#Are you waiting for your gold star sticker?

[baede-6]

Question

If my weapon of sorrow...thorn for this example is whispering to me and telling me to do it... should I do it?

I think it's generally a good rule of thumb for Guardians to ignore anything that's whispering to them.

Unless it's whispering to you to get ramen or something. In which case,do the thing.

But since it's Thorn we're talking about,something tells me that's not the case.

[prettiestlovergirl]

GOLD STARS

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; brat!reader; princess!reader; praise kink; overstimulation, oral (m. and f. receiving); fingering; light impact play; p in v sex; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); creampie; dom! luke castellan.

a/n: i had a vision and i was encouraged to see it through by the lovely, lovely bratetteprincess, praise kink girlies rise!!! enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

you loved to be praised.

you were a needy, pretty little pillow princess addicted to being praised and worshipped on a daily basis. not that there was anything wrong with that, your boyfriend certainly didn't mind.

luke castellan fucking loved to praise you. he loved to bury his face, hands, cock, anything in-between your smooth thighs and make you see stars. only when you were a good girl, though.

when you were being particularly bratty n spoiled, like you had been the past couple of days, he had to get... creative. after all, he could only fuck you how you wanted when you were a good girl for him.

"princess" luke cooed, leaning against the doorway of your cabin bathroom. he kept one hand behind his back, watching as you hold the mascara wand up to your eye and blinked.

"hmm?" you asked, not bothering to look over at him as she finished applying your mascara. you blinked a couple of times, making sure your mascara didn't smudge on your cheeks.

"i've got a surprise for you." he stated, smirking as that seemed to get your attention instantly. "a surprise? what is it?" you asked, putting the mascara back in the tube and walking up to him.

he chuckled as you walked up to him, interlocking your fingers and looking up at him with your pretty, begging eyes as you waited to see the gift he'd brought you. he pulled his hand out from behind his back, revealing a pack of 30 gold stars.

"you got me... stickers?" you asked, shoulders slumping as you resisted the urge to pout and roll your eyes at the lackluster surprise. "well, if you don't want them, i guess i can just go give them to someone else" he shrugged, turning to walk away.

"what? no! that's my gift, i want them. now." you demanded, reaching out to grab them before he quickly lifted them over your head. "you want these? you gotta earn em, princess. all you have to do is be a good girl f'me."

and that's what led you to right now.

luke sat on your bed, all of your clothes scattered all over the floor. you knelt down on one of your pretty pink throw pillows, refusing to put your knees on the hardwood floor.

you didn't often give luke head, you much preferred to let him do all the work, but you wanted to prove that you were his good girl. you placed your hands on his thighs and opened your mouth, admiring his red, swollen cock.

you flicked your tongue against his tip, eyes locked on his while he groaned out and gripped the mattress happily. you let out a soft giggle before taking his tip into your mouth, sucking on it and letting your tongue swirl over the slit and collect his precum.

"that's it, baby. now you're being my good girl." he praised, watching as you took more into your mouth and bounced it off the back of your throat. you could feel your panties already dampening at the praise.

he moved his hand up to your hair, gripping it gently as you started to take as much of him into your mouth as you could. he moaned as you started sucking him like your life depended on it, his cock going down your throat again and again.

"c'mon, princess, you can take more than that." he cooed, stroking your hair. he murmured encouragements as he pushed his hips forward, making you take his cock further down until you gagged, and your eyes started to water.

after a moment, he pulled out of your throat, giving you a second to catch your breath, but you worked quickly. your wrapped your hand around his saliva covered cock, instantly starting to pump it while you ducked your head and took his balls into your mouth.

"oh, fuck, yeah, fuck, good girl." he grunted, feeling your tongue flick against his balls before sucking them further into your mouth and just as harsh. "fuck, yes, just like that, you're gonna make me cum, baby." he praised, egging you on further.

you continued to suck until you felt his cock twitch in your hands. you quickly took him back into your mouth, sucking harshly on the tip until his cum spilled into your mouth. "gonna swallow it all f'me?" he asked, watching as you nodded eagerly.

you swallowed everything, not a single drop escaping your lips. "open." he demanded, waiting until you opened your mouth to prove that you swallowed it all. "good girl." he smirked, pulling one of the gold stars off the sheet and pressing the sticker to your cheek.

"up on the bed, baby." luke hummed, helping you stand back up before switching places with you. you laid back on your bed, pulling another pillow with you to help prop you up.

"you did so good for me, baby." he praised, grabbing your left leg and placing kisses from your ankle up to the inside of your thigh before switching and doing the same with your right leg. he kept his eyes on you, watching the way you squirmed impatiently but held your tongue.

"fuck, i am the luckiest man alive." he cooed, tugging your panties down your legs before spreading them wide open. he leaned forward, running his tongue up your soaked center, watching as your cunt fluttered around nothing.

you gasped, whining softly as he slowly eased a finger inside of you. he circled it over and over before another finger joined in, slowly stretching your tight little pussy out while you moaned.

"mm, still so fucking tight for me." he hummed, slipping a third finger inside of you and watching as you threw your head back and moaned out louder.

he latched his tongue onto your clit, lapping at it as he pumped his fingers faster and faster, working in sync until you were nothing but a squirming, moaning mess on the verge of cumming. "luke!" you whined out.

"that's it, baby, i got you. cum for me, be a good girl and cum all over my fingers." he purred, his lips sucking harshly on your clit as your breathing clenched and your core tightened until you finally came on his fingers.

his continued to finger you through your orgasm until your moans turned into more whines and squirming. "clean them off." he commanded, holding his soaked fingers up to your lips while his free hand pulled another sticker off the sheet and pressed it to your boob.

"mm, fuck, luke, i want you to fuck me." you begged, your voice muffled and sloppy as you sucked his fingers clean of your pussy juices. "be patient, baby." he chuckled, pulling his fingers from your lips while you pouted.

he stuffed another pillow underneath you, this time under your hips and lower back, to line you up with him. he placed his tip against your dripping entrance before thrusting in hard and fast.

"fuck!" you squealed, squirming a bit as he began to pump in and out of you, getting stronger and stronger with each thrust. "you're doing so good for me, baby." he praised, pulling out to the tip and ever so slowly inching back in.

"fuck, luke, please!" you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks and ruining your freshly applied mascara. "please... what?" luke teased, inching in just a little more as you whined in distress. "need you to use your words, baby. like a good girl would."

"fuck me! please, luke, please, i'll be such a good girl, the best girl, just please fuck me!" you begged, whimpering until he slammed roughly into you. your back arched instantly in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut.

you felt deliciously full, just how you liked. "there you go, baby, that's it. take every single inch." he cooed, pulling out before thrusting right back in. "you feel so fucking good." he groaned.

he leaned up and wrapped his lips around your un-stickered nipple, sucking on it harshly while you moaned out loudly. "fuck, harder, please!" you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts while he sucked your skin.

"as you wish." he grunted, pulling out and slamming into you even rougher, over and over again, all the way to the hilt while you practically screamed out in pure bliss. you gripped onto your comforter tightly, eyes squeezed shut as you started to clench around his cock.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, luke, 'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" you moaned, mascara-stained tears rolling down your cheeks as he pulled you closer and moved harder and faster into your tightening cunt.

"good girl, cum for me, cum on my thick cock." he cooed, teeth grazing over your nipple as he gave you a few more strategic thrusts until you unraveled around him with a loud scream-like moan. your legs shook as your second orgasm crashed over you, luke continuing to fuck into you.

he thrusted and thrusted until he finally came deep inside of you, pulling out to watch the way your pussy leaked with his cum. "fuck, your pussy just looks so pretty like this." he smirked, watching the way your body sagged against the pillow.

he pulled another star off the sheet, pressing it to your core with a chuckle while you rubbed your hand over your chest to try and catch your breath.

he smirked as he lightly smacked your clit, watching the way you jolted in surprise and whined out. "luke!" you huffed, sitting up on your elbows as your body already started to ache from the sudden jump.

"'m sorry, princess. let me make it up to you." he hummed, a devilish grin on his face as he sunk down to his knees. "luke..." you warned, tone suspicious as you watched him sink down onto the pillow you'd previously left.

you'd been about to say more when you felt his teeth sink harshly into your inner thigh, making you gasp and squeal out loudly. "fuck, luke!" you gasped, making him chuckle as he ran his tongue over the bruising skin.

"was an accident, princess. slipped." he lied before bringing his fingers up to spread open your pussy lips. you whimpered at the touch, an even louder whine escaping your lips as he pushed his tongue past your swollen, puffy walls.

"luke, 's too much, too much!" you whined, a sob escaping your lips as his tongue gently fucked your sensitive hole. your body writhed underneath his grip but he didn't stop, continuing to tongue fuck you.

"c'mon, i know you can give me one more. be a good girl and give me one more. he knew it was okay to keep going because you hadn't used the safe word. he flicked his tongue against your clit, dragging another cry from your lips before he delves it back into your pussy.

this went on and on until your cunt started to clench again. "that's it, cum for me mamas." he hummed, the vibrations sending you right back over the edge as you came all over his tongue and chin.

he lapped up your pussy juices, groaning softly at the taste he loved so much. he continued to drag his tongue through your folds until your hands practically shoved him off.

"you did so good f'me, princess." he praised, grabbing one final sticker and placing it in the center of your slowly bruising thigh. he pressed a quick kiss to it, watching as your body stayed slumped down with exhaustion.

"lets run you a bath now, huh?"

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[sohnric]

gold stars – e. sohn

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: friends (idiots) to lovers au. fluff. a sprinkle of hurt/comfort in some parts, a hint of college au!!

wc: 9.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mention of toxic family behaviors, a joke about a praise kink. eric is an embarrassing loserboy but i love him sm

listen to: risk by gracie abrams

where everything eric sohn does is search for your approval, and where you reward him with a gold star sticker for every act of kindness. will you ever see him as more than just a friend?

a/n: thank you best friend @csenke for beta reading as always (i miss you deeply btw</33). also thank you @from-izzy for brainstorming with me and listening to me while i gushed about this silly fic idea. thanks @strayed-quokka lennon for giving me eric's insta username idea i will keep using it from now on in all fics AHAHA TT

If Eric was asked to pinpoint the exact moment where he started to rely on your validation, he wouldn’t really be sure of his answer. The truth is, somewhere deep inside of his soul, he knows the yearning has been there ever since he can remember, but the instance that is rooted in his memory as the core one– the one that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like a teenager in love for the first time (which he wasn’t! Nor a teenager, not in love for the first time… right..?) – was one Thursday afternoon after he came home from taking his last exam of the semester to find a message from you waiting in his Instagram DMs. 

Breathlessly clicking at the notification (and now, this should’ve been a sign of his growing feelings for you), he is welcomed with the sight of you sharing a post with him. Wholesome, but still a little silly, a picture of a yellow star poorly drawn onto a white background waves at him, the words ‘congratulation the stress didnt abolsultly kill u’ written in the Comic Sans font on the inside, making him giggle. Despite the typos and the poor grammar, his heart squeezes on itself, shaking his head at your adorable antics as he shoots you a quick message as a thank you. You’ve been helping him with the studies for the last couple of weeks (if constantly yelling out “you will murder this exam, Sohn’ and laughing at his miserable face counts as support), so it’s even more heartwarming to see his friend still be so supportive of him even after the hell already ended.

@ damnsohn [5:11 PM]: thank u i will now need to receive gold stars for everything tho

And see, he wasn’t really thinking before sending that message. He just needed to convey his gratitude without sounding too overly eager– without sounding too infatuated with your sheer existence and the validation of his efforts. (Failed)

What he didn’t expect was for you to actually follow up on his request. 

To make things even better, you pulled through with physical reminders. The poorly drawn golden star landing into his Instagram DMs was just the start of the habit you fall into with Eric Sohn, the man whose love language is words of affirmation– without him even realizing it. And so, what started out as a wholesome, innocent joke, now turned into a recurring thing that is slowly, but surely making the boy go absolutely insane.

The first time he receives a physical golden star sticker is one day when he comes over to your place to watch a movie with you. You made a list full of iconic films you haven’t seen before– a list you get clowned for at first dates with any man that is pretentious enough to talk about his love for Quentin Tarantino (Eric told you to stop going on dates with the aesthetic, ‘indie’ looking men you find on Tinder) – and little by little, you try to get through it with the help of the rest of your friend group. Since everyone gets bored easily of mediocre films they’ve seen before, Eric is the one that spends the majority of movie nights with you– and that’s only because he’s the only one that doesn’t mind watching the Titanic for the fifth time already, if it means he can spend some time with you.

“You brought popcorn?” you gasp upon his arrival, gazing at the plastic bag in his hold, eyes big and full of stars– one would say you were looking at your first love. You weren’t– it was just a salty treat. Isn’t that every girl’s first love, though?

“Yeah,” he nods.

“Pre-popped?” 

“Pre-popped,” he agrees as he takes off his shoes behind the door, watching as you jump up and down in excitement, taking the big bag out of his hands.

“I like it pre-popped the best, oh my god,” you hum, hugging the huge bag like it’s a teddy bear, going as far as pushing your cheek against it, making your face turn into an adorable pout. “They are a little stale and softer and–”

“And the salt is really settled into it’, yeah, I know, Y/N,” he snickers, finishing the sentence he’s heard you say about a million times already– he starts to wonder if you have short-term memory loss and don’t remember telling him every time you walk by the cinema. (And that’s a lot of times, since Sunwoo’s dad owns the place. Sometimes, Sunwoo makes Eric be his own delivery man– he would deny on most occasions, but ever since he learned that bringing Sunwoo his lunch to work means he can take home a bag of cinema popcorn, the one that admittedly, always tastes the best, he doesn’t complain much– he can use the stale bag as a leverage to make you do about anything.)

“Oh man,” you sigh, “aren’t you a dream. I was going to wait for a more serious occasion, but wait, let me just–” you say, running quickly into your room. Eric doesn’t question your antics, figuring out that he will know the reason for your disappearance soon enough anyway, and allows himself into the living room. Two cans of coca cola and a chocolate bar are already waiting on the coffee table, alongside the TV remote, and while he passes the couch and opens one of your kitchen cabinets to fish for a bowl to put the popcorn in, he hears your socked feet rumble against the floor, announcing your arrival.

Once he takes the big bowl he’s sure he’s seen you puke in before after a wild night out and settles it onto the kitchen counter, the bag of popcorn comes back into his view as you lazily throw it into the white plastic, still closed and sealed, waiting to be opened. As his hands move and go to rip it open, meaning to pour the snack in so you two can share while you watch the next movie on your list– which, just for the record, Eric never asks the title of before, afraid it might make him less excited for the movie night– you put something onto the back of his hand, giggling.

Eric curiously stops his movements, gazing at his own skin. There, shiny and glittery, is a sticker attached to his limb– a yellow star sticker, to be exact, making him look at you with a dumbfounded look, eyebrows furrowed, but lips still sealed into a wide grin.

“That’s a gold star for remembering my favorite snack,” you point, flicking his forehead as a way of swatting him away from you so you can open the bag yourself, “and for bringing it.”

