#there are a lot of flaws and quirks in these but

[ahqkas]

♯ TOO SWEET ; mattheo riddle

❛ i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3, you’re too sweet for me ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! in which mattheo recalled the two times you were too sweet for him (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! consummation of alcohol, lovesick mattheo, fluff, angst, a lot of my hcs for mattheo’s past (i wrote him the way i see him), lmk if i missed smth !!

NOTES! this is purely my view on mattheo’s character bc the hc i wrote suit him sm 😿😿 reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

ONCE A MAN FALLS IN LOVE, he finds himself drawn to not just the physical beauty of his muse, but for the essence of who the person truly is - their quirks, intelligence, kindness, and their unique way of seeing the world. Every interaction, every shared experience, every memory he brings, adds another layer to his adoration towards the love of his life.

His love for them is evident in the little things - the way he watches them when they aren't looking, the small gestures of thoughtfulness, the silent support during their dark moments of life. It's in the way he listens, truly listens, to the hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, always eager to offer his thoughts and ideas. This love manifests in his desire to be their anchor in times of storm, their cheerleader in moments of triumph, and their person in all the in-betweens. It is a love that values their independence and individuality, recognizing that they are their own person with their own journey, and yet, he longs to be a part of that journey, to walk alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows of life.

Mattheo Riddle was no different.

He marvels at your kindness, your sweetness, and the light you bring into his life. You are his muse, his inspiration, a spark of the goodness that stands in stark contrast to his own perceived flaws and insecurities he feels deep inside himself. He sees you as an angel, a pure and radiant being who somehow chose to share your life with him, despite his own imperfections and inner demons.

He sees you as an angel in a human form, who chose to live among the devils, just so he could feel the heavenly touch for the first and last time in all eternity.

He often wonders how he, with all his rough edges, hidden scars, and a past life without a happy memory, could be worthy of your love. He feels like a monster, haunted by past mistakes and burdened by the weight of his own fears and failings. You, on the other hand, are everything he aspires to be - kind, compassionate, and endlessly forgiving. Your presence in his life is a constant reminder of the beauty and grace that he lacks, and yet, your love makes him strive to be better, to rise above his darkness and become someone worthy of your affection.

In his heart, he knows that your love is transforming him, helping him to heal and grow. Your existence is a light that dispels his inner darkness, a reminder for him to cherish that even monsters like him can be loved. He clings to this, that your love is making him a better man, one day at a time.

01. THE PARTY

The Slytherin common room was full of shadows and flickering lights, transformed into a wild moment of freedom for the night. The music, a thundering beat that echoed off the stone walls, could be heard from miles away, yet no professor or ghost visited the common room to cancel the party. It was as if the ancient castle itself had granted this one night of freedom to its most cunning and ambitious students. The rhythmic thrum of bass notes and the infectious melody of the latest wizarding hits filled the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses.

Bodies moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying in sync with the music. The students had discarded their usual aloof demeanors and uniforms, lost in the euphoria and joy of the moment. Green and silver decorations adorned every surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights that hung from the ceiling like glowing jewels. Laughter rang out, high and clear, mingling with the deep, resonant hum of conversation.

In one corner, a group of seventh years huddled together, their heads bent close in a whisper, before erupting into loud laughter. Nearby, a couple twirled around each other, their bodies intertwining like dark waves, eyes locked in their private world amidst the chaos around them. The fireplace, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was now surrounded by students perched on its stone ledge, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night and alcohol.

Long tables filled with food and drink stretched along one wall, bearing the weight of a feast other students could be jealous of. Platters of magical meals, charmed to stay warm, smelled of aromas that mingled with the scent of butterbeer and stronger beverages. Bottles of firewhisky and elf-made wine were passed from hand to hand, each sip fueling the atmosphere more and more as drunken the students got. The alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues, transforming even the shyest students into party animals of the night.

The Slytherin common room had never felt so alive. Tonight, they were not just the students of Hogwarts; they were a family, united by their house and their understanding of what it meant to be a Slytherin.

Mattheo Riddle was one of those students who were enjoying themselves tonight. His breathing features were illuminated by the green lights as he leaned casually against a stone wall, a cup of firewhisky filled to the brim in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed perilously close to the edge with each of his slowed gestures, but Mattheo seemed unconcerned, clearly lost in the haze of alcohol. His dark curls, usually styled in the way that made uncountable amount of girls fall on their knees, now fell loose around his face as you watched from a close distance.

He was engaged in a drunken conversation with Theodore Nott, whose tall, lanky frame was the opposite to Mattheo's more athletic build. Theo's typically serious demeanor had softened, his features relaxed into a rare, genuine smile as he listened to Mattheo's ramblings with a giggle threatening to spill out from his lips. The two of them, often seen together, now looked like true brothers. It was almost scary how much they resembled family when they were drunk.

Mattheo's voice, rich and slightly slurred, carried over the music as he recounted a particularly outrageous story from his recent fight. Theodore threw his head back and laughed. It was clear to anyone how close those two boys were, drunk or sober.

"Can you believe he actually thought I was serious?" Mattheo snickered with a big grin stretching across his face, taking a swig from his cup, the whiskey burning a warm path down his throat. "I mean, I barely managed to keep a straight face!"

Theodore laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a menace, Riddle. One of these days, you're going to get expelled."

"Ah, but tonight isn't that night, mate," Mattheo replied with a slow wink, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To living dangerously and laughing in the face of consequences!"

They clinked their cups together, the sound barely audible over the throbbing beat of the music and you thought now was the best time to approach your boyfriend. 

Mattheo's brown irises scanned the crowd, catching a look of you as you pushed your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. The sight of you instantly brightened his expression and a genuine smile spread across his face. He felt a rush of emotions that the whiskey in his hand only intensified, each beat of his heart echoing with the certainty that what he held for you was pure love. The Slytherin straightened up, his posture shifting from the casual slouch of a carefree boy to the attentive stance of a man. Theodore noticed the change and a knowing smirk made its appearance on his lips as he stepped aside, giving the two of you a moment of privacy. 

"[Name]," your boyfriend called out, his voice full of warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you came closer. "There you are, love."

You beamed up at him, your eyes reflecting the party's enchanted lights, making them look like twin stars. "Having fun, are we?" you teased and the tone of your voice carried a playful match that always managed to make his heart skip a beat. 

"Only now that you're here," he replied. The world around you seemed to blur as he gazed down at you, all the noise and chaos fading into the background. "You make everything better."

Drunk on both the whiskey and his overwhelming affection, the boy's usual reservations melted away. He held you close, his hands resting on your waist as if anchoring himself to your presence. When he was sober or feeling down at heart, his love for you was often hidden beneath layers of stoicism and insecurity, but now, in this moment of happy drunkenness, it shone through. 

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips, enjoying the sweetness of the contact. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I'm going to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love."

 “You have no idea what you mean to me. I look at you and . . . it’s like you’re the sun and I’m just a planet orbiting around you, soaking up your light,” he continued without a break. The boy wanted to get every one of his words out as fast as humanly possible. To show you his hidden feelings he wasn't able to tell you before. “You’re my everything, [Name]. I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re so kind, so . . . good. And me? I’m just . . . I’m a mess, you know? A monster sometimes.” 

You shook your head lightly and took his hands into your own, enveloping him with your warmth. He was starting to get emotional, and you didn't need to have your boyfriend drunkenly mopping around. His mood changed like weather when alcohol got involved. “You’re not a monster, Mattheo. You’re human. We all have our demons.”

“But you,” he didn't allow you to finish your sentence before he spoke up again, his voice raw with sincerity, “you make me want to be better. For you. I see you, and I just want to be the man you deserve. I’m not always good at it, but I try. I try because you’re worth it.” 

You could see the glazed look in his eyes as he swayed slightly on the spot. He was rough around the edges, you couldn't deny the truth, but he was the sweetest boy when he managed to fall in love. Which wasn't exactly difficult, Mattheo fell in love easily. But when he did, it was worth everything. Mattheo was your sweet boy. “Love,” you said softly to him, your voice filled with gentle concern to the brim, “you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to slow down a little, okay?”

Mattheo blinked, giving you a lopsided grin, his expression a mix of boyish charm and pure happiness. “But I’m fine, [nickname]. I feel great. Better than great, actually. With you here, everything’s perfect.”

“I know you’re having a good time, but I don’t want you to feel terrible tomorrow. Let’s take a break from the firewhisky for now, alright?”

He pouted slightly, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were actually serious. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But only because you’re asking me.” You chuckled softly at his behavior, threading your fingers through his and gently leading him away from the dancing crowd. You navigated through the common room, moving towards a quieter corner of the space where a plush couch sat, inviting you both in with open arms. The room’s enchantments cast soft shadows on the walls, the flickering lights creating a soothing atmosphere.

“Here, sit down,” you instructed as you guided him to sit on the couch. Mattheo obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. You sat beside him, your hand never leaving his. You took the half-empty cup of whiskey from his hold, reaching for a glass of water on the table nearby instead and handing it to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Mattheo took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He took a long sip, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the alcohol he consumed. “You really do take good care of me, don’t you?” he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch as he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and exhaustion.

“Someone has to,” you replied playfully, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

As the night wore on, Mattheo felt a warmth spreading through him that was only partly due to the whiskey. It was the warmth of belonging, of being surrounded by friends who understood and accepted him, flaws and all. Despite his often rough exterior, he was deeply grateful for these moments, these stolen hours of joy in the corners of the Slytherin common room.

02 - THE MARK

The past has a profound power to shape a man, especially when that past is influenced by suffering at the hands of a father. 

For Mattheo Riddle, his family history was the darkest shadow of all the shadows that clung to him, a reminder of the pain and fear that had molded his entire life. Raised in a home devoid of warmth, where love was a foreign concept and cruelty was a daily reality, Mattheo had learned to build tall and thick walls around his heart. A shield to protect him from more hurt that would come his way. 

The orphanage was a harsh place, stripped of the luxuries the boy had unknowingly been born into. It was a world of strict discipline and a poor form of affection. The caretakers, overwhelmed and underfunded, had little patience for a child with such a notorious legacy. Mattheo grew up under the weight of whispers and sideways glances, the infamous name "Riddle" ensuring he was never just another child. The women of the orphanage knew his father, having taken care of him when he was around the same age as his son. What a wicked child Tom was. Mattheo was different because of that, marked, and this awareness shaped his formative years in ways he could barely comprehend.

As he grew older, the whispers about his family name became more pronounced. The children at the orphanage were cruel. “Monster,” they called him, creating the very fears that nested within his own heart. He began to internalize these taunts, seeing himself through the lens of his father's sins. The idea that he could be worthy of love seemed more and more distant, more of a fantasy that had no place in his reality. But the same idea of letting someone see past his defenses, of allowing someone to love him despite his flaws, seemed not only impossible but dangerous. For how could anyone love a monster, especially one crafted by his own father?

Despite this, Mattheo yearned for something more. He longed for the kind of love he had never known, a love that was gentle and kind, that saw past his scars and accepted him for who he was. But every time he felt himself getting close to someone, the fear surged up, a wave of doubt and self-loathing washed over him and forced him to retreat behind his walls again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Hogwarts had saved him. 

Mattheo Riddle’s first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were met with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. For the other students, he was a figure of whispered rumors, his infamous last name carrying with it a weight of fear and fascination. They had heard the stories of his father’s dark acts, of the legacy that haunted the halls of the castle like a ghost. But for Mattheo himself, Hogwarts represented a new beginning, a chance to escape the personal hell he called the orphanage and create his own path. The boy was no longer just another orphan. Here, he could be anything he wanted to be.

He wasn't deaf. The young boy could feel the weight of his father’s name bearing down on him like an invisible burden. And he wasn't blind either. He saw the way the other students looked at him, their eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They didn’t openly taunt him as the children in the orphanage had done, but he could sense the whispers and the wary glances that followed him wherever he went. For Mattheo, however, their fear was a source of power. He reveled in the attention, in the way his presence commanded respect, even if it was tinged with fear. He was finally someone. 

He excelled in his classes, his natural talent and restless ambition setting him apart from his peers. But it was on the Quidditch pitch that Mattheo truly came into his own. Flying high above the castle grounds, he felt a sense of freedom unlike anything he had ever known. With every twist and turn of his broomstick, he left behind the weight of his past and embraced the thrill of the present, making him feel like a bird. 

Six years had passed since Mattheo Riddle first walked through the grand doors of Hogwarts, a hopeful and determined young wizard with dreams of greatness he was so sure he'd achieve. But now, as he entered his sixth year at the renowned school of magic, the world around him had shifted irrevocably. The return of Lord Voldemort two years prior had plunged the wizarding world into chaos, and with it, Mattheo’s life had been destroyed once again.

Even among his fellow Slytherins, Mattheo felt like an outsider, a traitor to his own house and everything it stood for. He had once prided himself on his ambition and cunning, on his unwavering determination to succeed at any cost. But it didn't matter anymore. 

Mattheo sat alone in the quiet atmosphere of the Astronomy Tower, his gaze fixed on the night sky that sparkled with millions of stars. Each twinkling light seemed to mock him, making fun of the darkness that now stained his soul even more than before. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly, as if seeking some comfort in the fabric, but finding none.  

 On his left forearm, the Dark Mark burned like a brand upon his skin. It was a mark of shame, of betrayal, and every time he looked upon it, he felt a sickening sense of disgust and self-loathing. He had thought that by aligning himself with the Dark Lord, his father, he would finally be able to escape the shadows of his past, to prove himself worthy of the name Riddle and his father's presence. But now, he realized that he had only succeeded in plunging himself deeper into the deep hole. Even the orphanage was better than this. 

The footsteps behind him shattered the sweet silence, echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Mattheo tensed, his heart racing as he turned to face the intruder, steeling himself for whatever judgment or punishment awaited him. But as he turned, he was met not with the accusing glare of Filch or the triumphant sneer of a rival, but with the concerned gaze of a familiar face. It was you, with your eyes filled with worry as you approached him slowly, as if he'd disappear if you were a bit louder. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you alright?”

No, he wasn't alright. But he would be caught dead sooner than having you worry about him like that and more. 

He forced a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the emotions raging within him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. “Just . . . thinking.”

You stepped closer, taking a seat on the ground beside him. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mattheo. I know something’s been troubling you lately. You can talk to me.”

You were his angel, full of that purity and light he adored about you in a world darkened by his own sins. He longed to confide in you, to unburden himself of the guilt and shame that had consumed him since he had received the Dark Mark. But the fear of your rejection, of you seeing him for the monster he believed himself to be, held him back. It would shatter his heart, to see the pained expression on your face. 

