#i think it makes it so much more meaningful

[asterafroditis]

𐔌 . ⋮ be my valentine? ♡ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Third Years x gn! reader

𓏵 1026 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcannons, no pronouns used, fluff, a bit ooc(?)

First Years are done! Second Years are done, too! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

I think Cater would act like Valentine’s Day is just another excuse to flood Magicam with cute posts and aesthetic gifts. He’d play it off like it’s all for the fun of it, saying things like “Gotta keep up with the trends, y’know?” But deep down, he actually cares a lot about making the moment special for you.

His gift would be trendy and well-presented, maybe something sweet with a cute aesthetic, but if you look closer, there’s an extra personal touch—something that shows he actually put thought into your tastes. If you bring it up, he’ll wave it off with a playful grin, but there’s a rare moment of sincerity in his eyes.

"Aww, you really think so? Heh, well, I guess I did put a little extra effort into this one. Don’t get used to it, though! You’re just lucky I’m such a generous guy—ahaha!"

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I think Trey wouldn’t make a big fuss about Valentine’s Day, but he’d definitely prepare something nice for you. He’s the type to keep things warm and genuine—no flashy gestures, just something that shows he cares.

His gift would probably be a homemade treat, something classic and comforting. He’d hand it to you with an easygoing smile, acting like it’s nothing special. But if you compliment his effort or say it means a lot to you, you might catch the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks before he clears his throat and chuckles.

"Glad you like it. Don’t go expecting fancy things from me, though—this is just how I show appreciation. Besides, sweets always taste better when they’re shared, right?"

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I think Leona would act like he couldn’t care less about Valentine’s Day. He’d scoff at the idea, calling it a “pointless holiday for lovesick herbivores.” But despite all his complaining, he still finds a way to acknowledge it—just in his own Leona way.

His version of a gift is low-effort on the surface, like tossing a small trinket or snack your way and mumbling, “Here. Don’t ask questions.” But it’s too perfect to be a coincidence—it’s exactly what you wanted or needed. And if you press him about it, he’ll groan, pretending to be annoyed, but his tail flicks behind him in amusement.

"Tch. You’re overthinking it. Just take it and don’t make a big deal out of it… Hah? Smirking at me like that—what, you want me to spell it out for you? Keep dreaming, herbivore."

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I think Vil would treat Valentine’s Day as a day of refined elegance. He’s not interested in cheap, over-commercialized romance, but he does believe in meaningful gestures done correctly. If he gives you a gift, it’s going to be high-quality, well-thought-out, and suited perfectly to your tastes.

He presents it to you with effortless grace, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction. If you gush over it or tell him he’s being too generous, he’ll smirk and tilt his chin up, as if to say “Well, of course.” But there’s something softer in his gaze, something unspoken yet sincere.

"Naturally, only the best will do. Did you really think I’d give you anything less? Hmph. It would be embarrassing if my significant other had poor taste, after all."

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I think Rook would treat Valentine’s Day like a grand performance. He wouldn’t just give you a gift—he’d turn the entire experience into something poetic, dramatic, and entirely him. You’d probably receive a beautifully wrapped present along with a handwritten letter overflowing with romantic prose.

His excitement is impossible to contain, and if you get flustered, he only leans in closer, drinking in your reaction with an adoring smile. There’s no need to question how much he cares—he makes it very clear.

"Ah! The look of delight upon your face is a sight more dazzling than a thousand sunsets! Mon trésor, it brings me endless joy to bestow upon you this humble offering of my affections! Ahaha! Do not look away—your blush is exquisite!"

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I think Idia would panic at the thought of Valentine’s Day. He’d overthink it so much that he’d almost consider ghosting you until it was over. But after an entire night of agonizing over what to do, he’d finally settle on something—probably an item related to your interests, carefully selected after hours of research.

Of course, he’d struggle to actually give it to you. He’d probably send it through Ortho or leave it somewhere with an awkward note. And if you dare bring up how sweet it is, he’ll go into full meltdown mode.

"I-It’s not a big deal, okay?! It’s not like I stayed up all night picking it out or anything—ahaha—oh, Great Seven, this is so cringe, I wanna bury myself alive!"

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I think Malleus would find Valentine’s Day fascinating. It’s a human tradition he’s never properly experienced, but once he learns about it, he takes it very seriously. He approaches it like an ancient ritual—deeply thoughtful, highly ceremonial, and just a little too intense.

His gift is something extravagant—maybe a rare artifact, an ornate piece of jewelry, or something imbued with a hint of his magic. He presents it with all the solemnity of a king bestowing a royal favor. If you tell him he didn’t need to go all out, he looks genuinely puzzled.

"Why would I not? This is a day to express deep affection, is it not? A mere trinket would not suffice for one as precious to me as you."

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I think Lilia would be completely unpredictable about Valentine’s Day. One year, he might go all out with the most extravagant (and mildly terrifying) gestures—singing dramatic love ballads outside your window at 3 AM. The next, he might hand you something utterly chaotic, like homemade food of highly questionable origin.

But beneath all his mischief, there’s sincerity. If he gives you a genuine gift, it’s something deeply personal—maybe an old keepsake with sentimental value or a charm infused with protective magic. And if you call him out on how sweet he’s being, he only grins.

"Fufufu! Did I surprise you? Valentine’s Day is so much fun! Now, come, my dear—shall we dance under the moonlight, or shall I prepare another culinary experiment for you?"

[come-as-you-are-111]

Rooftop Dinner - Choi Seung-Hyun

Project Valentines Day - 3#

Warnings: Nothing! Valentines fluff!

Seunghyun was a man of few words. He wasn’t the type to boast or show off, and grand romantic gestures didn’t come naturally to him. But when it came to you, he found himself making an exception.

Instead of a simple dinner or the usual gifts, he wanted to show you something more meaningful—something that reflected just how much you meant to him.

When you arrived at his place, you didn’t expect much more than a quiet evening. But then he led you upstairs to the rooftop, and your breath caught in your throat.

A private dinner for two awaited, set against the city skyline. Twinkling lights hung above, casting a soft glow on the table that was perfectly set, candles flickering gently in the night. The atmosphere was warm, intimate, and somehow effortless—just like him.

“Seunghyun…” You turned to him, eyes wide. “You did all this?”

He exhaled a soft chuckle. “You act like I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, it’s just… this is perfect.”

He pulled out a chair for you, his expression softer now. “Only the best for you.”

As you ate, he listened intently to every word you said, his attention fully on you. Between bites of food and sips of wine, he would reach across the table, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, his touch lingering.

By the time dessert came—a rich chocolate cake he had insisted on personally picking out—he leaned back in his chair, watching you with that deep, unreadable gaze of his.

“You know,” he murmured, “I don’t care much for Valentine’s Day. But if it means spending the night like this, with you… maybe it’s not so bad.”

You smiled, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Seunghyun.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

And as the city lights twinkled around you, he couldn’t help but think—maybe romance wasn’t so bad after all.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters! How we likey? This is fic 3# of Project Valentines Day 2025! Hope you enjoy!

Love ya, Twilight

Taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

[yuu-kantokusei]

Valentine's Day❤️

First year version

Characters: Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek

TW: cute, fluff, wholesome

♥️Ace Trappola

Ace isn't one for grand romantic gestures, but he also wants to make the day special in his own way. He teases you all morning, pretending to have forgotten about Valentine's Day, only to surprise you with an impromptu date at the Heartslabyul garden.

He smirks, holding out a box behind his back. "Oh? You actually thought I’d forget? How could I, when you’ve been blushing at every couple we passed today?"

Inside the box is a mix of chocolates—some gourmet, some oddly shaped—and a single playing card, the Ace of Hearts, with "Trappola’s Special Valentine" written on it.

"You better treasure that! That card’s got sentimental value, y’know." he says, grinning but looking away slightly, as if embarrassed.

Afterward, he takes you to play some games at the fair stalls set up by different dorms, winning a stuffed animal for you (after losing a few rounds first, much to his frustration). The day ends with Ace casually throwing an arm around your shoulder, laughing at how "lucky" you are to have him.

♠️Deuce Spade

Deuce spends weeks planning for Valentine’s Day, even getting advice from Trey and Riddle. On the big day, he shows up at your door, nervously shifting from foot to foot, holding a carefully wrapped box of homemade chocolates.

“I—I made these myself! Trey-senpai supervised, so they should be good. I hope…”

Inside the box, the chocolates are heart-shaped but slightly uneven, showing how hard he worked on them. There’s also a little handwritten note, written with intense concentration, saying:

"Thank you for being my precious friend. You make my days brighter. Please accept this small gift."

Afterward, he takes you for a motorcycle ride through a scenic route outside the academy, making sure you hold on tightly. At the highest point, they stop and watch the sunset together, his face turning red as he quietly mutters, "I’m really glad we met."

🐺Jack Howl

Jack isn’t one for sappy holidays, but he recognizes that Valentine’s Day is important, so he makes an effort. He finds a small but meaningful gift—a handcrafted leather bracelet with a wolf charm attached, something practical yet symbolic.

When he gives it to you, he scratches his ear, looking away. “This is… uh, something to remind you that I’ve got your back. Always.”

Instead of a traditional date, Jack takes you on a morning jog with him, where they share a quiet but peaceful time together. Later, he surprises you with a picnic under a large tree, bringing some homemade sandwiches and fruit.

As you eat happily, he watches you with a soft expression, muttering under his breath, “You should smile like that more often.”

If you tease him about it, his tail wags despite his flustered protests.

🍎Epel Felmier

Epel, despite his usual complaints about being treated as ‘cute,’ fully embraces the romance of Valentine’s Day. He invites you to a surprise horseback ride around Pomefiore’s flower fields, where he guides you gently through the scenic landscape.

At the end of the ride, he pulls out a small wooden box with a beautifully carved apple pendant inside. "I made this myself," he says proudly. "It’s apple wood from my family’s orchard. So even when you’re not with me, you’ll have a piece of my home with you."

They spend the evening watching the stars, sharing stories from their childhood. At one point, Epel, thinking you have dozed off, whispers softly, “I wish we could spend every Valentine’s like this…”

Little does he know, you heard him and smiled.

⚡️Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek insists that Valentine's Day is an insignificant human tradition, but deep down, he takes it very seriously when it involves you. He prepares a dramatic, formal speech about your “importance” in his life but keeps getting flustered halfway through.

“Ahem! I— I wish to bestow upon you a token of my— No, that’s not right! CURSES!"

Eventually, he simply hands you a carefully wrapped book—a rare edition of a famous knight’s tale. “This story… It’s about loyalty and strength. You remind me of the hero.”