When Eric doesn’t give you any coherent reply– despite his brain operating on a thousand miles per hour, thoughts just swirling around and silencing any rational words– you only laugh at his face, your nose scrunching in that adorable way that makes him want to reach over and squish both of your cheeks in between his fingers, crying out. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so serious about this,” you sigh, snickering. Eric was going to bring up the fact that you were the one serious enough about the sentiment to buy a full roll of star stickers to give him on various occasions, some more serious than others, but he kept his silence in fear of getting this advantage taken away from him. He doesn’t think he’d survive it. “If you manage to not eat the entire bowl before the movie starts, I’ll give you another one. Come on,” you call for him, body already disappearing back into the living room.

Eric follows you like a lost puppy. If he had a tail, at this moment, he would’ve been waggling it. After he drops to the sofa, he notices the movie paused on the TV in front of him to be none other than Dirty dancing. With a sigh, he recognises that he’s seen it about five times already with his mother and sister, and so he spends the hour and a half gazing at the star on his hand instead.

The next few stars he receives are gifts of a similar manner. Half-serious, but still enough to make Eric’s heart leap in his chest at your recognition.

One day, he says a joke in the middle of the conversation that nobody really appreciates. And see, it’s not really unexpected– he was already aware that his friend group doesn’t appreciate good humor– but the dead silence he receives after the lame joke still makes him feel kind of awkward. That’s only until he is greeted with the sound of your muffled chuckle, though– which is of amusement at the situation, and not his joke, just for the record– and the sight of you ruffling around your pockets. You take a roll of stickers out of your jean jacket, and before he knows it, a star sticker is glued onto his phone case, right in the corner of his phone laying screen down on the table. 

“A gold star for trying,” you hum, making the rest of the group holler out a laugh at the casual bullying, “not as bad as last time, keep it up, buddy.”

Eric gets red in his cheeks. When he looks up from the dark wood of the dinner table, he is met with the sight of Sunwoo and Juyeon looking at him with shit-eating grins on his faces, wiggling their eyebrows at the very obvious reaction Eric has at the half-assed praise. The boy wonders if you’re the only one that hasn’t noticed yet, or if you just don’t really care about the effect you have on him. The star sticker stays glued to his phone case at all times, though, even when it’s worn-down and peeling off at the edges.

Another gold star is won from you one day when the semester starts again and you two meet up in the library, working on your respective essays. Each of you major in a different thing, so there is not much actual help shared other than underlying emotional support, and despite the coffee Eric brings you upon his arrival and the bag of chips resting on the table waiting for you to munch on them, which you refuse to touch before you finish a segment of your essay to ‘motivate yourself’, as you say, he can see you’re still a bit stressed out.

The suspicion is only proven to be true when he speaks up suddenly, lost in thought and a little overwhelmed himself. “How do you spell ‘accommodate’?” he asks, scratching the back of his head.

He now admits that it’s a stupid question to ask, but somehow, getting advice from you is much easier than looking it up himself, or simply writing the word down to let Google docs do the editing. The answer you give him is short, sharp, and the tone of your voice stings the boy the tiniest bit. “Are you 5 years old, or something?”

“I–”

“I’m in the middle of writing an important paragraph, Eric, just Google it–”

“Jeez, okay,” he hums, rolling his eyes at your snappy composure. When your eyes meet only two seconds after, you look a little guilty. You say nothing, though, only continuing to focus on your essay– and Eric does the same, for the most part. (While he also tries to take his mind off the fact that you might think he’s a little bit stupid. You are a STEM major, after all– he’s the one studying media.)

After a while of typing away on your computer, though, you look at him with big eyes, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The subtle nerves and desperation in your face are enough to leave the man weak in his knees, and even though he’d like to reply to you in a similar manner to show you his disapproval with your previous tone, he can’t find it in himself to ever reject you as you mumble out a soft: “Switch?” having the man instantly nod, offering you his laptop.

This is standard practice for the two of you. While he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about in your essays– for all he knows, you could be pulling everything out of your ass– he enjoys reading the words you’ve written. You two often work on your essays together and switch from time to time to reread what the other one has so far– on a lookout for wrong word order, grammar, or anything sounding weird. It’s hard to rationally evaluate your work and find flaws in it after spending hours and hours on it, your brain desensitized to the content you’re writing. Having a helping pair of eyes is always for the better.

When the both of you are done and you switch the laptops back, there’s a gold sticker smiling back at him from the device settled right next to the Kirby sticker you’ve given him once after hearing him gushing about the game one night (Yes, he was tipsy and sentimental). He didn’t even notice you putting it on, and when he looks up at you with questioning eyes, you shrug at him, averting eye contact.

“A gold star for spelling ‘accommodate’ right,” you say, making the boy roll his eyes, snickering.

He doesn’t really question you further. Just the star sticker is enough for him now, if he’s being totally honest– even as unserious as they come. Had he pried more, though, maybe he’d find out that the gold star wasn’t just the prize for his spelling– but also for his patience and silent support he’s been sending you every single day. 

And so, the habit preserves itself at first in a joking, half-serious manner. A gold star sticker for him when he reminds you to water your plants (‘for having a good memory’). A gold sticker for him when he carries you home on his back after you get too drunk at the bar with your friends (‘for having strong muscles’). A star sticker for him when he picks you up after work and drives you home (‘for having a cool car’). Another one when he cooks you ramen when you’re sick and don’t have enough energy to make yourself something warm for dinner (‘for being a 5* Michelin cook’). For his birthday, alongside with other things, you give him a strip of the gold star stickers, 5 in a row all next to each other– ‘for bearing the old age well’. He’s not even that much older than you in the first place, but he takes the external validation and praise with open arms, not really dwelling deeper into the sentiment underlying your joking, unserious reasonings. 

He doesn’t really realize the stickers were a sign of gratitude for the fact that he listens to you and remembers what you have to say– not for having a good memory. They are for taking care of you on your lowest– not for having strong arms and a ‘fat ass’. They are a wordless thank you for his acts of service and protection of you, not for having a cool car and getting his driver’s license– although, the pride is the common undertone in some of the gold stars you give him. You give him gold stars on his birthday to tell him you’re proud of the man he’s growing into, not to make fun of him growing old. The boy is just too oblivious to realize it, it seems.

Some days are more difficult than others, though, and that’s when your star stickers gain more value and seriousness. 

The day after he has a family reunion with the distant relatives that always pry too much into his business– ‘Do you have a girlfriend yet?’, ‘What will you end up doing with that useless degree of yours?’, ‘Do you still share a flat with that friend of yours? What about getting your own place?’ – he is met with the sight of you waiting for him after class, on one of the bean bags outside of the lecture room. His department is a solid 20 minute walk away from yours, so the sight of you there surprises him, but the shock is only intensified when you call him over with a wave of your hand and present him with a pack of M&M’s with a gold star stuck to the packaging.

“What’s that for?” he says, but opens the candy nonetheless. After he takes a few into his mouth, he offers you some– to which you shake your head and shrug.

“For being the coolest one out of your family,” you say close to his ear, like it’s a secret, before you ruffle his hair and stand up from the bean bag, strutting towards the exit. “Come on, I have beer over at my place. You can come over and rant about them being stupid, if you want.”

Eric smiles at your sincerity. Trying hard to tame his hair back into place, he follows you with his backpack hanging off one of his shoulders, and even though he’d love to finish the candy you’ve given him, he forces himself to leave at least three pieces inside of the bag, saving it for later– just so he can keep holding on to the star-adorning wrapper for some more.

One day is particularly hard for the boy as he locks himself out of the apartment, having to wait for his roommate Jake to come back from his hometown the other day, leaving him no place to stay– before you invite him over and force him to sleep over on the couch. You can tell there is something more bugging him, though– and so you push the boy for answers.

“What’s up? Locking yourself out is not the end of the world, y’know,” you say, trying to lighten up the situation.

Eric looks at you with tired eyes, shrugging. Truth be told, his mood has been gradually falling over the last couple of days– this incident was just what really tipped him over the edge and nudged him closer to a nervous breakdown. He’s been overwhelmed with work (too many people having high expectations of him that he is scared he cannot meet), with school (too many assignments he is afraid he can’t manage to get done in time) and also with his family constantly being at his neck about everything he does and chooses for his future– only fueling the burning pit of anxiety and insecurity crawling outside of the big hole inside of his chest.

“It’s nothing,” still, he notes. “I’ve just been having a bit of a rough time, really, ‘s all.”

You answer him with a slight pout of your lips, a saddened expression taking over your face. There is sympathy oozing off your presence, and Eric can’t tell if he dislikes it, or yearns too much for your caring words and gentle encouragement. He can’t tell if it’s natural or pathetic, to want, to need your compliments and validation so much– or if he’s just fallen into a hole he can’t crawl back out of, too hungry after every bit of your attention. You’ve completely enchanted the boy, made his heart both soft and erratically running whenever you’re around, and the things he constantly does for you are not only because he wants you to tell him he’s doing well, but also because he wants you to think of him as someone that you can lean on. He wants you to think of him as someone good enough for you. 

Today, though, maybe he just needs a bit of validation. Maybe he just selfishly strives for your encouragement. It’s okay to just want to be loved on from time to time, no?

You coo, taking a seat next to him on the sofa you’ve spent countless movie nights on together, slotted side by side. Eric plays with his fingers in his lap, a heavy cloud hanging over his face. You know your friend isn’t really good at talking about his emotions– something akin to a mental block inside of him preventing him from ever fully opening up– but despite it all, it seems like he’s completely see-through in your eyes, handling you all the unspoken words on a silver platter. You know him too well.

“You’re doing well, Eric. Don’t let the doubts get into your head, yeah?” you hum, meeting eyes with the boy. 

“Am I, though?” 

The face you give him is stern, acting upset with him. “Of course you are! Stop saying that,” you shake your head at him, sighing when he doesn’t comply with your hard love. After a heartbeat of silence, you turn your head away from him and face the turned-off TV, instinctively wrapping your arm around the boy first, tucking him to your side, before you cradle his head and move it so it sits in the crook of your shoulder. 

Patting his hair, ruffling it and gently playing with the strands before you move to scratch on his scalp, the actions all unarm the poor boy. He almost feels like he could cry and fall apart right there in front of you, right there in your hold, but his pride is oftentimes bigger than his need to let it all out– so he just stares ahead of him, teething at his bottom lip in silence.

After a moment, you rustle around your pocket with your free hand, seemingly searching for something. Eric watches you with curious eyes, big eyes reminiscent of ponds of water waiting to overflow when you take out a strip of star stickers from the inside of your sweatpants, gently taking one of them and sticking the golden star onto the fabric of his pants, right on his knee, before patting it affectionately.

“What’s that for?” he asks, voice a bit hoarse. He’s glad you don’t mention it.

“Just in general,” you shrug, hand coming back up to play with his hair, “a gold star because I’m proud of you.”

“There’s nothing to be proud of, though..?”

“Of course there is!” you argue, raising your voice at him. He doesn’t make much effort to show you that he agrees or understands your point, so you gently take his hand into yours and wave it around in mock-joy– although you’re kind of serious about the sentiment. “Proud of you, because you’re alive and surviving! Yay!”

Eric snorts. It’s not enough to cure his mood completely, but it warms his heart up enough to make him forget about his tears.

“Do you just carry these on you at all times?” he asks, pointing towards the sticker on his leg.

“You never know when you need them,” you innocently agree. After your continuous doting, the boy finds himself falling asleep on your shoulder. When he wakes up in the morning, there’s a blanket thrown over his body he didn’t see in the room before, and he feels a thousand times better.

So far, Eric’s never asked for the gold star stickers. They always come to him by your initiative– and although he has to admit that sometimes he does stuff for you and expects a reward for it (in the form of the sticker, of course) – he never once begged to receive one himself. Sometimes, you surprise him. Sometimes, it’s obvious there is one coming– like after he helps you send out your psychology survey to every single person he knows (and he knows a lot of them. He is a born extrovert, after all.). 

Much like the day of his football match. 

He’s not really the biggest fan of the sport– he much prefers baseball, but his university no longer has a baseball team and he needs to get additional credit somehow– but when you add up the fact that it makes him popular with the fact that he ends up spending time playing around the field with his friends and over the course of the season gets actually better at the sport the more he practices, it’s not as bad as he expected.

The last match of the season turned out well– with their team winning– and although Eric wasn’t the one in charge of the winning goal (damn Kim Sunwoo and Jake Sim for collectively beating him to the victory), he was still ecstatic about the whole thing. After celebrating with his teammates, dubbing them up and screaming in victory, his eyes scan the crowd to find the rest of his friend group that he knows is there, watching him and Sunwoo play. (In reality, he’s just looking for you– he won’t admit that out loud, though.)

Running up to you with sparkles in his eyes, he watches as you cheer on your other friend, Sunwoo, when he beats him to the bleachers. (Not cool of him, if you ask Eric. His crush is literally right there.)

The taller boy enthusiastically talks about the match– as if you, Jihoon, Ryujin and Jay haven’t been on the bleachers the whole time, watching– and after a while, Eric hears your enthusiastic praise aimed towards his best friend, making his blood turn green in envy.

“Yo, that goal was so good, though!” you gush, patting Sunwoo on the shoulder.

“I know, right? Jake passed the ball to me in the perfect time, that other guy couldn’t even register what was happening,” he boosts, grinning to himself.

All attention is drawn on Kim Sunwoo, and Eric doesn’t like it. Not when it’s your attention we’re talking about. He doesn’t care if the whole university drools over the handsome fire sign (as if he doesn’t have a girlfriend anyway– although Eric is still surprised by the fact, after the way he treated the part-timer at his father’s movie theater in the first few weeks of their acquaintance). Believe me, Eric is completely content standing in the shadow whenever someone gushes about Kim Sunwoo, the star player of the team– until you’re involved, of course.

So, he sulks. And it’s apparent– or at least he thinks so. It doesn’t seem to clock in with any of his friends, though, as they all walk away from the football field, aiming to celebrate together in the cheap restaurant downtown. Eric walks behind the group like a lost puppy, and it takes exactly 5 minutes and 35 seconds (not that he’s counting) for you to finally notice the absence of his lame jokes and loud comments to just about everything.

“What’s up?” you ask when you trail behind the group to join his side, laughing at the pout on his face. “You look like you just lost the match. Which you didn’t. Not sure if you caught that…” you joke, bumping your hips with him.

“Well, you seem to be acting like it,” he comments, his words leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Huh?” you ask, genuine confusion tinting your expression. “We’re literally going to celebrate, I don’t get what you– is this because you want that stupid star sticker?” you cut yourself off mid-sentence, the boy already too readable to you after so much time.

Eric gasps in shock. He’s not really sure what he wanted out of mentioning it so openly to you, but to be called out like this surely wasn’t on the list. He feels heat rising to his cheeks with lightning speed, his eyes averting your gaze in the instant. Maybe the voices inside of his head were right. Maybe he is embarrassing.