“I . . .” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words, "there's something I need to show you." With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Mattheo finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth to you. For months, he had carried the burden of the dark secret alone, pushing you out and shutting you down in an attempt to shield and protect you from the darkness that was his father. But now, as he sat before you, his heart and his soul laid bare, he knew that he could no longer hide from the truth. The boy reached for the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers fumbling as he pushed the fabric up to reveal the twisted lines of the Dark Mark etched upon his skin. The sight of it made him recoil, a wave of shame washing over him as he exposed his deepest, darkest secret to the one person he had sworn to protect.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the mark, your palm flying to your mouth in disbelief. For a long moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing and the distant hum of the night owls. 

“I received this a few weeks ago," Mattheo confessed, his eyes avoiding yours. "When he decided I was good enough for him."

He felt your gaze on him, eyes searching his face for answers. He could see the confusion and concern written in your expression, but beneath it all, he saw something else - a flicker of understanding and acceptance that filled him with both hope and fear. How can someone be so good to someone like him? "I've been living with the Malfoys ever since," he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to explain himself. "But it's not what you think, [Name]. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a part of his plans, to be branded as one of his followers. But I had no choice. He made me do it."   

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, and he felt a desperate plea for forgiveness in his chest. He needed you to understand, to see past the mistakes that consumed him and into the depths of his soul where his love for you burned bright and true. The thought of losing you hurt him more than the Cruciatus curse ever could. 

“Forgive me. For shutting you out, for pushing you away. I was scared, I was ashamed . . . but I can't bear to keep this secret from you any longer. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means losing you forever." 

Your heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow as you gazed upon Mattheo, your sweet boy, sitting there before you with tears in his eyes and the weight of the world upon his shoulders. In that moment, all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and shield him from the pain and darkness that threatened to consume him. With shaky hands, you reached out to him, fingers brushing against the mark of his father's followers etched upon his skin. The sight of it filled you with a fit of fierce anger, but beneath it all, you saw the boy you so dearly loved - a boy who had been shaped by his past but who was so much more than the picture of his scars. 

"Love," you whispered into the dark, taking his face into your hands and wiping away those tears that managed to escape his control, "there's nothing to forgive. Nothing in this world could ever tear us apart, not even your father or that mark."

In that moment, Mattheo knew that he would do anything for you, that he would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness and safety. You were his light in the darkness, his angel in a world filled with demons, and he would cherish that for the time being his heart swelled at the thought of you. You were simply too sweet for him and you knew that Mattheo’s struggles were far from over, but for tonight, that was enough.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle series #mattheo riddle prompt #reader insert #x reader #slytherin x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction

[digi-lov]

Digimon Liberator Novel

[read on the official website] DEBUG.1-1 [Yuuki] - DEBUG.1-2 [HEAVY METAL PLAY] - DEBUG.2-1 [Winr] - DEBUG.2-2 [GOOD GAME]

First spoiler free, then more detailed including spoilers under cut

So the first 2 chapters of the Digimon liberator novel dropped last week! We don't exactly know how frequent it'll update, but most likely not as regular as the comic. First impressions on the main characters, I really like them. I think they are fun and interesting enough to drive the story. They don't feel like exact copies of previous characters, and make me exited for a fresh adventure!

As far as I could tell, the translation seems fairly good, but there was a mistranslation of a card effect. However the translation of TCG card effects can be a bit tricky, and the translators might not have known the official english wording. They also show the respective card right there, so it's easy to see what the effect should be, but it might be confusing to people who weren't already familiar with the cards.

Nevertheless I'm optimistic and looking forward to read more!

So now for a bit more detail

First off, I think they way they incorporate the player's tamer cards is really smart. A player get's their own blank tamer card, and can obtain various effects to add to it within the game, to customize their own tamer card to their play style. Nice! This way it doesn't feel like a weird 4th wall break for Yuuki to have a Yuuki Tamer card for example.

I really like Yuuki , immediately! She's fun, and she definitely has flaws and quirks to work on that'll make her interesting to watch grow. Her relationship with Impmon is nice too. Impmon is not exactly a serious character, but does want Yuuki to be a bit more serious, and recognize the weight of the situation. To an extend, Impmon wants Yuuki to take their partnership more serious in turn, I'd say. The way they talk to each other feels very familiar. You can tell they're close, not holding back complaining about the other. They bicker, but they also quickly drop the fight when needing to figure something out together.

Yuuki's Impmon, as most already know, get's a new evolution line: Punkmon, Loudmon, and HeavyMetaldramon. I love them! I like how it gives Yuuki and her Impmon more of an individual identity, than if they used a previously common Impmon line. The detail about Yuuki being a dancer, and vibing with the cool metal dragon is sweet too!

Also, I wonder if that Altea character is this girl from the poster? It's interesting that Impmon is not a fan of her...

Winr and FunBeemon's introduction was great too. Winr seems like a proud kid, without being feeling too stuck up. The story taking place after he's already known Yuuki for a year, really helps with his walls having started to come down already. I'm curious if his parents will be related to the in universe Digimon Franchise or Game Company in a way, or it they're just generic absent rich parents. Which, I don't think would take away from Winr's character if they are. I feel for him to want to escape from his home life into a virtual world. I love his relationship with FunBeemon. FunBeemon is very attentive to Winr's feelings, and cares a lot about him. And Winr doesn't get annoyed by it, but appreciates it, even though he doesn't quite know how to express it. The new evolutions for FunBeemon are also cool! I've like FunBeemon for a partner Digimon for a while, and I'm excited to see it finally happen!

I'm curious about Winr's real name too, assuming Winr is his username. Winr is a play on "winner", with his Japanese name サイキヨ Saikiyo being a play on 最強 (さいきょう) saikyou meaning "the best" or "the strongest". FunBeemon's nickname "Winnie" is キヨちゃん kiyo-chan in Japanese.

For anyone who's interested: Japanese first person pronouns

Yuuki uses the japanese first person pronoun あたし atashi, which is quite feminine, but as being too over the top girly is sometimes seen as disruptive, atashi also has a do-as-I-please kinda vibe sometimes. For example, it's used by Yuffie from FFVII. The even more cute-girly atai in turn is often used in media by very strong-willed, rough women, such as Plumeria fom Pokémon Sun&Moon, or the Gerudo women from the Legend of Zelda games. It can also be played straight as super cute too thoug, like with Vivian from Paper Mario TTYD.

Impmon uses オレ ore, which is a strong, proud, often masculine pronoun. In formal situations it would be considered rude, but it's normal for guys to use in a casual setting. Very rarely it is also used by super tough women in media, such as Kumatora from Mother 3, or Big Mom from One Piece. Eiichiro Oda mentioned himself knowing women who use ore, but this is quite uncommon and likely a modern developement. You go girls! Impmon also uses it in katakana, which gives it a bit more emphasis.

Winr uses 僕 boku, which is quite common for young boys, or more soft spoken men in casual settings. In media it is also occasionally used by girl characters that have a "tomboy" vibe, but also sometimes by female singers in their songs.

FunBeemon uses 私 watashi, which is technically a polite neutral pronoun, but using it in a casual setting has a feminine connotation.

PS: Sorry this took so long, I'm still very sick, and writing coherent sentences with okay spelling is diffcult.

#digimon #digimon tcg #digimon card game #digica #デジカ #digisafe #digimon Liberator #Yuuki #Winr #Impmon #FunBeemon #Digimon Liberator Side Story #Web novel #lov reads liberator

[pastafossa]

Friend #1 to me, yesterday: so I know you never played D&D but do you wanna join our game? We can teach you! You can make a character and their background and all that! I know you write so I figured you’d enjoy that. Me: ...give me the races I can play, the classes, and one day’s time. ~ One Day Later ~

Me, exploding into the Discord chat: OK SO I DID THE READING, HER NAME IS ZIRAS, ZI FOR SHORT, SHE IS AN AARAKOCRA, HER CLAN IS BASED OFF OF BEARDED VULTURES, SHE IS ALSO A DRUID, I HAVE A DETAILED BACK STORY THAT INCLUDES SEEKING VENGEANCE AGAINST POACHERS THAT SET HER CLAN’S FOREST ON FIRE SO SHE’S LIKE A VENGEANCE SEEKING BIRD BAMBI, I ALSO HAVE HER PERSONALITY PROFILE AND QUIRKS, SHE OCCASIONALLY WEIRDS SOME PEOPLE OUT CAUSE SHE LOVES TO EAT BONES AND SHE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND PERSONAL PROPERTY SO SHE’LL TAKE YOUR SHIT IF YOU LEAVE IT AND IT’S SHINY BUT SHE HATES POACHERS AND SLAVERY, SHE IS CHAOTIC GOOD, SHE CAN CHIRP TAVERN SONGS AND WILL SHARE HER BONES WITH YOU.

Friend #2 to Friend #1: didn’t you literally ask Pasta to join yesterday when she knew nothing about any of this Friend #1: she’s a writer, she just kinda does this

#i went from knowing nothing to knowing a lot more about a race of bird people and some very fuzzy understanding of D&D druidry #all in about a day #now I have Zi #and Zi has a detailed back story #with quirks and strengths and flaws #i still have no idea what i'm doing so i'm being walked through stats and all that but #as a writer trust me if you're like 'ok but the back story just go for it' OK GIVE ME LIKE ONE DAY AND I'LL HAVE IT ALL

[klara-rosa]

anyway therapy was good today! I was very frustrated after last week's session. It was super uncomfortable and I wanted to cry afterwards (I have literally only cried twice during my entire therapy career). I actually told my current therapist that last week sucked and made me angry and we talked about it and she told me she really wants me to tell her this information in the future. And in general, today was a looot better and more positive and uplifting. We did an exercise in gratefulness and it really helped to kinda flip the coin and make you look at your life from a dofferent angle. I have sooo many negative self-beliefs and rituals I've accumulated over the years and sometimes I forget that a huuuge part of every one of my days is literally dependant on my own attitude and outlook on life in general. So I'll try and incorporate that exercise in my day to day life. Honestly, I left with such a lighter heart today than I did the last couple of weeks and that makes me happy 🥺

#in general i have never had this kind of communication with a therapist ever where i actually feel like i can just be 100% honest #like during the exercise I had to wrote down the first thing that comes to mind looking back at the last five days #and then rate them from feeling kinda positive to neutral to bad #and for wednesday i wrote down therapy and i rated it as bad because it was the worst thing that happened last week #I just wanted to be honest even if it sounds weird or could potentially upset her #it wasn't bad because of my therapist or because i feel like she did a bad job #it just made me angry at myself because so many of my flaws and quirks i really dislike about myself came to the surface #so that's what i told her and she said that she's really glad i was this honest and that she thinks my bravery is really cool #I guess she is one of the only people ever i actually sometimes act brave around sometimes #Or honest i guess #anyway it felt a lot better this week and i think it made us understand each other better #she also said that she has the same view as me that sometimes therapy is uncomfy and hard and sucks #but that she doesn't want that to be the case always #that she would rather have our sessions to feel very uplifting and calming and strengthening #So that's nice... #personal #mental health #therapy diaries #also i can feel my english getting worse and worse everyday and i'm 🥲🥲🥲

[bookished]

HOW TO GIVE PERSONALITY TO A CHARACTER

Giving personality to a character is an essential part of character development in storytelling, whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or creating a character for a role-playing game. Here are some steps and considerations to help you give personality to your character:

Understand Their Backstory:

Start by creating a detailed backstory for your character. Where were they born? What were their childhood experiences like? What significant events have shaped their life? Understanding their past can help you determine their motivations, fears, and desires.

2. Define Their Goals and Motivations:

Characters often become more interesting when they have clear goals and motivations. What does your character want? It could be something tangible like a job or a romantic relationship, or it could be an abstract desire like happiness or freedom.

3. Determine Their Strengths and Weaknesses:

No one is perfect, and characters should reflect this. Identify your character's strengths and weaknesses. This can include physical abilities, intellectual skills, and personality traits. Flaws can make characters relatable and three-dimensional.

4. Consider Their Personality Traits:

Think about your character's personality traits. Are they introverted or extroverted? Shy or outgoing? Kind or selfish? Create a list of traits that describe their character. You can use personality frameworks like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator or the Big Five Personality Traits as a starting point.

5. Give Them Quirks and Habits:

Quirks and habits can make a character memorable. Do they have a specific way of speaking, a unique fashion style, or an unusual hobby? These details can help bring your character to life.

6. Explore Their Relationships:

Characters don't exist in isolation. Consider how your character interacts with others. What are their relationships like with family, friends, and enemies? These relationships can reveal a lot about their personality.

7. Show, Don't Tell:

Instead of explicitly telling the audience about your character's personality, show it through their actions, dialogue, and decisions. Let the reader or viewer infer their traits based on their behavior.

8. Create Internal Conflict:

Characters with internal conflicts are often more engaging. What inner struggles does your character face? These can be related to their goals, values, or past experiences.

9. Use Character Arcs:

Consider how your character will change or grow throughout the story. Character development is often about how a character evolves in response to the events and challenges they face.

10. Seek Inspiration:

Draw inspiration from real people, other fictional characters, or even historical figures. Study how people with similar traits and backgrounds behave to inform your character's actions and reactions.

11. Write Dialogue and Inner Monologues:

Writing dialogue and inner monologues from your character's perspective can help you get inside their head and understand their thought processes and emotions.

12. Consider the Setting:

The setting of your story can influence your character's personality. For example, a character who grows up in a war-torn environment may have a different personality than one raised in a peaceful, affluent society.

13. Revise and Refine:

Don't be afraid to revise and refine your character as you write and develop your story. Characters can evolve and change as the narrative unfolds.

Remember that well-developed characters are dynamic and multi-faceted. They should feel like real people with strengths, weaknesses, and complexities. As you write and develop your character, put yourself in their shoes and think about how they would react to various situations. This will help you create a compelling and believable personality for your character.

#writeblr #writing advice #creative writing #writerscommunity #writer problems #writing resources #writing community #writers on tumblr #writers block #the writer struggle #writing tips #writers #uservolkova

[unboundprompts]

How to write about someone’s appearance? Their physique, styles, face , clothes,?

How to Describe a Character's Appearance

-> dabblewriter.com

-> link to Character Description Prompts

Avoid Over-Describing

Overloading readers with too much information can be overwhelming and make your characters feel flat and one-dimensional. Focus on the details that are the most important to the story and the characters themselves.

