#and they absolutely revere the show

[thelustybraavosimaid]

A reminder.

This is what Jon in his arc about outsiders and unity and prejudice and seeing past preconceived notions and going against convention is all leading to you guys...

[teamhawkeye]

"i don't care about her character that much-" then why are you tagging your posts with her name so that others who like her have to see your bullshit?

[sunforgrace]

having fresh off the angel lobotomy line factory settings recently heaven reconditioned cas pull up to the scene post love confession and immediate death would be a prime Put That Guy in a Situation. truly a pear wiggler scenario deeply, deeply nightmarish for them both. and for that reason i would like to see it

[mw00nie]

older boyfriend nanami headcanons

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A/N: i have exams soon so i have lots of ideas to write so i'm posting as much as i can rn 😭😭 also these contain some nsfw

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older boyfriend!nanami who always adjusts his pace to match yours. whether you're walking down a busy street or folding laundry side by side. He’s not rushing anywhere when he's with you. Being present with you is the point.

older boyfriend!nanami who folds your laundry exactly the way you like it. even your silly socks. even your oversized tshirts. he’s meticulous and thoughtful, and you didn’t even ask him to do it.

older boyfriend!nanami who keeps track of the smallest details: how you take your tea, what skincare products you’re running low on, that one book you said you wanted but never bought. He doesn’t announce it. You just find things quietly replaced or added to your shelf.

older boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t mind being teased for being a little bit of an old man. You’ll call him grandpa for drinking herbal tea before bed or sighing when he sits down, and he’ll just raise an eyebrow and say, “And yet you still insist on keeping me around.”

older boyfriend!nanami who keeps one of your hair ties around his wrist even though his hair is short. says it’s “just in case,” but you’ve never actually seen him use it. You catch him playing with it absentmindedly during meetings.

older boyfriend!nanami who calls you “darling” when he’s tired and his guard is down. It slips out like second nature; warm, low, reverent.

older boyfriend!nanami who always makes sure you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk. It’s instinctive, not performative. If you switch sides by accident, he’ll gently guide you back with a hand on your lower back, no need to comment on it.

older boyfriend!nanami who sends you articles and short stories during his lunch break that “reminded me of you” sometimes it’s thoughtful, sometimes it’s hilarious, but every time it’s his way of saying I’m thinking about you.

older boyfriend!nanami who reads to you in bed when you’re too tired to focus. voice low and steady, thumb rubbing slow circles into your thigh as your head rests against his shoulder.

older boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t raise his voice when he’s upset. His anger shows in restraint. longer silences, slower breaths, the way he closes his eyes for a second like he’s trying to steady the weight of what he feels instead of letting it lash out.

older boyfriend!nanami who apologizes when he’s wrong. sincerely, without ego, and who listens when you’re upset. even if he’s tired. even if the day was long. You matter more.

older boyfriend!nanami who listens when you talk about your day. actually listens. Not just nodding along, but making thoughtful comments, remembering coworkers’ names, and offering advice only if you ask. Sometimes he just says, “That sounds exhausting. I’m proud of you for handling it.”

older boyfriend!nanami who takes his time undressing you, piece by piece, like every layer is a gift. You get the sense that he doesn’t see it as just getting you naked. it’s about revealing the parts of you you trust him with.

older boyfriend!nanami  who is very aware of his size, not just in height but everywhere. He’s careful, unless you ask him not to be. And when you do? His restraint crumbles just a little. He’ll fuck you slow but deep, jaw tight, voice strained with want.

older boyfriend!nanami who is unexpectedly vocal in bed. low praise, soft groans, breathy murmurs of “just like that” and “you’re doing so well.” Always with a hand somewhere on your skin like he’s grounding himself through touch.

older boyfriend!nanami who isn’t into degrading or overly rough stuff, but dirty talk? Soft filth murmured into your ear while he’s deep inside you? Absolutely. “You’re taking me so well.” “You don’t even know what you do to me.” “I’d give you anything.”

older boyfriend!nanami who fucks you with his whole body, not just his hips. His arms around you. His lips on your skin. One large hand holding your jaw gently while he kisses you deep and slow like he’s reminding you (and himself) that you’re real, and his.

older boyfriend!nanami  who prefers intimacy over performance. He’s not interested in theatrics. he wants to feel you, slow and deep, with your hands tangled in his, your breath on his neck, your voice in his ear.

older boyfriend!nanami who’s very composed most of the time, but the second you take control, straddle him, or kiss down his chest, that composure cracks. his voice gets breathier. his grip on your hips tightens. you see the restraint unraveling in real time.

older boyfriend!nanami who gets possessive in subtle, understated ways. he doesn’t say “you’re mine” in bed, he shows it in the way he touches you like you're sacred, the way his voice deepens when someone else flirts with you, the way he fucks you slow and deep like he’s leaving something behind.

older boyfriend!nanami  who loves aftercare. loves wiping you down, pulling you into his arms, holding your hand against his chest. He’ll murmur, “You okay?” with his lips at your hairline, and doesn’t fall asleep until you do.

older boyfriend!nanami who takes his time during aftercare. he wipes you down with warm towels, gets you water, runs a bath if you're too sore. he massages your thighs, kisses your forehead, and holds you close with his arms tucked protectively around your waist.

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[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, soap x reader, semi-forced proximity, domestic reliance, pushy soap - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Johnny who, much to your dismay, loves having the windows open when winter rolls around.

Just at his core, he definitely prefers the bite of the sharp, fresh air swirling around his head opposed to whatever the stuffy heater had spit out. Ask him to dig deeper, though...

He all but gets off on feeling useful- your big work horse through and through. All you need do is open that mouth of yours and he's shovelling the driveway, salting the steps, warming up the car, going into town, running your baths, making you warm drinks- he's properly addicted to the reverence in your eyes when you're all comfortable in your tangle of blankets and he gets the chance to show you that he can provide. Cannae have ye' freezin' up when he's more than capable.

If you do manage to get around his stupidly bulky body and into the cold, he’s a sucker for the way your nose and cheeks take to it. Loves this fact even more the times he remembers the way his big calloused mitts can cover them up when he takes your face in his hands if only to coo at you about how yer’ just not built for it like he is.

Attention is attention, and admittedly this man is a glutton for your ire. He knows you can get a bit stressed when your environment isn't comfortable- it's not your fault, and he's more than happy to take the brunt of it. He absolutely loves when you get on his ass for the 50th time that you can’t run the heat if the windows are open, your pointed glare when he just grins and nods. Hand to heart, he’ll keep that in mind this time.

He’s utterly pleased with himself when you remember that he runs as hot in the winter as a wild animal like him needs to in order to survive. Suddenly you’re quietly hovering around him more, you let him hang onto you without the usual protest, you even stick close enough for him to pull your freezing hands into the pockets of his thick sweatpants- sometimes his waistband if he thinks he can get away with it. He loves the cuddles and all, but even better is how pliant he can get you when you’re under your covers, clinging to him like he's got a hearth tucked snug into the cavity where his heart should be. What better way to warm up than sharing body heat, after all?

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Interesting what people are taking away from S3, particularly the discourse around how Pen wasn’t properly romanced or courted “because she’s a mid-sized lead.”

Babes. My love. Sweetheart.

Daphne was fake courted for weeks and then compromised and then denied a proposal.

Kate was all tension, turmoil and heartbreak and then compromised further.

Pen got:

- two stags locking horns over her affections,

- chased down in a carriage,

- a man on his knees for her begging her to see him as a prospect,

- the best (imo) “I have feelings for you and have no idea if you feel the same but I just need you to know it” speech since 2005 P&P,

- a very sexy and consensual, if compromising, romp in a carriage,

- FULL AND IMMEDIATE COMMITMENT WITH ZERO BULLSHIT because this man could not live one more second without her being his,

- defended to her mother,

- paraded around the ton and in front of her worst enemy’s face,

- the most utterly reverent sex scene in the history of the show,

- an engagement ring that matched his mother’s because of the parallel friends to lovers love story,

- and him constantly worried out of his mind that he wasn’t good enough for her

✨ AS ✨ SHE ✨ DESERVED ✨

I mean, maybe I’m a little too modern but that beats a promenade and flavored ice dates and calling hours by literal lightyears. That angel girl was thoroughly — damn nearly aggressively — romanced.

Do I still have issues with the screen time, absolutely, but Jesus if Colin wasn’t head over heels whenever he pulled his head out of his ass. (And even, sometimes, when he hadn’t.)

[sunsburns]

Hey girl I have a request. I think Clark is into body worship, both receiving and giving but I feel he’d be so cute being in the receiving end. He’s Superman, he gets praise all the time and takes it in stride, but when it comes to you? Oh he gets shy, his cheeks are pink, he stutters a bit. When you tell him how big he is, there’s always a “…you think so?” “I’m not that big…”. His eyes are glazed when you start kissing and groping him everywhere appreciatively. Clark becomes bashful and flustered because all the praise coming from YOU just hits different. Can you please add onto this 😭😭😭

oh, you are absolutely cooking here. clark being shy and flustered when he’s on the receiving end of body worship? that’s a full-course meal. (18+) ᢉ𐭩

it starts with something small. maybe an offhand compliment while he's getting dressed—your eyes lingering just a second too long, watching how his muscles shift under his skin, the sheer width of him, the way his broad shoulders slope into a tapered waist, strong arms straining slightly as he buttons up his shirt.

“you’re so big.”

three words, simple, but they wreck him.

his hands falter, button slipping from his fingers, and his head turns towards you, brows pinched in disbelief, a soft, breathy laugh escaping him like he’s not sure he heard you right.

“…you think so?”

he’s genuinely unsure. as if he hasn’t had people across the globe marvel at him, as if he isn’t literally superhuman in strength, in stature, in presence. but this—you looking at him like that, eyes dark and full of appreciation, tracing every inch of him with slow, lingering touches—this is different.

“clark, baby,” you hum, stepping in closer, letting your hands drag up his chest, feeling the solid weight of him under your palms. you look up at him, “you’re huge.”

his throat bobs, adam’s apple bobbing with a hard swallow. his skin burns under your touch, warmth radiating from him like a furnace.

“i’m not that big…” he tries, voice going a little weak when your fingers curl around his biceps, giving them an appreciative squeeze.

you just smile, letting your hands wander, mapping the planes of his body like you have all the time in the world. “mm, you are. so big. so strong. so perfect.”

and that’s when it happens—his ears go pink first, then his cheeks, and then that soft, bashful smile creeps onto his face, the kind that makes his dimples show. he can’t handle it. his hands come up like he’s going to stop you, but they just hover, unsure—because does he really want you to stop?

“you—” his voice catches, and he lets out another laugh, this time breathier, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. like he can’t believe he gets you.

but you’re not done. no, now that you see how he’s unravelling, you want more. you press your lips to his collarbone, slow and reverent, and he melts. his body twitches under your mouth, his breath coming out uneven as your kisses trail lower, over his chest, down the ridges of his abs, your hands following close behind, smoothing over every dip, every curve of muscle.

and clark—sweet, sweet clark—is squirming.

“baby,” he breathes, voice cracking just a little as he watches you kneel before him, eyes glazed and heavy-lidded. “you don’t have to—”

“but i want to.” you cut him off, lips ghosting over the center of his stomach, feeling how his muscles flex beneath your mouth. you move lower, pressing your cheek against his crotch. you basically nuzzle against his boner, tracing the shape of it with your lips, mouthing it, kissing it over his clothes.

“you’re so beautiful, clark. so handsome. so perfect.”

his whole face is red now, a helpless, lopsided smile tugging at his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, completely overwhelmed. his body can handle a lot, but this?

“okay, but make it quick.”

[ducksido]

Hallo ❤️

Can I request the all the housewarden (+ace and deuce) with yuu who is the definition of "trust me bro".

Like yuu is sharing the most ridiculous plan and ended up 100% successful. Every plan they do is flawlessly executed wkdkkekd.

It can be a plan to stop an overblot or something, you decide for the scenarios or just reactions kskdk

(content warning: malleus breakdances)

Riddle Rosehearts — “The Flamingo Stampede Strategy” Riddle: “Yuu, we’re going to be disqualified. This isn’t regulation—”

Yuu: “Trust me, bro.”

Riddle watched in horror as you lured Heartslabyul’s enchanted flamingos out of their pens and into the obstacle course race. The birds charged like a pastel cavalry, knocking over every other team’s contestants while Yuu rode one like a polo horse.

Yuu crosses the finish line victorious, absolutely unbothered. Riddle has an aneurysm on the spot… but also holds up the trophy anyway.

Riddle (internally): This is illegal. This is immoral. This is genius.

Leona Kingscholar — “The Sleepy Bluff” Leona: “This is a serious match, herbivore.”

Yuu: “Exactly. So let’s pretend I’m dead.”

Leona nearly walked off when Yuu laid motionless in the middle of the Spell Arena. The other team surrounded them, confused. Just then—WHAM! A surprise trap spell exploded under their feet, launching them out of bounds.

Yuu sat up with a yawn and dusted off their robe. “Told ya. Trust me, bro.”

Leona stared. “You’re insane. I like it.”

Azul Ashengrotto — “The Legal Loophole Heist” Azul: “There is no way we can beat that merchant’s prices—”

Yuu: “Unless we find a clause in his contract that voids the entire deal.”

Azul blinked. “...That might actually work?”

Ten minutes later, Yuu stood at the merchant’s stall, calmly citing ancient maritime trading law from a scroll they “borrowed” from the library. The merchant turned red, sputtered, and fled.

Azul looked at Yuu with reverent horror.

Azul: “Would you like a part-time position at the Lounge? I’ll pay double.”

Kalim Al-Asim — “Operation Elephant Drop” Kalim: “We need to get the fireworks to the roof fast, but the stairs are blocked!”

Yuu: “...Have you ever heard of rooftop pachyderm transport?”

Later, Kalim is screaming joyfully on top of a magic carpet… dragging a heavily enchanted elephant balloon full of fireworks, piloted by Yuu, who is directing it like a seasoned festival general.

The fireworks launch perfectly from the elephant’s trunk. The crowd cheers. Kalim hugs Yuu.

Kalim: “That was the coolest thing EVER! How did you even—?”

Yuu: “Trust me, bro.”

Vil Schoenheit — “Sabotage by Sparkle” Vil: “We’re competing in a runway show. Do not embarrass me.”

Yuu: “So I replaced our rival’s setting spray with glitter glue.”

Vil: “YOU WHAT.”

During the show, the rival model walks out—only to freeze mid-pose as their face sparkles uncontrollably under the lights. Their makeup clumps and flakes. The judges gasp.

Vil steps onto the runway next. Untouchable. Radiant. Victorious.

He glares at Yuu backstage.

Vil: “...I cannot condone this.”

Yuu: “But?”

Vil: “…You have terrifying instincts.”

Idia Shroud — “Tetris Takedown” Idia: “This raid boss has a 0.4% clear rate. We’ll never—”

Yuu: “I rearranged the dungeon tiles so it traps the boss AI in a loop.”

Idia: “That’s cheating!”

Yuu: “It’s creative problem solving.”

You and Idia watch the screen as the terrifying flame serpent glitches into the wall and starts spinning endlessly.

Idia wheezes, tears in his eyes.

Idia: “You’re terrifying. You’re amazing. Marry me. Wait—IGNORE THAT.”

Malleus Draconia — “Dragon Dance Deterrent” Malleus: “This mage’s duel is serious. Are you sure this will work?”

Yuu: “Malleus. Trust me, bro. Start dancing.”

You play a ridiculous beat on a speaker. Malleus, ancient and dignified, starts breakdancing in front of the challenger.

The opponent is so horrified and confused that they forfeit on the spot.

Malleus dusts himself off. “...I do not understand mortal tactics.”

Yuu, grinning: “But it worked, didn’t it?”

Ace Trappola — “Reverse Uno Bomb” Ace: “We’re not gonna win the card tourney like this.”

Yuu: “We play Uno cards in a poker tournament.”

Ace: “...You are the worst and best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They slam down a Reverse and then a Draw 4 in the final hand. Their opponent short-circuits from confusion. The judges allow it, citing no rule against using enchanted Uno cards.

Ace cackles. “TRUST ME BROOOO!”

Yuu: “That’s my line.”

Deuce Spade — “Make it Explode” Deuce: “We need a distraction. Just a small one.”

Yuu: “I rigged the vending machine to explode Mentos and cola on command.”

Deuce: “...WHAT.”

They press a rune. The vending machine detonates in a sugar bomb. Everyone runs.

Deuce: “We’re gonna get expelled—”

Yuu: “But we got the key, didn’t we?”

Deuce: “…I fear you. But I trust you.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Super Eater—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— nicholas loves eating your pussy, anywhere and anytime. based on this request.

warnings— oral(f receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, pussy worshiping.

a/n—the title is actually sending me LMFAOAOA. working on the requests slowly but surely <3

Nicholas had a devotion to your pleasure that was almost relentless. Every so often, he’d give you this look—a mix of awe and pure need, and you’d know exactly what he wanted, to eat you out. It didn’t matter where you were; he was completely undeterred by anything. He did not care. All he cared about was his tongue in your pussy.

