(Look here for the origination post, here for me talking about it, and here for the masterpost). Day 7 will be about Lgbtq head canon of your choice. Being the end of this event, it will be an M-rated fanfic. Because why not?
Setting: pre-TMR (Benho - this week really got me into other ships)
Rating: M
Trigger-warning: none needed
Being Runners, there are times that the pair are bound to have left during some days. And one of the greatest advantage of being surrounded by the massive and untraceable maze, is that the two of them are sure to be alone. Based on this fanart.
I have actually teased this fic here, so as you can see, I’ve actually written this for quite some time. As I’ve mentioned this is inspired by hielorei‘s fanart, so thank you for that. Saw the reblogged version of this post with the saved url handjobsinthemaze being mentioned and I just had to. But yea, end of the week, sorry for having it been sloppy and messy but I really tried. With a minor hiatus previously and whatnot, things and schedules went everywhere. If there’s one thing though, is that I explored different ships here - first Minewt then Benho... maybe I should stick to Newtmas (I do ship Benho though).
Gazing down at his watch, Minho looked back up, a coy grin forming on his face.
“Got time. You want to?”
Without hesitating even a moment, Ben smiled back, biting his bottom lip. In one swift motion he got in front of Minho, towering over him with his height. With his hands he pinned the Asian down against the wall harshly by the underarms, their faces leaning dangerously close.
“Do you?” Ben growled back, his voice low and dominating.
As Minho began pushing forward to pull the two into a kiss, Ben sprang into action. With force he crashed their lips together, knocking Minho back into Ben’s hand between them and the wall. Minho closed his eyes and allowed Ben’s tongue to explore the mouth that he was so very familiar with, yet could never get enough of. At the thought of it, he moaned out stiflingly, opening his mouth wider as he felt every movement the other boy was making. Deeper, and more eliciting.
Reaching his hands down to grab Minho’s ass, the two bodies collided, both feeling the apparent strain in their pants. Having done this for enough times, Ben knew how Minho liked it – hard, and loud.
“Shuck… Ben…” Minho groaned out as Ben moved down from his mouth to kissing down his chiseled jawline, hands palming the very clear erection Minho was forming. Somewhere deep unto the maze, Ben and Minho’s clothed bodies slid together, sweat engulfing the both of them from running and the sudden heat the two found themselves in.
Lifting Minho’s shirt and exposing his chest, Ben lightly ghosted over his nipple with one hand, the other grabbing at Minho’s hard-on, rubbing it subtly in his palm. Moaning through clenched teeth with both hands pressed firmly on Ben’s head as he sucked lightly at his tan neck, Minho let out a gasp when the other boy swirled the tip of his tongue over the now erected bud. Lifting his head up, Ben pressed into Minho once again, the two bucking up into each other passionately, their lips connecting into another kiss, Minho’s back arching up against the ivy-covered wall harshly. He would never let another person take control like this: pinned down, helpless, submissive. But with Ben, it’s different.
“I want you…” Ben whispered out, breathing out in between each word from the intensity of each kiss.
“Tell me… ah… how…” Minho replied with a gulp, breathing as heavily as the other, his hand yanking roughly at Ben’s now sweaty, messy hair. Feeling the boy suddenly pull away, Minho exhaled at the loss of the heat and lust.
“Loud. As loud as you can. No one can hear us or see us. And I will make you scream. I want to hear you scream,” Ben said commandingly, his gaze piercing and flared, making the brunette’s stomach coil up from the rough tone in his voice. Minho loves to be loud, and Ben knew it way too well.
Laughing with a smirk, Ben pushed forward impatiently, sliding a hand up Minho’s messy shirt to tease at his nipple while the two’s mouths tangled all together again. The kisses were intoxicating and unforgiving. Wild. Like animals mating. They found their rhythms in their own dissonances, Minho grabbing the back of Ben’s head and urging him deeper into their kiss.
