns about them sleeping in the attic, Ethan’s dad gave some technical explanation and said it would be alright. Jackson’s mom had come by and dropped off his bag. They happily changed into pajamas, then retreated back up the ladder. Julia wasn’t very happy about them excluding her, but Ethan’s mom let her bake cookies and she was happy again.

It was beginning to get late and they had exhausted all of their usual topics of conversation. They both fell quiet, thinking about what had been discussed. They didn’t normally have so much time around each other and were trying to come up with more things to talk about. Ethan wondered if everything really changed as you grew up, or just a few things. He wondered if he and Jackson would stay friends. He wondered if he’d outgrow other things like he had outgrown his toy cars. Most of all, he wondered about what his dad had said years ago. He thought about whether he would ever let a girl into his secret hide out. He wondered if girls really weren’t as bad a they seemed.

“Hey, Ethan,” Jackson called, pulling him back down to earth.

“What’s up?” Ethan replied.

“I’ve been thinking about our class this year.” He said.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got a lot of new kids in our class, this year.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you remember one of the new girls? He name is Suzie. She’s got brown, curly hair and brown eyes. She’s kinda tall.”

“Yeah, I remember her.” Ethan said hesitantly.

“Well, I was just thinking...”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I mean, she’s kinda pretty.” Jackson said, then added “It’s not like I like her or anything.”

“Right.”

“She’s just got nice hair and eyes.”

“Right.”

“Now, don’t think I’m going all ‘girl-crazy’ on you.” He warned.

“I’m not.” Ethan said “I think you’re right.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said thoughtfully “She does have nice eyes. So does Molly, actually.”

“But she has blue eyes.”

“So?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t think blue eyes are as pretty as brown eyes.”

“Good for you.”

“Boys!” Ethan’s mom called up the ladder. They both clamored over to the hole in the ground and looked down.

“Julia made you a plate of cookies.” She said, holding them out. The boys looked at each other, then back down.

“You can come up here, Mom.” Ethan called down.

“But I thought there were no girls allowed.” She replied.

“You can come up.” He repeated.

“Well, thank you very much.” She laughed, then mounted the ladder. They drew away from the hole and soon her head came up. She smiled at them, put the plate of cookies down, then went back down.

“Don’t stay up too late.” She called up, then left. The boys happily munched on their cookies, getting crumbs everywhere. Soon, the plate was completely empty.

“Your sister makes really good cookies.” Jackson said as they looked forlornly at the empty plate.

“Yeah, she does.” Ethan agreed.

Maybe girls aren’t so bad, afterall. He thought to himself.

0 notes

purplesurveys · 2 years

Text

1584

Did you ever pretend you were someone else as a favor for a friend? No, I’m the world’s most terrible liar and I’d blow my cover within minutes.

Do you think men prefer curvy women or skinny women? Idk, do all men on the planet have a collective preference on something like this?

Do you own a water gun? I mean if we’re talking about the toy kind of water guns, I haven’t had those in years.

What item most embarrasses you to purchase? Tbh my usual mindset is that what I buy is none of anyone’s business lol, so I don’t recall a time I’ve hesitated to buy something because I was embarrassed.

Do you know any actual dances or do you just move to the music? I have a few dance routines memorized but I can’t actually dance, so I’m largely limited to just bouncing my body to the beat here and there and doing tiny movements with my hands.

Do you eat pork and beans? No, for a number of factors - I hate most beans; I was fed pork and beans a lot as a kid; and I’ve always found the taste of pork and beans to be a bit...meh? Like it’s not bland, but the taste is just similar to a lot of stews so it’s largely forgettable for me.

What is the last thing you refered to as legit? I was booking a weekend accommodation for my family and I was just telling my dad that this place I saw is legit because of the reviews and how looked-after their website is.

Or do you think that term is lame? lol I never thought it was, nor cared about this.

Do you give cards to people for holidays or events? The tradition of giving cards is not really a big tradition here. Filipinos prefer to give like, actual(?? idk the right term lol) items - doesn’t matter how simple it is, whether it’s a handkerchief or keychain or mug; but we would generally look around to see what kind of trinkets we can give others.

Do you have anything hanging from the ceiling of your room? Just my room’s main light, though I barely use it because it’s white and I hate white light and because I find it too bright.

The rear view mirror of your car? No; too distracting. I’m fine with decorative stickers on the rear view mirror, but I’d never put hanging stuff on it.

which do you prefer, dr or dentist? Dentist. Doctors can give you worse news, I think.

Do you know which side your appendix is on? Yep.

Do you have the fixins in your fridge to make a sandwich? What kind? We probably do but I’m not knowledgeable enough to know what ingredients would work together to make a good sandwich.

Are any walls of your room blank? There is one that is blank, but I have the TV stand on that side anyway so it doesn’t look entirely lifeless.

When was the last time you ate fruit? Last Sunday when we had mango panna cotta. I did give the mango glaze a try to be generous, but to nobody’s shock I hated it so I ended up scraping it all off and just finishing the gelatin part.

What color are your favorite shoes? They’re white with blue and red stripes.

If someone was willing to tell your crush you liked them would you let them? No crushes.

Do you know the zodiac signs of your friends? Angela is a Virgo...I think? and while I know all my friends’ birthdays, I wouldn’t be able to tell you their signs.

Favorite dog ever, real life and cartoon. Fave IRL dogs are my three kids - Kimi, Cooper, and Agi. As for cartoon dogs, I love Buster from Toy Story and Pluto the most. Do you own anything with fur on it? What? Nope.

Do you choose surveys based on their titles? I won’t lie, it’s for sure a factor. I gravitate towards titles that have ~aesthetic formatting (like if they were written in lowercase) or are song lyrics; but at the end of the day I still look at all my options and narrow it down from there.

what would be worse for you, unplanned pregnancy or cancer? Cancer. Honestly, a pregnancy wouldn’t even be close to being the worst thing to happen to me at this point.

What was the last thing you made from scratch? I have no idea if I’ve done that recently. I just buy everything lol

Do you drink any hot beverages? What? Not a fan of hot drinks. If I had to consume anything hot it would just be soup.

Do you put Q-tips in your ear or just round the outside? Push it right in.

Have you ever popped another person's zit? I haven’t.

When was the last time you listened to a radio, NOT online? A little over a month ago. I was picking up my dad from the airport and it happened to be the timeslot of my favorite radio show, so I ditched the Bluetooth so I could listen to those DJs.

Do you have any odious chores hanging over your head? Not really, no.

What is the last thing you confessed to someone? I haven’t had any big ones recently, but last night I did share with my co-workers that I had been really, really close to closing in on resigning a month ago, and that I planned to end up in this or that job.

Have you ever told a friend to dump their SO? Did they? No, I don’t really like being authoritative on things like that. I’d give advice or whatever, but I’m not the type to directly say dump them.

Name two things you put whipped cream on? Tbh not really a fan of whipped cream. I’d let it stay on my frappes but that’s about it.

Who is the last person who saw you with bare feet? My family.

What do you think is the coolest piercing on someone else? I don’t remember her face, her name, or where I encountered her, but I once worked with a girl who had a lip piercing that really suited her. It was a lip ring and idk it just looked pretty on her. Colored tattoos or plain? Depends on the style, I’d say.

Do you ever eat peanut butter straight from the jar? Maybe once or twice. I did this more often with Nutella and cookie butter.

Do you know how to ride a bike? Do you own one? I don’t know how to ride one.

What was the last pill you took for? Headache. How many devices do you own that hook up to internet? Three - laptop, phone, and the casting thingy for my TV that lets me access YouTube and all the other streaming apps.

Any best friends you only know online? No, that ship sailed years ago. All my online friends practically disappeared off the face of the earth one by one, but I hope they’re all doing okay and are thriving and happy wherever they ended up in their lives.

Do you ever talk to your next door neighbor? Nah, not really.

Do most of your friends live in houses, apartments or mobiles? Houses.

Did anything shock you today? Learning that Wild Flower was one of the tracks Namjoon accidentally wiped out from his laptop. I can still remember the hundreds of fans who tried to help him recover his files (my friends and I did too) hahaha but in any case it’s really poetic how he re-recorded the song and ultimately made it his title track.

What is the thing you last stubbed your toe on? The side of my bed.

Favorite faux curse word. I say “freaking” a lot.

Who do you tease most often and what about? I’d say Angela; I tease her about marriage and kids quite frequently.

slip on or lace up shoes? Lace-up.

Thing you stress over most about the holidays. Completing my gift list and looking for gifts that are unique for each person, all while making sure I don’t suck my bank account dry.

Food you take a second helping of on Thanksgiving? I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, but in general I wouldn’t hesitate to get a second, third, fourth round of lumpia.

Would you rather spend Thanksgiving with friends or family? Again, I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. But for Christmas, I’ve always celebrated with family – my friends do too, so it’s not like we could plan get-togethers on the day of.

Most disgusting bug. Cockroaches.

Nastiest thing in your fridge. Subjectively, pineapple juice.

Song you hate but keep singing anyway. Don’t think there’s such a song.

Cookies or brownies. Cookies.

Do you own any movie soundtracks? Which? I remember having the Twilight soundtrack many years ago lol, but I don’t think it’s here anymore. Otherwise I’ve never bought any movie soundtracks – especially these days, since I can easily stream those on Spotify.

How many pillows do you sleep with? Two, and then I’ve got a plushie too.

Favorite outdoors smell. A freshly-cooked boodle fight setup right next to the beach.

are you wearing a hoodie right now? I am not.

Do you ever sleep in your day clothes? Yes; the only time I don’t is when I wear the one pair of pajamas I have. Otherwise, my day clothes work just as well at night.

Do you prefer your clothes loose or close fitting? I used to lean towards tighter clothes, but these days I don’t have much of a preference. I just wear whatever I feel like putting on for the day.

Are your fave pants jeans? Yep. Do you own any under things bought to impress the opposite sex? Not really to impress anyone, but just because I feel good in them.

Favorite thing you've ever painted? I’ve never completed a painted work.

Do you eat applesauce? No. I don’t even know what that is.

Are there any songs that remind you of your mother? Sure.

If you had a sister, would you prefer her older or younger? Why? I have a younger sister and I’ve never had any qualms with it.

What is something you wanted to say today, but didn’t? Don’t tell me what to do with my money.

Where are your keys right now? Somewhere downstairs.

