#there is something unique in the way he uses his eyes to express emotion

[mellasso]

jason sudeikis.

[imastoryteller]

Writing Angry Scenes: Tips to Avoid Melodrama and Make It Real

Anger can be one of the most intense, relatable emotions to read—and one of the trickiest to write. When handled well, an angry scene can pull readers deep into the emotional world of a character, building tension and driving the story forward. But when handled poorly, anger can easily slip into melodrama, making the character’s feelings seem overblown, forced, or even cringe-worthy.

So how can you avoid these pitfalls and write anger that feels real and compelling? Here are some tips to make angry scenes powerful without overdoing it.

1. Understand What Fuels Your Character’s Anger

To write anger authentically, you need to understand its roots. People get angry for complex reasons—fear, frustration, betrayal, grief, and even love. Ask yourself what’s truly driving your character’s anger. Are they afraid of losing control? Do they feel abandoned or misunderstood? Are they hurt by someone they trusted? Anger rarely exists in isolation, so dig into the deeper emotions fueling it.

When you understand the core reasons behind a character’s anger, you can weave those nuances into the scene, making the anger more relatable and layered. Readers will feel the depth of the character's rage, not just the surface heat of it.

2. Show, Don’t Tell—But Don’t Overdo It

“Show, don’t tell” is classic writing advice, but it’s especially crucial in angry scenes. Don’t rely on generic phrases like “She was furious” or “He clenched his fists in anger.” Instead, look for unique ways to convey how this specific character experiences anger. Maybe their voice drops to a deadly calm, or their eyes narrow in a way that makes everyone around them uncomfortable.

That said, showing too much can backfire, especially with exaggerated descriptions. Over-the-top body language, excessive shouting, or too many “flaring nostrils” can tip the scene into melodrama. Use body language and physical cues sparingly and mix them with subtler reactions for a more realistic portrayal.

3. Use Dialogue to Reveal Hidden Layers

People rarely say exactly what they feel, especially when they’re angry. Angry dialogue isn’t just about yelling or throwing out insults; it’s an opportunity to show the character’s deeper thoughts and vulnerabilities.

Consider using controlled, icy responses or unexpected silences. Maybe your character says something hurtful in a low voice rather than screaming. They might express sarcasm, avoidance, or even laugh at the wrong moment. Anger often carries hidden layers, and using these nuances can help your character’s dialogue feel genuine, even haunting, without falling into dramatic clichés.

4. Control the Pacing of the Scene

The pacing of an angry scene can be the difference between a powerful moment and a melodramatic one. In real life, anger doesn’t always erupt instantly; it can simmer, spike, or deflate depending on the situation and the character’s personality. Experiment with different pacing techniques to create tension.

You might build the anger slowly, with small signs that something’s brewing. Or maybe the character explodes suddenly, only to calm down just as quickly, leaving a chill in the air. Controlling the pace helps you control the reader’s emotional engagement, drawing them in without overwhelming them.

5. Avoid Clichéd Expressions and Overused Reactions

When writing anger, avoid falling back on clichés like “seeing red,” “boiling with rage,” or “blood boiling.” These phrases have been overused to the point that they lose their impact. Instead, get creative and think about how your character’s anger might feel specifically to them.

Maybe their skin feels prickly, or their jaw aches from clenching it. Think about details that are unique to the character and to the moment. By focusing on small, unique sensory details, you’ll help readers feel the anger rather than just reading about it.

6. Let the Setting Reflect the Emotion

The setting can be an effective tool to amplify a character’s anger without overstating it. Small details in the environment—such as the hum of a refrigerator, the slow ticking of a clock, or the distant sounds of laughter—can create a sense of contrast or isolation that heightens the character’s rage.

For example, imagine a character seething in a peaceful park or a quiet library. The calm of the surroundings can make their anger feel more potent. Or maybe they’re in a crowded, noisy room where they feel unseen and unheard, which fuels their frustration further. This use of setting can add depth to the scene without the need for dramatic gestures.

7. Let Consequences Speak for Themselves

An effective way to avoid melodrama is to let the consequences of the anger show its intensity. Characters don’t always have to yell or physically react; sometimes, a single choice can convey more than any outburst.

Perhaps your character cuts off a close friend or says something they can’t take back. Maybe they throw away a meaningful object or walk out in silence. By focusing on the consequences of their anger, you can reveal the impact without over-explaining it.

8. Let the Emotion Simmer After the Scene Ends

Anger is rarely resolved in a single moment, and its effects often linger. When writing an angry scene, think about how it will affect your character moving forward. Are they holding onto grudges? Do they feel guilty or exhausted afterward? Does their anger transform into something else, like sadness or regret?

Allowing the anger to simmer in your character’s mind even after the scene ends creates a more authentic and layered portrayal. It shows that anger is complex and doesn’t just disappear the moment the scene is over, adding emotional weight to both the character and the story.

[auggieblogs]

freckle kisses ֶָ֢ | MV1

Max Verstappen x fem! reader

Author's note: Hello, lovelies!!! I hope everyone is doing good. This fic has been in my drafts for a while now and I finally had the motivation to edit it today. The Max brainrot is very real, I cannot stop thinking about his little freckle. He is so beautiful🥹. Anyways, I hope you all like this piece. Happy reading<3

ALSO fun fact, I have a freckle that's right below my lower lip jshshdjdhs I don't know I think it's a sign!!! (im delusional)

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

Max was used to the routine. Before the haze of sleep fully left him every morning, he would feel the soft, warm press of her lips against the tiny freckle on his upper lip. It was her unique ritual, a habit she had never skipped, and he had come to adore.

As the sun streamed through the blinds of their bedroom, she stirred beside him, her eyes fluttering open. Without missing a beat, she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his freckle. Max smiled, his heart swelling with love.

"Morning, love," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Morning, Maxie," she replied, her voice light and cheerful.

Every day followed this pattern. Whether Max was leaving for a race, taking a break between practice sessions, or they were about to make love, her lips always found that freckle. It was her little act of love, and Max never questioned it. He cherished it

One lazy Sunday afternoon, they were lounging in their living room, a movie playing in the background. She lay on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. Max absentmindedly played with her hair, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, snuggling closer.

Max felt her shift slightly, and there it was again. Her lips met his freckle in a gentle kiss before trailing a line of kisses up to his lips. "I love you," she mumbled softly against his skin.

"I love you too," Max replied, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

He paused momentarily, a curious look crossing his face, "Why do you always kiss my freckle?"

She looked up at him with a shy smile, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "It's silly," she said.

Max tilted her chin up gently, his eyes searching hers. "It’s not stupid if it’s something you do," he said softly. "Tell me, please."

She took a deep breath before explaining, "Well, my mom used to tell me that freckles or moles are spots where lovers used to kiss you in past lives. She said they’re like beauty marks, little reminders of love."

Max's expression softened, a tender smile spreading across his face. "That's beautiful," he said, his voice filled with genuine emotion.

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I told you it was silly."

"It's not silly," Max replied, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gently, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. And I love you for it."

Her heart swelled with love as she looked at him, feeling incredibly lucky to have someone like Max in her life. "I love you too," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the movie long forgotten.

Max chuckled softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "So, every time you kiss that freckle, it’s like you’re saying hello to my past lovers?" he teased.

She laughed, playfully swatting his chest. "Or maybe it’s just my way of marking my territory," she quipped back.

Max laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Well, consider it marked," he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

[ak319]

Yan Socialite Brother x reader x Yan?Hubby

YOUR LITTLE EZZY'S BACK! So I couldn't help but write more about him. I will also write a version with the reader's wife. Enjoy reading ♡ Ezra Headcanon

In the dark hours, the Alvarez estate was shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Shadows stretched across the grand, dimly lit room, adding to the air of peculiar mystery that seemed to cloak the entire estate. Ezra sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames that flickered with a restless energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The news you had shared with him still echoed in his mind, fanning the fire of his emotions, making it burn hotter, fiercer.

"Amir?.." his eyes were fixed on your back as you scrummaged through the bookshelf. You replied back gently. "Yes, Amir. The boy who works on one of the farms."

So a slave huh?

And then you explained everything to Ezra, from how you saw Amir, appreciated his gentle nature, and were now thinking of bringing him here as your groom. Ezra’s rage simmered beneath the surface, though his fake smile and curious eyes never left your face. But your tone didn’t match the word "thinking", it clearly said, "I am bringing him as my groom." He was happy… happy for you. But on the other hand, he wasn’t happy for himself.

This was the day he had dreaded. For his own peace of mind, he sent one of his attendants, Rowan, to inquire about this so-called Amir. The report? Amir was a poor servant with three siblings and parents who also worked on the farm. Amir was the oldest. Hm. Poor, innocent, loyal, and not too bad-looking, though in Ezra's eyes, everyone pales in comparison to Alvarez's. Nobody can ever be good enough for you. He just didn't want his sister to marry a dirt-face. After all, their family has a certain dignity in society. There was something he relished in this situation, Amir’s meekness, bred by his lower status, was something Ezra could use and if his sister were to marry, it should be to someone who knows their place.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Amir couldn’t shake the memory of the way you approached him that day.

“M-my lady-”

“It’s okay, relax. Just came to greet you and see how the work is going.” His hand continued to glide through the horse’s mane, though his gaze, filled with shyness and respect, lingered on you. You loved that. “What’s your name, boy?”

“A-Amir…ma’am.” You asked him more questions, and with each one, his initial fear of you began to fade. Eventually, he even dared to ask some of his own. He didn’t realize that he had backed away to the fence, cornered by your every step forward.

“I don’t think a…” You gently removed a leaf from his silky hair. “A pretty thing like you belongs on a farm.” His quick breaths brushed your face before he turned away. Did you just compliment him?! How could you not? He was so unique with that snowy hair and those pale green eyes. “U-um, but I have to-w-work to earn-for-”

“What if I say, not anymore?”

On that very day, you boldly asked his parents for his hand in marriage, right there on the farm, while Amir stood paralyzed in disbelief. His parents, naturally, agreed without a moment's pause, and his heart raced as he caught your final glance over your shoulder before you rode off with your men. How could a humble servant like him ever be worthy of becoming your husband? The idea felt impossible, undeserved. But as the reality settled in, he came to see it not as a blessing but as a test---a daunting trial between love, loyalty, hate… and obsession.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

'Time to play some games' Ezra smirked in the mirror as he gave himself a once-over. "Nobody can outshine you Ezra or take your place, nobody."

The grand staircase of the mansion, lavishly adorned for his sister's wedding, became the stage for Ezra's entrance. As he descended, everyone’s eyes were drawn to him. His gaze landed on you seated beside Amir on the sofa, and his smirk widened at the sight of Amir’s expression. Those doe eyes that have seduced his sister were now filled with embarrassment, as they should be.

Amir was at a loss. His brother-in-law, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to his own--albeit more glamorous and in a different color--had just exposed Ezra's facade. All the sweet words and actions before the wedding had been an act. Ezra settled onto the cushion next to you, casually nibbling on some food from the table, savoring the revelation of his little game.

"Ezra, you should have rested," you said, your tone carrying a hint of concern. Amir was taken aback, noticing your relaxed demeanour. It seemed you hadn’t caught onto Ezra’s stunt. It wasn’t your fault, after all. Maybe you are too tired to notice or don't want to scold your brother, whom you cherish deeply, especially in front of guests—many of whom were now eyeing Ezra with a mix of admiration and curiosity. His display was a calculated reminder that he would always eclipse Amir. Ezra had even missed the official ceremony, claiming illness as his excuse and retreating to his room.

"Nonsense!. How could I have missed my own sister's wedding? And did you forget that I managed all these preparations?. I would never miss it."

'Oh, but you missed the vow ceremony, how convenient and now he's here to remind everyone how he managed all of this and such a good brother-in-law he is by being sweet to me and my family.'

"Do I look good, sister?"

"Of course you do. When have you ever looked bad?" You reached out to pat his head affectionately before pulling a small pouch from your pocket. "This is for you Ezra, a token of appreciation for your efforts, as tradition dictates."

Ezra’s eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted the pouch of gold. "It was nothing. Thank you so much. I just did my duty."

He got up soon to cater to guests including Amir's family probably to show off how humble he is.

The only thing keeping Amir sane and easing his worries was you. Your hand held his gently, and he felt comforted by the ring you put on his finger. He placed his other hand on yours, needing the reassurance that you were there for him.

‘As long as you’re here,’ he kept praying silently.

However, as days passed since the marriage, Ezra's facade toward his brother-in-law began to crumble in your absence. Amir couldn’t understand why Ezra, who had been nothing but nice to him, now seemed to act cold and distant.

The taunts, the disgusted glances, and the deliberate ignoring of Amir had become a painful routine. What troubled him the most was Ezra’s ability to put on a friendly front when you were around. He wondered how a person could even do that? Can he be this deceitful too? His parents always taught him to be kind and true to people. That is why he bared himself to you, he opened his heart to you and gave himself completely. By now he had come to terms with it that Ezra won't ever see him as part of the family much less as an equal. But he remained focused on making sure you were happy with him, that he never made you upset with him because that is what Ezra wants but with Amir's modest and docile nature, it was nearly impossible,

"You know, Amir, since my sister is away on a business trip, you might as well stay with your parents for a while." Amir looked up from his untouched breakfast, confusion and concern etched on his face.