“Well,” he shrugs, only digging the hole under himself deeper, “did I not do well too?” he mutters under his breath, the humiliation fully settling into his bones after you laugh straight at his face.

“Wow…” you hum, shaking your head in disbelief. “If I knew I was fueling your praise kink this much with the stickers, I would’ve stopped a long time ago–”

“I don’t have a praise kink–” he screams, battling you as you suddenly scramble after him with the sticker on your finger, waiting to be plastered somewhere onto his figure. He’s sure the whole commotion heard his poor attempt at defending himself, but he’s not willing to back down without a fight– anything to prove that he doesn’t depend on the stickers as much as one would think. He doesn’t want the sticker anymore. He doesn’t need it.

As you fight him and womanhandle him on the street, though, hands all over him, trying to get close as he desperately tries to push you away and fight the allegations, he finds himself unarmed when you get in close proximity of his body, pushing him against the wall. He’s sure he has more muscle power than you do, but the mental power in him is lacking– he just can’t make himself push you away from him. Your face is close to his, your breathing tickling his nose. His heart is stammering hard against his chest, your hands still clutching his wrists against the wall, making him feel like a horny teenager. His breathing is heavy– he doesn’t think he’s done much physical labor, though?

Before he has a chance to collect himself and physically unglue his eyes off your lips– glossy and pink, inviting him in– you make the boy’s brain short circuit even further when you lean close to his ear, whispering so no one else can hear.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, by the way.”

You know just which buttons to push. Maybe you’re a bit sadistic– with how knowledgeable you are of his feelings, but of how much you’re enjoying him being completely oblivious to the fact that you’re aware. You have him at your mercy, all yours to keep, his heart all yours to play with and scan in the palm of your hands.

A star sticker is pressed into the skin below his ear, right at the pulse point. With that, you unstick yourself from the boy, running back to the rest of the group. It takes Eric a moment to collect himself enough to rejoin his friends– so much he has to run (which is good, in hindsight– at least he has something to blame for his breathlessness)– but after this, he swears he’s never asking for validation from you ever again.

It’s too dangerous.

Almost as dangerous as you trying to ride his skateboard for the first time, it seems. He’s met with the fact only two weeks after the football match. When you texted him and convinced him you’re going to be fine and that he should definitely bring the board with him when you hang out later in the day– ‘I’m not a five year old, I can handle it! I bet it’s going to be fun!’ – he didn’t really expect you to be this bad at it. You seemed a little too confident for him to believe otherwise, and, well, in Eric’s eyes, you are perfect at just about everything. 

This really shattered the image of you he had in his mind. Not in a bad way, no– the man has and always will worship the sheer ground you walk on– it’s just that more than admiration, the feeling flowing through his veins right now seems to be adoration. Eric always admired your every move, every single sentence that ever came out of your mouth. But now, he just can’t seem to contain himself as he watches you stumble over your own feet and try to balance yourself on the unmoving skateboard in the middle of the empty park, hands waving around your figure in a desperate need to not fall over and break your neck. (Which would never happen under Eric’s watch anyway. His reflexes are fast.)

“You look like a baby learning how to walk for the first time,” he gushes from the bench, your bags waiting at his feet. A wide grin is plastered onto his face as he watches you, his cheeks beginning to hurt from the constant stretch of the muscles.

“Very funny,” you sigh, stumbling over once again, making the board move with the kinetic motion of you stepping off of it, leaving Eric to stop it with his outstretched leg.

“You were so confident before,” he shakes his head, mocking you.

“Well, I tend to overestimate my abilities sometimes,” you shrug, a pout slowly appearing on your face as you move closer towards the male, obviously going to sit at the bench next to him. “It’s whatever, I don’t feel like skateboarding anymore–”

“You’re giving up already?” 

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he shakes his head, standing up and offering you his hand to take so he can bring you back up to your feet, “never back down, never what?”

“Eric, I’m not going to finish your TikTok references right now–”

“I said never back down never what?!” he hollers, forcefully tugging you to a standing position, the sigh escaping your lips only fueling him further with his ridiculous antics. “Never give up! That’s right, Y/N, very well. Now, let me help you, I promise it’s not as hard as it seems.”

“I mean, given the fact that even you can do it–”

Eric flashes you a stone cold look as a warning. He doesn’t really think the teasing is at place right now– you’re the one not capable of keeping balance on the skateboard. It’s not like you have any right to joke right now.

“Okay, I take it back.”

“Leave the jokes for when your legs don’t look like a freshy born horse’s with how much they’re shaking when you’re up on this thing, yeah?” he chuckles, hearing you snort out a laugh at the accuracy of his comment.

Eric should’ve known he was the one miscalculating his abilities to efficiently teach you how to skateboard before the act itself happened. He didn’t, though, and the thought only occurred to him the moment you started latching onto him like a koala to its favorite tree– all just so you could hold balance on the board beneath your feet.

Your legs are a little shaky– and so are Eric’s hands when they instinctively land on your waist as you latch onto his shoulders, steadying yourself. The boy is painfully aware of the layers of clothing preventing him from touching your bare skin, yet, his fingertips still tingle as they bear into your midriff, holding you steady and preventing you from falling.

“Now, this isn’t so hard,” you conclude, chuckling. Eric doesn’t find it in himself to look up at your face, knowing he’d go painfully red the second your eyes would meet. The close proximity of your body still makes him shy sometimes, despite the years of friendship you share, and so he keeps his gaze glued to the ground instead, clearing his throat before he speaks up again, trying to seem nonchalant and casual.

“I’ll move now, yeah?”

Without really waiting for your reply, his feet shift their position on the ground, dragging you across the road with him. Gentle steps at first, making sure you’re not too overwhelmed, then picking up speed so you move a little faster on the board. “Will you be okay if I let go?”

“I don’t know..? Hopefully…?” you say, voice wavering a little, nerves seeping through your tone.

“I’ll catch you if you fall, don’t worry,” he hums, feeling how you squeeze his shoulders for one last time before he lets go of your waist, watching the way you slide away on the skateboard. The pace isn’t too fast, yet, it’s still enough to make you grin widely at the boy, your body now used to the feeling, balance finally finding its way to you. 

“Do you want me to push you around for a bit?” he offers, relishing in the way you nod eagerly at him, the grin on your face making his heart squeeze on itself. If he could carve the muscle out of his chest and offer it to you, he would. In his eyes, you deserve everything in this world– how could he not just try and give it to you, little by little, all by himself?

Light steps nearing your figure, he gently pushes you in the back, watching as you slide farther and farther away from him. Every time he gently nudges you in the right direction, he earns himself a hearty giggle from you, the motion making you feel free and reckless– just like teenagers do when discovering the activity for the first time. “I was right! It’s fun!”

Eric can feel himself relishing in the moment fully. Your smile is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could engrave the sight of it into his memory forever. He knows that’s not possible, though, and so he pledges to try his hardest to make it appear on your face so much and so often that he has no chance to forget how it looks.

After you’re done and exhausted with the day, Eric makes it his quest to get you home safely before heading to his place. You complain about your feet hurting, and although the boy is doubtful of your whining, he still offers to drag you home as you stand on the skateboard, holding your hand the whole way. When he’s almost at your apartment complex, he feels the familiar star sticker glued to the back of his hand before you intertwine your fingers with his, running a thumb proudly over the gold plastic.

“A gold star for being a good teacher,” you note when your eyes meet, making the boy chuckle.

“Shouldn’t I be giving you one for being a good student? Is that not how things usually work?” 

“I give credit where credit is due,” you hum, nodding to yourself. “Besides, that’s not only for that. I just…” you trail off, as if too nervous to say the next words. “I just wanted to show gratitude to you, ‘cause I had a really good time today,” you say nonchalantly, still, shrugging. Eric feels his stomach churning. How can you be so casual with saying words that make his heart skip a beat?

“I should show my gratitude to you more often too, y’know.”

You shake your head at him, laughing like it’s funny. “Oh, Eric. You do it so often you don’t even realize it. You just have a different way of showing it than I do.”

Eric averts his gaze from you, chewing on his bottom lip in nervousness. He starts to wonder if he’s been too obvious with his feelings. Do you see him differently now?

The questions almost drown him out on the way towards your house. Somewhere along the way, he realizes the act of holding your hand feels natural to him now. Gazing at your interlocked fingers, he smiles to himself. He could get used to it– all of it.

He could get used to the people smiling at him and you on the street when they see you with fingers interlocked. He could get used to holding your hand every day, keeping you close. He could get used to your touches, hugs and skinship. He could get used to waking up to you in the same apartment as him, like that one time he locked himself out and you let him sleep over at your place. And to a certain extent, he already has gotten used to you– all of you. 

He’s used to texting you every day. He’s used to seeing you multiple times a week– because if he doesn’t, he misses you a little too much. He’s used to your movie nights and dancing with you in bars, shielding you from the looks of other greedy men wanting to get a piece of you. He’s used to the gold stickers you constantly provide him with as a gentle reminder of the unsaid feelings shared between the two of you. He’s used to your presence and your energy, he’s used to your teasing words and the memes you send in his Instagram DMs. If you were suddenly removed out of his life, he knows he’ll find it hard. It would feel like a piece of him was missing.

Some days, he tries to make himself believe that he’s content with what you two have right now. And he is, for the most part– but deep down, he knows he wants more. He always wanted something a bit more.

It shines through his actions on most days. It’s visible to everyone– the longing looks, the gentle touches. Jake once said Eric would jump out of a window if you asked him to, and after careful consideration, the boy had to shamefully agree with his roommate. Eric gets laughed at every time his cheeks blush when you give him too much special attention. He’s used to being called the ‘lover boy’ whenever you’re around. 

In front of you, he tries to hide his feelings as much as possible, though.

Sometimes, it slips out of him, though. In moments where the day slowly comes to its end and the atmosphere turns more tender. On days when the movie nights get moved to his apartment, because it’s closer to your university and you claim you’re too tired to walk all the way back to your place. Eric claims you’re just lazy, but the pout on your face tells him otherwise. 

On days when there is no one else in the apartment, just you two, and your conversation dies down. The boy is usually a chatterbox when it comes to watching movies with you– commenting on every single scene, making fun of the characters, teasingly spoiling bits and chunks of the plot for you– but it was a Friday night and you were snuggled up in your favorite hoodie, your bodies stuck tightly to each other on the sofa. There is a cloud of comfort, a huge curtain of intimacy falling over you two, and Eric is afraid that speaking up would ruin the sentiment. 

After a few minutes, he feels your head lay on his shoulder. The crown of your head is instantly more interesting than the movie playing on the TV, his eyes glossing over your relaxed expression. There is hair falling into your face and your eyelashes are kissing your cheekbones, your brain no longer focusing on the movie, but slowly dozing off instead. Eric mentally coos– it’s not often you fall asleep next to him, and so he somehow finds himself treasuring the moment. You look so peaceful, so beautiful– yet so unaware of it. His heart squeezes with tenderness, making sink a little into the sofa cushions so you’re more comfortable in using him as your head rest. He knows waking you up or moving you so you’re resting against the back of the sofa would be more convenient for your neck, but he selfishly relishes in the fact that you found comfort in the crook of his shoulder instead.

He can’t help but smile widely at your composure. You look small and vulnerable. You look like the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Eric indulges in the fact that he’s not watched right now, letting himself fully enjoy and admire your sheer existence. 

He acts on impulse when his lips softly land onto your forehead. Not much thought goes into the sentiment– he just sheerly answered his heart’s calling. 

You look dreamy. You look lovely. He’s in love with you, he thinks.

He lets himself settle deeper into the couch cushions. After no longer having to entertain you with his comments on the movie he’s seen 4 times already– The matrix– he finds himself bored enough of the familiar plot to doze off himself, forgetting about the promise he made to you to drive you home after the movie is over. 

He sleeps through your smile and the shake of your head, as well as you detaching your head off his shoulder, smiling at the unaware boy. Not yet asleep– just resting your eyes for a bit– you were a witness of the boy’s tender, loving ministrations. You disappear out of the apartment after the movie is over, crossing paths with Jake in the entrance hall giving you a quiet wave and a point towards his roommate sitting on the sofa, a gold star adorning the tip of his nose.

You just shrug before leaving. Jake just shakes his head at both of you, wondering when your time will finally come. Eric wakes up in the middle of the night to the TV off, asking himself if he should consider the sticker a silent invitation.

And after a while of careful consideration– laying awake and wondering of all the what-ifs, replaying every moment spent with you over and over in his mind, looking for the very obvious signs of reciprocation– he decides to just go for it. He decides to be the brave man he claims he is, and finally makes the first step.

Well, at least tries to. Because as it turns out, it’s much more difficult to invite someone out on a date if you’re already friends with them for a prolonged amount of time. Not only is it more nerve-wrecking, but also much more confusing to the other party– and after inviting you out to get boba in the new place downtown, he’s not so sure you are aware that you’re on a date with him. 

Not that Eric expected anything to change between the two of you instantly after going on a date– no, he’s completely fine with the dynamic you two have, and it’s one of the things he values the most about your friendship– he just thought the atmosphere would be… a little different.

Which is why he decides to start dropping not so subtle hints about his intentions. Brave, isn’t he?

First of all, he pays for your order. All after the 20 minutes you take standing outside of the boba store searching through the menu to find out what you’re going to get– and although Eric finds it endearing, he is also starting to get a little nervous.

“Didn’t know you were so indecisive,” he hums, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m not!” you grunt, shaking your head at your own antics. “I just don’t know what tastes good together. Should I just get one of the premade drinks on the menu? But I’m not really in the mood for any of these–”

“I’ll just get you a random one,” he sighs, “and you will have no other choice than to drink it.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“Then at least you have someone to blame,” he snickers, pushing the glass door open and entering the quiet boba store. He orders you a kiwi bubble tea with strawberry popping pearls– because he knows you enjoy how they come apart in your mouth– and after he comes outside with both of the drinks in either of his hands, he waves you off when you ask him how much yours was so you can pay him back.

“It’s on me,” he hums.

An over-exaggerated sigh escapes your mouth at that. “You’re paying? You never pay,” you exclaim and take the straw in between your lips, ready to taste the drink. You and Eric both know that what you said is a lie– he has no issue with paying for you, and he brings you random treats all the time– but for the sake of the next line, he decides to go along with it.

“Well, today is a different occasion, I guess,” he shrugs.

With that, you stop and stare at him with stars in your eyes, a teasing smile slowly overtaking your lips. You’re not stupid– you’re not oblivious the way he is– and so Eric thinks you finally got the hint. Or, at least he hopes so. “Is it?”

Suddenly too shy under your gaze, cheeks tinting light pink, the boy averts his gaze from you and walks down the street, expecting you to follow him. He might be brave enough to drop hints, but still not brave enough to admit to it explicitly.

Not when he drags you to the park and sits with you on the bench, people watching. Not when he casually drops his arm on the back of the bench behind you, gluing himself particularly close to your body. Not when he lets you try his drink, battling away the annoying voice inside of his head telling him that you just shared an indirect kiss. (‘Come on, Eric. You’re not a teenager anymore. Get it together.’)

