showyourself80

[showyourself80]

a reluctant yet devoted father ..

(he names her elouise prince the third)

[showyourself80]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 3rd Tilt

Cesare Borgia, The Borgias (2011-2013) VS. George, The Sheriff of Nottingham, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991)

Propaganda

Cesare Borgia, The Borgias (2011-2013) Portrayed by: Francois Arnaud Defeated Opponents: - Ancelyn ap Gwalchmai [Marcus Gilbert], Doctor Who: “Battlefield” (1989) - Prince Hamlet [Laurence Olivier], Hamlet (1948)

“How do I even begin to explain Cesare Borgia? - Cesare Borgia is flawless. - He has one duchy and two cardinalates. - I hear his hair is insured for 10,000 ducates. - I hear he does Church speeches… in Spain. - His favorite painter is Pinturicchio - One time, he met Caterina Sforza in Forlì. And she told him he was pretty. - One time, he threatened to kill me… it was awesome! This man.... this man, this man. He is the complete package: a perfect case of competent kink, a ruthless bastard (ie sexy) AND he's so irredeemably fucked up you also get the "I could fix him" complex. This is the man who could had it all and yet he wasn't enough (again, sexy)... [Cont. under the cut]

George, The Sheriff of Nottingham, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) Portrayed by: Alan Rickman Defeated Opponents: - William Wallace [Mel Gibson], Braveheart (1995) - Kili [Aiden Turner], The Hobbit Trilogy (2012-2014)

“Robin who? The Sheriff is *obviously* the star of this movie, stealing every scene as the funnest, most sneeringly evil villain you could imagine, with a luxuriant mane, a fabulous goth wardrobe, and a voice that'll send shivers down your spine.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Cesare Borgia:

(Excerpted from above propaganda) "He's serving cunt at ALL times. In Cardinal clothes? Serving cunt. In "civil" clothes? Serving cunt. In armor? Serving cunt. He had one of the most competent thinkers and do I say philosopher of his time (Machiavelli) *fawning* over him. Was he a tyrant? Possibly, but it's one we LOVE. The man [Machiavelli] literally BASED A BOOK on him.... (Cont. under the cut)

"He has a personal assassin of ...unmatched abilities and YET he's even better than the man himself!!! He tries to kill his own would be killer in like the pilot episode and the man was ready to swear absolute fealty to him. As would I, to be honest. As would anyone and everyone. SO much cunt is Cesare Borgia serving at all times!!!

"We love him and loathe him and love to loathe him. His father loves and hates him bc they're too similar. His brother wishes he were him (he's not) His sister doesn't see anyone else. Lucrezia... yes: the incest is fucked up. Also that's why we love it- it's so unhinged, as anything Borgia should be!!! Their relationship... perfect. She's the only one that can possibly understand him, she's the only one he truly loves. She loves him and always has - only a Borgia can truly love a Borgia amirite?

This is a man who is clearly Not Okay and you want so much for him to Be Okay but at the same time not, because it's so much more entertaining when he's not and also we love a hopeless case. I rest my case only bc I lose any trace of coherence when talking about him so I dont know what more to add.”

For the Sheriff:

“The Sheriff of Nottingham was the highlight of this subpar retelling of the adventures of Robin Hood. The film almost flopped before he entered the scene."

“He single-handedly saved that film - he oozes bad boy sex appeal”

“No, the character was not hot in personality but apparently they gave Alan Rickman total freedom with his portrayal & let him improvise & he was fucking hilarious & stole the show”

How Alan Rickman Rescued Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves with a trip to Pizza Express

[showyourself80]

i gotta remember this

[showyourself80]

subtle acts of love

giving them food without them asking for it

randomly bringing them flowers

holding a door open for them

pulling out their chair for them

guiding them with a gentle hand on the small of their back

making them lunch to take to work with them

fixing their clothes or hair

giving them a massage

talking casually about a shared future

showing them their appreciation for them

waiting at home to say hello when they come in

paying complete attention to them

giving them a casual, but thoughtful compliment

writing them a love letter and hiding it for them to find

showing them something that reminded them of their partner

humming a song to calm them down

giving them a quick kiss whenever they pass each other at home

casual grabbing their hand and swinging it back and forth

remembering something they told them

[showyourself80]

Hi! First of all, i love all of your works <3 your works make my day a lot better!

Can i ask if you ok with daddy kink or not? or maybe sugar daddy/baby girl?