"U-um... why?"

"Why?" Ezra's lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "Well, your duty is to her, and since she’s not here, you might as well go. It’s not like you’re doing anything important around here."

"But—"

"I’ll have the carriage prepared." And just like that he got up and left, Rowan tailing behind him. And so, Amir found himself spending days with his family. His spirits lifted somewhat in their comforting presence, but his thoughts were always clouded by how much he longed to be in your arms. However...

"You don’t just get up and leave like this. Did you even realize how badly this reflects on me? My spouse just vanished after a few days of marriage. I expected you to be waiting for me at the door, but instead, you were here." Your words felt like sharp needles piercing his heart, making him clutch the carriage’s cushion tighter. His mind was filled with images of Ezra welcoming you back, whispering deceitful tales of how he had left.

'He was bored.'

'He doesn’t like it here. I think he doesn't even want to make an effort to adjust.'

'He didn’t even bother to greet you. What kind of husband is he, sister?'

"(Y/N), I d-didn’t mean to leave. It’s just--" What could he say to avoid further anger? Should he blame Ezra? The thought of making excuses or casting blame only added to his distress.

"I don’t care. Next time, don’t leave like that. And if you feel the need to, ask me first. Got it? Also, you can just call your family to visit there. That’s your home now, you don’t have to keep coming back here." He nodded, biting his lip. 'As if your brother would ever let my family feel welcome there. I would never subject them to that mansion of thorns, to be insulted. That’s something I won’t tolerate.'

"Forgive me?" he asked softly, leaning closer to you. "Please, I missed you with every breath." A tired sigh and a gentle caress on his face were all he received, but even that was more than enough for him.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time seemed to pass slowly for Amir, each day filled with torment and venomous words from Ezra. He hid his tears, letting them out in some corner of the mansion , so that when you returned, he could greet you with a smile. He didn’t know what to do. He didn't want to stress you by complaining about your brother or involving you in this petty game. He felt like he was going mad as he dwelled on his thoughts. The books offered some solace, but he wished his life were more like a fairytale.

“Well, I thought you should take care of the household budget now, but I think it’s too soon for you to handle this. There are a number of reasons for my distrust, which... I would prefer not to share.”

“It’s alright... I just joined the family, so I think it’s inappropriate for me to take on that responsibility. And brother Ezra is handling it well anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding.” You gently played with his hair as his head rested on your lap. “I love how understanding you are.” He melted under your compliment, the magical touch adding to his contentment.

“Anything for you, wife. You know better than me. Whatever decision you make, I’ll always accept it.” He kissed your finger, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of the ring you wore. The ring his family had bought with whatever they could afford, and yet you wore it. You were the only one who hadn’t looked down on him because of his status. You even cared for his family, sending them provisions and gifts.

Actually, there was another person who hadn't looked down on Amir--your mother, Ms. Grace. She was a woman who preferred solitude, keeping herself busy with her hobbies after her husband's death. Whenever Amir felt alone, he made sure to check on her, offering company and conversation.

“You’re a really good boy. My daughter found a gem.” Amir smiled, but his eyes told a different story. They were seated in Grace’s study, having tea. “Something troubles you, and I know what it is. It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” Damn it, is it that obvious?

“N-no, no, he’s nice. I’m just--”

“Oh, save it. He’s my son, I can smell his shenanigans from miles away. And that daughter of mine—utterly stupid!. She’s the reason he’s like this. Either she’s too aloof or just chooses to ignore it.”

“No, no! She has a lot on her plate. I just don’t want to burden her with such petty problems. She brought me here so that she could find peace, not for me to disrupt it.” Grace’s heart swelled with pity and love at his words. “You are my son too, okay? And I’m just trying to help you understand that you’re the only one who can help yourself.”

“W-what does that mean?”

"It means you have to be strong. You’re not some piece of garbage my daughter picked up. She brought you here, gave you a title, and bestowed you with respect--so honor it, and don’t let anyone take it away just because they think you don’t deserve it. My in-laws were a piece of work too. May their souls rest in peace, but I went through some tough times with them. What kept me firm was my husband. Do you get my point?"

Her in-laws--oh, what a tragedy that befell them on that ferry. The whole town was shaken. Perhaps it was their karma.

“Yes.”

"You love her, right?" His head snapped up to meet her eyes. Was that even a question?

"More than anything! Always."

"Then don’t beat yourself up like this. Just do your part and leave the rest to God. Everything will be alright one day." Amir nodded and took a sip of his remaining tea, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful. She was right. Being depressed and crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Worse, you might even leave him because of his sulky behavior. His fingers tightened around the saucer.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Sir Ezra has called for you," Rowan informed him as he was putting on his shoes. The two of you were getting ready for dinner. "Me?"

"Yes, you, sir. In his room."

"I'll be there." He glanced at you as you were fastening your coat. "Yeah, go ahead, I'll be waiting downstairs." He nodded and left, but not before helping you with your sleeve buttons and giving you a quick peck.

"You called for me?" His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room, his eyes finding Ezra nestled in his giant bed.

"Oh yes, you two are going out, right? Could you tell (Y/N) to bring back those pastries that I love?" Something felt off.

Amir swallowed the uneasiness and glanced between Ezra and Rowan. "Sure. Anything else?"

"No. That would be all, thank you."

As always, you had chosen a high-end restaurant, and your presence and attention made him forget all his worries. This was what he cherished the most, his time with you. Your care, your love. He felt, no, believed that he was the luckiest man alive. Contrary to Grace's words, you did pick him from the trash and made him your treasure.

When you both entered the mansion hand in hand, your smile immediately faded into a worried frown.

"EZRA!" Amir barely had time to react as he saw you rush up the stairs where Ezra was now slumped against the railing. The bag of pastries had been thrown from your hands and lay at his feet.

"ROWAN! CALL THE DOCTOR! What happened, Ezra?!"

"Di-did you bring the med...?" Ezra's one hand gripped your collar as the other his stomach.

"What medicine?!"

"The one I asked for..." Ezra's weary, hollow gaze turned to Amir, sending a chill through his very core. "Rowan, help me carry him." You shot a sharp glance over your shoulder at Amir as you hurried up the stairs.

'He did it again... God,' Thought Amir as he bent down to collect the crumbles scattered on the carpet. They mirrored his own shattered emotions and the fractured state of his new life.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I swear he asked for pastries... you believe me, don't you!? Please!"

"I said, let it go. Just shut up." You settled onto the bed, sighing as you saw him standing in the corner, emotionless.

"Amir, come here. There is something you should know." Your tone was soft, almost apologetic.

He sat beside the bed, his eyes cast on the floor. "Listen, I feel like you both don't get along, but that needs to change, okay? He is my brother, and you are my husband. Both of you are important to me. And I wanted to tell you that soon after having a talk with him, I will ask Mother to find a suitable bride for him. This family needs an heir."

Wait...

"Heir?"

"Yes, an heir. Even though, as you know, I'm not a fan of children in any shape or form, the line needs to continue. That is Ezra's duty, so he is essential to me. This whole tedious business of having children...ugh." You rubbed your forehead in frustration. "Whatever. But we will also treat them like our own, okay?" You loathed the idea of carrying a child yourself, and Amir was just as opposed to the thought of you experiencing any discomfort. The thought of losing you over that made him shiver. The business was more important to you than anything, and you made that very clear before marriage. Your word was law. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

"C-can't we both... adopt, though?"

"That's for another day and why adopt now when we can have our own? Ezra has to marry someday. It’s completely fair. He needs to grow up now."

Your tone and earlier outburst made him nod frantically, but a new emotion stirred within him , something close to amusement. Oh, how will Ezra react when you make him marry someone. Maybe it’s for the best, 'At least he’ll get off my back, hopefully.'

Yet, he also felt pity for the woman who would be bound to that two-faced bastard. Is your only goal to use your brother as a breeder? That’s even more amusing.

As you lay down, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. If Ezra were to provide you with a child one day, wouldn’t that make him more honorable in your eyes?

'No, after today’s stunt, I’ve had enough of this.'

You want a child, an heir--that’s clear, that's fine. But he won’t let Ezra exploit this situation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I--I mean--" Ezra stammered, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words.

You held his face in your hands, your grip firm yet gentle, your eyes searching his. "It's not like I am asking for something outrageous here," you said, your tone soft but laced with expectation.

Ezra's eyes darted away for a moment, then back to you. "I get you, but isn’t it too soon? I mean-"

"You're of age," you cut him off, your tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance. "You’ve never rejected anything I’ve asked of you before, and now you are?"

"NO! No, absolutely not, sister!" Ezra's voice was a mix of desperation and determination. "How can you even think that? I will do it. I will." Inside, though, his mind rebelled. It’s not the marriage that Ezra hates, it’s the idea of spending his life with some annoying woman. What if she turns out to be a snake too?! Oh, he won't forgive that, ever. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dread before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Great, then. Mother will surely find the most amazing match for you," you said with finality, turning to leave. "Just make sure to tell her what your type is. Remember, she shouldn’t just be a good wife but a perfect mother for my heir too."

Without another word, you exited the room, leaving Ezra alone with his spiraling thoughts. Did Amir put this idea in your head? Sometimes, Ezra just wanted to kill that son of a-

"Deep breaths, Ezra, deep breaths," he muttered to himself, trying to quell the surge of frustration. Yeah, his sister wouldn’t be happy if her husband was torn to pieces. 'This is your life now', seeing Amir’s face in this mansion every single day, and soon enough, a wife’s too. Ugh! He threw a vase at the wall in a fit of irritation. He won't ever be in peace until you divorce Amir.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on that for now. He had to carry out your order, even if he despised the thought of dealing with an annoying woman and whining babies. You had given him a task, a job, and he couldn’t let you down. He would never let you down.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Ezra's bride, Jean Aston, had been chosen--an arrangement made with a family friend. While Ezra couldn't have cared less about the choice, he at least appreciated that Jean stood out with her striking red hair and green eyes. His wife needed to be of some caliber, though in his view, only one person could be the true beauty of the marriage, and that person was unquestionably him. However, he also acknowledged the importance of passing on good genes to the heir you desired.

What he hadn’t expected was Jean’s bubbly demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had been too shy to meet him before the wedding?

"Can you be quiet? Can you be a bit more demure?" Ezra snapped, his patience wearing thin as she chattered incessantly, sitting beside him after their vows. "Look at me--am I being so chattery? Bride and groom are supposed to be graceful, woman."

Jean’s expression soured beneath her veil. "Wow, I was just trying to make small talk. I’ve been quiet since our engagement, so I’m going to talk now that we’re married. Also when is the food going to served?I am starving, how can-"

'God, just let this ceremony end already.'

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Amir sighed, silently wishing Jean the best. Poor girl didn’t know what she was in for. His mind wandered back to his own wedding, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard not to compare the two experiences and feel a twinge of sympathy for her. At least you are way better than Ezra. A lot...no, perfect in his eyes. Always.

Once they retreated to their room, Ezra lifted Jean's veil with a cold, expressionless face, cutting her off before she could utter a word.

"There are some things you need to engrain in that skull of yours. First, always show respect for my sister. Always. You know that, don’t you? Secondly, try talking less and listening more."

"Got it! Now, where’s my wedding gift?" Jean’s cheerful interruption made Ezra’s jaw tighten, but he quickly masked his irritation with a smooth composure.

"No, you tell me first--who advised you to wear a harvest gold veil with such questionable embroidery? Huh? Such a poor fashion choice. I’ve explicitly told your family that gold is my color, I wear it. I don’t want to see you in it again." His fingers traced the material with a disdainful touch. "This abomination definitely needs fixing ." Though the veil was actually quite pretty, he couldn’t accept the fact that she looked good in it-- perhaps more than he did which is a big no.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Months later, the mansion, once quiet and dull, now echoed with the cries of a baby boy whom you named, Joseph. Ezra handed you the baby first which you were hesitant to hold but did anyway, after all you asked for this. It only lasted for a few minutes before he dozed off in Jean's arms.

"Jean," you said, gently patting her head. She looked up at you with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, her eyes brightening with anticipation. You took the papers from Amir and handed them to her. "Here's a gift. A plot, in your name and another in dear Joseph's. You’ve earned it."

Jean’s eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. "Y-you didn’t have to, (Y/N)-"

"Jean," Ezra scolded gently, his tone surprising you. It seemed that your brother had softened a bit since Joseph’s birth.

"Don’t refuse (Y/N)'s gift. Accept it," he added. Jean nodded, her shyness evident, but her gratitude clear as she met your gaze. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Good, now rest. The nanny will arrive soon," you instructed, leaving with Amir in tow. Ezra shot a disapproving look at Amir as they exited.

"Don’t be rude to Brother Amir like that," Jean reprimanded.

"It’s none of your concern. Stop being his defender, anyway. Focus on the child, his upbringing must be perfect. And take care of yourself too--I don’t want you fainting while feeding him." With that, Ezra stormed out. Jean sighed, finding him as unpredictable as ever--hot one moment, cold the next.