Despite his usual loudness, he spends the day unusually gentle, guiding you through a serene walk near Diasomnia’s quiet gardens. By the end of the day, he clears his throat, trying to look serious.

“You—You are truly exceptional, And… I shall protect you for all eternity!” His face turns red as he abruptly storms off, embarrassed.

[maenefa]

Ok, so if Eowyn wants to die in battle to avoid a worse fate at the hands of the enemy, why is it so easy to miss that??? Why does Tolkien misdirect us?

I could write a whole essay on Tolkien’s love of understatement, of meaningful silence, of “glimpses of untold stories,” but let’s focus on Eowyn for now.

Tolkien creates a suffocating bubble of silence around Eowyn. It’s brilliant and horrible and I love it and I hate it.

Faramir tells Eowyn what he thinks about her motives: “You desired to have the love of the Lord Aragorn…. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle.” And Eowyn doesn’t correct him! She just looks at him silently. And she declares her love for him during this scene.

Eowyn is often described as “frozen” or “cold,” and it’s clear that she has to hide her true feelings a lot of the time. Tolkien REALLY hits us over the head with the silencing of Eowyn in the Houses of Healing, when all the men are staring at her unconscious body and wondering why she was so unhappy. Eomer is positive that her crush on Aragorn was the problem; Aragorn doesn’t want to take the blame. Finally Gandalf speaks up:

“My friend, you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, being born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours.”

And then he says this:

“My lord, if your sister’s love for you, and her will still bent to her duty, had not restrained her lips, you might have heard even such things as these escape them. But who knows what she spoke to the darkness, alone, in the bitter watches of the night, when all her life seemed shrinking, and the walls of her bower closing in about her, a hutch to trammel some wild thing in?”

Gandalf has just made the most openly feminist statement in the novel (aside from Eowyn and her “burned in the house” speech), but he follows it by saying that Eowyn has private thoughts that he cannot or will not explain. It is up to the men to decide if they want to know more. Eomer is deeply struck by Gandalf’s words and silently rethinks his entire life with Eowyn.

And then Aragorn has a truly infuriating bros-before-hoes moment: he breaks the uncomfortable silence by reassuring Eomer that yeah, maybe Eowyn’s crush on him was actually the problem after all. Just a minute earlier, he had denied responsibility for Eowyn’s despair. But he hates to see his friend, his brother in arms, feeling shamed. So he jumps in to rescue Eomer from his negative emotions. And Eowyn is RIGHT THERE, silent and unable to defend herself.

We already know that Aragorn is reluctant to know more about Eowyn’s problems. During their confrontation in Dunharrow, Aragorn dodges all of Eowyn’s attempts to make him see her point of view.

“A time may come soon,” said he, “when none will return. Then there will be need of valour without renown, for none shall remember the deeds that are done in the last defence of your homes. Yet the deeds will not be less valiant because they are unpraised.”

And she answered: “All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honor, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.”

“What do you fear, lady?” he asked.

Neither Aragorn nor Eowyn want to talk about what will happen to her if the enemy wins; this is why there is so much misdirection about Eowyn’s motives! Aragorn glosses over the atrocities that are likely to happen and tells Eowyn she can have a heroic last stand, as a treat. Eowyn is infuriated by his poetic vagueness and spits out this horrifying image of being burned alive—but then she fiercely insists that she is a warrior and fears neither pain nor death. She doesn’t want to perform feminine vulnerability to get Aragorn to listen to her. Eowyn is proud and dignified, which makes it especially painful when she resorts to kneeling and begging Aragorn to let her fight. As she tells Faramir, she desires no man’s pity.

I have to give a shoutout to @balrogballs, who has written about this subject extensively:

The cultural fantasy of the female victim of violence often traps women in an unyielding present tense, positioning them as symbols of sentimentality. These women are objectified and become sites of social intervention, their suffering the focal point of external pity and mourning. The narrative demands their pain be witnessed, but rarely offers a way forward, reducing them to objects for emotional consumption rather than subjects of their own story.

This is exactly what Eowyn is trying to avoid. She wants to be remembered as a hero, not a victim.

Tolkien embroiders this theme very cunningly by having Faramir give Eowyn a cloak that belonged to his mother, Finduilas, who died when he was five. Faramir thinks the cloak is “fitting for the beauty and sadness of Eowyn,” which has a deeper meaning that he probably does not intend. Finduilas is also the name of an elf maiden from the Silmarillion, who was captured by orcs and killed with a spear. In Tolkien’s work, both Finduilases exist mainly to provide tragic backstories for male protagonists. Oh, and Arwen’s name was originally Finduilas as well. To be a Finduilas is to be beautiful and passive, and to die tragically. A fate that Eowyn rages against.

(The Finduilas thing becomes even more absurdly cryptic when you recall that only Tolkien knew about the tragic connotation of the name at the time LotR was published. But he did this kind of thing!!! Recall Elrond and his warning against oaths.)

I have always wondered why Eowyn didn’t challenge Faramir when he informed her that she was suicidal because of Aragorn. Perhaps she simply wanted to put the whole nightmare behind her.

But the most painful silence, to me, involves Theoden. Gandalf reveals that Wormtongue was planning to rape Eowyn, and Theoden says nothing. Eomer grabs his sword and has to be restrained from killing Wormtongue, but Theoden actually offers Wormtongue a second chance to prove his loyalty:

"Do you hear this, Wormtongue?" said Theoden. "This is your choice: to ride with me to war, and let us see in battle whether you are true; or to go now, whither you will. But then, if ever we meet again, I shall not be merciful."

This betrayal of Eowyn happens so fast that it is easy to miss. None of the characters comment on it, and the narrative moves on. There’s something horribly realistic about a powerful man with a beloved image casually offering a second chance to a sexual predator and everyone, including the reader, being unable to process what is happening.

The silences in Eowyn’s story come from the male characters and from Eowyn herself. Theoden and Aragorn want to avoid talking about the type of violence that threatens her, and they ignore her desires. Eowyn doesn’t want to be trauma porn; she resents having to explain herself. And this silence offers readers the freedom to empathize with her, like Eomer, or to fall back on sexist explanations, like Aragorn.

[utilitycaster]

i am so curious what you think about fearne as a character, especially in the full context of this campaign, and how she ranks in terms of contributing good storytelling. she was consistently my least favorite (ie., lovely and entertaining to watch, but not personally interesting or dimensional in a way that made me care, and more often than not, frustratingly avoidant of plot or depth) and i'm wondering how much you'd relate to that. i'm interested in hearing an alternate perspective! this is an invitation for as much of your thoughts as you have them, because i love reading your posts and meta. have a great day <3

Hey anon, thank you!

I find myself in an awkward place here because I do like Fearne for a couple reasons, and I think a major one is because I think Ashley is one of the only people at the table who actually explored, in-character, that Fearne was an indecisive person who was terrified of making the wrong choices (notably during both the aftermath of the first Otohan fight, and during the whole course of Shardgate). Like, Fearne's disconnect at times from the world, and moments of self-centeredness, and indecision all felt very true to Ashley's original concept both in EXU Prime and the general concept of fey morality. I also think that in a campaign with a number of fraught familial relationships that were underserved, Fearne's was, while still not given the time I wish it had been, one of the strongest. Fearne deciding, after meeting her missing parents, that she wasn't sure if she liked them felt very earned and true, and it felt like she put in the work when she later spoke to them during the party's time resting in the Feywild.

I also give Fearne something of a pass because I think she was put in perhaps the least enviable spot of all this campaign, and that's saying something. While I think pretty much every character would have been much, much better had we focused more on their backstory and exploring and resolving that, Ashley's intended darker fairytale concept was just...abandoned. Like we got Ligament Manor and Morri, and they were great! But there was no plot for her in the feywild other than "your parents are caught up in this moon thing, and your birth father is also caught up in this moon thing". The first part came up very early and got quickly overshadowed by the rest of the whole Bassuras pile-up, and the second part came out right before the Ruidus scouting mission and was perhaps one of the worst victims of the late campaign breakneck pacing. Honestly, a lot of the feywild stuff felt oddly insubstantial - we know that breaking the fey key apparently did something, and that breaking up the meeting in Pravenier prevented Fey allies from attacking Vox Machina at the key in the end (though it's hard to say exactly what that would have entailed), but like...was the Seelie Court working in opposition? Were there any extraplanar allies in the Accord? Was the Feywild at risk here, as Ollie believed it to be? Because it never entered into Bells Hells' considerations! All the Feywild plot threads just went nowhere. Even their greatest fey ally, Ira, was far more motivated by his own dislike of Ludinus than any loyalty to Fearne; the party didn't really need to cultivate him as an ally, he just showed up.

And then, of course, there's the fact that Fearne was a Ruidusborn, but she wasn't THE Ruidusborn, she wasn't exaltant, that was Imogen - and the cool thing she did get, the spark of Rau'shan, was a great moment but was, like Ashton's titan abilities, mechanical and some cool scenes only but not relevant to Predathos in a meaningful way any more so than like, Chetney's ability to turn into a wolf was. I don't even think Ashley was being particularly indecisive, or rather, the Zathuda and Yu "should we kill them or no" scenes were excruciating in the lack of decision, but I feel that the problem was she was given absolutely nothing to fucking work with and that's not her fault. I think it's a testament to Ashley's ability as an actor that I do feel she had depth and even a little character development because she was essentially pushed into a thankless second fiddle role. When I think of the people who actually made an effort to do small solo scenes or seek other people out, Fearne praying to the Wildmother or Raven Queen and pickpocketing scenes stand out as bright spots.

So I think it's valid to be frustrated or not vibe, but I think it's entirely a DM-ing problem. This campaign was really not made to accommodate Fearne's concept.

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!

➺ PAIRING | gyutaro shabana x fem!reader.

➺ CONTENT WARNING | a little suggestive towards the end. 0,9k words not proofread

➺ NOTE | happy valentine's day to those who don't celebrate 🧚🏻‍♀️ I wanted this to be a janitor bot at first but I didn't want to 'waste' the idea on a bot :') I'm gonna be honest with y'all, the last few months have been pretty rough. I hate everything I write, and it's only getting worse with time. Im not sure if i'll ever get out of that state of mind at this point but oh well, haha. it is what it is I guesssss

Gyutaro had never cared about Valentine's Day before he met you.

Now, he’s pretty sure it’s his favorite day of the year. Not because he likes the holiday itself—no, he still thinks it’s ridiculous how people cling to shallow gestures and empty words, acting as if love only matters once a year when it’s wrapped in ribbons and chocolate. But you? You made it different. You made it meaningful.

This year, you had insisted on celebrating, saying something about making up for all the years he never got to experience it. Gyutaro had scoffed at the idea, grumbling about how pointless it was. But deep down, a part of him—one he barely admitted to himself—had been looking forward to it for weeks. (Not that he’d ever say it out loud.)

