#so share your own favorites if you are inclined!

[ostentenacity]

not a wolqotd more a player-qotd. my friends and i have something we call "Favorites Roulette", which is where we queue up for 5 normal-mode trials/raids that we like and do whichever one we get just for fun. i'm curious to know what other people's "Favorites Roulette" would be! no need to limit yourself to just 5 though, that's just an arbitrary limit because you can only queue for 5 individual instances at once.

any criteria goes! i usually pick fights that i think have fun mechanics but you can pick them for any reason - story relevance, music, sentimental value, etc. no need to stick to 8-player content either if you like dungeons better, my friends and i just do trials and raids because they tend to take 5-10 minutes each whereas dungeons are more like 10-20.

(my own personal favorites + musing on boss fight design under the cut. spoilers ahoy!)

my personal Favorites Roulette (if i could pick more than 5 lol) is:

e11/Anamorphosis (Fatebreaker)

Seat of Sacrifice (Warrior of Light)

Voidcast Dais (Golbez)

o12/Alphascape 4.0 (Omega M/F)

Castrum Marinum (Emerald Weapon)

p10/Anabaseios Tenth Circle (Pandaemonium)

The Final Day (Endsinger)

honorable mentions:

e5/Fulmination (Eden!Ramuh)

e4/Sepulture (Eden!Titan)

Dark Inside (Zodiark)

Storm's Crown (Barbariccia)

once they are no longer current (because we don't typically tend to put very recent things in Favorites Roulette, it's more for revisiting old favorites) i think m1/Black Cat and the final trial of Dawntrail may end up in the mix as well.

in story-mode content i don't tend to like add phases very much, and when they do happen i much prefer an interesting miniboss rather than a crowd of mobs. (this is why Hades didn't make the cut even though i love the rest of that fight.) i tend to like fights which are (to me) mechanically interesting, especially ones which are similar to their higher-difficulty versions - but that's not everything, because Endsinger normal is pretty different from the extreme mode and I prefer the normal one way more, and p9 normal isn't a favorite despite the fact that its one of the most mechanically intricate normal-mode raids in the whole game. i also don't tend to pick a lot of mid-expansion trials, or anything from under level 70, because both of those make doing my rotation feel Weird.

i think it's super interesting to consider what makes boss fights fun for different people! for me personally i tend to value "game feel" a lot and i'm curious if that's the case for anyone else or if i'm an outlier.

[xinganhao]

🥊 older brother!soonyoung vs. boyfriend!jihoon.

@choco-scoups -> "what do we think about brother's best friend jihoon, but your brother is soonyoung"

ⓘ cussing, good-natured sibling bickering, suggestive joke. headcanons under the cut.

🥊 jihoon's notes on surviving the kwon siblings .ᐟ

The Kwon siblings are sulky as hell. Jihoon had thought that Soonyoung was the king of brooding, but then he met you. If he weren't dating you, he might even be impressed. As it is, though, he can only focus on managing the two of you's moods. Sure, Jihoon is a little biased. He thinks you're cute when you get all pouty; it makes him want to pinch your cheeks and hold you until that frown is gone from your face. When it's Soonyoung, though, he's a lot more exasperated. "You're a grown man, Soon. Get over it," he might grouse— right before turning to a sullen you and asking if you want a kiss.

The Kwon siblings bicker. A lot. Jihoon doesn't have any brothers or sisters of his own, so he spent quite a bit of time worrying if the two of you were normal. He quickly learned that most siblings tend to butt heads, though you and Soonyoung tended to be a little more... over the top than the average pair. One too many times, Jihoon has been caught in between the two of you's screaming matches. His three-step plan to coming out unscathed is to 1) not take sides, 2) only step in if/when physical altercation occurs, and 3) try not to insult either of you. Even if he is inclined to believe that you're right, more often than not.

The Kwon siblings can be clingy. Before he was your boyfriend, Jihoon was Soonyoung's best friend. And so Jihoon had grown used to Soonyoung's insistences for meals out, Soonyoung's need to be responded to lest he thinks it's the end of the world. When it turned out that you were more or less similar, Jihoon could only shake his head and sigh to himself. He should have known what he was getting into. Really, Jihoon has the patience of a saint in balancing your overthinking and Soonyoung's peskiness. It's a whole love language, and Jihoon is fluent.

Soonyoung loves you. It's not something he says often. Call it the tendency of brothers to brush off emotion or downplay their own sentiments. But Soonyoung loves you in a ride-or-die kind of way, in an if-anything-happens-to-you-I-don't-know-what-I'd-do kind of way. Jihoon knows this. He knows it well. When you and Jihoon had started dating, Soonyoung had been fully supportive. He made a couple of 'jabs' here and there— "If you break their heart, I'll never forgive you!"— but Jihoon knew from the look in his best friend's eye, the set in Soonyoung's jaw, that it wasn't that much of a joke. Jihoon knows that Soonyoung trusting him with you is no small thing. He makes sure not to take it for granted.

You love Jihoon. You love Soonyoung. You would never— not in a million lifetimes— choose Jihoon over Soonyoung. Even though you've threatened bodily harm on Soonyoung more times than can be counted; even though Jihoon is everything that you could want and more. Blood runs thicker than water. Jihoon knows that, too. That's why he never makes you choose. He's content to share the spot of 'favorite person' with your brother, the same way that there's no one else in the world that he trusts more than you two.

+ When the three of you are able to get it together long enough to go somewhere without gauging each other's eyes out, it's those moments that Jihoon secretly adores the most. He sometimes falls quiet, letting you and Kwon fill the conversation at the table, and he thinks of the time you forced him to watch that one Disney movie. Looks like the princess was right; Jihoon is spoken for. Everyone he's ever loved is here, within these walls, at this table, and he couldn't be more happy about it.

✉︎ jayyy! i know you said i could "keep this for a while," but when the req features two people on my bias line.. well! (ᗒᗨᗕ)

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[just-some-random-blogger]

Could I pretty please request a cregan fanfic, where he gets jealous/possessive over the reader? I adore the way you write him! Thank you so much for your time❤️❤️

A/N: this has been in my drafts for a while now. i did a birthday poll and cregan did not win by any means but its my birthday and its storming and im sad and i just want someone to be kind to me. i hope you like this nonnie

Flicker

One could easily say that Lord Cregan Stark was a fair person. He is just and generous with the decisions he makes for his people. But if the matter is with his bride, there is no just or generous, only selfish and greedy; he has no inclination to share.

Cregan Stark x Reader | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, irrational!cregan lol, fluff?, typos, etc.

Cregan clenches his jaw at the sight of you from across the yard. Not one, but two young lords are hot on your heels. They have not let up tailing you since they've arrived and, what's worse, is that you have been so terribly temperate with them.

The Lord Of Winterfell is beside himself in jealousy, and as the hour grows later, the cloud over him grows darker.

He could not blame those... young lords for acting a moth drawn to flame, in fact, he understood perfectly, but he can blame them for taking up your time. This was a harvest festival after all. How can Lady Stark make her rounds with two shadows weighing her down?

Just as you giggle at whatever nonsense was spoken to you, you turn and find not two faces but one broad back. Cregan grumbles, "boys."

The young lords, with their grins, nod at their liege lord, "Lord Stark."

"I'm sure my wife has enjoyed your company, but, it is nigh time for her to entertain other matters."

You come to your husband's side. He turns to you, seeing your smile's been replaced with raised brows. His own furrow.

"Come now, my lord," one of the two speak, "we were just telling our dear lady the folklo-"

"My dear lady had much else to do," Cregan interrupts, voice louder than necessary. He rolls his shoulders back, and suddenly the great sword on his back is more apparent than it was moment ago.

Though the two knew the Lord was not quick to resort to violence, still, they understood that it was time for them to depart, so they do.

Your face contorts as you watch your husband's nostrils flair after the two leave, his hot breath condensing with the cold air. He turns to you and you expect him to give you a talking to. You are frozen in shock when he merely nods and walks away.

Confusion holds your features, so you follow him. Cregan simply goes back to what he was doing, however, which was speaking to one of the farmers about the colts in his stables.

You are left confused, and honestly hurt by the strange treatment from him. After realizing he did not actually want you around him, you find something else to do. Cregan, though kept constantly preoccupied, keeps a close watch, and he is glad that no one lingers longer than they should this time around.

By the end of the day, when you are home eating supper, there is a tension between you two that only you can feel. Cregan is happily finishing his meal when you call out to him.

He averts his attention from his nearly empty bowl to you, "yes, my love?"

You press your lips together, doubting the otherwise plain way the pet name falls off his lips. You procure the gift you'd ben keeping on your lap the whole dinner, pushing it across the table to your husband.

Cregan's brows quirk at the wrapped object. He unfolds it, finding the gift to be a handful of candies. He turns back with a smile, "sweeties."

You return his smile with a softer one, "your favorite."

He pushes the sweets to the middle of the table, "dessert."

You turn to your bowl; you've only eaten half of your food, but your appetite was no longer present. Your husband takes a sweetie, then pushes it closer to you, urging you to take one. So, you do, popping it in your mouth.

"Thank you, love."

You release a breath, finally finding it in you to relax upon receiving the expression you did, "I take it you are no longer cross with me."

"Cross?" his brows knit, "whoever said such a lie?"

You raise your brows, "you ignored me the whole time after telling off Lord Caplan and Derby."

Cregan clears his throat, straightening up in his chair, "aye, I told them off, but I was not ignoring you. I told you I would be preoccupied greatly today."

You deflate "... Yes," you look around aimlessly, "you did."

Cregan's face hardens. He sighs, pushing his chair back, "come to me."

You stare at him for a moment. Part of you wishes to be difficult but you decide to slowly come over to him. Once you were within arm's reach, he scoops you into him and seals you against his chest.

You instinctively adjust atop him, arm coming around his shoulders while his own circle around your torso. He presses a few kisses on your neck before you lean into him. He rubs your sides, "forgive me if it appeared so, my heart."

You turn to him, frowning, "it did appear so, my lord."

Cregan's brows quirk. My lord? What horror. What pain. He frowns back, eager to set things straight, "how might I make it up to you?"

You ghost your fingertips down his cheek, examining his distraught expression. You lean your forehead against his, "I don't know."

Cregan tightens his hold on you, sighing out, "please. I do not wish to be your lord."

The faintest of chuckles slip past your lips, "mmm, but you are my lord, Lord Stark."

His one hand squeezes your thigh, "do not insult me so cruelly, my love."

You giggle under your breath and cup his cheeks.

Cregan relaxes slightly, but he still urges you with his eyes.

"Very well," you hum, "first, you must confess... were you jealous of the two lords?"

"Yes," he admits unabashedly quick.

You are taken off guard by it. You knit your brows and tilt your head, "w h y ?"

"Why?" he tilts his head the other way, "my person smiles at another. Need I say more?"

You raise a brow in disbelief of his explanation.

Cregan nuzzles against you neck, "I cannot help my feelings. Do not hold it so bitterly against me."

You chuckle and clutch the back of his head, leaning your cheek on him, "now... my dear—"

He perks, pulling away to look at you.

"—why ever would I do such a thing?"

Cregan grins, then peppers kisses across your jaw, "my thoughts exactly."

You push him away, gaining his full attention again, "but there is another thing you must do, silly pup."

His nostrils flare. It is not his favorite pet name, but he'd rather that than my lord. "Name it."

You trace his nose before tapping the tip, "take me to bed."

You yelp at the immediate reaction, as does the chair that crashes behind your husband when he jolts to his feet to carry you back into your quarters.

[wileys-russo]

I had a cute idea I wanted to share because I love the way you write!! Leah has back to back interviews from home and reader is sat on the sofa just watching her, falling more and more in love with how passionate her girl is. Leah gets all blushy and a bit flustered by the gaze. Just a cute fluffy one x

lock down II l.williamson

"-and then i've got another over zoom with sky sports at three and i should be done for the day." your girlfriend sighed, already tired by her day before it had even begun.

"no rest for the wicked huh?" you hummed, still laid down in bed as the blonde restlessly paced back and forth across the room. "god then i've gotta fit in our gym program too! do you mind if we do it tonight? i know we're not supposed to but that at least gives me a few hours in between." leah groaned in realization.

"leah breath! of course i don't mind babe, its more enjoyable when we do the program together anyway. i'm more than sure we can push it back a few hours and it shouldn't affect the stats too much." you assured her gently as the blonde nodded.

"so much for lock down! everyone's watching bloody netflix and making tiktoks but noo im memorizing scripts and listening to the same witty one liner over and over about how hard it must be to 'work from home' as a footballer." leah mocked, falling backwards onto the bed with a huff.

"but is it?" you questioned as she sat up slightly and turned her head to be able to see you. "is it what?" leah asked with a confused frown. "is it hard to work from home as a footballer?" you questioned with a frown of your own.

one which quickly turned into a grin as your girlfriend lunged at you, ducking your head under the covers as her bony fingers poked and prodded at you, your safety blanket ripped away as the blonde hovered over you.

"you think you're so fucking funny." leah rolled her eyes as your grin grew. "well one of us has to have a sense of humor in this relationship baby, you're not called captain grumpy for nothing." you teased, tapping your lips expectantly.

"cheeky girl." leah tutted but none the less gave into your request, pressing her lips to yours as your hands moved to tangle in her hair, deepening the kiss as she settled on top of you.

but no sooner did the taller girl slip her tongue into your mouth, hands gliding slowly up your bare stomach, did her alarm go off.

"why!" leah pulled away and groaned moodily, flopping down and burying her face in your neck making you chuckle and gently scratch your nails against her scalp as you tapped snooze.

"babe this isn't making me anymore inclined to get up." your girlfriend mumbled against your skin making you smile. "what if i promise to make breakfast and have it ready for when your first interviews done?" you whispered into her hair, squirming as the girl sighed.

"might be working a little." leah admitted making you laugh and press a kiss to her cheek. "mm and what if i make your favorite breakfast?" you hummed, still rhythmically scratching at her scalp.

"the williamson special?" she questioned, the words muffled into your neck but you laughed again. "the williamson special. an omelette with ham, cheese and not a single spec of colour, flavour or vegetables." you teased, squealing as she pinched your hip but pulled her head up.

"you promised not to mock my eating habits." the older girl frowned with a pout that you quickly kissed away. "no i promised not to mock them last week, todays monday. brand new day of opportunity!" you grinned, pushing her hands away where they tickled at the sliver of skin where your shirt had rode up.

"first my speech impediment and now my diet. you really are a wicked awful woman!" leah sighed with a shake of her head as you scoffed.

"my love we've been over this. you don't have a speech impediment, you're just from milton keynes." you whispered against her lips, pulling away right before they could press against hers, pushing her off of you and moving to stand with a stretch.

"now my beloved MK, you're going the right way for the silent treatment missy." leah pointed at you with a glare as you oohed sarcastically. "tempting. is that a promise?" you winked, laughing as she lurched forward and grabbed the back of your top tugging you back down into bed.