The tragedy that struck when Joseph was just six months old was unexpected. The poor child fell gravely ill, and even the doctors couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with his stomach. But by some blessing, everyone's prayers were answered when Amir's remedy worked, one his mother used to give when they were sick as children and Joseph was saved. Had it been a moment later, who knows what could have happened. Even though Ezra didn't bother to thank Amir, it didn’t matter. Amir did it for you, for your child.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, I think it's been a while since I married you," you murmured, lost in thought.

Amir looked up from his book and chuckled, "Oh, you realized it now? I think it's been more than a while, my dearest."

"I know, I know." You now stood where he was seated, gently caressing his cheek. "I think it's time you start doing your duty here." You handed him the seal, "You're in charge of the household's budget now." Amir's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but brother Ezra--"

"Shush," you interrupted. "I decide how things are run here. And I’m giving you this responsibility. Don’t disappoint me."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he kissed your knuckles. "Never, I won’t ever dream of it."

From within, his heart was bursting with happiness. At last, he had something--something he wanted, something he could use as leverage against Ezra. His plan had worked flawlessly. His hidden knowledge of botany had made it all possible; plants to make poison, plants to make antidote. A soft giggle escaped him and so did some tears, as you left the room, the seal twirling between his fingers.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him as he saw the pain etched on everyone’s faces over Joseph. His own tears stung with remorse, but he believed it was a good plan--a necessary one to win your trust, your love. He hadn’t wanted to be so heartless, to poison his own child, but he felt he had no choice. Being Ezra’s doormat for so long had worn him down. And for once, watching Ezra in distress was so worth it. Amir couldn’t help but relish every moment.

(AN: OmG, Amir really turned dark, the poor innocent boi. Look how Ezra massacred my boy)

[estcaligo]

Sebek's scales

x reader * romantic, dramatic, focusing more on emotions than scales * Sebek's hands, eyes and ears are done, see #Caligo's stories

"Shh… there, there…" you whispered softly, your hand tracing slow circles on Sebek's back. His low groan rumbled through the quiet halls of Ramshackle, a thunderous expression of his hidden agony. His head rested in your lap, face hidden - as if from shame. He had come to you for solace, seeking comfort from the gnawing, relentless pain he had never expected to experience.

Sebek was growing scales. At last.

A couple on his neck, a few on his cheekbones, some on his back, and on his shoulders too…

It was something he had long awaited, a sign of his lineage manifesting in him. But the joy of this long-anticipated change was marred by the unfortunate surprise of unbearable discomfort. It felt like a wound trying to heal but never quite managing to, a constant need to scratch at what could not be touched - if he scratched, he'd risk tearing them apart with his strength. At this point, the scales felt more like a curse than the proud mark of the Zigvolt bloodline they were meant to be.

But it wasn't just the physical torment… it was the disappointment that burned in him, perhaps even more than the itching and pain. His grandfather had mentioned that these scales, a mark of their crocodile fae heritage, were supposed to come naturally - painlessly, without effort.

But Sebek wasn't fully fae.

Some genetic trick must have occurred, the half-human part of him must have twisted what should have been a prideful moment into a painful ordeal. A stark reminder of his mixed blood. A shameful slap in his face. It felt like another betrayal of his heritage, another sign that he was different in ways he couldn't control. And it tore him up inside, almost as much as the itching tore at him on the outside.

There were days - and long, sleepless nights - when the pain became unbearable, so Lilia, ever perceptive, suggested he spend those times with you. He knew that only you would be able to comfort him in this situation. Your boundless patience and kindness were some of the many reasons why you and Sebek had grown so… close, after all.

Lilia knew as well as you did - Sebek could only truly let down his guard in your presence. Far away from any mention of Malleus. In the presence of his liege, Sebek could never admit to weakness. Never confess to discomfort, let alone agony. He couldn't appear vulnerable - not even in front of Malleus' portrait!

So, after much bluster and loud denial, Sebek had accepted Lilia's offer. And there he was again - in your arms - his most trusted, cherished, beloved human.

To be honest, you didn't know much about the process he was going through. Much? Rather, nothing at all. You'd tried researching it, but Sebek's case was unique, and none of your studies had brought useful results. So all you could offer was your support - your warmth, your touch, your tender kisses, your embrace, your presence.

And that was more than enough for him.

At first, he grumbled and huffed, of course, too proud to fully surrender to your care (the usual routine in your relationship). But inevitably, he would end up curled in your lap, clinging to you when the pain spiked, his fists clenched tight when the itch became too much to bear.

To distract him, you would sometimes read aloud, sharing poetry. Or even snippets of random stories that would ignite his passionate opinions. His voice would rise as he debated with you, his eyes flashing, and soon he'd be pacing the room, animated and alive, the pain momentarily forgotten. You watched him with quiet joy, delighted to see your dear Sebek so full of life again. His voice loud, his gestures grand - your beloved, boisterous crocodile...

Who was growing his scales, despite the price.

You were proud of him, proud of this important moment in his life. And you swore to yourself that you would do everything you could to make this challenge easier for him. After all, he was there for you too, even if he didn't always show it.

Some said Sebek was an open book, but the more you learned about him, the more you realized - not everyone could read what was written within him.

Just because a book is open does not mean everyone can understand it.

Of that, you were certain. And maybe these scales would be like symbols, letters, writing a new chapter in his story. A chapter of a different kind of strength - forged in his unique pain and held gently in the warmth of your love. At the very least, they were writing these intimate moments now - moments you hoped you both would one day look back on and smile.

Sebek was strong. He would overcome this, just as you knew he could overcome anything. And no matter the challenge - whether scales, studies, nightmares, or war - you would be by his side.

Forever and always.

[mya-valentine]

Hey! Nice to see you open again!

I wanted to request a Kinich, Ororon, Lyney and Xiao x fem!reader of who fell first, who fell harder? trope please

Headcanon: Who Fell First, Who Fell Harder

Kinich: He Fell First, You Fell Harder

Kinich doesn’t outwardly express emotions easily, but the moment he met you, there was an undeniable pull. It was subtle at first—a quiet admiration for your generosity, your determination, and the way you seemed to light up a room without trying.

His falling was slow and methodical, just like him. He’d start noticing the smallest things about you: the way you furrow your brows when you’re focused or how you always manage to make people feel at ease. But his stoic demeanor hid it all.

You, on the other hand, fell much harder once you realized the depths of his loyalty and quiet affection. The way he remembered the little details, like your favorite food or how he’d silently place his coat over you when it was cold, made your heart race.

By the time you fell, it hit you like a tidal wave. His rare smiles and the way he’d open up only to you felt like treasures, and you realized just how deeply you were in love.

Ororon: You Fell First, He Fell Harder

Ororon’s reserved yet mysterious personality had you intrigued from the start. He had a certain charm to him despite his detached demeanor, and the way he treated others with a mix of blunt honesty and quiet respect made you fall first.

It wasn’t easy to crack his shell, but once you started to get to know him better, your feelings for him deepened. You admired his resilience and the way he carried himself, even after everything he’d been through.

Ororon, however, didn’t realize his feelings for you until much later. When it hit him, it hit hard. Suddenly, he found himself thinking about you constantly—your laugh, your kindness, the way you always believed in him when others didn’t.

For someone who had spent so long questioning his worth, your love felt like a revelation. (I can totally see him trying to ask Citlali what to do without actually asking her) He fell harder than he ever thought possible, quietly vowing to protect and cherish you in his own unique way.

Lyney: He Fell First, You Fell Harder

As the charismatic magician, Lyney was used to charming crowds, but something about you caught him completely off guard. Maybe it was the way you saw through his theatrics or the genuine kindness you showed even when he wasn’t in the spotlight.

He fell first, fast, and hard. Every time he performed, his eyes would wander to you, hoping to catch your reaction. He found himself pulling out all the stops just to see you smile.

You took longer to realize your feelings, unsure if his affection was just part of his show. But once he started showing you his quieter, more vulnerable side—the Lyney behind the curtain—you couldn’t help but fall hard.

When you finally admitted to yourself how much you cared for him, it felt like magic itself. The way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world, sealed the deal.

Xiao: You Fell First, He Fell Harder

Xiao’s quiet and brooding nature made it hard to get close to him, but something about his stoicism and sense of duty drew you in. You fell first, deeply captivated by his selflessness and the hidden softness you occasionally glimpsed.

At first, Xiao tried to keep you at a distance, not wanting to burden you with his karmic debt. But your unwavering patience and kindness slowly chipped away at his walls.

When Xiao finally fell, he fell hard. The realization that someone could care for him despite his flaws and pain was overwhelming, and he found himself fiercely protective of you.

His love was intense and all-encompassing, even if he struggled to express it. Every gesture, from shielding you in battle to simply watching over you silently, spoke volumes about how deeply he had fallen.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[oldsoul007]

taste

nicholas chavez x ex!reader

a/n: no disrespect to either of them or relationship all of this is just fiction!

Nicholas and y/n had a special connection when they dated. Their time together was filled with laughter, shared secrets, and memorable moments. However, as life moved on, they drifted apart, and Nicholas eventually found himself in a new relationship with a girl named Victoria.

Victoria is wonderful—kind, smart, and everything Nicholas could ask for in a girlfriend. Yet, despite his happiness with her, y/n is always in the back of his mind. He often finds himself reminiscing about the times he spent with y/n, the unique bond they shared, and the way she understood him like no one else.

Even though Nicholas tries to focus on his present with Victoria, there are moments when a song, a place, or a random memory brings y/n back to the forefront of his thoughts. He wonders how she's doing, if she thinks about him too, and whether their paths will cross again. This lingering presence of y/n in his mind makes him question if he ever truly moved on, or if a part of him will always belong to her.

Nicholas and Victoria were out for a casual stroll one Saturday afternoon when they unexpectedly ran into y/n. The encounter took Nicholas by surprise, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Y/n looked as beautiful and confident as ever, and seeing her brought a rush of memories flooding back.

"Hey, y/n. It's been a while. How have you been?" Nicholas asked, trying to keep his composure.

"I've been good. Just busy with work and everything. How about you?" Y/n replied with a warm smile.

"I've been alright. This is Victoria, by the way. Victoria, this is y/n," Nicholas introduced them, his voice slightly shaky.

"Nice to meet you, y/n!" Victoria said cheerfully.

"Nice to meet you too, Victoria. So, what have you been up to, Nicholas?" Y/n asked, her eyes lingering on him.

"Oh, you know, just the usual. Work's been keeping me busy. It's really good to see you, though," Nicholas responded, feeling a mix of emotions.

"Yeah, it's good to see you too. You look well," y/n said, her smile softening.

"Thanks. You too," Nicholas managed to say, his mind racing.

Victoria, sensing the tension, chimed in, "We should catch up sometime, all of us. It would be fun."

"Sure, that sounds nice," y/n agreed. "Well, I should get going. It was great running into you both."

"Yeah, take care, y/n," Nicholas said, watching her walk away.

As y/n disappeared into the crowd, Nicholas couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. He realized that his feelings for her were still very much alive, leaving him deep in thought about what to do next.

Victoria and Nicholas had been having a wonderful evening at home when the topic of y/n came up. It started innocently enough, with Nicholas mentioning their recent encounter.

"You know, it was really nice seeing y/n the other day," Nicholas said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Victoria's expression changed slightly. "Yeah, it was. But, Nicholas, I've noticed you talk about her a lot lately."

Nicholas looked puzzled. "What do you mean? She's just an old friend."

"Is she really just an old friend?" Victoria asked, her voice growing more tense. "Because it feels like there's more to it."

Nicholas sighed. "Victoria, you're overthinking this. Y/n and I have history, but that's all in the past. You're the one I'm with now."

Victoria shook her head. "I don't know, Nicholas. It just feels like there's something unresolved between you two. And it bothers me."

Nicholas's frustration began to show. "What do you want me to do, Victoria? I can't erase my past. Y/n is a part of it, but she doesn't have to be a threat to us."

"I just need to know that you're fully committed to us," Victoria said, her eyes pleading.

"I am committed to us," Nicholas said firmly. "But I can't change the fact that y/n was a big part of my life. You have to trust me."

Victoria looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. "It's hard to trust when I see how you look at her."

Nicholas softened, stepping closer to her. "Victoria, I love you. I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel secure. But you have to believe me when I say that y/n is just a friend now."

Victoria nodded slowly, wiping her tears. "Okay, Nicholas. I believe you. But let's not talk about y/n anymore. Let's focus on us."

"Agreed," Nicholas said, pulling her into a hug. "Let's focus on us."

As they held each other, Nicholas hoped that this would be the end of the tension between them. He knew he had to prove his commitment to Victoria and make sure she felt secure in their relationship.

Nicholas and Victoria were at the local bar when they unexpectedly bumped into y/n again. It was a moment of surprise for all three, but Victoria's reaction was different. As she watched Nicholas and y/n exchange warm smiles and familiar glances, something clicked in her mind. She realized that the connection between Nicholas and y/n was deeper than she had ever imagined. It was in that instant that Victoria understood the true nature of their bond, and a mix of emotions washed over her, leaving her both intrigued and contemplative about what this meant for their future.