So now here he is, lying on your futon, watching as you carefully set up a tray with all the things you’ve prepared for him. Handmade chocolates, a cup of warm tea, and a tiny wrapped gift.

“You’re spoiling me too much, y'know,” he murmurs, scratching absently at his arm. His nails dig a little too hard into his skin but he barely notices. A small, barely noticeable smirk creeps onto his lips as he tilts his head at you. “Aren’t you worried I’ll start expecting this every year?”

“Maybe that’s my plan,” you tease back, kneeling beside him. Before he can respond, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips, the tender gesture making him freeze.

God. Why'd you have to be so goddamn perfect? He hates it. Hates how easily you manage to drive him crazy with the simplest touch. How badly he wants more. How he's already fighting his own body so that he doesn't pounce on you and take your right here and there on this futon before you even have the chance to go through with the date. He’s pathetic, isn’t he? The thought makes him dig his nails a little deeper into his palm — but before it can get to the point of drawing blood, your hand is on his wrist, gentle as always, guiding his fingers away from his skin.

“Hey. None of that, baby.” you interrupt his train of thoughts, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “No self-loathing allowed on Valentine's day, 'kay?"

Gyutaro immediately looks away and huffs, heat quickly creeping up his neck. Fuck. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much his throat tightens with the need to scream it on top of the roofs. He's not sure why the universe suddenly decided to bless him with a love like yours, but, hell. He isn't about to take it for granted.

With a slightly trembling hand, he plucks one of the chocolates from the tray in front of him and pops it into his mouth, desperately needing to shift the focus off himself.

“You made those yourself? Eh, they're not bad, I guess..." he teases, letting out a quiet hum of approval.

“Not bad?” you gasp. “I spent all evening making these, and all you’ve got for me is ‘not bad’?”

Gyutaro grins, watching the way your lips purse in mock indignation. The way you tease him so effortlessly, like he’s just a guy and not the ugly loser he knows himself to be — it makes something warm stir inside him, his dick hardening and twitching traitorously in his pants. But he ignores it, not wanting to out himself as a complete creep to the girl he loves. Instead, he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly delicate. His fingers brush against your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin beneath them.

“Yeah, alright, fine..." he rolls his eyes playfully. “They’re perfect. Just like you.”

Your eyes widen for a moment, your lips parting and closing again in shock. Then you let out a laugh, tilting your head to press a kiss to the heel of his palm. “Mhm, that’s better.”

“Hey, don’t get all cocky with me now,” His smirk widens, fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s not every day I hand out compliments, y’know. Don't get used to it.”

You squeeze his hand, your fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin. “Well, I guess that just makes them even more special, then.”

Gyutaro doesn’t argue. The truth is, he'll probably shower you with compliments every day after that. He knows it, and he knows you do too.

His heart beats an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He likes this. Likes you.

When you shift closer and tug him into your arms, Gyutaro doesn't resist. He lets you guide his head to rest against your chest and exhales a long breath, his entire body relaxing when your fingers start threading through his messy, tangled hair.

A long silence settles between you then, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He tightens his grip on you, letting his fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes as if that will somehow ground him.

Gyutaro closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest as you kiss the crown of his head. For once, he doesn’t feel like a monster. He doesn’t feel like something broken. He's just... a man, held in the arms of someone who loves him. And for the first time in a long, long time, he thinks that maybe—just maybe—happiness isn’t entirely out of his reach.

[angelackless]

LOVE LETTERS & HEART-SHAPED COOKIES

Jensen Ackles X controversially young!reader

WITH JENSEN EVERYDAY FELT LIKE VALENTINE'S DAY TO YOU. There were always a flower,jewelry, your favorite chocolate's waiting for you somewhere in the house. Jensen loved spoiling you, and he took every chance to do it, but on Valentine's day he wanted to do something more meaningful, since it was your first time celebrating it together.

He even asked for help from his mother, your mother,your friends, even Gen to make sure that what he does is good and you'll love it.

He got everything ready by the time you arrived home, he cooked your favorite food, poured out that red wine he knows you like, lighted some scented candles and had your presents in a bow printed wrapping paper, and one in his jeans, and no, this time it wasn't the one that he makes you feel good with every day.

When you entered the house you were met with the dimly lit house, you took your shoes and coat down, putting it into it's place.

"Jensen?" you walked deeper inside the house "are you home?" instead of an answer you felt two strong arms wrapped around you and for a second you were ready to hit him with your purse in case someone broke in, but then he finally spoke up

"happy Valentine's day, princess" he kissed your cheek

"you scared the shit out of me!' you said and turned around, giving a snack to his chest "don't do that again!"

"Just wanted to suprise you,baby" his hand found their way back to your waist and pulled you closer to him "you had a hard day?I made you your favorite, and after we ate, we can put on some music, dance, you can open your presents" he rubbed your sides "hm?sounds good?"

And you did just that, you two ate the food he made, which was delicious by the way, and then moved to the living room. You went upstairs to get the present you made for him.

''so who starts?'' you asked as you sat down on the couch next to him

"you" he answered smiling

"alright,so it's nothing expensive,but I hope you'll still like it" you said and handed him the wrapped gift. He took it from you and carefully opened the gift, which was a photo album that you've made, you left lyrcs,photos, sweet messages for him in it, you wanted to give him something meaningful and figured he would like this, since it's not fully finished you two can fill it up with all the memories you make in the future. "You like it?'' your words held some excitement, and worry in them as you watched him flip through the pages,sometimes stopping to read what you've written down in there

"Like it?I love it,this is like the best gift i've ever gotten" he looked up to meet your gaze "I love it, princess" he pulled you into a tight hug, kissing your forehead "can't wait to put more pictures in it, we should just have one whole page for you in lingerie" he added with a cheeky smile which made you rolled your eyes

"okay,safe something for your birthday too" you said shaking your head

"oh, that's what i'll get for my birthday?"

"it's a suprise" you answered giggling

"Well,speaking of suprises, open yours now" he handed it to you "hope you like them" he added and watched you open it. You opened it excitedly.

He had gotten you the necklace from Pandora that you've mentioned you wanted, a bottle of your favorite perfume, he knows you need one because you've been complaining that you almost finished the bottle you've been using, there were some heart-shaped cookies he made for you.

"You made this?" you asked staring at the cookies

"Yeah, although Gen helped me with the decorating,but I made everything else"

"I love all of this so much" you wrapped your arms around him tightly "thank you so so much''

"there's one more thing" he pulled away from you and cleared his throat "so...i've been thinking about us, how I now sure that you're the woman that I want to marry, have kids with, move to some small town and live on a farm" he searched for something in his pocket and then he stood up and kneeled down before you ''(y/n), will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?" he asked, holding the shiny, gold ring in his fingers.

For moments you sat there shocked, you didn't know if you wanted to scream or cry from happiness, after seconds of staring at him you managed to nod your head and speak "yes,yes,yes,and yes"

"you got me worried for a second, sweetheart" he slipped the ring on your finger and kissed your hand.

"so that means I can call you my husband now?" You asked smiling

"yes,you can call me your husband, wife" he chuckled and pulled you into a kiss.

You were sure this was your best Valentine's day so far in your whole life.

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭*

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → SMUT!! 18+, language, lingerie?

Summary → Peter buys something special for you as valentine's day gift.

Peter had been thinking about Valentine’s Day for weeks now. Every year, he tried to find something meaningful, something that showed how much he loved you. Last year, a few handwritten letters that took him hours to finish. The year before that, it was a framed picture of the two of you at Coney Island, where he’d first told you he loved you. But this year, he wanted something special. He wanted to make you feel special.

So, after finishing patrol early, he headed to the mall. He already had something in mind. He directly went into the jewellery store. The moment his eyes landed on the pendant, he knew it was perfect: a delicate silver chain with a spider web pendant, simple but elegant, and undeniably you. The web design felt personal, a nod to his double life as Spider-Man, but subtle enough that it wasn’t obvious to anyone else. He could already imagine how it would glint softly around your neck.

As Peter walked out of the jewelry store, satisfied with his choice, something in the corner of his eye made him pause. He blinked and turned his head.

There, in the display window of a lingerie store, was a mannequin wearing a red and black babydoll lingerie set. The colors caught him off guard—his colors. His Spider-Man suit colors. Red and black, with ribbon bow in the front, lace trim and delicate satin that shimmered under the soft lights. Peter could almost see you wearing it, the way the fabric would cling to your body, how it would look on you...

He stopped walking, staring at the display like he was hypnotized. What was he thinking? Lingerie? For you? It wasn’t like you’d never worn it before—you had, and you’d surprised him a few times too—but he’d never thought about buying something like this for you himself. It was always something you did, not him.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck nervously, glancing around the crowded mall like someone might catch him committing a crime. “What am I doing?” He muttered under his breath, but even as he said it, he found himself inching closer to the store window. The thought of you in that lingerie, his colors, was stuck in his mind now. A heat crept up his neck, and before he knew it, his feet had carried him to the entrance of the store.

He hesitated at the doorway, inhaling the floral scent of lavender that wafted through the air. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the shop was much quieter and more peaceful than the bustling mall. Delicate lace, satin, and silk in various shades filled the racks, and Peter suddenly felt way out of his depth.

“Okay, I can do this,” he whispered to himself, forcing his feet to move inside.

As he stood awkwardly in the middle of the store, his eyes darting from one rack to the next, a cheerful voice startled him.

“Can I help you with something, sir?”

Peter whipped his head around, caught off guard. A sales assistant, maybe a few years older than him, stood with a friendly smile, holding a few items she was arranging on a nearby display. Peter felt his face flush.

“Uh, yeah… I, um, was just looking at the, uh…” He pointed vaguely towards the window display. “The red and black set over there.”

The assistant followed his gaze and nodded knowingly. “Great choice! That’s one of our most popular items. Is it for a special occasion?”

Peter coughed nervously, his eyes glued to the floor. “Valentine’s Day… for my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s sweet! I’m sure she’ll love it,” she said, walking toward the display to grab the set. “Let me grab her size. Do you know her measurements?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. Measurements? Right. Measurements.

“Uh… measurements?” He repeated, panic slowly building in his chest. Why hadn’t he thought about this? He knew so much about you, down to the smallest details—your favorite flower, how you liked your pizza, the way you always scrunched up your nose when you concentrated—but lingerie sizes? That was a complete mystery.

Peter scratched the back of his head, feeling heat rush to his cheeks. “I, uh… I don’t know her exact size.”

The sales assistant gave him a reassuring smile, sensing his discomfort. “That’s okay! Do you know her bra size? That might help.”