"you are very lucky you're cute." your girlfriend tutted from above you, shaking her head. "and you're very lucky i'm so patient." you poked at her nose with an amused smile as leah gasped in mock offence, your girlfriend nothing if not the expert at annoying you.

"you wait for the third one and you won't have time to shower lee." you warned, pushing her fringe out of her face with a soft smile as she leaned over you to tap stop on the second alarm on her phone and looked down at you with a cheeky grin.

"in that case, wanna save some water?"

~

you were trying to concentrate on your own laptop, you really were.

in the spirit of having nothing better to do locked away in your home you'd signed up for an online accounting course, with leah already studying a much higher qualification in the same field she'd been a massive help.

but why would you waste your time looking at tax brackets and finance breakdowns when you could stare at your incredibly fit gorgeous girlfriend who was sat only a few metres away in your direct eyeline.

you smiled at how she threw and flailed her hands about as she spoke, always one to speak expressively and passionately as she was recounting a story from her childhood when she'd played on a boys team and was relentlessly pushed about for being 'just too good'.

it was one of the first things that had you falling deeply for the older girl, how passionate she was. not just about football but with anything she put her mind and heart to, including how fiercely she loved.

not just how she loved you, but how she loved her family, loved football, loved her friends, the girl could be a handful and a stubborn headache at times but nobody could deny that she was also one of the most sincere and loving human beings you'd ever met.

so with that in mind you sighed quietly, a dopey smile on your face as you pined over her like a lovesick puppy, something the pair of you were often teased about by your team mates but it just washed over you like water off a ducks back, both of you far too loved up in your little bubble to pay it any mind.

in fact without leah you were certain you'd have long lost your mind amid this pandemic, the blonde finding little ways every day to make you still feel so special or to have you smile or laugh, two things which rapidly became her favorite reward.

just yesterday she'd woken you up with breakfast in bed and a bunch of flowers just because.

granted she did order the breakfast from a local cafe which was still operating for delivery and you couldn't prove it but you were near certain that she'd stolen the flowers from some of your neighbors front yards on her morning walk.

regardless you were touched by the thoughtful gesture and showered her with sweet kisses as a thank you, even if leah did eat nearly all of your breakfast much to your amusement given it was hardly up to her usual bland unseasoned standards.

you leaned back a little more into the sofa and crossed your legs underneath you, balancing your laptop on a cushion on your lap, a soft smile plastered permanently into your features.

once or twice leah caught your eyes staring over the top of her own laptop, sending you a small grin or a subtle wink before her attention returned back to the interviewer.

you heard him say that the next game would be a drawing one, sliding your laptop away and hurrying to grab a notebook and pen, placing them beside leah who mouthed her thanks as you took a seat across from her at the dining table.

leah gave you a questioning look as you did so but you merely shrugged, gesturing for her to pay attention as she tuned back into the interview. you watched as she was told to draw her wembley stadium, competing against the interviewer.

you smiled as you took her in, the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, nostrils flaring in annoyance every now and then as she was unhappy with a stroke of her pen, a small puff of air exhaled from the corner of her mouth as the tip of her tongue pushed out the other side.

you took a photo of her and smiled, placing your phone back down and resting your chin on your hand. leah could feel your stare on her and as she revealed her drawing and you grinned as the tips of her ears and cheeks flushed red.

"stop!" she mouthed at you as you shook your head, still staring at her in admiration as her attention switched back to the interview. finally after what felt like hours of your gaze pinned to her leah was able to wrap it up, saying her goodbyes and clicking end call on the zoom, pushing her laptop closed.

"what?" you smiled innocently as the blonde sat back in her chair and shook her head at you. "you have a staring problem!" she accused with a point as you gasped and held a hand to your chest.

"i do not. i wasn't staring, i was admiring!" you clarified as leah hummed, her chair pushing back with a scrape. "cheeky." leah clicked her tongue as you followed after her to the kitchen, kissing her still slightly pink cheek with a smile as she grabbed a juice out from the fridge.

"leah!" you scoffed as you held your hand out for it to take a mouthful and she slapped her palm against yours with a wink.

last one, sorry babe." the blonde smirked as your mouth formed a small o. "those are mine!" you protested, rushing around the counter and trying to snatch it off her as she pushed you away effortlessly with one hand and downed the juice with the other.

"you are so unbel-" you started to tell her off as she exhaled happily and tossed the empty bottle into the recyling bin with a happy whoop as it landed. "no no wait, let me guess." her finger smushed against your lips silencing you as she stroked her chin as if deep in thought.

"unbelievably sexy?" silence. "no? okay. unbelievably charming?" silence again. "wrong again? mmm unbelievably intelligent?" more silence. "wow thought i had it there. unbelievably-" you wrenched her hand away at that and shook your head.

"unbelievably infuriating!" you rolled your eyes as leah smacked her forehead with a scoff. "that was my next guess!" she tutted with a shake of her head as you sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"hey hey don't get all stroppy. there's still three more in there i was only teasing." leah grabbed your waist and pulled your shorter form into her, a noise of surprise leaving your mouth as her hands hooked under your thighs and she hoisted you up to sit on the counter as she settled between your legs.

"how about the williamson special right now?" leah smiled, thumb tracing your bottom lip as you gave her a look of slight confusion. "you want another omelette?" you questioned as your girlfriend shook her head.

"no no baby girl, the real williamson special." leah rasped, hands toying with the waistband of your sweats as you caught onto what she was suggesting.

"mmm and whats that? my memory needs a jog." you hummed, a smile settling onto your own face as the girl leaned in, minty breath fanning your face as her lips were millimeters from yours.

"mind blowingly passionate sex with a guaranteed happy ending, and then-" your eyes fluttered closed as she moved to kiss at your neck, lips trailing from your jaw down to the column of your throat, biting softly before she moved to tug at the lobe of your ear.

"-then we eat potato smileys in bed naked and watch the golf." leah exhaled as you moaned playfully.

"god i love it when you talk dirty to me."

[tayraedoll]

Relax Dear

Had the urge to write how a bath with the Hazbin men would go. Enjoy these little blurbs for Alastor, Lucifer, and Vox!

PS- First ever attempt to write Vox!

MDNI 18+

TW- Suggestive themes, P in V intercourse, swearing, degradation kink, fluff.

Alastor-

You scowled, eyes squinting at the page in front of you as you attempted to read the same paragraph for the third time. A hefty sigh escapes your lips as you place your book on the side table, your hands coming up to rub your temples as you clench your eyes shut. It had been a rough day, you had gotten in between Vaggie and Angel during an argument and your head was pounding from enduring all the yelling that went back and forth. You were hoping that a good book would help you relax but reading only served to make your headache worse.

You feel a hand gently grasp your shoulder, "Are you alright Sha?"

A small smile graces your lips as you turn to your partner, Alastor. He was tucked into his own chair beside you, reading together was a nightly ritual you both enjoyed; you learned to make the most of these peaceful moments together and bask in each other's presence. A contented, close-lipped grin adorned his face, but you could see the concern in his eyes as he looked you over.

"Yea, I'm fine; just have a headache and- unfortunately- trying to read did not help relieve it at all. I actually think I will go take a bath for a bit", you squeeze his hand before getting up to make your way to your shared en suite.

Alastor places his own book down, "Excellent idea My Dear!", before following you into the bathroom. You raise an eyebrow at him; Alastor was not one for baths, he preferred showers claiming that a bath forced you to sit in your own filth.

"Do you plan to join me in the tub?", you ask incredulously, although you would not mind at all if he did.

"Ha! No Dear, absolutely not. But I'd rather not starve myself of your company, so I feel inclined to sit with you outside the tub if you'll allow me to."

You beam at him, delighted that he was willing to sit with you no matter what you did just so he could be near you. You go about gathering everything you need for your bath- lighting the candles, grabbing a towel, and pinning up your hair. You are finally able to add the finishing touch by adding your favorite bath bomb called Feeling Jazzy; you inhale a deep breath as the notes of spice and citrus envelope the water, the stress of the day already slipping away.

As you disrobe and climb into the tub, Alastor's cane begins playing soft jazz music. You close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall while you concentrate on relaxing every taut muscle in your body.

Your eyes fly open again when you feel warm hands gently grasp your shoulders and begin rubbing. You crane your neck around and peer up at Alastor as he smiles down at you, claws gently raking across your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

"Just relax Dear", his hand moves up to the nape of your neck and you let out a groan as his claws gently dig into your pressure points like makeshift acupuncture needles. Every limb turns to jelly as you relax in Alastor's hold, headache completely forgotten.

Lucifer-

You tilt your head at the sound of the bathroom door opening; even with the cool washcloth obstructing your view you knew exactly who had entered, his Angelic aura would give him away every time. Your skin prickled in goosebumps, your mind subconsciously reacting to the cosmically powerful being closing in on you.

Soft lips gently press to your forehead, "How's the bath Love?"

You remove the cloth from your eyes to find The King of Hell sweetly smiling down at you. Your eyes rake over his appearance, his blonde hair sticking out at odd angles like he kept running his hands through it, his eyes-though shining brightly- bore deep purple bags underneath, and his clothing was full of wrinkles. He looked absolutely exhausted, his duties keeping him holed up in his office all day.

You smile back at him before sighing, looking up at him from beneath your lashes, "It would be better if you joined me." Lucifer was not good at self-care, but you were hoping you could entice him into relaxing in the bath with you for just a little while.

A low chuckle echoes through the room; Lucifer knows exactly what you are doing, finding it endearing that you worry about his well-being. Though it was ridiculous for you to fret over a being as powerful as he, it was nice to know you cared so much about him. Why not indulge you every now and then?

You watched as the king stripped, eyes greedily roaming over every contour and dip of lean muscle exposed. When he got into the tub, he moved to the side opposite you so you were facing each other, legs tangled together.

A low groan of relief escaped his lips as the hot water enveloped his frame causing you to bite your lip as your thighs clenched at the sound. Perhaps there were other ways you could get your king to relax. You pointed your toes on one foot and began to slowly push them up the inside of one of his legs, watching with glee as the action caused him to shiver.

Just before your toes could reach their goal he swiftly grabbed your wandering limb. "Was there something else you wanted to do Love?", Lucifer smiled at you devilishly as he pressed his thumbs into the ball of your foot, one claw raking down into the arch. A strangled noise halfway between a gasp and a moan hissed between your teeth, your thighs clenching together again. Damn this man and his talented hands.

You bat your eyes at him, leaning forward just enough that your breasts break above the water and you do not miss the way his eyes dart down to your chest immediately. "Do you like the smell of the bath bomb Luci?", you ask as your hands grip his legs at the knees, using them to pull yourself closer to him.

Lucifer's face is flushed, he is trying hard and utterly failing at not staring at your bare chest, "Uh-what? Smell? Oh yes! It smells lovely!" his voice is higher than usual and he tries to cough to cover his embarrassment.

You slowly crawl up his body, your hand trailing up his torso and causing his abs and pecs to twitch. Leaning down, you softly whisper in his ear, "The scent is called 'All Hail the Queen'", and nip his earlobe. A whimper escapes the man below you as his hands wrap around your hips, his erection pressing against your core.

You lean back, taking his face in your hands as you smile at his wide eyes and golden cheeks. "Relax Dear", you purr as you sink down on him.

Vox-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!", you cry out, your thighs burning from impaling yourself on Vox's cock over and over again. The water sloshed around in the tub, some of it escaping onto the bathroom floor. You knew what was in store for you as soon as Vox whispered "Bath time" into your ear; bathes with the TV host often left you dirtier than you were before you got in the bath.

The Overlord's large hands pushed you forward slightly so your hands were braced on the tub floor, the angle letting him hit deeper inside of you as he gripped your hips and took control of the speed.

"Fuck Baby just like that; such a flithy little slut!", Vox growled behind you.

His ruthless pace had you seeing stars, momentarily you mused over how fitting that was. Vox often called you his Star, the one possession he was completely unwilling to share- not even with the other Vees. Even the bath bomb he always used before fucking you in the tub was called Hollywood Star. The man encompassed everything that was Hollywood glamour, and he would always be the star of your own heart.

One hand fisted into your hair as the other slid around the front of you to swirl tight circles around your clit. Your thighs quaked as your body went taut, your orgasm crashing over you with a scream of his name.

"I love it when you scream my name! FUUUUCK!", Vox spilled into you, your releases mixing together in the water. He pulled you back into his chest, a hand combing through the mess your hair turned into. You let his warmth seep into you, your head lolled over to his shoulder.

Before long, you felt his member beginning to harden again within you. Vox was rarely finished after just one round, but it always surprised you how fast he was ready to go again. A small whimper escaped your lips, hips squirming uncomfortably as he filled you again.

"Relax Dear, we are only getting started."

[orphicmusings]

this is so self indulgent but i love the idea of modern!viktor with reader who is more artistic/humanities inclined rather than stem…museum dates are a staple, obviously, whether they’re art or history, you walk hand in hand and sit on the little benches when you need a break and talk about your favorite parts (he loves seeing artifacts and antiques!!!) and he loves that he gets to hear you gush about each subject you come across and watch your eyes flicker with absolute light as you learn more and more, the passion for it being the best thing the two of you share other than your love for each other.

and then he’ll take you to one of those science discovery places, and he loves to freak you out with gnarly facts and will spend an hour in the planetarium with you if they let you, mapping out the constellations in the dim light in your own little journals, pretending you’re ancient astrologers. one time, on a particularly slow day, due to the relaxing music and general ambience, you both had fallen asleep in there— your head on his shoulder, his head on top of yours, and a staff member found you about a half hour before closing.

spoiling your partner with fine things such as designer clothes and jewelry is great, and he would if you wanted it, but to him? the most fun he’ll ever have spoiling you is watching you go absolutely ham in a bookstore. following behind you through the shelves with a basket to collect your pile, and you making sure you’re picking out a few you can read together (you reading aloud to him to get his mind to quiet down enough for him for fall asleep—he loves jane austen). seeing you geek out over limited edition covers of classics, dracula, frankenstein (which you affectionately call him, viktor frankenstein, when he is particularly too stubborn to leave his lab), greek myths, shakespeare, even if you already have a copy, he’ll buy you this one simply because it looks better on your joint bookshelf.

and if you ever doubt your intelligence in comparison to his? after trying to figure out something mathematical and handing it to him and him getting it done within seconds? even muttering a “right, sorry, i’m stupid” as a kneejerk reaction to existing in a lifetime of academic settings where stem is prioritized as The Smart People Subject and the humanities are only there as frivolous endeavors— will earn you the most disappointed look. “do not talk about yourself like that, my darling. i mean it.” he tells you firmly, getting more annoyed at you putting yourself down than he ever would with you asking him for help. oh, and if you were feeling particularly self deprecating and decided to go back at him?

god have mercy on you as he has you reading and retaining information from dense texts to him as he’s buried between your thighs, just to prove you can do what he couldn’t.

“mhm, and what have we learned?”

“that…” you caught your breath. “orpheus actually proved he loved eurydice by-“

“no.” he chided gently with a breathy smirk of his own. “that my love is entirely capable, and skilled, the most clever little darling i know…yes?”

you can’t stop the bashful smile that pulls at your lips and the heat that dusts your cheeks when you answer in affirmation.

