#I’ve been writing other things lately without problem

[thepinkpanther83]

Hello again, I’ve come w a suggestion I was hoping you could possibly bring to life, if not though I understand! Idk if it would be a multi character fic or just one really long one so don’t feel obligated or anything!

Anyway, picture this: older Eddie, early to mid forties, he’s gruff but still lean and he’s the mechanic(if yo car fucked up don’t panic) and he’s been heartbroken so he just sleeps around and refuses to really let anyone in.

In comes you, new in town to take over some relatives business(maybe a bar or coffee shop). Late 20s, grungy and has quick wit. Eddie comes into your place of business and immediately catches your eye. You flirt and he does back, he leaves and one of the locals comes to you and gives the infamous “he isn’t looking for anything other than another notch on his bedpost” chat. So you think it’s just meaningless flirting, but he starts to come in more often and actively seeks your conversation/company.. que you having car problems and taking it into the mechanics and seeing him there. He asks for your number and you get to know each other.

Classic “he’ll change if he wants me” trope and of course, sarcasm, fluff and smut.

So, maybe something you’d be interested in? I really love your writing so I hope you aren’t uncomfortable w this request. Sending you love and positive energy!!

Grease And Honey (Pt.1 New Girl, Same Grind)

Chapter One: “New Girl, Same Grind”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

💌 Author’s Note:

To my cherished repeat Anony requester… you know who you are. 🫶🏻

Thank you, from the bottom of my coffee-fueled heart, for this incredible story prompt. You handed me a rough sketch of a grease-stained, emotionally unavailable Eddie Munson and a snarky tea-drinking café owner, and let me run wild with them. I don’t take it lightly that you trust me again and again to bring your ideas to life. This story wouldn’t exist without your spark of inspiration.

I hope “Grease and Honey” delivers on all the slow-burn tension, banter, heartache, and heat your heart desired, and then some. 💋

Love always,

~Pinkie 🍒

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Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

🎸🛠️☕🍯 Summary:

In the sleepy town of Hawkins, a freshly-inherited café and a busted-down car throw two unlikely souls into each other’s orbit.

He’s the town’s tattooed mechanic… gruff, flirtatious, and known for leaving hearts in his rearview. She’s the new girl with a sharp wit, a love of honeyed tea over coffee, and no intention of becoming anyone’s flavor of the week.

But some things can't be tuned out, not a shared spark, not stolen glances, and definitely not chemistry strong enough to break a lifelong habit of running from real connection.

Because sometimes, what starts as harmless flirting over coffee turns into something worth keeping.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: "Morning Regular"

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter One: “New Girl, Same Grind”

Hawkins Indiana, Summer 2006.

There was still a faint smell of cinnamon in the walls.

Even after months of dust settling, spiders claiming corners, and sunlight filtering through untouched blinds, the old place still smelled like your uncle’s favorite scone recipe. Sweet, spiced, and just a little burnt. Comforting in a “you’ll figure it out” kind of way.

You stood behind the scratched-up counter, sleeves rolled to your elbows, sticky with lemon cleaner and something older you’d rather not name. It was your third hour in the place officially opened, and already, your back ached and your hair was tied up with a pencil like some kind of over caffeinated librarian.

The old coffee shop: Grindhouse, sat squat on the corner of Main and Beech, its windows a little foggy from years of neglect but its bones still strong. Hip enough to attract the teens, comfy enough for the town’s aging poets and angry journalers. Black brick exterior, faded red awning. A flickering neon sign in the shape of a steaming mug hung above the door like a half-hearted welcome.

It was yours now.

Inherited, unexpectedly, after Uncle Jack’s heart finally gave out during a bar fight at The Hideout (which, you were told, he started and finished). You didn’t know Hawkins well. Hadn’t visited since you were a teenager. But something about the town’s stillness… the way time seemed to stretch just a little slower here… felt like the kind of restart you didn’t know you needed.

You flicked on the ancient espresso machine, affectionately nicknamed "The Beast" in your uncle’s handwriting on a taped label, and prayed it wouldn’t explode. Steam hissed, water sputtered, and you laughed when it groaned like a wounded animal.

“Same, buddy,” you muttered, tapping a tin of looseleaf chamomile.

Coffee was fine. Great, even, when done right. But you’d always been a tea girl. The kind who keeps jars of honey in a cabinet sorted by origin. Lavender from France. Orange blossom from California. Clover from some dusty roadside stand in Nebraska. The sweetness wasn’t just flavor… it was ritual. Pour, stir, sip, breathe.

And today, you needed the ritual.

You padded across the shop’s checkerboard tile floors, wiping down tabletops and thinking about paint swatches. You made a mental note to fix the warped floorboard near the window seat. The morning light was gorgeous there, perfect for reading, or brooding, or scowling at the world with a dirty chai.

You were halfway through reorganizing the old chalkboard menu, debating whether to bring back the “Bad Witch Latte” special, when the bell above the front door rang.

You straightened automatically, chalk still in hand, fingers dusted white. The early morning haze outside had finally begun to lift, casting a warm light through the front windows. It made the place look… almost alive again.

“Morning!” you called out, too chipper for how little sleep you’d gotten.

A trio of customers wandered in, two middle-aged women deep in conversation and a teen already glued to his phone. Locals, probably. You could tell by the way they didn’t even glance at the specials board or hesitate at the register.

“You’re the new girl, huh?” the taller of the women asked, giving you a once-over with a smile that was a little too tight around the eyes to be entirely kind. “Took over for Jack?”

You nodded. “That’s me.”

“Hmph,” the other woman muttered, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “Didn’t know he had family left. Thought you were some big city investor come to gut the place.”

“Nope. Just me. Grieving niece with a mild caffeine addiction and a dream.”

That earned a half-hearted chuckle. They placed their orders, skinny vanilla lattes, one with extra foam, and shuffled toward the corner booth like they owned it. Maybe they did. You were pretty sure the taller one had already started rearranging the throw pillows.

“Order in!” your barista called from behind the espresso machine.

Callie, hired two weeks ago off a hastily taped flyer you’d posted at the local library, was younger than you, twenty-two, and had the kind of sarcastic energy that made customers feel both entertained and a little nervous. Her hair was buzzed short on one side and dyed a green so electric it nearly matched the apron she insisted on customizing with iron-on patches.

She slid the lattes onto the counter with the flair of someone performing alchemy. “Gossip coven’s back,” she muttered under her breath. “They already asked if I’m your daughter.”

You barked a laugh and started prepping a cinnamon roll for the teen still scrolling through YouTube. “We’re like three years apart.”

“Exactly,” she grinned, and then added with mock reverence, “Mom.”

More customers trickled in after that. A guy in coveralls grabbed a black coffee and a ham croissant on his way to the hardware store. A pair of teenage girls with matching backpacks took twenty minutes to choose between the lavender matcha and the cherry cola cold brew. You fumbled with the register once, burned your finger on a hot tray twice, and forgot to apply a loyalty stamp to a regular’s punch card, he waved it off, but you could feel your pride bruising already.

The coffee shop had a heartbeat now. You could feel it, pulsing through the rhythm of orders and names called out, chairs scraping against the floor, that occasional, comforting hiss of the espresso machine. It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

Around noon, you finally caught a breath.

You were sipping a lukewarm cup of Earl Grey, honey swirled into a golden whirlpool at the bottom, when the door jingled again.

This time, the woman who walked in made your shoulders tense before you even saw her face.

Sixty-ish, sharply dressed, no hair out of place. Bright pink lipstick. Heels in a town that didn’t seem to require them. You clocked her immediately as the type who didn’t order so much as declare.

She made a slow circle around the shop, arms folded over a powder-blue cardigan, eyes scanning everything like she was conducting an inspection. She paused to lift a throw pillow, then turned it over like she might find contraband underneath.

“Can I help you?” you asked as warmly as you could manage.

Her gaze snapped to yours. “Just looking. I used to come in here all the time. Knew Jack. Shame about what happened.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “He was… something else.”

“I’m Lorraine Whitmore,” she offered, like it was a name with weight. “I run the florist shop across the street.”

Ah. That explained the faint smell of roses and the air of neighborhood dominance.

“Nice to meet you. I’m-”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she cut in, smiling without teeth. “Everyone does by now. You’re the niece. Took over the shop. Drinks tea with honey instead of coffee. Wants to paint the walls. Trying to do things ‘your way.’”

You blinked. “Wow. I guess small-town gossip really does move faster than FedEx.”

She chuckled primly, then lowered her voice like she was handing over classified intel. “Word of advice, dear. Don’t go getting too comfortable too fast.”

You arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“There are certain… rhythms in this town. People who’ve been here a long time. Things work better when you don’t try to change too much.”

Ah. There it was.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said coolly, gesturing toward the counter. “Can I get you anything?”

She waved a hand like she was above such things. “I’m off caffeine until the afternoon. But I’ll be back. Just wanted to see what the new girl looked like.”

And with that, she breezed out, leaving behind a trail of floral perfume and passive aggression.

Callie peeked out from the kitchen with a half-eaten brownie in her hand. “Was that the Lorraine?”

“Apparently,” you sighed.

“She once wrote a review in the Hawkins Post so scathing it got the pharmacy shut down for a week.”

“I believe it.”

The rest of the day unfolded in a haze of orders and overheard conversations. You started learning faces, catching names. You learned that Mr. Hathaway always wanted his muffin warmed but not too warm, and that Piper, the high school art kid with six nose rings, tipped in stickers and weed gummies instead of cash.

You learned that your uncle had a running tab with the local music store, and that Grindhouse used to do open mic nights. You made a note to maybe bring those back, when the time felt right.

There was a lull. Not quiet exactly, just the kind of brief, midday breath where the espresso machine could rest and the speakers played something low and moody from the ‘90s. You sipped your tea and leaned your hips against the counter, letting the steam fan over your face as Callie restocked muffins in the display case with the speed and intensity of a bomb tech.

Then the bell jingled.

You didn’t even have to look up.

Lorraine Whitmore had a heel-click. A little stomp in her step like she was leading a parade and everyone else was just lucky to be on the sidewalk. She marched right in with a massive patent leather tote, designer sunglasses (indoors, of course), and a notepad tucked under one arm like she was preparing to audit your soul.

“Good afternoon,” she said like it was a formal address to the nation. “I’ll have an oat milk cappuccino, extra dry, no foam, half a shot of espresso, two pumps sugar-free vanilla. And do you happen to have a gluten-free turkey sandwich on multigrain?”

You blinked. “We have turkey. We have multigrain. It… might have gluten.”

She pursed her lips like you’d just insulted her bloodline.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll survive. But no tomato. And could you cut it diagonally?”

You exchanged a look with Callie, who mouthed run and disappeared into the back, absolutely no help whatsoever.

You rang Lorraine up, prepared her beverage exactly as specified, while wondering what exactly makes a cappuccino “extra dry” and handed it off with the kind of tight-lipped smile reserved for tax season.

She didn’t leave.

Instead, she chose the seat farthest from the register and closest to the large window, facing out, so she could keep an eye on both the street and the shop. She set her bag beside her like a precious artifact and pulled out a legal pad. No laptop. Just pen and paper and the occasional squint over her glasses toward the counter.

You’d bet your last jar of lavender honey she hadn’t written anything on that pad in the last fifteen minutes, it was just an excuse to loiter and be nosy.

She was very nosy. And not even subtle about it. The kind of woman who heard footsteps and peeked through blinds. The kind who probably used the phrase “mark my words” in regular conversation.

You ignored her as best you could. Wiped down the already-clean counter. Rearranged the pastry display. Pretended not to notice her watching you like you were about to commit a crime against decorative shelving.

Then the bell rang again.

This time you did look up.

Boots first. Heavy ones, scuffed and grease-slicked around the soles. Then jeans, black, torn at the knee, and worn in the way that said earned, not bought that way. There was a slight hitch in his gait, barely noticeable unless you were looking, but you were. He had a slight half-limp, like an old injury had never quite stopped whispering to him.

Then rings, lots of them, flashing across long fingers as he pushed the door open. Tattoos curled around his knuckles and up his forearms, and disappeared under the sleeves of a black band tee so faded you couldn’t read the logo anymore. His flannel was open and rolled to the elbows. Oil stains on the hem. A chain on his belt hanging and connected to his jeans. Black sunglasses tucked into his collar.

His hair was a mess of warm brown curls pulled into a low bun at the base of his neck, with strands breaking free to frame his face in a way that shouldn’t have worked, but absolutely did. His jaw was sharp, shadowed in stubble, and his eyes scanned the place with casual disinterest, until they landed on you.

You didn’t smile.

You just watched him.

And he watched you back, slow and easy, one corner of his mouth pulling into a cocky half-smirk like he’d already decided something about you and wasn’t planning to share.

He approached the counter, dragging his fingers along it like he was checking the grain of the wood.

“You new?” he asked, voice low and rough, the kind of rasp that came from years of yelling over engines and bad music.

“That obvious?” you replied, deadpan.

He chuckled, short and smug. “Only people still trying are the new ones.”

You raised a brow. “Trying?”

He leaned in slightly, propping an elbow on the counter. “To clean. To make things pretty. To make the menu legible.” His eyes flicked toward the chalkboard you’d been reorganizing. “Locals don’t even read it anymore. They just order the same thing every day.”

“And what’s your usual?”

“Black coffee,” he said. “No sugar. No bullshit.”

Of course it was.

You moved to prep it without a word, already clocking the way his gaze lingered, not in a leering way, just… observant. Like he was cataloging something.

When you handed him the mug, he wrapped one hand around it like he hadn’t touched warmth all day.

“Thanks,” he said, then added with a cocked head, “You got a name, or should I keep calling you ‘New Girl’ in my head?”

You gave him your name, and he repeated it slowly, like he was trying it on for size.

“Eddie,” he said in return, with a grin that could’ve melted the wax off a bar candle. “Munson. Garage is a block down. If your car ever starts making a noise like a dying goose, that’s me.”

“Oh, I’ll call you right away, then,” you said dryly. “Love a man who knows his geese.”

He snorted into his coffee, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You got jokes. Not sure if that’s brave or reckless.”

You shrugged. “You got dirt under your nails and a hole in your jeans. Not sure if that’s charming or contagious.”

He laughed, loud and unbothered, and leaned back just slightly to size you up.

Lorraine very audibly turned a page on her untouched legal pad.

Neither of you looked at her.

But you both knew she was listening. Hard.

Eddie took a long sip of his coffee, still watching you over the rim of his mug like you were something interesting to study under good lighting.

Then he said, “So. What are you doing later?”

And just like that, your day got a hell of a lot more interesting.

You didn’t answer right away.

Not because you didn’t have one, but because you liked the way he looked when he thought he might’ve said too much.

“I’ve got plans later,” you said eventually, voice smooth and even. “But thanks for the offer.”

Eddie didn’t flinch. Didn’t pout or scoff or do anything dramatic. He just nodded slowly and leaned back a little, like he was reassessing, lips twitching at the corners.

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “What kind of plans? Hot date with a spreadsheet? Netflix and lemon-scented mop water?”

You tilted your head. “Dinner with a box of off-brand macaroni and a YouTube tutorial on unclogging industrial sink traps.”

He laughed again, like he couldn’t help it, and tapped the counter twice like you’d just scored a point.

“Okay, yeah, that’s hot,” he said. “Not gonna lie.”

“You sure you can handle that kind of commitment?” you teased. “I mean, things might get serious if I upgrade to elbow pasta.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I like things serious. When they’re fun.”

You hummed noncommittally, but your smile was giving you away. There was a flutter in your chest that hadn’t been there this morning, a kind of stupid hope, if you were honest. But you weren’t going to toss it all at him like confetti.

Still, you didn’t want him to leave thinking it meant nothing. Because it hadn’t meant nothing.

“Some other time, maybe,” you said casually, wiping a spot on the counter that didn’t need it.

Eddie caught it. You knew he did. That little hitch in your tone, the crack in the cool.

He grinned like he’d won something.

“Good,” he said. “Would’ve hated to leave here thinking you didn’t want me to ask again.”

You scoffed softly. “You don’t seem like the type who needs permission to do anything.”

He drained the rest of his coffee like it was holy water, then reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a beat-up leather wallet. He slid a business card across the counter with two fingers, oil-smudged on the edge, but still perfectly legible.

Munson Auto. “If it makes a noise, I can fix it.”

Scrawled in dark ink below the official shop number was a second number. He tapped it twice, then met your eyes again.

“That’s my personal one,” he said, low and deliberate, with a wink that should’ve been illegal before 5 p.m. “You know. In case your sink trap doesn’t call you back.”

You stared at the card a second longer than you meant to, then slipped it into your apron pocket without a word.

Eddie pushed off the counter with one palm, gave you a lazy salute with two fingers, and backed toward the door with that same slight limp and a grin that practically had its own ZIP code.

Then he was gone.

And before you could even breathe, there was a theatrical clearing of a throat from the far corner of the shop.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

“I see you’ve met Hawkins’ resident heartbreaker,” Lorraine said, standing from her table with her half-eaten sandwich in tow. “He comes in like that on purpose, you know. Dirty boots, tattoos, all that attitude, it’s a performance. And it works. Every time.”

You raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, waiting for the rest.

“He’s not the settling down type,” she went on, adjusting her tote strap and lifting her chin like she was about to drop life-altering wisdom. “Drives fast, talks faster. He’s charming until he gets what he wants, and then he disappears, just like his father. There’s a reason his little black book is more like a trilogy.”

You blinked at her. “Sounds like you know from experience.”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, dear. You seem smart. Would be a shame to see you dragged through the same story as the rest of them.”

With that, she grabbed her bag and her judgment and left, heels clicking all the way to the door.

You stood there a moment, letting the words hang in the air like smoke from a burnt espresso shot.

Then you rolled your eyes, pulled Eddie’s card from your pocket, and stared at it.

It didn’t feel like nothing.

But you weren’t about to let some nosy town watch captain ruin your afternoon.

So you tucked it away, deep in the little zip pouch behind the register, and got back to work.