One night, the two of you were driving back from a date, winding down a quiet road surrounded by trees. Without warning, Nicholas pulled over, his face determined and eyes gleaming. “Nick, what are you doing?” you asked, your laughter mingling with excitement.

He gave a sheepish grin before his voice dropped to a murmur, filled with that familiar intensity. “You know I can’t wait, I need to taste you now.” The night proceeded with your legs in the air in the backseat of his car, and him not caring about the slight uncomfortable position he was in as his tongue sucked on your clit.

Then there was that afternoon while out shopping. The two of you had barely stepped into a dressing room when Nicholas gave you a look that you recognized all too well. “We’re in public,” you whispered, but he only shook his head with a playful smile.

“No one will hear,” he reassured, already leaning in. “I just need to show you how much I love eating your pussy.”

At a family gathering, Nicholas found a chance to slip away with you upstairs, where he gently pulled you into an empty bathroom. You let out an incredulous laugh, whispering, “This is not the place.” But he just gazed at you, completely unbothered, his cheeks flushed with his usual sweetness yet edged with that fierce determination.

“I don’t care,” he murmured, his voice reverent. “I need to feel you cum on my tongue.”

As usual, you gave in to his need and ended up with your own panties in your mouth as Nicholas lapped at your juices. Your taste was better than anything his family had cooked that evening.

Another time, the two of you were at Cooper Koch’s rooftop party. The music thumped in the background, people mingling just outside the stairwell where you both slipped away. He had that look again, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you close. “Here? Seriously?”

With a soft, unbothered grin, he whispered, “I just need a few minutes to eat you out baby, you drive me insane.”

After each of these spontaneous moments, you couldn’t help but ask him. “Nick, I don’t get it. You love doing this more than anything. Why?”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks, before looking at you with complete sincerity. “I don’t know if I can put it all into words. It’s fucking everything about you,” he said, voice reverent, “the way you smell, the way you taste, I love watching you lose yourself, how you get all squirmish.” His voice softened even more, gaze affectionate yet intense. “I just want to make love to you like this. Make love to your pussy, show you how much I fucking love it. It’s about you and making you feel good, that’s all I fucking need.

His words though so dirty, left you feeling adored, with no doubt of just how deeply he cared about your pleasure. He absolutely worshiped you, especially your pussy. He always believed women when they would talk about the power of the pussy due to how much power yours had over him. It was like it was tethered to him, like it called out to him. Like it craved his skillful tongue the way he craved to taste and savor it too.

One night, a particular premiere you attended was packed, the energy high, and the atmosphere electric. You and Nicholas had just snuck into the bathroom for a quick breather when he turned to you, eyes filled with a familiar look of lust.

“Nicholas, no,” you whispered, laughing softly as he stepped closer, his hands wrapping around your waist. “We can’t, not here.”

“I need to,” he murmured, almost pleading, voice husky and low as he licked his lips. “Please, I can’t wait. I know you’re aching to have my mouth on that clit.” His lips ghosted along your jaw, and before you could say no again, you felt yourself giving in.

The way he touched you was always more than gentle—it was worshipful, his mouth leaving you breathless and gripping onto him for support as he’d make you feel like you were the only person in the world. His skillful movements had a way of knowing exactly what you needed, drawing out every little sound until you couldn’t think straight.

When you finally left the bathroom, both of you were trying not to laugh, cheeks flushed and pulses racing. You caught a knowing smile from Cooper waiting outside who must have heard, and Nicholas just pulled you close, grinning as you both walked away, hands intertwined.

“That was risky,” you said, breathless and still tingling.

He just smiled, leaning close to whisper, “Worth it. That pretty fucking pussy is worth every second of it.”

He loved when you were in the comfort of your own home, how he could bend you over anywhere, and anytime—not that he couldn’t and didn’t do the same thing when you were out. It’s just that being at home made him able to savor you even more. There was no one to interrupt, no reason to look over his shoulder, no reason to make it quick.

If you were in the kitchen making something in those tiny little booty shorts, your coils free and just one of his t shirts draped over you, he’d hike it up, pulling down your little shorts and burying his face in your plump ass, his tongue darting to lick your pussy from the back. You’d be standing up convulsing, your hand gripping the counter as he knelt down behind you, absolutely ravishing you like a man possessed.

He would not stop until your legs turned to jelly and you’d fall to your knees, but he was relentless.

On this particular night, something feral awakened inside him. He was always feral but there was something different. Maybe it had to do with you being out of the country with your girls for the week and not having any physical contact. Whatever it was, it had Nicholas worked up the moment you left and the moment you called him to pick you up from the airport.

He hugged you tightly, placing your bags in the trunk and you immediately noticed that familiar glint in his eye. You sighed internally, knowing this would probably lead to a session on the side of the road but you were shocked when he just drove straight home. Though, his hand remained on your thigh the entire drive, moving to your clothed pussy and rubbing periodically.

“Fucking hell you tortured me,” he began, “one whole fucking week without your pussy in my mouth.”

You rolled your eyes, staring out the window as you pulled into the driveway, not knowing just how serious and feral he was.

You barely finished your long, relaxing bath when Nicholas appeared, sweeping you into his arms before you could even catch your breath. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and needy, his hands trailing over your still damp skin as he pulled you close.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice thick with longing. “I missed your taste, your scent, the way you’d writhe under my touch, scream my name, fucking everything. I need that pussy, now.”

His intensity left you breathless, and before you knew it, he was leading you toward the bed. “Sit on face,”he whispered, eyes dark with anticipation. “Let me show you just how much I worship this pussy.”

You felt a shiver run through you as you settled above him, and he looked up at you with a grin, his hands holding you close as he murmured, “Perfect.” His movements were filled with a fierce, passionate need, each touch and kiss a reminder of how much he’d missed you, his hands steadying you while he worshiped every inch.

The feeling was like ecstasy, you were high in the clouds from the way he lapped at your juices, his tongue flat against your pussy then curling and flicking exactly where you needed it.

His little moans of content had you shivering and holding on to the bed frame for support.

You gasped, overwhelmed by his intensity, and he looked up, grinning as he said, “Don’t hold back, I want it all.”

You couldn’t hold back if you wanted to, his tongue was practically penetrating your hole as he shoved it inside, sucking and licking everything that came out of you.

“I love this pussy, you’re amazing, everything about you,” he groaned.

Your cries grew louder and more desperate, each time you felt like you were on the edge, he’d slow down his movements.

“This pussy is heaven, I’d die if I couldn’t have my mouth on it.”

“God, mm- this fucking pussy has me in a chokehold.”

“So tight, you’re just clenching around my tongue.”

“You’re so perfect, this pussy is perfect in every single way.”

“I could have you on top of me for the rest of eternity.”

“Grind on my face, rub your pussy all over my face, give it to me baby.”

His words had you sobbing in pleasure, and he kept you on edge so you could get even more sloppy and needy for him. Your pussy practically soaked his mouth and was dripping down his chin.

“Please Nick, I really need to cum,” you pleaded.

“Just a bit more baby, I need to have you soak me a little bit more.”

Nicholas had you on the edge for what felt like forever, teasing and taking his time, his mouth moving over your pussy with a focus that made every nerve in your body come alive. He looked up at you now and then, that glint in his eye as he paused just when you were about to fall over the edge, whispering praises and reassurances.

“Fuck, I’d do anything for you, you have me under your spell,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, sending another shiver through you. “So perfect for me, every single part of you.”

Every time you felt yourself getting closer, his pace would change, drawing you back just enough to keep you in a state of dizzy anticipation. The way he looked at you, like you were all he ever wanted, made you melt as he made love to your pussy and worshiped you.

Finally, when he decided you’d had enough, he held you steady and whispered, “Let go for me baby, I want you to squirt all over my face, I’ve got you.”

At his words, the dam inside you finally broke, and the release was overwhelming. You trembled beneath his touch, feeling completely lost in the intensity of it as he held you, anchoring you through every moment. You soaked him, your orgasm spraying from you as his face and chest was drenched in your juices. His grin, proud and gentle, was the last thing you saw as he lifted you from on top of him lay you down and kissed you softly, murmuring, “Perfect. My perfect girl.”

[libingan]

simon riley is a munch it’s canon

simon “ghost” riley was absolutely obsessed with you—specifically, with your cunt. it was an addiction, a fixation, something primal that he couldn’t shake. he didn’t care where you were, what you were doing, or if you were even ready. the man would drop to his knees without hesitation, like he was born for the sole purpose of worshiping you.

—

you could be at the counter, chopping vegetables for dinner, humming to yourself as you moved about. simon could be supposed to be setting the table, but instead, he’d be standing behind you, staring at the way your ass swayed with every movement.

“you expect me to just sit here and eat dinner after this?” he’d ask, his deep voice thick with hunger.

before you could respond, his hands would be on your hips, and he’d be tugging your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. you’d gasp, but simon wouldn’t give you a chance to protest.

“let me have a taste, love,” he’d murmur, sinking to his knees and spreading your cheeks apart. his hot breath would fan over your folds, and you’d tremble as his tongue darted out to lick a slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt.

“fuck, always so perfect,” he’d growl, his lips pressing wet kisses to your clit. “could spend hours here. don’t need anything else.”

your hands clutch at the counter for support, your knife long forgotten, as simon devoured you like a man starved.

—

you could be curled up on the couch, lost in your favorite show, when simon walked in. you might not notice him at first, but the second he’d see you—legs tucked under you, wearing one of his t-shirts—he couldn’t help himself.

he’d sit down beside you, his hand sliding up your thigh as he leaned in close. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he’d mutter, his voice low and rough.

“simon, I’m watching—”

“don’t care,” he’d cut you off, already pulling at your panties. “need you right now.”

before you could protest, he’d pull you down the couch, spreading your legs over his broad shoulders as he settled between them. his lips could brush against your inner thigh, and he’d look up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“gonna talk to you, love,” he’d murmur, his voice a mix of reverence and lust. “gonna tell this sweet cunt how much i love it. how fuckin’ perfect it is.”

and then his mouth would be on you, his tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking gently as he moaned against you. you could feel him rutting against the couch, so worked up just from the taste of you.

—

it could be early morning, and you could still be half-asleep when you’d feel him stir beside you. you’d think he was just shifting, but then his lips would be on your thighs, trailing slow, lazy kisses up to your center.

“simon,” you’d mumble, voice heavy with sleep.

“shh, love,” he’d whisper, pulling the blankets down to expose you. “just need a little taste. promise i’ll be gentle.”

you’d barely have time to process his words before his mouth would be on you, his tongue slipping between your folds with practiced ease. his hands could grip your hips, holding you in place as he worked, his groans vibrating against you.

“this cunt,” he’d mutter between licks, his voice muffled and desperate. “could fuckin’ die happy right here. don’t even need to be inside you. this is enough.”

and it would be true. simon wouldn’t care if he got off or not—just having you like this, tasting you, hearing your moans, would be enough to send him over the edge every time.

[kxsagi]

hii, i hope you're doing well ^^ I really enjoy your style of writing :) i was wondering if you can make my request with tooth rotting fluff the reader's love is so gentle and she takes time trying to understand her S/O and she will always ask for permission to touch them even if they given her permission already, the reader cares for her S/O so gently and delicate like something so dear to her life? Feel free to do this with any blue lock characters ^^ and you can also ignore this if it's way too much work haha, another thing is that i love your works and please take some rest whenever you need it.

“𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞”

a/n: hi! i'm doing well and i hope you are too beautiful :) and thank you so much!!! take rest whenever you need it as well

this was some good needed fluff

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, ness alexis, niko ikki, hiori yo

itoshi rin

at first, he doesn't understand why you're so soft with him. you’re careful when touching his hand, always asking “can i hold you?” like he’ll shatter if you don't ask. 

it overwhelms him. the kind of love that doesn't demand, doesn’t press, but patiently waits for him to be ready. 

you’d brush hair from his face with trembling fingers and say, “is this okay?” even after years of dating, and he’d nod, ears pink, mumbling, “you don’t have to ask.” 

“i want to,” you’d smile. “you’re important to me.” 

that sentence alone makes his chest hurt (in a good way). 

sometimes he stares at you while you're fussing over his bruises, and all he can think is how the hell did i get this lucky? 

isagi yoichi

he melts like butter in the sun. absolutely smitten with how gently you love him. 

the first time you tucked a blanket around him after a long match, whispering, “can i kiss your forehead?” he blinked at you like you'd just proposed. 

he’s not used to being treated like he’s fragile, but you do it so sincerely that it never feels emasculating. just loving. 

you’ll brush your fingers over his knuckles and ask, “can i?” even though you’ve kissed him a million times, and he’ll smile like it’s the first time every time. 

he tries to match your softness. fails most of the time because he’s clumsy with words, but the love shows in how tightly he holds your pinky when you're walking together. 

bachira meguru

thinks your gentleness is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

he’s so used to loud, chaotic love that your careful affection hits different. it makes him slow down. breathe. 

when you cup his face and softly say, “can i kiss you right here?” pointing to his cheek, his grin goes all lopsided and shy. 

“why do you always ask?” he teases, nose bumping yours. 

“because you’re someone i never want to take for granted.” 

he’ll blink, then full-body tackle hug you like a golden retriever in love. “you’re my favorite human.” 

you take care of him in the little things: asking if he wants to be held, if he’s overstimulated, if he needs quiet or chaos, and he falls a little more in love every time. 

nagi seishiro

was confused at first. “you can just touch me, y’know. i’m fine with it.” 

but when you still ask every single time – "can i sit closer?" "can i touch your hair?" – he realizes something. 

you don’t do it because you think he’ll say no. you do it because you respect him. you love him with your whole heart, but never assume. 

“you’re so… careful,” he murmurs once as you gently rub lotion on his sore hands. 

“you’re important to me. and i want you to feel safe with me.” 

he didn’t even know he needed to feel safe until you made it so easy. 

now he’ll pout if you don’t ask first. “you forgot to ask,” he says, even though he’s already curled up in your lap like a sleepy cat. 

mikage reo

falls so stupidly hard for your gentle love. 

he’s used to grand gestures and flash, but your love is quiet and reverent, and it wrecks him. 

when you brush your thumb over his temple and whisper, “can i hold you for a little while?” he just nods and pulls you in like he’ll never let go. 

he’s amazed at how someone can be so kind, so considerate, and yet still make him feel absolutely cherished. 

you remember all the little things – asking before touching his hair, checking if he wants space after a stressful day – and it makes him fall in love a little harder every day. 

sometimes he’ll just stare at you and go, “you’re seriously the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

chigiri hyoma

you love him like he’s made of porcelain, and it gets him every single time. 

he acts cool about it – rolls his eyes when you ask for permission to touch his hair – but the tips of his ears go pink and he can’t stop smiling. 

after injuries and fear of fragility, your tenderness heals something deeper in him. 

“you can touch me,” he’ll whisper. “you don’t have to ask.” 

“i know,” you smile, “but i like knowing you still want me to.” 

that? that makes him blush so hard he covers his face with a pillow. 

he feels like a beloved treasure when he’s with you, and it makes his heart ache in the best way. 

kaiser michael

used to flirty, shallow affection, most times none, so your pure, patient love absolutely unravels him. 

you treat him like he’s so much more than his ego or his game. 

“can i touch your hair?” you ask, even after months together. and he just stares, like you’re something otherworldly. 

“you already know the answer,” he says, softer than he means to. 

“i want to hear it anyway.” 

you care for him like he’s someone worth loving for who he is, not what he shows, and for the first time, he believes it. 

when you hold his hand with both of yours and treat it like something precious, he suddenly forgets how to flirt. he’s just… quiet, overwhelmed, grateful. 

shidou ryusei

surprisingly receptive to your gentle love, even if he plays it off with grins and jokes. 

“asking permission? what is this, kindergarten?” he smirks. 

but the way he goes quiet when you softly say, “can i hold your hand?” gives him away. 

you’re the only person who touches him like he’s not a weapon, just a boy who wants to be held. 

sometimes, in rare moments of vulnerability, he’ll whisper, “you’re the only one who makes me feel... human.” 

and when you cradle his face like he’s something beautiful instead of dangerous, he leans into your palms like they’re the safest place on earth. 

itoshi sae

at first? he's confused. suspicious, even. 

he’s used to people either putting him on a pedestal or wanting something from him, so when you gently tuck his hair behind his ear and whisper, “can i touch you?”, he just blinks. like, actually short-circuits. 

“you’re already doing it,” he mumbles. but his voice comes out softer than he intends. 

and you just smile and say, “i still want to ask. you matter to me.” 

and that? that undoes him. 

you treat him like he’s not a prodigy, not a golden boy, but someone worth loving gently. and that’s something he didn’t know he needed. 

when you ask, “can i kiss you?” even after you've kissed him dozens of times, he’ll whisper, “yeah… but don’t stop asking.” 

he doesn’t say it outright, but he lives for the way you love him like something fragile. because sometimes, deep down, he feels like he is. 

he’ll rest his head in your lap during quiet nights, pretending to scroll on his phone. but the second you whisper, “can i play with your hair?”, his screen’s forgotten and he’s quietly nodding, eyes closing, letting himself exist in your love. 

it takes time, but eventually, he starts asking too. awkwardly. stiffly. like: “can i hold your hand?” “can i lean on you?” “can i stay over tonight?” 

all while pretending to be nonchalant, but his ears are burning, and he gets so soft when you say yes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

ness alexis

he’s so touch-starved and desperate for validation that when you treat him with gentle respect, he thinks he’s dreaming. 

you’ll brush your fingers along his arm and softly ask, “is this okay?” and he just blinks, stunned, because no one’s ever cared enough to ask. 

he says “yes” every time – quick, eager, needy – but the way you keep asking anyway? it makes his heart ache in the best way. 