If yes, do you have plan to write any Alan characters with this plot? (I would love to read about Frank🫣)

Title: By His Command

Summary: Frank’s commanding nature is matched only by his desire to please and protect you. A night of teasing turns into an exploration of trust and passion.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink

Author's Notes: Hi there! 😊 Thank you so much for your lovely words—they truly make my day brighter! 💖 Regarding your question, I’m open to exploring daddy kink and sugar daddy/baby girl dynamics in my stories. In fact, I’ve been thinking about incorporating these themes with some of the Alan characters, including Frank! 🫣 Your enthusiasm and support mean the world to me, and I’d love to create something special for you and other fans. Stay tuned, and thanks again for the awesome suggestion! 🥰✨

Also read on Ao3

Frank sat at the kitchen table, attempting to focus on his dinner, but his attention kept straying to you. The clinking of pots and pans as you washed up only drew his gaze back again and again, especially with those tiny denim shorts hugging your curves like a second skin. Every movement you made was unintentional torture—the way you leaned forward, your hips swaying slightly, your thighs exposed, your perfect ass practically calling to him.

He gripped his fork tighter, his hazel eyes narrowing as he tried to tear his gaze away and focus on the plate in front of him. But his hand itched, the urge building with each passing second. Frank had always prided himself on his discipline, but tonight it was wearing thin.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He set his fork down with deliberate precision, his baritone voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me, sweetheart?”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder with an innocent smile. “What do you mean, Frank?” you asked, your tone sweet but knowing, as if you were fully aware of the effect you were having on him.

Frank’s hazel eyes darkened, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know damn well what I mean,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned back to the sink, a mischievous glint in your eye as you reached for another pot. “I’m just cleaning up, Daddy,” you said innocently, using the title you knew would ignite something primal in him.

Frank pushed his chair back, the sound of it scraping against the floor making your heart race. You could hear his heavy, deliberate footsteps approaching, and before you could say another word, his large hand came down hard on your ass, the sound echoing in the kitchen.

“Frank!” you gasped, half in surprise, half in delight, as the sting spread deliciously across your skin.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he growled, “That’s for teasing me, baby girl. Wearing those tiny shorts, swaying your hips like that… you know exactly what you’re doing.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you turned to face him, your back pressed against the counter. His hands came to rest on either side of you, trapping you in, his broad chest just inches from yours. His hazel eyes bore into yours, filled with a mix of frustration and desire.

“I think you like driving me mad,” he muttered, his hooked nose brushing against yours as he leaned in closer. “But you forget who’s in charge here.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “You are, Daddy.”

“That’s right,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your thigh, rough and possessive, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “And if you keep acting like a naughty little girl, I’m going to have to remind you exactly what happens to brats like you.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers traced the edge of your shorts, his touch firm yet teasing. “Maybe I like being reminded,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Frank let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Oh, you like it, do you?” he said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. His hand slid up further, cupping your ass through the thin denim. “Then you’d better be ready for what’s coming.”

Before you could respond, Frank’s lips were on yours, claiming you with a hunger that made your knees weak. His kiss was firm, demanding, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. When he pulled back, his hazel eyes were blazing with desire.

“Bedroom. Now,” he commanded, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through you.

You nodded, your heart pounding as you turned to obey, but Frank stopped you with a sharp slap to your ass. “Not so fast,” he murmured, pulling you back against him. “You think I’m letting you off that easy? I’ve got plans for you, baby girl.”

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you toward the table instead. “Bend over,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your cheeks flushed as you complied, leaning over the table, your tiny shorts riding up even higher. Frank’s hands roamed over your ass, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down slowly, savoring the sight of you exposed before him.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he muttered, his baritone voice rough with desire. “Now, it’s my turn.”

His lips trailed down your spine, his hands kneading your hips as he took his time, making you squirm beneath his touch. “Such a perfect little thing,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over your skin. “All mine.”

You let out a soft moan, arching your back as his touch grew more insistent. “Daddy, please…” you whispered, your voice trembling with need.

Frank smirked, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, you’re going to beg, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice a sinful promise. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

Frank’s first slap landed sharply on your ass, the sound echoing in the kitchen. You let out a soft gasp, wincing at the sting. “Frank!” you whined, glancing over your shoulder at him. His hazel eyes gleamed with a mixture of discipline and amusement, his baritone voice calm but firm.

“Quiet,” he commanded, his large hand smoothing over the spot he’d just struck, only to bring it down again, harder this time. “You don’t get to tease me all night and not face the consequences, baby girl.”