Whatever this thing was? You’d figure it out later. For now, there was tea to steep. Coffee to brew. Music to change. And a damn good smirk to pretend you hadn’t been thinking about ever since it walked out the door without paying.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: "Morning Regular"

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000, @totallysocially

Masterlist

[crybaby-bkg]

been feeling v frustrated n a little scared recently bc I’ve genuinely had no desire whatsoever to write fics lately and. I’m not used to that. maybe it’s burnout?? I’ve experienced it with different things but never fic writing so it just feels really weird and oddly disappointing ☹️

[amaranthinespirit]

Hi! I couldn’t find anything on your pinned regarding if you take requests, so feel free to ignore this is you don’t.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed lately about the lack of love towards us mid-size girlies in fanfics in general. Its hard to feel wanted sometimes if you’re not thin enough or curvy enough. Would mind writing a fic with any member of the CoD 141 that just appreciates their mid-size girl? Thank you 💞

simon riley with midsize!reader (I'm so sorry this took so long, but I love this request)

simon riley loves a girl with a bit of weight on her. he'd never understand how you could be so insecure about how your body looked (if you were), especially when you just looked so perfect to him.

your body was a perfect balance in his eyes, plush thighs and tummy that he could bury his face in after he arrived home to you.

when you first asked him to leave the room so you could change, he just gave you a blank stare. he just loved to stare at you (he has a staring problem).

you just look so delectable, he could just eat you up (he does).

but aren't your thighs too big? no, better to crush his head when he's lapping at your sopping pussy.

but aren't you not curvy enough? who needs curves anyways? his eyes are glued to your ass or tits regardless

but your tummy isn't flat? who wants a flat stomach anyways? you have organs, lovie, and he'll gladly rearrange them.

but you're not thin enough? he doesn't care, it just means you're well taken care of, and that's all he wants. more to love, anyways darling.

he can still throw you around without breaking a sweat, toss you over his shoulder with a sharp slap to your ass.

he'll happily fuck you in front of the tall mirror in your bedroom, his chest pressed against your back as he hovers over you. his breath kissing your ear, his voice breathy and deep as he mumbles praises.

his hand is laced through your hair, forcing your eyes to the mirror, his other hand around your neck, fingers creeping up to hold your jaw. red marks and bruises forming all along your neck, trailing down your skin with no pattern. chest bitten and glistening from saliva around your perky buds.

he'd fuck you slow, every praise about your body, your appearance punctuated with a sharp thrust of his cock buried in your weeping pussy. the soft slap of his hips against your ass, your skin rippling from impact, reddening.

come on, lovie, you don't get to come until you're saying positive things. you want to come, don't you?

[lovelake]

WITHOUT A SHRED OF BAD (GOOD) INTENTIONS

Old habits die hard. He can’t seem to stop paying you nightly visits with rose-colored glasses.

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | MDNI, dead dove do not eat, non-con, stalking, drugging, dry-humping, breaking and entering, 700+ wc

note: drabble again ^_^ because i’ve been struggling to find the time and energy to write LMFAO sorry for the inactivity. if you don’t want to see this type of content, please use the filtering system to curate your experience </3 comments and reblogs are always appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Doting eyes and bruised knuckles caressed your moonlit face. Each and every detail was committed to memory so he could sketch it out later on.

You were his entire life: the heavenly scenery when he so much as blinked, the movie star in all his dreams at night, the muse behind his art, his will to live. 

He didn’t have bad intentions when he broke all the padlocks you kept buying, how else was he supposed to get in and carry out his purpose?

He was doing you a favor! He selflessly endured insomnia and (unbeknownst to you) gifted you his sleeping pills so you could get a good night’s rest. You deserved to be loved and pleasured, and was the only person who fit the bill for the job (according to an unreliable source, him).

At least, that’s how his sick mind tries to justify his actions.

It was a simple routine. He started with the most loving and tender action of them all—a forehead kiss. Soft and loving, the touch lingered like a balm while he slowly peeled your blanket off and nudged you towards your side.

Though he was impatient, he stayed away from your lips. You’d come around and love him back. Your first kiss with him would be of your own will. Ironic, considering how far he’s taking all these other unwarranted touches.

What would you taste like? Plain unscented chapstick? Cherry gloss? Cocoa butter vaseline? Bloody, from chapped and cracked lips? It doesn’t matter, he’s excited for the future.

“Are you cold?” Faux concern coated his whisper, he rubbed your goosebump-covered arm. “Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up.”

Nuzzling against the crook of your neck, he got his dose of his favorite aphrodisiac. Honestly, it was becoming a problem as of late. All you had to do was pass by him in the hallway and he’d get hard from your scent, his mind would take him back to moments like these. 

With an arm hooked around your stomach, he pulled you closer to him. His hand then wandered south, dipping underneath fabric to find its destination.

The crickets outside were overshadowed by the sound of his breathing gradually growing heavy with each flick of his hand. Sheets rustled. His hips—once pressed snugly against the back of yours—were chasing friction.

You needed this. Poor thing, you’ve probably been so stressed as of late. He’s seen you studying for hours on end at the library. He was here to relieve you, you’d wake up feeling refreshed tomorrow.

Between huffs, open-mouthed kisses were desperately littered across your neck, like you’d slip out of his arms if he stopped for even a minute.

He’d be the only person to touch you like this, he’d make sure of it. Nobody loved you as much as he did, he’d dispose of anyone who challenged that.

“Mm…” Biting his bottom lip didn’t work. Your neighbors must think you have a boyfriend at this point, his broken whimpers weren’t quiet by any means. 

If that’s the case, they probably pity you because he never lasts long. Alone, he could cum to the thought of you in just a minute or two. It’s not like he can help it! You’re on his mind all day long, of course any stimulation would set him off.

“Please,” it was unfair how good you made him feel, all you had to do was be in his presence, that’s all he needed for his stomach to start feeling hot.

He buried his face against your neck, hand coming back up to hold your hip for leverage. You’d feel the ache there later. He should feel gross (he didn’t), his pants were all sticky now, and he’d have to walk back home like this. 

Your heart was slow and steady from slumber in contrast to his as he traced shapes against your skin and whispered sweet words against the shell of your ear. That’s what good boyfriends do, right? Aftercare? He’s just getting some practice before that dream comes to fruition.

His smile was blinding in the dark. After a couple minutes, he reluctantly parted from you and tucked you in.

What would he go home with this time? Another piece of clothing from your laundry basket? One of the fragrances sitting atop your counter? He couldn’t get too greedy, he limited himself to one item per week.

You sent him to heaven and back. He deserved to see flames instead.

[paarksunghoon]

hello omg i love love LOVE deep honey, which is rare cus i usually do not touch fluff at all but smth abt the way u wrote got to me. i was wondering that in case u wanted an idea, u could write abt sunghoon rushing over to take care of his sick girlfriend? :3 just a thought or any headcannons u have on that would do fine but if u wanna turn it into a drabble or fic that's good too, especially if it's a continuation of deep honey

anyways, that is all from me, have a good day!!!

thank you so much :’) for all of my nsfw drabbles and content, I really enjoy writing the softer kind of stories. switched up the request just a little. consider this a token of my appreciation for your kindness. xx

ps this is what I’m imaging him wearing

***

If there’s one thing you know, it’s that nothing good could ever happen when you text someone past 2AM.

Both existential and physical dread consume you the second you open your texts and see a plethora of unread messages due to your current state of being. You’ve been bedridden for what feels like years but it’s only been a few of days. It’s technically Sunday morning and technically you should be fast asleep, especially since you’d taken medication to help you rest throughout the night. But seems like your body has other plans for you.

Tossing and turning won’t do either. Your head feels much better than it has for the past two days. You’d taken two days off or classes because of intense migraines paired with what seems like onset sickness due to it being flue season. Guilt over missing classes and groveling to your professors (even if they extended grace and told you to rest up) ate you alive, only ebbing away when you closed your eyes and slept.

Your roommate has been away because of a family event and what was once a promising weekend full of relaxation and the apartment to yourself is now a time for you to wallow in your misery. You’ve gone through countless tissues and have slept more in the past few days than in your entire life. It feels like your head might as well be cut off with how many problems your eyes, nose, and throat are giving you.

To pass the time, social media distracts you for a few minutes and you catch glimpses of what your friends have been up to. Partying. Studying. Eating at the cafeteria. All of these are mundane events you took for granted because you’d love to be anywhere but rotting away in your apartment. You’d rather studying for a midterm over feeling like you can’t move without losing your breath.

You take this time to catch up on texts as well. There are so many what remain unread by you and guilt crawls up your spine as you begin to reply to everything.

hi riki!! sorry I haven’t replied yet. I’ve been sick all weekend :/ I wish I could’ve gone to jake’s game with u bc it looked so fun ☹️

jungwon ur your cat is so cute omg…please send more vids. also sorry for replying late im sick lol

sunoo I swear to god if you watch another episode without me, I’m gonna beat your ass whenever I recover

yes, mom. I’m resting as much as I can! sorry I haven’t responded sooner. I still feel sick

heeseung do u think sunghoon would be weirded out if i text him right now. pls advise 😁

Heeseung immediately reads the message and the text bubble appears straight away. He’s one of your closest friends in university who always happens to be friends with Park Sunghoon, the guy you’ve been talking to for the past month and a half.

heeseung: Nah not weird. He’d probably like hearing from you

heeseung: He was asking about you earlier today and said you haven’t been talking to him as much

you: looking at my phone made me nauseous :/

heeseung: You should probably tell him that bc he’s been staring at his phone all day

you: soooo it wouldn’t be weird if I texted him out of the blue rn?? usually we don’t like…start conversations so late

heeseung: You’re overthinking. Just text him and if he doesn’t reply then he’s asleep and will text you in the morning

you: I’m scared of fucking it up

heeseung: There’s nothing to fuck up. If he gets mad that you took care of yourself (he won’t be) then he’s the one who fucked up

you: ugh when did u become the voice of reason

heeseung: :)

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard after you’ve opened Sunghoon’s text. You can imagine his slight pout when you think about how he’d react when he realizes you haven’t texted him back, which makes you feel even more guilty than you already are.

You’re not really sure how you started talking to him, let alone befriended Heeseung to the point where he started inviting you to hang out with him and his group of friends. Heeseung had originally been a study partner for a shared class back when the two of you were sophomores. It’s been a couple of years since then and now most of your conversations consist of TikTok jokes and Heeseung having to deal with you pining over one of his friends.

Sunghoon is every bit of cool you can imagine. He was so quiet when you first met him, residing in his oversized sweater since it was approaching the beginning of autumn. Heeseung invited you to a local bar on a Friday night after midterms and said your first drink would be on him if you made it before last call, knowing very well you were likely getting ready to slip underneath your blankets and call it a night.

He was right as always. You showed up wearing jeans and an old shirt with a jacket that was too big for your body. You’d made somewhat of an effort to look presentable since you’d be hanging out with his friends near campus and would rather not look like you’d gotten rolled over by a locomotive. It was there you met Sunghoon for the first time. He was so quiet that you barely heard him talk until an hour into hanging out with him, but that’s when you learned that he was someone you needed to get to know before he’d show you his loud, boisterous personality.

The more you hung out with him, the more you started to picture yourself with Sunghoon, away from the group you started to call your friends too. You’d only see him when Heeseung invited you out or if you bumped into someone else while Sunghoon was in tow with them. Neither of you seemed to cross paths otherwise and even then, Sunghoon was a bit too timid to approach you first and start a conversation.

Part of you wondered if you were ever too bold when you’d get drunk with him and your friends. You were loud, full of laughter and affection that none of your friends were surprised every time you shouted compliments across the tables and declared your love for the little group you considered to be your family away from home. Heeseung had gotten used to it pretty quickly and so did the others, albeit it took a while for their ears to stop glowing red every time you’d pull them into a drunken hug.

Maybe you sent a little too far with Sunghoon, who immediately tensed when your arms wrapped around his shoulders the first time you let your inhibitions down fully. A few beers and shots in, and Heeseung was anticipating your drunken rant about how much you love the little life the five of you had created and hoped that it would continue even after you all graduate.

Sunghoon always looked a bit intimidating with his dark, thick eyebrows and shielded his wandering eyes. He always looked like he knew what he wanted and his grace always made you think twice about what you’d say to him. Although, you knew this was the beginning of an onset crush that wouldn’t remain hidden for long, let alone when you weren’t sober.

So you’d thrown your arms around Sunghoon’s shoulder and told him how happy you were that Heeseung introduced the two of you. While you try not to think about that moment too much, you recall telling Sunghoon that he was slowly starting to become one of your favorite people because of how funny he is when people least expect it. You liked that he was so kind to his friends and that he was so confident in himself, and that you wished you could be a little more like him.

You also said he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. It was a sobering moment because he looked at you like you’d grown two heads and his shoulders felt like they might’ve been pushing you off of his body.

Stumbling with consistent apologies, none of your mutual friends seemed to notice what was happening behind them. You can picture the look on his face when your mind crosses to this moment, how he’d looked at you with bewilderment with his mouth ajar. Sunghoon didn’t say anything and you took that cue to leave him alone and head to the bar, where you hoped distance would make this night seem less tragic than it was.

When morning came around, you were the only person in your shared group chat who declined getting a late morning breakfast due to your embarrassment. Even during the next weekend, when Jake opened up his apartment for a casual hang out, you were the only person who didn’t show up, citing work and study stresses keeping you away from your friends.

Heeseung knew those were merely excuses.

“Cut the shit, Y/N. Are you okay? Did one of the guys do anything to make you uncomfortable?” The worst laced in his tone made you feel guilty for having him think the worse of people he knew before he met you.

“No, nothing like that. I think I’m the one who fucked up and made them uncomfortable.”

“Well clearly not since Jake invited you to his place. What’s going on? Do you want me to come over?”

The last thing you expected from Heeseung was to see him double over in laugher when you explained your predicament, clutching onto your bed like he’d fall to the ground if he didn’t. You’re sure that fit of laugher gave him a new set of abs.

“Sunghoon wasn’t weirded out. He texted me and asked if you were okay.” Heeseung pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you, leaving you in a cloud of confusion. “He probably likes you. Sunghoon’s a natural with girls even if he doesn’t realize they’re flirting with him. I think he likes you too because he’s acting really awkward because he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

That night left you with more question than answers. You considered texting Sunghoon and asking if the two of you could talk, but you didn’t want to make him even more uncomfortable and tell him what Heeseung told you in fear of putting your friend in an awkward position. So you let the discomfort settle and braved seeing him the next time one of your friends invited you out.

Which, to no one’s surprise, was the weekend after Jake’s get together. Seoul’s autumn carnival was in its third weekend by the time the five of you were able to find adequate time to ride every rollercoaster and eat until your stomachs caved in. You loved the fair and were the first person to buy an admission ticket. Poor Jay, who wasn’t the biggest fan of big rides in the first place, tagged along with Jake every time he insisted on it. You tried your best to keep some distance between yourself and Sunghoon, even if Heeseung said you were being ridiculous. You’d chosen to stick by him until Sunghoon volunteered to help you pick up the food trays when you lost a game of rock-paper-scissors.

“I’m sorry that I acted weird that night,” he said, cutting the silence as the two of you waited for your order. He didn’t have to explain. You knew what he was talking about. “Heeseung said you felt bad for making me feel uncomfortable but I need you to know you didn’t make me feel that way.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever said to you, let alone it being the first time he initiated a conversation with you. He watched as you stood with your eyes wide and mouth parted like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it.

“I think you just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say nice things about me. I didn’t realize we were that close because you’d been affectionate with everyone but me up until that night.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I was, uh, flustered.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He averted your gaze and looked at his shoes momentarily before he looked back at you. “I liked what you said. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

You laughed at the awkwardness dissipating. “I thought I crossed a line, or something. You just sat there and I thought I fucked up by touching you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. I…I liked it a lot.” You tried to hide a grin by keeping your bubbling excitement under wraps failed miserably. Sunghoon smiled too, offering to carry most of the trays back to the table where your friends were too hungry to talk for the next ten minutes.

The memory brings you back to the present where your thumbs hover the keyboard. You start to read back the conversation between the two of you and feel those butterflies erupt in your stomach for the umpteenth time. The two of you have talked about anything and everything. Nothing is off limits. So why is texting him to let him know you’ve been sick for the past few days so difficult for you?

you: hi

you: sorry I haven’t texted a lot in the past few days. I’ve been having migraines and now I’ve caught a cold ):

you: im sorry for texting so late too

He texts immediately.

sunghoon: You don’t have to be sorry. Are you feeling better now?

sunghoon: Actually don’t answer that

Your phone rings.

“Hey,” you say with your phone propped against your ear. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m the only who’s calling you when you’re sick, so I’m technically the one bothering you.” His laugh on the other line makes you smile a little too hard. “I was really worried. None of the guys heard from you so I figured you needed some space.”

“Unfortunately. I had to skip a few classes because it hurt to stand up. I’m pretty sure I’ve slept more this past week than I have in the last month.”

“I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

“I feel bad that I haven’t been able to talk to you.”

As if Sunghoon could sense you pouting, he clicks his tongue and reassures you. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’d probably do the same thing. I can’t imagine how much pain you’ve been in.”

“I would honestly rather study and take a million midterms than go through this again. I feel like someone just took their shoe off of my head.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Can I bring you anything? Medicine, maybe?”

You cough a little. “No, but thank you. My friend dropped off a lot of NyQuil and other stuff to help me. It’s working…kind of. Still feel like shit, though.”

“…Can I come over? To help you with your sickness, of course. I can bring you soup.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You frantically rise from your bed amidst his words and realize there are tissues on the ground and dirty clothes strewn everywhere because of your lack of energy. Your living room must be a mess, too, and this would also be the first time Sunghoon would see you without any makeup on.

“I want to. But I mean, only if you’re up for it. I don’t want to stress you out since you’re sick. I just want to help make you feel better. That…and I miss you.”

Sunghoon’s never been so direct before. Even though the two of you have been talking for a while, neither of you have been so forward about it. Conversations are always subtly flirty to the point where the effervescent feeling simmers just underneath the surface. The two of you have hung out without the rest of your friends and have been alone before, but neither one of you has gone so far as you be so bold about the other.

“I miss you too,” you whisper into the phone.

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll come with soup.”

He hangs up and with a newfound sense of urgency, you make your bed and throw away any stray trash. You put your dirty laundry in the hamper, which is piled high and untouched. It’ll be a problem for when you’re not sick.

The living room isn’t too bad. You straighten furniture and throw away empty takeout containers and wash a few utensils. The tasks don’t feel as draining as they did a few days ago and you’re starting to regain a little bit of your breath.

True to his word, Sunghoon arrives thirty minutes after he said he would. You open the door and look at him. He’s wearing blue hoodie and sweatpants with specs that make him look significantly more attractive than you’re used to.

“Hi,” Sunghoon says with a gentle smile. “I missed you.”

You bite your lip and blurt out your first thought. “You look really good in those glasses.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “Thank you. Can I come in?”

“Right, right.” You step aside and he follows you into your apartment. He takes his shoes off and places them neatly by the shoe rack.

“I might need to reheat this. I got it from that place near my apartment. You know, the one with the yellow banner?”

“I love that place.”

He smiles at you. “I know. Can I heat up some soup for you?”

When you nod, Sunghoon moves to the correct cabinet and pulls out everything he needs. It astounds you because he’s only ever been to your apartment twice before, both times with your other friends in tow. It dawns on you that it’s the first time the two of you are alone in your space. You’re touched that he remembers where your things are.

He beckons you to sit on the counter in front of the steaming bowl and the aroma of spices makes your mouth water. You haven’t been able to eat consistently in the past few days, surviving on bland foods like bread and crackers to sustain your health because anything else made you feel sicker than you were. The steam feels good against your skin and you dig in right away.