Nicholas and Victoria were sitting in their living room when the tension that had been building up finally reached a boiling point. The topic of y/n had come up once again, and it was clear that Victoria was not happy about it.

"Nicholas, I can't believe you're still hung up on her," Victoria said, frustration evident in her voice. "Every time we run into y/n, you act like she's the only person in the room."

Nicholas sighed, rubbing his temples. "Victoria, it's not like that. Y/n and I have a history, yes, but it doesn't mean I'm still in love with her. We're just friends now."

"Friends? Really?" Victoria shot back. "Because it sure doesn't seem that way. You get this look in your eyes whenever she's around, like you're remembering something more than just a friendship."

"That's not fair," Nicholas replied, his voice rising. "I can't control how I feel. But I'm with you now, and that's what matters."

"But is it really?" Victoria asked, her eyes filling with tears. "Because it feels like I'm always competing with her ghost. I need to know that you're fully here with me, not just physically but emotionally too."

Nicholas took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Victoria, I care about you a lot. I don't want you to feel like you're second to anyone. I'm sorry if I've made you feel that way."

Victoria looked at him, her expression softening slightly. "I just need to know that I can trust you, Nicholas. That you're not going to run back to her the moment things get tough between us."

"I promise you, Victoria," Nicholas said, taking her hand. "I'm committed to us. I'll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

As they sat there, holding each other's hands, they both realized that this was a turning point in their relationship. They had to work through these issues if they wanted to move forward together.

Nicholas had been feeling increasingly guilty about his relationship with Victoria. He knew deep down that he couldn't continue pretending everything was fine. One evening, he finally mustered the courage to talk to her.

"Victoria, we need to talk," Nicholas began, his voice heavy with emotion. "I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to you or to me. I still have feelings for y/n, and it's not right to lead you on."

Victoria looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of hurt and understanding. "I knew this was coming, Nicholas. I just hoped things would change."

"I'm so sorry," Nicholas said, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. "You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I can't do that right now."

After the difficult conversation, Nicholas felt a weight lift off his shoulders, but he was also filled with a sense of loss. He decided to reach out to y/n, needing someone to talk to.

"Y/n, I ended things with Victoria," he confessed over the phone. "I couldn't keep pretending. But now, I feel so lost."

Y/n’s voice was gentle but firm. "Nicholas, I still love you, but we can't be together. Not right now. You need to figure things out for yourself first."

Nicholas sighed, feeling the sting of her words. "I understand, y/n. I just needed to hear your voice."

They both knew that this was a time for healing and self-discovery. Even though they couldn't be together, their connection remained a source of comfort and strength for Nicholas.

[itsswritten]

Cauldron-born.

“I hadn’t meant to hide this from you Rhysand,” Helion’s usual warm tone was replaced with something sterner, bolder— unwavering.

A breeze pulled on your skirt, the floaty material rippling under the wind. It was always warm in Day, but now, with the appearance of uninvited guests, there was a coldness in the air you hadn’t experienced before.

A bite that pulled at your skin raising goosebumps across your arms.

You guessed this reaction wasn’t a rare occurrence when facing the Night Courts Inner Circle.

Helion shifted his weight, his body stood in front of yours in a protective manner. A nervousness emitted from his energy, an emotion that actually seemed strange to even be associated with him.

Helion wasn’t the nervous type. Charming and flirtatious, bold and defiant— not nervous.

Helion pushed his shoulders back, his stance flexing against the shadowy group that had just arrived.

They had shaken him.

Perhaps you were naive to think these people wouldn’t, naive to believe you could live your life quietly. Slip through the cracks. Go unnoticed. No you were not destined for that, as much as your dear friend may have wanted that for you.

So if a quiet life was not meant to be, then you would at least claim it as yours.

With a light step you moved from behind Helion to his side, coming into full view of the group who had appeared unannounced in the courtyard. Your hand came to Helion’s gently, giving him a soft squeeze and light smile that stretched to your eyes.

How they had gotten through Day Courts shields didn’t come as a surprise really. Helion had divulged how powerful the High Lord of the Night Court was. That if he really wanted to take them all down, then Helion suspected in that unrelenting pit of power Rhys probably could.

But despite this power, Rhys had never ravaged control over the land. Helion was fond of Rhys and his family, they were allies. Perhaps he would even consider them friendly.

And yet Helion hadn’t told them about you.

Energies and rhythms rippled from their bodies, all with their own melody of colours unique to them floating towards you. Your eyes scanned over their features quickly, reading their expressions, the tight lines their faces made before one look pulled you to a hasty stop.

A hazel lock held you tightly as a males gaze ensnared you.

Golden rays broke through a midnight blue aura, trapping you in a moment that seemed to expand and retract all at once. He was the most beautiful male you’d ever laid eyes on, and it took every ounce of will power to pull your gaze from his.

There was a simmering at the pit of your stomach, something familiar and warm, and you swore you could hear singing—

“She is like us.” A female from the back of the crowd spoke, beautiful and sweet. Elain, you assumed. Her aura, one that resembled sunlight radiating in golden flicks. If you hadn’t known who she was you’d had assumed she was a Day court resident from her glow alone.

Elain stepped forward, another female stepping beside her as if they’d both been pulled by the same magnetic pulse to the front of the group.

This girl. This girl was Nesta. You were sure of it. That silver flickering aura licked at her skin, an energy so similar and yet so different to her sisters.

“Hm..no not exactly like us…” Elain seemed to mutter then, more to herself than anyone else. Her eyes scanning you as she tried to get a read, try and decipher what had pulled her here in the first place.

Why you had pulled them here.

“Something other.” Nesta spoke.

You don’t think she’d actually intended for it to sound so venomous, but the words had snapped like poison. You noticed how for a split second there was a softeness in her energy. Whether she was regretful of her tone or not, you had flinched at the word.

Other.

Hm. Perhaps that was the best way to describe you.

Elain glanced at her sister, her face not changing as she digested Nesta’s words. There was a shuffling behind them, only slight and small. Would barely be noticeable if it wasn’t so hard for you not to notice.

Him.

His scarred fingers twitched at his sides, shadows swirling around them as they peered over those giant black membranes that were drawn in at his back. A tattoo creeped up the side of his neck, peeking through his shirt as you followed up to his jaw. Black leather’s covered his body, blue siphons shimmering under the setting sun. You tried so hard not to let your eyes wander back, but as though you had no control you gaze landed on his.

Only to find he was already staring.

Azriel.

Helion had mentioned him to you before and you recalled how you had rolled the name a few times in your mouth. The name feeling so foreign and familiar all at once.l that you couldn’t help ripple the syllables on your tongue.

“Not cauldron-made, no not quite.” Elain had turned her attention back to you.

You had stepped forward now, stepped out from the shadow of Helion.

Stepped out to face what you had been avoiding.

“You are Cauldron-born.”

—

a/n: little rough draft of a new idea??! maybe?? I literally just came up with it and not really sure where I'm taking it hehe or if I even will. I know it's super vague so if an idea comes to mind when you read this then please share in the comment hehe

forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[ghsface]

BUT WHEN YOU GET ME ALONE, IT'S SO SIMPLE | spencer reid

Sumary: After years of friendship you decide to ruin it for good

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spencer, oral sex (f), semi-public, p in v sex, If I'm missing something, let me know

Word count: idk i just started writing and i couldn't stop

Author's note: So this is my first smut I hate it but I like it at the same time, tell me what you think, I also have so many things to publish, tell me if you want to be on my tag list, I'm sorry if there are misspelled words or spelling mistakes, my first language is not English🎀

The clock struck nine at night and the FBI office in Quantico was unusually quiet. The fluorescent lights flickered occasionally, adding a touch of surrealism to the atmosphere. You had decided to stay a little later to finish a report that had been piling up on your desk for days.

In the distance, you could see the tall, thin figure of Spencer Reid, still absorbed in his work. Ever since you joined the team, you had felt an undeniable attraction to Spencer. His intelligence, his unique way of being, and his charming shyness had captured you from the first moment.

You had noticed that your eyes met more often than you considered casual, and every interaction, no matter how small, left a mark on your mind.

There was something about Spencer that attracted you in a way you couldn't explain.

The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about, or the way he bit his lip when he was focused on his readings.

He was a man who hid so much depth behind a facade of calmness and analysis.

That night, as you went over your notes, your thoughts inevitably drifted to him. You imagined what it would be like to be close to Spencer, to feel his warmth, his touch. The thought made you smile and sigh at the same time. You decided that tonight could be different.

Maybe it was time to break down the barriers and see what lay beyond the furtive glances and accidental brushes.

You stood up from your desk and walked to the section of the office where Spencer was working. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and his eyes met yours. The spark in his gaze gave you the courage you needed to move forward.

“Hey, Spence,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm as your heart pounded. “You staying late too?”

“Yeah,” he replied, with a smile that made your knees weak a little. “I’m just finishing up going over some cases. How about you?”

“Same here,” you lied lightly, feeling your true intentions reflected in your eyes. “I thought I’d take a break and check on you.”

The conversation flowed naturally, but the tension between you was palpable. Every word, every gesture, seemed to be laden with deeper meaning. When you both realized the office was completely empty, the atmosphere changed. Spencer leaned a little closer to you, and you responded by moving closer as well.

“I’ve always felt like there’s something between us,” you murmured, your eyes locked with his. “Something that goes beyond simple friendship.” Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with emotion.

“I’ve felt it too,” he confessed. “But I never knew if you felt the same.”

Without thinking, you moved closer and took his hand. “So what do we do about it?”

Spencer didn’t respond with words. Instead, he gently led you towards one of the empty offices. He closed the door behind you, creating a small haven of privacy in the middle of the vast building.

The room was dark, lit only by the dim light coming in from the hallway. Spencer looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before. His hands found your face, and his lips landed on yours in a kiss that was gentle at first, but soon became more passionate and urgent.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath his shirt. Spencer responded with equal intensity, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You found yourself lost in the feeling of being so close to him, of feeling every beat of his heart against yours.

The kiss broke briefly, and Spencer looked at you with a mix of desire and tenderness. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

“Me too,” you replied, before pulling him back to you.

Clothes quickly came undone, each item of clothing falling to the floor in deliberate oblivion. The touch of his skin against yours was electrifying, every caress, every kiss, igniting a fire inside you that you didn't know existed. Spencer's hands explored your body with a mix of urgency and gentleness, as if he were discovering a hidden treasure.

His fingers found the clasp of your blouse, sliding it down deftly. You felt his breathing quicken as did yours. You helped yourself to get rid of Spencer's shirt, revealing his firm, sculpted torso. Your hands ran over his chest, enjoying the feel of his skin under your fingers.

Spencer led you to the office couch, and gently laid you down, placing himself on top of you. His hands explored every corner of your body, from your neck to your hips, and your sighs mixed with his in a symphony of desire. Every movement, every touch, was a declaration of love and desire, a testament to the deep connection you shared.

“This is more than I ever imagined,” you murmured, feeling the pleasure build with each caress.

“I know,” Spencer replied, his eyes filled with adoration as he looked at you. “This is just the beginning.”

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. His tongue traced circles over your skin, sending shivers of pleasure along your spine. When his lips found the edge of your bra, Spencer paused, looking up at you with a silent question in his eyes.

You nodded, giving him permission to continue. In one deft move, Spencer unclasped your bra, freeing your breasts. His lips found one of your nipples, sucking and licking until a moan escaped your lips. Meanwhile, his hands continued to explore your body, sliding down your sides and down to your thighs.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as he continued to torture you with his mouth. Every lick, every soft bite, sent waves of pleasure straight to your core. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, desire burning inside you with an intensity you had never experienced.

Spencer moved down, his lips trailing kisses from your breasts to your belly. He paused briefly to unbutton your pants, sliding them and your panties down your legs. You found yourself completely naked under his intense gaze, vulnerable yet aroused for what was to come.

His lips found the inside of your thighs, kissing them softly before moving to your center. When his tongue finally made contact with your clit, a cry of pleasure escaped your lips. Spencer alternated between licking and sucking, bringing you to the edge again and again without letting you fall.

“Please, Spencer,” you begged, desperately needing more.

He looked up, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

“I want you to enjoy every second of this,” he said, his voice husky and laden with passion.

With those words, he slid up, aligning his erection with your entrance. He looked at you once more, seeking confirmation. You nodded, and he thrust slowly, filling you completely. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless.

Spencer began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first. You could feel every inch of his length, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your nails dug into his back, your moans filling the room as he increased the pace.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice cracking with effort. “I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

“Me neither,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “Don’t stop, Spencer.”

His movements became faster and stronger, each thrust bringing you closer to climax. You could feel the heat building in your belly, a delicious tension threatening to boil over at any moment. Spencer leaned into you, his lips finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss.

When you finally reached orgasm, your body arched beneath him, a cry of pleasure tearing through your lips. Spencer kept thrusting, bringing you to a second climax before letting go, his own orgasm exploding inside you.

You both collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily as you tried to recover. Spencer held you close, his hands gently caressing your back as you rested your head on his chest.

“That was amazing,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin

“Yes, it was,” he replied, his voice filled with satisfaction. “I love you.”