“you’re so careful with me…” he murmurs one night as you tuck a blanket around his shoulders. “like i’m someone who matters.” 

“you are,” you say it simply, like it’s fact. 

and ness hides his face in your shoulder because he’s never felt so loved before.

he starts to mirror your habits – asking “can i hug you?” or “can i play with your hair?” – because you’ve made him believe love can be soft and mutual. 

niko ikki

gets really flustered at first. like, blushing to the tips of his ears when you ask, “can i hold your hand?” 

“y-you don’t need to ask,” he stammers, already squeezing your fingers. 

but when you keep doing it, every time, even for the smallest touches, he gets it. 

you don’t ask because you doubt, you ask because you respect him. and that’s what makes him fall so hard for you. 

niko’s love language becomes sitting in comfortable silence, your pinkies linked, as you glance over and softly whisper, “can i lean on you?” 

he nods every time, too stunned to speak. 

“you treat me like i’m precious,” he says one day, voice quiet. 

“you are,” you reply, just as gently, and niko short-circuits on the spot. 

hiori yo

oh, you destroy him (in the softest way possible). 

he’s always been scared of getting too close, of being a burden. but then you come along – so patient, so kind – and ask, “is this okay?” before every hug, every kiss, every forehead touch. 

and hiori just… melts. fully, completely, beautifully. 

you cup his face with both hands and ask, “can i hold you like this?” and he’s already nodding, eyes glossy with emotion. 

you ask him if he’s okay when he zones out. you check if he wants to be alone or held. you don’t assume, you care. 

“you make me feel safe,” he confesses one night, voice barely a whisper. “like… no one’s ever done that before.” 

you brush your thumb under his eye, smiling softly. “you deserve to be loved that way.” 

and hiori hugs you tighter than he ever has before, like he never wants to let go. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[todosdream]

icarus | ony

14.2k wrds. fem black reader. plot w/ smut. MDNI!!!

warnings: established d/s relationship, daddy dom!ony and sub!reader, bratty!reader, reader’s a lil shit, cursing, weed mentioned, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (BE SAFE), hard dom!ony so he’s a meanie, pet names, degradation, ony and that heavenly bbc, ony’s an ass man, choking, spitting, a couple LIGHT slaps, spanking, bossy!ony, dacryphilia, overstimulation, ony gives great aftercare

moodboard.

original request by @rnvsxo. this took wayyy too long and I do apologize. thanks for requesting, pookie!

you love your man. literally wouldn’t change a thing about him.

seemingly rough around the edges, he’s actually just a big goofball and teddy bear all wrapped up in one man. yes, he’s tall and burly and covered in tattoos, but he can also be quite the idiot when he’s comfortable.

he values you deeply and shows that with every action. he’s always talking to and about you with deep reverence. he’s intentional and protective and just all around what you’ve always wanted out of a partner. he’s always focused on making sure you feel good with him. whether you’re by his side, under him, on top of him… his focus is making sure his princess is taken care of in all ways. free to be yourself, always secure and held down by your daddy.

he’s always so gentle. large and calloused, veiny hands softly caress, strong arms wrap around you protectively, words always praising and loving. you love that shit. you love him.

even with his sometimes cocky self, his penchant for being overprotective as hell, and his yelling at the tv when he games or watches some sport... even with his funky feet after working out and tendency to hold you captive in the mornings when you have to use the restroom really fucking bad… you just can’t help but love him, stinky toes and all. he’s your person and there’s no doubt about that.

but sometimes…

sometimes you need more. something different.

sometimes you want him to just wreck you.

like, c’mon. the man looks like he can literally throw you a good distance. his muscles bulge so attractively when he works out, and he looks so damn fine when his brow is furrowed with strain. the grunts, the harsh breaths… it takes your breath away. when he scoops you up in his arms like you don’t weigh anything– which you absolutely do– you get flashes of what it’d be like for him to just manhandle you. rough you up a bit.

is that toxic?

possibly, you think. but you can’t help but feel that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with desiring aggression from him, especially considering how safe you feel in his arms. you know that no matter what goes down in the bedroom, he loves and respects the fuck outta you. he’d never hurt his girl. that’s no question.

it seems like he’s almost afraid of it, though. whenever he finds himself particularly angry or frustrated, he demands space. he doesn’t want his words to sting and he refuses to treat you with anything less than complete respect. even when you poke and prod, tease a desire for rougher treatment, he’s quick to shut it down.

“nah, baby, you’re my princess. I ain’t doin’ you like that.”

too bad you want to be done like that. real bad, actually.

you want his hands gripping you hair or your throat, you want those big arms and rough hands holding you to him, you want his words to be firm and aggressive, that deep timbre winded with exertion. you think about it a lot. hell, you’ve even dreamed about it, subsequently waking up to make a mess of the soft sheets he buys for your sensitive skin.

it actually pisses you off. he gives you everything you want, so why not indulge your fantasies? you crave it. you’d beg for it if you knew it’d affect him, but he doesn’t even like it when you beg!

“princesses don’t beg, mama. daddy’s always gonna give you exactly what you need. you should never have to.”

it’s like wanting a deep tissue massage but the masseuse is too afraid of hurting you, or wanting extra spicy wings but only getting medium. there’s a time and a place for both, but he’s always straying on the side of caution. like, damn! you’re not going to break. you can take that shit, whatever he has to offer. you’re not asking for him to throw you off a damn cliff. even just a hand around the throat here, a harsh smack on the ass there, just a sprinkle of degradation would help. if he can’t go hard, he can be just a little bit mean!

it’s getting to be too much. it’s an itch that he refuses to scratch. you’re stubborn, you’re determined, and you’re creative.

and maybe, just maybe, a little deprived.

okay, a lot deprived.

it’s not your fault! he says you can get whatever you want, but refuses to indulge in something that you’ve grown to want the most. you’ve asked directly and pleaded and hinted, everything you can within the realm of healthy communication. call you spoiled, but you’re going to get what you want, especially because you know no matter what he says, he wants that shit too.

you see how he holds back, how he strains. you know he wants to smack that ass and snatch you up. you know he wants to correct you with more than just a warning tone, especially when you’re being particularly bratty. he wants to push you up against that damn wall, be mean, talk to you crazy just because he can and because you like it.

you see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. you see it in the way his eyes squint and how his hands grip just a little bit tighter. sometimes he looks at you like a man starved and you expect him to just break, but he never does.

he’s holding back, has been the entire time, and you hate it. it’s unfair. though you understand where he’s coming from, you need him to understand your perspective.

he just needs a little… push.

so you’re gonna shove his ass.

you’re going to a party tonight, an anime themed shindig that you’ve both really been looking forward to. you’ve got the matching outfits; you’re dressing as a fem luffy and him zoro. it’s the show you’ve been watching together to fill the time; while you smoke, while you clean, right before bed after he’s made you come for the nth time. so what’s a better couple costume than a captain and her first mate?

you already know you’ll get a lot of attention for how you’re dressed and who you’re dressed as. you’ll be taking full advantage of luffy’s personality: outgoing, comfortable with people, touchy. you’re intending to tug on every nerve of the bearded man that you can.

the plan is to tease, tease, tease until he just can’t take it. you believe with full confidence that you can take whatever he dishes out. if you can tap dance on those nerves of his enough to get him to lessen his inhibitions, you’ll absolutely fucking show him that.

and you have a feeling it’s going to work real well.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ony’s happy.

he loves you, he loves your relationship, and he loves taking care of his princess.

he loves seeing how free you feel around him, unlimited in his protective presence. his pretty lady, spreading her wings and being her full self. sensitive, sweet, bratty, nasty. you’ve told him more times than he can count how refreshing and new it is to be in a space that allows you to fully express and explore yourself. you know he wouldn’t judge or hurt or diminish anything you’re feeling.

that just makes him all the more overprotective. you’re capable, more than, but he’s constantly looking out for you because that’s his job as your man. you’ve trusted him with everything and he doesn’t take that shit lightly. he never wants to see you sad or crying, hates when you’re upset, and would take down anybody that puts so much as a pout on that face of yours. he’s your safe place to land, your shoulder to cry on, a man that will do anything to never let you down.

so how in the fuck could he ever do or say anything to hurt you?

you’re too damn pretty to talk to any kind of way, too special to him. he’d never risk it, he couldn’t.

it sucks to look you in your eyes and tell you no, it honestly doesn’t even feel right in his fucking soul. he can do many, many things for you. he’ll eat you out just for the fun of it, tongue tracing his name on that pretty clit. he’ll slide into his bathroom at work just to talk you through your nut when you’re extra needy.

he’ll be just about anything for you. coddling? yea. overprotective? hell yea.

mean?

absolutely the fuck not.

he’s a big man and he really just doesn’t know his strength. sometimes he doesn’t realize just how strong his hold is on something until it breaks. he’ll be watching a game, on the edge of his seat and yelling at the tv, and suddenly— oops. cup’s broken. he’ll do normal reps at the gym, something slight for a warm up, and walk away from the machine just to hear, ”damn, who the fuck was lifting this??”

his mouth can get real reckless, also. he knows that when he’s angry or upset, his words bite. he wasn’t always as level headed, didn’t always count to ten before reacting to whatever. he used to talk first and think later, say what he wanted and bring down a few egos. as a man, he’s learned that his aggression can be dangerous and should be dealt with appropriately.

that’s why he just can’t bring himself to be aggressive with you. it’s his mission to tend to you, care for you, take care of the parts of you that no one else will ever see. you trust him in so many ways and he knows all of it’s foreign to you. he’d damn near kill someone just for making you break a nail, so if he hurt you… he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

however…

that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the desire to get a little rough with you.

he thinks about it a lot. what it’d be like to just… grab you. he wonders if you could take him, all of him. the rough and aggressive him. the him that would snatch you up without a second thought, make you ride him until you collapse. the him that he usually keeps very separate from his woman.

he’d do so many things to you if he let himself. he knows you say you can take it, but can you really?

would you still be fully comfortable in subspace if he was aggressive with you? would you still let those walls down, be his sweet and sensitive girl if he gagged you? bound you? or would it affect you in ways you’re not fully prepared for?

to be frank, you talk a lot of shit that you just can’t back up. you’ll run that pretty little mouth, teases on your tongue, just to be putty in his hands minutes later, or pouting at him with hurt feelings because he raised his voice even just a smidgen.

he won’t risk it.

it doesn’t matter if he wants to shove that pretty face in his mattress and tear that ass up. it doesn’t matter if he wants to make you cum more times than you think you ever could, overwhelm you with the pleasure your eyes beg for. and it definitely doesn’t matter that he wants to grab you by the neck and make you breathless, just to let you go and do it all over again.

it doesn’t matter.

you’re his baby, and he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“baby, you ready?” ony calls from the bedroom. “just a sec, pooks!” you call back. you take a moment to check yourself over in the mirror, wanting to be sure that you’re as tempting as you feel.

you’re dressed in luffy’s beast pirate outfit with a sultry feminine twist, the crop top you’re wearing keeping you from showing too much skin and shorts accentuating your form. your makeup is done to perfection, highlighting your features, and you have a straw hat resting on your back to make room for the red horns sticking out of your head of curls.

the irony of said horns is not lost on you by any means.

you used makeup to recreate the scars on his face and chest, and your skin is glowing from the scented shea butter you rubbed on your body; ony’s favorite tantalizing scent, of course. you paired it with a matching perfume just to give it an extra oomph.

with an accomplished sigh, you lock eyes with your reflection, your lips curling into a devilish little smile. you look fucking good and you smell edible. whatever happens tonight will be well deserved.

you step out of the bathroom, fully planning to give your boyfriend a tease of a show to start your plan, only to stop when you see him.

he looks downright sinful.

he’s wearing zoro’s beast pirate outfit to match yours. he’s bare of a shirt, just zoro’s signature green haramaki sash and dark green pants. his hair is tinted green from the hair wax you bought for him and he’s moisturized to a t, his dark skin glowing and tattoos looking more than lickable. his muscles are on display, accented with the harness strapped across his chest, and it takes everything in you not to just melt to the floor and suck the soul out of him right then and there, plans be damned.

“fuck, ony. you look good,” you bite your lip as your eyes trail over him. your mind is playing over the different positions you hope to be in tonight... “not fair,” you murmur.

he chuckles, focused on his phone and tapping away as he texts eren where the group will meet. “thank you, princess. don’t forget you have to do my scars. I can’t say I’m zoro without the–“ he cuts himself as he looks up at you, eyebrows raising.

his eyes trail up and down your figure, taking in the shape of your body with the form fitting clothes. you look good as hell, no surprise there. skin showing, curves accentuated, standing confident and looking like you should be on your back and spread out for him. he licks his lips and tosses his phone onto the bed before taking a few steps towards you. “…gahhh damn, baby,” he drags out.

his hands meet your hips, one trailing down to feel the smooth skin of your thigh. “shit. princess, you look fuckin’ amazing. I’ma be fightin’ niggas all night. hell,” he murmurs deep.

his gaze is hot, warming your body with his obvious attraction to you. you’re glad he loves it, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel real good. you bite the inside of your cheek as your hands trail up his torso to his chest. “damn yourself,” you mumble back. “I look good for me and for you, daddy. you know that.”

that makes him twitch in his pants. you always know just what to say to rile him up, and it’s both invigorating and irritating. he chuckles lowly and hooks his finger through the belt loop on your side, quickly turning you to press your ass up against his pelvis. his hands trail up your sides and to your chest, giving a light squeeze as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw from behind.

“mmm, fine as fuck, baby. you did so good with your outfit, maybe a little too good. I’m so tempted to just…” he leads off, hands teasingly inching towards the button of your pants. your stomach jolts, arousal ticking at his touch and voice in your ear. damn him and his deep sandalwood cologne, the ease in which he affects your body.

you gotta stay focused.

your hands find his, lightly gripping them and slowly sliding them back to your hips. it hurts to do, and your fluttering stomach isn’t helping. “nuh uh, pa, we’ve been looking forward to this for too long. sit and let me finish those scars.”

that’s interesting, to say the least. “hmm?” he hums, gripping your hips a bit, surprised at the denial. that’s not usual for you as it doesn’t take much for you to melt at his touch. it’s often him talking you down, not the other way around. there have been many events y’all have shown up to late because some touches got a bit too heated.

he’s still pressing kisses up your jaw, slow and steady. “you tellin’ me to behave? hell gotta be unusually cold.” you can’t help but laugh at that. he’s got a smart ass mouth, and you wonder what he’ll be saying by the end of the night. “I’m just excited. we look good as hell and we definitely have to take some pictures and tiktoks. put that away,” you say, patting near but not directly on the front of his pants, “and sit down.”

he hums again, eyebrow twitching with restraint. that was a low move, you know how much he loves your hands on him. touching, feeling, soothing… he just chalks it up to your touchy nature, though. he supposes you’re right, you did your thing making the costumes and the least he can do is keep his hands to himself for now. “mhm… whatever you say, captain,” he mumbles lowly.

incorrect. if it was whatever you say, you wouldn’t have to stage such a scheme.

“let me go get my makeup stuff,” you call as you walk back to the bathroom. ony plops onto the bed in waiting. when you come back, you lightly press your hand against his bare chest to direct him to lay on the bed. his eyebrows raise but he doesn’t say anything until you crawl on top of him and straddle his waist.

“‘scuse me?” he grumbles, his hands finding their place on your hips. “all this ain’t even needed.” you’ve never had to do anything like this for him before, but surely it’s not necessary for you to be pressed up against his groin like this. ain’t no way.

you roll your eyes, fully leaning into it. “relax. you’re too tall and this angle is better. now be still,” you mumble, starting to grab your brushes for the eye scar first. “close em.”

he huffs as he closes his eyes, hands inching just slightly to caress your butt as you work. your scent wafts over him as you take your time, making sure to set it properly in case he sweats throughout the night.

once the eye is done, you shuffle down his body to get to work on his next scar, not so accidentally brushing up against him as you unbuckle the harness on his chest.

“• ᥫ᭡ •” he grumbles your name. it’s a warning tone, not unlike what you’ve heard before.

“shhh.” you hush. “I’m focusing. the artist is at work.”

your tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, trying to make the scar look as realistic as possible with your meager tools. your hands lightly brush his abdomen and chest, fixing small mistakes and adding detail.

he lets out a breath, looking up to distract himself.

“you almost done? teasin’ ass.”

“hush, pa. you simply can’t rush perfection. and stop breathing so heavy.”

“s’your fuckin’ fault, princess. all up on me like this. you must want some dick before we leave or somethin’.”