Sunghoon pulls your hair back when it gets close to the rim and holds it for you while you lap up the soup. It seems as though you’re hungrier than you thought because you sit there wordlessly, shoveling liquid into your mouth while Sunghoon watches.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I must look like a zoo animal.”

“You’re sick, Y/N. You have nothing to apologize for. The first meal you can stomach is the best one.” It’s like he gets you. Sunghoon continues to hold your hair back until you’re finished. He washes the bowl and spoon, and puts it back where they belong.

Sunghoon turns around and looks at you under the ambient lighting you and your roommate put up in lieu of the overhead lights. It feels like he’s inspecting you and you try really hard not to think about the fact that you don’t feel presentable in this moment.

“Your apartment feels very you,” Sunghoon says. “I like all of the green furniture and the art on the wall.”

“My roommate picked the decor out but I’m starting to understand why she loves art so much.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, looking at you. “Would you want to go to an art museum with me?”

“I’d really like that.”

Sunghoon pulls you by the hand to your couch and you try your best not to feel flustered with his touch. He sits you down on the cushion and immediately you feel like you need to be hyper vigilant because he’s looking around the apartment and you’re wondering if he can see the messes you see.

“Do you have a blanket? We could watch some TV. Or I could go. I don’t know.”

“Don’t go.” You say it too quickly but Sunghoon’s shoulders relax. “The blankets are beside the couch.”

He drapes it over you, leaving himself to fend for the cold. Although you’re sure he’s pretty warm, you open up the blanket and invite him to share it with you.

This is new territory. You two have just been talking. But Sunghoon isn’t deterred. He slots himself next to you and doesn’t shy away when he feels your arm pressed against him.

“Sorry for the mess. And for, well…” He watches you gesture to your face, which is undoubtedly red with dark circles underneath your eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. I still like you.”

You aren’t used to him being so upfront like this. He watches you with easy eyes, the kind of feeling that makes you believe what he says. Sunghoon is pretty reserved when it comes to these types of things and you often find yourself being the one to push him towards his bolder side. But even though you feel flustered by his words and underneath his stare, you like this newer side of him.

“I’m such a mess.”

Sunghoon watches you push your forehead into his shoulder in an attempt to hide yourself from him. He smiles at your antics and loves the feeling of your body on his. He’s been hesitant to do things like hold your hand or kiss your cheek in fear or overstepping a boundary. He doesn’t know what came over him when he held your hair back from falling into the hot soup. He knows very well that he could’ve asked where you kept your hair ties, but helping you when he knows you need it felt like the right thing to do.

Now, he wonders if you’re growing bolder with him too. You let your forehead rest against his hoodie as you take deep breaths. He hears you sniffle a few times and nearly coos at the mere thought of you suffering from your sickness. When you pull yourself away from him, the tip of your nose is slightly runny and your eyes look a bit more red than usual.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

He bites his lip. “You could look worse.” You try not to let your cheeks rise in heat.

“You’re just being nice.”

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head. He could never lie about how he feels towards you. “Nope. You still look really cute.” He watches the gears work inside your head and locates the TV remote when you don’t say anything. “What do you want to watch?”

“I dunno.”

“C’mon, you must’ve been watching TV while you were cooped up here.”

You shake your head. “Migraine, remember? Felt like my eyes were gonna burst.”

This time, he coos out loud. Sunghoon puts on a show you’ve mentioned enjoying in the past and hopes he chose correctly. You seem to be mellowing out and paying attention to the screen in front of you until you start breathing heavily. It’s not until he hears you try to silence a small coughing fit that he shoots up from his seat and pours you a glass of water.

“Here.” Sunghoon doesn’t let you hold the glass. Instead, he beckons your mouth open by placing the rim between your lips and lets you swallow the water, tilting it up until you’ve consumed all of it. He wipes the excess water from the corners of your mouth with his thumb and looks down at you with concern. “Do you have any tea? I can make you some. Hopefully that’ll soothe your throat.”

“Stupid medicine isn’t working,” you grumble. “I might as well perish.”

“Tea, baby,” Sunghoon says, the pet name rolling off his tongue with ease. You almost don’t notice it. “Where do you keep your tea and honey?”

“Cabinet beside the fridge.”

Sunghoon comes back a few minutes later with piping hot chamomile tea with honey. You don’t know how he does it, anticipating your every need and putting just enough honey where it doesn’t feel like you’re stuffing your throat with the sweet nectar. You sip on it slowly as he situates himself back underneath the blanket and keeps his eyes on the television while you try to calm your erratic heartbeat.

Eventually, the episode finished and it’s almost four in the morning when you start to get sleepy. Sunghoon hears you yawning beside him and does his best not to grin like a lovesick idiot when you push your body against his in an attempt to get comfortable. You’re holding the empty cup loosely in your hands when your eyes start to droop and as much as Sunghoon would love to stay like this, he knows it’ll be better for you to sleep in your own bed with your back against the mattress.

“Baby,” Sunghoon whispers. He grabs the mug from your hands and sets it on the coffee table. “I think you should sleep in your bed. You’ll feel a lot better when you wake up.”

“But you’re so warm.”

He bites back a smile. “Thank you, but you’re gonna wake up with back pain and I know you’ll be mad that you didn’t sleep with pillows.”

He’s right and you know it but that doesn’t stop you from letting a whine slip past. Sunghoon doesn’t complain when you lean on him for support (or rather, you push your full weight onto him because you cannot be bothered with physical tasks at this late hour). Instead, he holds your waist with his arm and guides you into your bedroom from his memory of coming here a couple times before now.

Despite this, he’s never been inside your room. You’ve always kept the door closed but as he opens it, Sunghoon completely melts at how your bedroom is so utterly you. The dark green comforter hugs your queen-sized bed and a mountain of pillows cover the top near the bed frame. Your desk is an organized mess of notebooks, pens, and highlighters you carry with you during study sessions. Photographs in pretty frames decorate your walls along with posters of your favorite music and films.

He spots a picture of the two of you from that day at the amusement park when Heeseung insisted on taking a photo since the lighting was “perfect.” Sunghoon suspected that wasn’t the case but let him take it anyhow. He always considered that to be his first official memory with you. Knowing you might feel the same makes Sunghoon’s heart flutter.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?”

His soft touches make you fall much deeper into your tiredness. The mattress below you feels too good to be true as Sunghoon opens the blankets for you to crawl underneath. He watches you carefully as you scoot to one side and make yourself comfortable, wondering if you’re enjoying the side of him that wants to pamper you.

When you’re all tucked in with the blankets underneath your chin, Sunghoon can’t help but lean down and brush a few stray hair strands from your face. He caresses your cheek and holds himself back despite your lips being right in front of him. Instead, he settles for rubbing your soft cheek with his thumb before leaving.

Except, you reach out and grab onto his wrist. “Where are you going?”

His looks back at you in the dim light. “Home, baby. I’ll let you sleep.”

The pout you’re wearing is tearing him limb from limb. “I don’t want you to go home.”

“No?”

You shake your head. “Please…I haven’t seen you at all this week.” Sunghoon hears the strain in your voice and he isn’t sure if you’re awake enough to know what you’re saying. “I-I just want you here with me.”

How could he say no to that?

Sunghoon sits on the empty side of the bed and lets you guide your hand in his bigger one. He watches as you shake your head and he’s about to ask what you mean when you open the blanket.

He feels momentarily guilty when he pulls his hand away from you because he hears you whine again, but he slips off his hoodie to avoid overheating. He’s left in his sweatpants and a loose shirt when sliding into your bed right next to you.

You waste no time and attach yourself to Sunghoon, pushing your body until you’re resting on his chest. He does his best not to let his heartbeat give him away. This is the most he’s ever touched you. At best, he’d brush his hand against yours and waited for the right time to hold it. Today feels like he’s thrown caution into the wind.

Sunghoon puts his glasses on your night table and pulls you close to him, encircling his arms until he finds a comfortable position. Your warm breaths litter his skin and he feels like he could run laps with how happy he is in this moment. You look so cute with your body limp against his. He loves that you’re not hesitant around him anymore and hopes you know just how much he wants you close to him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunghoon says in the dark, unsure if you’re still awake or not.

“What’s your secret?”

Your eyes remain closed, eyelashes covering your beautiful eyes and your cheeks are squished into a pout against his chest. He looks down at you like you’re precious cargo and a rare gem he never wants to let go of.

“I really want to kiss you.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, Sunghoon feels you move your head until you press a kiss against his chest, allowing your lips to linger for a few seconds before reverting back to your original position.

“Kiss me tomorrow.”

Sunghoon hears you snoring soon after.

“Yeah,” he whispers to himself. “I can do that.”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[donat-senpai]

Can you please write a platonic Yandere Adrien with (best) friend reader. Reader also has a miraculous, Adrien finds out. Kinda like a scenario

Please don't read this if you are uncomfortable with the yandere!

Pairing: Yandere! Adrien x Reader

tw: platonic obsession, stealing other people's things

Adrian sighs heavily. Lately, too many problems have been piling up on him. He didn't get a moment's peace at school. His father was constantly demanding something. And Hawk Moth seemed to never sleep. He added work for the heroes at the most inconvenient times. During a recent attack on the city, another person joined the famous hero duo. A little later, Adrian (or Chat Noir, to be precise) learned that Ladybug had nothing to do with it. This made him worry. Who is this person? Can they be trusted? And where did another Miraculous come from that doesn't belong to the guardian of the box? Too many questions filled the blond's head.

———

You greet Adrien with a joyful hug. The boy finally relaxes and forgets all his worries. In your presence, he feels calm. You excitedly start telling him about a new game and make him promise to play it with you this weekend. Adrien looks around the classroom. Every classmate is busy with their own thing. Once (when he had just started going to school) they used to tease you with jokes about being long-lost sibling. You two had just become friends too quickly and easily. Adrien sometimes joked himself that you were actually an Agreste. A bright glint distracts Adrien from his memories, and he notices a new pendant on your chest.

"What’s that?" Adrien asks.

You don't immediately understand what he's talking about. But when you catch his gaze, you start to stammer.

"Oh… Umm… just a piece of jewelry," you answer awkwardly.

"I’ve never seen you wear it before."

"I found it recently in a shop. Just some junk. Doesn't matter," you laugh nervously and change the subject.

Adrien raises an eyebrow in surprise. You've never behaved like this before. So… strange. It's like you're hiding something.

———

The villain throws Chat Noir into some trash cans and moves further into the city center, leading Ladybug away. Cat Noir groans in pain and tries to stand up, not very gracefully. A new hero lands softly next to him and extends a hand.

"I thought cats always land on their feet."

"Ha. Very funny," Chat Noir grumbles, but accepts the help. Chat Noir's gaze stops at the new hero's Miraculous. It's a pendant. The jewelry reminds him of something, but he can't remember what exactly.

"Let's deal with this quickly. I still need to make it to the book fair," the hero heads towards the noise, not waiting for his partner.

Chat Noir freezes. There’s only one fair in the city today. And Adrien was already planning to go there with you. A strange feeling washes over him. Now that he knows the new hero will be there too, he’s not so sure if he should go. Although there will be hundreds of people. The chance of revealing someone's identity is practically zero. Even if he accidentally starts scanning the crowd.

———

Ladybug was delayed. The heroes found themselves in a disadvantageous position. They barely escaped. Chat Noir was in a panic. He admitted that he hadn’t come up with the best plan. But the idea was reliable if they wanted to throw the villain’s minions off their trail. The minions ability will not allow them to find specific heroes if the heroes exchange Miraculouses and become new heroes. They needed to buy time until Ladybug showed up. That was what Adrien thought as he handed his ring to his partner behind the door.

He shuddered at the thought that if they wanted to betray him and reveal their connection to Hawk Moth, now would be the perfect moment. But they obediently handed him their pendant. Adrien almost thanked them but restrained himself. It was best not to talk too much without the magic of the Miraculouses. After all, Adrien was a famous model and it wasn’t hard to recognize his voice.

He finally looked at the other’s Miraculous and felt a shock. In his fingers lay a very familiar object. He couldn’t help but recognize your pendant. He had looked at it too often since he first noticed it. You were the new hero. Adrien panicked, wondering if you would recognize his ring. You rarely paid close attention to his hands. The hero (it can’t be… it’s you!) knocked on the door and asked him to hurry. Adrien decided to put his inner turmoil aside. The city needed saving right now.

———

The next day, Adrien watches you more closely than ever. You act as usual, which leads him to think that you haven't figured out Chat Noir's identity. A whirlwind of emotions overwhelms him. He's angry that you haven't told him anything. He understands you because he kept his secret the same way. And he's scared. What if one day you can't handle a villain? What if Hawk Moth finds out too? What if all of Paris learns your identity? Adrien starts to have a small panic attack. Nino jumps up and tries to help. Adrien is gasping for breath and can't explain anything.

-------

Adrien sneaks into the empty locker room while you and the class are swimming in the pool. It's one of the rare moments when you take off your pendant. It turns out that not all Miraculouses are as convenient as his ring or Ladybug's earrings. He never thought about how lucky he was before. He quickly finds your locker and breaks into it. The lock is so flimsy that Adrien feels a bit ashamed of how easily he was able to open it. He grabs the pendant and goes to hide it in his bag.

Adrien mentally prepares himself to comfort you. If he lost his Miraculous, he would be horrified. He thinks about what words he could say to console you. Adrien wonders if you would tell him your secret if you had nothing left to lose. He wants this. This will prove your trust in him.

Adrien thinks about what to do with your Miraculous now. He would like to use it sometimes along with his ring. But that would completely ruin your opinion of Chat Noir. Maybe he should bury the Miraculous in the forest or throw it into the sea so that no one could find it.

Now, you don't have to worry about the villains. And Adrien doesn't have to worry about your safety. Protecting Paris is no longer your job. Ladybug and Chat Noir will handle it together.

[nixwriteschaos]

hi!!!! could you make a Bakugou x male reader where they have a BAD argument, and their relationship is already in a bad way (they are already adults), the reader leaves the house to calm down and then when he comes back Bakugou is afraid that they will get divorced and they talk about it? (with a cute ending please🩷🩷🩷).

We Need to Have a Talk

Katsuki Bakugou x Male!Reader Summary: Knowing Katsuki Bakugou, it would make sense if he and his beloved fight all the time, right? Well, the reader had enough of his temper and so he decided to go and stay the night somewhere else. It should’ve been no problem, right? Just a very short break for the two of them… or so the reader thought.

★☽A/N: Lately I’ve been so unmotivated to write!! I’m guessing it’s because I’ve been so busy with school work that I completely forgot! Final exams are coming soon so I’ve been super paranoid over it so I’m just hoping for the best, really! I also tried a different style than usual so… yeah! Anyways– Enjoy!! <33

Contents: Fluff, angst

⭒☆━━━━━☕️

After high school, both Katsuki and Y/N decided to move in together. After all, they’ve been dating since second year of high school so it’s almost required to start having trust in each other and move in together.

And after two years of staying together, they got married! Everyone was happy and had such a good time at Katsuki and Y/N’s wedding.

After that, everything was balanced– quality time– work time– everything! Everything was smooth sailing. Y/N even helped Katsuki with getting the funds for Izuku’s very own mech suit so that he can become a hero again.

Of course– it made him a bit jealous that Katsuki was a bit too… focused on getting the mech suit. Everytime Y/N inquired about it, Katsuki always responded with, “What? Can’t I have my rival back?” with his ever so annoying tone.

It boiled Y/N’s blood so much– but he knew better than to cause a scene just because of his thoughts and insecurity. He did try to voice his opinions– he truly did– but it only ended up in a heated fight and Y/N on the couch for more than a night.

Katsuki’s temper only started to get worse when he found out he was 15th in the rankings. He knew that he wouldn’t have the motivation without Izuku around to compete against.. but it still pissed him off that his ranking was so low.

Hell– Monoma was higher in the ranks than he was!!

And Y/N did try to talk to Katsuki about it. He told him that everything was going to be okay, that he needs to be patient and try to get the funds for Izuku’s suit efficiently– not messy and fast. But by doing so, he only got a slap on the face and a pillow and blanket to sleep on the couch with.

And after a while, Y/N and Katsuki started to have more and more fights over several things– both complicated and simple things. It was getting ridiculous but none of them dared to utter a word. And when their friends found out about their constant conflict– they too didn’t dare intervene.

Eventually, Y/N’s patience was running thin as their arguments became more frequent. Their relationship started to strain and Y/N had enough of it. When Katsuki finally saved up the funds for Izuku’s mech suit, he thought that was the end of their arguments.

But he was unfortunately wrong.

With Izuku joining the Pro Hero profession once again, Katsuki became obsessed with rivalling against Izuku once again, eventually reaching 5th in the Hero Rankings which Y/N was extremely proud of.

Instead of celebrating it with Y/N just like he planned, Katsuki decided to be “forcefully dragged” to a celebration that was hosted by Izuku and their other classmates. Y/N was invited, of course, but Y/N declined because he wasn’t close to any of them except Hitoshi and he was in class B and not class A.

Y/N did suggest an afterparty with wine and snacks while watching Netflix to Katsuki but he only ignored Y/N. He didn’t know why but his ignorance caused his heart to crack a little. He thought Katsuki was done with his rivalry obsession with Izuku but it seems like he was wrong..

Y/N, also known as H/N, also had a massive achievement. Like Katsuki, he rose up in the ranks and became the number three hero and basically pushed Mt. Lady away from her previous rank.

And so, the Pro Hero H/N sat in his living room drinking bottles of wine alone. His husband? Didn’t dare care about anything about him. 

He just sat there, looking up at his ceiling as his brain scrambled due to alcohol. At this point, he became numb. The hero didn’t know if this was only an overreaction or this was truly something he should react over at. The alcohol only scrambled his brain further, irrational thoughts started to run through his head.

☕️

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N turned around to find Katsuki at the door, sweating. Did he run back home? Katsuki walked over and saw the assortment of wine on the coffee table and Y/N could feel the anger radiating off Katsuki. “What is this?” he asked but got no response from Y/N.

He asked again, “What the fuck is this?” with a harsher tone. No response.

He grabbed Y/N’s hand to make him turn around. Katsuki was shocked to see blood-shot eyes and tear stains on his cheeks. Y/N looked like he had been crying for hours. “Why the fuck are you crying?” Katsuki’s harsh tone disguised his worry.

Y/N rolled his eyes, pulling his hand back. “Fuck off Katsuki.. Go suck on Midoriya’s dick.” Katsuki was surprised to hear such a statement from Y/N. He knew Y/N curses but never had he said something like that. “What the fuck you mean? You think I have it for Deku?!” Katsuki’s irritation grew when Y/N responded with a sigh. “You’re obsessed with him, Bakugou.”

Ouch… hearing Y/N calling Katsuki by his last name only ached his heart. “You’re drunk.” Y/N gasped, feigning shock. “Really? I never knew!” he sarcastically said. Katsuki growled, pulling Y/N close. “Don’t be a fucking brat.” Y/N slapped his hand away from his, growling as well.