If the character's appearance is not central to the story, then you may only need to give a basic description. If it plays a significant role, you may want to go into more detail. Always keep the purpose of your physical descriptions in mind.

Show Don't Tell

Don't blatantly state every little thing about your character's appearance, but rather show it through their actions and behaviors.

example: If they are tall, show that through their actions. They have to duck to get under a doorway, they help someone reach the top shelf, etc.

Include Personality Traits

A character's personality is what makes them memorable. Consider their motivations, values, beliefs, and quirks and give them a well-defined personality.

Avoid Stereotypes

Create characters that are more than just their cultural, racial, ethnic, or gender identity. Give them unique interests, hobbies, and personalities. Allow them to have flaws, contradictions, and diverse perspectives.

External Features

External features include a character's height, weight, body type, and general appearance. You can describe their skin color, hair color, eye color, and any distinctive features like freckles or scars. This type of description gives the reader a basic understanding of what the character looks like, which is helpful in creating a mental image.

Clothing

Describing the type of clothing they wear, including the colors, patterns, and how they fit, can reveal a lot about a character’s personality and social status.

For example, a character who wears tailored suits and expensive shoes might be a little snobby and concerned with their image, while a character who wears ripped jeans and t-shirts might be casual and relaxed.

Facial Features

Facial features can be used to give the reader a more in-depth understanding of a character's personality and emotions. You can describe their smile, the way they frown, their cheekbones, and their jawline. You can also describe their eyebrows, the shape of their nose, and the size and shape of their eyes, which can give the reader insight into their emotions.

Body Language

Body language can be used to give the reader an understanding of a character's emotions and personality without the need for dialogue. Describing the way a character stands, walks, or gestures can reveal a lot about their confidence level, mood, and attitude.

For example, a character who slouches and avoids eye contact is likely to be shy, while a character who stands up straight and makes direct eye contact is likely to be confident.

Words to Describe Various Features

Head and face

Oval: rounded, elongated, balanced, symmetrical

Round: full, plump, chubby, cherubic

Square: angular, defined, strong, masculine

Heart: pointy, triangular, wider at the temples, narrow at the chin

Diamond: angular, pointed, narrow at the forehead and jaw, wide at the cheekbones

Long: elongated, narrow, oval, rectangular

Triangular: angular, wide at the jaw, narrow at the forehead, inverted heart-shape

Oblong: elongated, rectangular, similar to oval but longer

Pear-shaped: narrow at the forehead, wide at the jaw and cheekbones, downward-pointing triangle

Rectangular: angular, defined, similar to oblong but more squared

Facial features

Cheeks: rosy, plump, gaunt, sunken, dimpled, flushed, pale, chubby, hollow

Chin: pointed, cleft, rounded, prominent, dimpled, double, weak, strong, square

Ear: large, small, delicate, flapped, pointed, rounded, lobeless, pierced

Eyes: deep-set, angled, bright, piercing, hooded, wide-set, close-set, beady, slanted, round, droopy, sleepy, sparkling

Forehead: high, broad, wrinkled, smooth, furrowed, low, narrow, receding

Jaw: strong, square, defined, angular, jutting, soft, weak, chiseled

Lips: full, thin, chapped, cracked, puckered, pursed, smiling, quivering, pouty

Mouth: wide, small, downturned, upturned, smiling, frowning, pouting, grimacing

Nose: hooked, straight, aquiline, button, long, short, broad, narrow, upturned, downturned, hooked, snub

Eyebrows: arched, bushy, thin, unkempt, groomed, straight, curved, knitted, furrowed, raised

Hair

Texture: curly, straight, wavy, frizzy, lank, greasy, voluminous, luxurious, tangled, silky, coarse, kinky

Length: long, short, shoulder-length, waist-length, neck-length, chin-length, buzzed, shaven

Style: styled, unkempt, messy, wild, sleek, smoothed, braided, ponytail, bun, dreadlocks

Color: blonde, brunette, red, black, gray, silver, salt-and-pepper, auburn, chestnut, golden, caramel

Volume: thick, thin, fine, full, limp, voluminous, sparse

Parting: center-parted, side-parted, combed, brushed, gelled, slicked back

Bangs: fringed, side-swept, blunt, wispy, thick, thin

Accessories: headband, scarf, barrettes, clips, pins, extensions, braids, ribbons, beads, feathers

Body

Build: slender, skinny, lean, athletic, toned, muscular, burly, stocky, rotund, plump, hefty, portly

Height: tall, short, petite, lanky, willowy, stocky, rotund

Posture: slouching, upright, hunched, stiff, relaxed, confident, nervous, slumped

Shape: hourglass, pear-shaped, apple-shaped, athletic, bulky, willowy, curvy

Muscles: defined, toned, prominent, ripped, flabby, soft

Fat distribution: chubby, plump, rounded, jiggly, wobbly, flabby, bloated, bloated

Body hair: hairy, smooth, shaven, beard, goatee, mustache, stubble

Weight: light, heavy, average, underweight, overweight, obese, lean, skinny

Body language: confident, nervous, aggressive, submissive, arrogant, timid, confident, relaxed

Body movements: graceful, clunky, fluid, awkward, jerky, smooth, agile, rigid

Build

Muscular: ripped, toned, defined, well-built, buff, brawny, burly, strapping

Athletic: fit, toned, agile, flexible, energetic, muscular, athletic, sporty

Thin: skinny, slender, slim, lanky, bony, gaunt, angular, wiry

Stocky: sturdy, broad-shouldered, compact, muscular, solid, robust, heavy-set

Overweight: plump, chubby, rotund, heavy, portly, corpulent, stout, fleshy

Fat: overweight, overweight, rotund, heavy, bloated, tubby, round, fat

Lean: lanky, slender, skinny, thin, wiry, willowy, spare, underweight

Larger: large, heavy, hefty, substantial, solid, overweight, portly, rotund

Skin

Texture: smooth, soft, silky, rough, bumpy, flaky, scaly, rough

Tone: fair, light, pale, dark, tan, olive, bronze, ruddy, rosy

Complexion: clear, radiant, glowing, dull, blotchy, sallow, ruddy, weathered

Wrinkles: deep, fine, lines, crow's feet, wrinkles, age spots

Marks: freckles, age spots, birthmarks, moles, scars, blemishes, discoloration

Tone: even, uneven, patchy, discolored, mottled, sunburned, windburned

Glow: luminous, radiant, healthy, dull, tired, lifeless

Tautness: taut, firm, loose, saggy, wrinkles, age spots, slack

Condition: healthy, glowing, radiant, dry, oily, acne-prone, sunburned, windburned

Style

Clothing: trendy, stylish, fashionable, outdated, classic, eclectic, casual, formal, conservative, bold, vibrant, plain, ornate

Fabric: silk, cotton, wool, leather, denim, lace, satin, velvet, suede, corduroy

Colors: bright, bold, pastel, neutral, vibrant, muted, monochrome

Accessories: jewelry, hats, glasses, belts, scarves, gloves, watches, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings

Shoes: sneakers, boots, sandals, heels, loafers, flats, pumps, oxfords, slippers

Grooming: well-groomed, unkempt, messy, clean-cut, scruffy, neat

Hair: styled, messy, curly, straight, braided, dreadlocks, afro, updo, ponytail

Makeup: natural, bold, minimal, heavy, smokey, colorful, neutral

Personal grooming: clean, fragrant, unkempt, well-groomed, grooming habits

Overall appearance: put-together, disheveled, polished, rough, messy, tidy

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #ask box prompts #how to write #how to describe a character's appearance #how to describe a character #character description #writing help #writing tip #writing tips and tricks #writing advice

[evilminji]

*evil grin of The Ponderings™*

You know who DEFINITELY would have Unfinished Business?

Heroes. Professional "If I could just MOVE, just fight a BIT LONGER, save ONE MORE PERSON" Heroes. It's the ultimate and unending Unfinished Business. To protect people. Not just their friends, their co-workers, but the innocent people around them.

That kid, stuck crying in the rubble.

That business man, screaming in pain, caught in the cross fire.

The People NEED them. They SWORE. Their very SOULS burn with the NEED to help. But... the flesh gave out. Injuries. Age. Quirk overuse. They knew... they KNEW, this was not a safe line of work... but... but! Please! Just one more person! Why can't they just make their breaking, dying, bodies MOVE!

Of course they refuse to move on.

They are needed HERE.

Yet? Their hands pass through. Their voices do not reach. A hell of their own, unknown, making. They can't let go, but they can't HELP either. There isn't enough Ectoplasm here. The walls of their reality overly patched up, since that unfortunate leak a few centuries back.

After all, the Zone had dumped near lethal quantities of unfiltered Ecto into the atmosphere. They're STILL dealing with the mutations and fall out, aren't they? At least, they are according to the Zone. (Wtf is a "Quirk"?) And, yeah, someone should PROBABLY do an assessment on the ecological recovery of the Reality. But like?

Do you have any idea how few people have an Obsession for stuff like that? Wait your turn! The list is long and you're not fuckin special, okay? The agents are BUSY.

Now, you might wonder? Wait. If they aren't moving on. Are DEFINITELY Ghosts. Starving as they are. Refusing to die as they may be. Wouldn't... Wouldn't that leave the whole ass area around their Reality an ecological dead zone? If it got over patched and no Ghosts LEFT, thus noticed, and started to try and work on it from the outside? Assuming the COULD?

Yeah. Yeah it would be!

It's called the "New Wastes"!

There used to be some cool Lairs around there. But there was a turf dispute. Someone DID something. Punched a HOLE. And everyone re-died. It was fixed but never quite re-healed. Portals... don't show up there? For some reason? Meh. Wanna brawl?

No. Danny's curious. He wants ANSWERS.

It's his fatal flaw.

Well... that and his inability to keep his mouth shut. But he likes to think he's funny. So... off he goes! And MAN! Does it feel funky out there! Weird textures. Mmmm, Don't Like THAT ™. It's probably a King thing? The Zone here... FEELS wrong.

Not... the way it's SUPPOSED to be shaped, if that makes sense?

And? It feels... if you sorta squint? Like... a LOT of people AREN'T where they should be. But aren't gonna leave until they're READY. Ooof. Great. Someone messed up again. Why does he KEEP FINDING bits and pockets that need straightening out? Unruffling? It's like he has to keep smooth out this giant peice of fabric with all these stains on it. Clean the messes on it.

He feels more like a maid then a King.

Maybe he is?

Pretty sure he's more of a nanny, since the Zone is more of a whiny yet excitable toddler then anything else. Alright, let him in. And fix... whatever THAT is.

So he steps into the Reality and? Huh. Japan. Neat. He always meant to go, never got around to it. Why is that man an otter?

.......oooohohooo, this place was HELLA fucked up by Ectoplasm, wasn't it? This is multi generational exposure. It's in the air. The water, ground, buildings. But stale to the point of stagnation. That can't be healthy. At least a few people he sees have developed ecto-resistance, thank the Ancients.

Danny discovers there are? "Superheroes"? Or just... heroes, apparently. They sell shampoo lines and athletic gear. Villians are petty criminals and psychopaths. All lumped together. He gets fuckin CHASED by the COPS and half the cities spandex patrol, called a "villian" (you know, like the purse snatchers and the DUDE WHO TRIED TO OPEN FIRE ON A CROWD) for flying around trying to assess the situation. Not speaking Japanese fast enough.

Soooorry! He TRIED to answer your confusing barked demands! This isn't his native language! He's translating through Ghost Speech! He knows it sounds unsettling to the living! It's the best he's GOT, man! (Asshole)

He escapes, obviously, because he's not 14 anymore. And honestly? He could top 200mph or so AT 14. He's only gotten faster. Intangible flight means no wind drag, motherfuckers~! OR need to dodge buildings! HA. Try to follow him through THE GROUND!

A few Blob sucked (to remove the ectoplasm) bits of treasure later? And he leaves a pawn shop with local currency. Thank YOU shady pawn shop! Ask him no questions, he'll tell you not lies. Enjoy Pariah's gold.

He does tourist things. Buy foods he's never tried, wanders around. Sees what's needed. Noticed a lot of people struggle with some aspect of the ecto-mutations brought on by the extreme Limnality. Need accessibility aids.

.....well, he IS a Fenton. His parents would disown him on the SPOT if he left with out at least TRYING to help. So he tracks down one the local ghosts. He'll need a guide or two.

He? VASTLY underestimates how desperate a sea of Obsession Starved Hero and Vigilante Ghosts will act, the INSTANT, they realize not only someone can see them... but it's? Their "Boss"? They aren't sure HOW they know that. But they DO. It's THE Boss. Here to help them! Asking for HELP ™ from THEM!

Yes

YES THEY CAN DO THAT

He gets swarmed. Hundreds of ghosts fighting over each other. Shouting. Turning on each other like rabid animals. All worn down and ragged by their Obssesion starvation. He's forced to shout over them.

And? Holy shit, these are only the ones from THIS CITY, too.

Thank Zone, again, he's no longer 14. That he has friends who are Rulers ™ that taught him HOW to Rule. To delegate. Pretend he TOTALLY knows what he's doing. That every action is on purpose.

It takes less then two hours, with all the experienced Unground Heros help, to make himself a Real Boy and buy a building. Put himself into the correct databases. He officially has licenses for things he's never studied. Is a tax paying citizen. Even belongs to several local clubs.

Over the next few days? He sets up his new... oi! Quickdraw! What're they called again? Right. "Lifestyle Support Company" which? Is a dumb name. But, Fenton Works is Fenton Works. Somehow he always kinda knew he'd be inherenting. It's in a cruddy part of town and the prices are cheap as he can safely get um.

He already had two customers, even though half the building isn't even fully set up. Which? I mean... he gets it. Poor guy. Knives for hands. Sharp ones too. The other guy's Obsession made him emotionally react to colors and like three different ones were ruining his life. So, hand Prosthetics controllable by knives and color filtering wrap around glasses.

Took him a lunch break or two.

Changed THEIR lives.

Suddenly his shop is packed. Schedule screaming for relief. And the ghosts? Getting more tangible by the day. See, his work shop? Ecto proofed. Let's him relax. But it ALSO let's him radiate fresh, clean, Ecto out into the air. And as King? With a direct line to The Zone? He puts out a lot.

There start to become Sightings.

People who SWEAR they saw long dead Heros out of the corner of their eyes. Dead vigilantes. That was who through that bottle. Who tripped that thug at just the right moment. Who unlocked the door. The SWEAR. They aren't crazy!