Is there any product you always buy at the dollar store? I can’t relate to this question again.

Can you recite any prayers by heart? Unfortunately I still can.

When it's your birthday, do you have the correct number of candles? I can’t remember the last time I had a candle on my cake. Birthday cake alone, or cake and ice cream? Just cake is fine but even that I can do away with, tbh. Not a big fan of sweets.

0 notes

readingbookelf · 2 years

Text

Surprise Visit - Charlie Weasley

Summary: You visit Charlie at work and end up in a cage with three tiny dragons. The eventful night leads to a surprising confession.

Requested: yes

Pairing: witch!reader x Charlie Weasley

My Writing | Join my taglist

You can’t remember how this happened, but you suddenly found yourself in a cage with three baby dragons. Cute one might think. Yes, unless you’re deeply terrified of the creatures. Dragons, big or small, friendly or deadly; they’re all the same to you. It’s why people thought you and Charlie were an odd pair. While at Hogwarts he did everything he could to learn about the mortifying creatures while you stayed as far away from them as you could. It’s why it took you so long to visit your friend.

You’d usually meet somewhere in between your and Charlie’s workplace, but you wanted to surprise him. It’s painfully obvious that you didn’t think this through. One minute you’re talking to his co-workers and the next you’re in this cage. You’d simply asked them where Charlie was and somehow you landed with three dragons.

Here you are in the corner of a cage while three baby dragons are lurking at you. Their eyes connect with yours while they walk towards you, making you panic even worse. You’re paralysed from fear.

“What are you doing in there,” a voice calls out before you completely lose it.

“Charlie, is that you? Please tell me it’s you,” you answer.

And just like that he appears in front of you, his back towards you and his focus on the dragons. He pets the creatures slowly and they have the audacity to close their eyes in content like they weren’t going to eat you just minutes ago. As soon as the dragons are satisfied Charlie takes your hand and aparates you both out of the cage.

He immediately turns to you. “Was that some ‘I’ll face my fears’-thing,” he asks with furrowed brows.

“God, no. I have respect for your interest in them, but I don’t think I’ll ever face that fear,” you answer, suppressing a shudder.

“Then why were you inside the cage?”

“Honestly, Charlie, I have no idea what happened. I was talking to your colleagues and when I asked them where you were I landed in here,” you say, the disbelief still evident in your voice.

“I can’t believe they’d do something so stupid,” Charlie murmurs to himself.

He angrily walks towards the place where you met his co-workers.

“Normally when someone asks for one of us we transport them to where that person is. However, we’re supposed to ask more information instead of just…just poofing them away,” Charlie says frustrated.

“It’s alright, Charlie. You were there fast enough. They or you didn’t know I was coming. I guess I should’ve let you know.”

“Y/n, that is not the problem. They should’ve used their brains.”

Before you can say anything, you reach the group of Charlie’s co-workers.

“Which one of you idiots put her in a cage with three dragons,” he angrily asks them. There’s a hint of rage in his voice, something that surprises both you and his companions. Charlie’s usually very calm and collected.

You don’t know if it’s idiocy or bravery, but someone actually speaks up, trying to make it right that he broke their protocol.

“Look man,” Ack, not a good start of your sentence buddy. “She was looking for you and when someone is looking for one of us we send them your way. If you happen to be in a cage so be it.”

It’s clear he just shot every chance at redemption. His co-workers shake their heads and Charlie visibly shakes from anger.

“So be it,” the anger in Charlie’s voice is unmistakable, “We don’t send people on their merry way until we at least know what they’re here for. Only then we can evaluate if it’ll be okay to just aparate them. She was in a cage, all by herself, with no experience of how to handle a dragon because she’s terrified of them. So good job, you almost got her killed.”

Charlie ends the discussion with that and walks towards the exit. Maybe you should’ve been embarrassed or annoyed that he just outed your biggest fear, but the way he stood up for you… It awakened something inside of you. Something you thought was long gone.

Yes, during your time at Hogwarts you lived the cliché of falling in love with your best friend. You never acted on it because you knew Charlie didn’t feel the same. You would each go different directions once you graduated anyway. So you pushed all of your feelings down. But now, hearing Charlie stand up for you, it made those feelings resurface.

-----

After eating dinner at Charlie’s place, you sit in his garden by the fire pit.

“I still can’t believe you were in a cage with three dragons,” he chuckles.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you say while trying to supress a shudder, but failing miserably.

Mistaking your shudder for being cold, Charlie puts a blanket around the both of you and pulls you close. You relax into his hold and let out a happy sigh.

“Did you ever think we’d lose touch once we’d leave Hogwarts,” you whisper, barely audible out of fear for his answer.

“No,” Charlie answers without a doubt in his voice, “Is that what you thought would happen?”

“Yes, maybe,” you confess.

Charlie sucks in a breath and you can tell he didn’t expect that.

You continue: “It’s not because I secretly hated you or something. It’s… It’s… We’re very different. I still don’t know how we connected. The girl terrified of most magical animals and the boy so obsessed with them. You lit up every time you talked about them, you still do. I knew that once we graduated you’d find a job working with magical creatures, preferably dragons and I would end up at the ministry. I was so scared of losing you, Charlie. I thought there’d be no room for me anymore, especially if you got to work with dragons.”

The silence stretches on. When you look at Charlie, you can see he’s trying to find the right words.

“I always knew there would be a place for you wherever I’d go. I know we have different interests, but that doesn’t mean we’re not compatible or can no longer be friends. It’s our differences that make us fit so perfectly. I know we don’t see each other that often, but we send lots of letters and meet up whenever we can,” he hesitates then, not sure if he should continue. “I don’t know if what I’m going to say next is going to ruin everything or make everything better. But y/n I like you, like a lot so I always knew I had to do everything I could to make sure you’d stay in my life. And I know that if my feelings were reciprocated we would both try to see each other more.”

His eyes search yours after his confession. You can’t believe he just confessed having feelings for you, the same feelings you’ve been carrying around ever since Hogwarts.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, the feelings are mutual.” You give him a love sick smile which he returns.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces while already leaning closer. You nod and meet him halfway. Charlie’s lips are against yours. You’re kissing Charlie.

Tags: @drayshadow @tasteofyourlight @ai-hiime @reesespieces1 @alexxavicry @silverose365

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #hogwarts #charlie weasley #charlie weasley imagine #charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you

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p33paw · 3 years

Text

broken contract

zhongli x f!reader

summary | breaking a promise to zhongli, and paying the price with spread legs (pwp, thigh riding, cockwarming, overstimulation, praise kink, sir kink, degrading kink)

warnings | nsfw

word count | ~10k

links | ao3

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

But— Beidou is only in town for the day, a short stop sandwiched between two several month long expeditions spent sailing the sea, too far away for contact. We settled to meet at the Third-Round Knockout. Her, me, a table of food, and all morning to talk before she visits the other people she cares about. We each got a single drink to toast with, then one became two, two became three, and... well...

I might be drunk in the middle of the day.

"Zhongli is going to kill me—" I groan, planting my head into my arms, leaning into the table.

I was supposed to meet with him today as well, as soon as Beidou's left. I can feel the heat on my flushed face where it connects with my skin. I'm drunk. He hates when I drink, enough that he told me to never drink before I see him.

Beidou grunts, and I hear the creak of her chair as she leans back in it.

"What's with you and that old man?" She asks, followed by the thud of her empty glass hitting the table. She calls for another round, and I groan again, tilting my head up to look at her.

"Wha'd'you mean?" I ask, pouting my lower lip out.

Beidou squints at me, then lifts her hands to gesture.

"Are you—" She holds her tongue with her teeth, a look of concentration knitting her brow. She forms her index finger and thumb on one hand into a circle, then pushes her other pointer finger out, jamming it into the circle she created. "—y'know."

As she continues to thrust her finger into the space created by her hand, the waiter approaches, dropping two new drinks in front of us. Beidou doesn't notice, but she's shot a dirty look.

I squint at her, knowing exactly what she's asking, but refusing to answer truthfully.

"No?" I sit all the way up, batting my eyelashes to antagonize her. "What are you talking about?" As I finish speaking, I lift my new drink, sipping it to keep my buzz if this is the conversation we're having.

Beidou blinks back, a delirious and gullible look in her eyes.

"Are you gonna go have sex with him?" She asks, point blank.

I choke on my drink, not expecting to hear the question. I have to take a moment to steady myself, eyes flicking up to Beidou as she crosses her arms and stares me down.

"I— I—" I blink, stumbling over my words, trying to collect my thoughts. I settle for a jab back, looking at Beidou with as much courage as I can muster. "Are you gonna go have sex with Ningguang?" I ask.

Beidou's brows tick in, a no less severe expression on her face. "Of course." She says, just as brash. "Now answer my question."

I falter, pursing my lips. Damn, I thought that would buy me more time.

"I'm—" I start, trying to look up and meet her eyes. I end up shying away from her severe stare, hiding in my drink. "Yes." I admit, no way around it. "We are... involved."

"Involved?" Asks Beidou, leaning in, "Like more than just having sex?"

I suck my lower lip in, hesitant to talk about it. This is something that happened recently, more than a month after Beidou last left Liyue Harbor. My hands instinctively come together, my fingers resting on a bracelet that was a gift from Zhongli. He called it the contract of what we have between us, the guarantee of the promises we've made each other, and the reminder than I belong to him. There's no official title, but...

"A lot more than just sex." I say.

Beidou 'oohs', leaning in even closer.

Before she can get another word out, the door to the tavern swings open with a slam. Beidou and I both crane our necks to look. Standing in the entryway, tall, elegant and beautiful, is lady Ningguang. Her eyes are locked to Beidou though, and intimidating enough that I find myself faltering.

She walks in, tailed by two guards.

"You're in trouble now—" I whisper back, trying to make myself look at small as possible.

Beidou shoots me a glare of her own, before pulling her face into a wide smile, staring at Ningguang as she approaches.

"Hey—y my beautiful flower, has anyone told you how lovely and gentle and beautiful and intelligent and—" Beidou starts, interrupted by Ningguang.

"I've been waiting for hours." Ningguang says, voice severe, barely flicking her eyes over to me. She gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment and I blink back in surprise.