Peter gulped, trying to remember. He’d seen you in enough bras to have some idea, but he’d never really paid attention to the numbers. “I… think it’s, um… maybe (a size) ? Somewhere around there.” He rubbed his forehead, wishing he could vanish.

The assistant chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, we can work with that. I’ll grab it for you.”

She disappeared into the back of the store, leaving Peter standing alone, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, feeling completely out of place. Why did this feel like one of the most embarrassing moments of his life? And why was he still imagining you in that lingerie?

Moments later, the assistant returned with a neatly folded set in her hands, placing it in a sleek black silk bag. “Here you go. I think this will be perfect for her.”

Peter exhaled, grateful that this part was over. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the bag and heading straight to the register.

As he left the store, his heart still raced, though now it was a mixture of nerves and excitement. He wasn’t sure if you’d laugh at him for buying something like this, or if you’d find it sweet and thoughtful. Maybe both. Either way, he couldn’t wait to see your reaction.

When Peter finally got back to the apartment, he let out a sigh of relief. You weren’t home yet. Good. He quickly opened his closet and shoved the black silk bag under a pile of clothes, burying it deep, just in case you went snooping.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, closing the closet door. “Tomorrow. It’s all about tomorrow.”

Now all he had to do was wait.

----------

You dragged yourself through the front door, your body aching from a long, exhausting day. Kicking off your shoes with a tired groan, you shuffled into the living room, your eyes immediately landing on Peter sprawled out on the couch, watching some random show. Without a second thought, you dropped your bag on the floor and flopped down on top of him, burying your face into his chest as you let out a deep sigh of relief.

"Hey, baby, tired?" Peter asked, his voice soft as he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers gently running up and down your back.

"Mmhmm," you mumbled into his shirt. “You smell nice.”

Peter chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s because I just showered.”

You snuggled deeper into his chest, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him. “I needed this. You’re the best pillow.”

“I try,” he teased, his hand stroking your hair in slow, soothing motions. You could feel the tension of the day melting away, your body relaxing against him.

For a while, you just laid there, enjoying the warmth of his body, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. But as cozy as you were, you knew you had to freshen up. Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up with a sigh. “Alright, I should get changed before I fall asleep right here.”

Peter smiled, watching you with affection as you shuffled to your room. “I’ll get dinner started while you change.”

You flashed him a grateful smile before disappearing down the hall. A few minutes later, you emerged from the bedroom in your comfiest clothes, feeling much more refreshed. As you made your way to the kitchen, you noticed something… off. Peter was standing by the stove, stirring something in a pot, but he was quieter than usual. His movements were a bit jittery, and he kept glancing around like he was distracted.

“You okay, Peter?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he stammered, avoiding eye contact as he quickly stirred the pot a little too enthusiastically.

“O...kay,” you replied slowly, raising an eyebrow at him. Peter was never a great liar, and something was definitely up.

You leaned against the counter, watching him fumble around the kitchen. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Okay, spill it. Did you do something?” Your voice had that playful but warning edge to it, the one you used whenever he was clearly hiding something.

“What? No!” Peter’s eyes widened, and he shook his head, looking like he’d just been caught red-handed.

“Peter…” You crossed your arms, your tone turning more insistent.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck—his classic nervous tell. “Okay, okay, I um I bought your Valentine’s gift, and I can’t wait to show you tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your lips curving into a smile. “Oooo, is it that special?”

Peter’s lips twitched into a confident smirk, his nervousness melting away now that the secret was out. “Uh-huh. You’ll love it, trust me.”

“The way you’re acting all smug makes me think my gift for you is going to lose the battle,” you pouted as you leaned in closer to him.

Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, teasing kiss. “Come on, anything from you is special,” he whispered against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You playfully rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest. “Alright, Mr. Flirt. But if my gift doesn’t wow you, you only have yourself to blame.”

Peter laughed, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

He returned to cooking, but you could still see that mischievous glint in his eyes. Whatever he had planned for tomorrow, it was going to be something special. But for now, you were just content to be here with him, enjoying the calm before whatever surprise awaited you.

-----------

The morning sun poured through the windows as you and Peter strolled into your favorite little breakfast café. The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries filled the air as you both took a seat by the window, the Valentine’s Day mood setting in perfectly. You smiled across the table at Peter, the excitement buzzing in you all morning.

“Is it something I wanted?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee.

Peter smirked, his eyes twinkling as he reached for his cup. “Not really. But patience, Bug.”

“Ugh, Peterrrr,” you groaned dramatically, leaning back in your chair. “You know I’m dying to see what you got me.”

Peter chuckled. “Just a few more hours. It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

After breakfast, you both parted ways for your classes, though your mind kept drifting back to the gift. What could Peter have possibly gotten that made him so smug? The suspense was killing you, and your excitement only grew as the hours passed.

Finally, after classes ended, you and Peter met up at a cozy café near campus. You sipped on your coffee, both of you catching up on your day, but you could barely focus on anything else.

“I can’t wait anymore! What did you get me?” You asked, your voice full of anticipation.

Peter chuckled softly, clearly enjoying dragging this out. “Patience, baby.”

“Parker, I’m serious!” You pouted, giving him a glare.

Peter smiled, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Okay, okay. Just a few more minutes till we reach home.”

As soon as you both stepped through the front door, you were practically buzzing with excitement. You bounced on your heels, looking at Peter expectantly.

“Alright, alright,” Peter laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I got you two gifts.”

“Two?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. “Not fair, Parker. I only got you one!”

Peter shrugged with a grin. “That’s fine. Give me yours first.”

You hurried to the bedroom, grabbing the gift bag you’d carefully prepared, and brought it back to him. Peter's sitting in the living room now. He’s eyes lit up as you handed to him. He reached inside the bag, pulling out the custom-made Star Wars sweatshirt.

“Wow, babe! This is awesome,” he said, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree as he ran his fingers over the design. “I love it.”

But it wasn’t until he pulled out the handwritten letter that his eyes really softened. He looked at you, wide-eyed, his heart clearly touched. “This… this is so sweet. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you said with a smile, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

Peter leaned over and kissed you gently. “I love it.”

“My turn now,” he said, standing up and heading toward the closet. You sat up straighter, your heart racing as Peter came back with two small bags.

He handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box first, and your fingers quickly tore through the wrapping. You gently opened the box, revealing a delicate silver chain with a spider web pendant. Your eyes lit up as you held it up, admiring the intricate design—it was so Peter.

“Peter, this is beautiful!” You gasped, your fingers gently tracing the pendant. Emotion tightened your throat. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

Relief washed over him, and he let out a small sigh. “I’m glad you like it. I just thought—well, you know, since—”

You smiled, cutting him off with a soft kiss. “It’s perfect, babe. Thank you.”

Peter smiled, his eyes warm. “Here, let me.” He took the necklace from you and gently clasped it around your neck, the cool silver resting perfectly against your skin. “There. It looks perfect on you.”

You touched the pendant, feeling your heart swell with affection. “Thank you,” you whispered, giving him another kiss on the cheek.

But then Peter hesitated, holding out a small black silk bag, looking more nervous than you'd seen him in a while. Your curiosity piqued as you took it, untying the delicate ribbon and opening the bag.

Your eyes widened when you saw what was inside—a silky red-and-black lingerie set. His suit's colors. You looked up at Peter, who was biting his lip nervously, his face a little flushed.

“Peter Parker… did you just buy me lingerie? ” You asked, your tone both amused and surprised.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. “Uh, yeah. I saw it and… I don’t know, I thought you’d look amazing in it. I mean, you always do, but—uh, you know.” His words tumbled out awkwardly.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, not at him but at the idea of Peter standing in a lingerie store picking out something like this. The thought was both endearing and unexpected.

You pulled the lingerie out of the bag to admire it. It was delicate, silky, and very… Peter. “Red and black, huh? Your colors?”

Peter chuckled, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Yeah, I guess I couldn’t resist. Do you… like it?”

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought of him stepping out of his comfort zone for this. “I love it. You’re adorable, you know that?”

Peter let out a relieved laugh. “I was so nervous. I didn’t know if you’d think it was weird.”

You shook your head, grinning. “Not weird at all. In fact… I’m impressed. I didn’t think you had it in you to buy something like this.”

Peter chuckled again, still bashful. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek softly. “You’ve got good taste.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah? So you’re not freaked out or anything?”

“Not at all,” you replied with a smirk before excitement took over. “I’m gonna go put it on!”

You ran to your bedroom with a bounce in your step. Peter watched you disappear. He swallowed hard, a nervous laugh escaping him, fidgeting, trying to act casual, but his heart raced faster than when he swung between skyscrapers as he imagined what you’d look like. He had always thought you were stunning, but this… this felt different.

After a few moments, you called out from the bedroom, "Peter, close your eyes!"

He blinked, realizing he’d been staring at the door, waiting in anticipation. "O-okay!" He quickly squeezed his eyes shut, his foot tapping anxiously.

He heard the door creaked open, and then your voice, "Okay, you can open them now."

When Peter opened his eyes, he felt his breath catch in his throat. There you stood, in front of him, wearing the red and black babydoll lingerie. The fabric hugged your body perfectly, accentuating every curve in a way that had Peter's mind reeling. His gaze trailed over you, from the delicate straps on your shoulders, to the way the red lace contrasted against your skin, all the way down to the short hem that barely grazed your thighs.

“Holy…,” Peter whispered, eyes wide, lips parted in awe. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every inch of you screamed perfection, and he felt his body reacting instantly. His jeans felt tighter, and his heart pounded like crazy.

You gave him a playful twirl, showing off how the fabric moved against your skin. “Someone’s excited,” you teased, noticing his boner, his eyes roaming over you like you were the only thing that existed in the world. "So… what do you think, Spidey?"

Peter swallowed hard, his mind struggling to form words. "I… you… wow." He stood up, slowly making his way over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "You look… I don’t even have words for how beautiful you are."

You blushed under his intense gaze, biting your lip. "You sure? You're kind of just staring."

"Yeah," he whispered, his hands hovering near your waist but not quite touching yet. "I can't help it. You look incredible."

His eyes roamed over you again, and you could feel the heat in his gaze. It was like he couldn't decide where to focus—your legs, your chest, your eyes—he wanted to take in every detail. Slowly, his hands moved to your waist, fingers brushing lightly over the soft fabric.

"I’m glad you like it," you teased softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It fits perfectly, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Peter murmured, his hands sliding up your sides now, feeling the lace and satin beneath his fingertips. "And, God, you look even better in it than I imagined." His voice was low, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands now trailing lower, down to the curve of your hips. "You’re perfect," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours lightly.

You laughed softly, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. "Peter, you’re staring again."