[seaslugfanclub]

bestie, beloved mutual, Neptune, I have for real been getting hit on at work by creepy older men and sometimes women multiple times a day, so I was wondering if you could do the more romantically inclined villains witnessing y/n having to deal with several of these people within a short amount of time? You could do any writing style that comes to mind, this is just my way of coping :D ily!!(platonic)

{if this is out of your comfort zone, please message me and kill me :)}

Omg I am so sorry you have to deal with that, as someone who’s had the same experience, I totally understand your frustration. Hang in there pookie ❤️

Villains reaction to (Y/N) being creeped on

TW: old man being creepy/harassment (stay safe everyone)

—————————————

During their time at Disney Parks, the Villain’s realized they aren’t the most evil people there

There was this older park attendant working in the same branch as (Y/N) and of course, in typical creep fashion he. would. not. leave. (Y/N). alone.

When they clock in for work “Good Morning (Y/N), I was thinking about you last night.”

During (Y/N)’s lunch break, he’d try to sit across from them. “I saw some kid spill her drink all over you, I have an extra shirt in my locker if you’d like to come with me and get it.”

God, even when they’re both supervising interactions with the Villains “I noticed that new Mickey Mouse pin on your chest, I should call you ‘my little Disney girl’”

All of this was enough for the Villains to notice, and if they’re existence wasn’t dependent on Disney, they would’ve flayed this guy the moment he made eye contact with (Y/N)

Each Villain has seen at least one instance of (Y/N)’s coworker hitting on them, and they all have their own idea of how to deal with the creep

Hades wants to tie the creep to the top of the magic castle and let the seagulls eat his liver

Maleficent is shining up her collection of medieval torture devices

Frollo wants him flogged

Facilier is currently sewing up a voodoo doll, all he needs is some of the old man’s hair

Scar is scheming ways to make his hyenas mauling the man look like an accident

Clayton, Gaston, and Sykes just want to shoot the guy

But for now everyone makes sure that (Y/N) isn’t alone with the guy, something (Y/N) appreciates more than anything

When (Y/N) come teary eyed to the Villains, you know damn well they’re gonna be treated like royalty.

Hook cooks the their favorite meal as Hades brings his best jokes to take their mind off being harassed

Cruella actually understands what (Y/N)s going through, having been a female in the male dominated fashion industry during the 50’s

“Chin up now dear, don’t let some man-thing get to you. Heavens know I had my fare share of degenerates when I started out my illustrious career!”

Even though they can’t physically touch the creep, it’s not a surprise that the man eventually disappeared quit

Something about a series of unfortunate circumstances that coincidentally happed in progression that lead him to have a mental breakdown and leave on short notice

When news of the creeps resignation, all the villains were like:

There are only two reasons the Villains could get along. 1. It’s for (Y/N) 2. The destruction of someone’s life.

(Y/N) has scary dog privileges, but the scary dogs are middle aged magicians

—————————————

Hope you enjoyed! Try not to let those old creeps get you down, they’re miserable folks who don’t deserve the time of day! (And for real a man called me his ‘little Disney girl’ when he noticed my Disney pin…. I’m 20..)

[starless-nightz]

Hi! I just saw your daughter of Hera headcanons and I adored them! Can I please get something similar but instead as the daughter of Hestia? Thank you!

Being a daughter of Hestia HCs

note -> I love Hestia so much shes one of my favorite greek gods <33

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, platonic! Hestia, everyone at camp likes you.

People are surprised that Hestia has a child. The goddess of the hearth is, of course, a virgin goddess and works to keep peace among the gods, so when you arrive at Camp Half-Blood, it's something of a shock to everyone—Hestia rarely takes a direct part in demigod affairs, and the idea of her having a daughter is unexpected.

You're instantly seen as a soothing presence. The moment you enter the campsite, people notice how your presence seems to bring peace with it. Fights seem to die down when you're near, and tension just melts away. The other campers start looking to you for comfort and advice instead of seeking battle advice or quests. They come to you when they need to be heard or if they had a long day of training and want to unwind.

You spend a lot of time around campfires. You are a daughter of Hestia, and you only feel at home around the fire. You would usually busied by tending it, to keep it burning steadily. You're less concerned with combat and quests than some of the other campers. But you provide a much-needed service: keeping the camp's heart-cordial and warm.

Your cabin is a home for all the others. Just because Hestia herself didn't have a cabin, you're probably sorted into Hermes' cabin, or you've been given your own tiny spot. Whichever the case, wherever you go, your space becomes a haven to the campers. A place to lock themselves up and relax, talking it over, or just being with themselves, not judging each other. You always keep one warm blanket around, should any camper need one, or an extra mug of hot chocolate.

You have a gentle approach to leadership. You do not like to bark orders or rush into battle, yet people hold you in high regard. Your quiet wisdom and soothing way with mediation make you a natural peacemaker and the others often ask you to help negotiate conflicts among the campers. Even the more hot-headed children of Ares or Hermes listen to you when tempers flare.

Your powers are subtle, yet so very valuable. You do not yield fire in a destructive manner, as Hephaestus' children do. You can control hearth flames and bring warmth and comfort with you where you go. You can light fires that never burn out or summon a small flame to soothe someone's anxiety or stress. Your powers are more about protection and nurturing than about combat.

Older campers, especially those who have been through wars and quests, respect you. They have fought enough battles; the tranquil natured attitude is a change of scenery. You are there to remind them it's not all about the fights that make life worth living. Some even open their hearts to you, sharing with you their deepest fears and worries, knowing you'll never betray their trust.

You are attached to nature and home. Like Hestia, you find delight in simplicity and small quiet moments. You love helping in the kitchens, planting flowers, and just sitting with others by the fire. All these so-called ordinary activities happy for you, and you make other people notice the beauty of them too.

People come to you for advice and comfort. Even campers who are more inclined toward fighting or adventure will be drawn to the calmness you bring with you. Children of Athena might look to you when they're troubled by strategy; children of Apollo might come to you when they need emotional support after healing someone else. You're never too busy to listen, and people learn to rely on that.

You're often underestimated, and that's really okay by you. Most anybody who assumes that you aren't a fighter also thinks you won't be much use on quests or in battles. But when it comes to anything involving the heart, family, and loyalty, you're second to none. The way that emotional intelligence and quiet strength keeps people off guard till your role proves to be utterly important.

Chiron and the other leaders trust you highly You're one of those people whose opinions are sought often at camp morale or in case of disputes arising. Chiron values your sober-mindedness and your ability to look at things from every side. You're the one he trusts to help mediate issues between cabins, and your input is quite valued in camp meetings.

Around campfires, you are usually the life of the company. While others may sing or tell stories, you can sit by the fire, stirring and keeping it bright. You seek no attention, but your presence will be felt in the warmth of the flames and the serenity it gives. Without you, the campfire would just not be the same.

[wildsaltair]

Sunrise Smiles

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (fluff, with a few tiny hints of spice)

Word Count: 2.5k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @yourloverslost, @russtybird, @saltwaterburns, @dovellici, @ay0nha, @bat-gwuck, @melintowriting, @nananyang, @enhydralutris-t, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: I'm back with more obsessive tenderness and passion for my beloved husband Maximus :) I've been looking forward to sharing this one — it's short but really sweet. This one takes place sort of after "Tender Fires," in which Maximus escapes the execution attempt and ends up at reader's farm, where they fall in love and after much mutual pining finally become lovers. This is another favorite of mine, and I hope y'all enjoy <3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

You have been lovers for exactly one week now, and still you are shy waking up with him in the mornings.

The first rays of dawn wake you both at the same time, cascading over the bed and illuminating Maximus' fine features as if he were a god. You are still amazed at the feeling of waking to find this man beside you, his arms wrapped around you and his skin wonderfully warm against yours.

This morning, you wake with your back pressed against his front, one of his arms thrown across your waist and his face buried in your hair. You can tell he is awake by the way he shifts you to fit against him more easily, but he seems content to lie still for a few moments while you wake up.

This entire arrangement is so new, so foreign to you. During the day when you go about your chores, you can’t help blushing when your mind returns to the night before, remembering the passionate way he makes love to you. Even now, enveloped in the warmth of your bed, the idea that this is real life almost seems impossible.

Once he has shifted you where he wants you, he inclines his head to one side, just far enough that he can kiss the side of your neck tenderly. You can feel him smiling against your skin, pulling you infinitesimally closer to his body.

And this is the most unfamiliar aspect of it all: this next-morning affection. There is no embarrassed separation after you are finished, no leaving in the middle of the night to escape awkwardness. For this man, lovemaking is only one part of the way he demonstrates his affection for you.

Slowly, almost lazily, he continues to press soft kisses against the curve of your neck, following a trail down your shoulder. Your skin tingles at the sensation, and you can’t resist a smile that you try to hide in the pillow.

He must catch your amusement, because you can feel his own smile widening as he kisses the back of your shoulder. His short beard prickles against your bare skin, eliciting a giggle from you that prompts him to tighten his arms around you and bury his face in the crook of your neck, laughing with you.

Neither of you is laughing at anything in particular — just giddy at being able to demonstrate your love for each other — and he lifts his head enough so he can pull you onto your back. You link both arms around his neck, dragging him back down to your level, and he kisses your lips in a way that is somehow both stirring and soothing.

In the next few moments, he takes the time to kiss a trail down your neck, your collarbone, and lower. The same early-morning shyness strikes you, even in its irrationality. There is nothing he can see or do that he has not already seen or done in the last week, but the sheer intimacy of him seeing you this way, with the first rays of the sun dancing through your bedroom, makes you bashful.

Once he is satisfied that he has covered you in kisses, he props himself up on one arm to gaze into your eyes and stroke his fingertips through your hair. You can see nothing but absolute fondness in the way he looks at you.

“As lovely as you are at night,” he says in the deep, raspy morning voice that sends an instant shiver down your spine, “I think you are even lovelier in the morning.”

You can only smile at his words, still a bit overwhelmed by the entire situation. You would have thought that after a week of being lovers, you would be a bit more confident and articulate the morning after, but this man still knocks you speechless with the passion in his eyes. Especially when your body is remembering the way the night before was spent.

He tilts his head to one side as he looks at you curiously, eyes darting across your face. With a mischievous smile, he traces the back of his knuckles down your cheek. “Is that a blush?” he asks softly, fingertips trailing over your face.

You can only grin and look away in response, feeling your cheeks burning. You can’t explain why you are so overcome with shyness, but he just smiles wider at your reaction.

“Why do you blush?” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss you again between sentences. “What do you think I will see that I have not already admired?”

Your blush only deepens at his question, and both of you are smiling into the next kiss. You reach up both hands to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair and earning a soft sound from him in response. He lowers himself down onto his elbows over you and deepens the kiss, his tongue stealing past your lips.

This is yet another thing that thrills and dazes you: the way he pours every bit of his intense focus onto you, exploring your mouth as if he is kissing you for the last time and trying to commit each detail to memory.

In the brief moment when he pulls away to take a breath, you reply to the question that he has probably forgotten. “If I blush,” you tell him coyly, “it is only because the memory of last night is still so fresh.”

“Is it?” he asks, clearly pleased with that answer. “Would you be interested in refreshing that memory again?”

You shiver again at the delicious promise in his words, and he wraps you snugly in his arms again, his warmth washing over your skin. He tilts his head to resume his kissing on the side of your neck, right behind your ear in the spot that he knows makes you writhe.

A moment later, when you can form a coherent thought, both hands gripping his broad shoulders, you whisper in his ear, “The day will not wait for us to have our fill of each other, my love.” He smiles against your neck, and you add, “Though I will be counting the moments until night falls and we can refresh the memory more than once.”

Still cradling you in his arms, he lifts his head and gazes into your eyes tenderly. “Would that there were enough hours in the night that I could get my fill of you.”

“I would be heartbroken if I ever thought you had enough of me,” you reply softly, fingers threading through his hair.

He sighs, the heat and sincerity in his eyes transfixing you. “A thousand nights with you would never be enough,” he murmurs, fingers flexing against your waist. He kisses you again, more gently this time.

“Then I should have nothing to worry about tonight,” you tease him between kisses. “It is only the eighth night.”

Another sound from the back of his throat, one that almost sounds like a growl when paired with his intense gaze. “Worry only that I will not let you go in the morning,” he quips, eyes locked on your kiss-swollen lips.

The heat of his skin, the warmth of his embrace, and the growing knot of desire in your stomach combine to make you yearn to take him up on his offer of refreshing your memory right here and now. “This may be the first time I have ever loathed my farm,” you admit, arching your back in a stretch and tightening your hold around his neck.

He grins in response, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Do not loathe your farm,” he replies. “It needs you almost as much as I do.” One last kiss, one that conveys his deep affection for you, and he finally pushes himself into a sitting position, tugging you up with him by the hands.

“Come,” he instructs you softly, climbing off the bed and pulling you alongside him. Again, you feel the blush rising to your cheeks when you stand, the covers falling away to reveal your skin, but he just gives you a smile of reassurance.

At first, you aren’t sure what he plans to do, but he reaches for your tunic, which was folded on your corner chair, and lifts his eyebrows to indicate for you to hold out your arms. You do so, and he wraps the tunic around you as deftly as if he has done it a hundred times. He certainly has seen you do it enough times.

He fiddles with your belt for a moment, tying it backwards, then correctly while you watch. Occasionally, he lets his eyes flit up to yours, the corners of his lips turned up in a subtle smile.

The sheer tenderness of his action melts your heart, especially since you know he is not purposely seducing you in this moment. He is simply enjoying your presence, engaging in your normal morning routine of putting your clothes back on after a night spent otherwise.

When he finishes tugging the knot in your belt, you almost shiver remembering the way he untied it last night — carefully, methodically, but with the utmost intensity and purpose.

Now that he has finished with you, you decide to follow his lead, picking up his tunic from where he had draped it across the corner of your bedside table. He grins when he sees that you are reciprocating his actions, and he helps you shrug the tunic over his head, thoroughly tousling his hair in the process.

His tunic a simple one, the kind that is soft and comfortable and laces up at the neck. Naturally, the strings hang loose thanks to your quick untying work last night, leaving his neck exposed. With a short coy smile, one that belies the color in your cheeks, you lean forward and press a kiss to his collarbone, which is something you have quickly discovered that he likes.

Before you have even lifted your head, both his hands are on the sides of your waist, gripping you with the restrained strength that makes your blood race. You can see his chest rising and falling more rapidly, feel his fingers flexing into your ribs, but he doesn’t lose his self-control, just allows you to continue.

Carefully, you lace up the cross-ties on his tunic, your fingers brushing his chest occasionally. You are consistently amazed at how warm his skin always seems to be, no matter the temperature. And if his skin is not warm enough, then the heat in his gaze certainly is.

When you finish lacing his tunic, you again copy his actions and reach for his belt. His is more complicated than yours, with several sets of straps and buckles, but you make short work of it, standing closer than necessary just because you enjoy the way his breath catches each time you brush against him.