"I love you too spence,” you said, feeling overwhelming happiness knowing that you had found something truly special.

You stood there for a while, enjoying the closeness and newfound intimacy. You knew this would change everything, but you were both ready to face whatever came. Spencer looked at you with a satisfied smile and you smiled back, feeling a happiness you had never experienced before.

“I think we should head back before someone misses us,” he finally said, with a soft laugh.

“Yeah,” you replied, though a part of you wanted to stay there forever. You quickly dressed, adjusting your clothes and hair before leaving the empty office. As you returned to the main area, a few coworkers glanced at you curiously, but no one said anything. The spark in your eyes was enough to make everyone understand that something significant had happened.

The next few days were filled with knowing glances and secret smiles. The connection between you had deepened, and though you tried to remain professional, it was hard not to let your feelings seep into every interaction.

One night, after a particularly long meeting, Spencer invited you over to his house for dinner. You eagerly accepted, knowing that this would be another chance to explore your relationship.

The dinner was intimate and relaxed. You talked about everything and nothing, enjoying each other’s company without the pressures of work. After dinner, you sat down on the couch, and Spencer pulled you close to him.

“I love you,” he said, his words filled with sincerity and emotion.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling your heart fill with indescribable joy.

The kiss that followed was slow and deep, filled with the promise of a future together. Spencer led you to his bedroom, and that night, you gave yourselves over to pleasure and love again, knowing you had found something truly special.

Over time, your relationship grew stronger. You learned to balance work and personal life, finding ways to support each other both professionally and personally. The team noticed the change, but everyone stood by you, knowing you had found something rare and beautiful.

Every day with Spencer was a new adventure, a chance to discover more about him and yourself. The passion and connection you shared never waned, and together, you faced every challenge that came your way.

And so, what began as a silent attraction in an empty office turned into an epic love story, one that neither of you had anticipated but one you both embraced with your entire being.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly☆

[anantaru]

DAY 3 — BIMBOFICATION

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. bimbofication — the process of transforming into an airheaded slut, perfectly happy to be used and degraded

𖧡 — including — ayato, childe

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, bimbofication, degrading, rough & messy, slight possessive reader but only a little + they're possessive of you too lmao, name calling (fucktoy, bitch in heat, cocksleeve), petnames (angel, baby), both parties are consenting

𖧡 — AYATO

"angel.. my precious angel."

ayato slips a finger inside you, the dark outline of his silhouette mountainous on top of you, holding you captive, and he doesn't do anything besides gnashing on your jawline, until listlessly working his way down to your neck, taking your breath away when he glides the digit in and out effortlessly, then adding the second, gently working himself on your hole, imprinting his touch and trails on your walls, watching eagerly how you're engulfing him in with your cunt.

without any resistance making itself visible from your side, you appear to be enjoying this, a little too much— at the same time, you're such an adorable, precious toy to him, always clinging yourself around his arm whenever he was in near sight of you, your smirking lips puckered up into a dirty smile with a glossy film of sparkly lipgloss sleeving the flesh, day-dreaming about having the yashiro commissioner's heavy, piercing cock jamming your insides.

in any case, with how quick things were proceeding now, you love how the heel of his palm repeatedly humps your clit, the blows of it stinging at the puffy flesh before you arch your back into his hand, giggling within a clouded sigh, you're so excited to have his attention, grinning from ear to ear.

the drive ayato had on you, controlling, delightful trembles inching over the length of your spine when he calls you his precious, perfect fucktoy— the only one, you made sure of that.

when he tells you how utterly proud he was of you taking him so very well, especially when he can witness your eyes rolling back at the second of your cunt becoming so warm and constricting, it brings you to tears when listening to such loving words, being praised in such, "unique" way, where one might say it's not praise in any way, but for you, it's nothing but the most sugary, most tasteful expressing of approval to you.

it's easy once you gave yourself over to him, meaning his status and his power and made yourself his property, to that of someone being responsible to satiate the mans needs, conquer the aching pain in his groin whenever he was too busy or clocked up to do so himself. and the pleasure he made you experience, fuck, it reached the pit of a forming bubble, when he reaches into your walls with his slender fingers, your cunt clamping at the contract with the whistling in your head placing black dots on your vision.

yes, certainly— you realize then, you wanted to be treated like that.

forgetting about what others may whisper and gossip behind your back, why would you care, they might be just jealous for all you know— and for whatever reason ayato keeps you close to him, if there was a somewhat, deeper, connection or emotion he began to develop for you— baring in mind that he was the exact opposite of an outgoing player that pursued any women, only having you to touch and trace, fuck and kiss, it could possibly happen that somewhere in between his puzzling, swishing lines of thinking, kamisato ayato can work up the courage to feel something serious in regards to you, something contrasting to viewing you as this convenient toy, his darling cocksleeve, always there for his immediate use.

𖧡 — CHILDE

childe shushes your helpless mewls softly when he laps his tongue around the warm insides of your mouth, his cock taking advantage of your soft, weeping pussy, and how you're proudly presenting it all to him— just for him, you're his, in all respects, and he has trained you well, looking at how your toes curl when you greet him with a hazy, beclouded grin as you vibrate at his shaft moving along your soaked walls before pressing his tip against your g-spot.

"ohh- my, baby." childe groans, lecherous eyes gazing at your erotic body, "you're so good to me, when you let me fuck you like a bitch in heat." and he dominantly holds you up by your trembling knees, parting your pussy to accommodate the thudding stir of his length splitting you without a single care in this world, and every time he pulls himself balls deep into your hole, you gush and slick him up, making a mess of his girth and upper thighs, whimpering all wetly and perceiving how your cheeks are not only stained by your tears, but also flustered by his unique, scandalous choice of words.

but you wanted it that way, truly, being a harbingers personal belong, his little plaything you may say, as he liked to address you as well, it was intoxicating to be as slutty as possible to get his attention.

you can't help yourself but giggle out bubbly whenever he buys you something special too, an expensive gift— handled with delicate, tactful care, opening the package to find a silken lingerie-set that childe had personally picked out for you, barely awaiting the day where he can rip it off your perfect body, assuring you he'll purchase a new one in no time.

how come, you aren't even more riled up by now? your pretty pussy was so reactive to his length, easily affected by the largeness of his girth parting you for good, you're wet all day from the constant day dreams, drooling about childe's cock all day long, or about his hands grabbing and massaging your soft skin, how you knew how much he liked whenever you presented your exposed tits to him, vigorously massaging the nipples before pressing them against his chest.

"you feel good, hm?" ajax whispers into your ear, on the teetering edge of filling your womb with his seed, rolling his strong hips in and out of you before curving one palm around your cheek to force you to meet his gaze— yet your eyes were barely open, but that smile, it made him both shiver and admire your beauty, an expression so radiant on your lips that it startled even a harbinger.

"fuck, you're a mess." he licks his lips, and you foggily nod your head when he voices it out loud, helplessly hiccuping his name whilst grabbing on his chest to make him cling onto you and never let you go, well, not until he made you cum— your pussy being pillowed over by his cock bulging into you, indulging in the sensation of your soft, doused cunt slapping back against his groin, all wanting and desperate.

in spite of appearance, childe was aware that you were precisely into this manner of being treating, but in a sense, so was he, deep down believing that he’d never feel any satisfaction that could even scratch on the one you placed on him.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Fem!Reader (Part.1)

They react to your outfit for your date with them (Part.1)

As you step out for a much-anticipated date night, your partner reacts with their unique blend of admiration and protectiveness, captivated by your stunning appearance.

Characters: Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Stephen Strange, Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Thor, Loki & T'Challa

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony's eyes widen the moment you step into the room, his witty remark momentarily caught in his throat. For once, he's speechless. It's a rare sight to see him without his usual smirk, and you can't help but grin at his reaction. "Wow... just wow," he finally manages, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. He's used to being the one to impress, but tonight, you're stealing all the attention, and he loves every second of it.

- As you twirl in front of him, the soft fabric of your dress catching the light, Tony steps closer, adjusting the cufflinks on his suit as if trying to match your perfection. "You know, I always knew you were out of my league," he quips, though there's a sincere awe behind his words. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body through the tailored suit.

- "How am I supposed to focus on dinner when I have this sitting across from me?" he teases, his voice lowering to that playful, flirty tone that makes your heart skip. His fingers trace lightly along your back, the intimate touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe we should skip the reservation altogether," Tony suggests with a grin that tells you he's only half-joking.

- Despite his playful nature, there's a tenderness in the way he looks at you, his usual bravado replaced by something softer. Tony Stark, the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, is totally smitten. "Let’s make this night one for the books, shall we?" he says, offering his arm with a rare sincerity that makes you feel like the only person in his universe.

Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier)

- Bucky’s not the type to show his emotions easily, but the way his jaw tightens when he sees you walk into the room speaks volumes. His blue eyes darken, tracking every movement as if he’s committing the sight of you to memory. "You look..." His voice trails off, and for a moment, he just stares, like he’s trying to find the right words but can’t. When he finally speaks, it’s almost shy. "...Incredible."

- He shifts awkwardly in his spot, his metal arm twitching slightly, a nervous habit he’s never quite shaken. Despite his quiet demeanor, there’s something fierce in the way he looks at you, like he’s still in disbelief that someone like you could be with someone like him. "I should’ve worn something nicer," he mutters, glancing down at his black jacket. You quickly reassure him with a smile, and he exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

- As the two of you prepare to leave, Bucky steps closer, his hand hesitantly brushing your arm before resting on your waist. His touch is gentle, but you can feel the strength behind it, the contrast between his flesh hand and the cold metal one. He leans in, his voice soft, "You make it real hard to focus on anything but you."

- He may not be as smooth with words as some, but the way Bucky looks at you says everything he struggles to express. You catch the small, rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips—one that’s just for you. He holds the door open, his protective instinct kicking in even though this is supposed to be a simple night out. But you know, with Bucky, every moment feels like it's filled with unspoken emotions, deep and unbreakable.

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve’s eyes light up the second you enter the room, his usual composed, all-American charm faltering just a little as he takes in your appearance. "Wow," he breathes, his voice soft but filled with admiration. He steps toward you, ever the gentleman, offering a hand to help you down the last few steps, even though you don’t really need it. "You look stunning," he says, his smile warm and genuine, the kind that makes your heart flutter every time.

- There’s an innocence to the way Steve reacts—like he’s seeing something truly beautiful for the first time, even though you’ve been together for a while. He straightens his jacket, a small flush creeping up his neck as if he’s the one trying to impress you, not the other way around. "I feel like I should’ve dressed up more," he jokes lightly, though his eyes don’t leave yours for a second.

- As he wraps an arm around your waist, you can feel the strength in his hold, reassuring and gentle all at once. Steve leans down to place a soft kiss on your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "I’m the luckiest guy in the world," he murmurs, his voice sincere in a way that only Steve Rogers can manage. He never takes you for granted—not for a second.

- Throughout the night, Steve can’t seem to stop glancing at you, as though he still can’t believe he gets to call you his. Even when he pulls out your chair at the restaurant or holds your hand during the walk back, there’s a quiet reverence in everything he does. "You deserve the best," he tells you, his blue eyes shining with love and respect. And you know, with Steve, he’ll always mean it.

Sam Wilson (Falcon/Captain America)

- The second Sam sees you, a wide grin spreads across his face, his usual playful confidence shining through. "Okay, hold up," he says, his voice filled with admiration as he gives you a once-over. "I didn’t think it was possible, but you just raised the bar." His gaze is warm, appreciative, and you can’t help but laugh as he walks over, his swagger evident in every step.

- "You trying to make me look bad?" Sam teases, though you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s completely smitten. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your arm before pulling you in for a quick spin. "Damn, you look good. Like, really good." There’s no holding back with Sam—he’s always been the type to say exactly what’s on his mind, and right now, all he’s thinking about is how incredible you look.

- As you walk together to the car, Sam keeps sneaking glances at you, his smile never fading. He opens the door for you with a dramatic flourish, ever the showman. "You sure we’re going to the right place? ‘Cause I feel like I should be taking you to the red carpet or something," he quips, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

- During the date, Sam is the perfect mix of fun and affectionate, cracking jokes to make you laugh while also finding moments to be sweet. At one point, he leans in close, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "I know I joke around a lot, but... I’m really lucky to have you. You know that, right?" The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, but it’s moments like these that remind you why you fell for him in the first place. Sam Wilson may be all charm and wit, but when it comes to you, his heart is all in.

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen’s reaction is subtle but telling. His sharp eyes flick over to you the moment you enter the Sanctum, widening slightly as they trail down the length of your figure. He doesn’t speak right away, and you know you’ve caught him off guard—which, for someone like Stephen Strange, is no small feat. "You certainly know how to make an entrance," he says at last, his voice smooth, but there’s a softness in it that surprises you.

- He steps closer, his robes shifting gracefully as he reaches out, fingers lightly grazing your arm. "You look... otherworldly," he remarks, his usual confidence tempered with a kind of reverence, like he’s seeing something magical—something he didn’t conjure himself. Stephen has seen countless dimensions and mystical beings, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at you now that feels entirely human. His fingers linger, tracing the fabric of your dress, as if he's studying every detail with the same intensity he reserves for spells.