And... at first? Brushed off. Stress does a lot of crazy thing to a person, ma'am. But? How do you brush off, making eye contact with your dead best friend? Your old mentor on the other roof? That vigilante, who you WATCHED bleed out? Can you brush them off... when a vigilante from the dawn of quirks, punches some two bit villian on live television? Calls the Heros on the scene gloryhounds? Goverment dogs?

Runs from the cops and vanishes into thin air?

When this shit KEEPS HAPPENING?

Is spreading?

Are... are you supposed to arrest them for illegal vigilantism? How? They're THE proto-Heros! You don't want your name tied to that! The HPSC is furious. The goverment is uneasy. There are like... 6 dudes and a lady, openly stalking some kid in UA. Trying to mentor him. He looks moments away from a nervous breakdown.

Us too, kid. Us too.

All? While Danny? Is just sitting in his lil shop. Tinkering. Not HIS problem. Gotta let the ghosts here get it out of their system. Get their Obsession's full. Then it's all aboard the Zone Train. He's just here to make sure no one does anything "Too Crazy".

What's HIS definition of "too crazy"?

Wouldn't YOU like to know, weather boy~☆

@hdgnj @lolottes @nerdpoe @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @the-witchhunter @legitimatesatanspawn

#dp x bnha #minji's writing #just here for moral support au #ghostly Heroics au

[sluttywoozi]

Rating: M | WC: ~8.2k (mostly smut)

Geonwoo's your best friend and there's nothing you wouldn't do for him. Including doing him.

Warnings: i say geonwoo’s not into guys but it’s just for the purposes of this fic he can do whatever/whoever he wants, virgin!geonwoo, lots of consent checks, mention of sti testing and pregnancy prevention, marking, pussydrunk!geonwoo, bigdick!geonwoo, fingering, oral f rec., multiple orgasms, condomless sex, creampie, lost the plot ten pages into the smut so sorry

Reader Notes: has a vagina and breasts, smaller than geonwoo (height and hands)

“You want me to do what?” You question, alarm bells ringing in your head.

“We want you to take Geonwoo’s virginity,” Woojin replies cheerfully, rubbing his knees and punctuating his sentence with a smile.

“Geonwoo, is this true?” You speak slowly, dragging your eyes from Woojin’s to Geonwoo’s.

“Mm,” he nods quickly, his lips pressed together and his hands wringing in his lap.

“Okay… Why me? And why now?”

Woojin opens his mouth but you shoot him a glare to cut him off, needing to hear it from Geonwoo himself. You raise your eyebrows when he doesn’t speak and he takes a quick breath, holding it like he’s steeling himself.

“Well, uh,” he looks around, avoiding your gaze, “I trust you the most, besides Woojin. And I’m not into guys, I think, so it can’t be him.”

“And as for why now, he-,”

“Woojin, let him-,”

Geonwoo steps in before you and Woojin can get into it, used to the way you bicker after all these months with the two of you.

“I’m turning 26 soon. I’m not embarrassed about still being a virgin but I don’t want it to become a thing, you know?”

You nod, unable to find a flaw in his logic.

“And this is a group discussion because…”

“Well, Geonwoo couldn’t ask you by himself, could he?”

“Couldn’t he?” You respond, a doubtful quirk to your brow.

Geonwoo purses his lips and shakes his head, “I really couldn’t. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for weeks now.”

Woojin nods in confirmation next to him, his eyes serious and his mouth shut, for once.

There’s a lot for you to consider before you can give them, him, your answer. You’ve been friends with Geonwoo for a long time now, and you’re not sure you’re willing to risk complicating the relationship you have with sex. There’s also the responsibility that comes with being someone’s first, the desire to make it good for them, to take care of them.

“Do I have to decide now?”

They both rush to shake their heads, a long stream of, “No, no, no,” leaving Woojin.

“Take as much time as you need,” Geonwoo adds with wide eyes and a small, sweet smile.

You’re honestly not sure why it wasn’t an immediate no, and you have some things to think about now that you know at least some part of you wants to do it.

You stand, wanting to excuse yourself from this bizarre situation so you can do some reflecting. They both rise when you do, staying on their feet until you leave the room. You can feel Geonwoo’s eyes on you as you walk away, and you can’t say it’s a feeling you dislike.

It’s official, you’re going insane.

Ever since Woojin and Geonwoo planted the idea of you taking Geonwoo’s virginity in your mind, it’s all you can think about.

He’s the first thing on your mind when you wake and the last thing before you fall asleep, and even in your dreams, you’re still thinking about him.

Him and his big brown eyes and his undercut and his bulging muscles and his soft, sweet, reserved demeanor.

Him and how he would act in the bedroom, how he would touch you, how he would talk (if he would, and that’s a big if).

You’ve seen him let loose before, seen him fight for both his life and yours, but you’ve never seen him like this. You’re starting to fear that’s something you’ll have to fix.

“See you tomorrow, mom,” Geonwoo calls out the door, watching his mother walk down the hallway to her own apartment and get safely inside. He used to escort her to and from her door until she showed him the taser Mr. Oh got her. He backed off then, but still likes to make sure she gets in safe.

Returning to the dirty dishes in the kitchen, he stands at the sink, elbow deep in hot, soapy water and trying not to think about what he asked you last week.

Well, what he and Woojin asked you.

You’ve been his friend for years now. He first met you when you started working at his mom’s cafe, he grew closer to you when you moved into the spare bedroom, and now he’s terrified that he’s ruined everything.

You’re still normal enough around him, maybe zoning out a little more often and maybe a tiny bit short-tempered, but fine otherwise. It could be an act though, a facade you put up while you decide how to tell him no and also that you’re quitting the cafe and leaving town and never coming back. That would break his heart, and his mom’s too, and he prays he’s just overthinking.

His hands sweep around to search for more dishes but find nothing, so with a sigh, he lets the sink drain. Now he’ll have to find something else to keep his mind occupied, not that it was working very well. He could go train, but he’s already worked out today and he has a feeling he’ll be experiencing the wrath of Mr. Oh if he pushes himself any further. He’d like to avoid that, so-

“Geonwoo? Can we talk?”

Oh god.

He keeps his back turned, one of the only signs of disrespect he’s ever shown you, but he can’t stand to see the apologetic look on your face as you tell him no (and that you’re leaving forever, never to be seen or heard from again, all because of him).

“Look at me, please.”

He glances at you over his shoulder, long enough to see your open expression and the kindness in your eyes. You don’t seem as weighed down as you have lately, and he fully turns to face you, trying to hide how nervous he feels.

Folding his hands behind his back so he can drum his fingers on the counter unseen, he waits for you to speak.

“I was just thinking about what you asked me, I mean, I’ve been thinking about it all week but,” you shake your head like you need to clear it before continuing, “I’ll do it.”

Your last three words don’t register, and the meaning of them doesn’t either. He’s stuck on you saying you’ve been thinking about it, this, all week. He’s been thinking about it too, thinking about you, and it makes him feel a lot better to know you’ve been doing the same.

“Did you hear me?” You ask, confused at his lack of reaction.

“I heard you, you said you’ve been thinking about it. That’s good,” he assures you, his hands stilling as he leans against the counter.

“Geonwoo, I also said that I would do it.”

“Do what?” He asks, wondering if he can go with you to do whatever it is.

“Do it. You. Take your virginity.”

His heart thuds, squeezes, then stops.

“You will?”

He’s glad he was braced against something because his knees feel weak and his head is spinning. He’s been trying not to think about you in that way since before he asked you to do this, and now that you’ve agreed, he just knows his thoughts will be running rampant.

“Yes, I will. But we’ve gotta work out the logistics,” you remind him, rounding the island to lean against the counter next to him.

Your sudden proximity makes him straighten up before the scent of you soothes him, the familiar blend bringing him comfort like it always does.

“Logistics like… when?”

“That and whether or not we’re using a condom and we should probably get tested first and-,” you stop yourself before taking your phone from your pocket and typing rapidly, “I need to write this down.”

There’s so much more to consider than Geonwoo thought, but he won’t let it deter him. The two of you have always made a good team, and this won’t be any different, he’s sure.

Geonwoo and you spend the next few days planning. His birthday is next month and you decide together to set it as an informal deadline, though he’s sure it won’t be the end of the world if he loses his virginity at 26 instead of 25.

He’s telling Woojin about the details you’ve decided on when Woojin cuts him off.

“Bro, where’s the romance? Where’s the passion?” He says, slapping a hand on the table to emphasize his words. “This is all so… technical. This is why you shouldn’t be doing this without me.”

“Without you? You won’t be there, will you?”

“Tch, no, you know what I mean,” he grumbles before launching into the story of his own first time.

Geonwoo contemplates the rest of Woojin’s point, but honestly, things with you lately have been feeling romantic.

You’ve been sitting alone in his bedroom, close enough to whisper so that nobody else hears you, and talking about how exactly you’ll have sex with each other. He knows that doesn’t sound too romantic, but to him, it is.

Geonwoo loves planning, and he loves alone time, and he loves how you sound when you speak all low and secretive and logical. He doesn’t love talking, but luckily for him, you do the majority of it and the most he has to do is listen and respond, and he likes doing that too.

As for passion, he’s been feeling… plenty… of that. Too much, probably.

When you’re around, you’re all he can focus on. Anyone else can be in the room and he’ll be looking at you, talking to you, listening to you. Except for Woojin and his mom, of course, but even then, he’s got you in the back of his mind.

When you’re gone, he can’t stop thinking about you; where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with. If you’re with a guy. A guy who’s better with words than he is, a guy who’s experienced, a guy who hasn’t put you through so much.

A guy who isn’t him.

But then Geonwoo reminds himself that you love him (platonically) and find him attractive enough (physically) to have sex with him, and he feels better.

“Dude, are you even listening to me right now? What did I just say? Hm?” Woojin questions, offense clear in his tone and his furrowed eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t,” he ducks as Woojin takes a fake swipe at him. To be fair, he’s heard this story before, and he has something important to think about: you.

(He makes it up to Woojin later with all you can eat pork belly buffet).

Today’s the day.

Well, tonight’s the night.

You went over to Geonwoo and Woojin’s place around 6 PM dressed in your largest t-shirt and your comfiest yoga pants with an overnight bag in hand. Woojin is sleeping at Mr. Moon’s so you have the place to yourselves, and you both got tested three days ago with negative results. You discussed using condoms, but considering that you have protection in place and it’s Geonwoo’s first time, you’ve decided to skip them. Geonwoo already had everything prepared: another set of sheets at the ready, multiple options for movies to watch, and an order for an enormous amount of takeout.

You’re waiting on it now, sitting next to him on the couch and feeling a slight sense of awkwardness in the air. He’s being particularly shy, speaking only when asked a question but listening with wide, fascinated eyes, and you have to admit, it’s doing it for you.

You worried that you would feel some sort of hang up about being Geonwoo’s first, but when all the history is taken away, you’re two consenting adults that apparently want to have sex. So why shouldn’t you?

The doorbell rings before you can remind yourself of said history, and Geonwoo immediately shoots to his feet to answer it. He thanks (and tips) the delivery person quickly and returns with the food, carefully ripping the bag open to spread everything out on the coffee table.

The two of you make fast work of the takeout, bar the containers you decided to save for later, and clean up the mess left behind. Dinner breaks the ice, allowing you and Geonwoo to talk as friends/people who might become more.

As the night progresses, you watch his nerves grow again. It’s after he’s wiped his hands on his  joggers for the fifth time that you pause the movie and turn on the couch to face him. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights and you wish you could placate him, but you think it may be better to just rip off the bandaid.

“Do you still wanna do this?” You ask gently, bringing a hand to his shoulder and squeezing. You’re about to mindlessly squeeze again, his muscles feeling firm but squishy somehow under your fingers, when he nearly shouts, “Yes!” and shrinks, making you assume his volume was unintended. You love his enthusiasm though, and the fact that you know you can ask him what he wants and he’ll tell you. Or at least answer yes or no questions.

“Do you want to go to your bedroom now, then? I feel like you’re just getting more nervous the longer we wait.”

He nods in response and springs to his feet, holding a hand out to help you from the couch and tug you to his room. It’s always tidy in there but you can see he’s made an extra effort in the candles dotted around the room and the oil diffuser sitting on his dresser. He leads you to his bed, letting you sit first before settling closer to you than he typically would. His hands stay clasped together in his lap, and it occurs to you that you may need to tell him what to do.

You usually aren’t one to be in charge when it comes to sex, but you’ll do anything for Geonwoo and this obviously counts as anything. You can call the shots tonight if that’s what he needs, and hopefully you’ll help him build up some confidence for whoever he’s with next. You can also pretend your heart doesn’t flip in your chest whenever you think of there being a next.

Geonwoo shifts next to you on the bed, his hands resting on his thighs and his form tense. You have to figure out how to unwind him, how to make him feel safe with you, and you feel like the first barrier to cross is his reticence with touching you. He’s always kept himself at arms’ length, enough so that when you saw how he and Woojin behaved, you honestly felt kind of jealous. He’s never had that ease with you, and you used to live with him.

At least you have the opportunity to change that now. Your hand only shakes a little bit as you reach out to cover Geonwoo’s. He jumps when you come into contact with him, but quickly opens his hands to accept yours. You can’t help but note how long and calloused his fingers are, your mind running to how they would feel on you and, dare you say it, in you.

“We can go slow,” you promise, “And I can guide you, if you want.”

“Yes, I think that would be good,” Geonwoo agrees with a squeeze of your hand. “Eventually, I would like to try to… I don’t know how to say it, be in charge?”

“We can do that,” you nod, heat flooding your stomach at the thought of Geonwoo taking the reins, holding you down, fucking you how he wants. You know there may be some fumbling before you get there, but by God you hope you do. “Why don’t we start with a kiss?”

Geonwoo hums and leans forward almost imperceptibly, just enough for you to crane your neck and press your lips to his. You keep it gentle, slow, getting him used to you with little pecks and small sucks. He finds your rhythm faster than you expect, timidly kissing you back and bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

You try to push down the giddy shiver that rises at him touching you so delicately, but a little shake still makes its way through your shoulders. Geonwoo notices, of course, exhaling a laugh against your lips that sparks a smile in return, and soon enough, you’re both grinning too wide to kiss anymore.

“This is kinda fun,” you breathe, pulling back to brush some errant hair out of his eyes.

“It is,” he agrees, smiling shyly and grazing your cheekbone with his thumb. “Should we keep going?”