“You constantly talk about Izuku. I thought you would stop your obsession with him after getting him the mech suit.. But I was wrong. You are still obsessed with him.” Y/N’s words hit Katsuki like a meteor. “I’m not- Look-” Katsuki’s words stuttered as he tried to make an excuse for his actions.

“I’m out of here..” Katsuki stood frozen and confused at Y/N who stood up and wobbled to their bedroom. He stayed that way and only snapped out of it when he heard the keys jingle. His eyes darted across the room and finally moved to grab Y/N by the wrist. “Where are you going?” Katsuki asked– no– demanded. Instead of an answer, he was knocked to the ground by a drunken Y/N. “We need a break.”

BAM! The door was slammed shut and left Katsuki on the ground, his eyes brimming with tears. He started to yell out curses, gripping his hair tight as he yelled. “Shit- shit- shit!!”

☕️

Only a week went by and Katsuki was a mess. Social media started to theorize his sudden worsen temper. Not only was the great Dynamight distracted, the media started to notice H/N’s bad mood lately.

Was it a quarrel? The media started to speculate, causing a trend to go viral. “IS DYNAMIGHT AND H/N FIGHTING? WHAT FOR?” is the main question. It was all people were talking about.

And Y/N was constantly asked by his friends what happened between the two but he didn’t want to answer. He was still pissed at Katsuki for prioritizing his rivalry with Deku over their marriage. The hero realized that his husband had never placed their marriage before his damn “competition” with his childhood friend.

And when he came back after 2 weeks after finally calming down, he found himself in front of his living room being a complete mess.

☕️

“What the fuck..?” I took a look around my living room, scanning over the complete messy state it was in. I was dumbfounded at the sight. Pillows were on the floor, the TV was playing some Korean drama show, and there was this– awful smell!! I walked closer to the couch where I found the coffee table filled with takeout meals, sodas, coffee, tea, ice cream, and all sorts of snacks!

How could the room get this bad?!

And on the couch was my husband who passed out asleep. He looked like a mess, with his unruly hair messier than the last I saw of him and eye bags darker than the night sky. I couldn’t bring myself to blame him anymore… just seeing him in this state showed that he truly felt sorry for his actions– his addiction with his rivalry.

But that was only speculation.

I shook him awake, watching him jolt awake. His eyes scattered the room before they landed on my figure. His reaction was a sight I never would have imagined. His eyes slowly wobbled in the thin layer of salty water before they fell from his eyes, wetting his clothes. Katsuki tried to say something but only hiccups escaped his mouth. He reached out to me, begging for me to hold him. His actions made him look childish.

“I- I’m sorry! I’ll stop hanging out with Izuku- Just please- I’ll do anything! I- I love you- I love you so much- So please don’t divorce me-” He rambled, grabbing my hand tight and looking at me with pleading eyes. I was surprised at his outburst. Divorce? Was this guilty to the point he thought I would divorce him?

I hugged him tight. “I would never,” I whispered. Katsuki’s sobs grew louder, hugging me tighter than ever. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.. Alright? Fuck.. and- and I’ll stop, okay?” Katsuki rambled, looking at me with honest eyes. I chuckled softly. “I was jealous, Katsuki. I’m very happy you feel like this because I really love you.. I want you to understand that I fucking love you… yes, we fight but who doesn’t? We always talk it out, right? And we are doing just that.” The smile on my face made Katsuki smile as well, wiping his tears and hugging me again.

“I love you,” Katsuki whispered and I whispered back, “I love you more.”

☕️━━━━━☆⭒

[cosmicalily]

'bending to your heart' ot8 skz headcanons by @cosmicalily | skz as segments from my poetry

"a souvenir i gave to everyone i love, the walls of my heart are like museum corridors, the love that i gave you was art in my form" - 'marble arch' by erin lecount

author's note: my poetry is something i've been curating and writing for a long time, primarily as an emotional outlet and a secondary artform. these are segments from pieces in one of my collections titled 'asap* (*as softly as possible)' which i'm hoping to publish at some point in the near future as a physical book! ALSO TUMBLR IS FUCKING WITH THE FORMATTING AND MAKING SOME LETTERS BIGGER AND IM GONNA CRASH OUT AND CRY warnings: angst (discussions of mental health issues, primarily anxiety and depression)

chris as . . . 'medicine'

Even though they weren’t my problems, You became my problem, my scar to heal. Your prescription has ended, my love. You’ve been hurting me without noticing, Without meaning to. I’ve grown scared of you. I will miss you, although you may not miss me. But I look forward to relief.

minho as . . . 'tsuki (my moon)'

I can’t ever touch the moon With bare fingertips, But it’s always there, watching me. When the sun sets, I search for you. At night, I feel more fragile, More anxious, But your presence comforts me, From a huge distance away.

changbin as . . . 'bear'

Please don’t put on your armour, Tense your fists, Walk away. You’re still so soft, So loving. Do not let the people And things that hurt you Turn you into someone Who hurts others.

hyunjin as . . . 'starfish'

Oh, my love, You’re the brightest clementine on my tree. A little further back than the rest, But I’ll drag over a chair, Climb a branch, Dig through the velvety leaves just to find you. My starfish, You carry so much peace. As I sit by your side briefly, my head on your shoulder, I remind myself how much I treasure you.

jisung as . . . 'to float with my stars'

For whilst a night sky is beautiful, You can never count all the stars and You can never be certain of The multitudes it contains, Of what it has experienced, Of what colours it may explode into, When least provoked and When least wanted.

felix as . . . 'a thousand paper bows'

Delicate, yet so strong when knotted tight. Known for its flexibility, but not its permanence. Unlike ribbon, paper can tear. Paper does not fray the way a straight-cut ribbon does; But tiny rips can build, And a small tug or twist can undo everything. These tears cannot be fixed invisibly; A piece of clear tape is subtle, but still noticeable. Glue will dry with a residue; or dampen the paper.

seungmin as . . . 'the bus stop'

Subconsciously, I still wait for you, Even though you have long passed. I left the house too late, Spent too long tying my shoelaces, But you also came too early, And didn’t slow down when I ran, Chasing you. I’ll sit here for a while, Maybe pause every time I pass this bus stop, Just in case you come past again, Just in case this time is right.

jeongin as . . . 'chuu (kiss my cheek)'

But thank you for building my house, For decorating my home. For creating the blueprint that I added to, Allowing me to make this space my own. Thank you for the shelves to store my trinkets, For the cherry trees in my garden, For the hugs you give me in the kitchen, When the day hasn’t been as kind to me The way you always are.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @heartsbyani @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff @starsinagreenskyxx @ashtxrie @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts @zelinkcrossing @urlocalmultigroupfan @shuuporanglinos @lezleeferguson-120 @r1nstaaa @bibibahngg @jessxxxfwd @koiiqqqq - comment, dm or send an ask to be added :)

[soov]

IF YOU ARE AN ENHABLR WRITER, PLEASE READ THIS.

tw : very brief mentions of pedophilia, grooming, homophobia and sexual harassment.

hi! i’m rei and i’ve been writing for enhypen since 2022 (this is my second account revamp), but i’ve been lurking around enhablr since 2021. i’ve noticed some misguided words, especially from new enhypen writers due to recent events, and decided to make this post, so please make sure to read thoroughly.

first of all, i want to painfully break it to the ones who started their accounts in 2024, who thought that enhablr was a safe space, and tell you that it is not one. it has NEVER been one.

now, i’m not saying that to make you disappointed and want to quit, but simply to tell you the truth behind it all. i think there was an illusion created around this community, behind the pretty themes and fluff works, that blinded the people who weren’t actively a part of enhablr, and had just joined us.

in 2021 we had blatant pedophilia with the 02z, brief moments after they debuted, when they were just 18. the community was still a bit messy since enha was a rookie group and fresh out of i-land.

in late 2021, and especially 2022, we began seeing enhablr take some form, but with it, we got a terrible like to reblog ratio and some plagiarism. late 2022 had more pedophilia again, now with sunoo, who had just turned 19, and had adults posting nsfw works for him on the day of his birthday. plagiarism began getting strength and many writers had both their works and banners / layouts copied.

in 2023, during the very start of the year, we had more pedophilia cases. this time, with writers. a grown man with an account named mintchocolatesunoox verbally harassed many minors with sexual asks and threats. we also had a 30yo writer named luna interacting constantly with minors and treating them in a way that crossed boundaries.

we had cases of homophobia with writers avoiding and blocking other lgbtqiap+ writers and reasoning it with their religion. not only that, but we also had another adult jumping into conclusions when a minor blocked them for being uncomfortable, saying the hate anons she was getting were from the minor, when it wasn’t. plagiarism got even worse at this time.

there were also more grown adults writing smut for jungwon when he turned 19, and at the end of the year, their target was ni-ki when the korean law changed the legal age from 19 to 18 years.

this year we had islamophobia, people refusing to acknowledge and share about the ongoing massacres and genocides around the world, more plagiarism, writers using AI to write their works with no shame, and minors consuming smut.

these are only some of the countless problems surrounding enhablr, not including the intern problems that weren’t outed.

many of these situations got worse as the conflicts began leaving tumblr and started going to other apps and group chats. i’m not saying the issue is on making friends and keeping contact outside tumblr (because i even encouraged it creating servers and such). the biggest problem is how so many people aren’t holding their friends and the ones who do these types of things accountable.

it’s not about doing it and apologizing, it’s about apologizing, changing, and holding yourself and others accountable. the memory of some people seems like one of a goldfish, completely ignoring the behavior of those who didn’t even apologize, and moving on.

enhablr was never safe, because we, writers, didn’t make it safe. the ones without morals are finding space to act like this because we are giving them space. if we do want to keep these people at bay and make enhablr a truly nice community we have to start really calling out and educating the ones who are doing and saying horrible things.

start by doing it privately, trying to educate them. if it doesn't work, call them out, no matter who they are. don’t condone their wrong actions and hold them accountable if they don’t post a pronouncement or change their behavior.

don’t let things slide and don’t think mutuals or friends shouldn’t be educated too. we are all still human and commit mistakes, but keeping practice of them is not and will never be normal.

so if you think something is off, say it, talk it out, post it. don’t let it keep happening. the change always starts from inside out.

[chloryn]

anyway if no one else will i guess it has to be me!!

klaus hc’s : the situationship edition

part one

content warning;; klaus x reader, klaus with he/they pronouns, female reader, friends to friends who have sex ?, unexpected boners, sexualization without knowledge, guilty conscience (for a minute), oral sex, 90% not canon, mostly just self indulgent writing

a/n;; there’s simply going to have to be a part two, i tried to get all my thoughts out and i couldn’t. it’s three a.m. and i got out what i could.

- it’s his fault truly, i feel like he is such a romantic

- friends first, you’d meet in the evening, at a record store maybe right before closing, or maybe in a café

- when it comes down to people asking about how you met neither of you have the same answer, always the same line

- “we’ve known each other forever”

- late night phone calls to soothe each other

- klaus would be the first to ask you to come over past the usual “hang out” hours

- “i’ve really tried everything y/n, even the hour long meditation cd”

- “please just come over and sit with me?”

- “i’m bored to death” (he’s literally immortal)

- you agree, you’re only a few blocks away from the academy anyway and besides, you couldn’t sleep either

- klaus would meet you halfway and walk you back, he hates the idea of you outside, alone, in the dark.

- definitely the first time you’ve had a good look around their room, you’d only been in it a handful of times and only for a moment or two

- klaus is a messy kind of organized, but it feels so much like him

- his bed sheets are burnt orange, and their duvet is a dark blue, there’s tons of pillows and fuzzy throws littered on the bed. it feels cozy.

- his nightstand is the cleanest thing surrounding you, an incense burner, a pack of old cigarettes, a bottle of high dollar whiskey, and some jewelry strewn around.

- it smells like the night in his room, one window cracked to let in a breeze, a soft candle burning with the scent of pine, and the scent of him causing you to feel oh so comfortable

- for a moment you question why you hadn’t spent more time with them here, why you wouldn’t want to experience such a private part of your best friends life

- but that was it exactly, this was too private

- but klaus felt better, he felt so much safer with you around, with people around in general but when he had called you he knew he wanted you specifically

- he wasn’t completely honest with you about why he couldn’t sleep or what was bothering him, he didn’t want you to know his past or what kept him up at night

- he was lucky enough to have convinced ben to let him have alone time with you, as he wasn’t sure he could keep up that charade much longer without at least claiming to be delusional

- nothing happens the first time you stay over, or the second, or third even

- the weirdest thing to happen is the morning after, at least the first time he walked you out you wore your own clothes

- by the the third “sleepover” you had strolled into the kitchen, one of their sleep shirts and a pair of boxers you prayed passed as shorts thrown on

- you had only been caught by diego and five, both of which seemed to have been in shock and blubbering, obviously a little disappointed in your decisions by the looks they gave

- you knew it looked strange, you weren’t completely oblivious. the real problem was that you expected klaus to be more conscious of what they were thinking. he wasn’t.

- after your third night over in less than two weeks ben broke the news to klaus, everyone in the house, including him honestly, thought you two were hardcore banging. maybe even more since you were sleeping over and wearing his clothes out.

- klaus was APPALLED.

- they literally had no clue what to say, he was slightly embarrassed but also he didn’t completely mind, it was obvious you two were just close friends

- the next time though he was outside your front door when they called.

- “hey”

- he was too nervous someone would embarrass you, what if you were to find out about what everyone was thinking. his house was super off limits right now.

- he figured you’d be more than happy to sleep in your bed anyway.. and maybe they wanted to snoop a little

- you guys spent such little time at your house

- the reality of it was a horrified expression and profuse apologies, you didn’t have nearly as much space or even an excuse to why your house wasn’t as tidy as you wanted it

- you let him in, walking the both of you back towards your bedroom after noting a couch is no place for a sleepover

- deja vu

- klaus would examine all your trinkets, take note of how everything smelled of you, he truly felt so calm

- “y/n?”

- as if it couldn’t get worse, he pulls out your vibrator from beneath the blanket where he sat. snickering, his ears turning a light pink.

-face flushed you would take it from him, scrambling to put it in your bedside drawer

- it finally clicks, he gets it, he knows why everyone thinks you two are at least messing around. because for the first time, he has a painfully hard cock, and it’s just the idea of you touching yourself in the same spot he’s lounging about on

- he tries so hard to play it cool, covering himself with a blanket, using his hand to gently push it down before you notice

- “you wanna do a movie tonight?”

- “ooo of course!”

- you’d beg him to watch a slasher, and as per usual he’d give in, even though he hates them passionately

- comfy clothes, and popcorn with m&ms mixed in, and sugary sweet drinks to pair with

- “pleaseeee” he’d give into your crocodile tears, giving up his clothes to please you

- turning around so one another can change clothes, covering your eyes with your hands

- shirtless klaus

- after his first *ahem* problem, it would only get worse. you’d hide your face in his chest during the jump scares or when things would get eerie, tucking your arms around his torso

- only wearing a pair of thin pajama pants, opting out of the boxers he had so kindly given to you to wear as shorts yet again, even though your entire closet was mere feet away

- he can feel the curve of your breasts against his arm, and your legs slightly intertwined with his and it may actually give him a heart attack

- god it made him feel so guilty, to know you trusted him with so much of you, your life. just for him to be sitting here, in your bed, sexualizing you while you were just trying to hang out

- he tried everything to make it stop, even thinking of how ben would scold him if he were here

- you probably had a quarter of the movie left when your balance would betray you, accidentally slipping and grazing your forearm against his dick

- both of you bolting up. a mixture of shock and embarrassment across your faces

- your thighs clench ever so slightly at the thought of his arousal being over you, tension fogging your brain

- “y/n i’m so sorry”

-“fuck”

- “i don’t know what’s going on with me tonight”

- cue klaus clambering to get up, but you ushering them back down

- “what if.. we just tried it?”

- “maybe we’re just horny, it’s not a big deal”

- soft kisses, wide eyes

- pulling down his pants, his head slightly purple with pre cum leaking, smearing on his happy trail

- “are you okay with this?”

- “you’re allowed to say no”

- slowly kissing up their thighs, licking and kissing up the shaft, suckling hickies onto their lower belly

- SO so sensitive

- “ahh, st-stop”

- “i- i’m not joking, please- please i’ll cum-“

- smooth about the transition, slipping off their pants and straddling you ever so slightly to slide his hands under his your shirt, nudging your breasts further into their hands, whimpering when their fingers wrap around and twist your pebbled nipples

- “you sound so pretty”

- “fuck, are you sure?” “you’re okay with this?” “tell me if you wanna stop, okay?”

- with your consent he slowly tugs on the waistband of his boxers that rest on your hips, letting your shirt fall back down, he may be fully naked and bare but he doesn’t wanna push you to hard

- he waits for your little nod of approval before hooking his fingers, and sliding them down your soft legs

- klaus has seen bare skin before, he’s seen people who had their cocks leaking for him, or their pussy glistening and puffy waiting for him, but he’d never seen anything that compared to you

- the way you were dripping, pussy swollen and visibly aching, clit prominent and perked up, over him, if there was a heaven waiting for him he was sure he’d found it

- he’d start slow, flattening his tongue, lapping all the way up, moaning every time the taste of you hit his tongue, until he got greedy, swirling his tongue around your clit, sucking and teasing, reaching his free hand under your shirt again to palm your tits

- messy and a bit uncoordinated, bucking your hips ever so slightly as your climax approached

-pulling his hands back and wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you still

- “‘m gonna cum, please, oh god”

- “i’m right there please honey, please”

- the endearment, that’s what would send him over the edge, he’d replay the sweetness of it in your voice over and over coming untouched, moaning and crumbling all while still pulling you closer to your orgasm

- following your orgasm till the very end, letting you guide him through, he’d speed up and slow down for as long as it took as long as he knew he was giving you a complete experience

- nuzzling and lapping up your sap

- “you’re so sweet” “so divine”

- he’d be so exhausted after, but he’d want you to have everything you needed

- “can i get you anything?” “i’ll grab you some water” “let’s clean up, i’ll help you”

- after he was sure you were well taken care of and comfortable, he’d ask you to lay with him. to soak up the afterglow of it all.

- he’d never had this kind of erotic experience before but he knew he may never have it again so he wanted to savor it. and potentially attempt to make it so good you wanted it to be a regular occurrence.

- he would give you the option of him leaving or staying, the sleepover boundary had officially been crossed creating a whole slew of new possibilities

- “stay, please”

- cuddling while sleeping was like a whole new kind of intimacy for him. the way your hair tickled his nose, being able to hear your steady breaths.

- bonus content: ben appearing at an ungodly hour to make sure klaus is okay, and realizing not only would he have to live with his nosey decision, but also with the fact that he couldn’t tell anyone what he knew.