Each slap was deliberate, measured, the sharp sting spreading warmth through your skin as you squirmed against the table. “Daddy, please…” you whimpered, your voice trembling with both protest and anticipation.

Frank chuckled darkly, his hooked nose brushing against the back of your neck as he leaned down. “Oh no, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “You don’t get to beg your way out of this. Not yet.” His hand came down again, the sting radiating through your body, leaving your ass cheeks tinged with red.

You whimpered, your fingers gripping the edge of the table as his punishment continued, each slap igniting a mix of pain and pleasure that sent heat pooling low in your belly. “Frank…” you moaned, your voice breathy as you writhed under his hand.

He finally stopped, his hand resting on your heated skin, fingers tracing soothing circles over the red marks he’d left. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, his tone softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to the small of your back. “You took that so well for me.”

Sliding his hands under your thighs, he helped you stand upright, his strong arms supporting you as you steadied yourself. He tugged your tiny shorts back up, his fingers lingering on your hips as he adjusted the waistband. “Go upstairs,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “Get ready for me. You’ve got five minutes.”

Your heart raced at his words, knowing exactly what he meant. Without hesitation, you turned and made your way up the stairs, your legs trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. Behind you, Frank stayed in the kitchen, his hazel eyes following your retreating form with a possessive gleam.

He reached down to adjust the gun tucked securely into the waistband of his pants, a weapon he never went without, a habit born from years of discipline and responsibility. He carefully set it on the counter, the cool metal glinting under the kitchen lights. Despite his rough exterior and commanding demeanor, Frank was meticulous in everything he did. Like the disciplined soldier he had always been, he moved with purpose, setting the table, wiping it down, and putting away the leftovers from his dinner.

With the kitchen spotless, Frank stood for a moment, his white hair damp from sweat, his chubby frame exuding a quiet strength. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before heading upstairs, his steps slow and deliberate, the anticipation building with each step.

When he entered the bedroom, he found you exactly as he expected—kneeling at the foot of the bed, your hands resting on your thighs, your head bowed slightly in submission. The sight sent a surge of heat through him, his hazel eyes darkening as they roamed over your body.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his baritone voice low and thick with desire as he stepped closer. “My perfect little girl, always so eager to please her daddy.”

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with wide, adoring eyes. “I’m ready for you, Daddy,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Frank smirked, his hooked nose casting a shadow as he tilted his head, taking in every inch of you. “Good,” he said simply, his voice a rumble that sent shivers down your spine. He reached out, his fingers trailing over your cheek before slipping under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. “You know what to do.”

You nodded, your heart racing as you leaned forward, your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. As you began to unfasten them, Frank’s hand came to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he watched you with a mixture of patience and hunger.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight,” he murmured, his voice dripping with approval. “Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and as you worked to please him, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man who had always taken such good care of you. Despite his rough edges and commanding demeanor, Frank’s devotion to you was unwavering, and in moments like these, you felt it more deeply than ever.

As you knelt before Frank, your hands gripping his thighs for balance, you looked up to find him completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him. His hazel eyes fluttered closed, his head tilted slightly back, and his jaw slackened, though he quickly caught himself and straightened, his hand tightening its grip in your hair. A small, stifled sound escaped his throat, and you felt a thrill knowing you had almost broken through his carefully maintained composure.

Frank’s outdated sense of masculinity still clung to him like his uniform—a constant reminder of his discipline and control. He believed men shouldn’t moan in bed, shouldn’t let go entirely, but you had made it your personal mission to shatter that illusion. The suppressed groans rumbling in his chest only spurred you on, your tongue swirling around him as your lips slid down his length.

“Goddammit, girl,” he muttered, his baritone voice thick with desire as he glanced down at you, his hazel eyes dark and burning with barely restrained lust. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You smirked, your lips still wrapped around him, the vibrations from your hum sending a shiver through his body. His fingers tangled tighter in your hair, pulling you slightly closer as he tried to maintain his control. “That mouth of yours,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, “is far too skilled for your own good, little one.”

You pulled back slightly, letting him slide out with an audible pop, your eyes locked on his as you licked your lips. “Is that so, Daddy?” you whispered, your voice soft and teasing. “Maybe I’m just trying to make you lose that control you’re so proud of.”