Beidou squints at her. "I— told you I'd finish lunch at twelve." She says as looks over to me. "My friends are just as important to me—"

Ningguang immediately reaches to her side, pulling a pocket watch from a chain where it's fastened. She flips it open, pushing it forward, directly toward Beidou. Beidou leans in, lifting her brows as she reads the time, surprise clear in her expression.

"Now what does that say?" Ningguang asks, staring Beidou down.

Beidou swallows, eyes flicking up to stare at the other woman. "Two-oh-six." She says, lifting her drink, finishing it in a single swig, dropping the empty glass to the table, then slowly starting to stand.

Shit. I promised Zhongli I'd be done by noon, myself.

Beidou turns to me once standing, reaching a hand over to clasp my shoulder. "I'm glad to have seen you," She starts, "If my next adventure finds me dead—" She nervously glances toward Ningguang, "Know that you were my greatest friend." At that, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out and slamming down a satchel of mora that is certainly— more than enough to pay our tab. She turns, walking away from the table.

Ningguang smiles, small, watching Beidou approach her, before turning her gaze to me. "I'm sorry for interrupting—" She says, lifting her hands together, looking apologetic. "I'm sure you understand?"

I nod, giving her a reassuring smile of my own. "I had plenty of time with her." I say back, waving her off.

I lift to my feet to stand and leave as well, met with a head rush that makes me waver. I have to shoot my hands out to the table to steady myself, coming into the realization that I drank much more than I should have.

A hand darts forward, landing on my arm, holding me steady.

"Are you alright?" I hear Ningguang ask, much closer than before.

I nod, slowly blinking, trying to focus my eyes, batting her away.

"I'm fine— just a bit—" As I try to step away, I stumble, barely catching myself on another table. "—drunk." I sigh out, then look up to Beidou to glare. "I hate you." I bite out. I always try to drink as much as her, and, inevitably, end up far drunker.

Beidou gives me a toothy grin, shrugging. "Learn to hold your liquor." She says.

Still next to me, Ningguang turns to glare at Beidou, until the smile slips from her face. She looks to the side, sheepish.

"You're in no condition to get home alone." Ningguang says, lifting her hand and snapping her fingers together.

One of the two guards steps forward, at attention, walking up next to us.

"Assure that she arrives home safely." She says, voice stern, before turning back to meet my eyes again. "If you tell him where you live he'll get you home. Let me know if there are any problems." She says, then steps away before I can protest, back to Beidou's side.

Together, the two turn, walking for the exit. Beidou looks back, giving me another wave as she's ushered away, until the door swings shut behind them, and I'm alone with the guard.

"Where do you live, ma'am?" He asks.

I look up at him, feeling sheepish. I'm drunk, that doesn't mean a need a guard to walk me home.

"You can— leave me." I start. "I'm more than capable of getting home, I'm not sure why Lady Ningguang even—" I take the first step forward, lose my footing, and fall over face first, collapsing to the ground.

I groan, collecting myself and sitting up, blowing a stressed breath. Maybe it's good Beidou's only home a few days a year, she'd drink me into an early death otherwise.

The guard's hands land on me this time, helping me to stand. I let him, but once I'm up, the hands don't come off. Instead, I'm lifted up into his arms, until he's carrying me.

"Just tell me where to go." The guard starts, looking embarrassed for me. "Ma'am."

I huff a sigh with half a mind to struggle to get out of his hold— but— realize it isn't worth it. I would probably just fall on my ass if I attempted to walk anywhere, this is likely for the best.

Now, I have to consider my options. Fake sick and abandon my plans with Zhongli because I'm in no state to meet him, or—

Zhongli's address spills from my mouth, something selfish and needy rearing in my chest. I want to see him, I don't care how much trouble I'll be in once he sees my current state.

The guard nods, walking forward with me in his arms. It's foreign to exit a bar belligerently drunk and see it's still the middle of the day. The outside is busy with working people despite the clouds in the sky and the threat of rain looming above them.

I hide my face in my own shoulder, embarrassed as the guard strides forward, down the streets, deeper into the city, carrying me to where Zhongli lives. The closer we approach, the more nervous I get, mind racing at how he might react to the mistake I've made.

I really shouldn't be drunk.

My stomach twists as I spot Zhongli's home, and consider my current position. I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is— I don't need him to see me in another man's arms. I lift my hand, tapping the shoulder of the guard, signaling to be let down. The guard listens, lowering me to my feet. I have to take a second to balance myself, but finally find my bearings, walking forward to close what feels like an immeasurable distance between me and Zhongli.

I approach his threshold, but before I can knock, the door opens. Zhongli stands in the entryway, his eyes flicking between me and the guard at my back, his expression set.

"Didn't we agree you'd arrive by noon?" He asks, finally staring at just me.

I nod, then stumble toward him. He receives me in his arms, holding me tight as I bury myself in his chest. His arms feel massive as they wrap me, cradling me like I'm something fragile. I drag in an inhale, breathing in the scent of clear spring and mountain air that seems ever present on him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, softer.

I tilt my head back to look at him, and see his face is knit with concern. I nod, staring up at him through my lashes.

"I'm— f-fine." I slur out, then watch as Zhongli's brow ticks in.

There's a drop in my stomach as it happens, knowing he's become aware of what's made me late. He looks away from me, up to the guard.

"Thank you." He says, voice firm, before guiding me into his house.

"I'm sorry—" I try to start, keeping pressed to his side, my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.

Zhongli closes the door, soft, careful, before turning to look at me again.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" He asks, disappointment clear in his voice.

I nod, moving my hands against his abdomen. I keep touching, grabbing, pawing at him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, lifting my hand to his chest. "Can I make it up to you? I—"

Zhongli catches me at the wrist, holding my hands still. He sighs, then walks away without another word. I stay in place, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist, restlessness and guilt twisting my stomach, as I wait, I hear water start to run.

He reappears, walking straight for me. He lands his hands on me in silence, lifting me into his arms. I curl my fingers into his shoulder, holding tight as he carries me to the bathroom. I look around, noting that the bath is running, filling with water.

I'm carefully lowered to my feet, then Zhongli steps back, creating distance, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks right at me.

"Do you need help undressing?" He asks.

I shake my head no, stumbling over my own feet as I grab the hem of my dress, lifting it up and off. It falls to the floor with a thump. Standing in my undergarments, I can feel Zhongli's eyes on me, burning me in the way they flick across my body, studying me. I embarrass, shoving my panties down and off as quickly as I can, shedding my bra even faster, then standing nude with my arms wrapped around my core.

"It's ready for you." Zhongli says next, the sound of water flowing cut short.

I look up to meet his eyes, finding them locked to my body, searching the expanse of it. I carefully step forward, until I'm directly in front of him.

"I'm sorry—" I repeat, feeling small, watching as his steady gaze locks back to my face.

"It's okay." He says. "We can talk about it later."

I nod, tight, still in my own head. I almost want him to be mad, to express the upset I see clear on his face so that the guilt in my stomach settles. Instead, his words and actions are measured with restraint.

I look away from him toward the bath. It's drawn high, shimmering with soap. I lift my leg, stepping in, until I'm standing in the water. Then, I lower myself in, sinking into the warm feeling that envelops my body.

I glance back over to Zhongli, watching as he walks to the door, sheds his jacket, and hangs it. From there, he turns, walking back toward the bath, removing his gloves, unpinning his cufflinks, slipping them both into his pocket. He carefully rolls his sleeves up his forearms, one at a time.

My heart jumps to my throat as he reveals his arms, thick with muscle and defined veins like his hands, a light ghosting of hair that covers the entire limb. He kneels next to the tub, lifting a bottle of soap. He pours the soap into his hands, then pushes those hands forward, landing them on my body.

"I'm sorry." I repeat, voice as small as I can make it, searching the hard line of his unwavering expression.

His eyes flick up to meet mine, piercing in the way they look at me. He slides his soaped hand against my skin, over my chest, up to my neck. He rests there, caressing with his thumb, keeping his eyes on me.

"You reek of alcohol." He says, voice low and gentle. "Didn't you promise to never drink before seeing me?"

I duck my head, heart jumping to my throat. I nod, tight. "Yes." I breathe out, blinking down to watch my hands curl around each other underneath the water. "I'm sorry." I repeat.

Zhongli says no more, but continues to move his hands. He drags them along me with purpose, washing every square inch of my body in silence, before he's up, grabbing a toothbrush from his counter. He kneels back down, holding the brush, staring at me.

"Can you open your mouth for me?" He coaxes.

I swallow around my tongue, but do, just parting my lips.

Zhongli's free hand comes up, cupping my face. His thumb forces between my lips, pressing to my bottom row of teeth. He opens my mouth, pulling his thumb back, only to dig his fingers into my cheeks, holding my face in place. He moves forward with the toothbrush, pushing it into my mouth, watching it go in, all while I search his face.

He starts to move, brushing the caps of my teeth, moving the brush in and out of my mouth, dragging it against my lips. I find my eyes fluttering shut, embarrassment overwhelming me.

All of this is because I couldn't control myself, and now, I have to be cared for. He finishes brushing my teeth, allows me to rinse, then pulls the plug from the bath. He stands up, finds a towel, dries his hands on it, and brings it to me.

"Will you be okay on your own for a moment?" He asks, waiting until I nod in confirmation to stand up and walk away.

Once he's gone, I lift my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I wait in the bath while the water drains, consumed with upset. I just want him to kiss me the way he always does, hold me tight, and make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. Instead, I'm helpless as he picks up the pieces of me.

There's a small tremble in my core as I stand up. It's a sinking feeling that acknowledges my fault, a repeated reminder that I'm the one who fucked up and crossed the boundaries we set.

I reach for the towel that Zhongli used, dry off with it, then walk out of the bathroom. I go straight for his bedroom, finding pajamas already laid out for me on the bed. It's a top and bottom set, silken, too large, I lift the buttoned top, slipping it over my head without unbuttoning anything. The hem falls past the middle of my thigh, wearing more like a dress than anything else. I don't bother with the pants.

I poke my fingers from the oversized sleeves, curling them into the fabric at the collar of the shirt, lifting it to my face. I breathe in, finding it rich with the scent that lingers on Zhongli. I nearly buckle, eyes fluttering shut as I breathe it in, grounding myself in it.

When I open my eyes again, reality comes crashing back.

I walk out of the bedroom, eyes peeled for Zhongli. I find him in his kitchen, dropping a mixture of leaves into a pot of still water that sits on a low flame. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbow, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he uses them.