"I know," he admitted with a smirk, his hands now gripping your waist firmly, pulling you closer. "Can’t help it. You’re just… I mean, how am I supposed to keep my hands off you when you look like this?"

"Who said you had to?" You whispered, your lips barely brushing his.

That was all the encouragement Peter needed. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger that took your breath away, his hands roaming freely now, exploring every inch of your body. His touch was warm, his grip possessive, as if he wanted to memorize the way you felt beneath his hands.

You gasped against his lips as his hands moved lower, squeezing your ass before sliding up to your waist again. "Peter," you breathed, feeling the heat building between you. His lips moved from yours, trailing down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"You’re driving me crazy," he murmured against your collarbone, his hands gripping the lace at your hips, pulling you flush against him. "You have no idea how hard it is to keep it together right now."

You chuckled softly, running your fingers through his curls. "Then don’t."

Peter’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing as his heated gaze locked onto yours. His hands twitched at his sides, barely holding himself back. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and in one swift motion, he scooped you up effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

You giggled in surprise as he carried you toward the bed, his lips brushing lightly against your neck. Gently, Peter laid you down, his hands caressing your body as his eyes trailed over you, like he was memorizing every detail. His heart pounded, and the desire in his eyes was impossible to hide.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Peter murmured, his voice rough with need as he hovered over you, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a rough, heated kiss. His hands, trembling with urgency, slid over the curve of your waist, down to your hips, his fingers gripping you possessively as if he couldn’t get enough.

You kissed him back eagerly, your fingers threading through his messy curls, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened. Peter’s lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, his kisses hot and fevered, before moving lower, grazing your neck. His lips grew more insistent, and when he found that sensitive spot that made you gasp, he didn’t hesitate to suck hard, leaving a trail of marks in his wake, each one claiming you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“Mmm, Peter,” you breathed out, arching your neck to give him more access. Your hands ran over his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as he worked his mouth down your body.

Peter’s hands moved lower, tugging on the ribbon that held the lingerie together in the middle of your chest. The fabric loosened, exposing your boobs to him. His eyes darkened even more, and without missing a beat, he lowered his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking gently at first before he let his tongue swirl around it. His other hand moved to your other boob, squeezing and massaging it, his thumb brushing over your sensitive skin.

“Peter…” you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair as the pleasure rippled through you. The feeling of his hot mouth and strong hands on your body was overwhelming, in the best way possible.

Peter groaned against your skin, loving every sound you made. “You're so soft,” he muttered between kisses, his voice deep and full of raw emotion. He switched to your other boob, lavishing it with just as much attention, his lips sucking and biting gently, making you shiver beneath him.

Your back arched off the bed, your breathing coming out in ragged gasps as Peter continued his assault on your senses. He was relentless, his hands roaming over your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me,” Peter growled softly, his lips brushing against your collarbone as his hands moved lower, tracing the curves of your hips. “I’ve been thinking about this… about you… all day.”

You moaned in response, your body on fire from his touch. “Peter… please…” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed more—more of him, more of everything.

Peter grinned against your skin. With a gentle yet confident movement, he slipped his hand under your babydoll lingerie, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped softly, feeling his fingertips trace the curves of your body with a slow, deliberate reverence. As he tugged your thong down, a rush of excitement coursed through you, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Peter,” you breathed, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and desire.

He grinned against your skin, sensing your need. “Patience, baby,” he teased, his voice low and teasing as his hands continued exploring. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his warmth enveloping you, making you melt against him, craving more of his touch. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his words a promise. You shivered at the thought, knowing Peter wouldn’t stop until you were completely undone.

Then, as if sensing your desire, he began to trail kisses down your body, moving lower and lower. The sensation of his lips against your skin made your breath hitch. When he finally reached your most sensitive spot, he paused for a moment, looking up at you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. Before you could respond, he dove in, his mouth capturing you in a way that made your back arch and your fingers tangle in his hair.

Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but gasp, your body reacting instinctively to his every move. “Peter… oh my god,” you moaned, the sensations overwhelming yet intoxicating.

He expertly teased you, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer movements that had you losing track of time. As he continued to work his mouth against you, you felt one of his fingers slip between your folds, teasingly tracing your entrance.

“Peter…” you gasped, your breath hitching at the new sensation. He looked up at you with a smirk, and then he slowly pushed a finger inside you, filling you completely. You gasped at the stretch, a mix of pleasure and intensity flooding your senses.

He began to move his finger in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue as he lavished attention on your most sensitive spot. The dual sensations were overwhelming, drawing soft moans from your lips. “Just like that,” you encouraged, your voice shaky with pleasure.

Peter added another finger, stretching you deliciously as he worked to find that perfect spot inside you. Each thrust of his fingers, combined with the swirling of his tongue, sent you spiraling closer to the edge. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, tightening with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a determined glint in his eye, Peter picked up the pace, his fingers curling and pressing deep within you while his mouth continued its teasing work. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the pleasure building within you.

Finally, with one last wave of his skilled mouth and fingers, you felt the tension snap. “Peter!” You cried out, your body arching as you succumbed to the bliss of your release, waves of pleasure washing over you.

Peter lingered for a moment longer, his fingers still moving gently inside you as you came down from your high, the warmth of his body grounding you. He watched your trembling form with a smug grin, clearly pleased with himself, his gaze full of satisfaction. Slowly, he pulled out his fingers, leaving you breathless and dazed, completely captivated by the intensity of what had just happened.

But as he stood up, his eyes still locked on yours, your heart began to race again. You watched, mesmerized, as he stripped off his clothes, each piece falling away with deliberate slowness, sending a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through your veins. The room felt electric, the heat between you two growing once more.

He stood before you, his body beautifully sculpted, muscles glistening in the soft light. You couldn't help but admire him—his lean frame, the way his skin looked almost flawless, and the sight of his tip, red and aching for you. The raw need in his gaze made your breath hitch again, the air thick with desire.

Peter caught you staring, a playful smirk crossing his lips as he climbed back onto the bed. He reached for a condom, tearing open the package with a quick, practiced motion before rolling it onto himself. The sight sent another wave of heat through you.

“Ready for me, baby?” He whispered, hovering over you once more, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, tantalizing kiss. The taste of you lingered on your lips as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his desire into the moment.

When he pulled back slightly, his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of affection and lust swirling within them. “I want to make you feel amazing,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

Without breaking eye contact, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip of his cock. You could feel the heat radiating from him, your body instinctively arching against him, craving his fullness.

In one smooth motion, he pushed inside you, his movements confident and assured. The sensation was blissful, your bodies fitting together perfectly as he filled you completely. You gasped at the sudden stretch, feeling utterly consumed by him.

“Fuck, Peter,” you breathed, your body welcoming him, the familiar pleasure sparking to life within you.

He began to move, his thrusts steady and deep, every push sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. You felt alive, completely lost in the moment, your body responding eagerly to his every move.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, your hands gripping his shoulders as he established a rhythm, driving you both higher and higher. Each thrust felt electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. You could see the determination etched on his face, the way his brows furrowed in concentration mixed with pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice a mixture of awe and need.

You locked your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as you met each thrust with your own movements, eager to take him fully. Your breaths mingled, and the sounds of skin against skin filled the room, creating a symphony of passion.

Peter’s lips found yours again, and you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in him completely. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the bliss you were both creating, the connection that bound you together in this moment.

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge once more. You could feel the pressure building within you, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Peter… I’m so close,” you gasped, feeling the familiar tension coiling within you.

“Just a little more,” he urged, his voice husky with desire as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. “I want to feel you come for me again.”

With that, the heat inside you peaked, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink. “I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your body trembling in anticipation.

“Then let go for me,” he commanded softly, his breath hot against your ear as he thrust deeply once more.

With a final push, you let yourself fall over the edge, your body shuddering as pleasure consumed you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. “Peter!” You cried out, the bliss flooding your senses as you surrendered completely to the moment.

As you rode out your orgasm, you felt Peter’s rhythm falter, his body responding to your release. With a few more deep thrusts, he followed you into bliss, groaning your name as he found his release, the two of you lost in each other.

Peter collapsed on you, face buried in the crook of your neck, his warm body melting against yours as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through you both. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

After a moment, he pulled out slowly, and you couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden emptiness. The sensation lingered, a bittersweet reminder of how perfectly he had filled you just moments before. You looked over at him, still in your babydoll lingerie, and found him gazing at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

Peter discarded the condom, tossing it into the nearby trash before laying beside you, his eyes softening. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you softly. The kiss was gentle, filled with sweetness and intimacy, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment that had just passed.

You smiled against his lips, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the physical connection you had just shared. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Peter,” you replied, your heart fluttering at the tenderness in his voice.

He pulled back slightly, still holding your gaze. “I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate,” he said, a teasing grin breaking through the softness. You laughed softly, feeling giddy and cherished.

“You really know how to make me feel special,” you replied, playfully nudging him.

“You deserve it,” he said, his expression turning sincere as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re everything to me, you know that?”

Your heart swelled at his words, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. “You too,” you said softly, leaning in to capture his lips in another tender kiss.

As you settled into the post-bliss afterglow, you felt a comforting warmth spread between you, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a soft blanket. You nestled into his side, feeling safe and loved, your heart full.

Peter wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer as you both basked in the glow of your shared affection. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, perfectly content in each other's presence.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, his voice low and warm.

You pondered for a moment, considering the possibilities. “Maybe we could watch a movie or just stay here and cuddle?”

“We can do both,” he replied, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I like that,” with that, you both settled into a comfortable silence.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪

[yara0546]

hey<3 can u do how dreamies would celebrate V'Day with their s/o?

Nct dream reaction | celebrating Valentine's Day together

Pairing: nct dream x reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, relationship.

Note : English is not my first language, so I apologize if there are any grammatical errors, because I sometimes use a translator in some sentences.

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Mark

Mark is the type to go all out but in the most genuine way. He'd show up at your place with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a small box of chocolates, and a nervous smile.

"Hey, uhm… Happy Valentine’s Day! I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just… got everything?" He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You laugh, pulling him into a hug. "Mark, this is perfect."

You both spend the evening at a cozy café, talking about everything and nothing, his fingers occasionally brushing against yours as he shyly reaches for your hand.

Renjun

Renjun would pretend he doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day but still ends up planning something meaningful. He surprises you with a painting he made one that captures a beautiful moment you shared.

"I mean, it’s not a big deal or anything… but I thought you might like it," he says, avoiding eye contact as he hands it to you.

Your eyes widen. "Renjun, this is amazing! You remembered that day?"

He smirks, crossing his arms. "Of course, I did. I remember everything about you."

You melt on the spot.