He doesn’t admit to it in words, but he sure does in actions when he gives you his jacket when the evening gets chilly. He swears you look the most adorable in his red windbreaker, and in a moment of weakness, he puts his arm around your shoulders as you walk down the street, a selfish need of having you close to him winning above everything else.

“And what was so different about today, Eric?” you ask on the way to your apartment, gazing up at the beaming boy next to you. Are you teasing him again? Do you enjoy watching his misery?

Eric figures it’s for the best to tell you, though. He thinks it’s important to set the tone– because after today, it’s almost like nothing changed at all. The dynamic stays the same– and while he doesn’t think he hates it, he admits he’d just rather call you his.

So, despite the embarrassment, he chews on the bottom of his lip. You’re almost at your place already, and so he thinks it won’t hurt to talk about it now. If things go wrong, you can just go home and he can run to his apartment and violently cry into his pillow. 

“Well, I was thinking…” he starts, clearing his throat to buy himself some time and also trying to bite down the excessive nerves clawing at him from the inside, “I… you… I was hoping this wasn’t just like… a regular day out, you know…?”

Blinking at him a few times– because you must love to torture him, there is no other explanation– you shake you head at him. “No, Eric. I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Eric physically tears himself off you, your apartment complex now directly in front of him. Cracking his knuckles and taking a deep breath in to calm himself, he tries again. “I meant to… invite you out on a date today,” he proposes simply.

And in that moment, it’s like the whole world stops turning for a minute. Not only do you not give him any verbal answer, but your expression also stays the same as before– completely stoic and neutral, giving him no window into the way you feel about his suggestion. And you know what they say about Eric Sohn– he talks too much. Not only in situations where it’s inappropriate, but also in moments where he feels like there is nothing better to do than to fill the suffocating void that is the silence hanging over him– much like right now.

Eric rambles. “And- and I know I should’ve said that before making you go with me, but god, you don’t know how hard it is to make it clear to you that I’m trying to be more than friends with you without sounding absolutely fucking awkward!” he sighs, wetting his dry, chapped lips. 

“And I’m sorry if this changes your view of me, or something, but trust me, our friendship means to me so much more than just trying to make you date me, that was never my intention behind things, I do everything out of care for you, because you’re– you’re just everything to me–”

After the last line, he hears you chuckle. Your eyes finally meet, and he feels like he wants a car to run him over approximately 15 times to make sure all his bones are broken and his skull is smashed into pieces– he’s sure it would be more comfortable than the situation he put himself in right now.

“That was so cheesy,” you say, Eric’s stomach making a flip that might as well force acid up his throat. He won’t throw up, he won’t throw up, he won’t embarrass himself even more–

His hands shake. Suddenly, you take them into yours. 

He watches you carefully, ready to be let down. You step closer to him– surely, you’re going to give him a comforting hug as you tell him he read all the signs wrong and you don’t feel the same– before you lean into him, face inches away from his. Blinking, Eric suddenly registers your lips locking with his for a mere second, a soft, sweet caress of your mouth on his not giving him a chance to react– a chance to reciprocate– before you pull away, making him freeze.

“You always make things more complicated than they need to be,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Uh…” he lets out, like he lost all the words in his vocabulary. It’s the first time Eric Sohn has nothing to say– and it feels like a miracle. In reality, he’s taken aback and still processing.

The sight of him like this only makes you grin wider. It’s no question that you find him adorable like this, so bashful and surprised, cheeks turning red and lips slightly ajar, big eyes staring into yours. “Cat got your tongue?” you tease, letting go off his hands and placing your palms onto his cheeks instead, thumbs tracing his cheekbones. His brain might be blank right now, but his orbs still hold so many emotions– ones that make you soften and cave in on yourself, overflowing with tenderness. Hands automatically resting on your waist, Eric holds you close to his chest.

“Put your mouth to use in a different way, then,” you joke, watching the boy in front of you go into factory reset.

Lips crashing against yours, the boy kisses you like you’re his lifeline. Chasing after you, he puts all the words he’s said before and the ones he keeps hidden inside for now into the action, having you melt in his hold. He feels your breathing on his face, making him deeply aware of every detail, of every miniscule shift of your figure, every tiniest movement of your lips and the almost inaudible sound you let out when his teeth tug on your bottom lip as he pulls away for air, being a little overly-excited.

Foreheads resting together, the two of you in your own little bubble no one gets to peer into even on the busy street, Eric watches as you look down and take something out of your pocket– something he so deeply recognises, making his heart thump a thousand miles an hour, if it wasn’t already.

Another kiss is given to his lips– for good measure– before you press another one to the tip of his nose and one more peck into the middle of his forehead, making his legs feel like jelly. You follow your lips with the star sticker attached to your thumb, sticking it to your lover’s skin. 

“That’s a gold star for being adorable,” you say, making him roll his eyes. “And for the nice date.”

“Don’t I get one for being a good kisser too?” he pries, watching as you scoff at his prideful question.

“I don’t know, Sohn,” you shrug, “I’m not sure yet, but I could be convinced–”

He cuts you off by locking your lips again, ready to prove you of his abilities. With the gold sticker proudly glimmering on his forehead, he realizes that maybe you were right– and all along, it has always been this simple.

[st4rtar0t]

What's next in love?

DM for personal readings

Picture 1

I sense that you may have been through a completion or some kind of ending, either or a relationship or a situation ship. you may have been feeling drained by all that has happened within the last week. You may even feel like you have bad luck in love or love and relationships may not be your strongest suits. You are being guided to work on yourself, the only reason things are not working out is because the universe is saving you for someone special. and you will be overjoyed when you meet them. But before that you will have to grow spiritually and emotionally because I see that you are not ready for a long term connection and yet you keep looking for it in wrong people. Deep down you fear being vulnerable and deep connections, you will have to work on it first.

You will meet them right after a spiritual awakening or when you will be working towards your life purpose. You are constantly in survival mode, be more open and at ease.

You may have to pause on dating somebody for sometime or you may feel like you don't want to date anyone anymore but whatever the case may be I see that you will be working more on yourself and your goals.

Things that might resonate : stars or stargazing, paperwork or court, smiling emoji or stickers, train or bus, butterflies, a gold ring or a bracelet.

Picture 2

okayy so i sense that you may be waiting for someone to contact you or you may have sent an impulsive text to somebody. or you may need to made a decision in some time. I do see that there is somebody that is interested in you and the feelings are mutual, you may already know who i am talking about but there is some kind of external forces that is stopping this person from approaching you, either you have somebody else or they are talking to somebody else. i do see that there is a third party or this person may feel like you have somebody else now. for some of you this may be an ex. I do see that you do want them back for some. but overall i see that you already know the person who is your future partner.

I also see that they may be connected to your family or you may meet them through your family. I see that they may always have earphones plugged in or they may be connected to music.

You may be wishing to be in a relationship with them because they seem to be your ideal type. one of you may have to move on from your past. their or your name may translate to wish/hope/desire etc.

things that might resonate : clock or clock tower, office work, untuned guitar, blood ties, inner circle, yes, 21, 31, 46.

Picture 3

I sense that you guys may be thinking of moving out or changing locations soon. You may meet this person while travelling or they may be your neighbour in the new neighbourhood. I see that some of you may be talking to somebody who lives at a distance or you will be talking soon, whatever the case may be, i see that this is somebody new. This person maybe rich or they belong to a respected family. For some of you this person might be your future spouse. They may have a deep voice or husky voice. You guys may not be considering a romantic relationship at first but the feelings will increase over time. I sense that you are really intuitive yourself and you already be having dreams about them. I see that they may offer some kind of help to you, both financial and physical.

They may be an air or earth sign, especially Aquarius and Taurus. They may have long hair or thick hair. Their is really significant here. They may work in the education sector or medical sector.

I see that they find you really attractive and charming. You may be wearing yellow or yellow may be really significant in the first meeting.

Things that might resonate : Butterflies, crows, black cats, white, river or water body, cloudy day, 10,5, 17, library or books.

[chronically-ghosted]

stay gold, baby boy

rating: 18+ (expliiiiicit)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: almost 6K

summary: six months into your friends-with-benefits situation, you institute a new game. A gold star on the board every time Dieter is a good boy. Today, he gets bingo . . . for wearing real pants. 

warnings: friends with benefits (with more feelings), oral (m receiving), dom/sub dynamics (guess who subs today!), talks of edging, hair pulling, creampie, piv sex, praise kink, my mother raised me to have better taste in men but fuck it

a/n: remember when i posted this picture? And then this one? Remember how you could hear me yelling from space? Well, @sp00kymulderr has added fuel to the fire – Dieter and stickers. I can’t explain myself except that I was horny and I wanted to take his pants off with my teeth. So I did. 

✨gif credit goes to the ever incredible, talented, and enabler of my dieter fantasies @perotovar! she saw me floundering with the header and immediately was like 'hold please i can make his baby cow eyes even better'✨

🤍Masterlist

With your foot on the low table, your ass firmly planted on the middle poofy cushion of the dumpster bin couch at the back of the trailer, thumbnail nibbled between your teeth, you have to admit it’s starting to get a little embarrassing. It’s honestly such a bad look.

Not that he would ever shame you for it. In fact, he’d probably like it. 

And it’s not like you waited for him here all day. You had things to do as one of the co-screenwriters on this film. You had things to do and people to see and stuff to organize – all of which had nothing to do with Dieter fucking Bravo.

Okay, so a lot of it actually had to do with him. Lots of scene rewrites, lots of notes from the studio, lots of instances where the two of you had to put your heads together and come up with a solution that made the studio happy and didn’t make you want to claw your eyes out artistically speaking. 

Which had led to this. 

And the past six months of whatever this is. Working together led to seeing each other (outside of work), to eating with each other, to fucking each other – with the line firmly drawn there. 

Whatever you may say about Dieter, the man could compartmentalize in a way that would make Marie Kondo weep with joy. By the way he treated you on set, no one in their right mind would ever have guessed he knew what you looked like naked. Or that he knew your left nostril twitched just before you came.

The same could be said for you too. Out of boredom one morning in the grocery store, you bought a trashy magazine with his face emblazoned across the top – Dieter Bravo and His Lonely Hearts Club. You weren’t one for the gossip rags, but flipping through it, not a single one of his “club members” mentioned his raging praise kink. You bought the damn thing on the spot, giving them all a consolation prize of some sort. Sorry, ladies, guess I win. Ha. Ha.

But, at the edge of the cushion, eyes occasionally flicking between the door and the failing darkness outside, you didn’t feel much like you’d won anything. 

In fact, you’d lost. Big time. When all of this had been your stupid idea in the first place. 

It had been your idea (and your initiative) to buy a packet of gold star stickers. Like the kind teachers use with their first graders. Actually, exactly like the ones teachers use for their first graders. You couldn’t form words when the woman at the education supply store ringing you up asked, “oh, what grade do you teach?”. You just tossed a twenty at her and booked it, your face painfully hot for a fairly innocuous purchase. 

But all of that was his fault for dropping a praise kink and a teacher kink on you all at once the night after you jokingly spanked him with a ruler in front of the director, in-front of his co-star, because he wouldn’t agree to a line change, and he had to excuse himself from the room. 

A month later and he forgoes touching himself for a gold star. He agrees to your line changes without argument for a gold star. He picks you up in the morning and drives you home at night for a gold star (you could drive yourself, but there’s always that last minute thing you need to talk to him about so you do it just because it’s easier, really).

He lets you come, over and over again, and keeps nothing for himself – all for a gold star. 

Someone is bound to figure it out. They have to. Six months in and you’re getting sloppy. Obvious. What the fuck would you be doing in his trailer at seven o’clock at night after a full day of shooting unless you’re fucking him? 

But you, worryingly, can’t find it in you to care. 

You had lost your mind, that’s what you lost. Because tonight is the night Dieter gets his final gold star. It’s his reward but you’re about to vibrate out of your skin with want. 

(It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen each other in two weeks and by the third day, an ache had settled in behind your breastbone, one that clutched your phone in your hand, and forced your eyes to the screen every minute, checking for a new text message. 

He called on day five, by the way.)

Your neck snaps up when you hear voices outside of the trailer. Laughter, his. 

You suddenly feel the need to flatline against the floor in case anyone might see you.

Fuck, and how are you supposed to explain yourself if the someone he is with follows him into the trailer? Too many frightfully bad scenarios and you’re rooted to the floor, unable to make a single decision. 

The metal latch clinks and his trailer door swings wide open.

“Yeah, man, I’ll catch you tomorrow.” 

You can hear a deep, “see ya” from the other side (maybe Daryl from craft services?) and the scrap-metal trailer squeaks, as the lock clicks shut. 

Dieter scratches his cheek, surveying the trailer as if some part of him knows something is different, but his conscious mind can’t figure it out. 

Until he turns. And nearly leaps out of his skin.

“Fuckin’ – what are you doing in here? Wait – I thought you left town to scope out the new location in San Diego.”

You want to answer him. You know how – open your mouth and tell him the trip’s been delayed for a few days, nothing serious, timeline bullshit – but you can’t. 

It’s officially embarrassing.

It’s embarrassing how turned on by Dieter Bravo you are.  

Hair in all kinds of directions, skinny cloth bracelet loose around his wrist, he had pushed up the sleeves of his henley shirt, exposing the thickly drawn triangle over his forearm and the clear one near his wrist. His hand with the rings hangs by his side and something inside of you silently whines. 

But what really sets you off, what really makes this embarrassing and terrible because there’s no bluffing here, no hiding your cards and folding – nothing you can do to keep spit from flooding your mouth the longer you look –

He’s wearing pants. 

Black with loose belt loops. Zipper and all. A silver button sitting between his hips. Fuck. Just like you told him to. Fuck fuckfuck.

You’re briefly aware when he says your name and you have to make a physical effort to tear your eyes away from that glinting silver eye winking up at you.

Dieter’s frowning, knowing silence isn’t really your thing. 

“Are you okay? Why are you –,”

As though it had called his name, his gaze drifts from your face to the table between you and him. Where his scorecard rests with four stars in the Good column, and shockingly, none in the Bad.   

His mouth parts, eyes going dark, as the realization hits him like a mack truck.

“Delays,” you say suddenly, preemptively, knowing that normal people usually have some sort of preamble before tearing each other’s clothes off. You stand up a bit straighter, tilt your jaw away from him, gaze leveling him from the end of your nose. You have got to get this thing under control. “Frank ran into some scheduling issues with the boat for the lake scene so, until further notice, the trip to San Diego has been delayed.” 

He blinks slowly as if he’d been struck over the back of the heat, mouth parted. He has such fucking gorgeous, fucking perfect lips –

“So you’re here?” he asks, his voice low, disbelieving. 

You scoop up the scorecard and step over the table, your shoes long since gone. It’s like his vision narrows the closer you come; he is transfixed, gaze on you as if molded at the seams, as you step up to him. You tap him on the chest once with the corner of the scorecard, excitement and nerves and that ache making you tremble despite your confident appearance. 

“So I’m here.” 

“On the last day of the week.” Words thick, as if all the moisture had been sucked out of his mouth.