I make a noise, watching him, wishing his hands were on me. He glances back.

"You should lay down until the tea is done." He says, quiet.

Though I know it's for the best, I refuse to listen. I shake my head no, walking toward him with uncertainty.

"I don't—" I start, taking a ragged breath. "Are you angry? I don't want you to be upset with me— please, I—" I falter as Zhongli pauses his movement. "Please." I repeat, begging, breathier than last time.

Pin prick tears collect at the corners of my eyes, desperation for reassurance fueling my courage.

Finally, Zhongli turns and approaches me, his expression strained. He lands one hand on my waist, sliding it up my side. His other cups my chin, gentler than I expect, running his thumb along my bottom lip to my cheek.

"Go lay down." He repeats, his face relaxing into something kinder, more familiar. "You'll feel better if you lay down."

I whine, wrapping my arms around him tighter, hesitant to let go now that I've got some of the attention I desperately wanted.

"Do you hate me now?" I ask, voice small.

Zhongli's brows lift, his hand traveling higher to thumb the tear from my eye. He moves in closer, holding eye contact with me.

"Of course not." He says, quiet, holding my face steady to lean in and press a chaste kiss to my lips. "I am upset." He says, his breath warm against my lips, tightening his hand on my waist to pull me closer. "But we can wait to address it when you're sober." He presses another kiss.

Though the words are severe, it's a relief. I press into his lips with all of my might, digging my fingers into his shoulders, steadying myself. He can still love me the same, despite my mistakes.

Zhongli pulls back from the kiss with a soft noise, quickly turning to attend to the pot. I finally relax, moving with him, keeping myself pressed against his broad back, my arms looping his waist.

"You're too kind to me." I mumble, muffled by his shirt.

Maybe it's the drive of the alcohol, or the way his hands felt when he ran them along my body as he washed me, or maybe even just his kindness, but I find myself craving intimacy. I carefully drag my hands down his abdomen, grazing my fingers against the fabric of his shirt, until I reach his belt. There, I move carefully, working my fingers to lift the clasp, my other hand dragging down across his lap as I hold my breath.

Zhongli goes still beneath my palms. I move slower, glacially, pressing against his belt. I don't make it far before his hand covers my own, stilling my movement.

"No." He says, voice low and soft. "Not while you're drunk."

I whine, pressing against his back. "But I want to—" I pout.

Zhongli turns to face me, an unfamiliar stern look on his face. "No." He repeats, just as he lands his hands on me and lifts me into his arms.

I'm helplessly carried to his bedroom, then, unceremoniously dumped onto his bed.

"Rest until the tea is done." Zhongli says, an order, before leaning in and pressing a parting kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back when it's ready." He says, then pulls back.

I puff my cheeks out, pouting, but refrain from protest. Zhongli turns, walking back out of the room, leaving me alone. I decide to settle, admitting that he's right, I should lay down. I wrap myself in a comforter, burying my face in his pillows, and let my eyes shut. I find myself relaxing, mind filled with memories of us in this bed together, and how safe I feel here, until I slip into sleep.

***

I open my eyes, disoriented, watching Zhongli's back retreat from the room. I blink slowly, sitting up, lifting my hands to rub my eyes. I must've fallen asleep, and, I glance out a window, noting the setting sun in the sky, it must've been for hours.

I take in my surroundings, noticing that to my side is a cup of tea on a plate, billowing a soft cloud of steam. I steady myself before reaching for it, then lift it to drink. It tastes floral, minty, bright against my desensitized tongue.

I blink again, trying to focus my eyes as I recollect the events of the day. I notice a slight ache in my head, and remember the fact that I was drunk.

Embarrassment heats my face, the automatic memory of Zhongli's disappointment in me springing to the forefront. I hide in the cup of tea, willing myself to forget.

It's a useless effort.

Though, as memories come back in, I come to a conclusion: I owe Zhongli my thanks, and maybe another apology.

I tilt the cup of tea back, finishing it despite its temperature, then set the empty cup down on it's plate. I lift from bed, stumbling out to the living area, searching for what I want. I find him lounging, a book open in his hands. He hardly glances up at me, brows raised.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

I ignore the question, striding right for him. I plant a hand on his shoulder, swing my leg over his lap, then crawl on top of him, forcing my way into his hold. His arms come back together behind my back, keeping his book steady.

"Better." I finally mumble, once I'm in his lap.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"I'm better." I mumble, pressing my face into his neck, taking care to breathe in a way he can feel. "Thanks to you."

Close like this, I find the same feeling from earlier, a desire for his hands on me, running along my body, the desire to be wanted. I tilt in closer, arching my spine to press our bodies flush. I land a hand on his chest, and slowly drag it down his abdomen.

"Is that so?" Zhongli asks back, voice low, breathy.

I nod into his neck. "You took care of me..." I continue, dragging my hand lower with my goal in mind, resting my fingertips against his belt. "Now I want to take care of you—" My hand ghosts lower, until I'm resting my palm flat against where his cock sits.

I only make it that far before Zhongli's hand covers mine, stopping my movement, pulling it back. I tilt my head back, looking at him with a confused pout. This is the second time he's stopped me. His face is calm, neutral other than the slight uptick in the corner of his lips, his lowered eyes flicking down my face in a controlled way.

"You can't have everything you want." He says, voice low enough my stomach tightens.

He drops my hand from his hold, lifting his own hand to brush my hair from my face. He grazes his fingers against my cheek, holding his eyes on me until I falter, tucking my chin down, embarrassment burning my skin.

He immediately catches my chin, tilting my face back up.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" He says, then sighs, pressing his thumb to my lower lip. "You disobeyed our contract, broke my trust and—" His eyes flick across my face, calculating. "—you need to be punished for it."

I swallow, retracting my hands to myself, curling them in the loose fabric of the shirt I'm wearing, unable to look at up at him. This isn't what I expected, but—

"I'm sorry." I mumble, tilting my hips to press against his lap, keeping my legs spread. "You can—"

"No." Zhongli says as his other hand drops to my hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold me in place. "What kind of discipline is that?" He asks. "Giving you exactly what you want—" He leans in toward me, until his lips hover next to mine. "Exactly what you're desperate for—" His hand slides up my side, to the bottom of my ribs. "—aren't you?"

I whine, nodding, breaking my thin restraint to roll my hips, pressing our bodies together as close as I can without him being inside of me.

"Please—" I breathe out, not above begging.

Zhongli's hands both drop to my hips, stilling my movement. He handles me with his firm grip, until I'm forced off of his lap. He moves my hips into place, sitting me down on his thigh. He holds me there, his expression relaxed as he stares me down.

"Why don't you show me? Show me how desperate you are." He says.

His leg lifts, pressing against everything bare between my legs, giving a moment of pressure. I nearly buckle, relief and arousal curling in my stomach as I finally feel him stimulate me. Then, he stops. I buck my hips, grinding myself against his thigh, chasing to find the same pressure again.

"That's it—" He coaxes out. "Just like that."

I warm under the praise, looking up at him through my lashes, continuing to move my hips, fucking myself against his clothed thigh. All I have the mind to do is roll my hips, my breaths coming out heavier, cut only by soft moans, the pressure between my legs from my movement enough to stimulate my clit.

"Such a pretty sight—" Zhongli continues, watching me. "—getting yourself off on my thigh." At that, his thigh lifts again, the pressure enough to pull another whine from my throat

His lips twitch to smile as he hears it, his thumbs hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up, just barely, not far enough to expose more than my thighs. He lifts his leg again, pressing until I gasp, clenching around his thigh with my own.

He relaxes his leg as I whimper, leaning in toward him. My hips buck, grinding at a more rapid pace, arousal burning low in my abdomen. I whine, lifting one hand to his bicep, curling my fingers around it, holding on to steady myself.

Zhongli tilts his chin back, watching me through half-lidded eyes.

"I bet you can cum just from my thigh, can't you?" He asks.

I nod, swallowing around my tongue, struggling to keep my eyes open as I roll against his thigh in a rhythm, fighting to stimulate my clit, everything between my legs dripping wet as it slides together.

"Pathetic little girl." Zhongli sighs out. "Undisciplined, so easy to make finish." He lifts a hand, sliding it up my thigh, until he's holding my waist with the shirt hitched up around his wrist.

He exposes me with the motion, his eyes turning down to watch me grind myself against his thigh with short desperate movements.

"I bet you feel good, don't you?" He asks, briefly flicking his eyes back up to my face. "Do you want something?"

I whimper, nodding, the movement of my hips losing rhythm, unevenly jerking against his thigh.

"Use your words." He says back.

"Please— please— let me cum— let me— let me cum—" I breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as I chase the pleasure.

"Not yet. Keep going." Zhongli says back. "I want to hear you keep begging... those little noises you let out when you're desperate."

I blink my eyes back open, searching his face as I nod. Though his expression remains calm, there's a flush collecting on his cheeks. And, when I look down, I see his cock is standing to attention, the fabric of his pants tight around the length. I whimper out another moan, twisting my hand in the fabric of his shirt on his bicep, changing the pace of my hips to move faster, the pleasure drawing me in.

Zhongli lets out a noise, holding my hip tighter to slow my movement. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my neck, the warmth of his mouth catching my heart in my throat as his lips continue, brushing along my jaw, until he reaches my ear.

"I can tell what you want." He says, voice low. "You always spread your legs for me, beg me to fuck you, like you deserve it." He moves in closer, nipping my earlobe. "Slow down." He demands.

I'm quick to listen, changing the movement of my hips to slow, intentional rolls, careful to stimulate everything between my legs with each movement. He lifts his leg between mine, pressuring until I whimper, arching my back to move with him.

"Such a pretty noise." Zhongli sighs out, relaxing his leg and leaning back again to watch me. "You can be such a good girl when you listen to me."

My eyes flutter shut, heat warming my chest as I bloom from the praise. I move my hips with intent, pleasure at the forefront of my mind.

"Please—" I beg again. "Let me cum, please sir—" The honorific slips off my tongue, followed by a breathless moan.

Zhongli responds with a pleased noise, his hands tensing on my hips.

"Go ahead." He finally assents. "Ruin yourself with nothing but my thigh. Let me see it."

Permission is all it takes, my entire body rocking as I roll against his thigh the final few times, crashing into an orgasm that grips my muscles tight enough I tremble.