Frank chuckled darkly, though the sound was strained, his arousal evident in the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “Oh, you like pushing your luck, don’t you?” he growled, his hand tightening in your hair as he tilted your head back to force you to meet his gaze. “Be careful, little girl. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned forward again, brushing your lips over the sensitive head of his cock. “Maybe I like playing with fire,” you murmured, your tongue flicking out to taste him. “Especially when it’s you, Daddy.”

His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, his composure cracked, a low, guttural groan escaping him before he clenched his jaw, stifling the sound. You saw the flicker of frustration in his eyes as he regained control, his grip on your hair firm but not painful.

“You’re a menace,” he muttered, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with effort. “Always testing me, always pushing.” His other hand reached down, cupping your chin as his thumb traced over your swollen lips. “But you’re mine, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your voice breathy as you whispered, “Yes, Daddy. Always yours.”

“Good girl,” he said, his voice softening slightly, though the dominant edge remained. “Now get back to it. I’m not done with you yet.”

You obeyed without hesitation, taking him into your mouth again, hollowing your cheeks as you slid down his length. His fingers tightened in your hair, his hips rocking forward slightly, his breath catching as he watched you work. Each flick of your tongue, each moan you let out around him, pushed him closer to the edge, his control slipping bit by bit.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice a low rasp as his hazel eyes burned with desire. “The way you look at me… the way you take me…” He trailed off, his jaw clenching again as another moan threatened to escape. “Fuck,” he growled under his breath, his frustration with himself evident as he struggled to maintain his composure.

You pulled back once more, your lips glistening as you looked up at him, your voice a soft, teasing whisper. “Let go, Frank. Let me hear you.”

His hazel eyes met yours, a flicker of hesitation flashing across his face before it melted away, replaced by something raw and primal. With a low growl, he cupped your face in both hands, pulling you to your feet in one swift motion. His lips crashed against yours, demanding and hungry, as he backed you toward the bed.

“You want me to let go?” he murmured against your lips, his voice a dark, sinful promise. “Fine. But don’t think for a second you’re in control here.”

Frank’s hands gripped your shoulders firmly as he pushed you gently back onto the bed, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with a possessive, almost predatory gleam. His baritone voice, calm and commanding, sent a shiver down your spine as he murmured, “You’ve been testing me all night, sweetheart. Now it’s time I remind you who’s in charge.”

Your breath caught as he leaned over you, his hooked nose brushing against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his lips grazing your ear. “Daddy’s been far too patient with you, hasn’t he?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Letting you push, letting you tease. But that ends now.”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “Yes, Daddy.” The words sent a thrill through you, your body already trembling with anticipation as his large hands slid down your sides, exploring every curve as though staking his claim.

Frank chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving yours. “Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Always so eager for me.”

As he knelt between your legs, his hands gripped your thighs firmly, spreading you wide beneath him. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch, every detail, his expression filled with dark appreciation. “Look at you,” he said, his voice a low growl. “So perfect, so needy. All mine.”

You moaned softly as his fingers brushed over your sensitive folds, teasing you, making you squirm beneath his touch. “Please, Daddy,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. “I need you.”

He smirked, his thumb pressing lightly against your clit, drawing a gasp from your lips as he leaned in closer. “You need me, do you?” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “Then show me how much, baby girl. Beg for it.”

Your cheeks flushed, but the words spilled from your lips without hesitation. “Please, Daddy. Please touch me. I need you inside me. I can’t take it anymore.”

Frank’s hazel eyes darkened with satisfaction as he slid a finger inside you, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing out every gasp and whimper as he explored you. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a soft growl. “So wet for me. So ready.”

His finger moved with practiced precision, each curl and stroke sending waves of pleasure through you, but he didn’t let you get too close, pulling back just as your hips bucked against him. “Not yet, baby girl,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. “You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You whimpered, your body aching with need as he withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening with your arousal. He brought them to his lips, tasting you with a low hum of approval before leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. The taste of yourself on him only fueled your desire, and you reached out, your hands gripping his shirt as you pulled him closer.

Frank pulled back just enough to smirk down at you, his hooked nose casting shadows over his flushed face. “Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. “Don’t worry, baby girl. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

He undressed slowly, his white hair catching the soft light of the room as he bared himself to you, his chubby frame exuding strength and authority. When he finally settled over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, you felt a sense of safety and anticipation all at once.

Frank reached between you, guiding himself to your entrance, his hazel eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Ready, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice softer now, a hint of tenderness breaking through his commanding tone.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered, your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. “Please… I need you.”

