#even though I love it and prefer it to the first one

[venusveil]

Unpopular opinion

(about the zodiac placements)

[⚠️ Disclaimer: This post contains mature content. Viewer discretion advised.]

☃︎Virgo Moons aren't clean freaks — they’re just emotionally constipated with a label maker.

☃︎Scorpio Risings don’t intimidate people — they just look like they hate everyone (including themselves).

☃︎Someone said Leo Moon Needs attention like plants need sun. And I gasped dramatically. (a Leo Moon)

☃︎Pisces Rising doesn’t have “aesthetic” — they have main character delusions with a blurry filter.

☃︎Libra/Scorpio is loyal... but only when they feel like you’re giving them main character energy. If not? Bye.

☃︎Pisces Mercuries will lie to your face cry about it and then forget they even did it.

☃︎Sagittarius Venuses don’t fear commitment — they fear boredom. Yes, that includes you babe.

☃︎Venus in Aquarius has Detachment kink. Will have you in a situationship for 3 years and call it “energy exchange.” Wants to be your partner, best friend, cult leader, and FBI agent.

☃︎ A Mars in Leo partner Will f*ck you like it’s an Olympic sport and expect a 10/10 review. Gets angry if you don’t moan their name like a prayer.

☃︎I’ve got Sagittarius Mercury in the 3rd — anytime something bad, good, or nostalgic hits me, I write. Been journaling since I was 9, mostly about people and how I see them.

☃︎Gemini Suns are not two-faced — they just have 87 tabs open and one of them is definitely plotting.

☃︎Libra Risings don’t flirt they’re just trying to survive awkward social tension by being extra friendly.

☃︎Cancer Suns aren’t sweethearts — they’re passive-aggressive historians of every wrong ever done to them.

☃︎Mars in Gemini will talk you into a threesome, ghost you, then DM you a month later like nothing happened.

☃︎Cancer Mars is horny for emotional danger. If it doesn’t feel like a toxic situationship. they’re not turned on.

☃︎Venus in Leo gets off on jealousy. Flirting in front of their partner is foreplay not betrayal.

☃︎Virgo Venus is secretly into degradation kink but will judge your grammar mid-hookup.

☃︎Aries Mercury wants to argue just to get horny. “I hate you” = “Take your pants off.” hehe.

☃︎Aquarius Mars will ghost you mid-sex to “reconnect with their higher self.”

☃︎Libra Sun will pretend they’re innocent but their search history says otherwise. The first time I met my best friend (she's a libra) I literally thought she was the most innocent person ever. In reality she's far away from innocence.

☃︎Taurus Moon doesn’t care about your feelings unless you’re in their bed and brought snacks. Preferably both.

☃︎Capricorn Venus doesn’t fear love — they fear looking stupid for loving someone.

☃︎Libra Mercury isn’t a good communicator — they just know how to dodge accountability with charm.

☃︎I don’t hate Geminis — I actually love them.Except the ones with Pisces mixed in.Those are lying, manipulative chaos goblins. Sorry not sorry.

☃︎Sagittarius Moon isn’t deep — they just trauma-dump and leave.

☃︎Scorpio Mercury doesn’t keep secrets — they collect yours.

☃︎Aquarius Sun – Thinks they’re mysterious but just avoidant and allergic to real connection.

☃︎One thing about Aquarius: they’ll treat their friends like family, but stay emotionally detached from their actual family.

☃︎Libra Moon – Can’t process their own emotions, but gives everyone else therapy

☃︎Libra & Taurus placements do love beauty, but will still date the most questionable-looking people ever.

Libra/Taurus Venus or Mars, though? Nah. We need to be visually obsessed. I’m a Libra Venus & Mars — tried dating someone I wasn’t into ended up isolating myself.

☃︎Scorpio Sun + Leo Moon They will watch your story 5x, analyze your texts, and never admit it. These baddie falls first. But they’ll die before telling you. (I'll die single but never admit that I've crush on you.)