I lift from his knee with a broken moan, tilting forward, arching my back as I succumb to my climax.

As I still tremble, coming down from the high, my breathes panted, Zhongli releases my hip, moving to press his hand between my legs. His other hand hooks into the fabric of my shirt, pulling it above my navel, displaying my body to him. His fingers slide against my pussy, eased by the collecting slick. They feel blunt, spreading me open, then—

I gasp as his fingers press to my clit. My still cum sensitive pussy flutters, gripping on air. My body is torn between pressing into it, or jerking away in over-sensitivity. My thighs twitch, abdomen held tight enough to hurt.

"Look at you." Zhongli sighs out, his eyes locked between my legs. "Such a mess just from riding my thigh— spread open like that's all you're good for." He moves his fingers, gently pressing his index and middle to circle my clit, playing with me despite the way I twitch in oversensitivity.

"You're beautiful like this." He breathes. "I can't imagine how beautiful you'll look when I'm inside of you." He says, then finally retracts his hands, landing them both on his belt as he carefully works to unbuckle and open it.

His fingers move quick, intentional, knowledgeable in the way he undoes the clasp. He doesn't go further than that, instead lifting his hand to catch my wrist, pulling it toward his lap. I whine, taking control back as my hand is guided, fumbling to push into his undergarments, wrapping my hand around his cock. He lifts his hips, helping me adjust further, until his cock is free, flushed red with blood, painfully hard, resting against his stomach, exposed.

My stomach tightens just looking at Zhongli's cock. I'm up before I realize I am, sinking to the ground on my knees, directly between his legs. He watches me with a relaxed smile, his eyes half lidded. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, steadying it as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek, helping me guide in. I push my tongue out, making contact with the head of his cock first. I lap at the slit, the taste of his skin salty on my tongue.

Zhongli's stomach twitches, his cock pulsing in my hand as I finally stimulate him back. I lower my eyes, staring only at his cock, then lean all the way in, taking him into my mouth with a soft moan.

I hear a breathy noise from above me, quiet, and force myself to take his cock deeper, feeling it throb against my tongue.

"Perfect— such a perfect girl—" Zhongli praises, running his fingers through my hair, petting me before he grips again, holding tight. "You know just how to make me feel good— so pretty with my cock down your throat—" He moans again as my mouth tightens. I fight to relax my throat, desperate to take him deeper.

I rock my hips against nothing, like I'm still sat on Zhongli's thigh, moans high in my throat vibrating around his cock. I can feel the arousal between my legs, cascading down my thighs, creating even more of a mess as I move my mouth on his cock, sloppy, focused only on making him feel good as I move my head.

I'm doing well if the constant low moans from Zhongli mean anything.

"Just like that—" He continues to praise. "So good—"

I flutter my eyes shut, forcing myself to take him into my throat again, curling my tongue along the shaft of his cock to follow a vein. His cock throbs against my tongue, his abdomen twitching above me. It lasts for only a moment before a hand lands in my hair, holding tight, pulling me off.

I look at Zhongli with a pout, noticing he looks fucked out of his mind, slowly blinking back at me. I move forward, pushing my tongue out, leaning in open mouthed, desperate for the taste of cum down my throat.

I look up at Zhongli through my lashes, begging with my eyes.

He huffs, blinking down at me. "Not yet." He says. "You don't deserve it yet."

Before I can protest, he releases me, moving his hands back to relax on his thighs.

"Up." He demands.

I nod, swallowing around my nerves, lifting back to my feet on unsteady legs. Zhongli's eyes flick down to my thighs, the slick coating them, glinting in the lowlight. His hands move toward me again, landing on my hips, tugging me closer between his legs. Once he's satisfied with my position, he lifts his hands to unbutton the shirt I'm wearing.

He does each button slowly, intentionally, revealing a new line of skin down my chest, down my stomach, following it with his eyes, until he opens the shirt, putting my body fully on display. I fight to not shy away as he drags his eyes along me, his jaw tensing in restraint.

He doesn't hold for long.

Zhongli's arms wrap my waist, pulling me even closer as he leans in, landing his lips on my stomach. His breath is hot as he drags his mouth across my abdomen, pressing a kiss when he sees fit.

I lift my arms, curling them around his shoulders to cradle his head, one of my knees lifting to rest on his thigh. He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, tight, holding me in place. He drops the other, pushing his hand back between my legs. This time, he has a goal in mind, his rough fingers sliding against the soft skin of my pussy just to wet them, before pushing them further back, until the pads of his fingers just rest at my entrance.

I pull in a sharp breath, my legs tensing in anticipation for him to finally be inside of me, even if it's just his fingers. His mouth moves again, up my ribs, to my chest, his breath hot against my breast, his tongue pushing out to lap at my nipple just as— ah.

I gasp, my body tensing as Zhongli's fingers finally push in, two sinking into me, stretching me out as he curls them up, petting my insides. He distracts me by rolling my nipple with his teeth, a pleased noise low in his throat as I react, arching toward his stimulation, melting into his control.

His fingers are slow, careful to not hurt me as he pumps them in and out of me. I flutter my pussy, gripping down, desperate to feel him deeper. I lift my hands, carding them into his hair to hold tight, still cradling his head as he moves his mouth of my breast up to my collar, scraping with his teeth.

I feel the pressure of another finger resting at my entrance and tense my thighs, already stretched tight. His lips move higher, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck as the only warning I get before the third finger pushes in, pulling a whimper from low in my throat.

Zhongli keeps his stimulation gentle, darting his tongue out to drag it up the tendon of my neck, sinking his fingers back into me, stretching me with the taper of his fingers' girth. I tug his hair tight, tight enough to pull him from my neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and look at me. His expression is dark, unsated, desire apparent. I take panted breaths, staring back down at him as I milk his fingers.

"Please—" I breathe out. "Please, sir."

It's all it takes, the corner of Zhongli's lips twitching to smile as he pulls his fingers out of me, dragging a wave of slick with them. I tilt my head down to watch as he leads that hand to his lap, wrapping it around his cock, pumping and wetting the length.

His hand on my waist drops down my hip, guiding me to turn my back to him. He holds tight, lifting and handling me until I'm spread on his lap, my knees planted to either side of his, his mouth pressed to my shoulder. He wraps my waist from behind, holding me in place to his chest.

His other hand stays on his cock, guiding to press the head of it to my pussy. He slides against me, dragging the tip through everything sensitive, before lining up with my entrance. He holds his cock steady, kissing along the length of my shoulder, to my neck, waiting with his lips pressed to my ear.

"Go ahead." He breathes out. "Take it."

I swallow, nodding, looking down my abdomen, staring at his cock where it connects with me. I lift my hands, curling them around the arm he's wrapped my waist with, digging in with my nails to hold tight as I shift my hips, sinking down on his cock. I feel his stomach tighten against my back, a jagged breath escaping his lips as I finally envelop him, lowering onto his cock until I'm resting in his lap, our bodies fully connected.

I only pause for a moment, small moans slipping from my mouth as I adjust to finally being stretched on his cock. I can't help but move, lifting my knees to bounce in his lap, fucking myself.

Zhongli's sucks in a breath once I move, sharp, tightening the hand he has on my waist to hold me in place.

"Not yet." He says, voice low, restrained. "You don't deserve it yet. Sit." He demands.

I whine, fluttering my pussy along the length of his cock, just barely shifting my hips to keep stimulated.

"Please—" I beg again, desperate to move.

"No." He says back, firm in his resolve. "I want to see how desperate you can get—" His free hand drops between my legs, sliding against my pussy to explore where I'm stretched on his cock.

"Keep begging." He sighs out, dragging his fingers to my clit, evenly pressuring.

"Please, I— ah—" I draw in a sharp breath as his mouth continues to move against my shoulder, tightening down on the skin, sucking to bruise.

I whine as he loosens his mouth, dragging his tongue along the mark to soothe it, then moves higher, sucking another.

"I—I—" I swallow around my noises, hips fighting to move as Zhongli keeps me held in place. "I want you to feel good— please—" I manage to gasp out. "Let me— let me make you feel good—"

Zhongli makes a noise, low, that rumbles his chest where it's pressed to my back. He moves his arm from my waist up, dragging his fingers into my soft skin that gives under his touch, up to my neck. He circles my neck with his hand, his palm flat to my throat. His chin hooks over my shoulder, tilting down so he can watch the muscles of my abdomen tense, his fingers still playing between my legs. The hand on my throat tightens, holding me still, until there's a fuzz in my brain, intoxicating in the way he's controlling me.

"I do feel good." He breathes out. "—watching you like this— trembling little thing—" He squeezes the sides of my throat tight, speeding his fingers to a stutter against my clit.

I whimper, entire body pulling tight enough to shake, being forced toward another orgasm quicker than I can handle.

"You can't even control yourself— all those noises— you're so reactive." He tapers off, voice low.

He slows his fingers to more intentional strokes, dragging my orgasm out of me. I shout, eyes rolling back as the feeling overtakes. I dig into his arms with my nails, shaking through it as I cum in waves. It pulses through my abdomen, making me tighten on his cock. He goes until it's too much, continuing to pet my clit even as my hips jerk, whines constant in my throat, body arching away from the stimulation in oversensitivity.

"Please— sir—" I beg again, whining as tears collect in my eyes.

"You should see yourself—" He continues speaking, unfazed despite the way his fingers finally move from my clit, dragging up to rest his palm flat to my twitching abdomen.

I swallow, fighting to open my eyes, head rolling back, thoughts fuzzy.

"I want—" I start, mumbling. "I want to make you feel good— please fuck me—" I beg.

Zhongli huffs a laugh against my back. "So," he starts, soft, "You want—" His hips adjust, his arm steadying me as he finally snaps his hips up, fucking into me once.

It pulls a guttural moan from my throat, my mentality lost as I melt in his hands.

"—this?" He asks, rocking his hips against my ass before pulling back and snapping them again.

I whimper, managing to nod despite the way my head rolls back.

"Yeah— yes—" I mewl out, completely pliant in his hands.

Zhongli hums in consideration, tightening his grip on my hips to hold me still, then finally fucks himself into me, rolling his hips in a rhythm. The room fills with the sound of our skin connecting, my wanton moans a constant that he meets with heavy breaths of his own, unwavering as he fucks himself up into my lax body.

His endurance might be the death of me, his thrusts never stopping as I bounce in his lap from the force he's using to fuck into me, nearly just along for the ride, holding on tight.