“hush! your gutter brained self. don’t you usually have more self control?”

he let’s out another huff as he closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but your hands on him. it’s damn near impossible. “sorry, baby,” he murmurs. he tries to keep his mind clear, think about ordering the uber and whatever else is needed to ensure a good time tonight.

he should make sure you eat and drink some water… and do the same for himself. you’re both late so everyone else should already be there. what else…

after adding the finishing touches, you lean to press a tender kiss to his abs, looking up at him with slightly doed eyes. he stops his train of thought, gaze immediately shooting down to watch you, eyebrow twitching and mind filling with the raunchiest thoughts.

this angle, those lips, the way your hands rest on his skin… he sees a slight twinkle in your eye and he gets a feeling tonight's going to be a long one.

“you doin’ this shit on purpose,” he almost groans. you’re just inches away from where he wants you. if you really wanted him to cool off, you wouldn’t keep doing what you know gets him going.

you roll your eyes again and pat his abdomen a couple times before sitting up and looking at your handiwork. the scar on his eye is quite simple, but the one on his chest actually looks good and detailed. shoutout youtube. a few inches below the chest scar lies your lip print, matching the lipstick you applied earlier.

“oh, relax, would you? just marking my territory. they’re gonna try to eat you up, and I refuse to let them get their grubby little hands on you. I’m all done,” you say casually, as if your possessive words won’t get a rise out of him. he squints, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. you can be quite the tease, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. he won’t call you on your shit just yet.

brat.

“whatever you want, mama.”

mhm, it sure will be. you’re determined to make that your reality.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

after many tiktoks and accidental brushes and some pregaming with eye contact a lil too much on the lustful side, you both climb into the uber. ony holds the door for you as always and joins you in the back.

the uber driver is possibly in her thirties and doesn’t speak aside from the normal greeting. the music is low and a bit boring, and she just can’t seem to keep her eyes off the mirror, taking in the obvious eye candy that is onyankopon.

on one hand, you can’t blame her. as always, he looks fine as shit doing absolutely nothing. muscles all on display, tattoos glistening with his moisturized skin, hair and beard trimmed to perfection. he’d catch the eye of damn near any seeing person, so you get it. you do.

but on the other hand, it makes your nose scrunch. yeah, he’s fine, but he’s also quite obviously yours with the way the two of you are sitting together, his arm over your shoulder and hand resting over yours.

he’s quiet but touchy. it doesn’t seem to be enough for the driver to stop stealing glances.

without another thought, you reach over and grab his chin, fingers tickled by his beard. his gaze leaves the window to look at you, but you’re already leaning out of view. leaning to press a kiss on the column of his neck. another on the sweet spot right at the end of his jaw, but this time you lightly suck on his skin, your tongue tracing against his pulse just slightly so.

soft and simple, but the action speaks louder than anything. the woman’s eyes meet the road and don’t part from it again.

and ony’s sitting at attention.

he licks his lips, watching as you sit straight. your eyes meet his, low-lidded and almost prideful. he knows what that was, he’s not stupid. the drinks have you going, if your gaze is anything to go by. you’ve already been a problem tonight, and he prays for relief from the way he’s already pressing up against his pants.

when you both arrive at the venue, you can hear distant calls of “ayeee, luffy!” and “damn, zoro got lost again!” it makes you grin cheesily and give a silly wave as you drag ony to the bar.

you seem undisturbed, but ony’s struggling. he hasn’t been able to calm down since the beginning of the night and it’s barely even started. he works his jaw, trying to diminish that ache he’s feeling in his gut. he doesn’t know what’s going on with you, maybe you’re feeling a way, but he likes it. it’s just… hard.

he focuses his mind instead on keeping you safe. there’s a lot of people here and it’s his mission for the night to make sure you have a good time without any mishaps, especially on his end.

“you gonna drink some more, baby?” you ask, fluttering your lashes up at him. you know his mind can get nasty when the liquor hits him, and you’re going to make sure it hits good.

those fluttering lashes make him feel another tug in his gut. you’re looking up, capturing him with those eyes, and he can’t help but think of them rolling back, back, back…

“just a bit, sweet girl. gotta keep an eye out for you,” he smiles down at you.

fuck, you’re so pretty. he’d do just about anything for you when you look up at him like that. your lower lip juts out in response and he feels himself twitch in his pants again.

yeah. long night for sure.

“I want you to have fun too, daddy,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck. “you don’t have to worry about me.”

oh, you’re wrong for calling him that right here and now. he licks his lips, gazing down at you. he sees that twinkle in your eyes again and sees how your smile is almost too sickeningly sweet.

ony’s arms wrap around you and bring you close as the people at the bar start to get rowdy with the next song playing. the adjustment takes him out of it just enough for him to refocus. “I know, baby, but let daddy worry. keeps you safe,” he answers, tapping your ass a couple of times before turning to the bartender to call out his order.

you hum to yourself. you were hoping for a bigger reaction to that… he turns to you again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “you drank that water I gave you, right?”

you roll your eyes but nod, “and ate so there’s something on my stomach. you already asked me all this, I’m fine.” he’s always like this, though you appreciate it. he keeps track of your drinks and makes sure you hydrate like a doting daddy dom should, and you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about it. all you have to focus on is having fun.

and you’re definitely focused on that.

you let out a small yelp when you feel a pinch on your butt. “attitude. you’ve rolled your eyes at me three times now. fix it, • ᥫ᭡ • ,” he corrects. he’s speaking directly in your ear, sending a slight shiver through your body.

you hadn’t even realised he was keeping count. you nibble on your bottom lip in response and nod. god, you love it when he gets like that. shit makes you tingle. “sorry. won’t do it again.”

“mhm,” ony only hums in response. he can make your eyes roll if you really want to play like that…

no, he needs to focus.

more drinks are had and you’re feeling good. ony can see it in your eyes, can feel it in your touch. drinking makes you extra touchy, especially on nights like tonight, and your words and glances are becoming more teasing by the minute.

“c’mon, love, let’s find the group,” ony says in your ear as he grabs your hand. you feel another chill travel down at the way his lips tickle the skin of your earlobe. “don’t let go of me.”

he guides you through the crowd of assorted cosplays, hand wrapped securely around yours, and it’s almost like a movie scene with the music playing and the sight of him just being him.

he’s just so fine it makes you want to jump his bones. the back muscles on this man…

he’s guiding you easily, no one able to ignore his towering stature as he pushes through. his eyes are trained ahead of you, but he’s holding you securely, thumb lightly tracing on your skin in a soothing gesture…

it’s reassuring, soft, all that you’re used to. you imagine that hand wrapped around your neck, seeing flashes of him grabbing and taking without restraint.

the plan.

right, the plan.

he peeks back at you just to check that you're good, catching sight of how your eyes trail over his figure. he shakes his head with a small smirk as he looks ahead and weaves through the crowd. his princess is just as enamored with him as he is you. it takes a lot out of him to keep from turning around to kiss those lips.

he catches sight of a familiar looking buzzed head over the crowd, his height always an advantage. “yo, con!” he calls.

the shorter man whips around, almost losing his balance as he greets the two of you. he’s wearing an orange and black volleyball jersey with the number five on it, a lazy but fitting cosplay of tanaka from haikyuu. he’s grinning widely, obviously well beyond drunk, and his arm is around his newest flavor of the month.

as you laugh at his antics and chat, ony wraps his arm around your waist. he presses you up against his side as someone squeezes past you, always vigilant of the surrounding space to ensure your safety. you hadn’t even realized someone was trying to pass. it makes your lashes flutter up at him momentarily. you hum a small sound of surprise, the sound tainted with intrigue.

he can feel your eyes and it makes him warm. there’s a tension building that feels just slightly unfamiliar, a spark in your eye that’s just… different.

the four of you chat before connie leads you all to the rest of the group, located in a reserved section.

when you reach them, the both of you are welcomed with cheers. you do a cute little spin as the girls begin to compliment your outfit, shaking your ass as you stick your tongue out playfully. you’re definitely feeling those drinks, and ony can feel his mind starting to stray again.

ony holds your hand as you move, licking his lips as he acts as an anchor for you. he wants to reach around and give that ass a nice smack, hype you up because his baby definitely knows how to throw some. he has to hold back and just grin, else he loses his manners and takes you right then and there.

you’re hypnotizing him. tempting him.

he controls himself. he can tell you’re feeling good, and that’s all he wants.

but damn your ass moves like fucking water, he realizes for the umpteenth time. it’s hard to look away, almost impossible. side to side, in a circle… shit. what was he thinking about again? something about staying focused…

his thoughts are interrupted by voices of a few others from nearby as they join in on the cheering. one girl in particular calls out ‘she throwin’ that pirate booty!’ and that seems to pique the interest of more in the area.

ony’s eyebrow twitches.

“not too much, now,” he grumbles, pulling you back to his side. you just laugh and lean up against him again, your chest pressing against him. his eyes flicker downwards for a moment, catching sight of how you look in that position.

maybe just a quick trip to the bathroom… no, he shouldn’t.

he wants to, though. wonders if you’d care about anyone hearing your sounds or if you’d just let them out like a good girl. he can see you, spread out before him, moaning and fucked out while he fulfills his fantasy of fucking you like a slut.

his gaze flicks back up to your eyes. you smile and tilt your head slightly. as if you know how much he’s struggling and you find joy in it.

and you do. you can see it in his eyes, that desire. he’s buzzed, though he doesn’t really show it. his eyes are a bit distant, and you can tell his mind is filled with those thoughts you crave for him to act on. he’s not looking at you like his princess right now and you want him to step out on that.

he’s saved, once again. if there’s one thing sasha can’t do, it’s read a room.

you have to keep from rolling your eyes as she starts on about how grateful she is for everyone being together, ever the sentimental drunk. you love her down, but this happens every time she gets even a sip of liquor.

she demands pictures for memories, something about scrapbooking and showing the kids in the future, before she asks a random person to act as photographer. everyone lines up best they can, choosing their best angles. ony sticks close to you, hands almost glued to your ass. picture after picture, silly photos and serious photos. soon complaints start flying at sasha’s demands for different poses.

the group is able to break free after a few more pictures, and soon everyone is chatting, dancing, and vibing. it really is a nice party, definitely worth the hype, and worth the wait as well. most went all out on their outfits, the dj knows what the hell she’s doing, and the amount of wallflowers is surprisingly low.

the group is having a lot of fun, which isn’t exactly surprising as you all can have fun anywhere, especially with the drinks flowing. there’s so much laughing, so many candid photos that’ll be saved and used as blackmail… but no matter how much fun is going down, you’re still distracted by every move your man makes. it’s the same for him too.

his hands don’t leave you for longer than a minute. he’s constantly touching, caressing, looking at you like he wants to do any number of things to you, and you’re right there with him. whispering in his ear, pressing up against him, giving him those eyes. your friends are side eyeing and laughing, knowing that you both will probably be “excusing” yourselves soon.

it feels like it’s just the two of you, glued to each other as you both dance the night away, parting only for more drinks. you do moves that ony’s never seen you do before, guiding his hands all over you and looking him in the eye as a silent message of ”this is all yours”.

but despite everything, he hasn’t broken yet, no matter how close he’s come time and time again. it’s frustrating to you from the outside looking in. his self control is astounding to an irritating degree and it’s you who’s starting to get worked up beyond the point of return.

but ony’s definitely on the brink.

“fuck. drivin’ me crazy,” he groans, head falling to rest against your shoulder. he’s not sure how he’s still standing. he should’ve taken you home so long ago with the way you keep tempting him like he won’t do anything about it. “you look so fuckin’ good. keep doin’ yo’ shit, ma.”

“yeah?” you ask, reaching back to pull him close. his ear is by your mouth, so you press a kiss to his skin, tongue darting out to tease. it sends a chill down ony’s spine and straight to his dick.

“yeah, baby. too damn perfect,” he breathes out. he runs the tip of his nose up your neck, that damn scent making him want to devour you. he’s gripping you tighter, breathing you in deep.

you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. you laugh, turning in his arms to hook your own around his neck. “and all yours, yeah?” his hands slide down to your bum, giving a nice squeeze.

“all fuckin’ mine,” he murmurs, eyes low as his gaze meets yours.

you nibble on your lip. he just looks so good… the look in his eyes, the way he’s gazing at you like he could take you up against the wall right now has you flooding your underwear. it’s almost too much and the way his hands squeeze and pull you closer like you weigh nothing is only making it worse.

you don’t know what possesses you to say what you say next, maybe it’s the alcohol or the audacity or the combination of both, but you pull him closer by his nape and whisper in his ear.

“so why do you keep fucking me like you’re scared?”

ony pauses.

he must be hearing things. maybe the music is too loud or you mixed up your words because there’s no way you just said that shit.

it’s almost like you can feel the temperature drop.

“repeat that,” he grumbles assertively. you shudder just slightly at his cold tone, but you don’t falter.

“you heard me,” you shrug. “you fuck like you’re scared. you shouldn’t be surprised to hear that.” and you really think he shouldn’t. isn’t this what it’s all been about? his fear of hurting you? it’s not a lie. he is scared.

but it’s all in your delivery. you’re making him sound like a punk and he doesn’t like that.

he doesn’t like how you’re shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he doesn’t like how you’re disrespecting your daddy, and he definitely doesn’t like how you seem to think you’re on some type of higher ground.

“come to the bathroom real quick,” he mumbles. he grabs your wrist— firm, not tight— and starts to guide you.

you smile and bite your lip as he tugs you forward. “did I say something wrong?” you ask, your voice a slight purr as you press yourself against him. one of your hands trails up his arm, sending tingles up his skin and down to his hopefully well hidden hard on. your touch is slow and teasing, and your nails scratch him just enough, the way you know he likes.

you wish you could use your tongue instead, trace those tattoos all the way to that third leg of his. have him looking down at you and calling you just what you are— pretty, desperate, nasty. just for him.

he looks down at you with a raised brow, almost irritated with the way he keeps fucking twitching in his pants and definitely irritated with whatever the fuck you have going on. “chill.”

ony’s jaw is set at your touch as he continues walking. your gaze, your hands, your teasing… it’s all too much. he doesn’t know what it is, the tequila maybe?

no, you’ve been on one all fucking night.

he doesn’t get it, but it’s gotten to him. he wonders if it would really be that bad if he bent you over in the stall and just…

the two of you finally find a family bathroom towards the back of the venue. ony holds the door open for you, follows you inside, and locks the door behind him.

“you upset or somethin—“

“what’s goin’ on with you? huh?” he grumbles out, hooking his finger through your harness and pulling you against him. you gasp as your hands fly to rest on his shoulders for balance.

“what—“ you try to speak, only to be interrupted by him again. his tone is stern, no room for bullshit. he’s been tempted and teased and drawn to an edge he hasn’t had to endure with you before.

“don’t even try to play wit’ me. whatchu doin’?” he asks.

you swallow, looking up at him and taking in his unfamiliar demeanor. his eyes are serious, eyebrows pinched in an irritated frown that makes your knees weak. “I’m not- I just wanted to have fun tonight, that’s all,” you answer.

his eyebrow twitches and he takes a moment to take a breath, staring you down. “that’s all,” he repeats dully.

and then his hand slides up from your harness, wrapping around your jaw as the other grips your hip. he holds your face in place firmly, bending slightly to hover above you. the look in his eyes… your heart is racing and he can probably feel your pulse, but something else is pulsing between your legs.

“you think I’m stupid? that what you think?” he asks. his voice is almost soft, but not in the tender way you’re used to. “I’ma be nice and give you a second chance cause I love yo’ ass. don’t lie to my face again.”

despite the obvious predicament, you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. this is what you wanted, what you asked for, what you knew he wanted and it feels so damn good. just like you knew it would.

“trying to get you to stop holding back,” you mumble truthfully.

he pauses again.

you’ve gotta be fucking kidding. here he is trying to have a good night with his girl, keeping an eye on you so that you can have a fun ass time without worry, and the whole time you’ve been playing little games.

ony hates games.

“that’s why you been out here like this the whole fuckin’ night?” he asks in a grumble, his hand tightening its grip just slightly. “pushin’ up on me, teasin me, actin’ like I don’t love you and give you everything, being a damn brat? my good girl? can’t be. you know better than that, ain’t never done shit like that.”

your breath hitches, but you keep going. “you don’t get it,” you speak up. “the fact that I had to do this in the first place is your fault. I asked and tried to talk, but you weren’t listening!”

“watch yo’ tone,” he immediately mumbles. his hand slides down from your jaw to your neck and gives a squeeze.

a reminder. he can only allow so much.

you roll your eyes. “you have to admit I’m right!” you stubbornly press. this is your chance to air your grievances, you have to get it all out. “you want this, I know you do. you hold back too much and it’s not fair. if you ever found out I wasn’t all in, you’d be upset just like me! I don’t understand why you can’t just—“

you’re interrupted by his lips as he kisses you. really kisses you.

it’s not the usual slow and sensual kiss, the ones packed with love and intention. it’s messy and rushed, his hand sliding from your hip to the curls at your nape and gripping. your eyes roll back just slightly at the feeling. it’s overpowering, it’s knee-weakening, it’s raw. it’s everything you wanted.

he controls the kiss, he bites, and his hand never leaves your neck. you don’t even realize that you’re moving back and back until you’re pressed up against the wall, closed in by his larger frame.

he pulls back, holding you in place by your hair. this is what you’ve been craving, and it’s so delectable now that you’re getting it. it’s a whole new ony, rough and demanding in his movements. you’re just about putty in his hands.