His hands are still pressing into your waist, and you slowly slide your own hands up his chest, eyes wandering over him ardently. He almost seems to be straining to keep from performing his usual activities in this room — sweeping you into his arms, undressing you, and setting your skin aflame with his mouth and hands — but as always, he masters his desire and lets you move your hands over him without resistance.

Sliding your hands over his skin, even through his tunic, is a continual reminder of the scars that cover his body, a constellation of marks that you have committed to memory by now.

Your hands continue their path upwards, smoothing across his broad shoulders, which tense under your touch. His dark eyes are locked on your lips now, his eyelashes a lovely contrast to the color of his skin. He swallows thickly, as if to suppress his thoughts, when your hands glide up to rest on both sides of his neck.

You can’t resist a giggle when your gaze falls on his hair, still thoroughly ruffled from the night before. He snaps out of his trance and smiles with you, not understanding what you are laughing at.

Without a word, you comb your right hand through his hair, marveling at how soft and silken it feels against your fingers. He actually closes his eyes at your touch, the softest breath escaping his lips. You can practically see the tension in his muscles relaxing, the hardened edges of his face softening.

How easy it is to forget that this man is still a stranger to a gentle touch, a tender embrace. His own touch is so light sometimes that you can almost forget his strength, that his hands are powerful enough to rip flesh from bone.

Seeing the look of utter calm on his face, you comb your fingers through his hair very slowly, dragging along his scalp in the way you know he enjoys. You thread your fingers over his temples, behind his ears, down the base of his neck, transfixed by the way he melts into your touch.

When you pause your stroking for a moment, he does not open his eyes, but rather leans forward a few inches, hands still gripping your waist. He touches his forehead softly against yours, as if he is simply breathing in your essence in this quiet moment.

“You are the first peace I have ever known,” he whispers to you in a voice that you know is reserved only for you.

And this, this, is what is most wonderful and unfamiliar of all — to have this man’s heart so completely surrendered to yours. He is not merely your lover or your bedfellow: he shares your heart, your home, your entire soul. Every night when he makes love to you, he whispers over and over that you are his saving grace, that he has waited his entire life to feel your heart beating in time with his.

This moment, feeling him quiet and still in your arms, his face touching yours, his soul laid bare before you, brings the familiar welling of tears to your eyes. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you draw him as close to you as you can and whisper the only words that come to your mind in this moment: “My love.”

His strong arms wrap around your waist a moment later, lifting you onto your toes and pressing you against his body. The morning sunlight filters through your window, sending soft beams of light to frame the two of you in your embrace. His lips touch your temple in the gentlest kiss, and you hear every unspoken word in the rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

The sun continues its usual climb into the sky, but neither of you takes a bit of notice. You are holding your entire world within the circle of your arms, and you are completely assured that the man you love is delighting in the same feeling.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

[libellule-ao3]

NSFW Alphabet | Ominis Gaunt

⚠️ Sexually explicit content | 🔞 | Smut | HC

Summary: Some of my smutty headcanons about Ominis Gaunt, collected under the "NSFW alphabet" template.

Also published on AO3

Others NSFW Alphabets: Dark!Ominis | Sebastian Sallow

Masterlist

 A = Aftercare

Ominis is a firm believer in consent and aftercare. He always makes sure you feel safe and cherished after sex, especially if he’s completely destroyed you.

B = Body part

Since he’s found other uses for it besides eating and communicating, his mouth is his favorite body part. He loves its sensitivity and the range of possibilities it offers: kissing, tasting, licking, nibbling, sucking, biting hard, lapping...

On the other hand, he doesn't like his legs, which seem too long.

His favorite part of your body is undoubtedly your silky, reactive skin, where he loves to find his own scent (a gentle reminder that you belong to him). Your skin tells your story and expresses the emotions that you keep silent and that he can't see. The skin on your face gets hotter when you’re excited or embarrassed, the skin on your hands gets clammy when you’re nervous... 

C = Cum

Cumming inside you is what he prefers, because it’s proof of your total acceptance of him. That said, the idea of perpetuating the Gaunt line anguishes him, so in the absence of contraception, he'll prefer to release himself in your mouth or on your languid body.

D = Dirty secret

At the very beginning of your sexual relationship, Ominis didn't dare let his dominant side express itself during intercourse because he didn't accept this dark side that demanded your total submission. Your enthusiasm when he finally dared to test the waters reassured him and he now fully accepts this inclination.

Ominis appreciates the exclusivity of your relationship. No third party has a place in your bedroom. Or so he claims. But deep down, his ultimate fantasy is a threesome with Sebastian... For the sake of the experience with the only other person with whom he shares a great deal of intimacy.

E = Experience

Ominis has little or no experience before meeting you, because he needs a partner he can trust, and he doesn’t grant it easily. And when it comes to something this intimate, it takes even longer. Your first time together is the fruit of your initiative, after you’ve dispelled his insecurities. Informed and intuitive, Ominis takes the time to get to know your body, and your pleasure helps him gain confidence.

F = favourite position

Ominis loves to feel your burning body squirming with pleasure beneath his, your legs trembling around his waist or on his shoulders, modulating your pleasure by changing the angle and rhythm of his thrusts, kissing you. His favorite positions are those that allow him to do just that.

G = Goofy

Ominis is serious about savoring the moment and intimacy with you. However, he won’t take offense if you laugh at a ticklish caress.

H = Hair

His face is always clean-shaven, and although his hairiness is sparse, he prefers his intimate area trimmed. He’s happy if you do the same, but he’ll never force you to.

I = Intimacy

Because Ominis loves you so much and feels safe with you, he’ll let himself go and be vulnerable, which opens the door to great intimacy during sex. He always likes to be as close to you as possible, wanting to touch you wherever he can put his hand or lips.

J = Jerking off

Solitary pleasures always seem a somewhat shameful action to him, as Ominis sees it as a lack of control over his impulses. But if your absence becomes intolerable, he may indulge his needs to make sure he can keep you on edge when you return.Sometimes he’ll enjoy stroking himself in front of you when you can’t touch him, just for the pleasure of hearing you beg.

K = Kink(s)

Whether it’s the melting of an ice cube on burning skin, a cascade of icy water on your spanked buttocks, or hot wax falling drop by drop before solidifying on your docile body to form a relief painting that his fingers run over with delight, Ominis loves the sensory intensity of temperature play.

Praise kink. Ominis never forget to say how desirable you are, or lde compliment the way you take him, so, so well.

Although he doesn’t show it, Ominis is very sensitive to your compliments. Probably because his existence has been too rarely appreciated in the past and a certain euphoria overcomes him when the most important person in his eyes gives him value.

L = Location

Ominis isn’t comfortable with the idea of being caught in the act, but as long as you can keep your private moments private, Ominis appreciates all kinds of places. (Even if what he prefers is the familiarity of his room or the places where he has his bearings)

M = Motivation

Many things can get him in the mood: a suggestive conversation, a languorous kiss, the undulations of your hips against his or, more simply, the smell of your arousal.

N = No

No matter how intense your games are , he’ll never neglect your physical, mental and emotional health. He makes a clear distinction between pain-pleasure and pain, which is nothing but suffering. So he’ll never inflict the latter on you, and will always respect your limits.

Sex in public. This is a categorical no. On the one hand, because he’s aware of the importance of preserving your reputation in an age when the consideration given to a woman depends largely on her virtue. And on the other, because he believes your lovemaking should remain private.

O = Oral

He loves giving as much as receiving oral pleasure. Burying his head between your trembling thighs is a divine pleasure, as is sinking into your greedy mouth.

P = Pace

Ominis usually fucks you sensuously, even when you want more passionate lovemaking, increasing the intensity of your carnal union as he approaches his climax. But if you need to be punished, he can possess you with a brutal frenzy, until he's sated and drained.

Q = Quicklies

Ominis prefers to take his time... But if your desire is urgent, he's ready to finger you on the spot until you orgasm on his fingers or eat you in a secret nook.

R = Risk

He definitely enjoys experimenting with you in the reassuring intimacy of your bedroom. He welcomes your fantasies without judgment.

S = Stamina

Ominis has patience and determination in spades. He can spend hours if you deserve it, whether for reward or punishment.

T = Toys

Ominis is quite traditional in this respect. He’d much rather feel your orgasm around his fingers, his cock, or on his tongue than use a dildo that prevents him from enjoying much of the pleasure he gives you. Apart from that, Ominis appreciates the use of various accessories to spice up your lovemaking.

U = Unfair

Ominis can be very unfair simply for the pleasure of hearing you beg and cry for him and your release. His favorite way to torment you: The edging. He loves to deprive you of your climax for the umpteenth time in a row, turning you into a whimpering mess so desperate that all rational thought leaves your mind. However, he refuses to let you end up frustrated, which is why he always lets you reach orgasm in the end.

V = Volume

He’s vocal, but part of him will always instinctively try to hold back, because he’s so self-aware. He muffles his moans and groans in your burning skin when he becomes impatient and excited, savoring how soft you are. But he loves to hear you. He demands that you let it all out, every cry, every moan, every gasp, because he knows how to interpret every note to give you maximum pleasure.

W = Wild Card

Ominis likes to be in control, so he likes to dominate you, but he’ll gradually learn to appreciate the release offered by submission and thus vary the pleasures.

Ominis got into the habit before his magic was revealed of carefully storing his belongings so that he could find them easily despite his blindness, and it’s a habit he’s kept as an adult, including during intimate moments. That said, he could do it quickly, but he sometimes takes a perverse pleasure in taking his time while you’re naked, waiting impatiently for him to fuck you.

You were very surprised the first time you heard him let out a few words in parseltongue at the height of his pleasure. Because he's always associated this ability with the Dark Arts, Ominis was quite confused and embarrassed... Until you admitted that his sinister hiss intensifies your natural lubrication.

X = X-Ray

Ominis is slim, with a fine musculature. His skin is clear as porcelain, a constellation of moles stretching from his flank to his pubis. His nipples are the same pink as his lips. Ominis is rather well equipped in terms of length and girth, without being out of the ordinary...

Y = Yearning (libido)

Ominis’ libido was rather low before he met you. With you, however, he finds himself aroused more often than he’d like, which causes him some embarrassment.

Z = Zzz

He never falls asleep before you do. He waits patiently for your breathing to slow down and become slow and deep, etching in his memory the memories of your last lovemaking. 

[sageispunk]

Fontaine NSFW Alphabet 🖤

pairing: Fontaine x black! (fem) reader

wordcount: 4.7k (def the longest thing i've written so far)

warnings: besides a mention of gunplay (letter R-risk), i have no warnings for you <3

A/N: inspired by finally rewatching TCT after a few months of avoiding it LOL but feel free to follow my sideblog @sageispunklibrary and turn on notifs to be updated when i post!!

a: aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fontaine is so much more gentle afterwards than you’d expected. He’s really just a big ass teddy bear–once he’s satisfied with the amount of orgasms the both of you have totaled up for the night, he cleans you up and then himself, bringing you a glass of ice cold water (you had to get him to invest in a water filter for his fridge) and maybe a quick snack before letting you rest on his chest. The two of you tend to play either one of your comfort shows until you fall asleep, or an old-school r&b mixtape is playing in the CD player with all the lights out. Either way, your ear is comfortably resting directly above his thumping heart while his fingers massage gentle circles into your scalp, his soft lips leaving kisses on your forehead as you snuggle into him. 

b: body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of himself would be his arms, halfway due to all the work he’s put into building them, and halfway due to your own love for them. Nothing would make him feel more like a bad bitch than the way you’d watch him lifting from across the street, on your own porch, half-pretending to read one of your newest library loans. When you’d accidentally make eye-contact, he would continue with his set, almost cockily nodding his head up at you, grinning on the inside at the way your bottom lip was firmly held between your teeth. Your own eyes wide and fully taking in the sight of his sweaty body, especially those arms that were so big and so strong, and always kept your body glued to his in those late night moments of passion that you shared.

His favorite body part of yours was your tummy. When you first moved into the neighborhood, he couldn’t help but notice your natural inclination to have your belly out, in a crop top, in a bandeau, a bikini top–every time you stepped out the house, he would fight mental battles to keep his dick down in his sweats. You looked so soft, with your lil rolls and faded stretch marks, not to mention the perfect piece of silver jewelry that you kept on your belly button. When you first started hanging out, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes always lingering on your tummy, and for a moment, it made you slightly self-conscious about it. That is, until you became closer, physically, and he would show you just how much he loved your body, with his big fingers caressing your soft skin as he traced your stripes, and his lips laying gentle kisses along each curve..It was his favorite place to rest and worship.

c: cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Fontaine cums a lot. Like, a lot. You sometimes joke about getting a glass to see if he could fill it to the top. (He brushes you off but you’ll wear him down one day). He prefers to cum inside of you though, so both of you can feel his release, and especially so he can watch it all drip out of you when you’re too exhausted to move. It’s his way of claiming you, marking his territory in a sense (and he couldn’t wait until your birth control was ready to come out of your arm, just so he could watch his seed grow inside of you). His second favorite spot to cum was on your lower belly, after a good session of fucking you hard and deep with your feet touching the headboard, making you squirt over and over again until neither of you could take it anymore. He’d pull out, groaning and stroking furiously until his milky nut spilled out over your brown skin, rubbing it in with his sensitive tip as he empties out. (Bonus points if you swipe all his cum up with your fingers and stick them in your mouth, swallowing it all down while he watches you–he’d be ready to go again right after that).

d: dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Fontaine’s dirty secret is his foot fetish. He’s not super freaky about it, but he does loveee to rub on your feet when you rest your legs across his lap, and suck on your toes anytime he has you laid back with your legs on his shoulders. And when you realize he loves your cute lil feet so much, you start letting him pick out the color every time you go to the salon, which gets him even more excited to play with your feet. He knows you’re ticklish so he tries not to mess around too much, but he does love to watch you squirm as his tongue wiggles itself between toes, knowing that you could feel each spark of electricity running all the way from your feet directly to your throbbing pussy. 

 e: experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s experienced, like look at him, he’s had his fair share of slutting it up, but the two of you don’t talk about your past flings or relationships because they’re irrelevant, plus you both tend to get a little jealous. You’re glad for his experience though, because there hasn’t been a time where you’ve fucked and you were left without an orgasm–he typically makes you cum about two or three times before he even does. He likes to take care of you, and he knows how to take his time to study your body and pay attention to what makes you completely unravel for him, and if you have to thank all the lovely women he was with before you for all the dutiful patience he has with you, then you will. Hypothetically.

f: favorite position (this goes without saying)