“On the last day of the week.”

“When I,” he swallows thickly, “when I should get my reward.” 

God, this kind of power trip should not be making you this wet. 

You lift your gaze from his chest, taking in his beautifully dumb-struck face. 

“You will.” You nod. “And do you know why?”

His breath quickens, lip between his teeth, when you scratch off the final star from the package and stick it to the Good column. 

“Because I was a good boy?” 

You toss the scorecard behind you, it clatters onto the table, and you cup the back of his hot neck.

“Because you were a very good boy.” 

He stumbles back, knees unsteady, when you kiss him. You see his eyes a split second before you close yours and hot electricity swoops down to the pit of your stomach. It would be mortifying if you just fucked him right here and now – he does deserve something extra special – but fuck – you want his whole hand inside of you.

His warm palm slides across your jaw, pulling you into him, and Dieter breathes, deep and long, inhaling as much as he can. You don’t think he realizes that he’s picked you up off the ground with his arm around your back until he opens his eyes, vision hazy and off-center. 

“Go lock the door, baby.” 

He nods and puts you back down. You slip off your jacket as he bolts the trailer door shut.

Dieter’s mouth drops open when he turns around and sees you on your knees.

Shit, you should have stolen some knee pads from the costume department. 

“Really?” 

You smile at him because he asks like a kid that just got offered a puppy for Christmas. You reach towards him and he takes your hand, unsteady on weak knees

“For as long and as much as you want.”  

You palm him and Dieter groans, mouth-closed at the sensation, the hard ridge of the metal zipper not one he is entirely familiar with. At least, not like this. Beneath the warm press of your palm, you feel him thicken, harden, and you press more, digging your fingers into his thighs. The muscles in his legs tense, his mouth falls open, as his hips cant forward, desperate for the new weight of the zipper. 

“And I won’t make you wait, Dieter,” you say, eyes tripping up from where your hand sits, up to the flash of exposed tummy where his pants have ridden down and his shirt slid up, into his almost surprised gaze. “You’ve been very good, wearing this for me, but I want you to learn why it’s important to wear pants with buttons.” 

“I-I t-t-thought,” he tries, voice abruptly cutting off when you nuzzle the constrained bulge in his pants. He tries again, eyes slamming shut as if to stifle the sensation of your warm breath so near to where he needs you the most. “I thought i-it was so I d-din’t – didn’t look bad.” 

Your face still pressed into his crotch, you briefly massage his calves, then the backs of his thighs. You cup the curve of his ass through the starchy back pockets, which is remarkably prominent now that he’s in something else than baggy sweatpants.

You shake your head, nose dragging along his hot length, against the space between his hip bone and his cock, smiling. 

“Baby, you know I like how you look. I always want you to be comfortable.” You look up and meet his eyes. The remaining brown not yet wholly consumed by a blurry, heated darkness softens. Somewhere beneath the hazy, disarming feelings of lust currently filling his head like a bike tire, he’s still your Dieter. Or – well, wait – at least the Dieter you know. The Dieter you have impossibly fun times with. The Dieter who makes you laugh like no one else. The Dieter that can make you fall apart until you’re a gooey, dripping mess and he still manages to stitch you back together. The Dieter that keeps you up at night thinking he might possibly want something more. “But this is so much more fun.”

Grounding your chest against his thighs, holding yourself against him as leverage, you sink your teeth into the corner of the fabric fastening his pants together. Eyes up at him again, you tug and his cock is pushed up against your tits from the force of the pull. He rocks forward, an airy gasp escaping his mouth, and the button gives, the lip of the fabric sliding back as the silver disk slips through the hole. Now your touch is unimpeded by rough fabric when you lean forward and kiss him just below the waistband of his black boxers. 

It takes you a second to realize that Dieter Bravo is wearing underwear at all and you smirk up at him.

Something about your gaze makes the tips of his ears go red, as if he had been caught being very naughty. His big hand cups from your jaw to your ear, as if trying to placate you, beg you not to be mad this close to his cock. 

“You said I had to dress u-up,” he says, eyes wide and round. God, he’s trying to be so good. One week of the rating system and Dieter Bravo is a trembling mess. Despite your wildly beating heart, you smirk, your thighs shaking briefly at the sudden rush of tenderness you feel for the man in front of you. You hide your own blush by mouthing that open spot just below his tummy and above his cock, wetting the black material with your tongue. Before he can whine about it, you pull back just barely, enough to curl your fingers around both his black underwear and the pants he wore for you. Just as you begin to pull down, you nip the zipper between your teeth and slowly, slowly, rubbing your nose against him, tug the metal teeth apart. His pants open and Dieter groans loudly. He’s already so sensitive. 

For a mouthy, ego-driven bastard, he really did have a magnificent cock. Flushed at the base, thickest you’d ever had inside you, and he’s leaking silvery threads from the head. The vein thickly pulsating on the side makes you wonder how he hasn’t passed out from all the blood rushing to his cock. 

You lick that vein, that beating pulse, and his knees buckle. His massive hand grips your shoulder and Dieter shakes his head, his mouth wrenching open.

“Please, please — mhmm — don’t tease. I-I can’t – you haven’t – please.” 

As if you would be cruel to him. You feel rather dizzy, elated on the idea that you wield this much power over him. That he trusts you with all of him. There it comes again, that arching ache in your chest. 

“I’m just trying to get myself ready for you,” you confess quietly. “I’m not trying to hurt you.” 

Dieter swallows something large in his throat, panic receding from his eyes. His smile is small and his touch on your cheek is light.

“I know.”

And you weren’t lying. You’d never forget the sound of your jaw popping and cracking the morning after you sucked him off three times before you let him come. Dieter is shockingly big, annoyingly only when he uses it against you or makes you tell him over and over just how big he is before giving it to you. For now, you just want to remind him how very appreciative you are that he gives it to you at all. 

Eyes decidedly looking away from the warmth on his face, you squeeze the backs of his thighs as you relax your jaw as much as you can. Above you hear him huff with his mouth shut as you start to take him in, your tongue wetting that soft skin on the underside of his cock. One move forward and you’ve wet him halfway, tongue massaging that vein. Another drop of your head and you’ve taken him completely.

“Fuck,” Dieter murmurs, the hand on your shoulder tightening. Your heart pounds in your chest all the harder when he takes his other hand and knots your hair with his fingers. By the twitching of his thighs beneath your palms, you know it’s taking every ounce of his restraint to not buck his hips forward. “That’s it that’s my girl you take me so fucking good you feel so fucking good.”

The thing about your mouth that is markedly different from your pussy: you can’t release your gag reflex to take more of him. But fuck, you want him to fuck the back of your throat – you just might drown before it happens. 

He smells surprisingly clean as your nose inches closer and closer to his skin. With each pull, you slide your tongue down the other side, until it pokes through and licks where you haven’t reached with your mouth yet, inches from his pelvis. He shudders when you use the tip of your tongue. 

“Oh my god, your mouth, baby, your mouth.” The words dribble out of his slack mouth, fingers flexing in your hair as if he can mimic pushing your head down further. You pull all the way off him, tongue catching the rim of his cock and he drops his head back against his shoulders and moans. The sound of it makes your pussy throb and you breathe out your nose to stifle your own noises. This is about him. He did good. He was a good boy the whole week. 

You replace your mouth with your hand. Sufficiently wet from the way you slobbered all over his cock, you use a fist around his flushed head to smear pre-cum all the way down to the base of him. You brush his balls with your knuckles, just as you fit the tip between your lips, sucking – and Dieter bucks, hard. 

“Ngh – shit! S-sorry!” His nails dig into his thighs, eyes squeezing shut as silvery threads spurt out from his cock. 

Maybe you’d gone too far with the whole sticker thing and he really thought this was another test. His cheeks are burnt pink, his chest heaving and it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. 

“Dieter,” you cry softly, gently, comfortingly. He still doesn’t open his eyes, not even when you resume stroking him. You lick the soft skin of his balls and his gasp punches the air out of his lungs, his eyes splitting open. He looks down at you, thighs trembling and you squeeze him gently. Not to edge him or punish him, but to make this last a bit longer for him. “Dieter, take your shirt off and sit down.” 

He can’t move fast enough. He yanks the henley over his shoulders, the collar scraping his hair up in wild directions. He goes to sit but his thighs are shaking too much and he just sort of tumbles onto his ass. Smiling, you take your own shirt off, hoping to save this particular bra reveal for another time, but fuck, this time is as good as any. Despite his panting and squirming, his gaze rolls from your face to your tits. Emerald green with black lace, this is far too nice for a work bra and it properly communicates to him that you were going to fuck him whether or not he was going to get that final gold star. The realization is visible as it crosses his mind, bleeding hungry black in his eyes. 

You take off his pants all the way, before sliding your own jeans down and to the floor. His roving gaze catches the matching panties and the noise in his throat is deep, like a smothered grunt. 

“Now, I’m going to suck you off no matter what,” you say as you crawl in between his legs, before leaning back and sitting on your heels. You smooth your hands down his thighs, near his red, stark cock, but not touching. Dieter’s breathing hitches in anticipation, not sure where to put his hands or his gaze. “But I want you to answer one question for me first.” 

He nods rapidly, spreading his knees further for you as if to remind you there’s other places he could be fucked. 

“Why did you think I was going to punish you today?”

You’ve asked this question paraphrased a dozen times, usually when you both know the answer: he came without asking, or he came by himself, or any of the dozen reasons Dieter liked to push your buttons, only for you to break him as far as he can go. But today, there’s no sultry edge, no double meaning. Your question is sincere and it takes him a moment to understand. He swallows as his eyebrows tug down on his forehead, something vulnerable flashing in his eyes before a look of uncertainty crosses his face.

“We’ve never had sex just to have sex.” He says it like a question. He settles into the floor one hand going behind his head, the linear tattoo on his forearm dark like a third eye. “Not that I’m complaining but it’s always a competition, or because we’re bored, or you wanna work out some personal shit because of the costume department. I know this is my reward, but I figured there had to be some kinda catch to it.” 

You frown deeper than him. “There’s no way we haven’t had normal sex.”

Something like a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Define normal sex.”

Now it’s your turn to go warm across the cheeks. “I mean, like . . . outside of . . . our roles. Where there aren’t roles at all. It’s just . . .”

You break off for the third time, the look in his eyes forcing you to snap your mouth shut before you say something incriminating like, just us. 

Dieter shakes his head. “No, we haven’t.” 

“You’re telling me in six months, that’s never happened once?” You adjust on your heels and cross your arms. “It’s not like you can remember every time we’ve had sex.”

“I do.” This, coming from him, is not a question. It’s an irrefutable statement that you don’t seem able to refute with a no you don’t. There is no room for arguing. 

Driving right on through the heat of your cheeks, that ache returning, you shake your head. “Then doesn’t that get old? Having to play games every single time?” 

Dieter pouts as he thinks, eyes on the roof of the trailer. “Sometimes, but I don’t mind. Not enough to want to stop fucking you.” 

“So, after a week of nothing, you were totally willing to let me edge you within an inch of your life? Let me treat you badly?”

Dieter smirks and it suddenly feels like you’re the one under him. “Sure, but you like me too much to keep it going for too long. And you like watching me come.” 

Your teeth grind together at this very bold accusation, your entire face blazing. Weren’t you supposed to be domming him today??

His feet slide out beside you and Dieter is the very picture of arrogance, his arm still tucked behind his head. He drums his fingers on his stomach.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he says, the smirk around his mouth soft, “I like you too.” 

It doesn’t. Not really. Not when his words spear through you hot and hard, landing in your chest like a landmine. Fuck. 

Fuck.

“Oh, so this is all for me, then?” You ignore the fact that you’ve slipped back into your role in active defiance of talking about this anymore, and crawl forward until your forearms frame his head. That teasing contentment fades from his face as he watches you, eyes following a line that only he can see from your nose, lips, chin, throat and tits. Your hair slips off your shoulder, darkening the light on his face when you straddle his waist. “But what about you? Don’t you want to come?”

He nods, slower than before, but only to keep from breaking eye contact with you. Light as feathers, Dieter trails his fingers up the backs of your thighs, over the curve of your ass, to settle into your hips. His mouth parts in anticipation, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“I do,” he says, rolling his neck as if he can see more of you this way. “I really fuckin’ do.”

“What a coincidence.” You shift down, dragging the wet patch on the emerald green underwear beneath your drooling cunt, shift until it slides across his half-hard cock and Dieter’s hands dig into your hips, a groan breaking off in the back of his throat. His eyes slip half-closed, a thick, smoky black enveloping that beautiful brown. “So do I.” 

Grinding down over so slightly, you roll your hips once more – Dieter tenses, his hands easing to the tops of your thighs – before sitting back on his knees. 

“Now relax, baby, you’ve earned it.” 

You drop forward over his hips, open your mouth, and slurp him up between your lips. 

The noise that comes out of his chest is broken, knocked loose, split down the middle. You take him all in one, down until your nose is tickled by his coarse hairs, and you swallow. He is immediately, instantly, rock hard and dribbling. You swallow again and his hands dive into your hair, knotting the strands around his fingers, the way a rider draws up the reins of his horse. He goads you down with just gentle pressure, needy and demanding all at once, and you take him, and you take him, and you take him until the blunt head prods the back of your throat and you gag, throat constricting, and Dieter’s eyes roll back in his head. 

“Shit, that’s too fucking good.”

You breathe out your nose, pulling up just enough to keep him off your reflex, but instead you hollow out your cheeks and suck, tongue pressing up against him and around that hammering vein. 

And here, here comes the sound you’ve wanted from him all night –

Dieter whines, high and keening, his neck straining, your skull pinching from where he pulls. Between your thighs, the emerald green is completely ruined, buffed out dark in the wet. 

The vein throbs again and you nearly drop onto your elbows, not caring if you choke or drown or sputter, you want him in your mouth, you want that salty, gooey taste of him that you find you can’t seem to lick up enough. You want him inside you –

With a grunt that morphs into a groan as it rises up his chest, he tugs hard enough on your hair that the pain splits your mouth open, head tugged back enough that he slips out of you, a thread of pre-cum from your puffy lips to the tip of his blunt head. 

You lied. This wasn’t entirely for him. 

You can feel your lips twist into a snarl. “Dieter, what are you –,”

He kisses you with such a force, that noise in his chest is transferred to yours, a collision that sparks a causal nexus and his own desperation bleeds with your own. The kiss is messy, dizzying, spit and pre-cum smearing across swollen lips and wet tongues. He twists his fingers deeper into your hair, as if he can consume you through the bowl of your skull. 

Your name is something that tumbles, falls, drips from him, his mouth tilted a fraction of an inch away from yours. Eyes dark, full, a beast that howls for the moon in your eyes. 

He’s going to fuck your brains out on the floor of this rickety-ass trailer. 

Dieter tugs you forward, drags you onto your knees over him as he settles beneath you. Your fingers knock with his in a fight to reach your panties first, to shove them down your hips and thighs, get them to the floor. 