“damn,” you breathe out, trying to gather yourself.

it’s ridiculous. ony blames himself for his regretful decision of controlling his more aggressive urges. you obviously want it more than he thought, need it if your brattiness is any indication.

the fact that you’d go so far as to play him, try to control him? it’s pissing him off. you’re a good girl. this isn’t what you do.

he’s got something for your ass.

“we’re going home,” he grumbles lowly.

and home you go.

the two of you leave the bathroom, ony’s back tense as he leads and weaves through the crowd. a particular group won’t move even after a couple of excuse me’s from him. they just look at him and then away dismissively as if they’re not blocking the walkway. rude as fuck, to be honest.

ony raises his voice with a lift of his eyebrows. he doesn’t have time for this. “I know y’all fuckin’ heard me. move,” he demands. the looks you receive in return are hilarious, looking a mix of offended, humbled, and maybe a little afraid. the group starts stepping to the side as ony stares them down.

it’s such a fucking turn on.

the journey outside is all a blur. ony hasn’t said a single word to you. he said farewells to the group and guided you to the uber. his touches haven’t stopped, but his gaze is set on the window. his jaw is tight and his grip on you is firm.

the uber back is quiet. the driver has a car on the smaller side, so ony’s almost to the point of having to scrunch himself just to fit. he knew he should’ve ordered a different one, but it would’ve taken too long. he’s sitting leaned against the window, his long legs to the side for comfort because they wouldn’t fit otherwise.

your legs are almost thrown over his. one of his arms is wrapped around your shoulder and the other hand is wrapped around your ankle, thumb lightly tracing over the anklet he bought you.

you’re sitting, fiddling with your fingers.

you’re excited. you’re going to get what you want, what you’ve been needing, and you can say that the night is going according to plan. maybe even better. you have no idea what the night entails, but you’re looking forward to every moment.

the tension is so delicious. the look in his eye, the way he kissed you… you’ve never seen him like this, felt him like this. it’s invigorating and it’s hard to feel bad for your antics. you tried to talk, you did. but tonight happened and apparently it was needed.

there’s just… an inkling, a very small one, that says you have no idea what you’re about to go through.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

visual. visual. visual. visual.

ony crosses his arms as he looks at you, admiring your form and your nerve. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, bare just for him, eyes holding a glint of smugness as you look up.

you’re proud of yourself, ego probably on ten. you don’t even have the decency to look apologetic. instead you’re watching, waiting like you’re entitled to a treat after your little game. your bratty, irritating game of pushing a man who isn’t usually pushed.

his sweet girl… not even aware of the consequences you’re about to endure. he has ways of humbling you. since you’ve been acting how you’re acting, he’ll give you exactly what it is your ass wants.

your gaze trails over his form and he just stands there letting you watch for a moment. his muscles bulge, his chest and arms on display. he’s got that stone face that’s never been directed to you, his tight jaw and twitching eyebrow the only indication of how he’s feeling.

“• ᥫ᭡ •,” he says lowly, getting your attention. your eyes meet his, your breath hitching. his eyes flicker over you again and you can just feel the tension thick in the air. his gaze holds so much fire, body tense and mind obviously racing.

it feels almost illegal to speak up, like the wrong words will set him off and make him snap. that’s what you’ve wanted, of course, but the atmosphere is much different when you’re actually in it. “yes?” you ask quietly. he’s silent for a moment, and then he speaks up.

“I hope you can handle what I’ma do to yo’ lil ass tonight.”

that makes your stomach jump as you nibble on your bottom lip. you sit there for a moment, a mix of excitement and arousal coursing through you. just what’s going to go down? this is uncharted territory. you don’t know what to expect.

you know one thing, though.

you won.

“I can, daddy,” you murmur softly, eyes so pretty as they look up at him. you look so sweet, like you didn’t toy with him like a fucking yo-yo tonight. he’ll make sure to do the same with you since you’re so needy for it.

“mhm, sure,” he grumbles dismissively. you don’t know shit about how he can get because you’ve never seen it. pride is a muhfucka. he reaches down and hooks a finger under your chin, lifting it. his touch makes your skin tingle. “remind me of your safeword, babygirl,” he says.

you clear your throat. “um- pineapple,” you answer.

“and your colors?”

“green is keep going, yellow is slow down or pause, red is stop,” you recite.

“good girl,” he mumbles, looking down at you. he’s still watching you like a hawk. the angle is everything. you’re fighting the urge to reach and run a hand up his abdomen, follow your touch with your tongue. something tells you touching isn’t a great idea at the moment though.

“you have to tell me if I say or do anything, anything that makes you feel some type of way. promise me, baby,” he presses. he lightly trails his thumb over your cheek, looking down at you with clouded eyes.

his voice gives you goosebumps. it’s a mix of commanding and gentle, and you feel as though this is the last sliver of tenderness you’ll see before you get your sense fucked out of you. “I promise, daddy,” you nod.

“good girl,” he rasps. he really hopes you listen because he won’t be holding back, per your request. it’s about to get really tough for you, and you did it to yourself.

his hand moves down, wrapping around your neck in a pressing grip. you feel your stomach jolt and you lick your lips as you stare up into his eyes, watching the tenderness shift just as quickly as it appeared.

“you know I’m pissed the fuck off, right?” he frowns. his eyebrows pinch together and his hand tightens around your neck. “scared,” he states. “I fuck you like I’m scared. that’s what you said.”

his voice is rough, an insight to how the night will be, and his gaze is burning. maybe you shouldn’t have said that… but it’s landed you right where you want to be. you swallow and start to answer respond, but he interrupts you. there’s nothing you could say right now to calm him down.

“nah, don’t even say shit, just gone piss me off even more,” he scoffs, his hand squeezing your neck. he steps closer, standing between your legs now. “you got a lot of fuckin’ nerve, baby. that’s okay. daddy’s gonna get you straight.”

in a flash, you’re pulled up to your feet and damn near dropped onto the ground. you let out a soft ’oof’ as you land on your knees, ony holding you by your arms. it’s so unlike him that you’re blinking in shock.

“look at me, lil girl,” he grunts, his hand sliding into your curls to grip them and tug you to look up at him. your eyebrows furrow— you’re grown, nowhere near little, but the look on his face keeps you from saying anything.

“what, youn like that? don’t like hearin’ bout yourself?” he grumbles, eyebrows pinching as he notices your shift in expression. he couldn’t care less. you were acting childish, playing your games and pushing him to do you like this.

you frown in response, feeling an attitude coming up quickly. it’s not like you didn’t try to handle it properly, he’s the one that refused to listen with his fine, stubborn ass. you go to say something, but he tugs you closer by your hair, bringing you to his pelvis.

“shut the fuck up. ion wanna hear fuck else from you unless you slobbin’ on my dick,” he fusses and jesus, mary, and joseph— that shouldn’t have made your core coil in the way that it does.

well, shit. you do exactly what he says.

you bite your lip as you look up at him, pulling his boxers down to reveal the second love of your life: ony’s big fat fucking dick. it’s long and it’s thick and it’s heavy— absolutely nothing to play with or about. his size and girth would be the source of many people’s dreams or nightmares, depending.

you press open mouthed kisses down his length as you breathe heavy, his hand clenching your hair. you make sure to look him deep in his eyes as you trail your tongue back up, from his balls to his tip. ony groans as he watches you.

you look so good like this, bratty mouth occupied and eyes on his, doing exactly what the fuck he told you. “open,” he grunts. your tongue immediately sticks out, mouth open wide, and ony takes the opportunity to drop spit from his mouth to yours.

“now get to work,” he demands.

it sends chills down your spine, his gaze unmoving as he watches his favorite fucking show. you start slow, spitting on him to act as a lazy lube, sucking his head into your mouth. you hum as you taste him, tongue swirling over his length. you make sure it’s nice and wet before your head starts to bob as you take more and more of him into your mouth, using your hands to pump the rest.

until he reaches down and pushes them off.

”nah, fuck that. no hands, mama, gimme that,” he grunts.

so damn sexy.

you do what he says, resting your hands on his waist as you take more of him into your mouth. he huffs out a breath, still looking at you with furrowed brows. “yeah, fuck. sexy ass,” he encourages. “better suck me off better than you ever have. I deserve that shit, dealin’ with yo’ bratty ass.”

you whimper around him, spit and pre building up more and more and making everything so sloppy. you take him deeper and deeper, giving him what you think to be your best. ony’s groaning, grip tightening on your hair as he starts to feel that shit in his fucking toes.

“yeah, eat that dick up. way better use for that mouth than whatever bullshit you was spittin’ earlier,” he groans. he licks his lips as his head falls back, breath deepening and shuddering at the feel of your mouth. he can hear the slick, slurping sounds coming from you and it’s damn near heaven.

he looks down again, noticing what he considers to be a half-assed attempt at taking him all the way. “quit playin’ wit me like I won’t fuck this pretty face,” he grunts, using his grip on your hair to pull you further down his length. “swallow that shit. you can do better than that. show out like you been doin’ all damn night. speed up.”

you whine around him, your pussy clenching at his words. fuck, you’re loving this. it’s everything you’ve been wanting. on your knees, ony dominating you like he should’ve always been. you bob your head faster, bubbles forming as everything becomes sloppier and sloppier, your tongue tracing under his cock. you feel a light smack on your cheek and your eyes focus on his again, blinking in surprise.

“you ain’t doin’ shit forreal. let daddy take that,” he grunts. both of his hands are on your head now, and he’s stepping forward more and more until your back meets the edge of the bed. he starts to work his hips, groaning and moaning in such a delicious tone that it makes your wetness drip down your thighs.

“fuck. too fucking good, baby,” he groans. you’re gagging a bit, hands gripping his thighs as he thrusts harder and harder. “daddy loves this shit. love making you choke on me,” he pants. “I been missin’ out, huh? treatin’ you like you too pretty to gag on this big” thrust “fuckin’” thrust “dick.” thrust.

you’re so turned on, you think you might burst. you’re gagging now, choking, so you smack his thigh a few times, tapping out. he pulls you back by your hair and you gasp for air, coughing and digging your nails in his skin as you try to gather yourself.

“color,” ony grunts. you can’t really hear him, too focused on trying to get your shit together. “huh?” you choke out, still catching your breath. your head’s almost spinning, not just from the loss of air, but from this whole damn demeanor ony has.

“what’s your color, baby?” he asks, pulling you by your hair to look up at him. and, ah, there it is, just a sprinkle of concern mixed in with the frustration. his eyes are sweeping over you, wondering if you’re okay and if he can keep going. always so considerate of you, even when he’s pissed off beyond compare.

“fucking green,” you huff, wiping your face. you’re practically on cloud nine and it has you wondering if you really are toxic, but you can’t think about all of that when your fine ass, monster dicked boyfriend is standing in front of you looking like that. your pussy’s been working overtime purring.

ony licks his lips as he watches you. it’s obvious you’re enjoying this, and he is too. there’s something about making a mess of you that makes him want to do this shit morning, noon, and night. maybe your lil ass was right, maybe he was scared.

not anymore though.

“love your stubborn ass. need to do that more often. get up and come ride what’s yours. wanna see that ass bounce,” he rumbles. he pulls the chair by the foot of the bed closer with ease and sits on the edge of the bed. “c’mon. I’m puttin’ yo ass to work.”

sheesh. you can’t believe you’ve gone so long without this, his whole, uninhibited self making your mouth water. you take a breath before pushing yourself up to stand. you throw your leg over his lap, giving him a marvelous view of your ass, and he takes the chance to smack it hard enough to sting.

“my lil slut. come put it on me, since you bad,” he mumbles. he’s once again hypnotized, always obsessed with his girl’s ass because it’s his. he’ll make sure it’s red and raw by the end of the night,

you feel him guide you into the position he wants, his usually soft and gentle touch aggressive. he maneuvers you so easily, whipping you into place like he’s just moving a pillow or something. another smack to your ass makes you moan, but his fingers playing with your pussy make you squeal.

“gotta getchu ready for me, pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip as he watches his fingers play in your homemade water park. “always so wet for me, baby, but you’re drenched tonight. you like when daddy treats you like this, huh?” he asks, almost amazed.

you whine a moan when you feel his fingers press and swirl against your clit, the digits drowning in your wetness. his other hand comes down to your other cheek, whacking your ass with vigor. “that wasn’t rhetorical,” he grumbles.

“yes, daddy, I love it,” you whine, your hips pushing back for more of his attention on your sensitive core. he smacks your ass again, again, and again, watching it jiggle and move at his touch. you’re whining and wriggling on the seat, but you let out a nasty moan when you feel his fingers slip inside.

“fuuuck,” you moan, clenching around his fingers. he’s moving expertly, fingers curling just how you like it. when he leans to add his tongue to the mix, tracing ‘o’ ‘n’ ‘y’ over and over again, your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of his beard.

“mhm,” ony encourages, backing away enough to get a full view of your backside. “gonna fuck this pretty, messy pussy out the frame tonight. throw it back, lemme get a sneak peak of how you gonna take daddy’s big ass dick.”

“yes, sir,” you whine, starting to move your hips and ride his long, thick fingers. it feels so damn good, you can feel your mind slipping away and getting all fuzzy-like. your hand raises to grab your boob, squeezing and massaging it as you throw your head back.

“ohhh, it’s like that, huh? that’s a new one,” ony coos mockingly, having never heard you refer to him as such. he’s aching to reach and relieve himself if only slightly, but he can’t tear his hands away from your body for anything. “you actin’ like you respect me or some. guess I gotta treat you like this so you don’t play games in my face, huh? made me feel like a punk.”

you wish you can say you’re sorry, you really do, but with the way the night’s going? you’ll never regret this shit.

ever.

“j-just wanted all of you, daddy,” you moan, your head dipping forward as you continue to ride his fingers. his other hand slips from your ass to between your legs, starting to rub against your clit. your toes curl and another whine escapes you. “I don’t regret it, either,” you pant.

“oh, you don’t?” ony laughs. it’s almost sinister, a little too cocky and not even offended. he knows you’ll be fucked out by the end of all of this, there’s no doubt in his mind. he lands another spank to your ass, pulling his other hand away to lick it clean. “night’s still so young, sweetheart. don’t let your mouth write checks yo’ lil ass can’t cash.”

you whimper at the loss of his fingers, but you’re not wanting for long. you feel him slap his dick against your ass, obviously enamored. “just fuck me, damn,” you huff, reaching back to pump him a couple times. he groans at your touch, face scrunching because you know just how to work him.

“I need to shut you up again? cause I swear I can,” he grunts. he grabs the hand you have on him and pins it to your back before grabbing himself, lining up with your beautiful pussy, and pushing in. the sounds that both of you make should go in the hall of fame, both of you so worked up.

“ahh, ony,” you moan. he feels unreal, making himself at home in your guts. it’s got you clenching the chair with a death grip as you adjust to his size, his shallow thrusts digging into you slowly. “so big, daddy. love that dick,” you whimper.

“so why I’m doin’ the work? told yo’ ass to ride me. c’mon, mama, put on a show for your man,” he says breathlessly. he’s never been one to pretend your pussy doesn’t make him weak. he’s breathless, drowning in your perfect flower.

when you start to work your hips slowly, he has to lean back on one of his hands as he groans and rolls his eyes back. you grip him so perfectly and take him so damn well, he’s so sure there’s no better place to be than right here in you. he reaches to grab a handful of that ass and squeezes.

“so good,” you moan, moving your hips slowly as you settle into the best position you can. “daddy, you’re so perfect,” you groan, looking over your shoulder to lock eyes with him. you swear you can feel him jump within you.

he loves when you praise him back, telling him he’s in your guts or fucking you better than any man ever could. you’re looking at him with a gorgeous mix of love and lust in your eyes and it makes ony’s heart squeeze in his chest. he loves you so fucking much.

both of your breathing is deep now, lips bitten and licked in arousal and eyes low. he sits up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you back to suck your tongue into his mouth. the kiss is sloppy and wet, and both of you can taste yourselves on the other’s tongue. you whine into the kiss as his hand wraps around the front of your neck to give a firm squeeze.

ony pulls back with a huff, his hand moving from your neck to smack your ass again. it stings so perfectly. “so why you make me out to be a punk, huh?” he asks. he can feel himself getting frustrated all over again just thinking about it. scared. he’ll show you scared. “playin in my face like that. girl, I’ll fuck yo’ pussy up. throw that ass on me before I get pissed off again.”

“anything for you, daddy,” you breathe out. “anything for you.” you start to pick up your pace, and soon you’re bouncing, bouncing, bouncing on ony’s perfect dick. he’s reaching places no one’s ever been and no one’s ever gonna be if you have any say. your moans are loud and you’re showing the fuck out.

ony’s in heaven, he’s sure of it. the way you’re gripping him, taking him so deep, the way you moan and whine for him, the perfect view he has of your reddening ass sore from his spanks… he wants to let his head fall back from the pleasure but he just can’t look away from you. you’re perfect.