Jeno

Jeno doesn’t say much, but his actions scream love. He picks you up on his motorcycle, handing you a helmet. "Come with me. I have a surprise."

He takes you to a quiet hilltop overlooking the city, where he’s set up a small picnic. You sit beside him, leaning into his warmth as he gently intertwines his fingers with yours.

"I’m not great with words, but… I just want you to know that you’re really special to me," he says softly.

You smile, squeezing his hand. "I know, Jeno. I feel the same way."

Haechan

Haechan would tease you all day, pretending he forgot about Valentine's. He acts completely normal, making you pout.

"Wait, today’s special? Why? Your birthday isn’t until…" he trails off, grinning as you glare at him.

But later, he surprises you with a candlelit dinner he prepared himself. As you take a bite, he watches you expectantly.

"I might have burned the first batch, but this one’s good, right?"

You giggle. "It’s perfect, Hyuck."

"Just like us," he winks, making you roll your eyes but blush anyway.

Jaemin

Jaemin is all about affection, so expect a day full of cuddles, sweet whispers, and small surprises. He appears at your door with a giant teddy bear.

"So, this is my stand in when I’m not around," he jokes, hugging you tightly.

He takes you to an amusement park, where he wins you a bunch of prizes. At the Ferris wheel's highest point, he looks at you with that signature soft gaze.

"You know… I think I love you."

Your breath catches, and you whisper back, "I think I love you too."

He grins, pulling you closer.

Chenle

Chenle would turn Valentine’s Day into something fun. Instead of a traditional date, he surprises you with an arcade challenge.

"If I win more tickets, you owe me boba!" he declares.

You playfully nudge him. "And if I win?"

He smirks. "Then I’ll buy you whatever you want."

After a day of laughter, he hands you a bracelet. "I saw this and thought it’d look good on you."

You smile, slipping it on. "Thank you, Chenle."

"Anything for my favorite person," he winks.

Jisung

Jisung would be super nervous but determined to make the day special. He’d shyly hand you a heart-shaped box.

"I… I made these chocolates. I hope they’re okay."

You take a bite and smile. "Jisung, these are delicious!"

His ears turn red. "Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t like them."

You giggle, hugging him. "You’re adorable."

He buries his face in his hands. "Stop, you’re making me more nervous!"

But deep down, he’s happy you loved his gift.

[copperbadge]

A full explanation for "crazy like mayonnaise", now that Sanremo is over:

The full line in Italian is actually se mi trascuri impazzisco come maionese, which is translated as "if you neglect me I'll go crazy like mayonnaise". I initially read this as using "crazy like mayonnaise" idiomatically. Which was very funny to us because mayonnaise in America is considered very boring and basic, the very opposite of anything crazy.

But thanks to the lovely Italian speakers in notes, I understood that when you're making mayonnaise and you fuck it up, it "goes crazy" -- in English we might say it 'breaks' because it doesn't emulsify properly.

So what the song is actually saying is that "I will go crazy if you neglect me, the same as mayonnaise does if you don't pay attention while making it." Which is the much more logical way to interpret it. I think a more meaningful translation into English would be "if you neglect me I'll break like a bechamel sauce".

Anyway so....Olly huh? How we feeling about this, Eurovision fans?

Italians, I am watching Sanremo and Coma_Cose just performed a charming song called Cuoricini, but I was trying to see if I'd heard the Italian correctly and looked up the Italian lyrics with an English side by side translation and....

Okay, does impazzisco come maionese actually mean "I'll go crazy like mayonnaise" and further, is "crazy like mayonnaise" an idiom in Italian? And if it is, I'm dying to know why. Google is suggesting it's because mayonnaise is very unexpected in Italy, so it's crazy when it shows up, but I can't confirm.

In any case I suspect "crazy like mayonnaise" is about to enter my personal lexicon.

[flawseer]

Hey Flawseer, love your art. I wanted to ask if you have any headcanons for some of the supporting characters who aren't really tied to the school, like Chameleon, Icicle, Hailstorm, etc.

Headcanons for specifically those characters? Hm...

This isn't really a headcanon, more of a "this is implied but not outright stated" kind of thing, but Chameleon's childhood was the stuff of nightmares. He hatched with a physical deformity that prevented him from sleeping more than an hour at a time. Think about what that would be like, to never be able to rest, to be tired and exhausted every day.

Child Chameleon is also an interesting window into the darker aspects of Rainwing society. The books often portray their society as idyllic, something pure and optimistic, something to aspire to. But then they had this kid who was suffering in his body, who didn't develop the expected Rainwing traits properly, and they shunned him. Even sweet, lovable, couldn't-hurt-anyone Jambu calls him weird and off-putting for not being able to change colors. We don't know why Chameleon ended up exiled; maybe it was a malicious act or maybe Chameleon lashed out and had to be removed for being dangerous. But it definitely makes you wonder if there are any other skeletons in the Rainwings' closet.

None of this excuses any of the stunts he pulled later as an adult, especially not the emotional manipulation of his daughter. But thinking about his crappy childhood may help you understand how he ended up the way he did. I hope he can find some help.

Here's a picture of him I drew once. He probably has an official design by now, I don't know.

As for headcanons about Chameleon... I think he eats meat. His biology isn't really wired for it, so it tastes absolutely disgusting to him. But he does it anyway, because while he hates the taste of meat so much, he hates the idea of being a Rainwing several times more. So he puts up with it because he knows it is the least Rainwing-like thing you can do. In a strange way, it helps him cope.

For Icicle, I think it is interesting to note that we technically never see her under normal circumstances. She appears in Jade Mountain in book 6 and certainly leaves an impression, but it's easy to forget that everything she does, she does with the awareness that Scarlet currently has a proverbial knife to her brother's throat. Thus, we never get to see what present day Icicle is like when she is able to relax.

Headcanons... The books aren't clear on how or when Scarlet made first contact with her. It could have been in school, as Moonwatcher overhears. Personally, I think Scarlet actually contacted Icicle months prior to the school opening, and instructed Icicle to insert herself as a sleeper agent. I have trouble believing that immaculate Icicle would WANT to be cooped up underground in a dirty cave with a bunch of strangers several miles from home. I think Scarlet made her do it, and she then begged Queen Glacier to send her there, knowing full well she was gonna hate it. Winter then overheard her begging and begged to come along too.

This lends weight to the scene where Icicle finally breaks down in front of Winter. The part where she's her authentic self for the first time, crying and begging Winter not to let her fall asleep so the woman who has been tormenting her inside her own head for months can't tell her that she failed and that her brother is dead.

In the end, her brother is alive. But in trying to get him free, Icicle ruined her own life.

This one might be controversial, I don't know. While I do think Icicle served in the war, and she did definitely kill Mudwings while doing so, I don't think Icicle is the one who killed Crane. Sora insists it was her, but Umber and Marsh do not recognize her, and Mudwing siblings usually fight together, so they would have both been present during her death too.

I think the story becomes more meaningful if the trauma of war just ruined Sora to such an extent that she sees her sister's killer in every somewhat outspoken female Icewing. Then she ran into the library and confirmation-biased herself into believing her hunch by reading unverified essays on Icewing genetics. You know, the same library whose references on Mudwing physiology consist entirely of The Slug-like Qualities of the Mudwings. If Wisemind penned an examination of Icewing physiology too, one can probably imagine how reliable that one would be.

This kind of turns Sora and Icicle into tragic parallels. They are both children born into a war that took their innocence from them, and in the end it ruined them both.

For Hailstorm, I believe after the battle of Jade Mountain ended and Winter got banished, Hailstorm went back to the Ice Kingdom and lived with his mother Tundra for a while. Tundra took the death of her mate very badly and became embittered. She blamed everything bad that happened to their family on Winter, insisted that Winter caused the family to rot. Winter killed the Queen, Winter killed Narwhal, Winter, Winter, Winter, she should have smashed his egg when she had the chance. Hailstorm tried to get her out of the house, to stop talking and thinking about Winter, but nothing worked. She just had her mind set on hating this kid she'd been abusing since his hatching, insisting she gave him the world and he was ungrateful.

Eventually, Hailstorm just couldn't take this constant bleakness and hatred anymore. A few months ago Icewing tradition almost made him kill his little brother and he is just done with the Ice Kingdom. Completely disillusioned. Leave it all behind.

So he goes to Winter, and he starts to ask odd questions, like "If you had never found a way to turn me back from being Pyrite, would you still have loved me", and "If I was a Skywing, would you disown me?" Winter assures him that he will always love him, but starts to get worried about the questions.

Eventually, Hailstorm just flat-out states that he was actually kind of happy with himself as a female Skywing, not having to think about their messed up family and the stupid rankings all the time. He kept thinking about it through their mother's ramblings, how he felt in that body. He's figured out that he wants to go back to being Pyrite, just obviously without the brainwash-y parts. Winter doesn't entirely understand, but wants his brother/sister to be happy, and gives him/her his blessing.

And I guess there you have it. Some of my headcanons. Chameleon the meat eater, the absolute train-wreck that is Icicle's life with a side of Sora, and Hailstorm finds self-affirmation in exploring their gender identity after cutting their toxic mom out of their life.

[criticalcrusherbot]

Compassionate Questioning: A Gentle Push for Antis to Touch Some Grass

By….Human Assistant?? 💁🏽‍♀️🤠

💁🏽‍♀️: Shhhh 🤫 Crushbot is sleeping 🤖😴

Let’s be real—bad-faith critics aren’t interested in genuine debate. No matter how well you explain something, they’re not really listening. Their goal isn’t understanding, it’s winning. But after chatting with a psychologist friend of mine, I’ve started reshaping how I approach these interactions.

So, what if, instead of banging our heads against the wall, we tried two different things?

1. Recognize when someone isn’t actually interested in conversation and stop wasting our breath.

2. Use some empathetic questioning to get them to focus on the real issue: their borderline obsessive hatred of a cartoon about gay demon furries.

Because let’s be honest—most of these arguments aren’t about Helluva Boss itself. They’re about discomfort with its themes, biases against certain character types, or straight-up projection. So let’s break down some common criticisms and respond with some therapist-style questioning to (gently) expose what’s really going on.

1. “Stolas is just an ‘uwu boy’ to excuse his toxic behavior.”

💁🏽‍♀️: “That’s an interesting take! What makes you feel that his vulnerability is being used as an excuse rather than a character trait? Do you think a character can be both flawed and emotionally complex?”

Translation: Are you mad that Stolas has emotions, or are you mad that people like him despite his flaws?

A lot of people act like a sympathetic portrayal = automatic forgiveness, but that’s just not how storytelling works. Maybe the issue isn’t that the show “excuses” Stolas, but that it refuses to dehumanize him for making bad choices.