You nod and lean in again, locking your lips with his and swallowing a sigh at the plushness of them. Gently, you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip, waiting for his mouth to open before just barely gliding it against his in a tentative motion. He gasps, his lips parting further and his tongue tangling with yours as his hand shifts to cradle your jaw. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck and tilt your head back to give him the angle he wants, and you’re not sure he’s aware that he’s doing it but it’s still so hot that you let a weak little sound escape into his mouth.

Geonwoo presses his lips harder against yours, shifting closer on the bed until your knees touch and his warmth radiates into you. It’s the closest he’s been to you in a while, beyond the occasional hug and pat on the back, and already his proximity is making you dizzy. The lightheadedness could also have something to do with his scent, soft and clean but handsome and manly too, just like Geonwoo himself.

You didn’t think kissing alone would have this effect on you, or that you’d want to do more than kissing so soon, but here you are, sitting next to him on his bed and struggling not to climb right into his lap. His thighs are just so thick and strong and welcoming, and you’d fit so well together, but you’ve only just started and it’s probably best to keep things slow. Which means not straddling him and kissing him breathless without warning.

But you can do that with a warning, though, right?

“Geonwoo, can I sit in your lap?”

He gasps out a yes and takes your hand with his free one, helping you climb atop him and get settled. You’re not pressed too snugly against him yet, but you can already feel the heat stirring between your bodies. You’re starting to get wet, your core pulsing in time with your heart, and when you shuffle a bit closer, something bumps against your thigh.

Geonwoo moans softly into your mouth, shifting both hands to your hips and squeezing, like he wants to pull you into him but he’s not sure if he can. You inch further into his lap and his grip tightens, his chest brushing against yours with every breath.

You can feel Geonwoo getting bolder, more confident, as he starts to take control of the kiss. He slides his tongue into your mouth, humming when you suck on it and smiling when you rest a hand on his shoulder.

You’ve definitely been looking forward to getting your hands on him, and it’s even better than you imagined. He’s so dense and big, with power wrapped up in every muscle. You’ve never gotten to touch anyone like him before, or be with anyone like him before, and it’s honestly exhilarating.

His shoulder is firm beneath your fingers, the warmth seeping through his t-shirt reminding you that you’re both fully clothed. Geonwoo seems more comfortable with touching you, so now could be a good time to lose some layers.

“Should we take these off?” You break the kiss to ask, giggling at his resulting pout and tugging at the edge of his shirt.

He responds by hauling the shirt off himself and letting it drop to the floor before slipping his hands beneath the fabric of yours. His palms are warm on your stomach, points of connection that sear your nerve endings and send your heart thumping, and as he drags them up, your shirt goes with them.

He stops just below your breasts, his thumbs skimming the underwire of your bra and his fingers spread over your rib cage, before looking up at you with a question in his eyes. You raise your arms in response, easing the way of the shirt and showing Geonwoo that you’re comfortable. When the fabric clears your head, you catch sight of the expression on Geonwoo’s face and sigh happily. He looks awed, enraptured, reverent, and you haven’t even taken your bra off yet.

You reach behind your back to find the clasp but Geonwoo stops you with a gentle hand, “Can I try?”

He fumbles for a bit but figures it out eventually, beaming at you when the clasp comes apart and your bra goes limp. You can’t help but smile back, squeezing his hands where he lets them rest on your thighs. The undergarment dangles from your shoulders and Geonwoo’s eyes grow wide at the idea of seeing you bare, but he doesn’t make a move to take it off. He must not be sure if he’s allowed to, so you let it slip a couple of inches, watching as he stares with bated breath.

Being able to captivate him like this is a heady feeling, but you won’t take advantage of it this time, won’t make him wait. The bra slides down your arms and to the bed, and Geonwoo stops breathing. You sit primly on his lap with your legs straddled over his spread thighs, trying to keep your heart steady as you let him look his fill.

When he still hasn’t moved, you take hold of his hands and bring them to your stomach, telling him, “You can touch me, Geonwoo.”

He sucks in a deep breath, his trembling hands slowly rising to cover your breasts. They’re so warm and big on you, calloused from lifting and strong from fighting. They’re perfect, and you let your head tip back as his palms brush over your nipples.

You almost jump when he leans forward to kiss your neck, shocked but pleased by his initiative. He’s gentle, just pressing his lips to your skin and softly sucking in a path leading to your collarbone.

His teeth dig in a little and you do startle in his lap, making him pull away to check on you.

“Was that okay?” he asks nervously, scared that he’s overstepped.

“Yes! Yes, I didn’t expect you to do that, but I liked it.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief and returns his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your delicate skin and pulling away to look at the indent he’d left.

He shares a secretive smile with you, his eyes giddy like he’s doing something he knows he’s not supposed to.

“Can I leave some marks? I like how they look on you.”

“You can leave however many you want as long as my clothes cover them.”

He nods resolutely, smoothing his thumb over the bruise he’d left on your collarbone and bending further to kiss across the tops of your breasts.

You arch your back to give him more room to work, inadvertently shifting over the hardness in his joggers and making him groan around the flesh bitten between his teeth.

He pulls away with a pop, his eyes wide and dark and his thighs tense under you.

“Should I keep doing that?” you ask him, your voice embarrassingly breathy and your hips itching to move.

“Please,” he says, one of his hands dropping to grasp your hip and pull you over him again. “Feels good.”

You can’t hold back the smile, pleased that he’s being open and losing some of the propriety he always maintains with you. He smiles back before leaning down and pressing a trail of kisses down to your pebbled nipple.

He tentatively sucks it into his warm, wet mouth, making you gasp and grind on him, your hips inching over until you can sit yourself right on his stiffening dick.

He feels big, because of course he would be, and you can feel yourself get wetter at the thought of seeing him, touching him, feeling him.

You’ll let him explore first though, let him get acquainted with your body and what it’s like to give someone else pleasure. It was something you had to learn too, and you’re glad you get to be the one to teach him.

He’s a quick study, you find. Lightly nipping at your left nipple with his teeth and rolling the right with his fingertips, cupping the weight of your breast with one hand and grinding you over his bulge with the other.

It already feels so good, and with the pressure and friction on your core, it’s almost too good. But you won’t stop him, not when he seems to be finding his stride, and definitely not when he’s so hard that you can feel the shape of him, feel just how long and thick he is. You’ll have to show him how to stretch you out, how to help you take him, and you honestly can’t wait.

“Woo, do you-,” you gasp, feeling a groan vibrate into your skin as soon as his nickname leaves your lips. You don’t use it often, only when you’re particularly tired or happy, and apparently, when you’re about to beg him to touch you.

He pulls away with a hum and licks his lips before asking, “Do I what?”

“Do you want to go further? I can feel how big you are, you’ll need to get me ready first.”

“Will you show me how?” He asks, as if you could ever leave him in the dark like that.

“Of course I will,” you assure him, cupping his scarred cheek in your hand and bringing him into a soft kiss. You break away before you can get too distracted and attempt to get off of his lap without revealing how shaky your knees are. They’re difficult to hide and you have to brace your hands on his shoulders, but you manage to get your feet on the floor somehow and dip your fingers into the waistband of your yoga pants.

He stops you before you can push them down and you can tell he’s about to ask if he can remove them himself, so you slip your hands out of his grasp and place them on his shoulders for stability again.

He flashes a quick smile at you, tucking his fingers into the elastic and pulling the stretchy fabric down. You feel it as soon as you step out of your bottoms, how wet you are. It’s soaked through your panties, and you’re not sure whether or not you want Geonwoo to notice.

Thankfully, he doesn’t. His thumbs hook in the sides of your underwear, his eyebrows raising in a question that you answer with a nod. He tugs them down your legs slowly, his gaze staying locked with yours until they hit the floor.

His eyes go heavy lidded as he looks at you, his kiss-swollen lips parting on a sigh and his warm hands settling on your hips. You feel kind of exposed but you don’t want to interrupt him as he seems to be growing more sure of himself.

You do want him to be as naked as you are though, so you squeeze his hands and say, “Your turn?”

He nods, rising to his feet and standing nearly flush with you. His warmth radiates out, his toned chest brushing against your breasts with each breath. You bring your hands to his waistband, tucking your fingers in between his joggers and his underwear.

“You can take it all off,” he offers, his voice deeper than you’re used to but no less gentle.

“If that’s what you want.” You take hold of his boxers and pants and begin to push them down, the backs of your fingers dragging along his skin until they’re low enough to fall on their own. He steps out of them and further into you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist when you set your hands on his toned stomach.

The air between you is warm and thick with tension as your palms slide up his chest to wrap around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. He hums against your lips, turning in a slow circle so your back is to the bed and gently pushing you onto it.

You sit heavily, bouncing in place and watching as he kneels before you. Your legs stay clasped together, shyness keeping them closed, and he sets his hands on them with a soft squeeze.

“Show me?”

“Geonwoo, your knees will-“

“My knees will be fine. Show me? Please?”

You slowly spread your legs apart, leaning back on your hands to stabilize yourself as you let him see you bare for the first time.

He breathes in a ragged gasp, exhaling, “You’re so… wet.”

“That’s a good thing,” you assure him, operating under the assumption that he doesn’t know much about sex.

“Oh,” he sighs, relieved and smiling as his hands slide up your thighs.

When his thick, calloused fingers come into contact with your core, you have to fight back a shiver. It’s been a while for you, and even Geonwoo’s timid touches are more than you’re used to. His digits glide through your folds, catching on your clit and making you gasp, “There, Geonwoo.”

He listens to you attentively, tucking half his fingers away so he can rub with two fingertips, his eyes darting back and forth between your center and your face. He starts with an up-down motion, furrowing his brows and spreading your folds open with his other hand so he can see better. You feel a bit bashful but you want him to explore, want him to feel comfortable with you and with how to pleasure you, so you take a deep breath and widen your legs further.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh in thanks and shuffles closer, fascination and focus clear in his expression as he gets to know you in this way. He’s methodical, experimenting with different motions and keeping his eyes on your face the whole time to gauge what you like best. When he lands on little circles that make your back arch and your eyelids flutter, he stops testing shapes to concentrate on finding the pace you prefer, starting slow and gradually speeding up until you tell him, “Like that! Like that, Geonwoo.”

He shifts forward out of excitement, his face close enough to you that you can feel his breaths, feel his hair brushing your inner thighs, feel the warmth radiating off of him. You love his enthusiasm, his dedication to learning you and making you feel good, and you shouldn’t have expected any less. Geonwoo gives his all to everything he does, of course that would include you.

“I’m definitely wet enough now, you can, um, put a finger in. Palm up,” You instruct shakily, watching as he removes the hand spreading you open and brings it back with his palm up, just like you said. He dips the tip of his finger into your entrance, a trembling sigh leaving him when he feels you for the first time.

“How are you so hot and soft and wet inside? You feel perfect,” He nearly moans, letting his finger slide in all the way. It’s longer, thicker than yours, and the little bit of stretch it gives you is delicious.

“Move it in and out, and you can kind of curl up and try to find-”

You yelp as Geonwoo’s fingertip prods your g-spot immediately, his finger the perfect length to reach it. He gasps and looks at you, fearful of your reaction before you assure him, “That was good! That’s where you want to aim, okay? And you can add another.”

“Okay!” He nods, beaming, and returns his attention to between your legs. He pulls his finger out and returns with two, his mouth open and his eyes half-lidded as he watches them sink inside you. Seemingly mesmerized, Geonwoo starts up a slow rhythm, his gaze locked on his fingers as they disappear in and out of you.

Once he has a good pattern down, he curls them again, the tips unerringly finding your g-spot and rubbing gently with every thrust. Your arms shake as he unknowingly starts to build you up, making you drop down to your elbows and let your head tip back.

“Does it feel good?” Geonwoo asks you breathlessly, making you tilt your chin enough to look down at him. His plush lips are parted, his eyes half-lidded but oh so curious and filled with a heat you’ve never seen in him before.

“So good, Geonwoo, you’re doing so good,” you sigh, biting back a smile as his ears turn a deep red at your words. Geonwoo loves to learn but he gets so shy when his efforts are recognized, and this is no different. You’ll have to be sure to praise him when you can, half because you want to reassure him and half because you really like how reactive he is to it.

You expected to have to make yourself cum tonight but you think Geonwoo just might get you there, every curl of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge. When he starts rubbing circles into your clit again, the heat building in your stomach takes on a searing edge.

“Put in one more,” you instruct, feeling a third finger squeeze its way inside you as soon as you finish speaking. “Spread them a bit, it’ll- it’ll help.”

His fingers push against the tightness of your walls, his breathing ragged as he carefully opens you up. The stretch is good, the feeling of his calluses on your throbbing clit even better, and as you begin the climb, you open your mouth to tell him (beg him) not to stop. But before you can say anything, Geonwoo speaks up.

“Can I use my mouth?”

Can he use his mouth? Where did this man come from? Heaven? Your dreams?

“Yes, Geonwoo, please, I’m getting close.”

He swears under his breath and leans forward, replacing the fingers on your clit with his warm, wet tongue. You lose some of your momentum as he gets used to the taste and feel of you, his tongue lapping at your folds with soft, broad strokes. It still feels good, but you need more if you’re going to cum.

Geonwoo seems to know without you telling him and wraps his plump lips around your bundle of nerves, giving you a short, cautious suck. Your thighs try to snap closed but you don’t let them, your muscles quivering as you attempt to hold your position. He notices, of course he notices, and uses his free hand to heft your leg up on his shoulder, sucking harder when you bring the other one up on your own.

His face is practically buried in your pussy now and with three of his fingers still filling you, you know you won’t last much longer. Your walls are starting to flutter and there’s a burn deep in your pelvis, a coil that only grows tighter and tighter with each purse of his lips around your clit. All he has to do is keep going and you’ll-

His fingers hook inside of you again making your hips buck against his mouth, and he lets out a groan so loud, the vibrations carry you right over the edge. Your eyes clench shut as you soar, white noise blanking out any thoughts beyond Geonwoo, Geonwoo, Geonwoo.

He doesn’t know to slow down and you don’t have the mental capacity to tell him to, his fingers rubbing your g-spot over and over again as he noisily sucks at your clit, bringing you through your orgasm and right up to another one. Your thighs shake, the icy bite of overstimulation starting to claw at you, and you let yourself fall back completely, your now free hands tangling in his cropped hair.

You could push him away, could stop him before he makes you cum again, but he’s just so good and it’s been so long and before you know it, you’re keening your way through a second release. Your thighs do snap shut this time, but he’s strong enough to break free if he needs to so you don’t worry, don’t think, don’t breathe.