With a low groan, Frank pushed inside you, his movements slow and deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him as he filled you completely. “Fuck, baby girl,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “You feel so good… so tight.”

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his thrusts deep and measured, each one igniting sparks of pleasure that made your body arch against him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing over your neck as he found a steady rhythm. “Take me, baby girl. Take all of me.”

His pace quickened, his control slipping as he lost himself in you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps against your ear. “You drive me fucking mad,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. “The way you feel, the way you moan for me… you’re perfect.”

“Daddy…” you whimpered, your body trembling beneath him as you felt yourself nearing the edge, your hips bucking against his as you chased your release. “Please… I’m so close.”

Frank’s hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and pressing firmly, his movements sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body tightening around him as your orgasm washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms.

The sensation pushed Frank over the edge as well, a low, guttural groan escaping him as he buried himself deep inside you, his release filling you as he shuddered against you. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough and satisfied as he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms.

As you lay together, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your back, Frank pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice filled with both possessiveness and affection. “Always mine.”

Frank let out a low, contented sigh as he pulled you into his arms, his large hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. You nestled closer, feeling the comforting weight of his body beside yours. For a moment, the world felt perfectly still, just the sound of your breaths mingling in the quiet bedroom. But Frank’s discipline always loomed—never letting him linger too long in any state of vulnerability.

He shifted beneath you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “Stay here, sweetheart. I need to clean up.”

You whined softly, clutching at his arm. “But I like you here. Don’t leave yet, Daddy.”

Frank chuckled, the deep timbre of his baritone voice rumbling through you. “I’m not going far,” he assured you, his hazel eyes warm with affection. “Let me take care of you.”

Reluctantly, you let him go, watching as he pulled himself up with a quiet grunt, his slightly chubby frame moving with surprising grace. He disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a damp, warm cloth. You couldn’t help but smile as he knelt beside you, carefully cleaning the evidence of your shared passion from your skin. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as though cherishing every moment of caring for you.

“This side of you,” you murmured, brushing a hand over his hooked nose and down to his cheek. “So in charge, yet so soft. I love it.”

He smirked, his lips curling in that way that always made your heart flutter. “I take care of what’s mine,” he said simply, his baritone voice steady and assured. “Always.”

Once he was satisfied, he tucked you back under the covers, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling on his pants. Your brows knit together as you watched him. “Where are you going?” you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

Frank reached for his shirt, his expression calm but resolute. “I left my gun downstairs,” he stated matter-of-factly, already buttoning his pants. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You frowned, sitting up in bed. “Frank, can’t it wait? Come back to bed with me. The house is secure—nothing’s going to happen.”

He paused, turning to face you, his hazel eyes softening just a fraction. “Sweetheart,” he began, his voice gentle but firm, “I know you feel safe here, and that’s good. But it’s my job to make sure you stay safe. Always. I don’t leave my weapon out of reach—ever.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “You’re too careful sometimes.”

“And that’s why you’re here, safe and sound,” he countered, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he exhaled. “Discipline, love. A military man never lets his guard down. Even in a quiet neighborhood like this, security is everything.”

As he headed for the bedroom door, you called after him, your voice laced with playful defiance. “You’re ridiculous. Who walks around their own house with a gun at night?”

Frank paused, looking over his shoulder with a knowing smirk. “A man who loves his girl and wants her to sleep soundly. That’s who.” His tone softened as he added, “I’ll check the doors and windows while I’m at it. Be right back, baby girl.”

You sighed, sinking back into the pillows, a mix of exasperation and admiration coursing through you. Frank’s protectiveness was frustrating at times, but it was also one of the reasons you felt so loved, so cherished.

Downstairs, you could hear his deliberate footsteps moving through the house. You imagined him walking from room to room, his sharp hazel eyes scanning every lock, every latch, his hand brushing over the cool metal of his gun as he ensured everything was secure. The thought of him taking his role as protector so seriously sent a warmth spreading through your chest.

When he returned, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the doorway, you couldn’t help but smile. “All clear, Lieutenant General?” you teased, your tone light but affectionate.

He set his gun on the bedside table, his gaze softening as he climbed back into bed beside you. “All clear,” he confirmed, pulling you into his arms once more. “Now, where were we?”

You nestled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, your words muffled against his skin.

“And you wouldn’t have me any other way,” he replied, his voice a low rumble as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You sighed contentedly, letting his warmth and strength surround you, feeling safer than ever in the arms of the man who would do anything to protect you.