2. “Blitz doesn’t deserve a redemption arc, he’s awful to everyone.”

💁🏽‍♀️: “What does ‘deserve’ mean to you in this context? Do you think redemption arcs are only for characters who are already likable? If so, how do you feel about villains who get redemption arcs in other media?”

Translation: Are you this mad when other messy, morally gray characters get growth, or is it just Blitz?

People say they want complex characters but balk when those characters aren’t immediately lovable. A redemption arc isn’t about excusing past behavior—it’s about showing how someone changes.

3. “The show focuses too much on romance instead of being a fun comedy.”

💁🏽‍♀️: “That’s fair! Expectations shape how we experience a show. Do you think the issue is that romance exists, or that it’s not executed the way you personally prefer? How do you feel about comedies that mix romance with drama?”

Translation: Is the problem the existence of romance, or that you don’t like the way this show does it?

Helluva Boss has always been planting seeds of character-driven drama. Expecting it to stay a gag-a-minute comedy was bound to leave you disappointed.

4. “Loona has no real character development—she’s just a bitch who yells a lot.”

💁🏽‍♀️: “That’s interesting! What does meaningful character development look like to you? Do you think male characters with similar traits get the same criticism, or do they get more leeway?”

Translation: Why is Loona the problem, but not Blitz, Mammon, or literally any other loud, abrasive character in the show?

This critique isn’t new—it’s the same double standard that follows female characters in Helluva Boss in general. People say the female cast is either “too weak” (Octavia, Verosika) or “too aggressive” (Loona, Stella), but the moment a woman gets actual nuance (Octavia, anyone?) suddenly it’s “bad writing.” Maybe the issue isn’t the writing—maybe some people just don’t like female characters unless they fit a narrow, palatable mold.

5. “Fizz got retconned into a useless twink. He used to be cool.”

💁🏽‍♀️: “What specifically makes you feel that Fizz’s character was ‘retconned’? Do you think your perception of him in Season 1 was fully accurate, or just based on limited information? Do you believe a character needs to be physically strong to be compelling?”

Translation: Why do you feel personally betrayed that Fizz turned out to be… a disabled theater kid?

The real issue here is that people projected a completely different personality onto Fizz based on his Ozzie’s cameo and then got mad when the show revealed that, shocker, he’s a whole person with vulnerabilities. The funniest part? A lot of these complaints come from people who claim to be “progressive” yet have no problem calling a visibly disabled character a “useless twink” the moment he stops being an edgelord in their heads.

6. “This show is garbage and Viv is a terrible writer.”

💁🏽‍♀️: “That’s a strong reaction! What keeps you so invested in something you dislike? Do you think this much frustration over a cartoon is a productive use of your time and energy? Would you feel happier focusing on something you actually enjoy?”

Translation: Babe, why are you still here?

This is where a lot of anti-Helluva Boss people need to take a step back. If you genuinely think a show is that awful, why not just… move on? If you’ve made hating it part of your personality, that’s not media critique—that’s weirdly personal. Maybe the issue isn’t the show, but the fact that you’ve sunk so much time into something you refuse to let go of.

Final Thoughts: Don’t Fight—Redirect

The key here isn’t to get into an endless argument with people who refuse to engage. It’s to either:

1. Get them to reflect on what they’re actually mad about.

2. Make it painfully obvious to onlookers that their argument is weak and rooted in bias.

So next time you see someone foaming at the mouth about Helluva Boss, try hitting them with some gentle, leading questions. Either they start thinking critically, or they spiral into incoherence. Either way, you win.

[corseque]

girl have you seen the datamined cut conversations from Veilguard that have Rook and Solas discuss Rook's regrets in a way that's actually thematically appropriate and cohesive? They're well written! they're in the Hallelujah cadence! Rook actually gets to express real internal conflict! The regret theme of veilguard was weaksauce, but it makes me sooo insane that it looks like the choice to actively discourage the player from engaging with the core theme in any meaningful way was, by the looks of it, some kind of corporate overlord decision. i am frothing at the mouth

I despise Rook so much that it's actually painful to think about, and I don't care at all about their '"'''"potential'"""''""" because I just hate so much with flames on the sides of my face, so I'm sorry I can't muster up more enthusiasm.

the only thing that I like here is Solas doing the Socratic Method

[airandyeah]

The Weakest, For You

Valentine’s Day had always been a bit of a joke to Gojo Satoru. A self-proclaimed "Strongest sorcerer," he didn’t exactly have the time or energy for the fluffy traditions of love, flowers, or chocolates. He had too much going on—fighting curses, teaching students, and saving the world to be bothered by something as frivolous as a holiday dedicated to love.

But then… she happened.

Y/N had completely turned his world upside down, and for the first time in a long while, Gojo found himself thinking about more than just the next fight, the next challenge, or the next mission. He thought about her smile, the way her presence seemed to calm the chaotic storm that was his life. How the sight of her eyes lighting up in excitement or laughter made him feel something he couldn’t describe.

So, when Valentine’s Day came around, Gojo knew he couldn’t just let it pass. He couldn’t be the carefree, aloof sorcerer he always was this time. For her, he wanted to show her that he cared, in a way that felt right for both of them.

The morning of Valentine’s Day, Gojo woke up early. He wasn’t one to wake up with the sun, but today felt different. The feeling was both thrilling and strange. After all, what did he know about doing something normal for someone special?

He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his blindfold, wondering if this was all just a little ridiculous. He was Gojo Satoru—the strongest, the untouchable. Surely, he didn’t need to do all this, right?

But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his mind wandered to Y/N—the way she’d laugh at his jokes, or how she’d look at him with that smile that melted his heart every time. That was all the answer he needed. He couldn’t just keep being the same old showoff who didn’t care about the little things. For her, he had to step outside his comfort zone.

In the end, Gojo settled on something simple but meaningful. A bouquet of wildflowers—her favorite—and a box of artisan chocolates, the kind that was crafted with care. No flashy, over-the-top gestures like the ones he usually pulled, just something genuine.

With a confident grin, he grabbed the bouquet and chocolates, ready to make it a day she would never forget.

Later that afternoon, Y/N had agreed to meet him at their usual spot—a quiet café tucked away in the corner of the city. She had no idea what to expect from Gojo on Valentine’s Day, and in truth, neither did he. But that only made it more exciting. As always, Gojo was the one who liked to keep things spontaneous, so he was eager to see how it all unfolded.

When she walked into the café, her eyes immediately found him. As usual, he was sitting with that laid-back posture of his, legs stretched out, leaning back in the chair as if the world was his playground. His usual cocky grin was there, but this time, there was something different about him. He seemed more… patient, for lack of a better word.

He waved her over, his usual theatrics on full display. “Hey, beautiful. I got you something.” He pointed to the bouquet of wildflowers and the box of chocolates sitting on the table, his expression as playful as ever.

Y/N blinked in surprise, taken aback by the thoughtful gesture. “Gojo, you… you actually got me flowers?”

He smirked, leaning forward as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “I told you I’m full of surprises.” He handed her the flowers, his voice softening for a moment. “You deserve this.”

She reached out to take the bouquet, her fingers brushing his as she did. “Gojo…” She felt a warmth spread through her chest as she looked at him, noticing how his usual teasing nature was replaced with something more sincere. “This is… really sweet of you.”

“Yeah, well, I guess even the strongest guy around has to know when to show a little bit of heart,” he said, a rare hint of seriousness in his tone. His blindfolded eyes softened as he glanced at her. “I mean it. I don’t think I’ve ever cared about anything the way I care about you. I'm weak for you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t remember the last time Gojo had spoken so openly, so earnestly. He had always been larger than life, always full of energy and jokes, but there were times, like now, when she saw the true depth of who he was beneath the layers of bravado.

“Gojo…” she started, her voice soft, unsure of how to express everything she was feeling. She wanted to say something about how he made her feel, how he’d changed her world, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.

With a playful grin, Gojo slid the box of chocolates toward her. “I mean, what’s Valentine’s Day without a little chocolate, right? But you’ll have to share, because I’m not gonna let you eat them all by yourself.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over her. “I’ll share, but only because you got me flowers.”

“That’s the spirit,” Gojo said with a wink, his usual cocky smile returning. But there was still that undercurrent of sincerity in his eyes, something real.

They sat there together for the rest of the afternoon, sharing chocolates, laughing over stories, and simply enjoying each other’s company. In that moment, Gojo wasn’t the all-powerful sorcerer, the untouchable legend. He was just a man who had fallen for someone, and who, in his own unique way, wanted to show her how much she meant to him.

As they parted ways later that evening, Gojo leaned in, giving her a soft, lingering kiss on the cheek. "Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N," he said quietly, his tone more serious than usual.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gojo.” Y/N smiled, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

Gojo watched her walk away, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. For all the battles he had fought, all the powerful opponents he had faced, it was moments like this—simple, genuine moments—that meant the most. ~~~ 2 years had passed since Gojo Satoru’s Valentine’s Day surprise—the flowers, the chocolates, and the rare glimpse of vulnerability beneath his ever-present swagger. That day had marked a turning point in their relationship, and now, 2 years later, it was clear to anyone who saw them together: Gojo Satoru was no longer just the strongest sorcerer. He was her husband, and nothing—no curse, no danger—could change that.

Valentine’s Day had become an annual tradition for them, but this year, Satoru found himself thinking about it more than usual. Perhaps it was because their marriage had grown even stronger with time, or maybe because he wanted to give her something truly special—something beyond the usual antics. After all, she was his equal, his partner, the one person who saw past his flashy exterior to the person he had become with her by his side.

That morning, the sun streamed through the bedroom window, casting a soft glow over their shared space. Satoru was already awake, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, he lay there, watching the love of his life sleep peacefully beside him. Her soft breathing and the slight rise and fall of her chest filled the room with a comforting peace.

He reached out and gently ran a finger through her hair, brushing it away from her face. He couldn’t help but smile. She’s everything.

As the clock ticked on, he quietly got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He had a plan, and it didn’t involve the usual spontaneous, over-the-top surprises. This year, he wanted to make it special—calm, intimate, and perfect for the woman he loved.

When she finally woke up, she was greeted by the warm smell of fresh pancakes and the sound of Satoru humming softly to himself in the kitchen. She smiled sleepily to herself, knowing that no matter how chaotic his life was, he always found a way to make their mornings feel like something out of a dream.

She slipped out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where Satoru was standing in front of the stove, wearing one of his usual cocky grins.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he teased, turning to flash her his trademark wink.

“Good morning, husband,” she replied with a smile, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed.

Satoru placed a plate of pancakes on the counter and turned to face her. His gaze softened as he took in the sight of her—his wife, the woman who had stood by him through everything. He leaned against the counter, his voice taking on a serious note that she hadn’t heard in a while.