All you do is feel. Feel his fingers inside you and his mouth around you and his breaths against you, feel the clenching of your core and the pulsing of your clit and the heat in your belly. You feel everything, and it’s almost too much but at the same time, it’s not enough.

You wonder if you’ll ever feel like you’ve had enough of Geonwoo, and before you can talk yourself out of your aftershocks of bliss, he slowly pulls his fingers out and slides his tongue in. You gasp brokenly at the sudden change but sigh as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you tight, holds you close.

“Geonwoo, don’t you want-”

He thrusts his tongue in and out, and your mouth closes with a click, your fingers shaking in his hair and your cheeks heating at the obscene sounds that escape from between you. Your head tilts back into the bed as he devours you, his tongue curling and pulling arousal from you like he wants to drink you down.

You’d let him, would let him do just about anything he wants to you at this point, you’re so boneless and brainless with pleasure. When he discovers he can push his nose into your clit while he fucks you with his tongue, you all but melt into the bed as a long, drawn out moan leaves your parted lips.

He groans in response, dimpling the flesh of your thighs under his fingertips, his grip growing tighter and tighter as you get wetter and wetter. You don’t know if you’ll be able to cum again, but if you can, you’d much rather cum on his dick than his tongue, so you assemble all the brain cells you have left and breathe, “Geonwoo, please, get up here.”

He pauses, his tongue halfway inside of you and his nose pushing against the hood of your clit. You both feel and hear his questioning noise, the confusion and reluctance clear in his hazy eyes.

“This was to get me ready and I definitely am now. Are you?” You laugh weakly, staring down at him as you card your fingers through his hair. His gaze grows heavy lidded, his tongue taking one last trip through your folds before he carefully pushes your thighs off his shoulders and rises to hover over you, bracketing your head with his forearms.

“I’m ready,” He exhales, his face shining and his big, leaking cock brushing against your thighs. You shiver at the sensation, already anticipating the stretch you’ll feel when he pushes inside for the first time.

He doesn’t seem like he needs you to tell him what to do anymore so you fall silent, watching him as he takes hold of his dick and lines it up with your entrance. You try to relax your inner muscles as he splits you open, but it’s difficult with the girth of him, his cock so wide you almost wish you’d told him to use four fingers instead of three. But you treasure the feeling, cherish the ache, and when he stops halfway in, you fear you’ll die if he doesn’t keep going.

“Why did you stop?” You gasp, his dick so big it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

“I’m trying not to cum,” he chokes out, his eyes clenched shut and his hands in fists beside your head.

Oh. Ohhhh, that’s hot.

“Take your time,” you wheeze, bringing your hands up to rub his toned back and doing your absolute best to stay still.

When Geonwoo has himself under control again, he continues to press inside of you, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper until he has nowhere left to go. Your breath catches in your lungs, the absolute fullness stealing every thought in your head.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice thin and shaky.

“I should be asking you that,” you half-moan, half-chuckle.

He huffs out a laugh, letting his forehead rest on your collarbone as you struggle to adjust to him. You know he can feel every flutter of your walls, every flex of your inner muscles, and you try to relax for him but it’s so hard when he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken.

After some deep breathing and wishful thinking, you think maybe you could stand to let him move. You’ve stretched a bit more, opened up a little, and with how wet you still are, he should be able to glide in and out.

“Geonwoo, I’m good, you can move now.”

“Are you sure?” He lifts his head to catch your eye, his restraint visible in his flexed abs and trembling arms.

“I’m sure,” you promise, bringing your hands up to rub his toned back as he pulls his hips away from yours and leaves you empty. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite, and you can’t contain the moan that bursts from you when he plunges back inside.

“How does it feel?” You gasp, your nails digging into his muscles and your legs wrapping around his waist.

“So fu- so good, tight and wet and hot and perfect,” he nearly sobs, “I won’t last.”

“That’s okay, Woo, you can cum whenever you want. And you can swear.”

He doesn’t normally curse in front of you, or much at all, and you’re nearly desperate to hear him uncensored. You want to know all sides of him, know him better than you know yourself, and you revel in the knowledge that now you know him like nobody else does.

It takes him a few strokes to find a rhythm but when he does, it’s devastating. He moves in and out of you slowly, but with power behind every thrust. You’re halfway up the bed before you even realize but Geonwoo just follows you, climbing up and using the new surface to fuck you even harder.

He’s so good at this already, but you shouldn’t be shocked. He’s got the heart of a boxer and the muscle control of one too, and that just means he’s even more efficient at building you up and breaking you down. You’re at the building up part now, the orgasm you weren’t sure you’d reach slowly coming into view as he shifts one shaking hand down between your legs.

“Cum with me?” He begs brokenly, his cock starting to twitch and leak inside of you. All you can do is nod, too busy whimpering at the feeling of his fingers on your clit and his big dick filling you up to form any words. He swears under his breath, his hips stuttering as one of his arms snakes under you to pull you into his chest. You cling to him, your body held almost fully aloft, and feel the rubber band in your stomach stretch thinner and thinner until finally, it snaps.

You clamp down so tight on him he can barely move, your walls swallowing around his cock and sucking it in deeper as he shatters with a groan. It’s the first time you’ve ever reached release with someone before, and immediately you know this is how it always should be. Your orgasm feeds into his and his into yours, his jerking dick drawing out every last bit of pleasure you can feel as he fills you up with his cum.

Your mind is hazy, your thoughts unspooled and messy, and your body hurts, your muscles sore and your core achey, but you’ve never felt better in your life. You’ve never been happier or more content than you are right now, with your numb legs and throbbing center and full, full, full pussy.

Geonwoo is still holding you to him with his face buried in your neck but he slowly collapses the arm holding him up, sinking down to the bed until he’s got half his weight on you. You want to see him, want to know what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, but you can’t disturb him, can’t pop the bubble you’ve found yourself in with him.

It could be seconds, minutes, or hours until he pulls away. He’s gotten softer inside you but he still feels big, his cock plugging you up and keeping all of his cum from trickling out. When he lifts his head up to look at you, his eyes are misty, his lips are swollen, and his cheeks are red, and you swear he’s never been more beautiful to you.

“Thank you,” he breathes, his voice tight with an emotion you don’t recognize.

“Of course, Woo. I would do anything for you,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his face. You brush over his cheekbones with your thumbs and pull him in closer, pressing a soft peck first upon his lips, then his nose, then his forehead. His eyes crinkle with a shy smile before he tilts his chin and captures your lips again in a sweet, slow kiss.

Your hips are growing sore, the need for a shower is growing urgent, and you think you even felt your stomach growl, but none of that feels more important than staying in his embrace. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and it might never happen again. You wish the thought didn’t settle in the pit of your stomach like a sinking stone, but here you are, wrapped around Geonwoo and trying to keep yourself from crying as he kisses you more gently than you’ve ever been kissed before.

You get too distracted by your somber realization to move your lips against his and he pulls away, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, panicked and with his cheeks squished between your hands.

“No!” You rush to assure him. “No, you didn’t hurt me, I’m just…”

“You’re what?” His voice is tender, patient, encouraging, but you aren’t ready to bare yourself to him like this just yet, no matter how naked you already are.

Shaking your head, you pinch his cheek and force a smile, “I’m ready for a shower. Are you?”

He purses his lips, gazing at you knowingly but thankfully deciding to let you keep your secrets.

“Yeah, I am. Do you want to start the water while I strip the bed?”

“That sounds good.”

You nod to each other but neither of you make a move. It’s like you’re frozen, stuck in place until you give your unpleasant thoughts a voice. Geonwoo holds your gaze, his expression open and understanding, and you wish you could just tell him.

Tell him that you don’t want there to be any others after you. That you don’t want anyone else now that you’ve had him. That you don’t want this to be the first and last time. That the feelings you hold for him are no longer simply platonic.

But you open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out, the words caught in your throat as it starts to burn like it always does when you cry. You swallow down the tears, swallow down your fears and wishes and desires, and begin the process of removing yourself from him.

He allows it, slowly pulling away until he frees himself with a hiss, his fingers immediately covering your entrance to keep his cum from spilling out. Your cheeks heat at the intimacy of his touch, a small gasp escaping you as he breathes, “I wish you could keep it inside.”

You could always fill me up again, you think wistfully.

“Me too, Geonwoo,” you murmur instead.

You're alone in the shower letting the water run over your face so you can pretend you're not crying when you hear the door open. Geonwoo peeks his head around the edge of the curtain with a hopeful grin and asks, "Can I join you?"

You hold back a sniffle and nod, smiling weakly and stepping away from the spray so he has room to climb in. He does so gracefully, solid on his feet and confident in his balance, before turning to face you and taking you in his arms. He pulls you into a hug, your naked bodies pressed together under the warm rush of water, and you melt against him, your arms winding around his neck and your knees deciding to go on break.

"Do you think, maybe, I could, um, take you out on a date sometime? Like... as soon as possible?" He whispers into your neck, just loud enough for you to hear him over the shower.

Your heart stops, thumps one, two, three times, and then starts racing.

"I'm free right now."

Tagging: @calllmeifugetlost @againwithwonu @sparklingtragedy

My Masterlist

#kim geonwoo #geonwoo fanfiction #woo dohwan #bloodhounds #bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds fanfic #bloodhounds netflix #woo do hwan ff #woo do hwan fanfiction #woo do hwan #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds imagines #kim gun woo #hong woo jin #✨emily writes✨

[mediumgayitalian]

“I want you to have this.”

“Will —”

“Nico,” Will interrupts, voice stern, “take it.”

He fiddles with the clasp of his watch, sliding it off and holding it between them. The Celestial bronze frame has long since worn smooth, leather straps molded to the shape of Will’s wrist after years and years of use. He can even see the indent on the side of the bottom strap, where the Ace bandage Will often fidgets with has worn a groove.

“Please.”

Nico glances up to meet Will’s wide, pleading blue eyes. They’re darker, in the setting sun; almost midnight blue. Like the Raleigh reflection that colours the sky happens somehow in the tiny rings of his irises, too.

He sighs, holding out his wrist. Will’s expression melts into something almost relieved, corners of his lips turned up in a grateful smile. He wraps his warm hands around Nico’s forearm and fingertips, flipping over his arm, and presses the cool watch face the the middle of his wrist, buckling up the straps. Nico’s wrists are thinner than Will’s, and the worn-wide hole third down from the tip of the strap is skipped for the long-forgotten fifth. The watch fits comfortably and snugly, light enough that Nico almost — almost — forgets it’s there.

“It’s nothing like Percy’s,” he says quietly. His hands linger on the skin of Nico’s forearm, blunt fingernails picking at the watch’s grooves. “It can’t protect you. It doesn’t have a shield or a sword or anything like that. It’s just a watch.”

Nico hums. Gently, careful not to shrug off Will’s hands, he brings the watch closer to his face, inspecting it. There are nicks and chips, as expected for a watch Will has worn longer than Nico has known him, but there’s not a flaw in sight. It even ticks, pleasantly, a sound almost musical.

“Beckendorf?”

A tiny, punched-out sigh slumps from Will’s mouth.

“Yeah.”

“I can tell.” He taps his thumb on the face. “He did good work.”

“He gave it to me when I was eight,” Will says softly. “I used to — freak out, a lot. My anxiety was a lot worse as a kid. I’d panic if someone was late to breakfast, if I woke up late and no one was in the cabin. I didn’t like not knowing when things were supposed to happen.” Will’s lips quirk up. “Set it on the table when he walked by me one day. Didn’t say a word, just mussed my hair and smiled at me like he didn’t just fix my shit better than Xanax ever could.” His smile turned wry. “I had the hugest crush on him for years.”

It startles a laugh out of Nico, the admission, imagining Will’s motormouth trailing after Beckendorf, his bemused indulgence.

“There’s no way he didn’t know, either. I am not a subtle person.”

His shoulders shake. Gods, what a sight. He’s almost sad he missed it — he’ll have to ask Clarisse or Annabeth about it. Hell, maybe even Chiron. Will even looks like he’ll allow him, wide grin on his face, red as his ears may be.

“Not a bad choice,” Nico agrees, calming down a little. The watch feels heavier, now, knowing the significance, and he looks at it, lips pursing. “You sure you want me to take it?”

Will’s hand drags down his his arm until it rests in the palm of his hands for one, two, three seconds; glancing up at Nico, glancing down, nodding to himself. He twists their fingers together, squeezing. Nico’s breath hitches.

“You know how my energy kinda — goes everywhere?”

Nico nods. Will has more healing ability than pretty much anyone the camp has seen — and the more power, the harder it is to control. He’s got a pretty good handle on it, but if you stand near enough to him while he’s healing it’s impossible not to feel the affects; the ease to your joints, soothing of your tense muscles, pleasant warmth over your skin. Nico has been healed of scrapes and bruises just by virtue of one of Will’s beaming smiles, he’s gotten so good. Nico only wishes it didn’t drain him.

“I’ve been wearing that watch over seven years,” Will says. His fingers twitch. “The bronze is magic, of course, but that leather — that leather was living, once. Beckendorf made the whole thing with his bare hands ‘cause he saw me struggling. As far as ordinary objects go —” Will shrugs helplessly. “Might as we’ll be a sponge. It’s been absorbing my magic nonstop for nearly a decade. It’s as connected to me as my eyes, my hair.”

Almost absentmindedly, his free hand reaches out for Nico’s. He curls their fingers together, meeting them in the middle, and squeezes, hard enough to ground. Will blinks back into focus.

“I can feel you wearing it,” he whispers. “Your — heartbeat, vitals. Your life force.” He brings their clasped hands close to his chest, tapping right above his heart. “Here. I can feel you.”

Nico holds his breath. “Not just ‘cause you’re close to me?”

“No. I’ve never felt it like this before. Started the second you put on that watch. Focus for a second, can you feel it?”

Closing his eyes, he tries — imagining the click of the watch, gentle and soft, and the rise and swell of Will’s breathing. It’s in his hands, at first, every place they’re clutching Will’s, but in a second he can almost feel it pound — the ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump of Will’s heart, right next to his. The knot of anxiety in his stomach that isn’t his. The worry, golden and protective, spilling over him in waves.

“An empathy link,” Nico breathes. He stares at Will in pure awe. “You — you made an empathy link.”

That kind of life-force magic…you have to be deeply connected to the core of basically everything to access it. Satyrs have it easy, being nature spirits. Gods spend so long grappling with time that they can manage, too.

But mortals? Even half-divine ones?

Nico has spent a lot of time with the mythical, alive and dead. He’s met theoi from pantheons forgotten to every living soul, foreign to even most of the dead. He knows his history twice over and backwards.