Fontaine’s favorite position is cowgirl. He loves to watch you take control, to show him how much you want it. He can also see everything in this position, except your ass of course, but he makes up for that by having at least one hand firmly planted on a cheek the whole time, roughly slapping it every now and then. He can never make up his mind when it comes to watching you ride him, eyes wandering everywhere–from your pleasure-ridden face and scrunched up eyebrows, to your breasts bouncing and swaying in his face, hard nipples and beautiful dark areolas damn near making him drool down his chin, that soft tummy he loves so much, jiggling with every movement you make on top of him, and lastly–that sopping wet cunt of yours. His eyes watch your pussy swallow him whole, covering every inch of his throbbing length in your juices and cream, the stickiness dripping down onto him and coating his own trimmed base, the sounds emanating from where you meet downright filthy and almost pornographic. You love to tease him in this position, especially once you prop yourself up on your feet with your hands on his shoulders, riding slow and watching his eyes get lower as he gets closer. He tries his hardest to keep his legs from shaking, especially once you start bouncing and teasing only his tip, with a drunken grin on your face. Another reason he loves this position so much is because he can so quickly snatch that power right back from you, especially in moments like these. Planting his feet down on the mattress and gripping onto your waist, he begins thrusting up into you like there’s no tomorrow, immediately pulling screams and cries out of you and demanding that you keep your teary eyes on him the entire time. 

g: goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood tbh. Usually he’s more serious and quite determined to get you there, mind focused on you and your pleasure…but there will always going to be moments where the two of you try out a new position and it’s not going very well, or you’re a bit too pent up and trying to blindly undress while making out and your faces collide in a rather unpleasant way…moments like these are where he’s more likely to get a little goofy with you, smiling and chuckling at the silliness of it all. These are probably the most intimate times you have with him.

h: hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Ngl, before he met you, he was just letting it all grow out how it wanted to, thick curly pubes spreading down from his happy trail—which you love to tickle and kiss on—but he started trimming down there, not wanting the hair to get in your way when you’re busy blowing his mind away, literally. Sometimes you think he’s figured out that you actually love the way his pubes slightly tickle your nose when you get all the way down to the base. 

i: intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Fontaine is very intimate, especially when the two of you are alone, in the comfort of his or your home. He always has to be touching on you—rubbing, caressing, massaging, kissing. And it’s 10x worse when you’re in the bed. Once you’ve passed the foreplay and teasing stage of your nightly passions, he can’t stand for your body to be separated from his. His big body enveloped yours, especially when he was on top, closing you in and creating a warm, safe barrier from the outside world. Holding your hands as he pinned them against the pillows, stroking deep into you with a strong and unbeatable rhythm. Eye-contact is huge for him as well, at any time of the day, in any position. Your beautiful brown eyes never failed to hypnotize him, sending him into a trance in which his only duty was to leave you shaking and spent on his bed. 

j: jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Generally, he doesn’t masturbate much, he’s too busy trying to take care of business most of the time. But since you started sending daily pics to his phone of you…after your showers, in bed, during a bath, nearly anywhere you could show a lil extra skin…He never cared for having a smartphone, other than the fact that everyone had one these days, but you made a habit of texting him spontaneous nudes, he knew there was no going back. At this point, you’ve damn near Pavlov’d him with the buzzing of his phone, once he saw your name in the notifications, his dick began to harden almost immediately. It was becoming a problem, he’d have to dip out of wherever he was just to calm himself down. Driving to an empty parking lot or a quiet alley to release his frustrations into his palm, half angry at you for teasing him while you knew he was busy, but also at himself for being so weak for you. When you gave him the bright idea to get you back by sending his own vids in response…there was no turning back for either of you. And when he really wants to fuck with you, he’ll take the sound off the video before he sends, knowing how frustrated you’d get at seeing him spill his nut all over his fingers and lap without all his beautiful grunts and moans. 

k: kink (one or more of their kinks)

Fontaine’s top favorite kinks: edging and breeding. With edging, he loves to be both on the receiving and giving ends with you. There’s no better feeling than when he can order you to keep your hands behind your back as you lie against your soft down pillows, while he kneels between your legs, alternating between teasing your skin with the tip of his tongue, sucking on your precious, sensitive clit, and notching his digits deep inside you to stimulate your g-spot. Never letting you cum immediately, cockily grinning and basking in your oh-so-eager cries to let go, all over his face and fingers. When the roles are reversed, he tends to get frustrated, with you, with himself, with the whole damn situation, but god, does it make the orgasm so much better when it finally comes. He gives up full control to you, allowing you to take him however you wanted–your favorite ways to edge him are with your mouth, your soft, plump lips firmly wrapped around the tip of his dick while you play with his full and heavy balls, removing all touch every time he gets too close; or when you’re on top, making good use of your gym-built Megan Knees with some speedy but rhythmic bouncing on his dick, taking in the sounds of both your gushing pussy and Fontaine’s breathy whines from underneath you.

l: location (favorite places to do the do)

Besides either of your homes, his favorite place to fuck you is his car. He loves the riskiness of it all, the possibility of getting caught in the back of his old-school Pontiac with his face buried deep in your pussy. In broad daylight. When he’s driving you around town, his hand is always on your thigh, and if you happen to be wearing one of those short skirts that you like to prance around in…there’s no keeping his deft fingers from traveling in between your thighs. And when he brings those same fingers, now glistening with your sticky release, straight to his mouth with his eyes focused on yours…the look on your face is what tells him that he needs to pull over immediately. In the backseat, no position is off limits, he makes the space work for the both of you. If no one is kneeling between the other’s legs, then you’re using your flexibility to get into cowgirl–regular and reverse–or doggy style with your ass tooted all the way up and your face in the seats, or even the infamous spider position (that one is guaranteed to bring some giggles out of you). 

m: motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What gets him going is your voice. That’s all he needs, really. That and your face. When you send him selfies and little audio messages to update him on your day, he can’t help but to smile, immediately feeling the burden of his work falling off of his shoulders. If alone, he’d shuffle in his sweats, adjusting his length, which was hardening at the thought of just being there with you. Don’t even get him started on the racy lewds you’d send him with invisible ink…immediately excusing himself to the restroom to take care of it. In person, he’s the same way– constantly staring at your face as you speak, holding strong eye contact and observing all your features and mannerisms. At first, you thought it was him trying to intimidate you or make you shy, but you realized that it’s just what gets him all revved up, you get him all amped up, simply by existing as you are.

n: no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Fontaine wouldn’t do anything that could genuinely harm you or possibly send you to the hospital. He’s typically more resistant to trying new things but anything you would want to try, as long as it’s safe for the both of you, he would.

o: oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh he loveeees to give, being able to look up at you as he makes you shake and quiver with just his lips and tongue is what gets him going throughout the day. The first time he ate you out, you watched with wide eyes as he ravenously slurped and sucked on your lower lips and swollen clit, with fingers simultaneously manipulating all your inner spots. You came in under a minute and once the vision was restored in your eyes, you realized you’d never let that man go. When it comes to him receiving, he pretends not to love the intense teasing you enjoy giving him, but deep down it's his favorite part. The power and confidence that spreads across your face as you watch him gasping and shuddering under your tongue and fingers is something he loves to witness. Another thing that gives him life is when you get bold enough to take him all the way down your throat, holding it there and letting the gagging sounds fill the room. When he gets you to look up at him with a mouthful of dick and a chin dripping a sinful mix of spit and precum, your eyes all low and watery…he knows that you're his and he’s yours. 

p: pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This also depends on the mood. The fast and rough Fontaine is typically reserved for moments in which he needs to release lots of stress or frustration, or he knows that you need to after a long day. He does a great job of roughing you up when he’s like this, gripping and grabbing onto any part of you just to keep you close to him, your ass, your tits, your hair…there was even that one time he pulled you closer with a hand on your pussy. This Fontaine is a bit of a sadist, he revels in the sounds of you begging and whining, finding great pleasure in the way your entire body would shudder when he spanked your bare ass. You beg him to go faster, harder, deeper, with a hand around your throat, or two. He always obliges, never stopping until the both of you are emptied and nearly passed out. Slow and sensual Fontaine is the one that shows up when he just needs you and your love. These are his more intimate times, both his hands finding solace someplace on your body while his eyes are firmly locked in on your own brown orbs. He loves to watch your face while he strokes deep inside you, his hips moving in slow, intricate waves as they search to locate every pleasure spot within your sugar walls.

q: quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Fontaine isn’t really one for quickies, unless it’s one of your midday car adventures. Any other time, if you both were that needy to get nasty, you’d just cancel on whatever you were going to do, and if you were already out, then you’d simply go home. He just loves to take his time with you so rushing through a quickie isn’t something he particularly enjoys. If anything, he would let the sexual frustration between you build up until you’re back home, so everything hits 10x better with that extra tension that needs to be released. 

r: risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Fontaine is game to experiment with you most of the time, even if he is a bit hesitant. After all, you were the one that introduced him to bondage, gentle femdom, anal…and possibly even pegging (if ur into that🫣). All of which he’s enjoyed. The biggest risk he ever took with you was indulging your slight gun kink. You’d been interested in gunplay long before you met him but you never wanted to buy your own gun, nor did you date anyone with guns. When you saw his piece the first time, the dark, cold metal tucked carefully into his waistband, he could already see the raw curiosity behind your eyes. He had to teach you gun safety of course, during which he was the most serious you’d ever seen him. You set up boundaries with each other, like you always do when introducing something new in your bedroom, and once he felt that both of you were ready, he was happy to oblige you. (There is a continuation of this on Ao3).

s: stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Fontaine has great stamina, compared to most that you’ve slept with. On average, he can hold his own nut off to make you cum at least two or three or maybe even four times before he does, then once he cums, he can go 1 more time almost immediately after, especially if you’re still up and ready for more. Usually, the sex lasts for at least a couple hours, given both his and your love for foreplay. There was one night that you both had been so pent up, you managed to fuck until the sun literally came up, with small breaks in between each round of course. Still, it was the longest you'd ever had sex, and you both spent the whole day sleeping off your soreness.

t: toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Fontaine doesn’t own any toys of his own, he’s considered getting a cock ring for foreplay, but hasn’t made the purchase yet. However, he does love to use your toys on you whenever you’re at your place. The rose and dick combo for when he wants you crying and twitching, the dildo for when his own dick is recovering but you still wanna cum, your cute pink buttplug that he’ll make you wear while he trains your throat…He is not a man who’s afraid of using toys on his partner, at all. Hell, he’s even let you use your wand on his dick and balls, granted…he was tied to the bed and couldn’t do much about it, but the nut that came from it was something out of this world. 

u: unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he’s a huge tease. Back to you guys exchanging nudes, he’s grown to love sending his own pics and vids of himself, stroking and cumming and groaning your name, especially when you’re away and busy with work or school. And if you’ve been particularly unfair with him lately, you can almost guarantee that he’ll send you something with either the end of the video cut off, or the audio off, just to get you ramped up. One time, you were on a trip with your girls, away for only three days, which was apparently too much for Fontaine. In the middle of the second night, he wanted you to call for a nice little facetime session, but you were out in a bar with your friends, unaware of the multitude of messages and calls hitting your phone. 

When you’d arrived back at the hotel, you opened up the messages and noticed one of the last ones was a video, about 5 minutes long, followed by a goodnight text. Once your friends were asleep, you snuck away to the bathroom to watch the video. He was in his car, phone held in front of him while his other hand stroked his dick. You bit your lip watching, slipping your own hand into your pajama shorts to match his own movements with gentle circles around your clit. Your eyes shifted from his dick to his slightly exposed tummy and happy trail to his plump lips at the top of the screen. He spoke so many dirty things while he jerked off for you, seemingly rambling on about what he wanted to do to you, with you, in and on you…and what he wanted you to do to him. How good you make him feel, how much he misses you, how he hopes you’re not having too much fun without him. 

By the 4 minute mark, both of you were already close, trembling and desperate for a release, but you held off yours so you cum at the same time as he did on the video. The end was nearing and you didn’t know how long you could hold it off for, but the pitch of his voice was elevating so you knew he was close. You cursed as the time reached 4:35, only ten seconds left and he still hasn’t cum. He moaned out a few curses himself before a breathy I love you escaped his lips, the three words immediately causing your body to jerk. You kept your eyes glued to the screen as your fingers continued circling quickly, wanting to see him spill all over his fingers so you could cum too. You heard that familiar gasp he always does before he cums, but just as soon as that final excitement rose, it crashed, the video ending and your orgasm fading away too quickly for you to catch up. 

v: volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Fontaine is not much of a loud lover until you’re in control. He’s nowhere near quiet, but any other time, he’s more focused on making you scream, his own moans getting lost in your sounds. When he’s under your reign and domination, he’s damn near transformed into an opera singer. He’s loudest when you’re edging him, and especially once you let him cum after so many missed orgasms. Deep, feral groans turn into whiny moans, which turn into cries and breathy pleading for you to give him relief. You love it when he sings for you, and he knows it. That’s why he never holds back, regardless of whichever roles you two are playing. 

w: wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Using this to expand on his breeding kink from earlier. As stated before, one of Fontaine’s top kinks is breeding. He loves cumming inside of you, and even though you use birth control, he can’t help but imagine you pregnant and full of his child each time. He loves to watch his nut drip out of you, just for the visual proof that you’re all his, but something he loves more is to fuck it all back inside of you, with his fingers or his dick, it doesn’t matter. When he’s in it, he can’t help but taunt you with all the dirty thoughts floating around in his head. Whispering in your ear about whether or not your silly little pill is strong enough to beat all the cum he’s leaving deep inside you, asking you about baby names, where you should look for a new house, and how much you want to go shopping for maternity clothes…By the end, there’s nothing on your mind but the fact that you would look so pretty with a full, round belly to show everyone around town that you belong to him, and him only. 

x: x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

We already know Taine is thick…thick thighs, a lil belly and some strong ass arms. He’s also fairly hairy, which isn’t a surprise considering his full beard and mustache. I’d also like to imagine him as being at least 6ft, so big and tall and strong enough to pick you up and throw you across the room. His dick…is thick but not so much that it hurts to get your lips around it, and it’s about 7, 7.5 inches fully hard, so not too big and not too small. It’s mostly evenly toned, dark brown with a slightly darker head. (Honestly, I’m gonna stop here because I’m feeling very depraved writing these details LMAO just imagine his dick how you want it).

y: yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fontaine’s sex drive wasn’t crazy high till he met you, then he quickly learned to match your energy. When he’s busy with work, he has to literally avoid his phone so he doesn’t think too much about you, because you’re a distraction, sexually and non-sexually. Especially if you’re sending him your little pics and voice notes throughout the day, once he catches a glimpse of your face or hears your voice, there’s almost no stopping him from daydreaming about the two of you the night before, dick growing uncomfortably hard in his jeans, causing him to excuse himself from everyone. 

z: zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep that quickly afterwards especially if he was the one doing the domming, mostly because he tries to make sure you’re all comfortable and taken care of before he even lays down. Now, if you were the one wearing him out, you just let him lie down and relax while you clean up. Either way, once you’re both clean and refreshed, cuddling and relaxing with a fan and music playing, you’re falling asleep nearly at the same time.