Dieter’s flushed, pupils dark, big hands grappling against the weight of you as he pulls you onto him. You are so aroused, so sunken into the smoke of lust, you go as you are moved, his cock smearing apart your wet pussy. Dieter sits up, eyes locking onto where you’ve nearly become a single creature, and then he hesitates. 

Sanity seems to ring his bell, for just a moment. Without waiting, he sucks two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his spit, and you can see what he’s about to do just before he moves. You shake your head, knees aching from carrying your weight against the flat trailer floor, and sit up off him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Don’t need it,” you mutter before licking into his mouth. He drops his head back to let you sink your tongue between his lips. Both hands wrapped around his jaw, you thumb his earring and he grunts out the side of his mouth. “I want –,”

His big hands settle and it’s like he dropped a thousand pound weight between your ribs. You drop, right onto him, his cock forcibly shoving you apart in a single thrust. Dieter barks out a moan, his hands clutching your spine, teeth going for your shoulder to muffle anything else that threatens to escape him. 

You swear your nerves are on fire.

He always takes his time with you, for your benefit, and his. He can be maddening and incessant and demanding, right up until this part, the part where he could actually hurt you. Right then, he waits. Lets you come to him. Let you take as much as you want and he holds you tight.

But this, this is you taking all you want and then some. 

In the split second you allow for your bodies to recognize the give and the take, the swell and the invasion, you meet his gaze. 

No roles. No games. No landmines. 

Exposure. 

Blistering and brittle.

Safety. 

You curl your toes underneath you, grip his shoulders, and slide up on an inhale. On an exhale, you thrust down and you don’t know who cries out louder. 

Dieter pulls you to him, arm banded around your back, the other to balance as he leans back to meet your downward strokes with his upward thrusts. His fingers pinch the clasp of your bra and the straps slide off your shoulders, your frantic bouncing knocking those emerald cups loose. 

“Oh, yeah, oh fuck yeah.” He mouths at your collarbone, tonguing the sweat that blooms across your skin. Your short huffs have your chest trembling, a shudder disrupting your breath when he uses the blunt edge of his teeth against the soft curve of your breast. His nose against your skin, he turns his head and licks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks, licks, your rapid rise and fall catching your sensitive peak against the tops and bottoms of his teeth. He uses the barest hint of pressure and your back arches. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, repeating that same pattern with his tongue, while his fingers flick your hardened bud. 

You think you’re going to melt, fracture and ooze into this hot pool of pleasure that hums between your legs. 

“Fuck, Dieter,” your own voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high, cut short every time his hips meet yours in a harsh slap, “I can’t –,” 

He rubs up against something truly devastating inside of you and immediately your legs give out. You topple into him, arms around his neck, nose pressed up against his jaw. You feel his overheated skin, a balm, a solidifying force, against your cheek. The whirling inferno in your head soothes. A drop of sweat from his hairline trails down by your eye and you lick it. 

“Make me come, Dieter,” you whisper for him, of him, beg in a way that only he can hear. You nuzzle his earring and he keens. “Please – I need it – n-n-need you.”

Open-mouthed, breath hot, flush down to his chest, he slithers the hand against your back between your warm bodies and finds your clit. Drags his thumb across it as his hips pound up into you – you can’t hear what he says in your ear, the edge you’re dangling over loud and pulsing – and then there’s a softness against your throat.

The white spark between your thighs erupts and you come so hard you scream. A release. Controlled and contained brightness now spilling out everywhere, you can feel it as you soak his lap. It drips and winds down, and it drunkenly slides off you. Finally, you curl into him, a muddled tingle radiating out across your nerves. 

You sink into your skin again and hear him, still whispering, still talking.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come it’s okay baby I’ve got you I’ve got you I’m here – I’m gonna – g-gonna –  oh, shit,”

His hips thrust up one more time before a full body shudder yanks his words and the air right out of his mouth. You melt as his cum floods your insides, the warm pulses intoxicating in the place he so forcefully claimed for his own. His shoulders curved towards you, his hand pinches the knot of your spine as if to steady himself, palm scalding against your skin. In your exhaustion, your sweaty forehead falls against his. 

He doesn’t seem to mind.

Seconds mold into minutes, minutes into maybe hours then days. 

Dieter’s trembling elbow finally weakens and with his arm around your back, he tips you both backwards. 

His cock rubs up inside of you in a new way and your cunt clenches involuntarily. You both groan when his cum leaks out of you, squeezed out by the contraction. You shift your hips to lay fully on him, and his cock slides out, but his arm around you remains.

It remains long after your breathing settles, long after the sweat dries and your exposed skin grows cold. The longer you lay together, the more you feel he’s going to start stroking you, touching you in a way that a fuck buddy shouldn’t. But he doesn’t. He keeps you close but doesn’t move. 

The feeling, the ache in your chest. It’s soothed and hastened by the beating of his heart beneath yours, your ear lying flat against his chest. It beats so loudly for you.

For some unfathomable reason, you glance up at the window. It’s dark out, the sun set and gone. For all you know, you two might be the only two people on the entire lot.

“Dieter.” His name sticks in your mouth. “Dieter, I –,”

“Five stars?” 

You blink, lifting your head for the first time in ages, sweat on his skin almost suctioning your ear to his chest. He’s grinning, curls matted and damp against his forehead.

He reaches up to the table behind him and snags that stupid bingo card, along with that packet of shiny gold star stickers.

This feeling, you can contain it. 

For now. 

Smirking down at him, you peel off one of the bigger stars and with your thumb, you press it into the center of his forehead. 

“Five stars, Dieter. Five star dick.” 

His smile widens. 

[poppy-in-the-woods]

Braids

(Ok, let's see if I remember how to do this fanfic thing.)

Plot: Inspired by this post and the comments. Noah and reader have a little tradition after sex. Nick and the others find out, but teasing Noah backfires on them.

Pairing: Noah x Reader

Word count: 1571

Tags: fluff, smut, oral (both female and male receiving), profanity, p in v.

It started almost as a joke. One day, after sex, Noah’s mane was so messy you asked if he wanted you to brush it. Surprisingly, he said yes, so you grabbed your paddle brush and untangled his dark locks. Next time, you bought a brush specifically for him and had it ready on your nightstand. He sat still and let you run the brush through his hair, occasionally letting out soft moans.

“This is so relaxing,” he said.

It was for you, too, so you did it every time after you had sex from then on. The first time you braided his hair, you were joking about giving him a gold star for every orgasm he had given you (and it had been a busy night). You didn’t have gold star stickers, but you wanted to give him a little extra something. While brushing his hair, your eyes wandered over your vanity, landing on the little plastic box of hair ties you had bought the day before. You sectioned the pertinent hair and braided four little braids on the side of his head.

“Now you got your medals,” you said, half joking.

But he didn’t take it as a joke, not at all. He demanded his recognition every time you had sex from then on (he also liked the feeling of your nimble fingers working his hair, but he wouldn’t tell you that).

Then he went on tour and you missed him. A lot. It was usually hard to sleep without him next to you on the bed, when he was on tour it was extra hard. Fortunately, you were going to be able to join them for the stop closest to your home. You talked on the phone the previous day, before the show, all excited to finally be able to sleep in the same bed again and smother each other in affection.

“I can't wait to be with you again, hug you and kiss you,” you said.

“Yeah, me too,” he responded. “I dreamed of you yesterday,” he told you.

“Yeah? Was it a nice dream?” you wanted to know.

“It was. We had sex all day, and you gave me a lot of braids,” he laughed.

“Well, maybe we can make it come true,” you replied, playfully.

“I can’t wait. See you tomorrow, babe.”

Little did you two know that Folio was listening (he didn’t mean to snoop, it just happened!), and he ran to the others.

“Guys, I have finally solved the mystery!” he announced.

“What mystery?” Jolly asked absentmindedly, focused on his guitar.

“Noah’s braids!”

“I thought they were just braids,” Nick chimed in. “You know, that he was experimenting with new hairstyles and such.”

“They’re not just braids!” Folio announced. “Y/N gives them to him after sex.”

“How does that make them ‘not just braids’?” Jolly asked.

“Knowing Noah, they’re fucking medals” Nick.

Jolly chuckled at the pun, but he agreed. The number of braids never followed a pattern, at least not one he could see. The braids being visual representations of how much he had been ‘loving’ his girlfriend were as good an explanation as any.

The boys got their confirmation the day after the concert. You had been to the show the night before, hanging out and partying with them after, so they all slept in; not you and Noah, though. He woke you up at eight with a bountiful breakfast and after a while of cuddling and relaxing together, watching TV, he began kissing your neck and slipping his hands in your underwear, and you felt him getting hard against your ass.

“Shall we go back to the bed?” you asked.

“Nah. Let me finger you first,” he said.

“But you’re so hard,” you protested while he ran his fingers through your wet folds.

“And you’re so wet, and I barely touched you,” he chuckled. “Let me please you in all the other ways I can before getting inside you,” he whispered into your ear.

You nodded as his fingers penetrated you, moving deliciously in and out, curling and massaging your G-spot, eliciting a moan from you.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear how much you like it,” he said, voice low with desire.

He finger-fucked you, rubbing your clit with his free hand, until you came undone. You were still recovering from that when he slipped out from behind you and knelt on the floor before you. Maintaining eye contact, he hooked his fingers on the elastic of your pajama shorts and yanked them along with your panties. You hissed as the cold air hit your core, still sensitive from his ministrations.

“Babe, are you sure you want to…?” you began, but before you could finish the question, he was already between your legs, lazily lapping at your arousal. “OhGodNoah!” you gasped.

He laughed but kept on eating you out, his licks soon getting very purposeful and not lazy at all. He was a man on a mission (making you come again), and he fully intended to accomplish it. You allowed yourself to be more vocal this time; not that you didn’t enjoy it when he finger-fucked you, but Noah was a pro with his lips and tongue, and he loved to make you come. Soon your second orgasm was going through you like a tidal wave, so intense that you saw white for a moment, toes curling, eyelids fluttering. You moaned his name, a hand gripping at his hair, the other digging into the couch. He smiled at you, still licking at your clit, riding you through your orgasm.

When he got up, the mere vision of him (the lower half of his face still glistening with your juices, his hard cock straining against his sweatpants, tattoos in full display) was enough to turn you into a feral creature. You lowered his sweatpants in a swift motion, freeing his erection. You curled your hand around his shaft, pumping him slowly. Maintaining eye contact, you licked a stripe over the sensitive head, tasting the pre-cum leaking. He moaned.

“Babe, as much as I love when you blow me, I need to be inside you,” he said, reluctantly pushing you away.

You guys went back to the bed. Noah grabbed a condom from the box on his nightstand, opening it up and rolling it over his length. He wasted no time, fucking you fast and hard against the mattress.

“Fuck! Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Did I hurt you?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“Did I tell you to stop while we were at it?” you asked.

“No”

“Then don’t be an idiot, I’m fine,” you assured him.

You cuddled. Then fucked again. Then cuddled some more. Then you rode him like a cowboy going into the sunset. Then you took a shower together and had lunch. By the time you joined the boys in the spa of the hotel, Noah had almost half of his hair in braids, and you were not walking straight. Folio elbowed Nick, attracting his attention over Noah and you, and Nick tapped Jolly’s shoulder. They looked at each other, knowingly, but said nothing.

“The poor thing must be so raw,” Jolly whispered to the other two, watching you two at the hot part of the pool. Folio and Nick stifled a laugh.

You were sad to part ways with Noah the next day but, to be honest, your vagina needed some days off after what you did.

“See you in a couple of weeks,” you said, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek and then his lips.

“I already miss you,” he sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

You hugged him one last time before he got on the bus.

“I’mma put my coochie on ice as soon as I get home,” you jokingly texted him after you waved the bus goodbye.

“Should’ve eaten you out more,” he replied.

“Maybe. But I was there, and I enthusiastically participated. Don’t be sorry for what we both enjoyed.”

You saw him again for the second last show at the end of the tour, going straight to the hotel room after the concert. He made sweet love to you that night, very intimate and passionate. You loudly moaned his name as you came, back arching off the bed, inner muscles contracting around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

“I love you,” he said with a soft voice and hooded eyes.

“I love you too,” you replied, caressing his cheek.

He almost fell asleep while you were brushing and braiding his hair. He also let you be the big spoon, which didn’t happen often.

The next day, when he arrived at the sound check, the boys were surprised to see him with only one braid.

“Slow night yesterday?” asked Jolly.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Noah asked, confused.

“Looks like you were too tired after the concert for round two,” replied Jolly, pointing at his hair.

Noah blushed violently.

“You guys know about that?” he asked, mortified.

“You and Y/N are not very subtle, to be honest,” said Nick.

“It’s surprising, though, you always have at least two braids,” Jolly reflected.

“What can I say, that’s just how she likes it,” Noah said, shrugging while smiling, very full of himself.

“Dude, next time he meets Y/N to ‘hang out’ and he returns with braids, he won’t be able to fit his ego through the door,” Nick joked.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Just wanted to say ur posts always make me cackle 😂. Forget them haters!

Thoughts on how AGSZC would react at the dentist??

(thank you ❤️ 😂 )

Angeal: SOLDIER has a dedicated team of dentists who provide dental care for its operatives, and Angeal is eternally grateful for it. Because his family didn't have much money, he rarely had the opportunity to visit the dentist. While Hollander did offer dental treatments on multiple occasions, Angeal's mother was always wary of Hollander being near her son. So when Angeal joins the army and SOLDIER and gets ready access to dental care, he's determined to follow the dentist's instructions. Too determined, really. He thinks it's a competition.

Angeal: So what's my grade? Dentist: You don't get graded on your oral hygiene. Angeal: But how are my teeth? Dentist: They're in perfect condition⏤ Angeal: Perfect I got an A. Dentist: Angeal: Take that, Genesis. Dentist: Angeal: He got an F didn't he?

Sephiroth: His experiences with dentists have been limited to Hojo either performing his dental work himself or closely monitoring professionals during surgeries and unnecessary procedures (like pulling out teeth to observe how fast they grow). Needless to say, he was hesitant about visiting a regular dentist until Angeal suggested it to show him that not all dentist experiences are uncomfortable.

Sephiroth is pleasantly surprised by the dentist's office he visits in Sector 8.

*During his appointment* Dentist: How are you finding things? Sephiroth: Excellent. The waiting area was stocked with books and magazines, there was calming music, the receptionist offered me coffee. Now there's a TV on the ceiling, which I'm so distracted by that I barely notice the treatment being done. You're also being very gentle. Thank you. Dentist: I'm flattered⏤ Sephiroth: It's nice not having to worry about one of my teeth being extracted against my will. Dentist:

Genesis: "He hates the dentist" is what he tells people, when in reality he lives in constant fear that he'll randomly black out one day and wake up strapped to a dentist chair. No one knows why, not even Genesis himself understands why the dentist makes him so uncomfortable. He doesn't like sitting with his mouth open while someone pokes around in there, he doesn't like how sterile the dentist office feels, he doesn't like the prospect of having a cavity or something he'll have to be treated for, so he combats this by simply not going to the dentist. Done. "If you don't know about it, it doesn't exist."