He’s never heard of that before.

“Holy shit, Will.”

“Just — come back to me,” Will says. He tugs on Nico’s arms and faces him head-on, eyes now almost black that the sun has set down. “Promise me, Nico. Stay safe. Stay outta trouble as much as you can. Keep your head on straight. And —” He squeezes their hands together, to hide the tremble in his fingers. “I mean it, okay? Come back to me.”

Slowly, giving him time to pull away, Nico frees his hands, sliding them up to cup Will’s face. He pulls him down, standing on his tiptoes to meet him halfway, and lingers, breath mixing, warm, in the millimeters of space between them.

“I promise,” he whispers. “I swear it, Will, I’ll come back to you. I swear it on the Styx.”

Thunder rumbles above them.

“Good.”

Will closes the tiny stretch of space separating them, and their hearts beat in tapping harmony.

#i just think will has an insane handle on Actual Life you know #we could go ham with his powers not just nicos #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #first kiss #nico/will #will/nico #soft #soft solangelo #powerful will solace #like…..let’s be so real #whipped nico di angelo #my writing #fic #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #longpost

[eddiesbug]

hold me closer [e.munson]

summary: you can’t sleep. eddie helps you out

pairing(s): eddie munson x fem!reader

fandom: stranger things

word count: 1583

warnings: lots of fluff, reader has insomnia, making out, suggestive jokes, eddie being a sweetheart, eddie being fuckin sexy

“Can I come over?”

Your voice is sweet and soft through the phone. Sleepy. Eddie smiles, leaning into the wall.

“Course you can, princess. It’s late though, are you tired?” he rasps. You hum in affirmation.

“Can’t sleep.”

You struggle with sleeping often, spending many nights without so much as a second of rest. Eddie tries in every way he can to help, doing everything from playing you soothing music to holding you in his arms and cuddling you to sleep. Sometimes his efforts pay off - other times, not so much.

“Alright, baby. You want me to come and get you?”

“‘s alright, I’ll walk.” Eddie frowns; his little grunt makes you giggle. Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he rifles through the array of possessions scattered by the front door and jumps in triumph when he finds his car keys.

“I don’t want you walking so late by yourself, beautiful. I’m gonna come and get you, okay?”

“I don’t want you walking so late by yourself, beautiful. I’m gonna come and get you, okay?”

“I don’t want you walking so late by yourself, beautiful. I’m gonna come and get you, okay?”

“‘kay, Eds. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you more.”

Eddie hangs up and crosses his arms. You must be exhausted if how agreeable you are is anything to go by. Usually you’d do anything but let Eddie help you, arguing and protesting for every second that your boyfriend is trying to make your life easier. But you just don’t have it in you. You’re so fucking tired.

The drive to your house isn’t a long one, but Eddie hates the idea of you out, alone, in the middle of the night. He’s so protective of you - and with good reason.

You’re already waiting outside when he arrives. Hopping into the passenger seat, you gaze up at him with drooping eyes. He threads fingers through your hair, nimble and wonderfully gentle, and you murmur quietly, leaning into him.

“Hi, pretty princess,” he says, “Let’s get you to bed. We can cuddle, have some tea, whatever you want.”

“Tea?” you giggle.

“Yeah! I read somewhere that it’s like, super calming and can help you fall asleep. So I bought some for you.”

“Thank you, baby.” You smile, climbing awkwardly into his lap in the car. He sits back, immediately making room for you. You’re so lucky, really, to have someone who puts up with all of this. Who wants you despite all of your silly quirks and flaws, even though you’re difficult and stubborn and hard to deal with sometimes. Eddie loves you regardless. Pushing your hair back from your face, he kisses your forehead; you whine, holding his face still to press a kiss to his lips. He sits up, deepening the kiss; your lips mesh together, warm and soft and comforting, and Eddie’s tongue slips through and into your mouth, pulling a hum from you.

“Eddie,” you whine against his lips, fingers curled around his t-shirt.

“Shh, shh. ‘s alright,” he reassures, thumb caressing your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

A grin cracks across your face at the word home. What’s his is yours, after all, and Eddie has always adhered to that.

You climb back over to the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt in and hugging your knees.

“Good girl,” Eddie says, rubbing your cheek before starting the car engine again.

The ride to Eddie’s is short and quiet; you struggle to keep your eyes open, but still sleep refuses to come. By the time you realise that you’re stationary and Eddie’s already out of the car, he’s lifting you. You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing him in and working deft fingers into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. With your other hand, you twirl the ends of his long hair, smiling dazedly into his neck. His steps are long and languid, purposely so as not to jolt you. He unlocks the caravan, setting you down gently so he can close the door behind him. You make for the bed, laying down on the pillows that smell like him and inhaling deeply.

“Smells like weed in here, Eds,” you laugh.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, the smell isn’t bad,” you reply, “jus’ different.”

“Okay, what do you wanna do? What d’ya think’ll help you fall asleep?”

“Dunno. Will you cuddle me?”

He toes his heavy boots off along with his jacket, climbing into the bed alongside you. You’re on him in an instant, shuddering at the touch you’ve been sorely lacking. You already feel like you could fall asleep.

“I missed you,” you tell him, pushing your arms under his own and stretching.”

“I missed you too, princess. Missed this.” You hum thoughtfully at his reply, kissing his jaw.

“How’s Hellfire been? Is your campaign going well?”

“Oh yeah, it’s going really well. It’d be better if I had my lucky charm to come with me.”

“That me?” you giggle.

“Of course that’s you. Will you come, sweetheart? Please?”

“Yeah, Eds, I’ll come. You’ve just got to help me sneak out. My dad has me on house arrest.”

“I’m not messing with your dad. He scares me,” he laughs. “What did you do?”

“I snuck out to go to one of Steve’s parties and I may have come back a little bit drunk.”

“Oh my god,” he cackles, his chest shaking with the force of his laughs.

“Not my finest moment,” you admit, “He only really grounded me because I threw up on the front doorstep.”

Eddie cries actual tears at that, wheezing and howling above you. You scrunch your face up, batting at him halfheartedly.

“You’re so mean!”

“It’s funny, princess. I’m sorry!”

You settle yourself in the juncture of his neck, his infectious happiness relaxing you infinitesimally. His arm travels up and around your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. You shiver, slipping your hands beneath his t-shirt.

“Y’alright?” he asks, tilting his head to get a glimpse of your face.

“‘m alright. Just tired.”

He pulls the blankets further over you, pressing his lips to your temple. Before he knows what’s happened, you’ve drifted off to sleep nestled in his arms.

You manage to doze for a few hours before you’re wide awake again. You feel refreshed and significantly better, albeit still tired. Eddie sleeps soundly next to you and you smile, tracing his tattoos with the very tip of your finger. Your lips follow, pressing chaste kisses to his skin, anywhere you can reach. You do it for no other reason than you need to feel close to him.

“Fuck, I love you,” Eddie rasps, voice thick with sleep. “Can’t believe I have you all to myself.”

You laugh, snuggling back into his awaiting arms and kissing a trail along his jaw and cheek.

“I love you more,” you mumble.

“Don’t test me, princess. You want me to prove how much I love you?”

The innuendo isn’t wasted on you and your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your frame.

“Baby, it’s so early!” you squeal, writhing in his iron grip.

“Shh, shh,” he coaxes, body crushing yours from above now; his skilled hands have you soft like putty within mere seconds and you go lax, baring your throat to him like an offering. A sacrifice.

“There’s my girl,” he praises, teeth grazing the tender skin over your trachea. “So good for me. So pretty.”

“Eddie,” you whimper, pawing at his chest and abdomen.

“I’m right here. What do you want?” he almost purrs, knowing exactly what to say to rile you up.

“I-I want you,” you manage to stutter out, arms sprawled around you. You’ve gone limp like prey - and he’s hunting you.

“Gonna have to be more specific than that, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

Your skin is on fire, buzzing with energy that needs to be expelled. You need him to do something, anything.

“Kiss me please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement, lips feverish against your own. When his hands cup your cheeks, rings cold against your warm skin, you prop yourself up on your elbows, pressing yourself as far into him as you can get. He murmurs love words against your lips.

“Good girl. So good f’me, princess. Fuck, I love you so much.” Incoherent whines are your only reply as you practically try to crawl inside of his skin. You can’t seem to get close enough and it’s driving you mad.

“Sweetheart, I’m here. Chill out,” Eddie laughs. You could almost cry. You need to be closer.

“I can’t,” you breathe, tucking your bare arms under his t-shirt. “Not close enough.”

“Alright, alright. If you wanted me to take my clothes off, should’ve just asked.” He winks, stripping his shirt off in one clean movement. You pounce, nuzzling into him. He cradles you like you’re made of china, lips gliding over your face and shoulders. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

“I just missed you,” you say, “Everything is so much worse when you’re away.”

“I have you, princess. I missed you so much.”

The fatigue returns tenfold, crashing over you like a wave, pulling you under. It’s almost as if your body knows you’re safe with Eddie and allows you to relax. To sleep peacefully without worry.

“Can we go back to sleep please?” you ask. Eddie nods.

“Finally feeling tired, hm?”

“Yeah.”

He gets you comfortable, smiling at your dozy expression. You sigh softly, pressing your face to his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. Humming, you kiss the hollow of his throat.

“Love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He rubs your head with deft fingers until you’re pulled back under by sleep.

#fanfic #writers on tumblr #imagines #writing #fiction #fem!reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things spoilers #stranger things

[devilfic]

part three to this series

"so you're not a vampire?" miguel grunts at you. "and you don't drink blood?"

"not recreationally, no." he glances up from the work on his desk (a new one, without all the claw marks) at you and you're giggling. he hides his own smile by looking down.

"what are the fangs for, then?"

"they paralyze. I use it on villains who don't come quietly."

"just villains?"

you're not smiling anymore, a forced look of propriety on your face, and that gives you away instantly. miguel's stare locks on you like a missile, "where is this going?"

you try to look uninterested in the topic, even though he can feel you practically vibrating with curiosity as you pace back and forth in front of his desk. back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until you create a breeze that carries your sweet scent to him and he has to fight the urge to inhale as deeply as he would like to. you'd caught him the last time, when you'd had him pinned to the mat with your knee on his chest and he'd had no excuse. "one of your weird spider quirks," you'd reasoned for him, but the way you've looked at him since told him you didn't completely buy that.

"I just wanted to know if it was painful. I thought I could ask someone in the spider society."

miguel narrows his eyes and you stare back, unblinking, "I imagine paralyzing venom hurts a lot."

"but on someone like us," you start, approaching his desk and placing your hands on top of his paperwork, "on someone like me... I'm just curious."

miguel had never... asked how it felt. in the moment, when the spider instincts took over, he was a blur. the talons would cling into the villain's skin, his fangs would spring forth, and it would just happen. he was always conscious enough not to overdose them, but he didn't care if it hurt. didn't care if they flailed and whined while he held them down and bit clean into their flesh. it was one of the more uncomfortable parts of his reality, letting the spider take over. trusting it.

it was what had scared him so much when you'd offered to let him spar with you. the fear that the spider would take over and, even though it had never failed him before, he wouldn't come back in time.

"I want you to bite me." you declare.

"absolutely not- and don't say you can handle it."

"I could, though. you've never killed anyone with that venom, right? even if you were to get mad enough, I'd be fine."

"I'm not biting you just so you can know what it feels like."

"well, what if I wagered with you?" you offer, grinning, "we fight. I lose, you bite me."

"how do I know you wouldn't lose on purpose?"

"okay, fair enough. I win, you bite me. I lose... I do whatever you want."

"you already do whatever I want. that's your job."

"something else, something outside of work. whatever you want. deal?" you hold your hand out to him, a dangerous proposition. miguel isn't even thinking about the bite anymore. he's thinking about what he'd want with you, what he'd really want, and he feels like he might let you win just so that he wouldn't have to come to terms with that.

it was a cruel ask of you, knowing how much he worried about hurting you, but he couldn't deny you. it was becoming a fatal flaw in your growing, confusing relationship.

you take miguel to the training quarters and come at him with a vengeance. when you sparred before, he was always the one unhinged, blood rushing in his ears with the anger that you willingly took again and again and again. but now, he's cautious. he has nothing to take out on you. this is entirely you.

he can't understand you. can't understand why you offer yourself up to him in this way, how you feel so comfortable with him. you don't flinch away or fear him, regardless of how much he played up that image of himself. it was like you were seeing through him constantly. like he was bare to you and only you.

his mind only comes back to him when you have him pinned to the mat, serious as you wrestle his arm away from your throat. he thinks back to your deal.

whatever he wanted?

you catch his eye and the fire in your gaze alights once more. you know you're winning.

whatever he wanted. he could...

his arm hits the mat and he melts like putty, giving in. you're giddy as you sit on his chest with the most triumphant expression. then, you hold your arm out to him, waiting, eager.

he looks between you and the supple skin of your outstretched arm. he takes it carefully in one hand, the gentlest he's ever handled anything since... and he lets his fangs pierce through.

your chest starts heaving, excitement overtaking the wince as the venom starts spreading underneath your skin. miguel's tongue presses against your skin, tastes the saltiness of your sweat and can feel the blood coming to the surface, can taste the iron tang of it as it spills past his lips.

he almost shuts his eyes as his senses all focus in on you, you, you. your smell your taste your pulse your breathing-

his teeth retract and he immediately composes himself, letting your arm go, "are you okay?" he whispers.

you look at the spot where he'd bitten you, four perfect holes where his spit and your blood intertwine. it's growing red and beginning to swell. you touch the skin and pain throbs up the rest of your arm, but it's not unbearable. numb but fine. nothing worse than a spider bite, really.

you're quiet, trying to flex your hand to no avail. he hadn't used a lot of it, just enough venom to give you the feeling you were looking for. "yeah, hurts."

miguel can't help it. he laughs a full-bodied laugh that shakes you as you sit on top of him. it's contagious and eventually you're laughing too, falling off him and curling up next to him on the mat, filling the room with your intertwined laughter. the other spider-people training must have been giving you both strange looks, but miguel couldn't bring himself to care. he hasn't let himself be held like this in months, hadn't embraced the feeling of a soft, warm touch like the one your hands on his arm give him.

you were abrupt. your strangeness was alarming, almost threatening in the beginning, but now he sees it for what it is. an invitation. a chance to let himself go. he hasn't been this happy in a while.

part four

#psst listen to infrunami by steve lacy while u read this #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #marvel #mjwrites

[jazzisackerman]

katsuki who responded to your anxious confession with a derisive scoff, pulling you in by the waist as he said, "as if you weren't the only person i was fucking in love with", like it was a simple fact.

katsuki who wants to hold your hand frequently, but holds back because he doesn't want to get too warm and accidentally activate his quirk.

katsuki who only found out it was your birthday last-minute, muttering something about 'didn't leave me enough fucking time' before dragging you to an arcade you'd been talking about for ages.

katsuki who helps you make meals, hands resting over yours as he directs you in his kitchen with a touch that seems nearly too soft to be his.

katsuki who curses a lot when you beat him at anything – games, tests, sparring – but will turn oddly quiet when he takes in your wide smile and overjoyed laugh.

katsuki who almost competitively learned your interests and the things that brought you happiness, smirking with satisfaction every time he made you light up.

katsuki who hides his smile and huffed laugh when you scrunch your nose at him from across the classroom, or blow a kiss in his direction.

katsuki who has only cried in front of you once, but couldn't feel flawed when you kissed his tears away and stroked the back of his neck, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

katsuki who feels his stomach swoop every time you reach up to run your hands across the sides of his face, and nearly crumbles every time your lips touch his.

katsuki who would probably take down the world for you, if it only meant he could fall into your arms at the end of it.