Startled as his eyes flew open, Minho let out a choking moan as he felt Ben’s other hand jerked down through his pants and underwear, grasping firmly at his own erection. Humming smugly in reply at the response he got, Ben glided his fingers skillfully over the head, drips of pre-cum serving as lubricant. Lubricant never seemed like a problem for the two: all they cared for was the harshness and fieriness in their sessions. Being Runners, they didn’t have much time to lose and, although being in the gigantic maze, there was always the risk of being run into – and indeed there were a few close calls; which was why they never cared for the whole package of taking each other’s clothes off and making sweet love against the green, lush tendrils. All they wanted was quickness, and temporary pleasure. And being the teenage boys with raging hormones with a constant need of release and outlets they were, quickness could almost definitely be fulfilled.
“Ben…” Minho gasped as he felt his pants dropping to the ground, allowing full access by the other. His head fell back as he felt the familiar tug at his erection by Ben, letting out a full moan and pant of pleasure.
“What did I say? Loud. Don’t hold back,” Ben removed his hand from Minho’s chest and grabbed his face, demanding the boy.
“Make me. Make me scream your name out. Let the others hear us— ah…” Minho moaned out again as Ben teased his slit in between pumps. With the other hand now returning to twisting and stimulating Minho’s nipple, Minho was in what he could only think as ecstasy. Ben knew how to turn him on, and he definitely was doing it right, as the rush of the all-too-familiar feeling started to build up.
“Shuck Ben I’m close… don’t stop Ben… make me cum all over your hand. I need it…” Minho’s hands were now grabbing erratically and firmly at Ben’s shoulders, squeezing hardly to indicate the end coming as he kept begging over and over. Ben flashed a smile back at Minho’s voice.
“Ben… Ben I’m gonna… ah shuck…” moans kept pouring out of Minho’s mouth, as he pushed himself hard against the wall, toes curling as the spasm shot through his body and reaching his groin all at one. Ben locked his gaze with Minho’s eyes as Minho thrashed about, his hold tight around Minho, only giving soft, small pumps to keep the Asian going as spurts came out, coating Ben’s hand. They never wanted to make a mess of things, and that’s why whenever they cum, the other would always make sure the head was held firm enough so it won’t… stain, so to speak.
“Ben… that felt so good… so good… oh yes…” Minho kept on going as his dick gave one final, slowed down pump and the last jet came out. Both huffing and panting, Ben kissed the boy again, each one chaste and quick from the aftermath of Minho’s high. He released Minho’s now slightly-softening dick, drips of cum dripping down the length as Ben raised his cum-filled hand away from the two, the other cupping the back of Minho’s jet-black, sweat-covered hair.
“That felt… so good…” Minho groaned out as he slumped lazily against the wall, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, while Ben walked over to the wall and cleaned his glistening, sticky hand on a spot that was covered in thicker ivy.
“Told you to not hold back,” Ben grinned, finishing off wiping his fingers. Minho guffawed at the told-you-so tone from the boy, picking his underwear up and using the fabric to rub off his own cum on his now flaccid dick. “I didn’t.”
“I know. You came a lot you know, how long haven’t you…” Ben began asking, now walking back to Minho as he got silenced by another long, deep kiss. The two let out soft sighs into each other, as Minho pulled away and gave his answer.
“Five shucking days.”
“How?” Ben frowned, almost bewildered.
“Because you didn’t get paired with me for that long, ya shank,” Minho joked in reply, buckling up his belt to his trousers and straightened his messy shirt and gears.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t do it yourself. Or maybe ask Newt to help you out next time—”
“Slim it,” Minho interjected, rolling his eyes. “You know how to do it best.”
“I know,” Ben grinned back, leaning forward and kissing Minho once more, his previously cum-covered hand now reaching up to grab onto the boy’s hair—
“Don’t you dare get your shuck hand in my hair,” Minho grumbled out, swatting away Ben’s hand reflexively.
“Also we got to go. Before the doors close and we get to spend a night with the good old shuck grievers. And before I feel like helping you out as well,” Minho said, his hand reaching down to give Ben’s apparent, not-died-down erection a squeeze.
“Not today,” Ben looked at Minho, their faces inches apart.