- "We might not need a portal tonight," he quips, a rare hint of humor in his voice, "because I’m not sure I want anyone else in this universe to see you like this." It’s half a joke, but there’s a protective edge beneath his words. For a moment, the Sorcerer Supreme isn’t thinking about the mystical realms or ancient threats—he’s just a man in awe of the person standing before him.

- Throughout the night, you catch him stealing glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. There’s something grounded about Stephen tonight, a rare vulnerability. And when he slips his hand into yours as you walk through the city, it’s without pretense—just pure, quiet affection from a man who’s seen everything and still thinks you’re the most stunning thing in existence.

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint’s eyes light up the moment he sees you. "Whoa, wait a second," he says, his voice filled with playful surprise as he looks you up and down, a grin spreading across his face. "Am I supposed to be your date tonight? Or is there some movie star hiding around here?" Clint’s always been quick with a joke, but the admiration in his eyes is genuine, and the way his voice softens just a bit tells you he’s impressed.

- He walks over to you with that easy, casual stride, hands finding their way to your waist as he pulls you in for a hug, his lips brushing against your forehead. "You clean up pretty nice," he teases, though there’s a hint of awe in his tone. Clint is used to seeing you in casual clothes or even combat gear, but tonight is different, and he’s not hiding how much he loves it.

- "Now I’m really feeling underdressed," he jokes, glancing down at his outfit, which, while nice, doesn’t quite match the level of your look tonight. He’s got that laid-back charm, but you know Clint well enough to see the little flicker of self-consciousness in his eyes, even if he hides it behind a grin. You reassure him with a smile, and he relaxes, pulling you closer as if you’re the only two people in the world.

- Clint might not make a big deal of it, but throughout the night, he can’t stop complimenting you. Whether it’s a casual “You’re killing it tonight” or a more heartfelt “I’m the luckiest guy around,” his words, though simple, are full of sincerity. He loves that you don’t need all the bells and whistles to shine, but tonight, you’ve got them, and he’s soaking up every second.

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter’s jaw literally drops when he sees you, his wide eyes blinking in disbelief as he stumbles over his words. "Oh my gosh... wow... you—wow," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flush red. It’s adorable, watching him try and piece together a coherent sentence. "You look amazing," he finally blurts out, still staring at you like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

- He’s awkward at first, nervously adjusting his tie and shifting from foot to foot, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably. "I—I mean, I knew you’d look great, but this? You’ve seriously outdone yourself," Peter says, and you can’t help but smile at how genuine he is. His hands hover awkwardly before he finally takes yours, squeezing them gently as he continues to fumble through his awe.

- "I’m gonna be the luckiest guy at the restaurant," he says with a grin, though you can tell he’s only half-joking. Peter’s not used to this kind of attention, and seeing you all dressed up for him has completely flustered him in the sweetest way possible. "Do I look okay?" he asks, glancing down at his suit and then back at you with a sheepish smile, clearly hoping he’s at least halfway as presentable as you are.

- Throughout the night, Peter can’t stop complimenting you, whether it’s nervously gushing over how amazing you look or cracking jokes to hide his nerves. "I don’t even know what to do with my hands," he jokes, trying to play it cool. But the way he looks at you—like you’re the most incredible person in the world—tells you everything you need to know about how much this night means to him.

Thor (God of Thunder)

- Thor’s reaction is immediate and dramatic, his booming voice filling the room the second he sees you. "By Odin’s beard, you are a vision!" he exclaims, his eyes lighting up with pure admiration. There’s nothing subtle about Thor, and his excitement at seeing you dressed up is no exception. He strides toward you with that confident, larger-than-life energy, sweeping you into a hug that lifts you off your feet for a moment.

- "This is truly a grand occasion," he declares, his deep voice rumbling with pride as he looks you over with a beaming smile. Thor isn’t shy about showing his admiration, and he’s clearly thrilled to see you looking so incredible. "You shine brighter than the stars themselves tonight," he adds, his compliments as grand and poetic as ever. His eyes sparkle with warmth, and there’s something almost boyish in the way he can’t stop looking at you.

- Thor, ever the gentleman, offers his arm with a gallant flourish, bowing slightly as if you were royalty. "Shall we make our grand entrance together?" he asks with a grin, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. There’s an infectious energy about him tonight, and you can tell he’s as excited for the evening as he is to be seen with you by his side.

- Throughout the night, Thor treats you like an absolute queen, making sure you’re comfortable and constantly reminding you of how magnificent you look. "It is an honor to stand beside someone as radiant as you," he says at one point, his voice soft and sincere. His hand never leaves yours, and with Thor, every moment feels like a celebration. He makes you feel as if the entire night revolves around you—because in his eyes, it does.

Loki (God of Mischief)

- When Loki first sees you, his reaction is subtle yet intense, his green eyes darkening as he takes you in. "Well, well," he murmurs, a sly smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t rush toward you like others might—instead, he lets his gaze linger, the look in his eyes making you feel like you’re the most captivating thing he’s ever seen. "You’ve truly outdone yourself," he says, his voice smooth as silk, full of admiration and a hint of possessiveness.

- He slowly circles around you, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your dress as he takes in every detail. "I always knew you were stunning," Loki purrs, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone, "but tonight, you've left even the gods speechless." He steps closer, his hand sliding to your waist, the coolness of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His smirk widens as he feels your reaction, his teasing nature coming out in full force.

- "Shall we make all the realms jealous tonight?" he asks with a raised brow, his voice full of mischief. Loki’s always loved making an entrance, but tonight, it’s clear that he’s more focused on the fact that he has you by his side. "I daresay none will be able to take their eyes off you," he whispers, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks, making your heart race.

- Throughout the night, Loki is his usual charming, mischievous self, constantly finding ways to draw you closer—whether it’s with a flirty comment or a teasing touch. Yet, behind the playful banter, there’s something deeper in the way he looks at you, as if you’re the only person in the room who truly matters. And when he pulls you in for a slow, deliberate kiss at the end of the evening, it’s clear that he’s as captivated by you as you are by him.

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa’s reaction is a perfect blend of admiration and quiet awe. When you enter the room, his deep brown eyes immediately lock onto you, his usually composed expression softening. "My love," he says, his voice rich and smooth, as he approaches you with a regal grace. There’s a moment of silence as he takes you in, his gaze warm but intense, as though he’s seeing you for the first time. "You look... breathtaking," he finally says, his voice full of genuine respect and adoration.

- T’Challa steps closer, his hand gently reaching for yours, lifting it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. "You honor me with your beauty tonight," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours. His words are always deliberate, full of meaning, and the way he looks at you now makes it clear that he’s beyond proud to be seen with you by his side. His admiration isn’t just for your appearance—it’s for you as a whole.

- As King of Wakanda, T’Challa has attended countless events and diplomatic gatherings, but tonight, he seems more focused on you than anything else. "It is a privilege to be with you," he says softly, his hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you through the evening with his usual poise. Even in a crowd, his attention never wavers, and you feel like the center of his world.

- Throughout the night, T’Challa is the perfect gentleman, always attentive, always respectful. His hand remains intertwined with yours, and every now and then, he’ll lean in close to whisper something in your ear—small, private compliments meant only for you. "You are more beautiful than any star in the sky," he says quietly, his voice full of quiet reverence. And when the night comes to an end, T’Challa takes a moment to stand with you under the stars, pulling you into a tender embrace as if he never wants to let you go.

[innieseong]

“𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠”

✧꡴ - 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - 𝐛𝐟!𝐣𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✧꡴ - 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 - 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 & 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

✧꡴ - 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 -𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

✧꡴ - 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 𝟏.𝟐𝐤 (𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐤 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 .. :𝟑)

✧꡴ - 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝, (𝐟. 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠) 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩??

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 - 𝐉𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 .. 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐲.

✢ - 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

✢ - 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

✢ - @innieseong

✧꡴ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝟐 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 .. 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐨, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 :𝟑 (𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝:𝟑)

✧꡴

Jay woke up to the soft glow of sunlight creeping through the curtains, his mind still heavy with sleep. He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth beside him before he even opened his eyes. Turning his head, his heat warmed.

You were there, lying next to him, your face calm and relaxed in sleep. For a second, he just stared, the steady rise and fall of your breathing pulling him fully into the moment. Your hair was a little messy, splayed out across the pillow, and there was a peacefulness in your expression that made his chest tighten.

Jay’s large hand slid lazily down your side, fingertips tracing idle patterns against your smooth skin. He hummed low in his throat, nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck to breathe in more of that intoxicating floral scent. Vanilla and jasmine, with just a hint of something uniquely you...it made his head swim in the best way.

A sleepy murmur tumbled from your lips, your brow furrowing slightly as if trying to surface from the haze of slumber. Jay watched with hooded eyes, thoroughly entranced by the play of emotions flitting across your face - the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, that small pink tongue darting out to wet your lips.

His hand continued its teasing path lower, tracing over the dip of your belly before venturing down to cup your mound. He could feel the heat radiating off you, the soft dampness even through the thin barrier of your panties. Growling low in his throat, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and tugged them down your legs, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.

"Shit..." Jay rasped out, voice rough with lust. He parted your thighs, settling himself between them as he used his knees to spread you wide open. The visual alone was almost enough to make him come undone - your glistening folds, swollen and inviting, just begging to be tasted. He had to swallow thickly, blinking away the haze of desire clouding his vision.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight - swollen lips parted invitingly, slick with your arousal. The tempting scent of your musk filled his nostrils, making his cock throb almost painfully against his sweats.

"Fuck...look at this pretty little cunt..." he rasped out, voice gravelly with lust. "Bet you taste even sweeter than you smell, angel face."

Grasping your hips for leverage, Unable to resist any longer, he ducked his head, dragging the flat of his tongue along your slit in one long, slow lick. He groaned at the taste of you - sweet and tangy. The flavor burst across his tongue, making his body shudder with pleasure.

Throwing himself into it, he sealed his mouth over your clit, sucking the sensitive bud between his lips as he flicked his tongue rapidly over it. All the while, he kept his eyes locked on your sleeping face, watching the way your brow furrowed, how you bit your lip to stifle the moans he could feel rumbling through you.

"Mmmph...that's it, baby. Gonna make you feel so' good..." Jay mumbled against your heated flesh, the words slightly muffled. He lapped at you hungrily, tongue delving deep to gather up every drop of your sweet nectar.

At the same time, he slid both hands beneath your thighs, tilting your pelvis upwards so he could thrust his tongue deep into your entrance.

He fucked you with his tongue - a filthy, obscene sound that filled the quiet bedroom. Jay lapped and slurped at you, reveling in the way you squirmed and clenched around the invasive muscle. Every now and then he'd pull back, blowing cool air over your swollen clit before diving back in, alternating between broad licks and targeted flicks.

He could feel his own arousal growing, cock throbbing insistently where it lay trapped against in his sweats. But he ignored it for now, determined to bring you to the edge first. To make you come undone on his tongue before he even thought about sliding into your tight, wet heat. Jay was nothing if not a patient man when it came to pleasuring his woman...

Suddenly, your eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly as you surfaced from the haze of sleep. It took a moment for you to register the sensation of Jay’s mouth on your most intimate parts, his tongue lapping hungrily at your slick folds. A breathy gasp escaped your lips when realization hit, back arching off the bed as a jolt of electric pleasure shot through your core.

He glanced up at you through his lashes, mouth still working between your thighs as he drank in the sight of you - cheeks flushed, lips parted, gaze hazy with pleasure.

"Mornin'..." he rasped out, voice still rough and gravelly with sleep. He smirked, the self-satisfied expression clear even with his face buried in your cunt. "And here I thought you were gonna sleep right through me eating this pretty pussy of yours."

One hand flew down to tangle in his hair, fingers twisting in the silky strands as you tried to ground yourself. It was almost too much, waking up to him between your thighs like this, his skilled mouth driving you rapidly towards the edge.

Jay merely hummed in response, the vibrations sending delicious shivers racing down your spine. He redoubled his efforts, tongue delving deep to fuck your hole as he sucked hard on your clit. The filthy wet sounds of his ministrations filled the room, punctuated by your breathy moans and whimpers as you squirmed beneath him.

"Let me hear those sweet little noises..." Jay mumble against your slick flesh, the words muffled but no less arousing. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding her open and exposed as he feasted on you like a man starved. He was relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you wild with need.

He could feel her growing more aroused by the second, the evidence of her desire coating his tongue and dripping down his chin. The knowledge that he was the one causing such a reaction in her never failed to turn him on, his cock throbbing insistently against the bed.

You could feel the scrape of his slight stubble, the hot puffs of his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh with each pass of his tongue. It was almost too much to bear, the intensity of it, but you didn't want him to stop. Couldn't stop the needy little moans and whimpers spilling from your lips.

"Oh god...Yes...Just like that..." you panted out, hips rolling instinctively to meet his eager mouth.

"F-fuck...that feels...nngh..." You squirmed, unashamed in your need. You learned by now that Jay loved it when you were vocal, when you let him hear just how good he made you feel. So you didn't hold back, hips rolling shamelessly against his face as you chased your pleasure. There was something so erotic about watching him between your thighs, seeing the way his eyes glazed over with lust as he devoured you.