“You know,” he began, “sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am. A lot of people think I’m invincible, but the truth is, I’ve never felt more... grounded than I do when I’m with you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I’m the lucky one, Toru. You’ve made every day we’ve spent together feel like an adventure, but I know deep down that you’re the one who makes me feel whole."

Satoru smiled softly, his usual bravado replaced by something more tender. "Yeah, well, even the strongest guy around has to show his softer side sometimes." He pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. "Today, I wanted to do something different. No flashy surprises, no crazy stunts. Just... us. I thought we’d start the day with something simple, like pancakes and quiet time together."

She chuckled softly, feeling her heart swell at the gesture. "I think that sounds perfect."

After breakfast, they sat together on the couch, sharing stories from their days before they met, reminiscing about how they first came together. The calm, easy comfort they shared made everything feel right. There was no need for grand gestures when the little moments meant so much more.

But Satoru hadn’t forgotten his surprise. With a mischievous grin, he stood up and disappeared into the other room, only to return a moment later holding a small, carefully wrapped box. He presented it to her, his usual playful attitude returning.

"Alright, I couldn’t resist. I had to get you something," he said, eyes twinkling.

Y/N took the box, her curiosity piqued. "You got me something after all this?"

He simply grinned in response. "Open it."

She slowly unwrapped the box, revealing a delicate silver necklace with a small, heart-shaped pendant. The pendant wasn’t just any heart—it was a custom piece, engraved with the coordinates of the place where they first met.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. "Toru… this is…" Her fingers traced the smooth surface of the pendant, a symbol of everything they had shared. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," Gojo replied softly, his grin giving way to a genuine smile. "That day was when everything changed for me. You changed everything. I figured it was about time I gave you something that would remind you of that, every day."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. "It’s beautiful, Toru. Thank you."

"Anything for you," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You’re my everything."

They spent the rest of the day together, just enjoying each other’s company. There were no big parties, no extravagant gifts—just a quiet, perfect day. When the evening came, he led her outside, where a small firepit crackled, casting soft light in the cool night. They sat together, cuddled up under a blanket, watching the stars.

"I love you," Satoru whispered, his hand resting gently on hers. "More than anything."

"I love you too," she replied, squeezing his hand in return.

And as the fire flickered between them, they both knew that no matter how much time passed, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would always have each other. Valentine’s Day, just like every other day, was just another reason to celebrate the love they had found.

Tag: @madamechrissy

[justkissmewip]

wonderful update! really makes me want to see where this all goes next. Love all the characters so much ❤️

I was actually gonna romance Jefferson becasue I'm interested in that character, but my MC who has never made a meaningful connection with anyone not even their own parents finally getting close to someone becasue of being able to swap bodies with said person feels more fitting for my MC so she has to be with Sawyer now. I'll just have to make a different MC for Jefferson, and also one to romance Berg too so I can see what every romance route is like.

PS. I love Darcy she's the best character in the whole story. ❤️

I'm so glad to hear that! Trust me, there's a lot more content coming, but I'm happy to hear you enjoyed the small bit I posted.

I think that's a great idea to make different MCs for different romance routes. I'm working really hard to make each play through feel unique by making the PC respond in different ways based on their personality, so hopefully each one will feel more fresh instead of the same content over and over again.

Darcy is also my fav :)

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 26

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

Natasha eats blueberries while giving Daisy anxiety, Daisy makes Jake's brain stop working, and Mav and Hangman have a short but meaningful moment.

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

“We should talk about renewing the lease,” I shouted over the music, flipping pancakes. Tasha was sitting on the counter, eating the blueberries that were supposed to be added to the batter.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Tasha spoke through a mouthful of fruit, “I think you should move out.” The words didn’t process immediately, lingering in the air as the pancake began to burn in the pan. Move out? How could my best friend want me to move out? We didn’t argue, I cooked her favorites whenever she wanted them, I didn’t leave my dirty clothes on the hallway floor unlike someone I could point fingers at. 

“You should,” I took a deep breath. “You should keep explaining before I start crying.” Tasha snorted out a laugh, hopping off the counter to hug me from behind and I moved the pan off the burner to keep myself from burning anything else.

“You know I love you and how much I love living with you, my little tequila tornado,” She kissed my cheek. “But you’re engaged, you and Hangman fuck like rabbits, which, ew.” Okay, so Natasha wasn’t mad at me. I laughed softly. “And you’ve got boat loads of money, sooooooo,” She squeezed my hips. “I think you should buy a house and start filling it up with more nieces I can spoil.” 

“Jake and I haven’t even talked about all of that stuff yet, I mean, kids yeah, but not moving in together.” Natasha made a angry buzzer noise,

“You’re engaged, nauseatingly in love, and did I mention all of the sex?” I pushed Tasha off of me, shaking my head as I laughed. She stuck her tongue out, “You’re telling me if you pulled up a Zillow listing and texted to Hangman, he wouldn’t agree to buy the house without even looking at it?” 

“I think he’d at least look at it,” I busied myself while Natasha laughed, throwing out the burnt pancake. “But before you kick me out, at least let me talk to the guy.” 

“Whatever,” Natasha grabbed one of the pancakes off the stack and took a bite. “Aww, there’s no blueberries in this one.” 

“That’s because someone was slacking on their blueberry duties,” I pointed the spatula at her. “Now come on, we’ve still got some batter left.” 

Natasha’s idea of moving in with Jake had quickly taken root in my brain and she was right, technically I had enough money to buy a house all on my own. Nothing fancy, I didn’t have millions lying around, but I had enough and I also had an agent who loved making me happy.

“Hey, baby,” Jake sounded out of breath. “What’s up?” 

“You know how you like to say things that make my brain explode?” I bit the tip of my thumb, eyeing the yellow fixer-upper Jason had sent me. One story, three bedrooms, a fenced in backyard. It needed a little love and DIY but the more I looked at the listing photos, the more I could see it becoming the perfect first house. A yard for Pretty, an office for me, and plenty of space to have the Daggers over. 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Jake chuckled. “What’s going on, baby?” 

“Move in with me. I’ll buy this house Jason found for us, you let me decorate however I want, and maybe you can move some of the boxes shirtless.” Jake’s silence transitioned into random noises and half sentences. “Not so fun being the one who has to reboot their brain, is it, cowboy?” 

“You want to buy a house?” 

“Well, Tasha said I should buy a house and start having babies with you,” 

“Jesus, Wildflower,” Jake choked and coughed. “You’re hell bent on giving me a heart attack this morning, aren’t you?” I laughed, laying back against the pillows next to Pretty Boy, who was snuggled up for a mid-morning nap. “I’m like two miles away from your apartment, give me a few minutes and we can talk about this in person.”

“You out for a run?” I dropped my voice a bit, teasing him, “All hot and sweaty?” Jake groaned,

“I do not need to be hard while running two miles, Wildflower. Behave.” 

“Or what?” 

About an hour later we were laying in bed with the laptop perched on my lap. Jake had refused to take his hands on me since entering my room, even when I forced him to shower, which had been a little complicated with the size of our bathroom. 

“How long has Jason been looking at houses for us?” Jake asked, kissing my shoulder.

“About a week,” I pulled up the list of houses, condos, and apartments Jason’s real estate agent had sent over. “I really like the yellow one but it’s going to need some work to make it perfect.” 

“Lucky for you, your husband is good with his hands,” One of those hands slid over top of my thigh, squeezing. “In more ways than one.” If we weren’t careful, we’d never end up looking at the houses.

“Hands to yourself, fiance,” I elbowed him gently, “We’ve got things to talk about. Especially if you want to keep calling yourself my husband without the paperwork.” 

“We could fix that, all we need is a witness and a judge,” Jake moved the laptop, moving me on top of his lap. Jake kissed my jaw, then my neck, “And I love the yellow house, even if I’m going to break my back renovating that kitchen.” 

“We can look at houses with already remodeled kitchens,” I offered, tilting my head back to give him better access to my neck. “Save your back.” Jake made a rumbly noise when I dragged my nails gently down the muscles of his back, “Or maybe we keep looking and-fuck, Jake.” He chuckled, sucking a hickey into my neck.

“I kind of like the idea of building the kitchen of your dreams with my own two hands.” Was it possible to be any more in love with Jake? I didn’t think so. 

X

Daisy had been solely focused on the idea of moving in together. I tried not to take it personally that it was more because she was avoiding one of her writing deadlines. Not that she wasn’t excited for the right reasons though. The day after we had viewed the house on her laptop we had scheduled a viewing of the house and put in an offer, I tried not to feel like a sugar baby while Daisy managed all of the finances involved. I made good money as a pilot but according to the phone calls I had overheard between Daisy and Jason, my bank account was nothing compared to hers. 

Rooster was understanding about the whole thing, apparently he was looking forward to living alone. Without a roommate he could “play the field more.” Javy was also excited, he and Phoenix were talking about moving in together. Well, they were mostly arguing about it. Javy liked his apartment, it was nice and there was a pool at the complex. Phoenix didn’t want to pack her stuff and she liked how Daisy had decorated their current apartment. 

But today was all about Mav and Penny. Well, mostly Mav. He had decided to wear a suit instead of his dress whites for their wedding and didn’t trust that any of us had suits that weren’t leftover from junior prom, so he had ordered us guys to meet him at a local shop to get fitted for suits. 

“Never I thought I’d see the day where Hangman got engaged,” Maverick patted me on the shoulder while I looked between fabric samples. “Proud of you, kid.” 

“Thanks, Mav,” I sighed. “I’m glad you’re going first though,” I was. I wanted to see one of the other aviators get married to sooth the irrational part of my brain that liked to whisper that it would never work. That someone who risked their life every day when they went to work, disappeared for months at a time for deployments, and couldn’t always talk about what they did. The risk, the secrets, the possible time spent apart… I was worried.

“And I’m glad Goose and Ice did it before me,” Mav said softly, getting a far away look in his eyes. “They showed me what a good marriage looks like and I’m hoping you and I can do it half as well as them.” 

The sentiment hit me hard. I thought about my parents and my sisters, how happy they all were in their marriages despite the challenges. I looked down at the silver band on my left hand, the ring Daisy had gotten me to wear when I wasn’t in the air even though I told her I didn’t need one. I knew its weight was minimal but staring down at it, knowing what it meant, that made it feel like a thousand pound weight on my finger. 

“No paisley suits, Hangman,” Mav patted my shoulder again before walking away. I laughed softly to myself, I had flipped to an orange and pink paisley fabric swatch without realizing it. 

Jake: I love you

Daisy: I love you too

Daisy: Can’t wait to see you in your suit xoxo

Next Chapter

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