[sillyuin]

Hiiii 🤍🤍🤍 I’ve been reading all your posts and I love your writing, especially as a fellow Dokyeom bias 😭 Thank you for all your work! I was wondering if I could request one for all my healthcare/doctor girlies out there, like if SVT had a doctor girlfriend with random little scenarios like showing up the hospital with a surprise bento or princess carrying them when they come home or using them to practice doing examinations on when they’re all dorky dpwiwidbckdoeo omg hahahaha I’m squealingggg if not don’t worry~~~

Hi there! First of all, thanks for reading and you kind words, it is very much appreciated (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) Sorry for taking so much time but better late than never. Hope you enjoy it! At first I was struggling but ended up loving to write this 😭🩷🩵

Svt dating healthcare professionals

Warnings: I know little to nothing about this professions so it may feel a little flat. Tried to cover various disciplines, there's mention of mental health ahead. Use of cursing words (just once). One is... a little suggestive??

Seungcheol. Once, you finished your shift very, very late and called a taxi to take you home, just to find a sleepy and low-key upset Cheol waiting for you in the living room. “Why didn’t you call me, babe?” he said with such a loving tone that it was you who needed a doctor to check on your heartbeat and blood pressure. Since then, you call Cheol when you’re getting off work, no matter how late it is or if it’s raining cats and dogs, he is willing to drive through the city and pick you up just to make sure that you’re at home and safe. Sometimes you tell him that maybe is being a little over-protective, but he just pretends that’s not listening to you (Is time to accept that his caring side is a card with no expiration date).

Jeonghan. We all know how of a trickster he can be. Jeonghan likes to hide your work tools because is really funny glancing at you, acting so lost, running through the apartment while he’s just minding his own business. “Hanni, have you seen my folder?” you ask him with pleading eyes, “I mistakenly took a patient's tests, and they called me because they need them”. He smirks at you, getting closer as you notice that this is definitely one of his plans. “That will cost you a tiny little kiss”. You deadpan at him but you don’t have much time to waste, so you “pay” the ransom and he returns the object ASAP, not without grinning at your slightly reddish cheeks.

Joshua. When you started your shifts as a nurse, your sleeping schedule became a mess, as well as your meals, sometimes eating just anything or just skipping it. That became a problem for you and for Joshua, he couldn’t just sit and do nothing. He started cooking whenever you need it, so that you could eat properly and stay healthy, even if that means showing up at your work despite his busy schedule or going to sleep later because he was preparing something in advance. Sometimes it seems like he's overdoing it but once you sit down to eat the lunch he gave you, all you can do is giggle in joy and be grateful to have such a caring (and amazing chef) partner.

Jun. Taking care of others' mental health is a big responsibility and you take it as seriously as it is, but sometimes it can be very challenging. When those days show up you come home feeling drained, and the only thing that can save the night is cuddles, and Jun is an expert in the field. There’s no talking or any sound from any device, it's just the two of you on the couch holding close to each other as if it is your one and only chance to do so. His gentle touch, his hands caressing your back and his gentle kisses tickling your face… There's nothing like a healing session of skinship with Jun to give you that extra dopamine you needed.

Hoshi. Being apart for so many hours (even days) from Soonyoung it’s a pain, but your job is important and you need to stay focused, always expecting what might come through the door. During a spare time, you check your phone just to find some messages from him in your inbox. “How you doing, my love? Just passing by to say I love you” “I miss you so much!! Can’t wait for you to come home” “Let's go somewhere nice when you get off work, I’ll pick you up!” and when you call him during break… oh, Soonyoung sounds so happy! Like you can tell he’s smiling. You both put your hearts and passion in everything, but those little moments to check on each other are priceless.

Wonwoo. He’s not the best cooker, we all know this, but that’s not an excuse to don’t eat properly and you, an expert of nutrition, will not ignore that even if it means to spend a little more of money or waking up early in the morning to make the lunch and leave it ready before going to work. The only problem with this is that sometimes you come home being really sleepy, taking little naps before evening. It’s so hard for Wonwoo to wake you up when he’s home so the dinner is up to him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty” he says with a teasing tone, it’s around eight and you just woke up to find him in the kitchen, a pleasant smell filling the room. “Are you… Cooking? By yourself?” Wonwoo chuckles as he invites you with a hand gesture to join him. “You’re so attentive with my meals, so I wanted to cook for you this time. Thanks for your hard work, my love”.

Woozi. He loves listening to everything that happens during your shift, it doesn’t matter if your day was quiet or wild like no other, just being there around you is a bliss. So he couldn’t ignore when you said how much you crave a snack during the afternoon. “It’s sooo boring I almost fell asleep. Maybe something sweet will do something with my lack of energy” it was so casual you probably have forgotten about it. However, from that day on, a package of your favorite snacks appears as if by magic in your bag. Woozi doesn’t say a word about this, his love is quiet but sweet, as much as the gummies you ate happily during the snack time.

Minghao. After a long day at the hospital, running around with little to nothing of rest, your entire body feels as heavy as stones. When you put your pajamas on, all you can think about is sleeping like a bear during winter, and when you enter the room, Minghao is sitting at the edge of the bed. “You must be tired” he says with an attentive smile, his hand patting the bed, “let me give you a massage”. The feeling of his hands in your bare skin, pressing your stiff muscles is the closest to heaven on earth, and the pain starts to slowly disappear. From time to time you let out a soft groan, making Hao stop as he apologizes a little embarrassed. “Sorry, darling” he whispers in your ear and pecks your shoulder. But you’re too relaxed to even care and before Hao is done, you've already fallen asleep, and he feels accomplished. “Good night, y/n”.

Dokyeom. Even when he's away from you, Dokyeom wants you to never forget that no matter what, he's always supporting you and his methods can be a little… Unexpected. So one day he left a little note in your pocket with heartfelt words, and it was so heartwarming that you couldn't help but keep it in your wallet as a lucky charm, later that night you thanked him for such a cute detail. Since then, it is not uncommon for you to find little notes in your folders, the pockets of your uniform and even inside your makeup bag, all of them written by his own hand and with the cheesiest encouragement words on earth. “You can do it! There’s nothing my baby couldn’t manage” “Wash your hands, drink water and remember, I love you” “Have a day as beautiful as you”.

Mingyu. Is late at night and the next morning you’re going to give a talk, they’re freshman students so you’re nervous about it. “What if they make questions and I freeze?” you said, as Mingyu listens carefully. “Practice with me, pretend I'm a student”. It’s way too obvious what his true intentions are but you decide to just play dumb and start to rehearse your words. Everything is going as expected despite the fear of failing, you know how to use every little tool and give proper answers to the questions he makes. In the end it wasn’t that difficult, so you sigh with relief and Mingyu feels like the proudest man in the world. “Now” you hesitate to speak at first, but ended up the phrase “I-I must give you a physical exam”. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Should I take off my shirt?” you deadpan as he shrugs. “No, shit! Why are you always like that?!”

Seungkwan. His biggest love language towards you is paying attention to your physical health because he knows for sure that you tend to forget about it. And when I mean he pays attention, is for real. From subtle things like filling your bottle with water or keeping packs of face masks within reach, to just step in front of you and be as straight as possible. “Be careful, I don't want you to get sick” his voice lovely and tender, so much it makes your heart ache; Seungkwan doesn’t realize how cute you find him when he flips his serious card. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m really worried about you!”

Vernon. When you started dating Vernon was kinda eager to know more about your profession as a dentist, making an effort to follow your advice and take better care of his teeth. “This one” you say, taking a toothpaste from the supermarket shelf “A colleague said that this brand is the best”. Vernon just stared at the shelf, his eyes wandering on the small boxes of toothpaste as he softly squeezes your hand. “Babe, would you fall harder for me if I had a brighter smile?” you both remain silent, followed by a muffled laughter coming from him. “Let’s buy this one then, just for trying”.

Dino. Is evening and you’ve been cleaning the entire day, washing all the tools at the clinical laboratory, keeping the place neat and tidy and basically, doing the best you can as a laboratory assistant. But some days feel so, so heavy; all you want to do is just relax on the couch and do nothing else. For your luck, at home there’s a very diligent Dino that already did the chores so all you have to do is one simple task: Take a shower, put on some comfortable clothes and spend the rest of the night melting into Dino’s warm embrace, while he makes you laugh with the occurrences of his day.

[movingmusically]

Fic request.Austin has been developing a crush on his publicist(reader) for a while but she has no idea.He ends up confessing his feelings during a game of truth and dare with mutual friends. Could you write it from austin's perspective?

Author’s Note: I also received this similar request so tried to write something that worked for both.

Can i request a shorter chapter from austin's perspective? More along the lines of austin having a crush on a girl but she's completely unaware of it. More focus on anxiety that comes with wanting to confess your feelings but never finding the right words or moment to convey them?

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

The Truth of It

It started slow. A flicker. A shift. Nothing obvious. Nothing dramatic.

I’d been working with you for almost a year by then. Enough time to know that you were damn good at your job—and terrifying in that calm, patient way that made other people scramble to keep up.

You never raised your voice, never snapped, never panicked—not even when we were behind schedule or some journalist asked me a question I’d been strictly told to avoid. You’d just appear. Like magic. A gentle hand on my arm, a quiet, “Let’s move on, yeah?” before turning to the reporter with a smile so smooth it could cut glass.

And people listened. They always listened.

“You have to ask the boss,” I said once, halfway through a red carpet when photographers wanted more pictures. You gave me a look like don’t start, but you didn’t deny it.

“Smile, Butler,” you said, nudging me toward the camera. “You’re getting paid for that jawline.”

I smiled. Mostly because you made me want to.

Whenever we were swarmed—flashbulbs, handlers, noise—you reached for my hand to tug me through the chaos. Just like that. No hesitation. Your fingers curled around mine, steady, guiding.

It happened often enough that I stopped questioning it—just let you lead.

Then, one night, you glanced toward a cluster of fans at the barrier and said, calm as ever, “Quick stop for the ones with posters,” without breaking stride. “Then we’ve gotta move.”

And I went. Happily. Because if it was for fans, you always made time. But if it was for me, you made space—held everything still just long enough for me to breathe.

You knew me. That was the problem. You knew the version of me that everyone else saw—and the one that came out after too many interviews and not enough sleep.

You’d show up at my trailer with coffee before I knew I needed it.

You’d pull me out of conversations when my jaw started to lock.

You remembered what kind of gum I liked.

And you never made it feel like a job.

So yeah. Somewhere in there, something changed. I didn’t mean for it to. I just… couldn’t help it.

I almost told you today.

We were walking out of the hotel, post-junket, you listing the next day’s schedule like it was a grocery list. Calm. Efficient. Familiar.

And I looked at you—just looked—and the words nearly slipped out.

I like you.

Or maybe just, I think about you more than I should.

Something light. Something easy.

Something that might’ve meant everything.

But then you glanced at your phone and said we’d be late if we didn’t get moving, and the moment was gone before I even finished building it in my head.

It’s always like that.

These quiet, impossible seconds where I think maybe I could say something. Where I think maybe you’d hear it the way I mean it—not as pressure, not as some cliché, but just… honesty. A quiet truth.

But I never do.

Because we’re good.

Because I don’t want to mess it up.

Because you smile at me like I’m safe, and if I say the wrong thing, that smile might change.

You don’t know.

I’m almost sure of it.

You don’t know that I notice the way your voice softens when you’re asking me something you think I won’t like. That I know the exact shade your eyes go when you’re focused—really focused—on fixing something no one else saw coming. You don’t know that I’ve replayed a dozen almost-moments in my head, trying to figure out if I missed my chance.

If there ever even was one.

You don’t know that I nearly told you last week, when we were standing in line at that coffee place and you laughed at some dumb comment I made. Head tilted, sunglasses slipping down your nose. You looked up at me like I was worth looking at.

And I thought—just for a second—say something.

But I didn’t.

You got a call. I let the moment slip.

I’ve rehearsed it so many times it’s embarrassing.

I’ve tried casual. “You know, you’re kind of impossible to get over.”

I’ve tried funny. “Is there a non-weird way to tell your publicist you’ve got a thing for her?”

I’ve tried serious.

And I’ve said none of them. Not once.

Because you’re not just someone I like. You’re the person I count on.

You’re the calm in every cluster of chaos. The voice in my ear telling me we’ve got five minutes. The person who shows up with tea when my voice is shot, and a look that shuts down dumb questions before I even need to flinch.

You’re… you.

And I don’t want to lose that.

You’d be kind if I told you. That’s what scares me most.

You wouldn’t laugh or make it awkward. You’d smile, probably. Say thank you. Let me down gently.

Then keep doing your job—brilliantly, calmly, without missing a beat.

And I’d still feel like I’d dropped something fragile between us that I could never quite pick back up.

So I wait.

For what, I don’t know.

A sign? The right words? A day where it doesn’t feel like a risk?

Maybe just a second of courage I haven’t managed to find yet.

The thing is—I don’t want everything.

I just want you to know.

And if I ever do tell you the truth, I hope you’ll still look at me the same way after.

We had mutual friends. That helped and didn’t. You used to work with James’s old client, and somewhere along the way, you’d ended up in the same circles. A lot of LA people did. Tight-knit, overlapping, the way this city works when everyone pretends it’s huge but it’s really just one never-ending dinner party.

So when James said he was having people over for his birthday, I knew you’d be there.

He texted earlier to remind me it’s just a chill birthday hang. No pressure. I stared at my phone for a full minute before answering. He has no idea how loud “no pressure” feels when I know you’ll be there.

I should cancel.

Say I’ve got an early call or a migraine or—hell, just vanish.

It would be easier.

But then I remember that thing you said once, half-joking, half not—“You disappear when you’re overwhelmed. Try showing up instead.”

And I think, maybe this is me trying.

Even if I don’t say a word.

Even if I just sit there and nod like none of this is happening in my head.

Even if you never look at me the way I look at you.

I’ll still be there.

Because showing up counts for something, right?

I told myself I was just showing up because I hadn’t seen the crew in a while. But I wore the shirt I knew you liked—the black one with the slightly rolled sleeves—and I brought the bottle of bourbon you’d once said reminded you of New York winters.

You were already there when I walked in.

You looked up, already halfway through a drink and barefoot on James’s rug like you owned the place.

“Took your time,” you said, one eyebrow raised.

“Traffic.”

“Sure.” You glanced at the bourbon in my hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

“You really think I’d show up without it?”

That earned me a smile. “I’ll put it with the rest.”

I followed you into the kitchen, where someone was lighting candles in a cake and James was insisting he didn’t want people singing. You handed me a drink—exactly how I take it, not that I’ve ever told you—and pointed toward the living room.

“Go be social. I’ll rescue you if it gets weird.”

“You always do.”

The night warmed slowly. A few more people arrived. Some I knew, some I didn’t. Industry adjacent, mostly—PR, management, the kind of people who always seem to know each other in LA. Not a massive party, but enough for clusters of conversation, background music, and too many shoes piled by the door.

You were everywhere and nowhere—laughing at James’s terrible playlist, refilling drinks, teasing someone for calling their agent mid-party. But every so often, you ended up beside me again. Elbow brushing mine on the couch. Knees bumping under the table during cake.

I pretended not to notice. Or tried to.

“You always this charming at birthday parties?” I asked when you handed me a napkin just before I dropped icing on my shirt.

You tilted your head. “Only for the ones who dress up.”

“This is me dressed down.”

You smiled. “Shocking.”

It was later—drinks flowing, lights dimmed to that comfortable, flattering level—when someone brought it up.

“I swear, we’re not doing Truth or Dare,” James said, groaning into the couch cushions. “We’re too old for this.”

“That’s exactly why we should,” someone replied. “Let’s act like idiots before our backs give out.”

There were protests, obviously. Groaning, eye-rolling, someone muttering something about ‘trauma from sixth grade.’ But no one left the room.

You were curled up at the edge of the couch, glass in hand, grinning. “Fine. But I’m going first so I can leave when it gets ridiculous.”

James pointed at you. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Truth.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What’s the most unprofessional thing you’ve ever done on the job?”

You took a beat. “I once took a twenty-minute nap in a parked car during a film festival press day. Left my assistant in charge and set an alarm.”

Someone whistled.

I frowned. “Wait. Was that in Venice?”

“Yep.”

“I thought you were reviewing the schedule.”

“I was. In my dreams.”

“That was right before I went on Italian TV.”

“Exactly. I woke up refreshed and fully capable of wrangling you in two languages.”

The game rolled on. One person had to text their ex. Another admitted to crying after losing a pitch. Someone tried to do a handstand and immediately regretted it. All very grown-up stuff.

I stayed quiet. Sipped my drink. Listened. Watched you.

Then someone looked at me. “Alright, your turn Austin. Truth or dare?”

I leaned back, slow. “Truth.”

Of course I picked truth. It wasn’t the kind of night for dares. Not for me.

“Who was the last person who completely caught you off guard?”

It was meant to be harmless, I think. But the second they asked, I felt it—like a shift. Everyone looked relaxed, not really paying attention. But you were watching me.

And I knew I could dodge. Say some reporter. An old friend. Anyone but the truth.

But I shrugged. “Someone I work with.”

That got a few raised eyebrows. Someone whistled. Someone else asked, “Like actually work with?”

I didn’t answer.

But I wasn’t looking at anyone else.

Just you.

The game carried on, but it felt like the air shifted after that.

Maybe it was just me.

No one pressed for more details. The attention moved on—back to dares and dumb stories, someone doing their best celebrity impression, James complaining about the time he sprained his wrist trying to impress a girl with yoga.

You laughed. You rolled your eyes. But I could feel it—something tighter in the space between us. You didn’t look at me much after that question. Not directly. But your body stayed turned toward mine. Your glass tilted in my direction when you talked. Your knee still bumped mine under the throw blanket someone had tossed between us.

Eventually, the game fizzled out. People peeled off into different corners—some back to the kitchen for snacks, some to the garden for air.

You stood up to stretch, glancing down at me with that easy smile you wore like armour. “You want anything? I’m going to grab water.”

“Yeah,” I said, standing too. “I’ll come with.”

You led the way to the kitchen, and I followed. It was quieter in there. Dimmer. The fridge hummed gently as you poured two glasses, handed me one, then leaned against the counter like nothing was different.

But something was. You weren’t looking at me quite the same way.

You took a sip, then asked, too casually, “So. That answer.”

I blinked. “What about it?”

“That truth. ‘Someone I work with.’”

I met your gaze, waited.

You tilted your head. “You meant someone in this room.”

It wasn’t really a question. More like a guess you didn’t quite believe.

I gave a small shrug. “Depends who’s still technically on payroll.”

That made you huff a soft laugh—but your eyes didn’t leave mine.

“I didn’t know you could be cryptic,” you said.

I smiled into my glass. “I contain multitudes.”

You didn’t push it further. Just gave me one more look—curious, maybe a little unsure—and then turned your attention back to the glass in your hand.