“fuck, yeah, baby, take that dick. s’all yours, mama,” he groans. he can’t help but praise you, even if he’s still mad. the way you’re riding him is just undeniably, toe curlingly out of this damn world. “fuck, you workin’ me so good. ass so perfect, pussy just immaculate. keep goin’. keep fuckin’ goin.”

you whine, his words going straight to your core. your man is just everything, it’s so easy to lose yourself in him and give him the show you know he wants. he makes you feel like a fucking star. you let your head fall back, curls bouncing with each shift of your body as you reach between your legs and work your clit.

“gonna cuuum,” you whine, clenching around him. “holy fuck, ony! daddy, m’gonna—“

“push that shit out,” he grunts. it’s taking everything in him not to cum. he’s nowhere near done with you, so he reaches down to hold his base and stave off his orgasm for now. “let it go, baby. you worked hard for it. c’mon, wet daddy’s dick like only you can,” he encourages breathlessly.

it doesn’t take much longer before you’re doing exactly that, moaning his name so loud you wonder if people can hear you miles away. your hand is working yourself fast, clenching and squirting as your release washes over you in wave after wave. you pant and moan as you feel ony’s soothing hand rub up and down your back.

he leans forward to press kisses all over you. your back, your shoulders, your arms, your cheek, and finally your lips. you melt into his touch as you bask in the aftermath of your orgasm. “yeah, baby. did so fuckin’ good for daddy,” he murmurs in your ear. you hum softly, eyes closed as you just float.

you feel ony shifting, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into his lap. he maneuvers your jelly-like body to rest against his chest. he’s careful as he lies back on the bed, rubbing your back as you curl up against him and nuzzle into his neck. his scent washes over you, comforting even if sweaty, and you let out a soft sigh,

you take some time to cool down, catching your breath and letting your body calm. ony’s hands are on you the entire time, soothing and caressing every part of you. he kisses your forehead and murmurs in your ear calmly, “take a break, babygirl. but I ain’t done with you.”

…pardon?

your eyes fly open at that.

“huh?” you ask, looking up at him like he’s insane. “are you kidding? I’m exhausted,” you rasp. and you really are. your legs and hips are sore like you just worked out, you feel all fucked out and sweaty and ready to roll over and go to bed.

ony chuckles, still rubbing your back. you’re funny if you think he’s letting you off that easy. his hand slides down to caress your ass, squeezing it. it’s sore from all that damn smacking he did. “you thought that’s all I was gonna do? nah, baby. hell no.”

you weakly raise up on your arms, looking at him incredulously. you’re met with a very serious look in his eye that actually kind of concerns you. he looks smug as he utters his next words. “I ain’t even come yet.”

your jaw drops. “what? there’s no way-“ you attempt to turn and look, not believing his ass. you just gave a five star show and he didn’t come? that’s almost offensive. ony grabs your chin and turns your face to look at him. his smile is gone, eyes looking fiery once again.

“what’s your color?”

you blink. and then you blink again. “you’re joking,” you say. but with the look in his eyes, you know he’s not. ony’s head tilts. “I told you, you asked for this. I asked if you can handle it, and you said ‘I can, daddy,’” he says, mocking your voice just slightly. “so, again, I ask: what’s your color?”

you stare at him for a moment, wondering if he’ll say ‘sike, let’s go to bed’ or laugh after a few seconds, but he doesn’t. he meets your stare with confidence, gaze never faltering. is this man insane? you wonder briefly. but there’s no way you’ll let him win or mock you. he’s right, you did ask for this and you did say you can handle it. what’s another round?

“green,” you answer firmly. you can do this, you can handle him. he’s always been so soft with you, and he’s probably tired as well, so there can’t be much else. you’re confident that you can show him just who the fuck you are.

a smile slowly crawls onto ony’s face in response. you have no idea that you’re flying right into the sun,

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

you fucked up. there’s really no other way to put it.

who would’ve guessed?

you don’t know how long it’s been or how many orgasms you’ve endured, but ony’s still going. your ass is sore from spanking, voice raspy from moaning, and you’re a mess of sweat and cum.

“daddyyyy,” you whine, your head held back by your curls as ony drills into you from below. you’re on top of him, straddling him as you lean forward on your tired arms. ony’s got a firm grip on your hair, holding you to bare your neck as he kisses and sucks and bites marks into your skin.

“shut up and take this dick,” he grunts. “told yo’ ass not to play with me. this where that shit gets you.” he’s like an animal used to captivity out in the wild for the first time in years. you’re getting so much energy from him that’s been backed up for so long, and ony just can’t stop.

“s’too much, papa, fuck, I can’t take it,” you whimper. tears are falling from a mixture of pleasure and overwhelm, your body weak from so much exertion. but it’s still so fucking good, you’ve basically just given yourself over to him to do whatever he wants.

“you know your safeword,” he huffs. every orgasm, every time you need a break, he asks you your color, and every time it’s green. he’s keeping a close eye on you despite his feral demeanor, and he can tell that you’re not done yet. he trusts you’d use your safeword even if he couldn’t tell that you reached your limit.

“you made me do this, so you deal with it. you wanna tap out, tap out. I ain’t stoppin till I’m done,” he grunts. you feel so fucking good and you’re taking all of him so well. you’re still coming, still so damn wet and responding perfectly. those tears down your face only get him going more and more because he knows he’s fucking you good.

he brings your face to his, kissing you deeply once again. one of his hands moves to grip your thigh as his tongue swirls around yours. he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling and making sounds from the aggressive kiss. he releases you once again and gets back to business.

he bucks up into you like you owe him money or something, digging into his pussy. you hiccup, eyes closing tight as you clench around him for the nth time. “fuck, fuck, fuck, please,” you whimper. your arms are shaking from the exercise, barely holding you up. after a few moments, they just give out completely.

“color, baby,” ony grunts as he slows down. he releases his grip on your hair as soon as your arms drop, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. your mind is so fuzzy, having an out of body experience with the way he just keeps pleasuring you. “g-green, papa,” you sniffle, your arms weakly wrapping around his neck.

you’re getting tired and he knows it. you’re almost at your limit and so is he. you’re so damn stubborn and just as obsessed with him as he is you. you’ve been a real trooper and he’ll admit that he underestimated you. you can keep up and handle him better than anyone.

but he’s going to come out as the winner.

“c’mon, get up. arch yo’ shit how I like it.”

you blink a few times, hesitating for just a moment as you look up at him. you’re happy to do what he wants, you‘re just a bit too blissed out to comprehend.

“you can’t hear me or sum?” he asks. his hand comes down and smacks your ass as the other holds you in place. you squeal a bit, your arms tightening around his neck. “get up and arch. wanna cum on that pretty ass.”

damn, he’s just so sexy like this. demanding, unforgiving, and so so serious. “o-okay,” you murmur, moving as quickly as you can in your weakened state to get into position. it’s almost pathetic how you can’t hold yourself up, laying your head on the pillow below you as you arch your ass into the air.

“look at you,” he croons, his hand shifting to caress your body. he rubs up your back and shoulders, reaching around you to gives your perfect tits a massage. he presses kisses down your shoulders and back before his hands meet your hips. he squeezes and grabs, shaking the prize in his eyes so that it moves in that hypnotic way he loves so damn much. “fine ass. actin’ out all damn night cause you wanna get dicked down like a fuckin’ slut.”

his hand comes down on your skin again, making you gasp softly and jump. “daddy’s needy girl, huh? freaky ass don’t want me to be nice to you. you wanna get treated like a ragdoll. hope I gave you exactly what you asked for.”

you sniffle and nod, hugging the pillow closer to you. “so much more, daddy. I-I like when you’re nice too I just needed this,” you whimper, pushing your hips back towards him in search of more of his touch.

he hums, rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs. “I know you did, babygirl, but I ain’t ask, did I?” he chuckles as he slides back into you. his hands come to either side of your waist, pulling you back to meet his slow thrusts. “you ever disrespect me like that again, this is where you gone end up. fucked up cause your damn ego is too big. don’t make me out to be a lil punk ever again, you get me?”

“I get you, papa,” you whimper, nuzzling into the comforter below you. his hips start to pick up pace and at this point, you’re just a whining and moaning mess under his touch. your toes are curled up and your eyes are finding their home in the back of your head once again.

“that’s what I fuckin’ thought. just cause I’m soft with you don’t mean I’m soft, baby. I’ll remind you over and over if I have to. pissin’ me off when you supposed to be my good girl,” he grunts, hand smacking the side of your thigh. he presses down on your waist, making you arch deeper so he can keep fucking you right.

you sniffle, more tears falling from your eyes in your overstimulation. he’s deep in you, loud squelches sounding from your weeping pussy. “m’sorry, daddy,” you whimper, hugging the pillow closer to you as he digs you out. you’re too tired and too exhausted at this point, extra sensitive in your current state. you feel bad for making him feel some type of way, hurting his pride just to get a reaction, even if it did give you what you’ve wanted.

but you’ve been humbled.

“there it is, there she goes. good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts. “been waitin’ all night for that. you sorry? tell daddy. speak up.” his hips meet yours sharper and sharper, your eyes crossing from the force of his thrusts. you whine and moan, feeling him grip your curls from behind to lift your head. “can’t hear you, baby. tell daddy you sorry,” he grumbles.

“fuuuck, i’m sorry, daddy. won’t disrespect you like that again! please forgive me,” you moan, hands gripping whatever you can for support. all you can do is take it, take it, take it, his hands holding you down by your waist and his hips never stopping. his eyes roll back and so do yours as you can feel that coil building in your stomach again.

“daddy’s gonna humble your pretty self whenever he needs to. don’t forget who run this shit,” he groans. his hands tighten around your waist and his breathing deepens into moan after moan. “keep tellin’ daddy you sorry. you want me to forgive you? you gone have to beg for it if you wanna catch this nut.”

“m’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorryyyy,” you whine and nod frantically. “want it, ony, gimme it! please, I’m so sorry! I was wrong, so fucking wrong. i’m gonna fucking come,” you huff. another smack lands on your ass and you whimper in response. “yeah, know that’s right,” ony grunts. you feel so fucking good, look so damn good. he just can’t get enough of your sounds.

“please, please, please,” you sob. “please forgive your babyyy, I’ll never please in your face again!” ony chuckles and lands another spank to your ass. you start to clench around him as your release crashes down on you. it hits you like a truck, and you actually feel breathless, moaning loudly s you make yet another mess of the sheets. “yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, ony, so perfect,” you cry.

ony fucks you through it, jaw dropping and eyebrows furrowing at the way you clench and spasm around him. “mmmm, fuck. take that shit, come all on this dick, princess. you sound so good begging for me. I forgive you, baby, swear I do. pussy too good to stay mad at you. fuck, I’m bouta nut,” he gasps.

he pulls out quickly, working himself with his hand as his other keeps his grip on you. he comes with a loud groan, painting your ass with his release as he breathes deep. he pants as he makes sure to get every last drop on that perfect bum of yours, hips twitching from the overstimulation. “holy fuck,” he moans. if you hadn’t already come before, his moans definitely would’ve sent you over the edge.

you collapse onto your stomach as you pant, eyes fluttering closed as you sit in awe of the night. never did you think that all of that was going to happen. you breathe deeply, feeling a chill go down your spine as your body calms. your limbs feel like you just left the gym and you’re truly, without a doubt, completely fucked out. you learned your lesson.

for the most part.

ony flops down next to you as he catches his breath, his arm covering his eyes. he hadn’t even realized how pent up he was. he’ll admit, he feels better. he’s glad he’s gotten his point across. the two of you stay like that for a while, letting your breathing even out as you recover from your overstimulation.

after a while, his eyes open and immediately find you, taking in your features. you look exhausted, but in a good way. he knows you’re going to sleep well tonight… and upon closer inspection, it looks like you’re on your way to that already.

he slowly sits up and reaches over to you, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. then he quietly leaves to the en suite bathroom and grabs a towel, running it under water. while it sits, he starts the tub. he returns just as quietly and uses the towel to gently clean the mess he left on your bum, being sure not to irritate the sore skin.

he discards the towel and calls out to you softly. “hey, baby,” he murmurs as he walks towards your side of the bed. he leans over, his thumb now softly tracing your jaw.

“hi,” you greet softly, your eyes opening. today’s been a long day, but very very great. you feel so sleepy and satisfied and you’re ready for bed.

“you okay, princess? how you feelin’?” he questions. he’s looking at you intently, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. it makes your heart flutter like always. you love him so damn much.

“I’m okay, ony. I really liked it, which I’m sure you could tell,” you laugh softly. it’s true, if your current state is anything to go by. you look all kinds of relaxed and he could tell that he made you come quite a few times tonight.

“you sure?” he asks again, hand now softly caressing your hip. he’s gentle as ever, back to being the ony that you’re used to. careful, attentive. “tell me bout myself if you need to,” he murmurs, making you laugh tiredly in response.

“• ᥫ᭡ •, baby, I’m serious,” he mumbles, cupping your cheek. “I love you. I need to know you’re good.” you can see the sincerity in his eyes and it makes you smile fondly. this man love loves you and you’re very grateful for him.

“I’m good, ony. I promise,” you reassure. you’re better than good, honestly. you’re fully satisfied, still secure in the fact that ony loves you and would never hurt you. he smiles and caresses your cheek for a little longer.

“good,” he murmurs, hands caressing you nonstop. his touch is so soothing that it’s almost putting you to sleep. “you were so perfect for me tonight, baby. you did so well taking all of me… I’m proud of you.” his words make you smile and he leans to press a kiss to your lips. “thanks, pa. love you so much,” you say softly.

“I love you more, babygirl,” he croons and kisses you once more. you look so beautiful, all tired and satisfied, looking up at him with heavy eyelids. he knows you’re seconds from sleep, but after such a long night the both of you really need to get clean.

“c’mere, princess,” he mutters, shifting to scoop you up into his arms. “gonna get you all cleaned up and then we’ll sleep, okay?” he says. you nod, curling up against him as your eyes fall shut. he presses a kiss to your forehead and carries you to the bathroom.

he sets you down first and then he follows to slide behind you, both of you sinking into the hot water with a sigh. ony’s eyes shut for a moment as he holds you close to him, rubbing your thigh tenderly. he stays like that for a while, feeling you lean back against him. you’re in bliss, just being held by him while the water relaxes your tired muscles.

eventually, he leans to press a kiss to your shoulder. he starts to wash you, murmuring soft reassurances in your ear. he’s careful, his touch making you hum softly, and you just about melt into his arms. he cleans you both, taking his time to caress and kiss whatever he can reach. he needs to make sure there’s no underlying tension after such a night, and he’s glad to see that you really are okay. just exhausted.

soon there both of you are dry and ony changes the sheets as you do your nighttime routine, wanting to make sure you both are as comfortable as you can be. when you exit the bathroom, you drop onto the bed with a light groan. ony chuckles and slides in next to you, pulling you close.

your back is against his chest, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck as your scent takes over his senses. he presses several tender kisses to your skin as he holds you close. you hum lightly in response, eyes closed as you bask in his sweet touch.

“I love you, princess,” he murmurs reverently. it’s the last thing you hear before sleep overcomes you.

a/n: started this in feb lol. you know how you take a picture but stare at it too long and start to hate it? yeah. me thinks I like the end product, though. I hope ya like itttt! feedback always welcome and wanted <3

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ You invite them to live in your Serenitea Pot

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

After prolonged years of adventuring, traveling, and battling, you decided it was the appropriate moment to invite your partner to your Serenitea Pot. It’s like inviting a significant other to move in with you, right? You are delighted, and even though your beloved is acting honored and calm on the outside, little do you know - he is secretly screaming with victory on the inside. 

✧ A tender smile graced Pierro’s cold expression. The first time you spoke about him taking residence along with you in your Serenitea Pot mansion, The Jester's inner machination was already planning a wedding. He loved you, with every fiber of his being. And whether you decide to live in the grand Snezhnayan Palace or somewhere private, it won’t hinder his plans to spoil you as his beloved.

It was all according to plan. You wake up, breakfast is already prepared. You start your day, the house is already cleaned. You wish to rest, his arms are already open.

He took his duties as a resident of your humble abode as if he were the househusband of this home. All matters were taken care of by him. And the fact that you two are already leading a private life together like a proper couple ignited his cold demeanor with softheartedness. It suited him; the commotion of the Fatui and Snezhnayan delegations were far away from you two. And with no peering eyes, the Fatui Director was busy with so many thoughts about your future: making your home better, showing himself as a man who would coddle you all day long, choosing a ring for you…

“Dear? You are deep in thoughts again,” - You called out suddenly, your gentle voice breaking his train of vehement thoughts. “I told you, you’re here to rest, not overwork yourself with chores!”

“Ah, my apologies. It seems I was lost in my mind once more. You know my habit of preparedness is often prevalent.”

✧ The honorable Il Capitano went silent the first time you invited him, and his pitch-black helmet did not provide any clues to his already stoic body language. At first, you hesitated. Perhaps he did not feel comfortable taking such an importan-

Next thing you know, the mighty captain is kneeling in front of you, his head hung low in utter reverence. “It would be my greatest honor to receive your blessings. I shall conduct myself with utmost obedience in your domain.”

“Goodness gracious, It’s just my house, Capitano! Not the Tsaritsa’s throne!” 