[showyourself80]

Just to remind you this is how Sinclair/Alan sounds whimpering 💅🏼😌

USE HEADPHONES ⚠️

Movie: Close my eyes (watch it at your own risk, is weird af but Alan is such a cutie pie)

[showyourself80]

Reactions to... a love confession

"Oh."

"Thank you."

"I love you too."

"I don't know what to say."

"Not the right time, not the right place."

"I never thought you could love me."

"You're as stupid as you look if you think I don't feel the same!"

"What do you want me to say now?"

"I've waited so long to hear this."

"Can you please repeat that?"

"You were quite obvious."

"I've always known this."

"Can I get some time before I answer?"

"Why did you decide to tell me now?"

"I guess I have always been in love with you too."

"This is not a prank, right? Because then I would have to punch you and I actually really want to kiss you."

"You're not the only one who feels like that."

More: Love Confessions Masterpost

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[showyourself80]

I'd actually love to see as many of these used on an unwilling Snape as possible in Snarry fics 😂😂😂

Cuddling Dialogue

"Have you always been this cuddly?"

"Come here, I'll warm you up."

"You're so warm and soft."

"Let's just stay in bed and cuddle some more."

"Nothing feels better than your body."

"You actually do give amazing hugs."

"I think someone needs a good cuddle."

"Hmm, you fit so well in my arms."

"You're like my personal teddy bear."

"Need a cuddle?"

"Come on, bring it in."

"You can't escape my cuddles."

"I'm not letting go, so you can stop fighting it."

"Today is one of those stay in bed and cuddle days."

"I want to stay in your arms forever."

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[showyourself80]

These are comments on a post about "immoral porn" and it made me so fucking angry I had to rant here. THIS IS NOT TRUE. Consuming "fuckdd up" content, including sexual content, does NOT corrupt you or numb you to the point you'll seek out worse and worse stuff or suddenly be okay with doing it IRL.

Do you know why people say this? Where it comes from? FUCKING TED BUNDY saying that "hardcore pornography" was the reason he killed women. SERIOUSLY. Obviously HE WAS LYING!!! He was a lying ass bitch who wanted to kill people, then once he was caught he invented an excuse that would make him look more sympathetic!!

Porn is not actually a slippery slope into serial killing. People choose to do awful things because of their underlying value system, not because of the art they engage with.

[showyourself80]

[showyourself80]

not me just making myself sad about snape on the hogwarts staff

1980-ish, voldemort's sent him to apply for DADA; he failed in this first attempt, but brought back the prophecy. fast forward to september 1981 and sev has turned, is working for dumbledore, is perhaps already having to use occlumency to prevent voldemort from working out his true motives and the fact he went to Dumbledore for a reason other than "spinning a tale of deepest remorse" for the sake of spying

he's 21ish. he's teaching little kids all the way to students barely younger than him. secondary school students can be unbelievably cruel and rowdy (source: our year, famous for being one of the most tame in the yeargroup and forever bitter that the actually wild year above us got all of our privileges like going into town at lunch revoked for shoplifting, made at least one teacher cry; other source: the marauders).

he's having a constant low-level crisis about whether he's doing everything right. he's second-guessing himself because school guidelines are so vague. he gets told he's a harsh marker and to allow for the fact his students are kids. he's just sticking to the guidelines. he'd never have made these mistakes.

students whisper about him behind his back for all the same reasons harry and the marauders did (he's too ugly, too greasy, too sour). he's teaching lockhart. lockhart is in a year where he'd have heard what happened in SWM. i don't think Lockhart is intentionally cruel but he will say anything for attention; he starts the rumour again after giving a dramatic performance with real and gossip-added details of SWM and other encounters. severus battles for classroom discipline; he has to rule with an iron fist. the next time he loses classroom control is after lupin's lesson with the boggart

he potentially has no close peers. the closest people in age to him are the students, but he can't socialise with them. his colleagues were his teachers only a few years ago; they either know outright that he'd spent time as a death eater or heard rumours that he was very likely to have been one. the war is ongoing. they treat him with politeness and respect because this was dumbledore's doing, not because they like or trust him. he's on their side now, but they don't know that

the war ends a few weeks into his first term. voldemort is gone. lily is dead. snape is sobbing in dumbledore's office, but he won't tell anyone else he's upset; he never tells anyone the depth of his feelings for lily, his guilt and remorse. his temper shortens; he's even less popular with the students, and more reclusive with the staff. i imagine it takes a while for his friendly rivalry with minerva to develop.