Unfortunately this backfires horribly the day Genesis won't stop complaining about a toothache⏤and refuses to get it checked⏤so Angeal and Sephiroth take matters into their own hands.

*Lazard sees Angeal and Sephiroth carrying an unconscious Genesis into the elevator* Lazard: Please tell me he's still alive. Sephiroth: No, not murder. We cast sleep on him. Angeal: We're taking him to the dentist. Lazard: And what will you do once he wakes up screaming? *Sephiroth produces a hammer out of nowhere* Lazard: ...............

Zack: Loves the dentist. LOVES it. If Zack could go to the dentist every week, he would.

Angeal: Hey buddy, how was the dentist?

Zack, with his face full of stickers and sucking a lollipop: It was great! They got a new gaming setup for the waiting room. And I watched a movie while the dentist worked, plus he was suuuper proud of how white and healthy my teeth are. He praised me, and I even got a gold star. Oh! And on my way out, he gave me a goody bag. *Zack lifts a bag filled with toothbrushes, toy cars and crayons* Sephiroth: Does the sign outside your dentist's office say 'Pediatric' before it? Zack: Yes, why?

Cloud: Cloud doesn't fear the dentist. The dentist fears Cloud. His dental records come with a warning for every new dentist at the barracks: "WARNING: BITER." He's not doing it on purpose, in fact, he'd rather not have the reflexes that make his jaw clamp shut tightly around foreign objects. His habits are also every dentists worst nightmare. Chewing ice, nail biting, using his teeth as a tool to open things, and drinking a blend of black coffee with soda "because it tastes nice."

Zack: How'd the dentist go? Cloud: He went to the E.R. Zack:

[choccyhearts]

you decide to help eddie stay focused on his homework and as motivation you buy cheesy inspirational stickers...

you buy a few different packs; colorful smiley faces, gold stars, various foods with matching puns, and of course some with silly little sayings like "good job"

each time eddie completes a math problem or writes paragraph for his essay you give him a sticker to put anywhere he'd like

he scoffs at you when you explain your reward system but follows up by saying, "well duh i want the stupid stickers", after you tell him to just forget about the idea

he tries to get more creative with the places he sticks his rewards. a few on his desk, some on his notebook, a couple on the wall

after completing an entire assignment, you cheer and give him a big hug before placing a sticker on his cheek. it's one that says, "you rock!", and you were waiting for the right moment to give it to him

he looks in the mirror and rolls his eyes playfully, grinning from ear to ear. he takes one of the sticker packs and puts one of your cheek. it's a gold star that reads, "you're a rockstar!"

you smirk and stick a bright green smiley face on his nose and soon you break out into a sticker fight

an hour later, there's stickers everywhere -- in your hair, on your clothes, on the floor -- and eddie still only has one assignment finished

wayne comes home from the store, walking back towards eddie's room to check on him

he pokes his head in and you both look at him caught off guard -- eddie's on the floor holding your wrist as you try to stick more stickers ln him

wayne just shakes his head and leaves, saying, "i'on even wanna know"

(is this cringe? i can't tell...)

[pretty-toru]

cooking lessons (gojo x reader ft. found family)

☁️ You're wearing a cute apron over your attire as you commence a cooking lesson for Megumi, Tsumiki, and your boyfriend Gojo on a normal night like this because you believe that learning how to cook is an essential life skill. While you have your own personal cutting board, a sharp knife, and washed produce ready to be prepped, the three students across from you of the kitchen island have their own sets and ingredients as well.

☁️ "Eh, babe? Shouldn't I be over there with you? Won't I make an excellent helper from all those times I helped you make dinner?" Gojo crosses his arms with a pout. Of course, you expected him to make a fuss but the lack of cooking skills earned his place as a student along with the two adolescent step siblings. "And by excellent helper, you mean watching me cook while you sit on the counter and snack on everything? I think you're right where you should be, honey."

☁️ Tsumiki's holding back a giggle as Gojo ultimately accepts his position when he knows you're right, but he perks up when you mention if he's good you'll make everyone dessert tonight. Before you begin your instructions and demonstrations, you assure that there's really no wrong way to cooking since everyone has their own style and preference but it's important to be aware about food safety and handling.

☁️ After you showed them how to chop the veggies into rustic chunks for a simple curry recipe, you supervise the three and praise Tsumiki and Megumi for following directions and stick a gold star to their cheek. Gojo's eagerly waiting for his gold star as well but all he got was a "Nice job, Toru" and Megumi taunting him only flared his jealousy so he pulls you back by the waist and points to his cheek for his deserved sticker with a soft grunt. Meanwhile Tsumiki nudges her brother to be nice to their guardian(s).

☁️ Next is sauteing the three different kinds of vegetables and protein in the pot and you explain when to add which ones since they all have different cooking times. For this step, you have organized all the prepped veggies and each person is in charge with either cooking the thinly sliced beef, adding in the onions, carrots, and potatoes, then pouring the broth and letting it come to a simmer. Tsumiki and Megumi each get another gold star, while Gojo loses his for trying to sabotage Megumi by tickling his side as he was busy doing his task.

☁️ You allow the two step siblings to have a break by choosing what kind of dessert they want to have later, while Gojo's on rice duty as you watch him rinse three times and add enough water and pop it into the rice cooker. He's pouty for being starless to say the least, but you explain how it's dangerous when there's an open fire and someone can get hurt. Gojo does apologize and you tell him to be more careful next time since you know he likes being playful with the kids.

☁️ Once the veggies have softened, you call everyone back to the stove and have Tsumiki add the curry roux blocks and Megumi stir the pot until it's mixed thoroughly. Gojo starts setting up the table and laying down the utensils before he's gestured over for a taste test to see if anything needed to be added, and he gets a mouthful of salt under a layer of curry as Megumi gets him back when you were retrieving side dishes from the fridge. Safe to say, Megumi's star goes to Gojo and Tsumiki's the only one with three gold stars for best behavior.

☁️ Overall, the process was smooth except for some mischief but after gathering around the dinner table and looking at the successful finished product, knowing that you all made it together was a nice feeling and even more so when it tasted delicious. Megumi and Gojo make up by begrudgingly complimenting and affirming each other on their roles, and you tell Tsumiki she can choose whatever she wants to do for the next family outing for being amazing and reliable.

[hp-hcs]

Not really a request but holy crap your nb blaise fic was absolutely amazing hell yeah ill integrate that into my belief system. Do you have any other hcs about that bc it's super cool

(more) nonbinary! blaise zabini headcanons — a (sort of) part two to my fic uniforms

there’s a lot, so i’ve divided them up into sections and subsections

also i’m tired and it’s late if there are any typos shhh no there aren’t

~ 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 ~

they’re better at makeup than you, hands down

isn’t blaise like canonically (aka, the actor) 6’3”? well anyways, they wear heels. they don’t need them, but they own six inch stilettos and won’t miss a step. absolutely strutting on the moving stairs while everyone watches like “how the fuck—”

(if you ask why they wear them, their answer will always be “so i can step on men, duh”)

~ ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 ~

• mrs. zabini •

their mom is hella supportive!!!

one of her definitely-not-murdered ex-husbands mysteriously went missing after making some joke at blaise’s expense

no, mr. auror, i haven’t a clue how my husband ended up at the bottom of the black lake with the word ‘transphobe’ magically carved into his forehead what that’s crazy

• slytherin squad™️ •

draco: shouts “i knew it!!!!” and runs off to go get his money from whoever he bet against

theo: could not give less of a fuck. i kinda hc theo as being fluid or at least apathetic to their own gender, so it’s all love & support over here!!

mattheo: needs it explained a couple times, but once he gets it, he never messes up their pronouns and will fight any bitch who does

pansy: absolute queen. she will d r a g them to diagon alley to go shopping with her and will buy them their first personal makeup palette. we stan.

enzo: already knew. knew like, two years ago. when they come out, he’s just like, “oh!! i’m so happy you finally figured it out!! i’ve been waiting for you to say something for ages!!!!”

• adults •

dumbledick: completely ignores their pronouns bc all slytherins are evil and he’s definitely not biased or anything

snape: is an asshole about it.

voldemort: would be like 🧍‍♂️“ok but ur still one of my death eaters right?”

narcissa: does that one fake polite smile and nod that every white mom is capable of. “how lovely, dear.”

bellatrix: man, bitch is crazy. who even knows

tonks: AGGRESSIVELY supportive

• golden trio (& co.) •

harry: gets into an argument with the slytherins and calls blaise “he”. draco’s ready to beat his ass, but blaise just calmly explains their gender identity and harry apologizes, then goes back to arguing with them, ✨respectfully✨.

ron: (what no i’m definitely not a blairon shipper shut up) immediately switches to strictly gender-neutral language and goes out of his way to ask them what terms/compliments/etc they’re comfortable being called.

hermione: hot take! i hc her as a closeted lesbian with internalized homophobia, and i think she’d try to make an argument about “bUt ThEy iS pLuRaL”.

neville: cutie pie!! he just nods and is like “okay! 🥹🌱”

ginny: doesn’t give a fuck. blaise is on the slytherin quidditch team, and damn if you think she isn’t going to do everything in her power to continue trying to beat them

luna: sagely nods like it was obvious. “oh, the nargles already told me.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

comments are always appreciated!! the author thrives off encouragement, like a toddler being given a gold star sticker!!!

[sketcheddaydreams]

hii!! can we have a tree level Mabel from Gravity Falls? we love your blog!! ^__^

Hihihi!

we're super sorry for how delayed this was /gen, the holiday season hit us hard and our disorders decided to take control of our lives for a bit.... /apologetic

but this was a really fun request so thank you, we hope you enjoy her!!! /gen /pos

|| New plant incoming ||

Name[s] - Mabel, Lousie, Ruth, Mae, Maddie, Willa

Age - 12-14 // agedre : 6-8

Gender[s] - Pangender, Feminenby, Glittergender, Rainbowoverloadcoric, Fungender, Scribblestargender, Funkygender, Rainbowcraystar, CringeXDcoric, Funhoardic, 2000’sTVnostalgin, Whimsic, Sourfizzgender, JoyStimmic, Goofygender

Sexuality[s]/Orientation - [masc-leaning] Biromantic, Pansexual, Monogamous, HyperAesthetic 

Role[s] - Fictive, Daydream Holder, Hyperromantic Holder, Sister Figure, Peacemaker, Comedian

3rd person pronouns - she/her, they/them, vae/vaem, sae/saem, fae/faer, sie/saer, fem/femme, stuffy/stuffys, spark/sparkle, glitter/glitterself, sticker/stickers, rain/rainbow, scrap/scrapbook, pig/pigs, silly/sillyself, goof/goofy, cringe/cringeself, whim/whimsy, h♡/h♡m, be/bim, hope/hopeself, 🎉/🎉s, 💖/💖s, 🦄/🦄s, 🌈/🌈s, 🐷/🐷s

2nd person pronouns - you/yours/yourself, sae/saers/saerself, rai/rains/rainbowself, silly/sillyrs/sillyrself, daydream/daydreamer/daydreamerself, craft/craftrs/craftrself, love/lovers/loverself, create/creaters/createrself, 🍬/🍬rs/🍬rself, 🎨/🎨rs/🎨rself, 🌈/🌈rs/🌈rself

1st person pronouns - I/me/my/mine/myself, se/sae/say/saen/sayself, gli/glit/glitter/glitterine/glitterself, bu/bubb/bubble/bubbleine/bubbleself, cha/char/charm/charmers/charmself, 🫧/🫧e/🫧y/🫧ine/🫧yself, 🎉/ 🎉e/ 🎉y/ 🎉ine/ 🎉yself, 🖍️/🖍️e/🖍️y/🖍️ine/🖍️yself

Species - Human

Source [if applicable] - Gravity Falls [Mabel]

Likes - stickers, rainbows, bright colors, creating things, scene, Y2K fashion, retro games/toys/collectibles, glitter / sparkles, sweaters

Dislikes - negative people, dull colors, anything uncreative, gnomes, heights, clay animation

Typing quirk - all caps [e.g. OMG HIHIHI!! YOU GET A BIIIIG GOLD STAR! ]

Fun fact - Puts [edible?] glitter into and onto anything sae can get whimsys hands on… including food [could be irl or headspace]

Kin list - RaccoonKin, SquirrelKin, Tamagotchi[object]Kin, PigNatured, PuppetHearted, Beaver[Fun Link], Goat[therian]

Fave time of day - Morning [7:44 or 07:44 for military time]

Faceclaim[s] -

[1 // 2]

CisIDs - CisAFAB, CisBrownHair, CisAmerican, CisAtheist, CisArtist, CisOptimist, CisKnitter, CisAgeRegressor, CisSweaterTownResident, CisHyperphantasia, CisTwin, CisBraces, CisLightSkin, CisHuman, CisAutistic, CisOpLD, CisAALD

TransIDs - TransStarPupils, TransPermaKid, TransGlitterSkin, CottonCandyScentic, TransStrawberryBananaFlavor, PermaSweater, PermaHappy, TransFreckled, TransLongerHair, TransSummerRomance, TransDPD, TransOCD, TransMultiHearted, Glitteramian, TransStutter, TransConjoinedTwin, PermaMabelsWorldResident, PersPuppeteer

Paras - 🦄 // 💕 // ❇️

Other ids - Hyperempathic alter, CandyAngelQueer

Violence level - 1.01 [grAppling hooK /silly]

Journal entry - “DEAR DIARY (AHHHH I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO SAY THAT), I PUT GLITTER IN [insert headmate name] WAFFLES TODAY!!!! I THINK THEY NOTICED BUT IT’S ALRIGHT xD! ANYWAY,,, I FINALLY GOT A NEW SCRAPBOOK FOR THIS SUMMER…. AND MAYBE SPRING, AND UH FALL AND WINTER TOO. CAN’T WAIT TO START RECORDING ALL THE AWESOME MEMORIES!!! I’LL KEEP YA POSTED X3”

Remember: headmates almost never form exactly as depicted here. You can also alter anything on here to better fit your system and needs!

|| Plant packaged and delivered ||

Plants grown by: Tree, Jude, + Juniper

Response by: Jude + Juniper

[goddogcomplex]

Music: How To Listen

alright, you little goobers, its time to talk about music. what about it, you ask, in your tinny little voices. worry not, shark babies, i will tell you what. as an experienced music listener myself, i can understand that many of you babies are lost and confused. and its alright, okay? its easy to get lost in a world where taylor swift exists alongside as rammstein.

so, you're wondering--how do i get cool points through my music? firstly, dont do that. to get cool points, you ought not to seek cool points. but here are my music recs. probably none of these are underground and are actually pretty popular, but i do not accept bitter shark babies, only the sweet, joyful ones.

tldr: music recs for you desperate shark babies

p.s: I've added the link to all albums/artists at the bottom(mostly on spotify)

Radiohead: First, let me clarify, I am a girl. I've heard sooo many people make jokes about Ooh, Radiohead is for loser incel men. NO. radiohead is for all genders of incels. now, Radiohead's great. love them, make stickers of them. but what songs should you start out with? Ok, personally, I love everything. e v e r y t h i n g. but, I understand you may not be able to reach my levels of obsession and insanity. thats okay! it's not healthy! now, I recommend listening to them album-wise. start with either 'The Bends' or 'In Rainbows'. 'ok computer' is a solid choice too, but I would save it for later in your obsession. Have fun, my little shark babies, you will be sad. (Ik these are really basic and vague choices but these are recs for people seeking to get into new music)

Big Thief: Alright, chances are, many of you have heard them. If you have, gold star. ⭐. If you haven't, but you desperately crave the validation of me, a stranger and your shark mother, go listen to them. Right now, I love them. Again, they are a little bit slower and a little sadder. So, if that's not your thing, wait until later on the list, alright? If you're only starting to listen to them, I recommend going with one of their more popular albums--'Masterpiece'. They also have a single, 'Vampire Empire', which makes me go feral every time it plays. If you like the, keep exploring their discography, and come collect your gold star.