After much convincing and assurance, you finally had The First of the Harbingers in your dwelling. In the beginning, you pondered, what a man of his caliber would do in his private time. Perhaps more training, or planning for battles? You decided to create a separate area for weaponry storage and training duels. After all, you wanted to be considerate.

To your surprise, Capitano never brought his “work” in the privacy of your home. Instead, he treated you to some of the best home cooking in the seven nations. With a broad outdoor area like your Serenitea Pot, Il Capitano finally managed to flex his grilling skills. You never knew BBQ grilled vegetables could taste so heavenly. And on colder nights, he preferred some home baking.

“Who would’ve thought the strongest man in Teyvat relished such a peaceful routine when he’s at home,” - You teased him once. Feasting like a monarch with his cooking, you have your cherished prepare the best food and provide the strongest cuddles - what else would you need?

“I would never bring you the turbulence of war to the footsteps of your home. After all, mundanity is a luxury that the common folk cannot comprehend.”

✧ When Il Dottore moved in with you - he became an absolute menace to your mental well-being. The upper floor of your manor was entirely occupied for his scholarly needs. From your library to your study; the upper rooms were regaled, making a mini makeshift lab filled with vials of obscure chemicals or too-long-to-read medical names.

But that was not the main issue at all. The greatest conundrum was that Dottore considered your privacy as our privacy. According to him, the Serenitea Pot was a private residence, secluded from the turmoil of the world’s idiocracy. Any temporary visitors would receive a nasty glare from him whenever they stayed. This was his confidential sanctuary with you, not theirs. And in his private time, when it’s only you and him in the house, the Doctor would forget that people often get dressed after a shower - because he would exit the bathroom wearing only a towel around his hips, and keep waltzing around your room like it’s nothing.

“...Uh? Please dress first, Dottore.”

“Very well.”

“Not here!!!”

Nevertheless, you managed all that. What you didn’t manage, however, is how Dottore took the most amount of space in bed. Your bed, mind you. Before he joined your travels, you created a comfy bedroom in your Serenitea Pot, a separate, quiet setting for your favorite mad scholar. Alas, every night you peacefully went to bed, only to wake up with a figure wrapping his arms tightly around your midsection, taking half of your bed.

Today was one of those days. The blankets were a mess, some had fallen to the floor. You feel uncomfortable and claustrophobic in your own bed, something nudging you to almost fall off. You already knew the culprit of your situation - Dottore. He was dozing off comfortably behind you, his arms sleepily thrown around your form, glued to your torso.

You whined groggily, trying to get away - “... You have your own bed. Stop pushing me.”

“Shush. Come here.” - Dottore's arms encircled around your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. “It’s our bed now.” 

It seems The Doctor didn’t take long to feel at home. Oh well. The only way to deal with this was to use him as a mattress from now on.

✧ At first, you hesitated to invite Scaramouche to your Serenitea Pot. It was still a work in progress, and not all areas were refurbished or prepared. Yet surprisingly, it was he who opened the discussion of a joint dwelling. Perhaps it was his instinct to keep you closer, to be certain of your safety in his arms.

After asking and discussing, you were pleasantly surprised when the Balladeer stated: “I do not expect you to build a palace. I will help you with the renovation. You can ask for my help.”

And so he did. You felt timid with your emptied Serenitea Pot, yet The Harbinger took it upon himself to aid you. He worked with you on where the house should be, and what type of garden or entrance should accompany it. There was something about his serious gaze whenever he discussed with you the matters of home. As if some old memories were reemerging.

“It doesn't matter. We won’t clutter the place, as a busy environment becomes a nuisance. The less one has - the better.”

With a profound touch of contemplation and minimalism, You and Scaramouche managed to plan an elegant abode. It was simple, yet perfectly maintained - with the best aspects of Inazuma and other foreign nations in the craftsmanship of the furniture. You were surprised but content. You even went as far as to ask your beloved whether he wanted a more traditional Inazuman style for this private dwelling but he strictly rejected it.

He didn’t want any more memories of his “birthplace” to resurface. Not in a place that will be private for you two.

So here you were, giddy with excitement as the interior of your manor was settled and ready. The bedroom was cozy and comfortable, a perfect place to lounge and rest. The Harbinger would groan whenever you tugged and pulled him to sleep next to you. 

“If you move once in your sleep, I’m pushing you off the bed.” 

You promised him you wouldn’t. But it was he who relented and held you close to his chest during the night. He did not need a home or a safe haven from the cruel world; You were already his home. 

✧ Bring in the fine china, and roll out the red carpet - because Pantalone was coming over to your Serenitea Pot. You know that your sweetheart has a manor pricier than Mondstadt’s entire GDP, with fancy knick-knacks and luxuries. But as a couple, it was always Pantalone who insisted on you living with him, since he could spoil and pamper you after long travel expeditions. In his manor, you can simply have everything you ever desire. 

But today was a grand occasion. You decided to invite him to your humble home, even if you had little to impress him with. The Harbinger was ecstatic, this was a step he desired and longed for. Should he dress formal-casual or more extravagant? No, no. His hair must be well-kept. Perhaps he should bring an expensive bottle of Fontainian wine… The evening must end flawlessly. It’s his first night in your home, for crying out loud. An evening designated to culminate with lovely cuddles in your bed, lavishing you with kisses or more. 

Upon entering your cozy home, all his worries dissipated after you embraced him in your usual jovial way. You proudly displayed your manor, tugging at his hand and pulling him closer. Mirroring your pride, he stood analyzing each item or furniture as if it were a priceless relic in a museum.

“Ah, yes. I see this must be a traditional Inazuman doll, one used in ancient arts and rituals.”

“Oh, these round things? This is just a tanuki daruma… They bounce funny.”

“And I see this figurine must be imported as well, my dear? A marvelous craftsmanship of wood and carvings. Interesting.”

“This is just a wooden figurine of an Aranara” - you smiled proudly.

“I like your funny words, darling.” 

✧ If Tartaglia never invited you over to his family home back in Snezhnaya, you would’ve thought this man was homeless. The 11th often stayed in your Serenitea Pot, always giddy yet conscientious. Whenever you wished for any help around the house, his sleeves would roll up and the apron was on; all you had to do was ask, and you shall receive.

Thus, the two of you would help each other. If you were cooking, then he would do the laundry; all chores were equally divided. Childe was naturally hardworking, and you loved him for his dedication to the house. It always felt warmer and cozier whenever he stayed, and you made sure to display your appreciation throughout the day by providing kisses to the cheek or gentle caresses to his hair.

Who wouldn’t be thrilled when their beloved greets them home and kisses them on the cheek? Now that he is residing in your private adeptal realm, it makes him look forward to returning home even more. To be back from a mission, only to kiss you, pick you up, and squeeze you lovingly in his arms.

Alas, despite his domestic joy, he was also becoming restless. Such a huge realm, you could have a whole area for dueling or training an army here. Therefore, he would start nagging at you throughout the day, asking you to join him.

“Come now, sweetheart! Just a quick morning stretch!” - He said from the living room’s doorway.

“Oh, I know! How about we make a shooting range outdoors and see who’ll get the most bullseye.” - his voice rang from downstairs.

“Or a one-on-one sparring match. That will get the blood flowing.” - he even stood behind the bathroom door, still imploring you through closed doors.

All this and more persisted. Even in the early morning, when your eyesight barely adjusted to the sunlight, the first thing you’d see is him leaning over your shoulders “Perhaps we can-” 

“Nope,” - you intercepted, albeit sleepily. Pulling him closer to bed, you made sure he went still in your arms. “No fighting. Only cuddles...”

“Oh? Is that your form of a challenge, darling? Be prepared, because I won't back down.”

[athenaeum-of-the-herald]

Starting the Journey:

• 𝐀 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐦 •

Hellenic polytheism (commonly referred to as helpol and popularly, although incorrectly, referred to as hellenism or hellenismos) refers to the reverence and worship of the hellenic (greek) gods. Over the past 7+ years, the religion has seen a boon of new followers popularized by social media, books, and TV shows. While this is phenomenal, it's brought in an influx of young and/or beginner future worshippers with no clue where to start. And with so many different possible starting points, a plethora of gods, and that one deity identification spread floating around, this post serves as a path all on its own.

You can follow it to the T, or take the basics of it and forage ahead yourself!

As always, I am a single resource. Please remember that even though this post serves as a guide, your own research will benefit you far more. Let's begin!

0. Respect

The very VERY first thing to remember when beginning your journey with hellenic polytheism, is to remember this is a religion. Sounds obvious, right? But many people seem to forget that the gods are in fact, gods. They are ancient, and the religion is very much alive and thriving. Respect will always be ground rule 0, and approaching the gods casually or for shits and giggles is not only disrespectful to them, but the beautiful, rich, and thriving existence of this religion.

1. The Starting Point

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

Starting the worship of the gods begins with learning about the god (or gods) you'll be revering. There's a plethora of books to start with; "Ancient Greek Religion", "Ancient Greek Cults", "A Companion to Greek Religion". And while you should ABSOLUTELY read these, I understand that that can be a bit daunting and scary. So your VERY BASICS, should be "The Homeric Hymns", *The Orphic Hynms", and "Hesiod Theogony: Work and Days."

These books will give you the foundational basics of the gods and their myths, as well as expose you to their cults, epithets, and titles. I know reading sounds like a bore and a task, but nothing feels worse than jumping head first into the religion and worshipping a god you know nothing about.

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Research. Research. Research. All gods have domains, and the only way you'll find the god suited best for you, is to learn.

Perhaps you know Apollo as a sun and music god. But did you know he's also a god of medicine, with darted arrows that could grant sudden death or cause plagues?

Perhaps you know Ares as the god of bloodthirsty war, but did you know he's also the father of the Amazon-queens? Or the giver of food, as he assisted his newborn son in suckling milk from his dead mother.

The gods all have domains that are incredibly well known, but also far lesser known/popular ones. Learning these can help you decide which god is best suited for your worships.

Absolutely check out theoi.com for information on the individual gods and their domains. It also provides a great starting point for learning their myths, provides texts that pertain to them, and provides a list of their epithets and cult titles.

Yes, the constant research can be daunting and tiresome and boring. But this is the absolute BEST place to start. How will you worship a god you barely understand? How will you know what offerings are favorable to them? But most importantly, how will you be able to build a relationship with a god (kharis) that you barely know?

You can build the most beautiful altar in the world for them, but that altar will become empty decor if you don't know how to (safely) invite a god into the space and worship them properly. These are the fundamentals, and you will have an incredibly hard time getting any sort of fulfillment worshipping an ignored and empty altar.

𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐀𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮

A very popular thing beginners like to start with is "deity identification." This involves using a tarot deck, and a (typically) pre-made spread. The spread will assign a meaning to each card (their domain, their personality, what they want to work on with you, etc).

I do not advise this for beginners.

At least, beginners with no background in divination to that degree. There is a vast difference between using tarot to divine messages and advice from spirits and the universe, and using tarot to divine the identification of a god. This requires much more than a basic understanding of tarot, and a god can very easily scramble the card meanings to however they please. This can lead to a lot of confusion and frustration in beginners, as they don't know how to interpret these messages.

Don't focus on identifying a particular god yet. Instead, learn as much as you can and settle on a god you resonate with first. This god may or may not be one you worship for years to come, and it's okay to be cautious when dipping your toes into helpol.

02. The Path of Worship

𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬

Kharis is defined as "the exchange of goodwill and reciprocity between humans and the divine." It is the relationship you build with your god, and emphasizes the importance of the personal relationship we build with them through devotional acts.

It's asked a lot, "what can I, a regular small mortal, provide to an ancient god? How can I be beneficial to them?" And the answer is simply devotion.

Devotion is what the gods wants, and they enjoy/ indulge in our acts in their names. To give devotion is to recognize the gods as entities deserving of reverence. So how do we do this?

𝐌𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐚

Miasma is a sort of "spiritual dirtiness" upon a person, and is something that we as mortal pick up in every day life and is not necessarily considered "bad". It is an aspect that separates us from the divine, who do not collect miasma. It's important to note that this isn't equivalent to the Abrahamic version of "sin". Miasma can (in most cases) be washed away simply by the act of washing your hands. It's stated in quite a few places that one would use khernips for hand washing, although there is a floating beliefs that khernips is "water purifies by fire." Typically considered fire that a torch has been doused in and then used to wash one's hands.

However from the research I've personally done, this is never actually confirmed and khernips is simply clean water that one would wash their hands in.

There is also a belief that those with periods are considered miasmic before the gods and therefore shouldn't worship until 7 days after they stop bleeding.

There is no evidence (to my knowledge) that verifies this and periods are not typically mentioned in ancient Greek texts or sources. It seems to stem from the fact that most bodily fluids are considered miasmic to many of the gods (ie blood, spit, genital secretion such as cum, etc) and should not be offered. However, this does not state that someone on their period cannot approach the gods to provide offerings and worship, so long as the blood is nor being offered.

Certain miasmic impurities cannot be simply washed away, however, such as murder and being around the dead, and may require a purification ritual to be cleansed.

𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Offerings are the sacrifices we make to our gods. They are the gifts we give, and oftentimes tangible displays of our devotion and worship.

Offerings can be a wide range of things and depend on the god's interests, estates, and attributes. Learning a gods preferences will result in favor from them, and builds kharis and report with them.

Its also important to understand what your god doesn't like or enjoy. What is seen as favorable to one god may be offensive and displeasing to another. A very obvious example of this would be offerings between Aphrodite and Artemis. While Aphrodite would be pleased with an accept offerings reminiscent of sexual desire and acts (dedicated sex toys for example), this would be unfavorable to Artemis, a virginal goddess, who has no need nor desire for such things.

Understanding the preferences of your gods is key to providing worthy offerings.

𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐬

In addition to offerings, devotional acts are also a large aspect of building kharis. These can be large acts such as cleaning litter from beaches in the name of Poseidon or Amphitrite, or small acts such as devoting washing your face to Aphrodite. This post itself is a devotional act to Lord Hermes, who reveres the spreading and sharing of knowledge.

Devotional acts will fall under the domain of your god, and can be done simply by doing them, in their name.

Once again, ensure that your devotional acts aren't seen as unfavorable to your god. Poseidon will enjoy you donating to sea life preservative charities and beach clean ups, however that same act will be inconsequential to Ares.

𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐲𝐦𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Prayers are not typically seen as offerings, as an offering is a gift to that god with no expectations. That said, it is common to provide offerings during or after prayers. Prayers are requests and petitions made to a god in asking for assistance, whether that be for help in an issue, advice, help reaching a resolution to something, or even asking for a little extra help or luck throughout the day.

That said, prayers can also be used as offerings if used entirely to praise your god with no added requests. The different would be asking for anything in exchange. Prayers of petitions are not offerings, prayers of praise and reverence are.

If you're curious about the construction of prayers, you can check out my break down of crafting prayers!

𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬

Altars are stations dedicated to your god. They act as designated spots of worship to pray at, make libations, and make offerings.

Whike you may see a lot of altars floating around that are incredibly aesthetic, it's important to know that an altar doesn't have to be large and grand. It can be a dedicated shelf, the corner of a shelf, a shoebox, or even a small mint tin. The point is that it is a place of dedication for your god.

𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Libations typically preface offerings, although are not required for every single offeding or every single day. But they are wonderful for building kharis as you provide (and in some cases partake in) a drink for the gods. I go in depth on libations, how to do them, and common libations given in this post!

𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Now that you know how to worship, it's important to ensure your worships are recieved. Doing this is simple, and just required you inviting the god into your space. You don't need to do some large invokation like stated in my prayers post, especially if you're just making offerings. A simple "I dedicated this to [god]".

That said, it's always good to invoke properly when dedicating your altar to them. An invocation should include the god's name, and display that you know who they are. You can use epithets, parentage, residences, and domains in your invocations. An example invocation for Zeus could go something like:

"I call upon Zeus, the Supreme and most high. King of kings and head of Olympus, son of Rhea and overthrower of his father Kronos. I invite you into this space, crafted and dedicated to your might and grace."

With this, we have invoked Zeus and designation the altar as his own.

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Communication with a god can be a nerve wracking thing to start, but I can assure you they're not going to bite. There's a myriad of ways to communicate with a god, and its wholly up to you and them to decide what works best. Some people work best with tarot, others with oracle cards. Some prefer pendulums, ouija boards/spirit boards, dice, bones, runes, charm casting, or something else entirely.

If one thing is uncomfortable for you or doesn't seem to be working all too well, simply try something else. I akin it to fiddling with the antenaes of an old TV to try and get a signal from the divine. You have to find the position that simpky works best.

03. Walking the Path of the Gods

As we've discussed research and starting your worships, I want to briefly touch of potential paths that extend past simple devotion and worship. Namely, working with the gods and priestesshood.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐆𝐨𝐝

You'll see the term "deity work" floating around a lot. This refers to working closely with a god for the betterment of yourself and/or your life with that god's assistance. It typically comes after building kharis with that god, and an agreed upon decision to work together.

This typically comes after establishing kharis and worshipping that god, and I personally don't recommend attempting to jump right into it. Deity work is not only energy consuming, but directly calls that god to assist you closely and personally. Attempting to start this and simply walking away because you no longer wish to work with that god is a waste of their time and offensive. Be aware of that god's time, and respect it.