A/N: Sooooo, it's finally finished, sorry to you all who had been waiting on this for so long!!! Last semester was tough and ripped away all my motivation to write fr but I'm backkkk and I hope y'all enjoy reading this, lmk what you think in the comments and please like and reblog as well! 🫶🏾

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

[euseokz]

@ sohee — i’ve been wanting you for so long, how could i say no when you finally feel the same way ? . cws : unprotected sex . creampie . oral (f) - only one mention . wc : 1.4k+ . genre : smut

a/n : this might actually be my favorite thing i’ve written so far i swear 😭 i also 100% blame @dearmyouth for this, thank you for giving me the sohee brainrot i finally get the hype 🙌🏻

BEST-FRIEND! SOHEE who has never been particularly good at hiding his attraction towards you.

it wasn’t like he ever acted on it or made you feel uncomfortable because of it, all the glances he took up and down your body discrete enough, and any riskier touches he dared somehow always safe enough to still be passed as coming from a friend who just happened to be a bit clingier. you were pretty close after all, so no one ever suspected a thing — however, you did notice those small details, to you they were pretty obvious at least.

you knew how sohee looked at his other friends, and you also knew how he looked at the girls he found attractive, and his gaze towards you somehow always seemed to lean more towards the latter. you also knew that even on his clingiest days he was never as clingy as he always seemed to be when it came to you, especially when you two were alone. you had always known he liked you, and assumed it was just a small crush at most, so you never cared, thinking it would eventually go away, that he’d get tired of it and move on.

apparently though, that wouldn’t be the case.

over time sohee seemed to get more desperate. he was still never disrespectful, but you could see his slip ups, how he’d make comments that had a double meaning without noticing, ending up blushing and getting a bit awkward when he did process his words, or how he’d reach out to hold your hand or hug you when he had never seemed all that inclined towards that sort of more intimate gesture in the first place. it was getting to be too much, and what you thought would be something temporary, was very quickly proving itself to be quite the opposite. you almost felt bad for sohee, because you could see how guilty he felt over the whole thing, and you thought that was endearing, how he valued your friendship enough to not wanna risk losing it over his own feelings.

maybe all he needed was a little sign, something that would let him know that maybe you weren’t so against exploring a romantic relationship with him after all — so you gave him just that, asking him if he wanted to kiss you one night when you found yourselves all alone in his apartment, the tv screen the only thing lightning up the living room as you both talked to each other, barely paying attention to whatever was paying.

even in the dim-lighted room you could see how sohee’s eyes kept darting towards your lips when you spoke, how his own stayed parted whenever he didn’t chew on them anxiously. how his hands seemed to seek yours, inching closer to you under the wide blanket you shared only to snap back to his lap when he noticed what he was doing. you thought you could also see a faint blush adorn his cheeks up to the tip of his ears, and as if that wasn’t enough motivation for you to want to tease him a bit, you eventually noticed the small tent forming on his crotch once the topic of your conversation turned to one ever so slightly spicier — that truly being the last drop, the last reason you needed to ask him if he wanted to kiss you.

sohee stumbled on his words when the question left your mouth, and you could almost see the gears turning inside his head, temptation and lust very clearly starting to cloud his judgment as he looked at you, eyes focused on yours. he did utter out a small “yeah” though, immediately taking the first step and guiding you to lay down on the couch, going to hover over you, his face mere centimeters away from yours. you could also see the last bits of self-restraint leaving his body when he asked you if you were sure, and as soon as you said “yes”, he was on you, his lips ravaging yours as if he had been dreaming of that moment for years (which, all things considered, he had).

sohee’s touch could only be described as curious and desperate at that moment. his kiss was needy, thirsty, tasting every bit of you he could and damn near begging for more when he felt you pull away for a breath of air. both your lips were red and shiny after the first round, the seconds you spent in silence being occupied by your eyes locked on each other, as if you were having a silent conversation, wordlessly agreeing that a kiss, although nice, wasn’t enough.

when he leaned down again, sohee kept up the energy. his lips pressed into yours frantically, his teeth even clanking against yours and his tongue reaching to explore every bit of you it could. this time though his hands didn’t stay politely by your sides, instead traveling up and down your body, sneaking under your shirt and feeling up directly against your skin, smiling against your lips because of the small trail of goosebumps his cold fingers left behind. somewhere along the way, between a lot of kissing and small, shy moans being shared, you finally found yourselves naked, distinct piles of clothes scattered around the dark living room’s floor and your bodies back on the couch, sohee sitting down in the middle of it with his legs spread while you were on top of him, slowing lowering yourself on his cock. you were absolutely soaked — he had made sure of that by making you cum on his tongue once before — and his dick was as hard as it had ever been, his erection painful if he was being honest, fat beads of pre-cum slipping past his slit and dampening his pink tip, leaving a shiny trail from it down to his base.

once you had finally pushed all of sohee into your heat, you both sighed in relief — said relief being short-lived because your combined desperation quickly kicked in, leaving you both eager for more. you started moving up and down on sohee’s lap, his hands resting at your waist, helping guide you, while loud lewd sounds spread across the room, your moans shameless and the sticky sound of your slick mixing with his pre-cum as your hips hit against sohee’s didn’t help in any way. you didn’t care though, already too overtaken by your own arousals, only focused on each other, on how you felt.

sohee filled you up perfectly, as if his cock had been made for your cunt, his tip hitting the perfect spot when he bottomed out, making you mewl his name, asking for more — and because he could never say no to you, sohee stopped you for a second just so he could flip you both, changing position so you laid on the couch and he was on top of you, your legs circled around his waist tightly and his chest pressed flush against yours, one of his arms laced around your waist while his other hand had it’s fingers digging into one of your thighs. your bodies were glued to each other, so up-close you swore you had never been as pressed up against another person. you felt every single one of sohee’s movements — felt his abdomen tense when he pistoned his hips into yours, his thighs tense with every thrust, even how uneven his breath was because of the way his chest moved up and down. it was personal, as intimate as sex could be, and you weren’t sure you would be able to live without it now that you had experienced it.

sohee kept going, moving in and out of you swiftly and whispering small nothings against your neck, telling you how pretty you were, how good you felt, how badly he had been wanting this. he was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice his orgasm approaching, only taking note when it was too late and his dick was twitching inside your pussy, filling you up with cum to the brim. you didn’t mind though, and although the feeling of his seed spilling into you brought sohee out of his trance almost immediately, barely even able to enjoy his orgasm out of worriedness, it only heightened your pleasure, his high triggering yours as you came around him, plush walls pulsing around his cock and milking him dry, creaming around his girth as you screamed his name. seeing your state made sohee get back into it, his apprehensiveness lasting nothing more than a few seconds as he continued with his movements, thrusting into you now at a slower pace, letting you both catch your breath while you calmed down.

it all felt a bit surreal, how sudden everything seemed to have happened and most of all how good it all felt, but you knew that wouldn’t be the last time you’d experience it — you’d make sure it wasn’t.

[merakiui]

In your opinion, where do you think those silly eels would live? Would Jade be in a cabin up in the mountains somewhere? Would Floyd just go back to the sea? And if he didn't, what environment and house would he live at? I really can't think of one for him and I love how realistic you are in writing the twins. Hence why I ask you. If you don't mind answering of course!

:O this is so fun to consider!!! Please forgive such a long ramble. I love dissecting these eels at any given opportunity. Thank you for saying my portrayal of them is realistic!! :D

I can definitely envision Jade living his cottagecore life in the woods or mountains. Anywhere that's isolated within the embrace of nature because that gives him all the time in the world to go on hikes and admire the scenery, and he has access to so many delicious things for foraging!!! But then I feel like he couldn't do it forever?? I've seen the argument that Floyd can function on his own perfectly fine, but it's Jade who prefers to lean on the company of him or Azul. I think their dreams in book 7 were really telling. As silly as Jade's dream was, it still included Azul and Floyd because they are such essential parts of Jade's life and he cares about them so much.

Part of me thinks he'd live in different environments from time to time just to sate his curiosity or immerse himself in a place he enjoys, but I think a lot of this would be temporary. Jade would like to live in a place where he has access to his favorite people, but it also allows him to have his alone time when needed. He can be just as spontaneous and whimsical as Floyd, so perhaps this is seen in how he explores the world and lives in both land and sea. I could see him being a world traveler,,, tbh though he's a Leech, so the world is basically his oyster and nothing is too crazy or impossible. T_T he could genuinely do anything,, money is never an issue for him.

As for Floyd!!! I'm inclined to place him in a city. I feel like the busy hustle and bustle of a city is exciting to Floyd. There's so much to do in a big city and so many parts and places to see and explore. Maybe I'm just severely the law of magnetism-brained because Floyd lives in the city in that fic, but I do think he'd enjoy city life. He's an independent guy, but I also think he can't do too much independence otherwise he's prone to stagnation like what we saw in his book 7 dream, where he did everything he wanted to do and then quickly became bored.

So similar to Jade, I think Floyd could live in a city for a select amount of time, but inevitably he might wish to go elsewhere once the shine wears off or if it's not everything he's looking for anymore. Since he's young, I imagine he'd want to travel and see lots of places much like Jade. I don't think either of them does so with the intention of settling down quite yet. And that's perfectly logical. Imagining they're both fresh out of NRC and in their early twenties, it makes sense for the both of them to be in a place where they're still finding their footing in the world.

Of course if you ask either of them their home is always going to be the Coral Sea. That's where their childhood home and family are. The sea is very cherished by both eels. They always mention it in-game, and I think it's not just because they're merfolk and the land and sea are very different; but also because they love sharing the beauty and wonders of the sea with others. The sea carries a lot of sentimental value to them.

Perhaps I'm delusional, but I think it's cute to imagine the eels wanting to share such an important piece of their background with you. >w< so perhaps they'll inevitably return to the sea one day,, maybe that's where they both retire when they're older. Until then, though, a lot of their early life is filled with exploration throughout various environments. For Jade, I imagine it's places like quaint villages (think a place like Harveston), the mountains, or the forest. For Floyd, I imagine busy cities, well-populated islands, or maybe even somewhere rural if it's interesting enough to him.

AS FOR HOUSES BECAUSE I ALMOST FORGOT!!!!! I love placing Floyd in a penthouse and thinking about Jade in somewhere small but smart with space,, like a comfy cottage. Floyd can be impulsive and a touch materialistic at times, so I feel like he'd buy a penthouse suite solely for the extra space and then eventually realize it's either not for him or just what he wanted. He's the type to turn a wine cellar into a storage room for all of his luxury brand shoes LOL. But then it really depends with him. Jade, too...... (un)realistically maybe they both start with a little apartment somewhere. It's not the best, but it's good enough for them being fresh out of school and searching for jobs. Realistically, they come from a family that has MONEY and so their living arrangements are probably considerably more luxurious from the get-go. T_T

Alas,,, these are the thoughts!! <3

[amethystarachnid]

Hey! If your taking requests, I love your work so much and I had an idea I would really love to see how you execute it.

So it would be with Tony Stark, and if its okay Male!Reader, but not romantic, the reader is a teen who is a product of some old fling Tony had and after being poorly taken care of by his mom (whatever that inclines you to write, abuse, bad boyfriend, alcoholism etc.) She dumps him off at stark tower with a note and what little belongings the reader has and his birth certificate to Tony for him to take care of. And the rest of what happens from there is up to you! Basically heavy on the found family troupe, and a little angst with some good fluff. The reader can be from 16-18 still in high school. He has Tony's sarcastic humor and smarts, but he nodes his intelligence because his mom never really helped him appreciate it, basically one of those kids that gets straight A's without seemingly trying and looking kind of stupid, the reader is quiet and a bit cold but that's because of how he was raised, and isn't one to share how he's feeling. If you can do this I'd be so thankful, if not its completely understandable, I hope I gave you enough creative liberty to make it fun, I know it'll be great if you do write it! Again I love your fics so much and I can't wait to read more of what you have!!💜☺

LEGACY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, a lot of angst and some fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: literally what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abusive household and rader feeling like people keep abandoning him

ᯓ★ Thank you so much for your request and for liking my work! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

Your whole life, you’ve never known stability. The cramped apartments, the ever-shifting walls painted in hues of desperation, are as familiar to you as your own skin. You’re seventeen now, but you still feel like you’re stuck in this never-ending carousel of uncertainty and survival. Your mom—who’s always been more into herself than anyone else—has a way of shoving her problems under the rug, sweeping you along with the mess until you’re barely holding it together.

Her boyfriend—if you could even call him that—is the latest problem. Travis is the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much to make his point clear. It’s in the way he takes up space, fills every room with his presence, making himself the center of your lives as if it’s his right. He started coming around when you were fourteen, and it’s only gotten worse. You know he hates you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. To him, you’re a nuisance, some extra baggage he never asked for, and he’s got no problem reminding you of that. Your sarcasm and quick wit, the things that make you, you, are just more reasons for him to snap, roll his eyes, or call you ungrateful.

Your mom’s always been…complicated. You’ve known that since you were little, watching her go from one relationship to another, always searching for some kind of validation she never seems to find. She calls herself a free spirit, but it’s like she’s just drifting, lost in a fog of her own making. She can be fun, sure, when things are good. There were even moments when you thought she really loved you. But as time went on, you learned to read the signs: the distant glances, the subtle irritations, the way she avoids looking at you for too long, as if you’re some kind of mirror she doesn’t want to face.

It’s your intelligence that bugs her the most, you think. You see through her, every lie, every excuse, every careless decision. And she knows it. It’s like looking into a warped mirror—she can see pieces of herself in you, but you’re everything she’s never been: sharp, observant, with a mind that doesn’t let things slide. And it grates on her.

The fights get worse as you grow older, each one escalating faster than the last. Your sarcasm is your armor, your way of dealing with the endless cycle of disappointment. But every quip, every clever retort, only makes her angrier. You can tell she hates that she can’t control you, can’t manipulate you the way she does with everyone else in her life. She calls you difficult, a burden, a mistake she should’ve never had. You don’t let it show, but each word leaves a scar, another reminder that you’re on your own.

Then one day, it’s too much. Travis and your mom are fighting—again. It’s loud, voices echoing in the small apartment, and you’re in your room, trying to block it out like usual. But this time, you hear your name. You’ve been in this situation enough to know that’s never a good sign. So, you stay quiet, waiting, listening.

“You know he’s not even mine, right?” Travis snaps, his voice dripping with frustration. “Why do I have to put up with this kid? He’s not my responsibility!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Your mom’s voice is strained, like she’s barely holding on herself. “I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—but he’s just…he’s too much. I can’t handle it anymore.”

There’s a pause, and for a second, you think maybe she’ll say something else, something that makes it sound like she cares. But the words never come.

“Then get rid of him,” Travis says, so bluntly that it leaves a chill in the air. “You’ve got the kid’s birth certificate. Drop him off at his real dad’s. He’s rich, isn’t he? Let him deal with the brat.”

You don’t move. You barely breathe. But deep down, you already know this is it. There’s no fighting it this time, no clever comment to deflect what’s happening. She’s made her choice, and it’s not you.

The next morning, she’s silent as she hands you an envelope. There’s no apology, no excuse, just a look that tells you she’s already gone, checked out of whatever shred of motherhood she once claimed to have. You don’t even ask where you’re going; you know the answer as soon as you see the address on the piece of paper.