“But I swear, you’ll get to return the favor tomorrow.”
Day 6 : A character you headcanon as lesbian or gay
SONYA. SONYA AND HARRIET. LESBIAN QUEENS OF GROUP B.
I’m so glad I learned about this week in tmr fandom in time to make something ! I hope you appreciate my headcanons for their appearance. Will probably try to draw something else for tomorrow if I have the time :)
(Look here for the origination post, here for me talking about it, and here for the masterpost). Day 6 will be about a character you headcanon as Lesbian or Gay. As I’ve said, today will be a fanfic. Probably my favourite piece in the short week it has been.
Setting: pre-TMR (surprise, it’s Minewt)
Rating: not M
Trigger-warning: none needed
Long before Thomas was even in the picture, Newt felt something wrong. When gazing around the Glade he lived in for a while, things are seemingly off. He hated the way it felt, and even more so to the one that was behind all of this.
This piece is a bit special, for several reasons. First and foremost, obviously being a part of LGBTQ week, I really hope I could show a bit of care and love for those in the community. Gay Newt has always been an absolute headcanon for me (as for many), but I didn’t want to write about yet another fic about Newtmas fluff whatever (which I didn’t - cheers for a new ship on this blog). LGBTQ+ requires awareness because of the things they have to go through even till this day, and I just hope that (I have to spoil a bit of the story here) writing about how Newt’s process of coming to terms with his own sexuality will be my way of supporting everyone.
The name I’m currently using for this fic is a working title. Thing is I’m not sure will I keep on writing this (seeing I have far too many chapter-fics going on), or will I just have this as a snippet. Time will tell, but until then this will be a light snippet to me, even though the amount of words do make it kind of a fic. I hope you guys enjoy it, and I love you all.
It’s not disturbing him, just tingly and… unnerving. The warm, sappy feeling came familiar, yet distant at the same time. He believed the same emotion came to him long ago, perhaps in a past life; however it was so subtle, so nuanced and… pleasant, he couldn’t find it hostile.
To say he couldn’t identify it would be a lie. Despite his efforts of telling himself it’s a new feeling on the back of his mind, of triviality and merely a phase, he knows it is a notion that would sooner or later consume him – a disease that would spread to every single part of his body. And as far away and vague the word felt, Newt knew damn well it was scorched, engrained deeply somewhere within his soul, as the name reverberated through every last inch of him. Love. And to say he couldn’t admit it, would be more of a truth.
“Grievers been making you klunk your pants?” A voice snapped him out of his trance, forcing Newt to realize how long it’s been since he stood in the same spot, staring into nothingness. Minho reached him as Newt finally came to his consciousness, yet no words came to him.
Thankfully Minho decided to continue on. “Had enough rest shank? Gotta go plot down what you remember before that shuck brain of yours forgets everything.”
After yet another day of getting out of the maze futilely, Newt made up a lame excuse and said they should begin exploring different sections alone for a bit, which Minho raised an eyebrow to. Then at the doors, he told the Asian to go to the Map Room and start plotting without him by saying he needed some rest, not caring at all how convincing he actually was. Deep down, however, Newt knew he needed some time alone to figure out this pooling-up feeling that he didn’t want to admit. Wanted some open air to freshen himself up, hopefully it would wane – despite his efforts of shaking the thought off for days and weeks didn’t seem to have got him too far.
“Yea I’ll go in a bit,” Newt mumbled about, trying not to stir any more attention to himself from Minho, of all people. Thankfully, Ben making his return to the Glade right in time made a great distraction, as Minho seemed to have nodded and ran over to ask Ben did he get anything.
Not at this time, Newt thought to himself. We’ve been here for only nearly a year. We’ve practically achieved nothing and the Maze is still a mystery. Surely we are getting somewhere. Just… not now.
It seemed to have spurted out of nowhere. Not unwelcomed, just having taken Newt by surprise. Looking at the Glade’s openings with the sun now going down following the doors closing, Newt can’t help but think how small all emotions are compared to the burden of hope they the Runners are bearing to the rest of the Gladers. They are supposed to be the pioneers of… exploration and scraping up chances for a breakout, and there he is, being bothered by a stupid, unidentifiable feeling that he seemed to have merely pinpointed as… the word choked at his throat.