I try to last, but don't make it long before the threat of an orgasm builds again, low in my abdomen.

"I'm—" I whimper out, thighs tensing where they bracket him, before crashing into another orgasm.

It rips through my body, hard enough to hurt, every muscle feeling exhausted, weak. Zhongli's hips never slow. Instead, he fucks into me harder, even as I feel myself cry out, face wet from tears and saliva, digging my nails into his arm deep enough to draw blood.

"Please— please— Zhongli—" I whine, tapping his arm, begging for a moment of mercy.

"Pathetic." Zhongli sighs out from behind me, though, he slows his hips to a stop, holding my stomach as I fight to catch my breath.

I try to relax, fluttering around the length of his cock buried inside of me. I realize, sitting down, his lap is soaked. I must have—

"What a messy thing." Zhongli observes first, rocking his hips against me.

"I'm sorry." I whimper out, flexing my numb fingers, trying to get a handle on myself. "I keep— I— it hurts— it's— I'm sorry."

"We can stop." He says, voice finally soft. "If that's what you want."

I'm quick to shake my head, refusing to finish until he's cum, until I've pleased him. I lift my own hips, fighting the ache in my thighs to ride, rolling back into his lap.

Zhongli hums, pleased, pressing his lips to my shoulder. "Good girl." He breathes out. "That's why you're mine."

I nod, moans high, whined, fighting my own body to ride his cock. I move in rough, jerky motions, lifting as far out of his lap as I can manage, sure to drag the full length of his cock out until the head catches my entrance, then sink back down.

I'm encouraged by the noises that start to slip from Zhongli, low, exhaled moans that come in tandem with each bounce. I steady myself, arching my back to ride with as much fervor as I can muster, colliding with his lap as I bounce.

Zhongli's hands begin to tense, his moans more frequent, his stomach tight against my back. It's almost a relief when his hips snap up, colliding into my movement, his cock jerking to flood warmth low in my belly as he exhales a shuddered moan against my shoulder, throbbing inside of me.

Shaking, I lift to my knees, only for Zhongli to pull me right back into place.

"I'm not done with you." He says, voice steady. "You're staying right here. I'll use you again when I feel like it."

I whimper, nodding. I can feel myself throbbing, milking his cock that remains buried inside of me, the mess between us growing.

Zhongli settles back, one arm still looping my waist, the other reaching to his side, lifting the book he was reading earlier.

It's humiliating, crumbling back to lean into his chest, eyes barely staying open, watching as he occupies himself by reading, all while his softening cock is buried inside of me, twitching every time I clench. Though, the break is needed, pain from oversensitivity fading.

He doesn't let me rest much, occasionally pausing only to fuck up into me, his cock growing increasingly hard as the time ticks on, until he's fully erect, rocking against me again. Though, he doesn't seem to react to it, instead continuing to read even as he tilts his hips hard enough noises slip from my throat.

Zhongli holds, unmoving, unwavering, keeping me split open on his cock until I'm throbbing, arousal low in my abdomen demanding I be fucked again. I squirm in his lap, clenching down, desperate for him to react, hold my hips, take what's his.

Instead, he reads his book like he doesn't feel it, feel me pulsing around his cock buried inside of me, cum and slick dripping from my thighs, my stomach warm where he's filled me.

Every movement becomes torture, every breath forcing his cock to move inside of me, teasing in the way it drags along everything sensitive. He continues to let his hips twitch, fucking his cock up into me with no real intent other than to make me whimper.

I only make it so long before I break, tilting my own hips, carefully lifting my knees to bounce in his lap in short, careful motions.

Zhongli notices.

"Did I give you permission?" He asks, voice low, freezing me in place.

I whine, shaking my head.

"N-no—" I mumble out.

Zhongli sighs, lifting his hands, slowly, carefully marking his page and setting the book down. His arm wraps my legs under my knees, lifting and holding them to my chest. His other wraps my waist, holding me in place, then, he stands, still inside of me, carrying me to his bedroom.

He releases me onto his bed on my stomach, keeping his cock locked inside. He presses a hand to the center of my upper back, holding me in place, then finally shifts his hips, pulling his cock out. I whine, clenching on air, feeling the cum-slick mixture pulse from my abused pussy, drooling out, across my clit and out onto the sheets.

Zhongli lets out a low noise at the sight, pressing his hand firmly against my back, before finally stepping away.

I whine once out of contact with him, shifting to flip to my back, look at him carefully slipping out of his clothes. He peels them off, layer by layer, until he's nude, then finally comes back to pay me attention. I lift my knees, keeping my thighs held together, watching as he watches me.

"You need to learn to obey me—" He sighs as he approaches, landing his hands on my thighs, pulling them apart. "You can't get out of trouble just by spreading your legs open and being my whore, no matter how much favor it wins you."

He digs into the soft flesh with his fingers, glancing down between my legs as he slots his cock against my pussy, sliding against it. His fingers hook into the shirt I still have on, roughly jerking the fabric to tear it off my body, until we're both nude.

Zhongli's hips roll, dragging his cock along everything sensitive while he stares at me, a mess in his sheets, twisting my hands and panting, begging for more.

"No one wants a disobedient girl—" He sighs out, shifting his hands up to my hips and holding on tight. He tugs, dragging me down the sheets until my ass hangs over the edge of his bed. He stands between my thighs, leaning in toward me, holding my spread legs upright.

"I'm— sorry—" I choke out again. "I'm sorry, sir."

Zhongli inhales, slow, restrained, staring down at my face. He shifts his hips back, until just the tip of his cock is pressed to me. He moves his hand until he can wrap the base, guiding it lower between my legs until the head rests just at my entrance.

"Beg." He says, low.

I whimper, nodding, a repeated 'please' spilling from my mouth like breath. I rock my hips, feeling the head of his cock catch as it slides against my pussy, desperation taking over the way I lift my hips, until I'm begging with my body, too.

Zhongli slips into a pleased smile, watching me break beneath him, until his hands tighten on my body again, holding me in place.

"You're such a good girl when you listen." He praises, then finally shifts in, pushing his cock inside of me.

I gasp as I feel him enter, eyes rolling back, scrambling to wrap his hips with my legs. My hands lift to my chest, curling there.

I brace as Zhongli drags his cock out, just in time for him to snap his hips forward, fucking into me hard enough I drag up the sheets. There's no mercy in his pace, the snap of his hips rough, colliding into me as he grips my thighs, trying to hold me in place.

I moan with each thrust, pulsing in tandem with the drag of his cock inside of me. I know I look like a mess, but I'm not present enough to care, instead focused on panting through my breaths as he fucks himself into me, the sound of our skin connecting filling the room.

The drag of his cock is perfect, stimulating everything inside of me, keeping me stretched open. I keep moaning, desperate, held tilted back, barely present enough to watch Zhongli fuck himself into me through my lashes.

I have to tilt my chin back, guttural moans carving my throat, entire body pulling tight as Zhongli fucks me like it's nothing. An ache starts in my core, forcing me to grip harder on his cock. It's a familiar tension in my muscles, dragging me closer to an orgasm, his cock pounding against every sensitive spot.

"I'm— I can't—" I sigh out, turning my face into my shoulder through my whimpered moans.

"Already?" Zhongli asks, never slowing the roll of his hips. "Pathetic mewling thing—" He moans himself, guiding his hand to wrap my throat, loosely holding it, digging his other hand into my thigh.

I whimper through my moan, too embarrassed to look at him, the roll of an orgasm building low in my stomach, close enough to hurt.

"I'm—" I manage to whimper out, before cascading into an orgasm, pussy fluttering around the length of Zhongli's cock.

"So quick." He chastises, seemingly unaffected.

I can feel my body trembling with the effort, it takes to be fucked, constant mewled moans spilling from my throat. I feel messy, used, my hands curling against my chest as he continues to fuck into me. The drag of his cock overstimulates, my cum sensitive pussy making me desperate enough that my thighs fight to close, preserve what's between them.

Zhongli refuses it, dropping both hands to hold my thighs tight, keeping me spread.

"No." He chastises, breathless. "You'll take it until I'm done."

I mewl out, desperate, darting both of my hands down to hold his forearms, digging in with my nails, jerking my hips as his movement never stops.

"Please—" I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for at this point, shaking with the effort, head rolling back on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir— please— please— it hurts— I'm sorry—"

I look up to Zhongli, pleading with my eyes. It takes a moment, but his expression finally softens, his thrusts slowing until he's resting with his hips flush to my ass, I continue to tremble, clenching around his paused cock. I jump as his hand connects to my chest, his rough skin tenderly dragging down my ribs and abdomen.

He goes to my own hands, prying them from his arms, lifting them until they're above my head. He slots his hand against mine, threading our fingers together, squeezing tight. The motion grounds me, preparing me for when hips rock, gently stimulating me with his cock again.

"You can do it." Zhongli sighs out, rocking himself into me, carefully moving his hips. "Just keep taking my cock like my good girl." He squeezes my hand with his as he talks, tilting his hips back to drag the full length of his cock out of me before fucking it back in.

"You're perfect—" He praises, even as my eyes roll back, "Such a— such a good girl."

I warm under the praise, blinking up at Zhongli as I come back to my body, stretched open on his cock.

"I'm—" I mumble out, disoriented.

He holds me tighter, leaning in to catch my lips. He exhales against them before we meet, kissing me with an even pressure. I arch into it, heart thumping as I warm from the affection.

Zhongli pulls back, hovering his lips next to mine as he speaks.

"You can do it—" He breathes out. "That's my girl."

I tilt my head back, eyes fluttering shut as I relax against the mattress. The drag of his cock in and out of me continues, gentler than before. He rolls his hips against me, breathy moans of his own escaping, a relaxed look on his face.

Zhongli squeezes my hand tight, a grounding motion, before his hips speed, chasing. I lift my shaking legs, wrapping his hips and holding on for the ride, my lax body dragging up the sheets, until, finally, his thrusts lose rhythm again, stuttered movement matching the moaned noises from low in his throat. I watch his face, until his expression breaks, the surrender of ecstasy taking over. There's a catch in his breath, noises low in his throat all warning whats to come.

I flutter around his pulsing cock as it finally jerks, flooding my stomach, his hand holding mine tight enough to hurt.