"Baby, I'm...I'm gonna...shit!" Your orgasm crashed over you suddenly, a tidal wave of ecstasy that left you shaking and gasping for breath. Your thighs clamped around his head, holding him in place as you rode out the aftershocks, grinding against his tongue through the intensity. When you finally collapsed back against the bed, chest heaving, Jay was still there - still lapping at your oversensitive flesh, drawing out every last spark of pleasure until you were boneless and sated.

Feeling your shuddering thighs relax their vice grip on his head, he finally pulled back with a lewd slurp, licking his lips to savor the lingering taste of your essence. A smug, satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he crawled up your body, settling his weight on top of you.

"Mornin' again, gorgeous..." he rasped, voice still husky from his ministrations between your legs. Jay nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing a few lazy kisses to your racing pulse point. "I could get used to waking up to the taste of this sweet pussy every day."

Jay pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded with desire. A lazy smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips trailing lightly over your cheek.

"Mmm, as much as I love starting the day with my face buried in this sweet cunt, we should probably think about getting up, don't you think?" he murmured, voice like gravel. "Though I gotta say, staying in bed with you all day sounds pretty damn tempting right about now."

To emphasize his point, he rolled his hips, grinding his pulsing cock against you in a slow, deliberate motion. The friction made him hiss through his teeth, eyes fluttering shut briefly as pleasure jolted through him. When he opened them again, they were molten with renewed hunger.

"But I suppose we should at least pretend to be responsible adults for a little while, huh angel?" He chuckled lowly, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth before reluctantly pulling away to sit up. "How about some breakfast? I'll whip us up something good if you come keep me company in the kitchen."

He offered you his hand, an unspoken invitation. Even after all this time together, the simple act of touching him still sent a thrill down your spine. Jay’s skin was warm, rough with calluses where his fingers brushed against your own. He had an effortless strength to him, borne from years of physical labor, and you never failed to find it incredibly attractive.

"C'mon, beautiful..." Jay cajoled with a wink, giving your hand a gentle tug. "Let's see if we can't rustle up some grub that'll stick to our ribs. Gotta keep our energy up if we're gonna be spending all day in bed later, yeah?"

✧꡴

✧꡴

[littlest-w01f]

All Night Long

Rhysand x Reader

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

BDAY CELEBRATION

Summary: Throughout the party his father threw for him, he only wished to spend time with you.

Cw: None

Rhysand knew that as Heir to Night, his father would always want to show him off, and even if he had to pretend to like the lavish decorations, the thousand tiere cake, all the people he didn't even know here to congratulate him. He didn't like it, all he had asked for was a quiet birthday in Velaris with Azriel and Cassian, and of course, you. But his father had brought him to Hewn City to throw the giant party he was dreading

His gaze drifted around the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for any sign of his mother, you, Azriel or Cassian amidst the crowd. You were his only solace in this overwhelming celebration. Rhysand's heart ached for the simple gathering he had envisioned, just them, sharing laughter and cake in the comfort of Velaris.

The Heir grew increasingly restless as the night wore on at Rhysand's lavish birthday celebration. The opulent decorations, decadent feast, and lively music were all mere background noise compared to the captivating presence of his favourite - you.

Your radiant smile, the way your eyes sparkled with mirth as you laughed at your brother's jest, how you seemed to shine even in the dark of the Court of Nightmares, the gentle sway of your hips as you moved through the crowd, every aspect of you held Rhysand entranced. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt such an intense, all-consuming desire to be near someone.

As the party reached its peak, the dancing and music increasing, Rhysand made his move, slipping away from his parents and their expectant gazes. He wove through the throng of faeries until he finally reached your side, pulling you close into the shelter of his embrace, away from Cassian.

His scent enveloped you, a heady mix of dark magic, citrus, the sea, and something uniquely Rhysand that stirred your senses. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against his chest as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

"I need a break from all this," Rhysand murmured, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers traced idle patterns on your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. "Will you dance with me, y/n? Just the two of us?"

His voice was low and husky, filled with a silent plea. At that moment, nothing else mattered except the pulse of his heartbeat against yours, the press of his lips so tantalizingly close to your ear.

Rhysand guided you onto the dance floor, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. The pulsating rhythm of the music enveloped you both as you began to sway to the beat.

Under the flickering candlelight, Rhysand's movements were fluid and graceful, each step perfectly timed to the melody. His free hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he drew you closer. Your bodies moved in harmony, a sensual, slow waltz that belied the intensity of the emotions simmering between you.

As you danced, Rhysand's eyes never left yours, drinking in every detail of your expression. He savoured the feel of your body pressed against him, the warmth of your skin, the subtle give of your body as you moved in tandem.

Your bodies moved in sync, a mesmerizing display of grace and sensuality under the shimmering lights of the grand ballroom. Every touch, every brush of skin against skin, was infused with a tender reverence, a palpable yearning that threatened to consume them both.

Rhysand's hands roamed over your curves with a delicate precision, as if tracing the contours of a precious work of art. Each caress sent ripples of pleasure through you, heightening your awareness of his closeness, the intoxicating aroma of his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

In this intimate space created solely by their entwined forms, the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a dreamlike state of connection.

"You're so beautiful when you let yourself lose control," Rhys whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Like a goddess dancing under starlight."

He spun you around, guiding you into a series of dizzying turns that left you breathless and giddy. In the whirlwind of movement, you clung to him, your cheek pressed against his chest, inhaling the addictive scent of his skin.

As the song slowed, Rhys pulled you close once more, his forehead resting against yours. "Happy birthday, Rhys," You murmured, your voice tender. "Though I'm not sure I'd call this the celebration I promised you... I suppose your father gets more of a priority over little ol' me in party planning."

His lips hovered inches from yours, tempting you with their proximity. You could almost taste the sweetness of his words, the promise of forbidden delights yet to come.

A low chuckle rumbled in Rhysand's chest at your words, vibrating against your cheek. "Little ol' you?" He teased, his fingers playing with a stray lock of your hair. "Hardly. You're the most important thing in this room, in my life."

He leaned back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "But don't worry about my father. Tonight is about us, y/n. I'm about you."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion, as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. In those deep, violet eyes, you saw a depth of feeling that took your breath away - a raw, vulnerable longing that mirrored the tumultuous storm within your own heart.

"You've given me far more joy than any grand celebration ever could," Rhys continued, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin beneath your bottom lip. "Just being near you, dancing with you... It feels like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I never knew was missing."

Rhysand's confession hung between you, a fragile thread of vulnerability woven into the fabric of the night. In that moment, the pulsing music, the glittering chandeliers, even the expectant faces of the other guests faded into insignificance. There was only you, him, and the electric tension crackling between their entwined forms.

"Rhys, I-" You spoke, eyes misty, throat clogged, you didn't know what to say. Your voice caught on a hitch of emotion, unable to fully articulate the complex tangle of feelings swirling inside you. Rhysand's words had laid bare the depths of his affection, exposing the raw, beating heart beneath his enigmatic exterior.

He seemed to sense your turmoil, his own expression softening into a look of tender understanding. "It's okay, y/n," he reassured you, brushing a gentle kiss across your temple. "No words are needed. Just knowing you feel it too… That's enough."

Rhysand's lips trailed a path of fire along your jawline, pausing to nip lightly at your earlobe before whispering, "Let's get out of here. I want to celebrate my birthday properly, just the two of us."

Rhysand's words were a siren's call, beckoning you to abandon the crowded ballroom and its expectations for a more intimate, private celebration. The thought of escaping into the night with him, just the two of you, sent a thrill coursing through your veins.

"Yes," You breathed, your consent a whispered promise in the hush of the music. "Let's go."

Hand in hand, you slipped away from the festivities, Rhysand leading you through the winding corridors of the throne room. The sound of laughter and music faded behind you, replaced by the soft rustle of fabric and the quickened beat of your hearts as Rhysand summoned his wings, holding onto you as he flew you out.

Finally, you emerged onto the mountains overlooking the Court of Nightmares. The night air was cool from the snow that covered those tips.

"Would you like to go to the Moonstone palace or stay here, my darling?" Rhysand whispered, holding you close as the wind whipped through your hair, carrying the scent of winter and magic. The Moonstone palace gleamed in the distance, its ethereal beauty illuminated by the silvery glow of the full moon overhead.

"The Moonstone palace sounds enchanting," You replied, gazing up at Rhysand with adoring eyes. "I've never been..."

A soft smile curved Rhysand's lips as he nodded, his wings folding neatly against his back. "Very well, then. Let's make our way there."

Together, you soared through the star-studded sky, the wind whipping your hair into a wild tangle as Rhysand's powerful wings propelled you forward. The moon cast an ethereal glow over the landscape below, illuminating hidden valleys and ancient forests.

As you approached the moonstone palace, its radiant beauty took your breath away. Delicate spires and arches glinted like polished gemstones, casting cold colours across the surrounding terrain.

Upon landing on the palace steps, Rhysand turned to face you, his eyes smouldering with a hunger that had nothing to do with sustenance. He reached out, cupping your face in his palm, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone.

"My birthday wish has come true," Rhysand murmured, his voice low and velvety. "Being here with you, under this enchanted sky, makes everything else irrelevant."

"Well, I supose I will have to return the gift I got you..." You held your hands behind your back, hiding your face so he wouldn't see your blush.

Rhysand's eyes brightened. "You got me a gift? Oh, darling, you didn't have to..." He reached for you, holding onto your waist and pulling you in closer.

"Don't be silly, Rhys, it's your birthday." You giggled in his chest, "I... I don't have it right now, it's back in the cabin... I hid it there."

Rhysand hummed with a smile, resting his head on yours, "Mmm... Then I can't wait to get home, darling. For now..." Rhysand pulled away and spun you fast.

As the hours slipped by, Rhysand and you lost yourselves in the timeless rhythm of the night, moving together in perfect synchrony. The moonstone palace became a dreamscape, its ethereal beauty mirroring the enchanted atmosphere that surrounded you both.

Under the spell of each other's presence, you twirled and swayed, your bodies blending into one harmonious entity. Rhysand's strong arms cradled you close, his hands exploring the curves of your body as if committing every contour to memory.

The world outside receded further with each passing moment, until all that existed was the pulsing beat of the music, the soft brush of skin against skin, and the intense, all-consuming desire that burned between you.

In the heart of the moonstone palace, where shadows danced upon walls of living silver, you and Rhysand surrendered to the intoxicating embrace of the night. The music, a seductive melody woven from stardust and moonbeams, pulsed through your very being, igniting a fire that consumed all rational thought.

Lost in the depths of Rhysand's eyes, you saw reflections of your own desires, mirrored back at you in shades of darkest violet. His fingers traced patterns of possession upon your skin, branding you as his in a language only the heart could understand.

Time ceased to exist, measured only by the rising and falling of your chests, the synchronized thrum of your hearts. In this timeless realm, there were no boundaries, no limits to the passion that surged between you.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff}

{Rhysand Taglist- @yeonalie}

[arguablysomaya]

Nightwing's weird fem-coding

! LONG POST !

Finally got around to jotting down my thoughts on the weird way that Dick Grayson (Nightwing) often occupies female-coded roles without being a particularly feminine guy. This is entirely due to me procrastinating on my finals. Okay!

Dick has often been cited as the hero who plays into the "female gaze", and he takes up some key roles that are typically reserved for women characters.

A large portion of Dick's fem-coding is contingent on his being with his family, and when he's not with them, this fem-coding kinda drops away, such as when he's with his various teams or acting solo.

His most prominent (and imo, complex) femme-coded role is:

-> Eldest Daughter + Widow

Eldest daughter syndrome means " frequently feeling like you’re not doing enough, like you’re struggling to maintain a veneer of control, like the entire household relies on your diligence." It's born out of the unique way that first-born girls are expected to take on adult roles around the household before they've had an opportunity to fully experience childhood (an opportunity their younger siblings will have, in part due to this sacrifice). It creates a strong sense of independence and a desire to be a good role model, but also leads to undue pressure and perfectionism.

Dick acts as a central emotional pillar for those in his family. To the point that when he fakes his death, it breaks something fundamental in the family dynamic:

Not only is it repeatedly made clear that Bruce depends on Dick to act as a lifeline for his own mental struggles, but moreover, his siblings do as well. In a very literal sense, the maintenance of the batfamily rests on Dick's shoulders. Bruce is so rarely available for emotional support that these children turn to the next best thing, which, to be fair, is better than what Dick had growing up. He has to clean up so many breakdowns, it's honestly pretty staggering.

As the OG sidekick, Dick receives quite a bit of hero worship, particularly from younger heroes/sidekicks, who look toward him for guidance. As a naturally upbeat and welcoming person, Dick ends up in the position of bringing light to everyone, not just Bruce. For example, here's Cassandra:

This balancing effect is unique to Dick's skill set. However, this can (and does) backfire very easily. The same pragmatism Bruce engages in hurts extra bad when coming from Dick: like when Dick had to take Robin away from Tim. Not to mention just how intimidating Dick's legacy is, which can create resentment when his successors aren't able to play this role so easily. For example, Jason both before and after his death expressed insecurity that he felt he was constantly being compared to Dick, and falling short.