And I thought, Not yet.

I wasn’t going to say more. Not here. Not when I didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.

Then a loud laugh burst from the other room—someone knocking over something, maybe. The moment snapped like a rubber band.

You blinked, stood straighter, and tapped your fingers against the counter.

“I should probably make sure James hasn’t burned down the snack table.”

I nodded. “Go. Be the hero.”

But you didn’t leave right away.

You stood there for a second longer, watching me with that expression I could never quite read. Like you were working something out. Like you were about to speak but didn’t want to get the words wrong.

And then you turned and walked out.

I stayed behind. Pretended to check my phone. Took a sip of water I didn’t want. Stared at the counter like it might offer answers.

I hadn’t planned on saying anything tonight. Hadn’t planned anything at all, really. But it had slipped out—honest and real—and now it was just… out there.

I wasn’t sure if you’d heard it the way I meant it. If it would change anything. Or if you’d pretend tomorrow like none of it had happened at all.

But a few minutes later, when I wandered back into the living room, you were waiting. Not near the others. Not caught up in a new conversation.

You were leaning against the hallway arch, arms folded, like you’d been waiting there a while.

Not scrolling your phone. Not pretending to be on your way somewhere else.

Just waiting.

I crossed the room slowly, careful not to make it look like I was hurrying. But my pulse picked up anyway.

You didn’t move. Just said, “Can I ask you something?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Was it… me?” You weren’t coy about it. You weren’t fishing for a compliment. You just genuinely didn’t know—and that, somehow, made the question land even harder.

I nodded once. “Yeah. It was you.”

You let out a breath, more surprise than relief. “Okay. Just… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to assume.”

“Fair.”

You tilted your head, searching. “How did I catch you off guard?”

I looked at you for a long second. “Can I give you the real answer?”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Please.”

“Not here,” I said. “Come with me?”

The guest room was quiet. Lights low. Door half-closed behind us, like even it understood this wasn’t a conversation for public ears.

You stood just inside the room, arms at your sides now, watching me with that same careful expression. Not guarded, not afraid. Just… alert. Like you were bracing for something you weren’t sure you wanted to hear, but needed to anyway.

“So?” you said softly. “What was it?”

I leaned against the opposite wall, hands in my pockets, heart thudding like I’d run five blocks instead of five steps. “You want the honest version?”

You nodded.

“You caught me off guard because… I didn’t see you coming. Not like this.”

Your brow furrowed, just slightly.

“I knew you were good at your job,” I said. “Smart. On it. The person who always had the answers. That was obvious from day one.”

You watched me, saying nothing.

“But then there was the other stuff. Little things. The way you’d drag me away from a conversation right before I started saying something I’d regret. The way you’d hand me gum without asking, or say my name a certain way when I was two questions away from snapping. The way you’d look at me when I wasn’t even talking, like you knew what I was thinking before I did.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just stood there, still and quiet and listening in a way that made my chest ache.

“I didn’t expect to like you,” I said. “And I definitely didn’t expect to feel anything like this. You’re not… you’re not loud about anything. You don’t try to take up space. But you’re everywhere. And I didn’t notice until I couldn’t stop noticing.”

Something in your expression shifted. Softened.

“I meant it,” I added. “You caught me off guard. Not because you did something big. Just because you were you, and I wasn’t ready for what that did to me.”

The silence stretched—but it didn’t feel empty. It felt full. Heavy with everything we hadn’t said until now.

“I’m your publicist,” you said softly, almost like you were reminding yourself. “This is… complicated.”

“Doesn’t feel complicated,” I said. “Not right now.”

You didn’t answer immediately. Just let your eyes drag over my face like you were memorising it. Your voice, when it came, was quieter.

You exhaled slowly. “I really didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to.”

You looked at me. “Why not?”

“Because I like having you in my life exactly as you are. And if saying any of this screwed it up, I didn’t think I could live with that.”

You didn’t speak right away. Just crossed the room in two quiet steps and stopped in front of me.

Close enough to touch. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of your skin, the weight of your focus.

“And now?”

I swallowed. “Now I think I’d rather take the risk.”

You didn’t smile. But your hand found mine. Your fingers curled around mine, steady and deliberate.

Like you were still thinking it through, still holding the weight of everything we were and everything this could shift.

I didn’t move. Didn’t try to push the moment further. Just let my thumb graze the side of your hand, slow and grounding.

You looked up at me, eyes searching.

“I don’t… I’ve never let myself think of you that way,” you said finally, voice quiet. “Not because I didn’t like being around you. I love being around you. I love working with you. You’re—” You stopped yourself. Swallowed. “You’re wonderful.”

That hit harder than it should’ve. Maybe because I could hear the care in it. Maybe because you still hadn’t let go of my hand.

“I just always thought mixing work and… anything else was a bad idea,” you added. “And with you, it’s never been complicated. It’s been good. Easy.”

“I’m not trying to make it complicated,” I said. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I’m not asking for all or nothing.”

You were still watching me, brows drawn slightly like you were working through something you hadn’t planned on solving tonight.

“I just meant what I said,” I added. “You caught me off guard. And I didn’t want to keep pretending that didn’t mean anything.”

The silence stretched, but not in a way that made me want to take it back. You weren’t pulling away.

You were just still catching up.

And then you stepped closer—half a step, maybe less—and said, “I don’t know what this means yet.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“But I don’t want to pretend either.”

That was it.

That was all I needed.

I brought my hand to your cheek, warm and tentative, giving you time to pull back.

You didn’t.

And when I kissed you, it was careful. Curious. A soft, steady press of lips like testing the shape of a new idea.

You kissed me back with the same hesitation I felt in my chest—like we were both standing at the start of something and still working out if the ground beneath us was solid.

But then your hand slid up to my chest, fingers resting lightly over my heart like you needed to feel what you couldn’t quite say yet.

And you didn’t let go.

When we pulled back, your eyes stayed closed for a second longer than mine.

Then you opened them, looked up at me, lips parted, a little breathless. “I don’t know what happens next,” you admitted.

“We figure it out,” I said. “Slow. Safe. On your terms.”

You gave the smallest nod.

And this time, when you smiled, it reached all the way to your eyes.

Taglist:

@thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @myradiaz @butlerrizz @chocolatetree222

[raribella]

Love is Embarrassing | JJ Maybank

summary: although JJ had promised your brother he wouldn’t ever hurt you, you saw him kissing Kie while you were on a break.

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

genre: emotionally heavy anst, fluff in the end

contains: reader being a real bitch, mentions of Luke and parental abuse, inspired by some songs in the album “GUTS” by Olivia Rodrigo, kinda shitty ending but let me know.

word count: 2,7k

author’s note: alright I know I’ve been MIA and a bitch and I haven’t posted anything in months (worse if you see how much stuff is on my “upcoming works” section), but I’ve just had a lot of ideas, little time and little confidence to write. one of my best friends just showed me obx and I’m in love with this blonde and I got (I think) a spoiler about him and Kie and I just had to do something with my feelings.

This is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters of Outer Banks nor any characteristic of the show. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.

“If I fuck up with her that might as well be the last thing I do in my life, John B! I mean it!”

the words that JJ heatedly uttered to your twin brother the day he found out about the two of you were repeating over and over in your head right now. You remembered it all too well; John B was seething, absolutely pissed, seeing red. You and JJ Maybank knew each other for as long as he and your brother were best friends, when you turned 14, he declared to all the Pogues that you were off limits, and about two months ago, you and JJ started seeing each other. One month into it and JB discovered you, which was easy considering JJ already spent most of his time with both of you at the Chateau. JJ promised his best friend that he wouldn’t fuck up with you because two things mattered the most for him in this life; their friendship, and yourself.

But as of lately, he was having some problems with Luke and he asked for some time “out” so he could figure his shit out without involving or hurting you and you disagreed but you’d do pretty much anything in this world for this man so you decided to say yes.

To his bullshit.

Bullshit, you figured out about half an hour ago, when you heard a confusing conversation between him and Kiara – the perfect one – and when you went outside to track the noise, you saw them kissing.

You were fifteen minutes late to leave for the weekly kegger and you forced yourself to lock yourself in the bathroom and call in sick – because that you were, and you wouldn’t handle being out partying and pretending like seeing the kooks, and seeing them two wouldn’t make you feel the same type of nausea at this moment.

Sarah was the third person to try and make you get out of the bathroom. The first being your brother and the second, Pope. Although you were thankful neither JJ nor Kie had tried to talk to you, when you heard your best friend’s voice, you were actually starting to feel sick, you were having a migraine from holding tears up, and you were sweating.

“Y/n, come on! You were so excited to come not even an hour ago, we’re already late and I don’t see why wouldn’t you want to come”

Your vision was blurry as you palmed the door and laid your forehead on it. Sarah realized that you really weren’t coming when she heard your voice crack.

“Sarah please, just, go on out without me this one time, I need not to be there right now and I also need to be alone please don’t ask me questions I can’t handle to answer you this moment I promise-“

As you rambled, she frowned from the other side of the door. Making sure to get everyone to leave for the Kegger, to try and remember asking you about this later on, and to reassure John B that you were actually okay.

You’ve been successfully avoiding JJ for about two weeks now. It started with enough discretion, allegedly going to the bathroom every time he entered a room, or offering everyone any snacks you would spend too much time preparing in the kitchen. For him, it started getting obvious when you looked the other way when he looked at you at the beach, or when you refused to surf and, as of recently, started slamming the doors on him. JJ was getting pissed at this rate. He started by simply frowning and brushing it off, but you couldn’t just keep slamming doors and not even looking at him, and if everyone else noticed, they just wouldn’t budge! The worst part is that he didn’t know what had happened nor if he could fix it. You understood him when he told you he needed time to figure out some stuff with Luke, but the truth was he was still very much freaked out about that. He still loved you, and he couldn’t afford to see you like this anymore, especially when such behavior was being directed at him. JJ missed you. Even if he couldn’t really figure his shit out, he missed you screaming at the top of your lungs as you entered the sea, he missed your smile, your laidback grin that he was the only receiver of, he missed your colorful bikinis, and how they embraced your features as you would jump onto every wooden swing near the shore, your curly hair flying everywhere filled with salt spray. He just missed you, the real you. And he had to talk to you to see if there was even a chance that he could get you back.

You, on the other hand, kept avoiding the questioning looks the pogues would send you every time you were harsh or avoidant at JJ, your brother even attempted to talk to you, silently, just with glances, and figure out if his best friend had hurt you. But even if he did, it only hurt because you loved him too much, and you decided it was best to protect him from John B’s wrath. You felt embarrassed whenever Kiara questioned you with her eyes as well; you felt embarrassed to be near her. You kept crucifying yourself and both her and JJ because of everything, often zoning out of the conversation and just bitterly reminiscing about the times you consoled your boyfriend as he cried late at night in your room, being gentle with his bruises. – thinking how could you be so stupid? giving up everything, betting on him against your brother’s better judgment. You kept paying attention to Kie and how, since that day, she looked like the sweetest thing of the Cut, the fucking hell-side of the island. Her perfume lingered in the air even at the beach and made you feel sick; you saw her everywhere now, even when you looked at him. You saw the scene of them kissing. Feeling every word she would utter toward you in conversation like bullets on your skin. As it was torture how she was the greatest thing to ever exist – how everyone loved her, how she was so much better than you; poisoning everything that you do and still being the sweetest friend, making you despise how rotten your mind was; how jealous your eyes were.

You were bottled up to the brim.

It started out simple enough. JJ had noticed everyone was doing their own thing at the Chateau; John B was absent for the time being, and you were alone on the couch, fidgeting, focused on whatever. It seemed like the perfect window to try and have an actual conversation about what’s been happening. He just didn’t expect it all to escalate so quickly. He didn’t expect you to have seen a part of his conversation with Kiara about his dad – but not everything, not the ending. – He hadn’t expected a conversation with you of all people to become a bomb with a short fuse that would explode into feelings tainted crimson. watching you bleed, making him bleed all over for you.

"Pogues don't mack on pogues, y/n! this shit freaked me out, your brother finding out freaked me out, yeah, even if he’s my best friend and I was afraid that-”

“Oh, so you go ‘round and fucking get with Kiara?! this is fucking bullshit, JJ! bullshit-

“Y/n, listen to me!”

You both were screaming, Kie’s eyes went wide as she tried calling your name as well but you had already started crying and couldn’t pay attention to anyone but him. At this point, as John B arrived at the Chateau and followed the noise, the people around you calming you down couldn’t be sure if they were afraid of his arrival or actually relieved. You kept interrupting each other. JJ pulled his hair and you pointed at yourself and to your side – as if Kiara was still there – strength marking red fingertips above your chest.

“‘Cause she’s not even a real pogue, right?! that’s why you got so confident about it, huh?”

it was almost as if the room went silent. Kiara decided to step outside to give you space; to take a moment to breathe in and take notice that you didn’t mean that. She was sure you didn’t. The rest of the group started to move aside as well although they could obviously still hear the commotion. Only you, John B, and JJ were in the living room. Your brother grabbed your shoulders from behind trying to ground you in any way he could, JJ growing nervous at the rate of the conversation and his friend’s presence.

You looked into his eyes and it was as if the blue in them was slowly fading, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth twisted in a clearly upset frown. As tears stained your cheeks, pride still overpowering your shame and feelings pent up, you started with more meaningless empty jabs, which, said angrily enough, would only make JJ bleed more as he fell silent himself.

“I really loved you, you know? You gotta laugh at the stupidity.. right? Come on you were going around doing that shit and I swear JJ I used to think was really smart… I was just a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked-up little thrill for you, tho… best friend’s little twin… ridiculous.”

At that, John B diverted his attention toward his friend with stern questioning eyes. JJ gulped.

“Look, man I just really need to talk to her and explain myself, ‘aight? I didn’t do what- Things are really not what they seem right now and I need her to-“

“Fuck, JJ, that’s bullshit! How can you not even flinch when you fucking lie like that! Things are just like what they seem you never even fucking loved me! You can’t love anyone, ‘cause that would mean you had a heart, right? But you’re a fucking Maybank! And I really tried to help you out all this time but now I know that I can’t!”

You were calming down, but exploded again, as the words left your mouth though, you started regretting them, the most deeply someone could ever regret anything maybe, worsening by the second as you saw the man you still loved muttering a small “no”, cracking at your words and shedding a tear. As Kiara heard what you said from the outside, she didn’t even think before bursting into the house again, turning every head in her direction.

“Y/n you’re spiraling and you’re saying things you’ll fucking regret! I kissed him, alright?! This is my fault. He stopped me, he loves you and he wouldn’t do that, okay?”

Though the words she was muttering were calming you down, she was calling you out, she was absolutely mad at what you said about JJ’s father because she had context and it was really fucked up. You felt small.

“Kiss?!” John B asked, his eyebrows shooting up. It wasn’t his intention to aggravate the situation but it was his little sister involved. JJ tried to start talking and explain the situation – which Kiara had left him to, but he could really only think about one thing.

“I- uh… did you mean it? What you said.”

JJ rarely expressed any sign of vulnerability, so as his voice broke, you felt like your heart did too, rushing to explain yourself now, and trying to get closer to him.

“I didn’t mean it, J, I really didn’t! God, I don’t even know how you can still even look at me right now I’m so sorry I was just so fucking broken at the idea of you che- of losing you, and I- I thought you had found someone else and I damn near started world war III right now and it’s just because I love you so much and I know you don’t deserve another fucked up demonstration of love, you deserve to feel so good, Jay, and I’m really sorry, I love you so so much, and I will understand if you never-“

You were interrupted by the shock of his own body against yours. The both of you were panting, crying, completely tired sighs leaving each mouth as if this was all going on for days and you were so hurt, yet needing each other so much. John B and Kiara were ‘okay’ enough with the newfound situation to leave you both to your own devices again, and you just clung to one another, sitting on the floor for what felt like hours until he decided to speak again.

“Y/n… I asked for us to take some time because it was becoming too real, y’know? What we felt for each other.. it was, touchable- it is. And when everyone else found out, and then John B… You know I don’t talk about this usually, not with anyone but you, but I didn’t want my dad to find out about us, to find out about you. I don’t want him knowing what you are for me I don’t want him knowing that laying a single finger on you can be worse than any punch he could throw my way. And I wanted to figure this out without you knowing about it because you’d say it’s fine, and I-“

As your mind processes his words, you start to think how in the world you got a man whose the first concern about a monster of a father would be you. How could you deserve it, especially after what you had insinuated about him. “It is! It’s fine, honey, we can-“

“No, y/n it’s not fine because I don’t ever want you to even worry your pretty little head about a situation like that, y’know? And It’s not fine because the pogues are my family and the love I feel for you, if anything would happen to you because of him I’ll be damned, damned, and in jail for murder, you can trust me I will.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. All you could do was keep the hold you had on each other, slightly caressing his head.

“Since I didn’t want you to know about it, I went to Kie, that night of the Kegger, and she tried to help me and she said she loved me and I did too but then she kissed me and I assume it’s what you saw but I did step back, I promise! I told her off… Y/n I told your brother that if I intentionally hurt you, if I fucked up with you like this then that might as well be the last thing I did in my life and I mean it. I love you so much, little Routledge, and I’m all in now. We can figure shit out as we go but as long as we have each other, okay?”

As JJ spoke, he held your hands, reassuring you at the end. Hours had passed ever since you started talking, so when the pogues felt everything was calmer they decided to go back in the house slowly – figure out how you were, what were the plans for the night.

“Do you really forgive me for what I said? I will understand, J, I’m so, so sorry, I love you so much” You touched your forehead with his, and JJ sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I love you. I love you, y/n… can’t be without you.”

And as you both kissed each other as if you were making up for ages lost, Sarah smiled at the corner of the room, John B interrupting the show. “Come on with the PDA, love birds… What are we doing tonight, then?” He half-heartedly scolded as you got up, hand glued to the blonde's. You let out a big sigh again, before brushing them off with an honest, but half-assed excuse, already making the way to your room.

“I mean, you could go to Heyward’s… I think we’ll just lie down a bit.. ‘twas kinda draining…” you saw a bunch of side smiles as the group left through the door, Sarah grinned, letting out a puff of air through her nose, and when Pope went to close the door, he screamed back in the direction of your room, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” which earned a scream back from an already lying down JJ, “might as well not do anything!” and for the first time in a while, you laughed, making your way to lie on top of him, his embrace being all you needed.

“You know… we could go out to surf tomorrow,” he offered, still missing the sight of a happy you, your bikini, and the ocean.

“First thing in the morning.” You answered.

[pxpecxdy]

Hi! Congrats on 200! I’ve been around a few days now after becoming ridiculously obsessed with Pope and finding your content lol. I can’t pick my favorite prompt so I’m gonna let you decide but I liked 52, 55, 64, and 154.