He watches my face as he cums, looking relaxed, before coming down, meeting my lips with his hips resting flush to my ass. I'm kissed hard enough my head tilts back into the sheets, trembling body otherwise pliant in his hands. He handles me up the bed, to the center, carefully to stay inside of me. I sigh as he relaxes, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, coming down from the high as our bodies continue to rock together, no real chase for pleasure in the movement, just a desire for closeness.

"I'm proud—" Zhongli starts, pressing another kiss to my lips. "—so proud to call you mine."

I muster just enough energy to smile, lifting my hands to thread them into his hair and hold him against my lips a moment longer, before I fully collapse, exhausted.

Looking up at Zhongli, wrapped in his arms, I watch his face soften. The severity of his expression eases, tension melting from him, until he finally seems relaxed.

"I'm sorry." I mumble again, quiet. "I'm sorry for breaking the contract."

Zhongli smiles, soft, bringing a hand up to cup my face, running his thumb along my cheek.

"I forgive you." He says. "It was a mistake."

His hand lifts from my face, grabbing one of my hands at the wrist. He places it above my head, curling his fingers around the bracelet he gave me to signal our bond.

"If you choose to do it again... I won't hesitate to remind you that you belong to me." He says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips.

I nod, eyes barely open, body sinking into the exhaustion that envelops it, finally feeling settled with the spoken forgiveness.

I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.

—but, if it means getting punished like this...

I might repeat the mistake.

#genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fic #genshin impact #genshin #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x y/n #zhongli

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

French Class [2]

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this part! I’m excited to put out more parts soon!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, oral (f receiving), car sex, dirty talk, college!au, nerd!reader, fuckboy!bias

words: 4.4 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez

“And then he asked me if I would wear his tie around my neck while he- Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you there?” Your roommate, Chohee, waved her hand in front of your face from across the table. You had occupied the seats in the back of the Chinese restaurant, in a niche where you were mostly hidden from other customers. Turns out, for all the spicy stories she had in store – as always – that had been a great idea.

“I swear your thoughts have been all over the place lately. Are you sure you have nothing to talk about?” She twirled a strand of her dyed pink hair around her fingers while she mustered you suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out. It’s nothing, I’m just tired. I’ve been studying day and night. Looks like you’re the only one with the stories today. Just start again from the part where he got the whipped cream from the fridge,” you said.

“We went over that part five minutes ago! Have you paid any attention?” Chohee shook her head with a grin. Then she began her bedroom-adventure story from the beginning, because she knew as well as you, she loved talking about it.

Truth was, you had one hell of a story to tell. And no, you had not been paying attention. Not because you were tired. Not because you had studying on your mind. But because one hundred percent of your focus was currently directed at the boy only a few tables from yours. You only saw the back of his head, but there was no doubt about his identity. The mop of hair was unmistakable. Plus, he was in his famous black leather jacket. There was no mistaking this piece of clothing. It was decorated with white splatters of acrylic paint and had his name written messily across the top of his back. You could just about make out the tips of the letters as he leaned back comfortably, legs spread on his chair, chatting to his friend.

Chohee had no idea about the grip the person behind her had on you. She was your closest friend, and yet you hadn’t broken the news to her: You were hooking up (and not just once) with the so-called “hottest guy on campus”. AT least those had been her words when she had first told you about him. Lately you had to admit, you were starting to agree. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep secrets from her. In fact, on many occasions you had almost crumbled and told her the full story. Had she not been such a chatterbox, and did she not love gossiping as much as she did, you swore she would already know about your little arrangement with him.

She was aware of this much: You and him were casual friends. Study buddies, one would say. You had subtly passed over the little details of your friendship. How grocery store visits sometimes turned into visits to his dorm because of a simple text of his, or how you had sneaked out on more than one occasion in the middle of the night because he had told you his dormmates weren’t home. It wasn’t weird to Chohee that you brushed over the particularities of your “one-night-stands” when you returned in the mornings. You had never been as big on sharing as she was.

Maybe you wanted to keep things to yourself out of fear what people would say, too. You couldn’t care less whether people knew you were sleeping around. But everyone knew him, or so it seemed. Girls wanted him. Boys wanted to be him. All you desired was his friendship and some fun. You had no interest in being known on campus or having people you’ve never met giving you the side-eye over having sex with an oh-so-special boy. One day you would tell Chohee all about it. You weren’t technically lying. Just not sharing the entire story.

“Remember how I said H/N was the hottest guy ever?” Chohee suddenly said. The sound of his name made your head snap back to reality.

“Oh, now you’re listening, I see. All it takes is for me to mention your new bestie,” she teased. “You shouldn’t get too attached to him. I have a feeling that girls are interchangeable to him, either way. Anyway, I’ve decided I find his friend Korain much more attractive, since I’ve been hooking up with him.”

Would it be weird to correct her? To promise her, when you had more time and weren’t so distracted, you would lay the truth on her? He isn’t like that at all, you wanted to say. Yes, he liked female attention. But that didn’t make him a bad guy. Would it sound crazed to explain how he knew how you took your coffee, and how he sent you pictures of your favorite animals before your exams to take some of the nerves away? Or how he reported that it took him exactly 1,012 steps to get to your dorm from his place? Multiple times you had tried to count the distance yourself, but you never seemed to have enough focus to make it. Something always caught you off guard. You had doubted his credibility, but he swore he wasn’t bluffing.

Speaking of his friend Korain – who was at this very Chinese restaurant with H/N – he was suddenly making eye contact with you. Before you could slide lower into your seat like a frightened animal, he had grinned at you. Oh no. Prompted by his friend’s smile in your direction, H/N now turned his head. You were thankful Chohee was still deep in her explanation on why she had changed her opinions on the two very boys only a few tables away. If only she knew.

H/N’s eyes caught yours and a smirk plastered on his face. You assumed the tiny smile you sent him would do, but no. The two young men had collected their things and were getting ready to leave. The exit was the opposite direction, and yet H/N took the long way there. His stride was that of a model as he approached your table.

“Y/N,” he said, voice sweet like sugar candy and his smile charming like famous artwork. “You wanna hang at the library later?”

Chohee was now eyeing him as if she was your bodyguard and he was an obsessed fan who had crossed into your personal space. All you could think of was how you wanted him as your dessert. Now. But you had an exam coming up in a few days. So, his invitation fit just right.

“I’ll be there.” You smiled politely. He gave you a raised eyebrow, but then nodded, said goodbye, spun around and followed his friend out of the restaurant. When you looked at Chohee, she was already giving you eyes that asked a billion questions at once. Fantastic. Now you’d have to explain that “hang at the library” was not some sort of codeword for sex, but you had – against all odds – convinced the local prince of fuckboys that studying wasn’t such an atrocious idea after all. But fate saved you before you could begin your clarification.

“Oh no! Where has the time gone? I have to get to my afternoon lecture!” Chohee exclaimed, quickly gathering her purse and jacket. “My professor will curse me if I’m late again!”

And with that, she scrambled up from the table. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy just because I have to go! I demand a good story when I get home!”

You knew she was just being dramatic, and should you decide to keep everything to yourself for another month, she wouldn’t be mad. And yet, the urge to tell her crept up on you as you watched her hurry out of the door while waving one last time. Your morning classes had been the only appointment in your calendar for the day. So, with nothing else to do, you fished for your phone to message him for a time to meet at the library.

“What were you being so weird for earlier?” he asked as he plopped down on the wooden chair across from you. His books slammed on the table, and you flinched a little. Boys.

“Thanks for reminding me why I chose to sit in the group project area today. Could you be any louder in a library?” you said. “And thank god we’re the only ones here.”

“Thanks for reminding me that you’re still great at avoiding questions,” he returned.

“I just didn’t want my friend to ask questions.”

“So you talked to me like a five year old would respond to their kindergarten teacher? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? The guy with the reputation?”

“No, I’m not. Wait? What? And what kind of reputation would that be, if I may ask? The you-only-sleep-with-a-girl-once-reputation?”

“You should know the nastiest rumors mostly prove to be false. I was thinking of something more delightful. Like a gives-the-best-head-on-campus-kind of reputation.”

You snorted. “And who is going to do the research to prove that?”

“Why don’t you look around and report back to me?” he smirked.

“No thanks. I’m already hooking up with a guy who’s more than a handful.”

He faked taking offence in your words with a theatrical gasp. “Is that so? The girl I’m hooking up with isn’t much better. Always asks to hang at the library like she doesn’t beg me to fuck her the second we get out of there.”

“Let me remind you that you were the one who suggested this place today,” you said. “I was ready to jump into your bed and you had to stall time like this.”

“Are you for real? What are we still doing here, then?” he asked, and you tilted your head with a suggestive grin that mirrored his.

15 minutes later:

“Who the fuck stores five umbrellas in their car?” You kicked another one off the backseat you were lying on. Your bra was exposed beneath your shirt which he had pushed up on your chest and was now attacking the exposed skin with hungry kisses.

“That’s what you get for not getting it on in the library,” he muttered against your skin without looking up.

“We’d be asking to get suspended from there by doing that,” you said. “And I cherish my library very much.”

He only made a snickering noise and shook his head before he went to take off his shirt – and promptly hit his head on the car roof. “Ow! This sucks. I can barely move.”

“That’s what you get for not waiting until we’re at your place,” you teased him with his own words. But judging by the prominent bulge in his pants, you supposed you didn’t want him driving anywhere. Not with naughty things on his mind, and with you next to him to only make him hornier. Your eyes fell on the dark purple spots on his abdomen, and you grinned.

“Wow. Someone must have worked hard to make that stomach even prettier,” you said.

“Yeah, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He bent down to your ear and his husky tone sent cold shivers up your spine. Of course, you knew. You were the one who bit and sucked the hickeys into his skin two days ago, after all. His hands palming your boobs through your bra drew out a desperate sigh from you.

“Let’s play a game. What do you say?” he asked.

“What kind of game would that be?” Your interest was roused. He was lost in thought for a moment, hands slowly running up and down your exposed legs. Luckily, you had opted for a skirt today. All he’d had to do was to push it up to your belly and get rid of your underwear after your short but very steamy make-out session on the backseat. The cool air on your exposed core was only magnifying your impatience.

“Whoever comes first, loses.” You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his idea, and he eyed you with indignation. “You don’t like it?”

“Everyone knows women take longer to orgasm than men do,” you said. “Are you trying to dig your own grave or what?”