he still feels like a child. he doesn't have the experience for this job. he doesn't have the desire. he was never a leader, and now he's head of house, potions master, unofficial dark arts expert amidst the ongoing cycle of DADA teachers. he spends the first few months or years feeling constantly out of his depth, isolated, grieving, depressed. his house is still the odd one out. he's still the odd one out.

eventually he grows into the role. he's comfortable with his reputation and his teaching style. he's on good terms with dumbledore and minerva, the others rally behind him when they hate a DADA teacher. but he's never certain whether the other teachers accept him as one of their own or whether they're all just polite on dumbledore's word

eventually he finds out the hard way. he's isolated and hated and terrified and grieving alone. whenever he makes an appearance as headmaster he fleetingly thinks it would've been easier if he were someone else; if someone like pomona or filius or minerva had killed dumbledore, people would be outraged, but they'd think something else was going on. they'd trust them enough to know that there were other factors at play. his peers, his colleagues, wouldn't be looking at him that way. hadn't he spent over a decade with them, sharing the staffroom, sharing meals, making jokes about quidditch, bitching about umbridge, sighing about lockhart, groaning about exams and the board of governors and the twin weasleys' pranks?

he knows their trust stemmed from dumbledore, and it died with him. he knows it has to be this way. he knows he actively made it this way. he had to, for his cover, for his role, for everyone's safety

but sometimes he allows himself to imagine how nice it would feel if he wasn't completely alone

[showyourself80]

Drunken Love Confessions

"I like your stupid face. It’s so stupid. It’s so… I like it. Can I touch it?"

"You're all I ever wanted. I'm sorry I can't say it sober."

"I can't wait for the room to stop spinning, so I can focus on your face again."

"I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back."

"You're cute. And a bit blurry. But definitely always so cute."

"I think I love you." "And I would love to answer you accordingly, but I think I would appreciate it more when you’re actually able to understand my answer."

"Don't tell my sober me that I told you I love you. It was a secret."

"I…I want to give you my heart. It belongs to… to you. How… how can I give it to you? I don’t want it anymore." "Let’s wait until tomorrow with the surgery."

"Oh I'm dreaming of you again. If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you."

"I love you. But that's a secret. So I won't tell you about it."

"You're drunk." "Yes. And hopelessly in love with you."

"I'm seeing you twice. Oh, now I can give all my love to even more of you."

"Say that again after two coffees at least and I will be yours."

"You're so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down."

"I've always loved you. But I will never tell you."

"This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams we're usually kissing."

"I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?" "You’re not doing anything." "But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?"

"Can you keep a secret? I am madly in love with you. But psshh."

"I fell in love with you." "No, you fell down the stairs. You should really learn to hold your liquor."

"You're so perfect. How can anyone be so perfect? Maybe you're just a dream."

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

[showyourself80]

"love is love" until it doesn't include sex

"love is love" until it lives in separate beds

"love is love" until it is queer platonic

"love is love" until it does not comply with compulsory sexuality and amatonormativity

love IS love, for aspecs, for sex sepulsed folk and for platonic relationships

"love is love" apply to more than same-sex relationships in a world where romantic and sexual relationships are considered more valuable

Remember to advocate for Asexuals and Aromantics this pride. Because we are also here, and we are also queer

[showyourself80]

There is no way back.

Aiming for colour with this one. (And that means I'll show what Severus is hiding under the glove 🤫)

I really don't like the "hurry" we live in. It's like… everything has to be done for yesterday, if you get what I mean. This feeling is my shadow and it's kinda killing me inside because I want to do- draw so many things and even more but I can't skip "the progress" part, which is slow as hell. So I'm not finishing shitloads of fanarts and sometimes it's really bothering me. In the same time I'm happy because I managed to learn to share unfinished stuff, not keep it in the drawer, you know, far away from everyone. I feel like this hurry-thingy don't want to let me go. Like… if I want to draw something, there is that thought in the back of my head: "finish it today, in two hours or so; if you don't, you will throw this idea away and will never come back to it!". It's weird, it sounds like a threat in my brain, hehe. I don't know how to explain it, but I just realised this is another part of my "old way of thinking" that I have to say goodbye to. Maybe writing it down will help me to remember that I don't have to hurry anymore with doing fanarts. With drawing for myself at all. Of course I'm not talking about doing one art in a month, because that's... no, just no, lol. But giving myself, you know, a permission to work on something at least couple days... it sounds nice.