Le Tigre: Woah, nelly, this band. (who even is Nelly?) Okay, so Le Tigre has this wild ability of just filling me with a slight manicness, iykwim? I will bet 20 cents that you have heard Deceptacon(I'm broke), although you might not know the name. With them, just go to their profile on Spotify, play it on shuffle, and sacrifice your soul to the gods. Have fun, Pookie!

A Tribe Called Quest: As someone who listens to very little hip-hop, I have been told by my more cultured friends that this is hip-hop. I love it. So much. An album of theirs I adore is 'The Low End Theory' which has one of my favourite songs ever, 'Jazz We Got'

The Departures: Okay, these guys are genuinely unknown to the world. Like, they have some 5k listeners. I love them. They have a couple of albums, and you absolutely should go listen. They're kind of chaotic and messy and twirly, but in the best ways possible. Listen to the album 'Yes No Maybe' first, because it is the genuine love of my life. They also released an album this year, 'Hourglass' which is also seriously good. Like, really good.

my bloody valentine: NOW HEAR ME OUT. I understand that their name sounds like its a bunch of emo vampires who are really just middle schoolers with fake teeth on. So there's a genre of music called shoegaze(similar to Cocteau Twins if you know them) which is really just soft, kind of ethereal music where you can't really decipher the words. I will be making another post on just shoegaze, but their album 'loveless' is an excellent place to start. it's just great. go listen.

John Coltrane: Now, the only way to describe John Coltrane is a prayer through jazz. Like, it's a totally spiritual experience. Again, will be doing a little post on jazz, but John Coltrane is iconic. 'A Love Supreme' is a great place to start, I also like 'Ascension' Genuinely iconic, will alter your brain chemistry. Go, shark babes, listen.

Bikini Hill: If you liked Le Tigre's 'Deceptacon', you will love their 'Pussy Whipped'. Very similar vibe, I've been told its called riot girl, which sounds iconic. Anyways, seriously vibey music, go listen right this second.

The Newfound Interest in Connecticut: Y'all, midwest emo is my jam! I mean, whiny little voices in my ear, hell yeah! Okay, so Is specifically mentioned this band for their album 'Tell Me About The Long Dark Path Home', which is simply edible. Yeah, these guys like their long ass names. But anyways, go listen!!!

Minor Threat: These guys are punk. Listen to their album 'First Two Seven Inches'. it's a great place to start. If you like them, I will find some time to make a punk rec post too, but to be honest I need to explore the genre more. So y'all have fun now!

Okay, ten bands, guys. All iconic, if you ask me. Like I said, I'm going to be making a bunch more of these. Please, please, please, please, please send me recommendations, tell me what to write about, show me some love. accept me, good people, please. ANWYAYS, BYE BYE! MWAH! HAVE FUN!

LINKS:

'In Rainbows' by Radiohead:

'Masterpiece' by Big Thief(2023 remaster):

'Le Tigre' by Le Tigre:

'The Low End Theory' by A Tribe Called Quest:

'Yes No Maybe' by The Departures:

'loveless' by my bloody valentine:

'A Love Supreme' by John Coltrane:

'Pussy Whipped' by Bikini Hill:

'Tell Me About the Long Dark Path Home' by Newfound Interest in Connecticut:

'First Two Seven Inches' by Minor Threat:

[the-haunted-office]

The giant- who had once met Cyrus many many months ago and recked havoc upon the control booth, cautiously opens one of the doors into the office. An icy breeze blows through behind them, snowflakes drifting into the corridor. They quickly peek around the corners of the hallway, making sure the coast is clear.

They know it has been a long while since they, or any of their creations, have been seen. They've missed a lot, and so have their creations. But now, they have someone new to introduce. Well, somewhat new. Someone who needs to meet people. And Hellmourn knows exactly which clever Author gets to have their hands on them first.

Hellmourn reaches deep into their jacket pocket, searching for something in particular. After a short while, he manages to find it and drops the blue.artefact on the ground just in front of the door. As they go to pull the door closed, they realise that might not be enough to get an unsupecting member to open the door and step through to a new world. Hastily, Hellmourn digs through their pockets once more in search of a pen, paper, and a set of large "you tried" gold star stickers. Eventually, they succeed in finding their materials and quickly write a note reading "MORE INSIDE." The giant holds the sheet of paper to the door and sticks a gold star on the top of the page. With a cheeky smile, Hellmourn quietly pulls the door closed, leaving the artefact to be discovered by an unsuspecting individual.

On closer examination, anyone walking by would recognise that the artefact on the floor is an ID card.

On the backside of the card is a map of a foreign land with the letters RCM embossed over the illustration. The foreign land is indicated by the intricate lines marking the roads of some place named Jamrock. Wherever that is.

On the back side, there is a thick layer of tape over the top line. It seems as though the name has been covered up. All that can be read on this side is:

Rank: LTN

Serial Number: REV-38-05-JAM41

Unit: RCM-Precinct 41

Issue Date: 25/02/45

But then, there's the ID image. The portrait of young man. One that looks eerily familiar. A person many have met before. Perhaps there'll be an answer awaiting them on the other side of the door?

[ ??? / for anyone of your choice! | @reubyrp (let me know if that link didn't work :") ]

Naturally, Thursday is the first to discover the artifact left behind by the mischievous Hellmourn. She doesn't realize who has left it behind, although maybe upon the discovery of a note boasting "MORE INSIDE" and a gold star sticker declaring "you tried" along with it should have given her a clue.

She's seen way too much shit, though, and so perhaps she's starting to lose her edge.

In either case, both the paper and the star both intrigue and amuse her, and there is simply no way she can walk away without investigating further. Her assumption is that one of her Officemates has posted the note on the door and the "more inside" this door she's about to open will simply consist of either a dead body on the floor or something on fire or maybe even a stolen golden toilet. Who knows? She's about to find out!

Just as she goes to open the door, though, she hears a small plasticy crunch as she realizes she's just stepped on something. She stops momentarily to pick it up and inspect it, realizing it's an ID of some sort.

Well now that gets her attention. Even more than the sign on the door does. And it doesn't take much more thought before she's flinging that door open and charging right in there. If who she thinks is behind this door is in there, like hell she's waiting a moment longer!

Also quite naturally, she can't help but shout as she charges through, "Leeroyyyy Jenkinsssss!"

The door snaps shut behind her, and who knows if anyone else might see that sign on the door and join her later.

[talentbadge]

Crystal first spotted Lexi Luxe at the auditions yesterday, and from the moment Lexi waltzed into the room like she owned it, Crystal’s mood had soured. Crystal couldn’t help but roll her eyes every time Lexi spoke, especially when she loudly announced that she “was born for stardom” and didn’t need “luck like the rest of them.”

Crystal had been confident going into the audition, but Lexi’s passive-aggressive comments made her blood boil.

The next day, Crystal couldn’t believe her eyes when she spotted Lexi Luxe strutting around the same residential complex. Just her luck! The one Sim she was dying to avoid was living right next door.

Crystal (rolling her eyes): "Look who it is, Miss 'I’m Better Than Everyone.' Didn’t you audition for the same role I did? Oh wait, you probably didn’t even get a callback. Bummer.”

Lexi Luxe (with a smug grin): “Sweetie, I don’t need callbacks. They practically hand me roles because, well... just look at me. I’m what Del Sol Valley needs, not... whatever this is.” gestures vaguely at Crystal

Crystal (getting heated): “Please. The only thing you’re starring in is your own delusions. I bet you think you’re too good for actual work, huh?”

Lexi (laughing mockingly): "Work? Darling, it’s called talent. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? And if by some miracle you get a role, try not to embarrass yourself. Oh wait, too late."

Crystal (flustered and angry): "You have no idea who you're messing with!" Crystal was a 1 star celebrity now thanks to her winning roles and Simtube content and is on her way to getting 2 stars, Lexi had no stars...yet.

Lexi (leaning in): “Sweetheart, I don’t need a gold sticker to know I’m destined for the top. Enjoy your little head start while it lasts—because once I get going, even your two-bit fame won’t save you from being my opening act.”

[sunny6677]

Eddsworld: The Literature Club.

Summary:

You're just some random person trying to survive in some random city in Britain, when out of nowhere, your best mate from childhood decides to invite you to a club he started that has a bunch of basic but somewhat decent-looking boys! Starring, your best mate (and also childhood friend) Matt! The overly deadpan and sarcastic serious guy, Tom! The trigger-happy maniac, Tord! And finally, Edd—the president who's also really addicted to cola for some reason! And.. despite them not being the best options out there, you're kind of desperate for a boyfriend, so you figure giving the club a shot won't hurt! Will you somehow manage to charm them into dating you?

Chapter 4: Now A Member!

————

Silence filled the air, and I swallowed. Shit, was that the right thing to just suddenly say?

I gulped. "..uh.. Matt—Matt just wanted me to check this place out. And I figured I would since I said I'd join a club, and.."

I looked upon all of them. Tord's smug grin had faded completely from his lips, and he blinked slowly, his gaze beginning to become dissapointed. Matt's face visibly saddened, and as did Edds own expression. Tom's face on the other hand remained completely neutral.

"Aw, what?!" Matt uttered.

"..lame." Tom blankly muttered.

"..uh.. okay. Sorry about that then." Edd replied, sheepishly looking off to the side. "We.. thought you'd be joining us."

..goddammit, what was it with these boys? They weren't even that cute-looking! In fact, they were pretty average. And.. err.. some things about them seemed kind of worrying. But—god.. I already basically had no one besides Matt to talk to. Poems wouldn't be a big deal if it meant I got to talk to these guys everyday.

I let out a sigh. "..fine. I'll join."

Their eyes slowly lit up upon processing my words. Matt was the first one to practically explode from joy. "Yay!" He pumped his fists into the air with his usual stupid grin.

"..cool." Tom mumbled.

"Oh, good! I was starting to think you'd be abandoning us there, new member." Tord grinned, scooching closer as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Well, in that case, it's official!" Edd smiled. He shuffled his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, and then whipped something out. Something gold and shiny and.. wait, was.. was that a gold star? It appeared to be a small sticker of some kind.

As Edd reached foward, he placed it on my chest, and I looked up at him with a mildly surprised expression.

"Welcome to the literature club!" Edd grinned. He laughed. "We'll make sure you feel right at home!"

"...uh.. heh.. thanks." I sheepishly replied, looking down at my lap while rubbing my arm.

He heaved out a sigh from his mouth, placing his hands on his hips. "Okayy.. I think we should be good to go on poems, so I want everyone to remember to write one for tonight! Besides, this.. will kind of be the first club activity we've actually done, so I'd prefer if people actually participate."

"..new member," He spoke with a cheerful smile while placing his hand gently on my other shoulder. "I look foward to seeing what you have to write!"

I blinked, and felt my face flush up in a fuzzy wave of warmth. "..hah.. thanks, man."

Geez.. I was desperate, wasn't I? Taking my overly arrogant best mate, some random maniac, some grumpy guy, and some weird friendly dude as options for a boyfriend. I hadn't even really considered my best mate as an option until now, but.. I had known him for a while, so it wasn't like he was the worst option out there.

I heaved out a sigh. I guess I'd be participating in club type stuff after all.

————

After an hour or so, the meeting was called off to an end. Tord began to retrieve the plates and took them back to the kitchen so he could empty and wash them. While Tom.. well, he didn't really do much, he just kinda stood their and drank from a flask the whole time.

And as I stood with my shoulders slumped, I was approached by the sound of a bright familiar voice, and the feeling of someone's arm wrapping around my shoulders.

"Hey, chum! What'd you think of the meeting?"

"Wa—Wah! Oh.. uh.. it was fine. Better than me contemplating the fact that I have to work again in the next 9 or so hours." I spoke with a sigh, looking down at my feet.

"Well, no need to worry about that, buddy! Why don't you let me walk you back home for tonight?"

"..oh. Uh—sure—"

"Yipee!"

I let out a yelp, feeling his grip around my shoulders tighten. I then felt my body involuntarily begin to move foward as he practically rushed toward the entrance that led to the door we had entered, and let out a sigh. With how fast this guy went, it's like he was just waiting all club meeting to ask me that. Then again, knowing him, that was probably the case.

I only let him drag me foward. After all, I knew this guy well enough to not really resist any of his antics anymore. There was pretty much no use in doing that.

————

"—and that's how I took over everything ever!"

"..you.. so—so you mean to tell me you went back in time and invented everything?"

"Yep!"

..huh. Well, he's probably just making it up, but knowing him, there'd probably be some impossible way for him to somehow be able to do that.

I groaned. "Well.. that's good, Matt. 'Bout bloody time you make yourself actually do something useful for once."

"Yeah, I—" Matt stopped, and frowned. "..heyyy.."

I playfully rolled my eyes. Yet as we walked under the cold night sky that was speckled to the brim with white glowing balls of light, my mind wondered between all of the boys who could be my potential romantic options.

Matt, my childhood mate who was obsessed with himself.

Tord, the trigger-happy maniac.

Tom, the cynical alcoholic.

Edd, the cola-obsessed president who seemed actually pretty chill.

..huh. Only one of those options sounded somewhat choosable.

I let a sigh escape my mouth, and I continued walking. Guess I'd just have to see who I'd go with when I wrote my poem tonight.

————

I leaned foward on my bed, my pen hovering above a thin sheet of paper I had placed on top of a tiny table I had scooted over to my fluffy cot of a resting place. I looked down at the sheet of paper. I admittedly wasn't that good at poetry, but when it came to cute boys or people I was crushing on, I could at least whip something up fast enough.

I let my mind wonder between all four of the boys again, doubts filling my mind as I occasionally thought about their more.. worrying aspects.

I blinked, and then a thought came to mind.

Gripping my pen, I began to write away at the paper, my mind filled with inspiration.

[pomni-xddcc]

Hey Pomni. Your name in Russian means "remember", how ironic. *Sticks a gold star sticker on your face and runs off before you can react*

It's funny because I can't remember at all!..soon.. I'm a bit tired of feeling this way... THANKS FOR THE STICKER - wait I can put stickers on my face- CAN IT COME OFF!?