“That’s why I’ll have a head start,” he announced. His hands circled the skin close to your core, creeping up your thighs slowly.

“And what’s the prize for winning?”

“The loser owes the winner a favor.”

“Too vague. I don’t trust you with that.”

“I don’t trust you, she says as she waits for me to fuck her in my car,” he mocked.

“I don’t trust your crazy ideas,” you clarified. “What about this? The winner pays for the loser’s next meal when we eat together.”

“Deal.” He slid his fingers over your pussy, and you crumbled into a whining mess within seconds. No matter how much your head denied it, he really was the best. He caught your clit between his digits and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment.

“Shit, you only turn me on more if you’re going to moan like that.” He lowered his head and spit on your center, and the laughter that had been bubbling in your throat died in an instant. His fingers rubbed your nub fast and spread his saliva – without doubt his attempt at tipping you closer to the edge before he had even begun to fuck you.

“Too bad you find me so hot,” you said, and let out a purposely dramatic whimper, followed by his name in your best fake-porn-voice. His smile had something wholesome, as if he was admiring his friend making silly jokes, but also a glint of playfulness. You knew had been a mask when he bit his lip and exhaled slowly. With ease, he slid his middle finger into you. As he curled it against your sweet spot, he bent down to suck on your clit and your back arched at the sudden pleasure.

“Too bad you’re going to lose,” he said, and then continued his antics. Had he continued this way for another few minutes, his words wouldn’t have been so far from the truth. But you had other plans.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” you asked. “That’s enough of your head start.”

“I only just tasted you. Why would it be called a head start, if you’re going to stop me two minutes into giving you head?” he asked and you would’ve slapped his shoulder, had he been close enough. Instead, you closed your eyes for a few seconds. He was the competitive one here, and you didn’t mind enjoying yourself for now. Sighing in temporary defeat, your head fell back onto the seat. The sun was shining its last rays through the car window. They caught in his curled eyelashes and on his skin, coloring him golden.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, arm snaking around your thigh. He held on to you, but it wasn’t as if you could have moved away from him. Your head was right by the car door. His lips around your clit paired with his finger steadily rubbing against your sweet spot inside of you made you feel like floating. His free hand touched your leg gently, caressing your skin as if he wasn’t also simultaneously pushing you to the urge to yell out his name in pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, as if you needed to do so to keep him in place. But something in the back of your mind still had a desire for winning. Trying to collect the last bits of your dwindling sanity, you hatched a plan. Good on you – you knew just what rode him into madness.

“I- I need you to fuck me, please,” you begged, making sure to add an extra layer of tragedy to your voice. “Please, I want it so bad.”

He looked up at you, a dark glint in his eyes. Of course, he did. All was going according to plan. It wasn’t like you had known him all your life, but you were perfectly aware of one thing. He could never resist your dirty talking and begging.

“Please?” you bat your eyelashes ever so longingly at him.

“Is that so?” He was now straightening up. His black pupils were dilated, and he was looking at you with the expectation of a loyal puppy waiting for his treat. You grabbed the front hem of his pants and pulled him towards you. In a moment, you had unzipped the material for him.

“I want you to fuck me like you did the first time we met. At the party,” you said. “Do you ever think about it, too?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” he said. Faster than you could register, he was ripping a condom wrapper and sliding it onto his free length. His cock stood angry and hard against his stomach. Perhaps your dramatic words weren’t so far-fetched. You couldn’t wait for him.

“Then do it, please,” you said. “Right now, this pussy is all yours. Use it the way it should be used.”

He muttered a swear under his breath and you knew he was in the palm of your hand. His hot breath fanned your neck as he bent over you, cock aligned with your exposed core. For a moment his length slid through your wetness, and he groaned at the warmth that was about to engulf him.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you moaned. “And all for you.”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the exaggerated show you were putting on for him as much as he did. Although, you weren’t sure whether you were allowed to call it exaggeration, at all. Your walls clenched around nothing as the tip of his cock touched your juices and he eyed you like he could’ve eaten you up right then and there.

When he finally entered you, he instantly sighed. His eyes were shut tightly as he dealt with the impact of feeling you around his shaft. A small spark of triumph went through you. That was, until he pushed your legs up and snapped his hips against yours. A sharp, sudden burst of pleasure shot through you and the coil in your stomach tightened all at once. You suspected your plan was backfiring slightly. Your words not only appealed to him and his famished mind and body. They also got to your head, and there you were, barely able to contain yourself under a load of blind hunger.

“You want me to fuck you senseless, huh?” he asked. His words went straight to your core. Nonetheless, you had a goal to work towards and you weren’t set on giving up.

“Yes, oh my god,” you whimpered. “That’s all I’m asking for. Please, I know you can. You always fuck me so well.”

In response, he rammed his body into yours so abruptly, you gave off a noise of surprise and pleasure at the same time. He bent his upper body over yours to support himself. His hands lay flat on the seat on both sides of your head. His thrusts made your legs shake now and then, when his cock hit that one spot inside of you. It was causing you to see entire galaxies on the inside of your eyelids. When you blinked up at him, the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. Darkness had always suit him better than the golden sunset, either way. The muscles in his arms flexed and his eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment you called victory yours. But you couldn’t be sure for longer than a moment.

Because from one second to another he straightened up and slowed his thrusts. The gradualness had something equally as striking. He dragged his cock through your scarlet walls and his fingers found your clit. You drew out a ragged breath and cursed him for regaining the upper hand. Yet, you quickly abandoned the thought of defeat. When you allowed yourself to feel the pleasure, every last thought vanished at last. You moaned and whimpered helplessly. Without overthinking, you wrapped your hand around his wrist. He shot you a confused smirk.

“Too much, baby?” he said. “Think you won’t be able to handle it? A shame. It would really be too bad if you lost. You were doing so well up to now.”

You swallowed, hard. His patronizing voice tugged at your nerves and yet you loved when he spoke to you this way during sex. And he was aware of it – hence his knowing grin.

“Don’t stop moving,” you asked him to keep up his thrusts. “It’s not fair, otherwise.”

“Oh no. I would never dare break the rules,” he said.

He did as you said, and it only made things more mind-consuming for you. You were again reminded of the small tornado raging in the pit of your belly, threatening to consume you all over. It was only a matter of time. But what he could do, you could do better.

“Do you like fucking me in my skirt?” you taunted him, blinking ever so sweetly. Your eyes were dripping honey as you put on your most innocent gaze. “Am I pretty like this?”

“You’re the prettiest,” he muttered, biting his lip as if he was stopping a thousand moans from spilling out. “So. Fucking. Hot.”

“If I wear this skirt to class tomorrow, and you see me in the halls, will you think of this moment?” you asked. His fingers on your clit were shaky and moving unevenly. You might have been digging your own grave along with his. You didn’t care. Too many lectures you had wasted, barely able to concentrate because of the boy on top of you.

“Definitely. You weren’t wearing that earlier, at the restaurant,” he said. You wondered how many people had ever seen him this way – utterly breathless, all his cool vaporizing at once.

“Good observation,” you said, but you were struggling with your words as much as he was unable to keep calm. What was meant to sound lazy and seductive had morphed into a whimper and small sighs. “I wasn’t. I- I put it on just for you.”

He cursed again and abandoned all his remaining self-control. His grip on you was iron-tight and you clenched your fists. Oh, how you wished you could have buried your head into a pillow, or better even, the crook of a neck. Instead, you moaned his name almost soundlessly and searched for his dark eyes.

“Say my name again,” he demanded, like it was his last request on earth. So, you obeyed, only because you would have done anything for him right now, if it meant that he would keep fucking you that way.

“Oh my- my god,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop, fuck-“

“You look so hot right now, baby,” he groaned. “Shit- I could come just looking at you.”

“Then do it,” you said. Challengingly, you both smirked at each other. It lasted only the blink of an eye. You felt your insides twist before you could have prevented it. And all of a sudden, you crashed. Your intense orgasm erupted, and it took you several seconds to realize it, but then you heard it. His high-pitched moans, quiet and curse-stricken, could only mean one thing. You weren’t the only one, and therefore not the first to reach your high. A content smile spread on your face as his messy thrusts went on for a short while and you bathed in the remaining moments of bliss.

Silence set in as you both kept still to catch your breaths. You worried he would pin the loss on you, nonetheless, and inwardly braced yourself for his accusations. But to your surprise, he only laughed and collapsed on top of you. His breath tickled your neck slightly.

“We’ll be splitting the bill, I suppose?” he said. He straightened up to look you in the eyes playfully.

“Looks like it,” you said. You guessed his fighting spirit had been appeased and his energy had been spent on better things than arguing with you. You never minded it.

“Did you have a nice study session? Does the library lady assume you’re homeless and actually living there, yet?” Chohee teased as you entered your shared kitchen. She was typing on her phone but looked up when you only laughed.

“Is that a hickey?” she asked, and you knew you were done for. “What exactly is it you were studying? H/N’s body?”

“I guess I should tell you. Sooner or later, you’ll know,” you relented.

“Tell me what? Oh my god. Are you guys dating? Are you dating H/N?”

“No! You know I have no time for a boyfriend,” you said. “But…we’ve been hooking up.”

“Damn girl,” she said. “What do you have on him that he keeps coming back?”

“Excuse me? Am I really that boring of a company?”

“No. You’re the best company I could ever ask for, obviously,” she said, smiling at you. “But you remember his reputation. He sleeps with the same girl only once.”

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” you said. “Besides, we’re not just hooking up. He’s my friend. You already knew that.”

“Friend, huh?” Chohee asked. “Alright. So, you’re telling me he can hang out with you without trying to get it on?”

“He can, actually. And let me tell you, he’s cool. And pretty funny, too,” you said. She raised her eyebrows at you. “We’ve set some rules. We hook up, but also hang out as friends. Neither is allowed to be upset when the other turns down sex. We can both hook up with anyone else, still. No jealousy, no attachments. Just a good time.”

“Alright,” Chohee nodded. “If you’re so close, do you think you could introduce me to some of his friends sometime?”

You laughed, nodding. Chohee and H/N had quite some things in common, you realized then. Maybe that’s why you liked the two of them so much.

“Let’s see how long that lasts, then. Don’t wrap him too tightly around your finger, or he might trip and fall,” she winked. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow. Whatever she might have been insinuating – you had zero plans of making it reality. (Yet.)

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