Thank you! 🤍

Okay I had an idea for 3 of the 4 but then I thought of yet another idea I might write later! I thought this was going to turn to smut but unfortunately it didn't. Thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing this one

Tw: Canon typical violence, harassment of reader

The plan was solid. The heist was going to be some elites only club. You were going to go in first, flirt with the men, cause a distraction, while the boys robbed the place. You were to play the lonely widow, all dolled up and looking for company.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Pope lamented again in the car.

He was trying his best to keep his eyes off of you. If he could barely look away, then the other sleezy men with no self control wouldn't even bother trying. "You're going to break an ankle in those heels" he uttered his newest lame excuse. The twinkling of the ring on your finger pulled his attention from your nearly bare thighs. " And what's with that, are they just going to ignore that massive rock on your finger?" He questioned.

"Pope clearly you haven't spent enough time around other men" you chuckled. "They don't care if you're taken or not. Plus I gotta look the part to play the part."

The plan was going off without any problems. Almost everything was wrapped up. A group of business men had sought out your attention almost immediately. You play with their ties, ran your heel up and down their calf, sighed about the lack of affection since your late fiance passed. You got up from the table and left the members lounge to find a waiter to get you a drink, when in reality you were checking in with Craig about the plan. Pope was watching them, making sure they hadn't caught on that they'd been robbed blind. However, he wished he hadn't with the things he heard.

"She has a great ass." One man said. "And the tits to go with it" another added on. "She'd look real good on her knees" "We could convince her to go to one of the suites" another sleaze added. "I don't think we even need a suite. Just lock the door when she comes back!" He laughed and the others joined in.

When you got back to the lounge, you had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from making any noise. All of the men were brutally beaten, blood pooling beneath them. You couldn't tell if they were dead or alive or somewhere in between.

"Andrew!" You whisper yelled at him. He finally looked up from the man he was punching over and over again. "We need to go. Now."

How you got out of there without getting caught, you had no idea. Craig and Deran had the cash and other goods while you and Pope rode together. He didn't say a word the entire time. His jaw clenched and his knuckles would be white if it weren't for the blood splattered against them.

"You could have blown the whole thing Pope!" You finally snapped at him.

"They were saying awful things about you. Every last one of them had it coming" He didn't take his eyes off the road. His tone was final. He didn't elaborate more. "I don't want you doing jobs like this anymore."

[nordickies]

Remember when I used to make headcanon masterposts? Yeah, me neither, but here we go again! I don’t often get the chance to talk about Norway in depth, but he has been at the forefront of my mind lately. So I thought, why not bring my thoughts together in the form of a very long masterpost? This masterpost is packed with big and small ideas about his character that shape the way I personally write him.

I tried to gather everything I could think of, though I’m sure I’ve forgotten something along the way. I’ll happily update the list later. If people are interested, I’d love to finish similar posts for the rest of the Nordics as well as revisit some of the older ones!

So, without further ado, brace yourself and read the whole list below!

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Introduction

Norway’s human name is Sigurd Nordvik, and Mr. Norway (Herr Norge) is the title by which he is formally addressed. However, he doesn’t really care about official titles and prefers people to call him Norway or Norge. Sometimes his closest friends may use the human nickname "Sigge." In the past, he was called Sigurðr — or Siward in English. Sjur Ødegård has often been his go-to alias.

His chosen birthday is the 17th of May (Norway’s Constitution Day), but he has never been the type to celebrate himself. He prefers to keep the day as a celebration for his country and its people. He likes rotating the type of bunad he wears every year, and he heads to the streets to celebrate together with his people.

He speaks Norwegian and English, and due to his close relationship with his neighbors, he can speak Swedish and Danish too — though hesitantly, only when necessary. In the past, he spoke Old Norse, Latin, German, and French. However, he has since forgotten most of these languages and is no longer able to communicate through them efficiently.

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Appearance

Sigurd has light grey eyes, reminiscent of mountain bedrock or morning fog. His head is long and narrow. He has a slightly bumpy, downturned nose, hollow cheeks, and a relaxed, expressionless face. His lips are thin, his eyes narrow, and his wavy, light blonde hair falls just to his neck, a little unkempt. A modest amount of facial and body hair adds to his understated ruggedness. His skin is pale but reactive, quick to flush in the cold wind, burn in the sun, or betray his mysterious image during heightened emotions. He's naturally quite thin and in fit shape due to his hobbies. He's tall, around 185 cm.

Sigurd doesn't outshine with his sense of fashion, dressing for convenience rather than looks. While he owns plenty of well-fitted suits and tailored longer coats for the occasions that call for them, he feels most like himself in chunky wool sweaters and hiking trousers, fit for the weather for the majority of the year. He seems to avoid bright colors, except red, but he loves detailed colorwork knits. He's frugal when it comes to many things and thus still knits his own sweaters. He claims he doesn't want to waste money on items he could easily make himself, and he certainly has similar sweaters in many variations in his closet. But, in contradictory fashion, he'll wear insanely expensive outdoor gear, technical boots, and windproof jackets without seeing any problem in subtly flexing through them.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Personality

Sigurd is a reliable, composed, and trustworthy person in any situation — the kind of friend you want to keep in your life. His honest yet genuine demeanor tends to leave a lasting impression, and he’s generally viewed in a very positive light. Though Sigurd is quiet and mysterious, his presence tends to spark curiosity rather than intimidation. Everyone wants to claim him as their best friend.

Naturally reserved, he can sometimes come across as distant or emotionally cold. However, he simply prefers to keep to himself, avoid bothering others, and not stand out too much. Sigurd makes a conscious effort to be respectful, often avoiding situations that could feel awkward for either party, so he tends to keep his social interactions formal and brief. Social settings overwhelm him easily, and if given the chance, he’ll quietly slip away before anyone even notices or makes a big deal out of it.

Emotionally, Sigurd is guarded. He struggles to express his feelings out loud, fearing they’ll be used against him or cause worry for others. He's used to being the sensible one, calming others down or offering a voice of reason. Sigurd being in a position where he’s the one needing help feels foreign to him. But once he’s drunk, he’ll open up more than usual, only to be hit with crushing embarrassment the next day for letting his guard down. He’s painfully shy around strangers and tends to overthink social interactions, worrying he’ll reveal too much. But to those who earn his trust, he reveals a gentler, more thoughtful side. He’s among the first to notice when someone is unwell, silently checking in—even if his concern comes out as awkward teasing. He cares deeply about his family and friends.

Still, beneath the stoic surface lies a playful spirit. Sigurd is a subtle trickster — fond of poking or teasing those he's close to, and dropping dry, sarcastic remarks with perfect timing. He pretends not to care, but he thrives on attention, especially after years of feeling like the forgotten player in their group. He secretly loves being talked about, praised, and even admired, though he quickly shuts down compliments. Still, he tends to view himself through his flaws rather than his strengths. Sigurd believes there are only a few things he’s truly talented at. When he falls short of his impossibly high standards, it feels like a crushing failure of his entire being. Despite his insecurities, Sigurd takes pride in his achievements. He’ll brag (modestly, but often) when things go well, especially if he wins something. He does his job well, always on time, and with quiet perfectionism that is often underappreciated.

Sigurd lives at his own pace, content without chasing flashy or grand goals. He’s outdoorsy, self-reliant, and focused on himself. You could say he's health-conscious due to many health-related issues in the past. But sometimes, he becomes overly fixated on it, especially during times of stress, to the point of overworking or limiting himself harshly. His relationship with money is also complicated. He’s used to surviving on very little, so even spending on small comforts can feel indulgent. He sometimes gets uncomfortable when people comment on his country’s wealth, fearing they’ll judge him personally because of it. As a result, he often steers the conversation away from the topic. Sigurd is snarky and elusive, the kind of person who could lie with a straight face if he wanted to. He's particularly skilled at keeping things about himself tightly under wraps, making him incredibly hard to read. He often projects calm and composure even when he’s unraveling inside. If anyone were built to be a manipulator, it would be Sigurd. But thankfully for those around him, he’s not malicious.

Sigurd’s emotional world is buried deep, shaped by experiences he rarely speaks of — tucked behind layers of dry humor and thoughtful silence. Perhaps because of this, he often drifts from the present, dissociating, his mind slipping into daydreams. Sometimes, he imagines fantastical scenes, far removed from the noise of everyday life. When faced with complicated emotions, Sigurd retreats into his head, withdrawing from others. Without a healthy outlet, his bottled-up feelings tend to leak out sideways — through excessive sarcasm, bullying, or self-sabotage. Left to his own devices for too long, Sigurd can grow apathetic and cynical, sinking into depression. That’s why he needs people who won’t give up on him, people who keep reaching out, even when his instinct is to push them away.

Sigurd’s emotional wounds surface in his relationships. He has trust issues, and his first instinct is to build walls when he fears getting hurt. Letting people in doesn’t come naturally to him. His past unions weren’t exactly unhappy, but they lacked mutual respect, leaving him feeling unimportant. His opinions and feelings were rarely considered in decision-making. Those experiences left a mark, making him doubt the idea of real love for someone like him. In his eyes, marriage between Nations has always been more political than personal.

Mysterious, humble, and sincere could all be words to describe Sigurd. He brings a calming presence but with a layer of sharp wit. His kindness is subtle but ever-present, tucked beneath layers of sarcasm, shy smiles, and a masked desire to be seen.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Lifestyle

Sigurd resides in Oslo due to the capital's role as the center of politics and entertainment, but he has previously lived in Bergen and Nidaros (Trondheim). When he has time off, he retreats to his mountain cabin to recharge. However, he sometimes has to deal with unexpected guests when his family also wants to enjoy a picturesque cabin weekend. It’s partly Sigurd’s own fault for wanting to be nice and offering the cabin for others to use whenever they want.

Sigurd's house is a bit chilly and serene, to the point where you can hear the old clock ticking through the halls or the walls cracking on the coldest winter days. The muted colors, a rocking chair, and large wooden cupboards all add to the tranquil atmosphere. He has a lot of old furniture he’s either kept or discovered in vintage shops. Both his house and cabin are filled with books and worn-down furniture he hasn’t dared to get rid of. He rarely buys new things as long as the old ones still work. When the silence stretches too long, he finds himself showing up unannounced at Björn’s or Magnus’ place (and raiding their pantries, calling it harrytur). The trio jokes that Sigurd is like a household cat — aloof and low-maintenance, but always returning when he wants warmth or food.

Still, Sigurd’s adventurous side doesn’t let him stay a hermit at home for too long. He’s well-traveled and deeply curious about other cultures. If he disappears for a while, he’s likely off-grid, hiking in jungles or trekking through remote landscapes. There’s hardly a place left on Earth he hasn’t visited — not even Antarctica. He’s terrible at keeping in touch or letting people know when he’s leaving, but they trust he’ll return home safely with new stories and the same worn backpack.

Sigurd has a strong, almost spiritual connection to nature. It means everything to him, and he’ll go stir-crazy if forced to stay indoors — even when he’s sick or injured. He genuinely believes in folkloric creatures like trolls, fairies, and elves, and he’s careful not to disturb rocks or trees out of respect for them. He’s passionate about environmental preservation and fascinated by Norse mythology and sagas. While he doesn’t publicly identify as a practicing pagan, he occasionally dabbles in folk magic. These interests, along with his deeply introverted habits and daydreaming nature, make him feel like someone stuck in another time. His brothers don't waste the opportunity to call him plain odd because of it, though.

Sigurd lives an active lifestyle. He skis, runs marathons, sails, and fishes — again subtly flexing with his high-quality fishing and hiking gear and regularly making trips to the northern wilderness. Back home, he goes for morning runs before sunrise, wearing reflective gear and a headlamp, preferring the peace of empty trails. In winter, he swaps running shoes for skis. Sigurd is sometimes seen as a kind of patron of sports, being the face of campaigns encouraging people of all ages to stay active. He loves attending sporting events and is always touched when asked to present awards and give speeches. He’s especially proud of working with youth sports organizations and anti-bullying campaigns.

Despite appearing like the poster boy for healthy living, Sigurd’s diet is another story. He survives on a strange mix of comfort foods — sugar-free cola, tacos, waffles, and frozen pizza, to name a few. He’s a decent cook but rarely strays from the few meals he enjoys. He’s not big on sweets, but he won’t turn down a piece of kransekake or anything almond-flavored. However, during hikes, he must carry a chocolate bar with him, which he'll open at the top of the mountain, resting for a moment and taking in the stunning view.

Sigurd also has a rich musical side — he plays the violin. In his youth, he would entertain others with his fiddle, providing atmosphere for celebrations. But most importantly, the instrument was a tool through which he could hone his skills and earn recognition. These days, he’s fascinated by electric violins. Sigurd enjoys emotional rock ballads and epic instrumental music. But once he’s drunk, he’ll sing along to Norwegian party songs with all his heart. He can become quite the loud party animal when intoxicated — but firmly denies it if teased.

Sigurd’s speaking voice is calm and airy, and he has a beautiful, soft singing voice. He has even been asked to narrate audiobooks of Norwegian literature classics. In quieter moments, he enjoys knitting and watching odd TV shows while curled up in his chilly living room. He developed an interest in roleplay and fantasy games in the 1970s and would gladly do it more often with the right group of friends. He’s also a cat person and adores kittens. He has two Norwegian Forest cats named Olaf and Mons.

As the youngest of the three brothers, Sigurd sometimes struggles with being compared to Magnus or Björn, becoming visibly upset and defensive about it. During his childhood, he had to fight for attention just to be seen and valued, but he rarely received the recognition that his brothers often did. Maybe that’s why he’s so fiercely competitive. Sigurd is always ready to join a friendly sports match — so long as he thinks he has a shot at winning. Even the most peaceful beach day tends to turn into a spontaneous contest, with Sigurd pestering someone to time his swim to settle once and for all whether he’s faster than Magnus or Björn. The same applies to chess, which Sigurd is insanely good at, or other strategic board games. Game nights in their family can thus turn rather chaotic very fast.

Sigurd isn’t particularly tidy either. After long fishing or hiking trips, he’ll barge into Björn’s place and flop onto the couch without a second thought, opening a bag of chips, still covered in travel grime. Naturally, Björn whines at him about it. But in true Sigurd fashion, he just shrugs and grins, teasing his way out of the scolding.

Sigurd’s view of his own immortality has shifted over the years, but his role as a representative of Norway has always given him a sense of purpose and motivation. He’s had bad experiences with other immortals, so he tends to seek meaning and comfort in his work — representing something he truly values. He wants to focus on what matters to him, finally pursuing his own goals instead of being held back by others. His job has strengthened his sense of self and purpose. While his responsibilities can feel limiting at times, he can recognize his immortality's nuances and appreciate the good sides of it.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Relationships

Sigurd is a reserved guy who doesn't have many deep friendships outside of his family. Most of the time, he hangs out with Björn — which is maybe a bit embarrassing for him. Sigurd doesn't like parties or big social gatherings, as he feels most people end up invading his personal space, thus making him uncomfortable. Also, his social battery runs out extremely fast. While he prefers to keep to himself, he has a strange kind of charm that draws people to him.

With such a massive coastline, Sigurd sees the Atlantic as his home and has good relations with fellow Atlantic nations. He has traveled far and wide, and generally, the Commonwealth countries have been friendly toward him, often allying with him on various matters. He sometimes goes on skiing trips with Switzerland, Liechtenstein, or Austria, as they bond over mountains and ski-related sports. They get along surprisingly well, as long as Sigurd’s silence doesn’t bother them. New Zealand is another outdoor enthusiast Sigurd gets along with — an unlikely friend from the other side of the globe.

Sigurd is usually the first to point out that Björn and Magnus have gotten old and aren't nearly as fun as they used to be. Perhaps he just doesn’t like being reminded of the passage of time or of how comfortably others have settled into ordinary lives. He feels like he’s only just now gotten his own life on track! The idea of having children or getting married doesn’t appeal to him at all. These days, he cherishes his freedom and self-reliance, which he desperately aspired for so long.