As the original character that people think of when they think "sidekick", DG Robin (and his successors) had the advantage of not losing prominence even as his contemporaries (Kid Flash, Aqualad, Wonder Girl, etc.) were de-prioritized in favor of independent teenaged heroes (like Cyborg, Beast Boy, Raven, and Starfire). But that means Robin as a concept now has to deal with questions that weren't so prominent in the earlier decades, such as: "How do we justify a grown-ass man using a child (and in fact, children) as emotional crutches?"

It's icky to think about, but there's no denying that early Batman and Robin got side eyes for homosexual subtext. I mean, they literally call each other "partners". So while that "subtext" was, and remains, just audience speculation, given Dick is literally Bruce's adopted son, there is room, I believe, to call into question how healthy it is for Bruce's oldest kid to be taking on a nearly-parental role and be a core pillar of Bruce's emotional regulation.

Hot take here, but I think Dick's relationship with Bruce was/has been pretty emotionally incestuous for a long time.

-> Emotional incest

"Emotional incest[...] is a type of emotional abuse performed by a parent. In cases of emotional incest, parents rely on their children for significant emotional support, which is a reversal of roles. Emotional incest is more than just relying on your kids on occasion—rather, it is an extreme dependence on them." (There's a pretty good argument to be made that Bruce has been emotionally incestuous with all his Robins, especially Dick and DEFINITELY Tim, but y'know. Small steps.)

Emotional incest is a semi-common consequence of eldest daughter syndrome; the natural conclusion of deputizing a child to manage the other children combining with an inability to see the child as a child, still in need of emotional guidance, but more like an adult capable of shouldering the burdens of grown-ups dumping their traumas on them.

To be clear here, while emotional incest may not be incest in the most traditional, taboo sense, it is still abuse. It's putting a burden on a child they shouldn't have to carry, even for children that aren't dealing with such extreme burdens as "grown-ass man running around in a fursuit needs me to keep him from getting himself killed". It's a perversion of a healthy parent-child relationship, where the child is treated more like a partner than a child. In Dick's case, it further exacerbates the parentification he already experiences. This is made more explicit when Bruce "dies" and Dick is cast into a sort of "Widow" role.

Dick reluctantly dons the cowl in an attempt to bring order to his family members. He's also left to parent Damian, alone. He has to make the decision to take Robin from Tim, and try to deal with the fallout from that decision. He has to put a stop to Jason's fratricidal rampage. He's made into the de-facto head of the family.

And the thing about this is: Dick's not even bad at it. In comparison to Bruce's litany of disasters-in-parenting, Dick does a pretty bang-up job of managing his siblings, heading the Justice League, and being Batman. But the crucial point is that he does this at the expense of his own mental health, which is the crux of eldest daughter syndrome. There's no denying that at the time, Dick was most certainly the best choice for New Father Figure, but it was a choice he was pushed into, and a sacrifice he had to make. When this sense of responsibility to the point of self-sacrifice is pushed to its logical conclusion, it has the effect of making Dick a Martyr-type figure.

-> Protector/Mama Bear/Avenger

Dick has shown repeatedly that his hot button is his family. From Tony Zucco to allowing Blockbuster to be killed after the villain targeted Haley's Circus, going after Nightwing's family is a pretty good way to earn yourself an asskicking. Probably the most infamous example of this is when Dick thought the Joker had killed Tim, beating the clown to death to avenge both Tim and Jason.

And while this role isn't particularly feminine, I do think it's interesting that Dick protects his family members from each other with almost the same frequency that he protects them from outside threats. He's pretty notorious for wrangling Damian and Tim, foiling Jason's murder plans, and most importantly, beating the shit out of Bruce whenever he crosses a line, such as when Bruce asks Dick to conceal being alive from their family to join Spyral or when Bruce wanted to abandon the Bruce Wayne persona after the murder of Vesper Fairchild. Or of course, more recently after Bruce's latest MK-ULTRA shenanigans.

This basically puts Dick in the position of being the glue that holds the family together, at basically all times, but especially in times of conflict. This also means he's put in the dangerous position of bodily defending his younger siblings from Bruce's wrath or irresponsibility, a position made even more awkward given the whole emotional incest thing.

That's not to say that Dick's relationship with his family is 100% unhealthy. Dick and his family members (including Bruce!) feel legitimate affection and care for each other. There are times when the dynamics here are indeed healthy. And like most people with eldest daughter syndrome, the unhealthy nature of this dynamic is usually understated. Oldest sibling syndrome is often just an unavoidable consequence of how parenting works. So while I am of the opinion that this dynamic is often unhealthy, hot take: I'm fine with that.

Now, though I've just listed some tropes that he only falls into around family, Dick also falls into some fem-coding all the time, regardless of who he's with, and these have to do mostly with his sexuality.

-> Sexual Assault & Harassment

Yeah, so nobody is surprised that this is a factor. Look up any list of the top ten hottest/sexiest/most attractive male superheroes, I guarantee 9/10 times Nightwing is number 1. However, unlike his father, whose attractiveness is usually played as a part of the male wish-fulfillment fantasy, something people aspire to be, Dick's attractiveness more often makes him an object of desire- very similar to how most attractive female characters are perceived.

And as an object of desire, Dick Grayson is constantly having to deal with being objectified.

Now, Dick Grayson being an attractive character is not the problem. Dick Grayson being sexually assaulted isn't even the problem. the problem is that he keeps being harassed, assaulted, and raped in ways that are flagrantly nonconsensual, and yet it's not treated with the seriousness it deserves. In fact, it took a full decade for Devin Grayson to retract her previous statement and admit that yes, the rooftop scene with Catalina Flores was in fact rape, and it's never been acknowledged in-universe (though, comics have always been atrocious at calling out sexual abuse of all kinds, let alone that which targets men).

Hell, even when he in-universe calls it out, he's dismissed immediately and the story continues like nothing happened.

Like???

Dick's adult sexcapades (which were consensual and enthusiastic) have long contrasted with the numerous times he's been harassed; times in which he comes across as bored, exasperated, and even frustrated with his own attractiveness and the vulnerable position it often leaves him in.

This puts him in the rare (in comics) position of being a male character who consistently and near-exclusively has his sexual agency and boundaries violated by women - a position that authors uniformly refuse to examine despite writing him into it all the fucking time.

Other characters around him frequently make comments passing off this harassment and assault as a natural consequence of Dick's own attractiveness, making "jokes" that essentially amount to "I understand why someone would want to assault him". Which- UH?

There is also, of course, the unavoidable reality that as an acrobat and an aerialist, he receives a very specific type of sexual harassment

the nature of nightwing's fight style necessitates a type of tight-fitting suit that male heroes typically don't go for: an extremely slick suit with bare-minimum armour that again, makes him vulnerable in a way most male heroes aren't, but a style female heroes wear all the time, whether it makes sense for them or not. This of course then allows artists to draw attention to this fact by posing Nightwing in poses usually reserved for femme fatales:

And unlike the Hawkeye Initiative, these poses are (largely) unironic, and not played for jokes. Dick isn't arching his back or looking over his shoulder to poke fun at how female heroes are treated; he does so because the artist (clearly correctly) sincerely believed these poses would play into the unironic gaze of the audience, and also probably thought it was hot. It's the same line of thought artists use when posing femme fatales.

He's even been known to use his sexuality as a bargaining chip, much like more traditional Femme Fatales. In Batman and Harley Quinn (2017), he refers to sleeping with Harley Quinn after being kidnapped by her as one of "the things I do for Gotham", to which she responds "I'm taking that as a 'yes'." And that's uh- not how consent works.

And this particularly sucks because- HELLO? The opportunity to explore the very real and tragically underacknowledged phenomenon of sexual violence against men is literally invaluable, especially with such a prominent character. It's one thing to ignore that men face sexual violence, it's another, entirely more unforgivable thing to continuously and explicitly depict such scenarios and play them off as jokes or not as serious as they clearly are. But what did I expect from an industry that has never had a good track record on sexual violence anyway.

-> Queercoding?

There's also of course the fact that DC has been, as of late, dropping hints that Dick might be bisexual.

That on it's own doesn't mean anything, but when paired with the fact that DC has been angling toward giving Dick a similar playboy persona that Bruce has, just with men included, it's just very interesting.

(BTW: The likelihood DC actually commits to making Dick bi is, uh, not a lot, but if they're gonna stick with this weird closet stuff for a while, let's hope they do so in a way that doesn't make him sound like a cross between Donald Trump and Harry Styles next time? Please?)

Anyway, all of this is basically to say I am forever fascinated by the gender dynamics of Dick Grayson, likely due to the fact that I'm projecting all my eldest daughter traumas onto him, and that someone who's background is in Gender Studies needs to get on this shit if they haven't already. I just love this character sm.

[arctickat2400]

Precious ∞ Henry Cavill

Henry Cavill x Curvy!Reader

Word Count: 907

A/N: Just something random I had in my notes and although I didn’t have the story altogether before writing it, I had an inkling to write, and so I did. It’s really just thoughts dumped out onto pages. Enjoy this mess of fluff!

* * * *

“Hello, darling,” Henry smiled from the recliner, dropping his book momentarily, as you walked into your bedroom that evening. You’d just walked through the door after getting home from a long day at work, having kicked off your shoes and dropped your backpack in your office. 

You returned the smile, although not as enthusiastically as your fatigue is overpowering all other emotions. However, just looking at Henry makes all the stress of the day fall away. 

“Hey, bear,” You walked to him, bending down to meet him in a sweet kiss, your hands cupping both sides of his face. You pull away before heading towards your en suite bathroom, leaving the door open so you’re able to talk to him while you go about your business.

“How was your day, princess?” Henry questioned, closing his book while marking his page with his finger. 

“Busy, chaotic, but a lot has gotten done, so I guess that’s good,” You answered nonchalantly with a shrug as you made your way back through the bedroom and into your walk-in closet to change. 

Pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it into the hamper, you were just about to ask Henry how his day was when he happened to look up at your movements and noticed your shapewear.

“Baby?” You froze at Henry’s baritone voice after unbuttoning your jeans. You turned to him, a confused expression adorning his face. You knew what he was looking at - you didn’t usually wear shapewear, but this morning you’d felt particularly insecure about your stomach and you felt uncomfortable in your jeans. So, you’d decided to try your shapewear again after getting used to being without it, and it had made you feel better, even if it was only slightly. It helped your insecurities, tucking in the extra fat that accumulated on your waist and tummy.

“Come here, love,” Henry gestured for you to go to him, waving his hand toward himself, his index and middle finger moving back and forth to guide you to him. 

“Okay, let me just change f-” You tried to continue taking your jeans off, but Henry made you pause again.

“No, no, come here,” He said firmly, but gently. You hesitantly made your way to him, a mix of concern and curiosity on what might be on his mind.

Henry set his book down on the side table and situated himself on the edge of the recliner as he set his hands on your waist and placed you between his legs. You gripped onto his wrists to steady yourself, your mind becoming fuzzy.

Carefully, with his fingers hooked over the waistband, Henry began lowering your shapewear down from over your belly, leaving them to sit low on your waist. Your eyes were locked on his, and neither did his mesmerizing cerulean blues ever leave yours. 

“Baby, you are so beautiful. I cannot stress that enough. Your belly is so adorable, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it,” Henry began to explain once he exposed your belly entirely. He placed his hand over your tummy as a shiver ran down your spine. 

“You do not need to have a flat stomach for me to love you, and whatever you might believe others think about you doesn’t matter in the slightest. There is no need to hide, sweet girl. You do not need this,” He tugs on the waistband of your shapewear where it sits on your waist. “You are as gorgeous as ever even if your beautiful belly is visible through your clothes. I think it makes you that much more stunning, my darling. It’s all uniquely you and everything that I love about you I’m able to show off,” Henry smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss to your tummy, making you giggle in response. That just made Henry’s smile grow bigger, nuzzling his nose into your tummy, holding your soft sides.

“I’m sorry,” You started, taking one hand and tangling it through Henry’s hair, massaging the nape of his neck. “I just wasn’t feeling quite myself this morning, and ended up going back to my old ways.” Henry gazed up at you with loving intent in his eyes. 

You used to wear it all the time before Henry, but after him, he’d made you feel so loved, so seen, so beautiful, that you’d completely forgotten about it. Until today, of course.

“If you ever feel like that, you know you can tell me,” Henry mentioned, rubbing his thumbs over your tummy.

“I know. It’s just that once I put it on, it made me feel a tiny bit better once I put my jeans back on. But I know I don’t need it,” You expressed as Henry began lowering your jeans down your legs, helping you step out of them, before removing your shapewear as well.

“No, you don’t need them, because my precious baby is so much more beautiful without the restrictions,” Henry pauses to stand, pulling your body against his, one hand around your waist and cradling your head in the other. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone as you nuzzle your nose into his palm. “You’re so precious, darling, and I will cherish every single part of you for as long as I live,” His gaze on you is full of the utmost adoration, how could you ever feel anything less than the most grand love that this man feels for you?