© jazzisackerman 2022. all works and content are intellectual property of this blog. do not plagiarise or translate on tumblr or elsewhere.

#love.jazzi. #dango.sticks. #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[perpetual-stories]

How to Use Character Flaws to Enrich Your Writing

Readers identify with characters who are relatable and peppered with imperfections. When a writer crafts believable character flaws, they open the door to interesting conflict, engaging personalities, and ample character development.

What Is a Character Flaw?

A character flaw is a trait that prevents a character from being perfect.

Sometimes this fatal flaw leads to a character’s demise or at least undercuts their character strengths and presents a prominent setback they must overcome.

Any character can have flaws, including a protagonist, antagonist, love interest, confidant, deuteragonist, tertiary character, or foil.

Why Give Your Characters Flaws?

A character’s flaws serve many functions, particularly ensuring that the character is relatable and engaged in inner conflict. Carefully crafted flaws can do the following:

Make the character relatable to an audience of readers or viewers

Present an obstacle that must be overcome during the course of the story

Create character weaknesses that another character in the story can exploit

Create an obstacle that prevents a character from immediately solving a conflict

Set off a character arc that allows a character to grow and change

Provide quirks that distinguish characters from one another and make them memorable to audiences

Emphasize broader themes that are amplified via specific character flaws

Create comedy—from Homer Simpson to Michael Scott, the best comedic characters are hopelessly flawed

What Is an Example of a Character Flaw?

In the Thomas Harris novel The Silence of the Lambs (and its subsequent film adaptation by director Jonathan Demme), Hannibal Lecter has what could charitably be called a personality disorder: He is a cannibal and a sadomasochist.

Lecter’s character flaws, however, are somewhat offset by his brilliant mind, which he uses to help the main character, Clarice Starling, apprehend a serial killer tormenting Appalachia.

Lecter is an example of how in fiction, even characters with the most severe personality flaws can embody a degree of three-dimensionality.

12 Character Flaws to Use in Your Writing

The array of possible character flaws is boundless. Here are 12 time-tested character traits that inherently generate conflict:

Perfectionism: A finicky perfectionist is never satisfied. They can rarely accept that a project has been completed, and they rarely accept the finished work of others. Perfectionism is a great flaw for a detective, a doctor, or an office worker.

A know-it-all attitude: An arrogant, self-righteous know-it-all has great potential to fall flat on their face, whether comically or dramatically. High school stories often feature a know-it-all foil to the main character. These archetypes work particularly well in comedy, especially when the know-it-all suffers from a broader lack of intelligence.

An inability to move on from the past: Many police procedurals and superhero stories feature heroes haunted by their past, such as murdered parents or the victim they could not save. This major flaw presents obstacles as they work to solve crimes—but when the obstacles are overcome, the story’s happy ending feels earned.

Laziness: Laziness is a flaw that leads to obvious conflict, some of which can be quite funny. Lazy sloth detectives and doctors can be either hilarious or the source of grave conflict, depending on the tone of your storytelling. A lazy character in a position of authority can generate a lot of tension for your plot.

Physical vulnerability: Some characters suffer from a physical weakness that can escalate into a fatal flaw. Superman’s tendency to wilt in the presence of kryptonite hamstrings him, while the great warrior Achilles was undone by his fabled heel.

Low self esteem: People who fundamentally dislike themselves make for fascinating characters. Jesse Pinkman’s self-loathing leads him down all sorts of dangerous paths in Breaking Bad. On the other end of the spectrum, the young adult author Judy Bloom has crafted gorgeous character arcs from youthful characters, like Linda Fischer in Blubber, who begin their journeys with low self esteem.

Vanity: Vanity is the undoing of many real world characters, and so it also works beautifully in fiction. Politicians, artists, models, and athletes in stories are routinely undone by vanity as they gradually develop a bad reputation. Ordinary people can be wrecked by vanity as well, so it’s a common character flaw in many forms of fiction.

Lust for power: Unbridled thirst for power has undone many a character, from Mr. Kurtz in Heart of Darkness to Frank Underwood in House of Cards. Power is intoxicating, and characters who seek it are both relatable and easy sources of conflict.

Lack of maturity: Many character arcs begin with a person in a hopeless state of immaturity who then grows over the course of the story. Immaturity can also manifest as rudeness, like when a bigmouth makes tactless remarks.

Fear: Common in action dramas and comedies alike, fear—be it cowardice in the face of duty, a specific phobia of spiders, or an irrational fear—is a great character flaw that naturally drives a story.

Hedonism: Some characters cannot resist temptation, whether that involves an illicit drug, food, or a fetish. Sometimes this excessive desire is due to addiction—it’s no secret that many famous protagonists are alcoholics—and sometimes it’s due to a general lack of self-restraint and willpower. For a character like Fyodor Karamazov in The Brothers Karamazov, hedonism and lechery make him both tragically amusing and subtly sinister.

A gruff exterior: Some characters seem initially impenetrable because they are taciturn, standoffish, or even hostile and lewd. Typically these characters house a vulnerable interior beneath their coarse shell. Bringing out that vulnerability and lack of self-worth can be a strong driver of story.

Please like, comment, reblog and follow for more!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writersconnection #writerscommunity #short story #storytelling #writersupportingwriters

[lesbianfakir]

Something that is an example of good character writing in Princess Tutu is how Fakir and Duck have little incompatibilities in their personalities (you know. Beyond the obvious). It makes it a little harder for them to get along and understand one another but you get the sense that they’re both putting the effort in. It’s sweet and it makes the relationship feel all the more real.

Fakir is serious, blunt, and he doesn’t sugarcoat things. His words often come across as harsh, even when there’s real care behind them. As a result, Duck—who reads his tone but not always the intentions behind it—doesn’t always pick up on when he’s doing something nice for her. For example, when Duck starts to tell Mytho she’s Princess Tutu, Fakir startles her to interrupt her, causing her to turn back into a duck. She takes offense and only later realizes he did it so she wouldn’t reveal her identity to mytho before she was ready (and even then I don’t think she picks up on the full extent of it). There’s another scene where he tells her point blank if she doesn’t want to fight the raven she needs to stop being princess tutu. It comes across as quite harsh and seems to visibly sadden Duck, though he cares about her deeply and is only trying to keep her safe.

The other “incompatibility” that comes to mind is how Fakir is sensitive and easily offended while Duck tends to blurt out whatever’s on her mind. While there are many scenes where he does get upset (take the scene in the Wandering Knight where he takes her request to stop getting in fights as an attack on his character), there are just as many where he doesn’t take the bait. Watch the show a few times and you’ll notice Fakir has a habit of going silent when Duck says something insensitive. He waits for her to finish speaking and he either ignores her or moves on. In those moments, you can feel the conscious effort he’s making to not lash out. Duck’s earnest naïveté is part of why draws him to her but at the same time it causes friction between then when she’s overly hopeful about something delicate to him, like his writing.

Anyways tldr; Fakir tends to hide what he’s feeling and thinking behind a deadpan demeanor, which sometimes obscures his true intentions from Duck. Meanwhile Duck tends to trample over the things Fakir is sensitive about in conversation, and he often has to stop himself from getting upset. In these moments you see how these characters may not completely understand each other but they care about each other a lot and actively work to smooth out their differences. Also it’s very cute when Duck realizes after the fact Fakir did something nice for her and her face lights up.

These little quirks make room for natural misunderstandings between the characters. Honestly, I like how Princess Tutu doesn’t smooth out compatibility issues or completely rewrite Fakir’s character when he and Duck become friends. The same flaws and tendencies are present, we just see the characters taking more active, conscious steps towards getting along.

#if you need receipts I have them I just didn’t feel like getting screencaps #ask me about specific examples #princess tutu #fakiru #my children #I looooove psychoanalzying characters #if anyone cares I would be so so down to just sit down and do a full character analysis of my thoughts on all the tutu characters #and what makes them tick #but again! anything I say might be super obvious I can’t tell

[ladyloveandjustice]

When I checked to tag to confirm his favorite food that in the tag I see people arguing "Shuro's not a misogynist!!! He's not sexist!!! he said he loves Falin's mind!!!" and guys. he's sexist. That doesn't mean you can't like him or anything, or that he's irredeemable, I wouldn't call him a misogynist as in "he hates women", but:

"ORDINARY WOMEN HATE BUGS AND THINK THEY'RE GROSS AND ICKY AND SCREAM...YET FALIN LOVES BUGS? THE SPECIALEST GIRL IN THE UNIVERSE!" #notlikeothergirls

(very funny to say it about a caterpillar too, since those are not bugs people are most commonly scared of or disgusted by compared to other ones)

He again shows a kind of condescending sexism even in post-series comics:

Pretty rich for a guy with an all female group of bodyguards! He's talking to someone who's very capable of defending herself. It's a weird cognitive dissonance he has here, one that's not really shown by other people in the manga! One thing that's cool about Dunmeshi is there's really not much "women are like this, men at like this, women have to be protected" language and women are casually treated in a fairly equal manner...except when Shuro is talking. It's pretty clearly a deliberate thing.

On top of that, he really did make Falin his manic pixie dream girl, and that's undeniable. He says he likes her mind and that's great, but in reality he barely knows her and his view of her is very founded the ideal he's built her into. First of all, he doesn't really seem to accept Laios would be part of his life if they got married, because he seems to assume Falin would leave him and everything she cares about behind, which she definitely wouldn't have done at this point in her life. Nor does he tell the two most important people to her about his plan to rescue her. He does a lot of things we know Falin wouldn't care for in her name. I think he matures a bit over the course of the manga, but I don't think he sees her actual quirks and flaws (which he might find annoying) the way Laios and Marcille do.

I've seen people excusing this with "he's repressed/ he's Japanese" which uuuuh. Not a great look to say we can't expect a Japanese man to be as "enlightened" as their European friends. Again, Shuro has grown up with a ton of women around. His indirect nature and issues with his childhood might be why he keeps his distance from them, but odds are one of the ninja girls doesn't mind bugs, or another one of his allies in the dungeon world. He did grow up in a fairly patiarchal household, but he is surrounded by women he could get to know, and very capable female fighters both in his adventurers party and his homelife. So theres no excuse for him to treat Falin as delicate or put her on a pedestal compared to his assumptions about other women.

Again. this doesn't make him irredeemable. I'd call it subconcious sexism rather than actively hating women, a thin line sometimes, but significant in the likelihood of capacity to change. I feel like if someone pointed it out to him he'd at least give it some thought or maybe try to reconcile with it. But excusing the flaw doesn't do anything for his character. Just because you like him doesn't mean he doesn't have issues.

#dungeon meshi

[your-local-simp-writers]

Threads of Gratitude

Word Count: 478

Warnings: None

Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

In the elegant quarters of Pomefiore, where beauty reigned supreme, you sat across from Vil Schoenheit, the dorm leader known for his impeccable standards and grace. The task at hand was a delicate one, requiring both creativity and dexterity: crafting friendship bracelets that would embody the essence of your bond.

Vil, with his usual poise, selected strands of silk thread in hues that matched the Pomefiore colors—purples and golds that shimmered in the light.  “Remember, it’s not just about the aesthetic,” Vil instructed. “Each color, each bead, must have meaning. It should speak of the bond it represents.”

You nodded, your fingers fumbling slightly with the tiny beads. “I want mine to say ‘grateful’,” you said, concentrating on threading the beads onto the string. “Because that’s what I am for our friendship.”

Vil looked up from his work, his gaze appraising. “Grateful is a good choice,” he agreed. “It speaks of depth and understanding.”

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of beads and the occasional snip of scissors. You both worked in comfortable silence, the shared task creating an intimate atmosphere that was new to your friendship with Vil.

After a while, Vil broke the silence. “You have a steady hand,” he observed, watching as you tied a knot. “It’s essential for beauty. Precision is everything.”

You laughed, a little self-consciously. “I’m not sure about precision, but I’m doing my best.”

Vil’s lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile. “And that is all one can ask for,” he said. “Perfection is not about the absence of flaws, but the effort to rise above them.”

As you both finished your bracelets, you couldn’t help but admire Vil’s work. His was flawless, each bead perfectly aligned, each knot tight and secure. It was a reflection of him—meticulous and beautiful.

“Here,” Vil said, as he clasped the bracelet around your wrist. “A perfect fit,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on the bracelet. “A token of our friendship.”

You exchanged bracelets, and as Vil fastened the one you made onto his wrist, you felt a surge of pride. It might not have been perfect, but it was made with sincerity and care. Vil’s bracelet for you was exquisite, each knot and bead placed with precision and care. Yours, while not as flawless, was made with equal parts love and admiration.

“Thank you, Vil,” you said, feeling the weight of the bracelet on your wrist. “This means a lot to me.”

Vil nodded, his eyes softening. “And to me as well. We are, after all, reflections of those we hold dear.”

In that moment, with the sun setting outside and the room aglow with the golden light, you realized that the true beauty of your friendship wasn’t just in the shared interests or the laughter—it was in the moments like these, quiet and sincere, that you would treasure forever.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fluff #twst imagines #twst fanfic #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x female reader #twst x female reader #twisted wonderland imagine #x female y/n #vil twisted wonderland #female!mc #f!mc #twst pomefiore #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x yuux f!reader #Twisted Wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #x female reader #vil schoenheit x yuu #disney twst #vil shoenheit x reader