Love. He pushed through, snickering to himself darkly. The phrase now sounded like such a luxury to the tip of his tongue. No one can afford to ‘fall in love’ now, not him, not Alby, not… anyone. Survival comes first, that’s all there is to it.
Discipline, Newt. Discipline. You have that in you, get yourself some bloody self-discipline. No time to wallow in self-pity here with sappy love. No one else is here, absolutely buggin’ no one and yet you’re here getting all soaked up in…
Wait. Newt got so eaten up by the thought he suddenly thought of something. Once he tried stepping out and looking at the bigger scheme of things, he began thinking the reason it is only happening to him… maybe it wasn’t because how everyone was so dedicated to their jobs, to longing for sustaining themselves day-by-day… maybe it’s just… him having those feelings. Maybe… it’s just him. And he’s the only one. Out of everyone else. Not Gally, not Zart, obviously not Minho… but him.
Because no other Glader is feeling this bloody ‘love’ thing.
Almost instantly, Newt felt out of place. Looking back, it didn’t even feel normal to begin with, and for just a moment, he felt like hitting himself. Hitting himself to regain some focus over his mind – he is second-in-command for a reason, and him being the voice of logic is exactly it. And yet who is he to be in that position when he is letting all this sensibility reining over? And maybe, just maybe, hitting himself hard enough would knock that feeling out.
Feeling vacant all of a sudden, Newt felt like he was desperate for distraction, as he started setting foot for the Map Room. During the walk he seamlessly reconstructed the pathways he explored today, the turns he took, the marks he saw. Even though the problematic thoughts were eating him alive, he still took pride in being able to recall all of the details smoothly: that’s what being a Runner does to you.
Newt pushed open the door. And as bad the timing was, Ben and Minho were making for the exit. Hearing the creak Minho looked up, grinning as he saw Newt. “Coming back to your shuck senses?” He dropped, giving a few intentionally hard pats on the blonde’s back as he squeezed past the doorway with Ben following, as Newt stared blankly at the room with dusty shelves and hanging equipment. And there he was, being left with the brief, five-second encounter, the rest of his thoughts and lingering presence of the boy suffocating him.
Bloody shuckface like Minho. The statement that had been floating at the back of his mind finally broke through, as Newt was forced to admit the name of the person he fell for. Realizing he whispered out the words in a moment of deep thought, he threw a quick glance around to check no other Gladers were around to accidentally hear his almost-inaudible confession.
Standing at the Map Room doorway with balled fists and a tightened jaw, Newt shrugged the feeling off with a gulp.
~
Avoiding is not the way to go.
Newt knew. He knew that too well. And yet for some reason, it never felt enough to block out the torment that was brought with the name of love. At some point, he moaned to himself how unrequited love is actually the greatest curse to place on someone. And even though Newt tried to overwhelm himself with responsibilities and pushing himself further unto finding an exit, which resulted in a few close calls from making it out the maze, there was no place to suppress those feelings. At times in the darkest of nights when he was alone, feeling his groin harden at the thought of the boy, as the first firm tug would always have him hiss out from relieving the strain, to how when the last moans as he spilled out his heart’s desire were often undeniable, uncontrollable cries of ‘Minho’… it elicits a tang of regret, self-loathe even, that rolling over and burying his face into his pillow would not wash away. Guilt.
“Still want to try and be cool and visit the section by your own?” Minho commented one day, walking over to Newt who was, as always, standing in front of the doors awaiting for their opening at the earliest crack of dawn.
“We’re the most-experienced here, pairing you and I together are just ruining our chances.”
“Whoa whoa, just asking, your highness, sorry for bothering,” Minho answered defensively, backing away and leaving the boy alone.
Stop doing that. He doesn’t deserve that.
With that notion, Newt clenched his jaw, and plunged into the maze.