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭/𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

Priest and Priestesshood are something I discuss quite a bit on my page, as a priestess myself. They go beyond simply working with a god, and become working for that god. If you're more interested in the topic, you can check out my post on the topic here ♡

•Common Questions•

Can I as a beginner worship multiple gods?

Absolutely. However I don't personally advise it. I suggest starting with one and getting used to worshipping in general. Then you can decide if you feel comfortable worshipping more.

Why don't you recommend using deity identification spreads?

This is a personal preference of mine, and its because I find them incredibly limiting and stiff. Gods are not the same as normal entities and spirits, and identifying them requires a degree of skill and knowledge of of not only your cards but the gods themselves.

Additionally, I find tarot for deity identification incredibly limiting. While it's phenomenal for communication, I believe tarot in combination with lenormand or oracle cards provide a much better understanding of who's around for identifications.

I got a reading that said X god wants to work with me but I don't think I'm ready. What do I do?

Politely decline. It's far better to ask a god to wait or inform them that you're not ready to take that step, than to trudge into something you're bor confident in. The gods are immortal, and our lives are a drop in the bucket to them. They don't mind waiting for when you are ready, if you'll ever be. You dont have to work with or worship every god that shows an interest in you and its not disrespectful to decline an invitation.

This was a long one! But I hope it's helped provide a decent foundation for you to start your own personal journey into hellenic polytheism. Please never hesitate to reach out with questions, and as always, safe travels ♡

ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ᴸᵒʳᵈ ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ, ʷʰᵒ ʰᵃˢ ᵖʳᵒᵛᶦᵈᵉᵈ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃᵗᶠᵒʳᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵗʰᶦⁿᵍˢ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉᵃᶜʰ ᶦⁿ ʰᶦˢ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ. ˣᵃᶦʳᵉ ♡

[starmaidengarden]

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 !

contexts: just some adorable headcanons about the octavinelle boys

— Azul : Jade : Floyd : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. cute headcanons. pt3! Pic: Leo08ph on twt, dividers: uzmacchiato

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ Azul doesn’t just fall in love—he spirals into it as if caught in a whirlpool. At first, he finds himself utterly enchanted by your quick wit and the way your eyes flicker with excitement when you discuss your passions. He admires your fearless spirit, and how you’re not afraid to challenge him, keeping him on his toes.

⭑.ᐟ He'll give you a compliment and then quickly play it down, feeling a bit shy about it. "You look absolutely lovely today," he stammers, his cheeks tinged with a soft blush. “I-I mean, not that you don’t always look great,” he quickly adds, a sheepish grin escaping as he tries to play it cool.

⭑.ᐟ He shows his love in clear and meaningful ways. He carefully organizes your busy schedule, making sure you have time to rest between classes, editing your papers and gives helpful feedback. On relaxed afternoons at the lounge, he buys you free drinks, a simple gesture that warms your heart.

⭑.ᐟ Beyond these everyday acts, he also has a thing for spoiling you with luxurious, thoughtfully chosen gifts—perhaps a rare book by your favorite author or a piece of jewelry that reflects your unique style. Each time he presents these surprises, he downplays their value, pretending they’re no big deal, yet deep down, you know they come from a place of affection and care.

⭑.ᐟ Azul is not openly affectionate in public. He gets flustered easily, and even a simple touch could send his composure crumbling. But in private? He’s incredibly soft. He loves being held, especially when he’s stressed. He’ll melt into your arms after long shifts, nuzzling into your shoulder and sighing deeply. If you run your fingers through his hair, he may just fall asleep there.

⭑.ᐟ His touches are cautious at first: brushing hair from your face, guiding you with a hand on your back. But once he grows comfortable, he loves holding hands, cuddling while reading, and soft kisses—always soft, almost reverent. Azul is old-fashioned when it comes to romance. He’ll offer his arm like a gentleman, open doors, and always insists on paying during dates. He wants to be someone you can rely on—a foundation, not just a lover.

⭑.ᐟ sometimes you doze off on his shoulder while he’s reviewing contracts. He freezes up like he’s just been struck by lightning. His cheeks go bright pink. He doesn’t dare move, even though his arm falls asleep. Instead, he watches over you with a soft, protective gaze, and when you wake up, there’s a blanket on your shoulders and a cup of warm tea waiting for you.

Jade Leech ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ He will quietly appear at your side when you’re overwhelmed, leaning in just enough to soften the moment, and gently say, “Shall we take a walk?” His presence has a calming effect, as if he senses the tension radiating off you

⭑.ᐟ He thrives off reactions. Embarrassed? Flustered? Delicious. He’s always watching—his gaze is everywhere and observant—and a soft smile curls on his lips, as if he knows your next move before you do. He favors subtle touches too. a hand on the small of your back, brushing your fingers as he passes something to you. He enjoys watching your reactions more than the contact itself.

⭑.ᐟ When you throw out a sarcastic remark, he leans in closer, the playful glimmer in his eyes intensifying. “What an amusing little bite you have,” he murmurs, his voice laced with mischief. “Careful, or I might bite back.” (You’re now emotionally ruined for the next half hour.)

⭑.ᐟ If someone else seems interested in you, he won’t interfere directly—he’ll smile politely, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eye. He believes in claiming things without making a scene. You’ll know when he decides you're his.

⭑.ᐟ He playfully jokes around, but he always keeps a watchful eye on you—slightly shifting his demeanor to a more serious tone if he detects even the faintest hint of sadness in your expression, his concern obvious in the way his brows furrow slightly.

⭑.ᐟ Takes you on adventurous dates in the woods, where he excitedly leads the way, so you can “hunt for rare fungi together.” Despite the trail and close calls—you barely avoided a slippery slope down a steep hill—his infectious spirit makes every moment thrilling.

⭑.ᐟ Absolutely teaches you random facts about mushrooms, deep-sea creatures, and poisons like it’s flirting. “Did you know this species can paralyze a person in under 10 seconds? Fascinating, isn’t it?” His tone is infused with charm, as if he’s flirting with knowledge (Comforting??? Maybe???)

⭑.ᐟ Jade doesn’t like being touchy in public. He reserves those moments for when you’re alone: wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, brushing your hair out of your face, or resting his forehead against yours with quiet intimacy.

Floyd Leech ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ Floyd’s mood swings are real—and he doesn’t hide them at all. One minute he’s clingy, leaning into you with an almost desperate affection, his large eyes sparkling with mischief; the next he’s distracted, looking off into the distance as if entirely bored by the world around him.

⭑.ᐟ BUT! You’re the only person who can steady him. No matter how stormy his mood gets, your voice and touch act like a soothing balm, cutting through the chaos. It’s as if you’re his anchor, keeping him grounded in the midst of his emotional storms.

⭑.ᐟ If you manage to tune into his moods and mirror them just right? He will fall SO HARD. You’re not just someone who walks through life with him; you’re his favorite toy, the one he cherishes and plays with endlessly. To him, you’re his “shrimpy,” a term of endearment that makes you feel special and cherished.

⭑.ᐟ Floyd expresses his love through touch, often reaching for you. He’s the type who’ll grab your hand without a second thought, throw his arm around your shoulder possessively, or pick you up effortlessly, spinning you around as if you were a plushie in his grasp. His affection isn’t limited to light touches; he loves giving you squeezes that are more than just hugs. Full-body wraps where he lifts you off the ground entirely, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. “Squeeze time~! Don’t run, Shrimpy~!” he’ll tease, his voice light and playful, making you feel safe and cherished.

⭑.ᐟ When he’s sleepy, that clinging nature intensifies. He’ll tangibly wrap his whole body around you, like a heated blanket, and he’ll pout adorably if you even dare to suggest leaving his side. His sleepy eyes, adorned with long lashes, reflect an almost childlike need for closeness in those moments.

⭑.ᐟ Ask you weird, random questions just to hear your answers or just to hear you laugh. “Hey Shrimpy, if I was a bird, would you still date me?”, he’ll ponder, tilting his head in that adorable way he does. “How many marshmallows do you think I could fit in my mouth at once?” he’ll challenge with a glint of mischief in his eye. (He tests it. You stop him at 11.)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified

A.N: So it's been a while my loves 🩷 Thank you so much for your wonderful support while I wasn't active, and here's a fun and flirty Congressman!Bucky oneshot! I hope you like it, please let me know what you think 🩷 Love you! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Working overtime has its surprising moments.

Word Count: 1917 (like his bday:)

There were many things one could say about working in politics.

It consumed your whole life, for starters. It wasn’t the type of work that you could leave at the office and go home to relax, you had to be informed and ready to work at any hour of the day. It was stressful, it was chaotic, it was insane, but God damn it, you loved the adrenaline rush.

You stormed into Bucky’s office, waving your phone in the air like a flag.

“Bedford Avenue!” you exclaimed. “Bedford Avenue!”

Bucky exchanged glances with Sam who looked as clueless as he was, and turned to you. “Hm?”

“Bedford Avenue!”

“I heard what you said, what’s happening there?”

You grinned and held the phone to your eye level.

“After the news article uncovering the CEO’s donations to the city council member, the construction in Bedford Avenue has been halted—”

“Can I see that?”

“I’m not reading anything, this is a video of cute foxes,” you admitted, turning the screen to him. “I just saw the article on my laptop and rushed here like Paul Revere. I figured it would make me look more professional if I pretended to read it from my phone.”

Sam raised his brows. “You could’ve found the website on your way here?”

“I was in a hurry.”

“You could’ve printed the article out, there are like one hundred computers out there,” Bucky said and both you and Sam turned to look at him better.

“Print it out just to show you?” Sam asked as if he wanted to make sure he heard him right and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, why not?”

You heaved a sigh. “No wonder why we have to get phishing training every week if this is the pace you keep up with the technology.”

“I was born in 1917.”

“And I was in a hurry,” you insisted. “Besides, you can’t judge me for my actions in the past, I put that behind me.”

 “The couple of seconds you spent walking here from your desk doesn’t count as the past, and there’s nothing wrong with printing things out, for the record.”

“I’ll just send you the articles as handwritten letters.”

Sam let out a chuckle and stood up.

“Good job on the Bedford Avenue.”

“Why thank you,” you said with a bright smile and he nodded at Bucky.

“And we’ll see you tonight?”

“Absolutely, tell Sarah I said hi.”

“Will do,” Sam said and walked out of the office while you plopped down on the chair across from Bucky’s desk, your eyes glued to your phone before a laugh escaped your lips.

“Another article,” you said. “This feels better than actually having sex, do you know what this means?”

“I know it doesn’t mean anything good for your boyfriend.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“Shut it—this dude is one of the biggest donors for the opposition. If they shut down the construction, they’ll drag him to court.”

“Seems that way.”

“Which means he will be dragged through the mud and then we’re going to win—” You slapped the coffee table. “Bow down bitches!”

Bucky repressed a smile and you took a deep breath, leaning back on the chair.

“People seem to think his wife is also involved,” you said. “Wouldn’t surprise me if they got a divorce.”

“Are you always this delighted at others’ misfortune?”

“When they’re pouring money to our opposition, yes I am,” you said. “I’ve been competitive ever since I lost that first grade spelling bee.”

“No wonder you didn’t put that on your resume.”

“My point about not being judged for my past,” you told him, making him chuckle.

“Fair.”

“So you’re meeting Sam and Sarah tonight?”

“For dinner, yeah. It’s been a while since I saw Cass and AJ.”

“Aw, they’re the cutest!”

“How about you?” he asked. “Any plans with the uh-with the boyfriend?”

 You pursed your lips, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I did, but he’s too busy for tonight so we postponed it.”

He tilted his head, frowning in confusion and you sat up straighter.

“It’s nothing,” you said. “It’s just, one of the senior partners at the firm he works at, apparently he’s dating an ex-employee so it’s a shit show.”

“Why?”

“Boss and employee. Doesn’t matter how in love they are.”

“You said an ex-employee.”

“Oh yeah, she started working somewhere else a while ago, but it doesn’t matter,” you said. “Ex or not, dating an employee or your boss is like, the worst thing anyone could ever do. It’s business suicide.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” he said. “Yeah that makes sense. Because who would—I mean you’d never.”

You grimaced, thinking about Bucky’s campaign manager who happened to be your boss at the moment.

“I’d start screaming,” you said. “And also, apparently he’s older than her? Which, don’t get me wrong, I love listening to Lana Del Rey as much as anyone but a ten-year age gap?”

Bucky blinked a couple of times, then nodded again.

“Right,” he said. “That’s a lot. That’s a decade.”

“Exactly.” You crossed your fingers and looked up at the ceiling. “I keep Pedro Pascal out of that generalization, universe. I do not care how old he is, he is the exception, send him my way.”

“Do I want to know who he is?”

“Everyone should know who he is,” you told him and checked your phone again. “I need to get to the bottom of this CEO thing, doesn’t hurt to be well-informed.”

“Have you taken a break today?”

“I’ll take a break in DC—” you started but turned your head when the campaign manager knocked on the door, and peeked his head in.

“Hey, got a minute?”

Bucky looked at you as if asking for permission and you jumped on your feet.

“I was just leaving,” you said. “But hey, you owe me one.”

“I owe you plenty,” Bucky said with a small smile that made your heart skip a happy beat and you lingered there for a moment before making your way out of the office, biting back a grin.

*

 Fine, maybe you were a bit of a workaholic but in your defense, the campaign was going so well, so this was the least you could do to make sure Bucky would win.

You repressed a yawn, stealing a look at the city lights shining in the night before turning your attention to the screen, but your head shot up when you noticed someone entering the bullpen. Your stomach did a pleasant flip and you sat up straighter, taking your earbuds out.

“Hey.”

“You’re not going to listen to me if I tell you to go home, are you?” Bucky asked and you stretched out your arms, making a face.

“Nope,” you said. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

“I did, but I forgot something in my office,” he said, leaning back to the empty desk across from yours and you hummed.

“You do realize you could’ve asked someone to bring it to you?”

“I’m not gonna do that,” he said as if the idea was ridiculous before looking around the empty bullpen. It was mostly dark, illuminated by only the light of the screens and the city outside, and you couldn’t help but notice just how handsome—

Objectively, that was.

He was objectively a handsome man.

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daze when you realized he had asked you a question and he shot you a look.

“Did you take a break today?”

“Yeah I stepped outside for five minutes,” you said. “It’s plenty.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “I’m begging you to go home.”

“I will after I’m finished with this.” You gestured at the screen and then snapped your fingers. “Before I forget…”

You grabbed the printed out news article on your desk and handed it to him, making him let out a chuckle.

“Seriously?”

“Mm hm.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“And your speech for tomorrow—the edited version, I printed that out and Caleb took it to your place so that you can go over it after dinner, I know you like adding stuff in the margins,” you said. “You sent a fruit basket and a personal get well soon card to Commissioner Michaels, he had a small accident, nothing important, and also you sent flowers to Ellen Cooper, she wrote that nice article about you and apparently her daughter just graduated college.”

Bucky tilted his head. “I did all that?”

“Well no, I did all that,” you said. “But I can fake your signature and your handwriting, so as far as they’re concerned, it’s from you.”

“How do you do all this?” he asked and you wiggled your brows.

“I’m a genius,” you said and paused for a moment. “My psychiatrist has a different theory but I like mine better.”

 The smile on Bucky’s face was soft, a gentle gleam playing in his piercing blue eyes as he stared at you, then frowned to himself.

“I uh—I got you something.”

You could feel your heart slamming against your ribcage. “I’m sorry?”

He reached into his jacket to pull a tiny fox figure out of his inner pocket, a burst of laughter bubbling in your chest before it spilled from your lips and he put the figure on your desk while you covered your mouth, a warmth dripping in your chest.

“You mentioned you like foxes so…”

You pressed a hand on your chest, smiling wide as you took it to your hand to see it better.

“Aw, thank you!” you said. “You know, I’m gonna adopt a fox one day.”

“I don’t think you can do that.”

“I work in politics, I’ll just bribe a politician or something,” you brushed him off and put the figure on the desk again. “He is so sweet! I’ll call him Bucky.”

 “Please don’t.”

“Buchanan.”

“Also no.”

“I do not take constructive criticism at this point in my life, shut it,” you said, pointing a finger at him and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Fine, fine…” he said and you let out a giggle.

“But seriously, thank you,” you said. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky said with a shrug of his shoulders and you nibbled on your lip, still staring up at him. He held your gaze in his before he took a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

“I should—I should go,” he said and you tried to ignore the disappointment at the pit of your stomach.

“Oh right, tell Sarah and Sam I said hi,” you said. “And kiss Cass and AJ for me.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll send Dave here, he can drive you home when you’re done.”

You shook your head. “Bucky, I can just—”

“You’re not going home by yourself at this hour.”

“I’ll be fine—”

“I won’t because I’ll be worried about you,” he said, making your heart skip a beat. “Please?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Sure,” you said. “See you tomorrow.”

Your eyes followed him as he walked out of the bullpen and you heaved a sigh before taking the fox figure into your hand again, a smile warming your face. You stared at it, then swallowed thickly and put the figure on the desk again.

“Get your shit together,” you muttered to yourself, brushing a hand over your face. “You have stuff to do.”

Chapter 2