Stark Tower.

It feels like a final act of cruelty, really. The man she’s always refused to talk about, the one figure in your life who’s only ever been a name, and now he’s your last option. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, Avenger. And, apparently, your father.

You stand outside Stark Tower with a single bag of your things and that stupid piece of paper—the birth certificate that’s somehow supposed to mean you’re his problem now. You feel like you’re stuck in some cosmic joke, a punchline to a story you didn’t even know you were a part of. There’s no going back, though. That’s clear enough.

So, you take a deep breath, adjust your bag on your shoulder, and walk through the doors.

Tony doesn’t even get a chance to process it at first. One moment he’s sipping coffee in his lab, deep in the flow of something unnecessarily complex that’s keeping his mind busy, and the next, Pepper is calling him down to the lobby. She sounds irritated, stressed—like maybe it’s his fault, which Tony wouldn’t be surprised by, honestly. He heads down, muttering about "another hero here to tell me how to do my job."

Then he sees you.

You’re leaning against the glass wall, wearing an expression that’s somehow familiar yet entirely alien to him. It’s not hard to recognize the mix of defiance and exhaustion in your eyes; he’s spent years perfecting that look himself. But the shock doesn’t really hit until you hand him the birth certificate. Your name and his, right there in black and white, unavoidably real.

For once in his life, Tony Stark is speechless.

“Seventeen years,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “And now you’re here because…?”

You shrug, clearly unimpressed. “Mom didn’t want me anymore, and apparently, you’re my dad. So… here I am. Congratulations.”

You’re blunt, almost cruel in the way you say it, like you don’t expect anything from him and don’t care if you get it. But he can’t look away from you. For the first time in a long time, he’s out of his depth. He’s had seventeen years to know this was possible, maybe even inevitable, but standing in front of you, he realizes he’s never prepared himself for this. He’s never thought about what it would mean to actually be a father.

Yet here you are, standing in front of him with your mother’s words still hanging over you, and he can see the weight you carry in the way your shoulders are always tense, the way your eyes don’t quite meet his.

“Well, kid,” he says after a beat, plastering on his most confident smile, “looks like you’ve officially joined the Stark family. There’s no going back now.”

Over the next few days, Tony throws himself into fatherhood with all the enthusiasm of someone tackling a new, challenging invention. He’s reading parenting books, taking advice from anyone who’ll give it, and trying desperately to crack the code of how to be a “cool dad.” He lets you explore Stark Tower freely, offers you access to his entire workshop, and even builds you a custom tablet, “Stark-style,” he brags, with enough advanced tech to impress even the most skeptical teenager.

He talks to you about science, testing your knowledge and realizing with a mix of pride and horror that you’re nearly as sharp as he was at seventeen. He tries to make jokes, throwing out sarcastic one-liners he assumes will win you over. Sometimes, he even manages to get a smirk out of you. But that’s as far as it ever goes.

Every attempt he makes is met with your icy wall, a defense mechanism built after years of disappointment and neglect. You listen, nod occasionally, but never laugh or even show interest. The most he ever gets out of you is a dry, deadpan “cool,” which is enough to keep him going but never enough to satisfy him.

Tony tries not to take it personally, but it’s hard. You’re right there, his kid, yet you’re worlds away, keeping him at arm’s length as if he’s just another adult you can’t trust. He catches glimpses of the sarcasm, the intelligence, but it’s wrapped up in layers of resentment and guarded detachment. You’re always cool, always distant, and he knows why, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

One evening, he sits you down with a grin, tossing a shiny, compact device into your hands. It’s sleek, metallic—one of his newer designs.

“Mini reactor prototype. You’d be the first to use it.” He says it with pride, like he’s giving you something no one else in the world could get.

You look at it for a moment, then at him. “Cool,” you say again, but your voice is flat, unimpressed. You set it on the table between you without another glance.

Tony’s grin falters, and he lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

You just shrug, giving him that practiced blank stare he’s come to know well. He’s finally reaching his breaking point. “Y’know, I’m trying here,” he says, exasperated. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, connect. Be… whatever it is you need me to be. But you’re acting like I’m just another stranger.”

You pause, considering him for a moment, and something shifts in your expression—like maybe, for just a second, you see his effort. But then your face goes neutral again, back to that familiar shield.

“Maybe that’s because you are,” you reply, voice quiet, almost too soft for him to hear.

Tony feels the blow, but he hides it with a forced chuckle. “Fair enough,” he says, though there’s a sting in his voice. “I can’t change the past, but… I’m here now. I’m not gonna just… walk away.”

The words linger between you, both of you knowing the weight they carry. You’ve heard promises like this before. You’ve heard them from your mother, from people who were supposed to care, and each one of those promises had turned hollow, leaving you more alone than before. So, when Tony looks at you with genuine sincerity, with a hope that you’ll give him a chance, all you can do is nod, burying any flicker of vulnerability.

As the weeks go on, Tony keeps trying. He brings you into the lab with him, walks you through his latest projects, even lets you experiment with some of the tech yourself. He drags you to burger joints at midnight, tries to coax out stories about school, hobbies, anything. Sometimes you let your guard slip, offering a sarcastic remark, a comment that makes him laugh—but the moment always passes too quickly, and you’re back behind that wall before he can push any further.

He’s persistent, though, and there’s a part of you that almost wants to give in, that wants to believe him. But your trust is a muscle you haven’t used in so long, it feels impossible to start now. So, you keep him at bay, deflecting his kindness, giving him just enough to satisfy his efforts without letting him in.

Tony doesn’t quit, though. He keeps showing up, every day, every night, and for the first time in your life, you don’t feel like someone’s just waiting for the moment they can leave.

Every morning, Tony insists on driving you to school, and it’s nothing short of a spectacle. He shows up outside Stark Tower in one of his many luxury cars, honking loudly, practically begging for attention. It’s become a routine, one you can’t escape no matter how many times you roll your eyes or tell him he doesn’t have to do it. He’s always got some snarky excuse, saying things like, “It’s my job as a dad,” or “I just want to see the kid off,” as if anyone believes he actually cares about high school protocol.

And everyone notices. Whispers trail behind you as you walk the halls, classmates you’ve known for years suddenly gawking at you like you’re a different person. They don’t know you as you anymore; they know you as Tony Stark’s kid. It’s suffocating. You’ve spent your entire life trying to stay unnoticed, to blend into the background. Now, no matter where you go, everyone’s waiting for you to crack a joke like him, to show off some kind of Stark-level genius.

Only one person seems to still see you, really see you—your best friend, Sam. You’ve known him since middle school, back when everything was simpler, when no one knew or cared who your dad was. He’s the only one who doesn’t treat you any differently now, the only person you actually trust enough to talk to about any of this.

One afternoon, you’re sitting outside on the bleachers with Sam, trying to ignore the fact that Tony’s car is already parked by the curb, waiting for you. The other students eye it like some exotic animal they don’t quite understand, but you keep your head down, just hoping the day will end without any more awkward questions or judgmental stares.

Sam nudges you. “So, uh… you still giving the old man the cold shoulder, huh?”

You sigh, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not giving him the cold shoulder. I’m just… keeping my distance.”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, I see you with him every morning. The man looks like he’s about to recite the Gettysburg Address just to get a smile out of you. And you’re over here acting like he doesn’t exist.”

You shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms. “He’s only doing it because he feels obligated, Sam. It’s Tony Stark. He doesn’t actually care about me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You really believe that? You think he’s the kind of guy who’d waste his time on someone he doesn’t care about?”

You don’t answer, but you can feel Sam’s eyes on you, cutting through all your defenses. He’s always been able to read you better than anyone, and right now, that’s the last thing you want.

“He’s trying, Y/N,” Sam continues, his voice softer. “Like, really trying. And I get it. I get that you’ve been burned, but… maybe give him a chance? Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s gonna run off if you tell him what’s going on.”

You look away, jaw clenched as you try to shake off the knot of emotion tightening in your chest. You don’t want to admit that Sam might be right. Letting someone in, giving someone a chance—that’s always been a dangerous game, one you’re not sure you can afford to play again.

That night, you’re lying awake in your room, staring at the ceiling, Sam’s words playing on a loop in your mind. The silence around you feels heavy, pressing down on you, and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you owe Tony more than you’ve been giving him. You’ve seen his effort, the way he tries to connect with you, even when you push him away. He’s there, every day, waiting for you, and no one has ever done that before.

Something shifts in you, a kind of tired resignation, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you get up and head downstairs to his workshop.

Tony’s hunched over a table, tinkering with some gadget, and he barely notices you at first. It’s only when you clear your throat that he looks up, surprise flickering across his face before he masks it with a smile.

“Hey, kid,” he says, setting down his tools. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Yeah, I just… I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and concern on his face. He gestures to a nearby chair. “Go ahead. I’m all ears.”

You sit, staring at your hands as you try to find the right words. For a long time, there’s only silence between you, the air thick with tension. Finally, you take a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I know you’re trying. It’s just… it’s not easy for me.”

Tony watches you intently, not interrupting, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it. You look down, focusing on your hands, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

“When I was a kid, my mom was all I had. I thought… I thought she cared about me, even if she didn’t always show it. But she changed, especially after she started seeing this guy. Travis. He wasn’t… he wasn’t a good person, Tony. He… he made sure I knew I wasn’t wanted.” Your voice breaks slightly, but you push through it, feeling the old wounds tear open. “He told me I was a burden, that I was just in the way. And my mom, she… she just let it happen. She barely even looked at me by the end.”

Tony’s face darkens, his jaw clenched as he listens, but he stays silent, letting you continue.

“I learned not to trust people,” you say, voice wavering. “Every time I thought someone would stick around, they didn’t. So I stopped… I stopped letting people in. I told myself it was easier that way.”

You look up at him, and for the first time, there’s no mask, no shield—just raw vulnerability, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in years.

“And then I showed up here,” you say, your voice barely a whisper now. “And you… you keep trying. You keep showing up, every day, like you actually care. And it’s… it’s confusing, okay? Because part of me wants to believe it, but the other part…” You trail off, wiping away a tear that slips down your cheek.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. He reaches over, placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you, letting you know he’s there. “Y/N,” he says softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t change what you went through. I can’t go back and fix it, as much as I wish I could. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that you’ve never seen before—a fierce, unwavering resolve that feels almost foreign. You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words sink in, feeling the tiniest flicker of hope spark to life.

“It’s not easy for me,” you murmur. “It’s… it’s hard for me to trust people. And I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. But… I want to try. I want to believe you. I just… I need you to be patient with me. I need you to not give up on me.”

Tony nods, his hand still resting on your shoulder, steady and reassuring. “Hey,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I’m not giving up on you, kid. Not now, not ever. You’re my son, and I’m here for the long haul. However long it takes, okay?”

The words settle around you, a warmth you haven’t felt in years. You don’t have to say anything; he seems to understand, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he lets go. And in that moment, something in you softens, just a little, like maybe you can let him in.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe him, to believe that maybe he really won’t walk away. And even though the walls around your heart don’t come down all at once, you feel them start to crack, piece by piece, letting a little light seep in.

After that night, things start to change. It’s slow, gradual, like thawing ice, but there’s a noticeable shift between you and Tony. You’re still guarded, still wary of letting him all the way in, but he doesn’t push. He just keeps showing up, every day, every night, just like he promised. And slowly, piece by piece, you let him in.

The first time you ask to work on something together, Tony practically beams. You’re sitting at the kitchen counter with your physics homework in front of you—normally a breeze, something you’d get done in a few minutes. But today, you’ve left a few problems untouched, hoping he’ll notice.

Sure enough, Tony glances over your shoulder and raises an eyebrow. “Need a hand with that?” he asks, and there’s a careful lightness to his voice, like he’s trying to keep things casual, so he doesn’t scare you off.

You shrug, trying to act indifferent. “Sure, if you’ve got time,” you say, even though both of you know you could solve this on your own without breaking a sweat. But Tony doesn’t call you out on it. He just grabs a chair, pulls it over, and sits down next to you, leaning in to look at your work.

For the next hour, the two of you go over formulas and theories, his explanations coming with a few sarcastic quips and exaggerated hand gestures. Every so often, he goes off on a tangent, telling you stories about his own time in high school or sharing a strange fact he thinks will help you remember a concept. You listen, half-smiling at his antics, and eventually even throw in a few of your own sarcastic comments. You can tell he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it, but there’s a spark in his eyes that tells you he’s thrilled to be here, helping you, no matter how small the reason.

As the days go by, you find yourself spending more and more time in Tony’s workshop. It becomes your safe space, the place where you don’t feel like you have to hide or put up walls. Tony lets you explore, handing you tools and explaining how they work, guiding you through his more complicated inventions. It’s like learning a new language, one he’s eager to teach you, and he’s a surprisingly patient teacher.

One afternoon, he’s working on a new suit upgrade, and you’re watching, silently impressed by how smoothly he moves, how every action is precise and practiced. You’re deep in thought when he glances over at you, smirking.

“Thinking of joining the family business?” he jokes, tossing you a wrench. “If you’re interested, I could always use an extra pair of hands.”

You catch the wrench, feeling a rare, genuine smile tug at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe I will,” you say, feeling a rush of warmth that’s unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

He shows you how to tighten a piece of armor plating, explaining each step with a casual ease that you find yourself getting lost in. There’s something oddly comforting about the way he talks, like he’s sharing a secret only the two of you understand. And as you work, side by side, you realize that you actually look forward to these moments, the quiet companionship that comes from working together on something you both enjoy.

One evening, you catch yourself staring at your chemistry textbook, pages open to a particularly dull section on thermodynamics. Normally, you’d power through it on your own, but tonight, you feel the familiar tug of loneliness creeping in, and before you know it, you’re on your feet, heading down to Tony’s lab.

When you reach the doorway, he looks up, surprised, then quickly wipes the expression off his face and pretends to be engrossed in his latest project. “What’s up?” he asks, as casually as he can manage.

You hold up the textbook, pretending to be annoyed. “This stuff is terrible. Thought maybe you could explain it better than my teacher does.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m honored to know you think so highly of my teaching skills.” He gestures for you to sit down, and as you do, he starts flipping through the pages of your book. “Thermodynamics, huh? You sure you’re not just here for the riveting conversation?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But you both know the truth, and there’s an unspoken understanding between you as he dives into the material. He doesn’t just lecture; he makes it a story, breaking down each concept with analogies, acting out scenarios, and throwing in enough jokes to keep you both entertained. You throw in questions just to keep him talking, just so you don’t have to go back to your empty room just yet.

And somewhere along the way, you realize you’re not just learning about science. You’re learning about him—about his quirks, his sense of humor, the way he lights up when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about. He’s not just Tony Stark, billionaire genius, Iron Man. He’s… Tony, your dad, someone who, against all odds, actually seems to care about you.

Over time, you both fall into a rhythm. Tony starts waiting for you in the mornings, holding out a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, claiming he needs company on his drive to work. You never say it, but you look forward to those mornings, the way he fills the car with stories about his latest projects or about old college pranks he pulled that make you laugh in spite of yourself.