Sweden / Björn The core aspect of Sigurd's and Björn's dynamic is the love-hate relationship. They love to annoy the hell out of their söta bror, their sweet brother. They’ll nag each other nonstop and drive one another crazy all day, yet still spend the night talking, braiding each other's hair, and falling asleep in the same bed. At the same time, they constantly mock each other for being copycats, always blaming the other for mimicking their style or stealing their stuff. After all, what’s worse than being constantly compared to your sibling? Björn and Sigurd grew relatively close and spent a lot of time together growing up. They were just as competitive then as they are now; it’s definitely a trait that developed in their childhood. Both had to make do with limited resources, so competition was sometimes necessary, maybe even encouraged. Nowadays, they’ll compare anything: who has the better car, the greener yard, more birthday wishes on social media. They never seem to tire of the comparisons, though everyone else around them certainly does. But truthfully, they’d do anything for one another if it came down to it; their nagging is just a weird combination of their love languages. While they complain about the other’s incompetence and lack of brains, they still show up when needed, no questions asked. They just can’t bring themselves to admit they care; it’s too corny, not their style at all. They’ve been in various unions throughout history, though rarely by choice. Those unions have definitely left a mark, and there have been times when their relationship was seriously strained. While Sigurd usually ends up being the voice of reason around Magnus and keeps an eye on him, with Björn, he lets himself be unapologetically bothersome. Björn sometimes calls Sigurd slow and out of touch, like he’s stuck a few centuries behind. Björn can be nitpicky and meticulous, which drives Sigurd crazy. To Sigurd, Björn is a perfectionist who’s always trying to keep up appearances, even during the worst of times. Even now, Björn has a tendency to meddle in other people’s business; Björn might scold Sigurd for how he treats his little brother Eiríkur, but Sigurd will snap back and tell him it’s none of his business. On the flip side, Sigurd’s free-spirited nature and lack of structure drive Björn mad. Sigurd is strong-willed and hard to cooperate with once his mind is set on something. He’s opinionated but keeps things bottled up, which leads to spiteful and inconsiderate behavior when things don’t go his way. His antisocial tendencies and bluntness can be frustrating and even embarrassing for Björn, especially since Björn himself is so conflict-avoidant and tries to keep everyone happy. Despite those unions, however strained, they have created a strange dependency between them. Even when they’re at odds, they try to understand what the other is going through, comforting each other at their worst. Their interests and hobbies are pretty similar, so it’s no surprise they spend so much of their free time together. Neither of them does well in big crowds, and they both deeply appreciate the calm, casual atmosphere they share when it’s just the two of them. They can sit in silence doing nothing, and that’s more than enough. Though Sigurd still occasionally tries to inject a little adventure into his brother’s routine. Nature is their shared escape, and they go hiking, skiing, or kayaking when they can. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Denmark / Magnus Magnus and Sigurd still share a deep emotional bond that's unique to them. They’re able to speak rather openly about their worries and offer each other genuine advice. Magnus relies on Sigurd and holds him in high regard, being the best friend Magnus would trust with his life. Sigurd, on the other hand, doesn’t quite share the same enthusiastic view. He keeps his distance when he can and doesn't always give in to Magnus’s wild proposals. Still, Magnus sees Sigurd as a constant in his life, someone who always has his back, no matter what. Magnus can get lost in his own world at times, forgetting things or getting distracted, so Sigurd ends up following behind to clean up the mess — just as he always has. It annoys Sigurd, but he knows Magnus doesn’t do it out of selfishness, and he’s learned to live with it. Together, Magnus and Sigurd are something of a comedic duo. Magnus's wild schemes test Sigurd's patience every single time and put them on some kind of adventure. Sigurd has learned to say "Magnus, no" almost instinctively to everything, but if nothing else, he keeps an eye to ensure Magnus doesn't get into too much trouble. Whenever Sigurd helps him out of a mess, Magnus showers him with gratitude—until he inevitably drags Sigurd back into his mess again. That’s probably why Magnus instinctively turns to Sigurd with every problem, even when it would make more sense to ask Björn. Only Sigurd seems to know how to talk him down and help him understand even the messiest of situations. Magnus tends to worry on Sigurd’s behalf — a habit Sigurd doesn’t appreciate due to past experiences with Magnus’s more controlling tendencies. But Magnus’s intentions are good; he simply wants to help and offer support. Accepting that help, though, is a real challenge for Sigurd. Magnus knows Sigurd has a tendency to bottle things up and fall into depressive episodes, and it’s something he’s quietly concerned about. He tries to keep Sigurd’s spirits up and remind him of the brighter side of life. They often visit each other’s places, though for entirely different reasons, and as a result, they end up spending a lot of time together. Sigurd often thinks Magnus’s way of doing things is ridiculous — but he gets a good laugh when he puts Magnus on skis or drags him up a mountain, watching him struggle through the harsh winter terrain. Magnus, for his part, is just happy to be entertaining. Sigurd cares about Magnus, too, in his own quiet way. He’s just learned to set boundaries so Magnus doesn’t walk all over him. He knows how much he means to Magnus, so he can’t bring himself to be too cold or dismissive. He’ll help when asked but won’t hesitate to scold Magnus to keep him in check. Magnus knows he wasn’t always the best to Sigurd in the past, so he tends to be pretty laid-back when Sigurd teases or mocks him. As much as Sigurd has had to put up with Magnus, he doesn’t hold a grudge—not even when he easily could. They’ve worked through their past issues more than once and, for the most part, moved on. And no matter how much Sigurd complains about Magnus’s constant presence in his life, he always answers the phone when Magnus calls—and always shows up when asked. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Finland / Timo Sigurd and Timo get along remarkably well, sharing a number of common interests, like winter sports and music, that give them easy ground to bond over. Sigurd is unusually generous with Timo, often lending him gear or bringing him over-the-top gifts, which Magnus and Björn find unfair, as they’re not given such privileges. Sigurd insists that Timo is simply more trustworthy, and he trusts Timo to handle his stuff with care. Sigurd and Timo tend to drift to the sidelines during gatherings, content to sit with a cup of coffee and talk quietly. They have been through similar experiences they can both relate to, and thus far, they haven’t provoked one another too badly, making their friendship rather drama-free. Timo has always admired Sigurd, ever since they were young. There was something distant and mysterious about him that made Timo want to get closer, mimicking Sigurd in little ways, trying to be more like him. That admiration hasn’t really faded; Timo still sees Sigurd as someone effortlessly cool, someone worth looking up to. He follows his lead with almost blind loyalty, always ready to join him on hikes or fishing trips with eager enthusiasm. Sigurd, in turn, finds Timo’s stories amusing and his quiet resilience endearing. They’re not each other’s first pick when it comes to social plans, but when they do spend time together, they genuinely enjoy it. Sigurd appreciates how easy it is to be around Timo, how he laughs at his dry jabs about Björn or follows along with his plans without needing to be convinced. Sometimes, though, Timo’s passivity and eagerness to please clash with Sigurd’s snarkiness and competitive streak. He feels a bit guilty if he's being too sarcastic with him. Timo’s too kind to push back, and more often than not, the sass may go completely over his head. Because of that, Sigurd holds back more than he does with others. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Iceland / Eiríkur Sigurd has never been good at parenting or taking responsibility for others, so he has a lot of regrets concerning Eiríkur. He has always known Eiríkur is his brother but has never been able to connect with him. That doesn't mean he doesn't care about the kid, but Sigurd just never found a way to claim that big brother status. They're very similar in nature, but that also means they're both bad at communicating and prefer to keep everything in. Nowadays, Eiríkur sometimes insists on his independence with the same stubborn pride Sigurd once had, insisting he doesn’t need anyone fussing over him. Sigurd respects that space, but his distance can unintentionally reinforce Eiríkur’s fears regarding Sigurd. The irony isn’t lost as each is trying, in their own clumsy way, to protect the other from disappointment. Sigurd's attempt to reclaim their lost bond is sometimes irritating to Eiríkur, even though he knows it shouldn't be. He just has lots of disappointing memories when it comes to his brother, which is the reason for his underlying insecurities between them, like the lingering fear that Sigurd might disappear again, as he has before. On the other hand, Sigurd has always given Eiríkur the freedom Magnus never knew how to give. He took Eiríkur on long trips and taught him necessary life skills that gave him the critical tools to survive on his own. Eiríkur adored Sigurd growing up, always choosing him over anyone else. He used to light up at the mere mention of Sigurd’s name and grew jealous if someone else claimed his brother’s attention. When Eiríkur was nervous or unsure as a child, Sigurd would tell him fantastical stories and restore hope in him, uniting them through their shared love for stories and imagination. When Sigurd was bedridden by the plague, little Eiríkur stood by him. He would sit by his bed, read books, and talk to him, as they'd tell each other stories. Eiríkur could bring Sigurd messages and meals while occasionally spying on Magnus and Björn, reporting back what they were planning. But other days, Sigurd was too ashamed or tired to even let Eiríkur into his room, giving the poor kid mixed signals on what he was supposed to do. Many times, Sigurd's own need for autonomy took precedence over his responsibilities to Eiríkur — desperate attempts to hold on to the few meaningful tasks that gave him a sense of purpose. Sometimes, the choices weren’t even Sigurd’s to make, as orders from above pulled him away. There were days when Eiríkur expected Sigurd to come and visit him, waiting patiently at the harbor, watching every ship that came in, expecting his brother to step off the deck from one of them. But he didn’t. Eventually, Eiríkur learned not to get his hopes up, but the disappointment carved itself into him, leaving a quiet scar that never fully faded. Sigurd feels immense regret for not being there when Eiríkur was small, left alone on a harsh island during his most formative years. But Sigurd was only a teenager himself then. Even if he had been there, he doubts he would’ve been the role model Eiríkur needed. Still, the guilt lingers, and he tries to make up for it in the present. They go camping and fishing when time allows, returning to the wild places where they feel most at ease. Around the campfire, they talk about the past. Eiríkur is endlessly curious about their roots and history, and Sigurd does his best to help, though time has eroded many of his memories. Sigurd wants to make sure his brother has what he needs, that he’s equipped to live better, freer, and more fulfilled than Sigurd ever was. But expressing love has never come easily to him, so instead of words, he keeps buying things for Eiríkur, always asking if he has everything he needs, which Eiríkur insists he does. Both Sigurd and Eiríkur have regrets and disappointments regarding their shared past, but they will always have that unique family bond no one can take away from them. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

England / Arthur Both Sigurd and Arthur are old friends who go way back, bound by years of cooperation. Both are ambitious by nature and aware of what they want, yet not always the best at being emotionally present or vulnerable. In many ways, their similarities make their friendship feel effortless. Sigurd has always seen Arthur as a respectable peer, someone who understands and sees Sigurd’s effort. Over the years, Arthur has supported Sigurd during some of the most difficult periods of his life, offering help when people wouldn’t expect him to. While Arthur has managed to get on many people's wrong sides and people's opinion isn't always favorable of him, Sigurd has gotten rare glimpses of a softer Arthur that very few get to see. They often collaborate closely, especially in matters of work, and there's a warmth to their friendship that shows most in small gestures. Sigurd, for instance, never misses the chance to go all out with Christmas gifts. And while Arthur is often busy and hard to pin down, he never turns down the chance to share a drink with his quiet old friend. However, sometimes Sigurd is faced with an awkward position due to Arthur’s and Eiríkur’s disinterest in one another, as he doesn’t want to seem like he’s siding with one over the other. Arthur and Eiríkur just don't really get along, but for the sake of Sigurd, they try to at least pretend. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Ireland / Saoirse Saoirse's and Sigurd's histories are deeply intertwined, shaped by tensions and collaborations between their former peers. Saoirse, sharp-tongued and quick-witted, didn’t exactly warm up to the Norseman right away. But even back then, she had a sense of humor that cut through his cold exterior. She also had a fearless spark that challenged him in ways few others could. When he pushed her, she pushed back. When he played rough, she returned the energy with twice the force. Saoirse, too, has always loved storytelling and music, talents that Sigurd has long admired from a distance. Her creativity and charisma drew him in, even if he didn’t always know how to say it. During their time in America, the two reconnected as adults, finding more common ground than before. The noisy rivalry of childhood gave way to a friendship marked by loyalty and a shared determination to survive in a new harsh situation. Nowadays, Saoirse teases Sigurd every now and then, especially when he’s in the presence of Arthur or Alasdair. This is to remind them he’s an old friend of hers too! Unfortunately, Saoirse has a knack for sniffing out gossip, so Sigurd has to keep his guard up around her to make sure his secrets stay buried, for now. ─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Scotland / Alasdair Alasdair and Sigurd have known each other for as long as either of them can remember. From the very beginning, their relationship was shaped by the tensions from deep-rooted rivalries. First impressions were tainted by prejudice but also riddled by a persistent curiosity. As children, they played together despite the tension — sometimes too rough, ending in scratches and one of them running off in tears. And yet, no matter how many times they separated, that pull toward one another never quite faded.  In those early days, Sigurd was bolder, at times impossible to handle. A menace in the eyes of many, especially during the chaos of the Middle Ages. Alasdair, by contrast, was already brimming with pride and an unshakable sense of confidence, always standing tall even when others tried to cut him down. His fierce spirit and charisma fascinated Sigurd, while Alasdair was equally intrigued by Sigurd’s mysteriousness. But Sigurd's path got complicated. Tied down by the demands of centralized rule and weakened by the plague, he found himself trapped within constraining unions and a loss of influence that left him weak and apathetic. During the Kalmar Union, his failing health and desperation to retain a sliver of autonomy left him too afraid to meet many of his peers, feeling like a shadow of his former self. And yet, when Alasdair reappeared in his life, something shifted. The Scot’s energy offered Sigurd comfort and relief, giving him a brief escapism from his state. In another timeline, perhaps they would have worked together more, built something lasting through alliances, but history had other plans. Even when political duties kept them apart, they remained close via handwritten letters, with something unspoken lingering between them. During occasional meetings, whether by trade or diplomatic visits, their connection only deepened. A quiet, persistent yearning began to take root, romantic in nature but carefully concealed beneath layers of duty, uncertainty, and timing that never quite lined up. It wasn’t until the 19th century that they found themselves drawn together again — both of them older, hardened by experience. Sigurd, now part of yet another union, was fighting more fiercely than ever to carve out his independence, while Alasdair was navigating his own path through the tides of industrialization and being more tightly cooperative (or controlled) through his siblings. The two of them crossed paths more frequently, and this time, their bond became something unapologetically intimate, though still kept from public view. Their relationship became a quiet rebellion, a way to find solace while being drowned by decisions made above their heads. Neither of them asked for the roles they inherited, but in each other, they found a rare compassion and freedom. Even now, they continue to see one another — no longer as secretive as they once were, but still careful. Their relationship is unconventional, perhaps even unserious to some, but it works. Neither is in a rush to settle down. Sometimes, they both wish history had been kinder to them. But then again, they've never let fate stop them from trying. After all, it’s a rare privilege to love someone since childhood and still have eternity to figure it all out.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

[defuckingthrone-dot-com]

Hi! So I’ve been into shy nerdy Noah lately. Can you please write a one shot about Noah who’s really shy and geeky like he’s never had any womanly contact before, but turn it into a smut

Nerdy Noah you say? I got you! (And I'm sorry this took entirely too long to post) I hope you like it!

Tag List: @bloody-spades @chey-h

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please go here.

Smut below the cut!

Noah had spent most of his life mastering playing video games but zero-time mastering women.

For being a tall boy that was heavily tattooed much less the singer of a very prominent hardcore band you would guess that what you couldn't see from his twitch streams how he adorns the other side of the wall with comic book and action figures

But that started to change after he met you. his neighbor.

You had both crossed paths once or twice, just casual good morning or good afternoons, but nothing more.

So, he was just as surprised when one day you knocked on his door.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, I'm having trouble setting up my new tv on the wall, and I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't know who to call, I'm new here" you take a deep breath, "oh god I'm rambling. So would you be able to help me?"

There was no denying you thought he was handsome and the thought of having to ask for his help made you nervous but here you were.

"Yeah... yes. of course, no problem i will help you." he said a bit shy which was something you didn't expect all

Of course, you knew zero to nothing about it except for the fact that he lived next door to you.

With a smile you signaled him to follow you into your home. you showed him the living room where you had already unboxed the tv.

"Thank you once again for helping me, I don't know what I'm doing with this sort of thing," you said and gave him a sheepish smile.

All he could do was nod. You quickly realized that maybe he wasn't much of a talker as he got to work on setting up the tv on your wall.

You watched as he got to work and you tried to not ogle too much but something about him made your eyes be glued to him. His bright tattoos, his comically large hand. the way he focused on the task? you couldn't quite put your finger on it but there was something.

After about 40 minutes of you just staring at him while he worked, he finally finished.

"Uh, it's all done, tv is on the wall now, you can take a look" he said in quite possibly the smallest voice he could do. You find it a bit odd how he behaves. You would think that by the way he looks his confidence level would be out of this world, and he probably would have a line of girls waiting for his attention.

"It looks perfect thank you, i appreciate it so much, let me pay you for this, just let me grab m...." you started searching around for your wallet before he cut you off.

"Please don't. I don't. need to be paid.."

"Please? at least let me do something for you, i would feel horrible with you walking out of here and not getting nothing for your work"4

He just stared at you without saying anything.

The silence was making you a bit anxious, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Your girlfriend must be very lucky to have you and be able to do things like this."

He chuckles so subtlety that you barely noticed "I don't have a girlfriend actually"

"No way, you're tall, handsome and tattooed" you say without thinking and watch as he begins to turn a bit red.

Your feet started moving involuntarily towards him and in a matter of seconds you were standing in front of him.

Once again, he stayed silent just looking down at you with the softest bobba eyes you had ever seen.

You don't know what came over you but you grabbed his hand and felt the smallest twitch from him.

"You seem nervous, are you okay?"

"No... I mean yes... i mean, I've just never really been with this close to a girl before" he says with a nervous laugh

" How close?" Now you're intrigued.

"Like this" he looks down at your hand grabbing his.

"Oh" you say but don't make even the slightest attempt to move your hand. The little devil on your shoulder whispered into your ear to make a proposition that even you wouldn't dare say out loud but something came over you that you couldn't resist. "Okay you haven been close or touched by another woman?" you make a small pause not really expecting an answer. "Do you want to change that? I could help you out if you would like"

You could see the wheels turning inside his hand and before he could turn you down you started speaking again

“Ok I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.. i don't know what came over me” you nervously laugh

“Yes i want you to help me” he blurted out before you could continue

“You do? Okay yes i can do that” you guided him over to the sofa where you had him sit down and without a second thought you straddled him. “Is this okay?” you wanted to make sure that he was okay

He nodded quickly. “Please tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable” he nodded once more.

You started to let your hand roam, first up his tattooed arms, next down over his clothed chest. He made no move so you decided to make the initiative and grab his hand to place it directly on your ass. 

“It's okay Noah, you can touch me too.” he nodded and with the smallest movement he squeezed on tenderly. 

Your left hand found the hem of his shirt and tugged on it. “Can I take this off?” you asked in your sweetest voice.

“ye.. yes…” 

You fisted the hem of the shirt in your hand and raised it to pull it over his hand once it was off you threw it to the floor behind you.

As you looked down at his chest you started to trace all the intricate ink adorn it. “I love your tattoos, they look so good on you”

“Thank you, i love getting tattooed, my best friend is a tattoo artist and he has done most of them, if you want one i could let him know..” 

You chuckled at his response.

“i'm sorry i tend to yap when im nervous.” he says apologetically

“Don't be, I think it's cute.” you said, leaning into him, lips just inches from his. 

Hands still roaming you decided that for now you would leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth and leave a trail down from mouth to his jaw, down his neck and moving down his chest. 

You were now down on your knees in between his legs looking up to him. without breaking contact you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. You could feel the shivers he was getting. 

“Do you want me to stop Noah?” you asked once more to make sure he was really okay.

“¡No!” he blurted so fast. 

That's all you need to hear, you grabbed onto the waistband off his boxers and pulled it down to free his now throbbing cock. Pink at the tip and veins running down to the base,

This time you decided not to ask and moved your hand to touch it and with small up and down motions you started to stroke it. 

A smirk grew on your face as you saw Noah's eyes roll back.

“Does it feel good Noah? Do you want more?” 

“It feels so good oh god” he threw his head back “Please more”

You saw a few beads of precum on his tip and used it as lubrication to move up and down a bit faster. 

You moved your head down so your lips could meet the tip.You gave a quick lip while maintaining eye contact with.

“Will you be a good boy for me Noah? Will cum in my mouth?” Hearing yourself saying it outloud shocked you a bit , you never been like this with anyone else but the feeling of dominating Noah and teaching him new things had you on a high.

“Yes, I'll be a good boy! yes..” he said with heavy breathing.

With that you went to town. You grabbed his cock at the base and brought the tip up to your mouth again. You licked once, twice before you fully opened your mouth and put it in. You started slow at first, moving your head up and down and licking all around. 

As the minutes passed you started to set a faster pace, now going down past the tip and to the middle almost reaching the base. You moved your hand that was at the base in unison with your mouth and moved it along up and down. 

You can feel Noah starting to shake and if it wasn't for all of your senses being heighting you would have heard him saying he wouldn't last much longer.

With your free hand you gripped at his thigh which still had his pants midway. as you make sure now to reach the base of his cock with your mouth. One small gagging sound you were knowing hitting his pubic hair with your nose.

A few head bobs later you felt the string of cum hitting the back of your throat, slowing down the motion off your head you detached and made a swallow sound, your hand grabbing on to him once more to give him a few last strokes. 

“Wow, that was…incredible…” he said in his shy voice again “no women has ever touched me or like this” he said turning red again

You chuckled while whipping your mouth  and said “Yeah? Maybe i can help you out more often, we can make it into a few lessons” you finish with a wink

“I'd like that…yes!” he said without hesitation while buttoning his jeans again.