[showyourself80]

Stages Of an Arranged Marriage Writing Tips

The whole thing starts with that awkward moment, the first time they meet. It's not like some romantic movie scene or anything. More like two strangers, thrown together by fate (or their families), fumbling around, unsure of how they’re supposed to act. There’s this weird tension, like they’re both trying to figure out if this is really happening. Do they shake hands? Say something witty? Or just stare at their shoes and hope someone else fills the silence?

And speaking of silence, there’s a lot of it. Those early conversations are painfully stiff, with long pauses where they’re both scrambling for something, anything, to say. But eventually, one of them cracks a joke or finds something they both like, music, movies, some random topic. And it’s like a tiny window opens. Just a little, but enough to let some air in, enough to feel like they might not be total strangers forever.

Then comes the learning phase. They start picking up on each other's habits, the way they stir their coffee, or the fact that they always forget their keys. At first, it's just background noise, but slowly it becomes something familiar. They realize they're not tiptoeing around each other as much anymore. They might not be best friends, but there's a rhythm starting to form, like they're both settling into this new, weird reality.

Of course, it’s not all smooth sailing. There are moments when everything feels like too much. The weight of being tied to someone they didn’t choose starts pressing down, and they’re both frustrated. Sometimes with each other, sometimes just with the whole situation. There’s tension, maybe even a few arguments, and it feels like they’re stuck in this impossible bind.

And then there’s that one conversation. The one where they’re both too tired to keep the walls up. Maybe it happens late at night, or when they’re caught off guard, but suddenly, they’re talking about real things. Fears, hopes, the stuff that actually matters. After that, they look at each other differently.

What’s even weirder is when they catch themselves caring, like, genuinely caring. They didn’t expect it, didn’t want it at first, but now it’s there. And it's not just that, it’s this slow, almost sneaky attraction that creeps up on them. They start noticing little things, like the way the other smiles, or how they laugh at their dumb jokes, and it makes them feel...something.

Before they know it, the tension they felt at the start melts into something else entirely. What began as awkwardness and uncertainty turns into understanding.

[showyourself80]

Snarry Microfic Fest 2024 🕸️ October Prompts

This is a fest with daily prompts to inspire you to write snarry microfics. While I encourage you to write microfics/drabbles, there is no word maximum. You can mix any of the prompts together. Every day, there will be two prompts. You can choose one or both to write. And you're allowed to write for previous prompts.

AO3 COLLECTION for you to post your fics.

Rules:

All content is allowed, but you must be at least 18 to post nsfw or dead dove content.

Tag your tumblr posts with #snarry microfics 2024 and/or tag @snarrymicrofics

Add the appropriate warnings to your work

No ai works, must be an original work written by you

October

Ghost, Nail polish

Miniature, “I knew it!”

Praise, Pumpkin

Cabin, Hateful

Cat, Skeleton

Evening, Shun

Breed, Vampire

Churlish, Lumber

Creepy, Wrangle

Song: Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex, Toes

Tombstone, “You lied."

Chess, Flimsy

Cobweb, Vigil

Acquire, Revert

"Am I annoying you?", Cauldron

Bush, Shallow

Injury, Scarecrow

"I'm tired of you.", Insure

Graveyard, Muffin

Afternoon, Song: older - Isabel LaRosa

Cheek, Werewolf

"Forgive me.", Party

Grim Reaper, Swallow

Octopus, Poised

Ghastly, Jostle

Carve, Shave

Clip, Mask

"I'm fine.", Otter

Cup, Sweater

Song: Yes We Can - Ruelle, Sip

Adage, Cynical

Substitutes: Luggage, Rose, Vein, Wine

[showyourself80]

Showing 'Fear' in Writing

Eyes wide with pupils dilated.

Hands trembling uncontrollably.

Heart pounding audibly in the chest.

Backing away slowly, seeking escape.

Holding breath or breathing shallowly.

Breaking out in a cold sweat.

Startling at the slightest sound.

Whispering or speaking in a hushed tone.

Looking over their shoulder repeatedly.

Clutching at clothing or objects for reassurance.

Voice quivering or stammering.

Legs feeling weak or buckling.

Feeling a chill run down the spine.

Hugging oneself protectively.

Trying to make themselves smaller.

Furtive glances around the room.

Feeling light-headed or dizzy.

Stiffening up and freezing in place.

Swallowing hard, throat dry.

Eyes darting around, unable to focus.