One day, you’re both hunched over a set of schematics in his lab, tossing ideas back and forth as you brainstorm a new design for a stabilizer that could potentially improve flight control in his suits. You’re getting so into it that you forget to be guarded, throwing out suggestions, bouncing thoughts off each other in rapid-fire succession.

At one point, Tony stops, leaning back in his chair to look at you with a smirk. “You know,” he says, a touch of pride in his voice, “you’re pretty damn good at this. Got that Stark brain for sure.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you don’t brush it off. “Maybe,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “But I guess it helps when you have a good teacher.”

Tony chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of emotion in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “Yeah, well… you’re not a bad student either.”

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at each other, an understanding passing between you that doesn’t need words. You know he’s trying, and somehow, that knowledge makes the walls around your heart crumble just a little bit more.

A few days later, you’re working on homework in the living room when Tony walks in, holding a set of blueprints he’s obviously excited about. But when he sees you bent over your books, he pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, need some help?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look up, raising an eyebrow back at him. “With calculus? Pretty sure I’ve got this covered.”

He shrugs, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I was quite the calculus prodigy back in the day.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smirk, half-teasing. “Care to prove it?”

Tony grins, and before you know it, he’s pulled up a chair, leaning over your work with the same intensity he brings to his inventions. You pretend to need help with a few problems, and he’s more than happy to guide you through them, throwing in jokes and sarcastic comments the whole way. Every so often, he nudges your shoulder, grinning like he’s just scored a victory when he catches you smiling.

Eventually, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I think we’ve both learned a lot today,” he says, stretching dramatically.

“Yeah,” you reply, smirking. “Like the fact that you’re worse at calculus than I am.”

Tony gapes, clutching his chest in mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own son. This is a new low.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, and for the first time, it feels easy. Comfortable. Like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to keep fighting him off.

“Hey,” Tony says, his tone shifting to something softer. “Thanks for letting me in. I know it wasn’t easy.”

You meet his gaze, feeling that familiar vulnerability creeping in, but this time, you don’t shy away. “Thanks for not giving up,” you reply quietly. “I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with.”

Tony chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Nah, you’re a piece of cake. Besides, I’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”

You smile, a real one this time, feeling a warmth settle in your chest. For the first time, you allow yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be okay.

It’s supposed to be a routine mission. Just another intel-gathering run, in and out, with minimal risk. Tony had waved it off as no big deal before he left, throwing you a smirk and saying, “Just another day in the office.” But that was hours ago. And now, as you sit in the dim glow of the living room, watching the news report blaring on the screen, dread twists deep in your gut.

You watch the shaky footage of Iron Man fighting, and this time, it’s different. He’s outnumbered, missiles tearing through the air, beams of energy slicing through the smoke and chaos. The news anchor’s voice breaks as they report the intensity of the fight, how Iron Man was last seen plunging out of the sky after a heavy hit. For a terrifying moment, you catch a glimpse of him falling, his suit battered, smoking, before the feed cuts out entirely.

Your heart stops, and a painful tightness fills your chest. The hours that follow are a blur of pacing, every second dragging longer than the last. You’re used to him going out on missions, used to the danger that comes with being Tony Stark’s son. But this… this is different. This isn’t the usual playful bravado, the usual cocky promises that he’ll be home for dinner. This is life or death, and for the first time, you’re faced with the horrifying thought that he might not make it back.

After what feels like an eternity, the front door finally opens. You spin around, heart pounding, and there he is, looking worse for wear but alive. He’s moving a bit stiffly, his armor scratched and dented, his face smudged with dirt and a few new cuts. But he’s here.

Before he can say a word, you rush toward him, the flood of relief hitting you so hard that you barely register the fact that you’re moving, throwing yourself into his arms. Your grip is tight, like if you let go, he’ll disappear. You don’t even realize you’re trembling until you feel his arms close around you, holding you just as tightly.

“Hey, hey,” Tony says, his voice soft, touched with surprise but warm. “I’m okay, kid. I’m here.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, and he’s looking at you with an expression so full of gentle understanding that it makes you feel like a kid again, vulnerable and desperate. Without thinking, the word slips out, raw and unguarded.

“Dad…” you whisper, voice breaking slightly, “don’t ever… don’t ever do that again. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”

Tony’s face softens, his own eyes welling up. He’s silent for a moment, as if he’s savoring the word, the weight of it finally hitting home. His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, his grip firm but gentle, grounding you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your cheeks now, and Tony pulls you in again, holding you tightly, his hand running gently over your back. It’s the first time you’ve let yourself fully embrace him, the first time you’ve allowed yourself to lean into his strength, to accept the warmth he’s been trying so hard to offer. And as you stand there, held in his arms, a sense of peace settles over you, soft and comforting, melting the last of your walls away.

After a long moment, he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, a tear slipping down his own cheek as he smiles, eyes bright. “You called me ‘Dad,’” he says softly, his voice full of wonder, as if he’s just received the greatest gift in the world.

You give a small, watery smile, wiping at your eyes. “Yeah, well… don’t get used to it,” you mumble, but there’s no heat behind the words, only affection, only gratitude.

He chuckles, pulling you back into a hug, and you feel his hand rest on the back of your head, his grip firm and reassuring. “I’m already used to it,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not letting you go, kid. Not ever.”

In that moment, you realize that this is what home feels like—right here, safe in his arms, with nothing left to fear.

I'll never get tired of familyman!Tony I swear.

[dirty-bosmer]

Sujamma Sundas

Topic: This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

Tagged by: @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @lillxart

tagging: @elavoria @thequeenofthewinter @sylvienerevarine @sheirukitriesfandom @unironicallycringe @ladytanithia @pocket-vvardvark @rustyram035 and anyone who sees this :)

I will share a bit about my dumpster fire pairing, Lucien Lachance and my HoK— his ex-Silencer Nimileth. They are enemies but underneath that they are lovers then underneath that they are enemies again.

They met in the way many Dark Brotherhood assassins seem to meet Lucien, which is to say unpleasantly and with much annoyance. She had just killed Countess Alessia Caro in what she would claim was a bout of justified vengeance and righteous fury and NOT at all uncontrollable blood lust and/or an act of butchery. Never :) Lucien, after learning the grisly details, was like "ooh 😍" But after his many horrific attempts to woo her were met with disinterest that bordered on disgust and inevitably disdain, he was like "ugh, well now I must gain her favor because the Black Hand ordered a purification, and I have no one else to appoint to Silencer. Also my ego is bruised. Woe is me!" Then they smashed and it was of course very sexy and nasty, and afterwards, it over for them. Fate sealed.

They have a very messy, very toxic relationship given the power-imbalance, Lucien's sadism, and Nim's inclination to like things that are bad for her. Their favorite way to cuddle is in a pool of each other's blood, entangled in such a way that it could be easily mistaken for strangulation or erotic asphyxiation depending on the angle <3

I am always so embarrassed when I talk about them. Like omg just kill and eat each other already!!!

Them in a hell of their own making or something

[claudemblems]

Cat's Out of the Bag | Moriarty the Patriot

Summary: It looks like you've been rudely interrupted mid kiss with your (secret) lover. Suffice to say the situation is quite awkward...

Content: SFW. Sherlock being Sherlock. Jokes about some characters reading too much into the situation but there is no mature content going on. Please don't tag this as anything but SFW!

Characters: Sherlock, Louis, John

Notes: Let me kiss them on the foreheads please 🥺

Sherlock Holmes

Well, this is certainly surprising. Mycroft didn't suspect that his routine "wellness check" (code for his surprise paintball gun fights) would end up with him walking on his brother sharing kisses with a lady

(He was sure he told him to beware of women once...)

And really, in the living room of the flat for anyone to walk in on! It was as if Sherlock would show no shame in being caught (true)

But...Mycroft didn't remember any woman catching his little brother's eye. It seems that this was a well-kept secret indeed

"Sherly, if you are going to show your affections to a woman, there are appropriate places to do so. Out in the middle of the sitting room with the door unlocked is not one of them."

"What do you want?" Sherlock hissed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Why do you always have to show up at the most inopportune times?!"

"Because I care for you, Sherly," Mycroft answered with a smile. Then his gaze drifted over to you, your cheeks growing pink. "My apologies for not properly introducing myself. You may call me Mycroft. I am Sherly’s elder brother."

"No one asked, now get out," Sherlock huffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "You've spoiled the mood."

"Why didn't you inform me that you had a lover? You'll be needing all the advice I can spare if this relationship is to be maintained. Besides, do you even know basic biology?" Mycroft sighed, shaking his head. "You have a terrible habit of only absorbing information that interests you. It's to be assumed that you have no inclination of the topic of se–"

"All right, that's enough!" Sherlock exclaimed, leaping out of his seat and pushing his brother towards the door. "Please, my dear, darling older brother, do not come back without an invitation. Bye!"

And before Mycroft could formulate a witty response, the door was promptly shut in his face, locked with a key for good measure.

"...Sherlock?"

"Don't mind him. He's always this irritating." Sherlock huffed, returning to his spot beside you on the sofa. "I'm sorry if his visit resulted in embarrassment for you. Now you can imagine what I have to go through on a regular basis."

"Pesky older brothers," you laughed. "I suppose it's fortunate I don't have one of my own."

"Truly. If you did, I have a feeling that they'd be grilling me on my reasons for courting you. I don't need any more sibling drama than I have now."

"Well, at least he's gone now, right?"

"And hopefully he won't be back for a long while."

"I'm guessing his display just now is the reason you didn't tell him that we're together?"

"Precisely. Now, I'm afraid we'll have to be careful about him barging in again. He can be quite stubborn in that regard."

"It'll be alright," you said, placing your hand atop Sherlock's. "At least now we know what to expect."

"Well, next time he can 'expect' the nearest object being tossed at his head."

Even Sherlock gets so embarrassed you thought, smiling when you noticed the red tips of his ears. 

“You’re blushing,” you said, unable to resist the urge to tease him. It wasn’t often Sherlock got so flustered, after all.

“I am not.”

“You do realize that you scratch the back of your neck when you’re lying, right?”

Sherlock tsked, playfully rolling his eyes before pulling you into his arms. “You’ve picked up on too many of my tactics. You’ll pay for this!” Your laughter echoed throughout the flat as Sherlock tickled you mercilessly until you confessed to your ‘crime’.

However, a few kisses of recompense bribed your way out of a guilty sentence. Maybe that favoritism made Sherlock guilty, too, but he wasn’t opposed to the two of you being partners in crime. 

Louis Moriarty

Well, well, well. Who knew sweet and innocent Louis would be caught with lipstick stains on his face?

Moran knew he shouldn't be so delighted at the sight in front of him, but it was almost like...he was seeing a little brother become a man

Besides, Moran didn't count on any of the brothers having a secret relationship. To say this was a surprise was an understatement. Perhaps the others would like to know…

"Sorry, Louis. Was I interrupting something?" Sebastian asked, unable to hide his toothy grin.

"Just what on earth are you doing entering the room without knocking?!!" Louis' glasses weren't enough to hide the blush creeping on his face which grew more and more noticeable by the minute.

"Didn't think you'd be so busy," Moran replied, wriggling an eyebrow. "The evidence of the crime is all over you."

"There was nothing indecent going on here!" Louis his face in his hands, internally plotting a million ways to get rid of Moran without arousing suspicion.

"You shouldn't have to say so if that were the case."

"Moran!!!"

"Okay you two, calm down, all right?" you sighed, trying to salvage the last bit of decency between you and Louis. "If Moran came in here, he probably needs something from us. What can we help you with?”

"Well, I was just dropping by to say that the last mission we discussed is still on. William's already moving forward with the plan. However, if you also need me to get the manor empty for a while, let me know. I can pull a few strings."

"Whenever you speak with William again,” you said through gritted teeth, “can you ask him to teach me how to get away with murder?"

"Oh, that's quite a specific request. Care to elaborate?"

"I'll elaborate when I put you six feet below the ground, Sebastian."

Moran put his hands up in the air in surrender, though the grin never left his face. "I was just joking around. Besides, if Louis gets this embarrassed just kissing you, there's no way he'd be able to–"

Moran jumped as a knife whizzed past him and embedded itself into the wall.

"If you get so caught off guard just by running your mouth, there's no way you'd be prepared for a surprise attack by an enemy."

"Aaand would you look at that, it's half past tea time! Better go help the others with the details of the plan."

You didn't think you'd ever seen Moran run out of a room so quickly.

"Louis, please don't threaten him. I know he's an idiot sometimes but..."

"Nevermind him. Shall we continue where we left off?"

You blinked, taken aback by Louis' sudden boldness. "O-Oh. You...want another kiss?"

Louis' lips turned upwards in a wicked grin. "Put them where your lipstick will be visible. I want Moran to remember how he barely escaped this situation with his life."

John Watson

Oh, uh…huh. Sherlock didn’t think twice about bursting into his dear friend’s room to excitedly inform him of the success of his new experiment and ended up…well…seeing John mid kiss with a woman he’d never met before

He couldn’t help but stare slack-jawed, completely oblivious to the mortified expressions of his companion and “friend”

But Sherlock had seen far stranger things, so he was able to quickly regain his composure and snap back to his usual self

“John, you should have told me you were going to have a lady friend over! I would have made sure to stay out of the flat for a while.”

“N-No,” John stammered, his tanned face flushing, “I wouldn’t make you leave so that…I…”

“It’s quite all right to want some privacy! Kissing someone is a very intimate affair after all, and I’m not about to ruin my dear Watson’s chances at romance!”

“I–”

“So, whaddya think of John?” Sherlock asked you with a wink. “He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?”

“Sherlock! I thought you just said you were going to give us some privacy…”

“Oh, I agree,” you replied, leaving John and Sherlock wide-eyed at your honest confession. “To be honest, I didn’t expect John to be so…good at his craft.” You winked back at Sherlock, the two of you exchanging smiles. It seems you were already well on your way to gaining the detective’s approval.

“[Name]!” John cried, burying his face in your shoulder. “Don’t start teasing me, too.”

“But you’re so cute when your face turns all red~” you laughed, lifting up his chin with a finger. “Besides, I can tell you like the fact that I take the lead in this relationship.”

Poor John was going to end up as red as a tomato if you and Sherlock kept on like this.

“Well, I’ll be going now. I’ll return in a couple of hours–got some detective work to do and all. Enjoy your kissing. Goodbye!”

As soon as the door clicked shut, John breathed out a ragged sigh. “I was not expecting all this attention today.”

“Shy are we?”

“Please, I don’t know how much more my poor heart can take.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around John’s neck. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

John pouted his lips, pulling you in closer by your waist. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying that.”

“Then say it.”

John’s eyes flickered down to your lips and back to your eyes, silently asking for your permission. You answered his question with a nod and smile, and soon enough, his lips were back on yours, bringing you to a state of unending bliss, whispering sweet nothings reserved just for you.

“Yes,” he said against your lips, unable to hide his smile, “you are quite adorable, darling.”