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[invincibledc]

⋆˙⟡#A MAN, A MAN, A- MANNN!⋆˙⟡

⭑.ᐟDEMETRIUS PRINCE(OC) X BATSIB!READER

ᯓ★ SYNOPSIS: the times Demetrius showed he’s a man for you!

ᯓ★GENRE: fluff

ᯓ★INFO: This is a superson OC I’ve written for my own amusement. Demetrius is clearly the son of Diana Prince, and being the older brother of Elizabeth “Lizzie” Prince. Reader is the twin sibling of Damian, Damian being the older sibling. He’s canonically handsome cause he’s the son of Diana Prince. He has those Amazon genes.

ᯓ★WC: 1,265

FIRST TIME.

The first time he proved he was a man for you was when you didn’t like your order. It was straightforward: you decided to venture beyond your usual comfort food preferences. You love meat, especially chicken and eggs, but this was an opportunity for something different.

You were at a quaint restaurant, on what felt like a discreet date—one that Damian would undoubtedly take issue with, considering he’d probably go after this Amazon male for daring to date his twin sibling.

But you appreciated the way he treated you. He opened the door as you entered, pulled out your chair, and pushed it in after you sat down. You suppressed a giggle as you noticed a faint blush on Demetrius’s tanned cheeks. The menu offered several enticing options, and while you found one of your comfort foods, another dish grabbed your attention.

Demetrius studied you intently. “Did you find what you want?” he asked, his tone gentle as he set his menu down.

“Uh.. I think so?” you replied, unsure. As you handed him your menu, he leaned in closer.

“What are you getting?” His anticipation was palpable.

You showed him your choice. “Ah, that’s... unique,” he commented, then confidently ordered for himself and included your choice to the waiter.

When the food arrived, you inhaled the delightful aromas, smiling at how delicious everything smelled. But it was clear that Demetrius's dish looked even more appealing. You tasted yours, giving it a chance based on the enticing smell. That was a mistake; the dish was utterly repulsive. You masked a gag and discreetly spit it into a napkin.

Demetrius ate from his plate, feigning ignorance to your struggle, but a smirk tugged at his lips. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, managing to suppress a chuckle as you nervously glanced at him.

“Can... can I have some of your food?” you asked, not wanting to impose, even though you’ve known him long enough in years.

“Sure,” he replied with a chuckle, switching plates with you without hesitation. Your eyes widened in surprise as he took a bite of your distasteful meal.

“Demetri, you didn’t have to do that—”

“I wanted to. I knew you wouldn’t like your food,” he said, leaning back in his chair after wiping his mouth. “That’s why I ordered something I knew you would enjoy.”

He clearly relished the moment, watching your eyes light up with appreciation. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, thank you, beloved. That was very considerate of you.”

“I know. Now eat up, moró mou.”

That date turned out to be surprisingly romantic.

SECOND TIME.

The second time it happened, Demetrius clearly showcased his protective side. You and he were out for another casual hangout, just the two of you. You confidently held onto his arm, appreciating the way his muscles flexed under his sweatshirt.

On that chilly winter afternoon, you strolled through the city, both of you enjoying your time there. However, Demetrius started to look bored, yawning as you smiled and hummed, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. You noticed someone around your age throwing glances your way, but you didn’t think much of it until you caught them staring at you again.

Feeling a shiver run down your spine, you instinctively leaned closer into Demetrius. The unwanted attention made you want to shrink away, but Demetrius sensed your discomfort immediately. He looked down at you and then shifted his gaze to the person who couldn't stop staring.

His jaw clenched tightly as he positioned his large frame in front of you, effectively blocking the person’s view. With a fierce glare from his deep blue eyes, he silently dared them to try anything. The moment the person felt the heat of Demetrius’s intimidation, they quickly looked away.

From that point on, Demetrius took it upon himself to shield you from anyone's gaze for the rest of the day. He grasped your hand firmly in his, making it clear that he wanted you close by and wouldn’t let you wander off.

THIRD TIME.

The third time, and now the present moment—Demetrius demonstrated that even a touch of makeup doesn’t diminish masculinity. His little sister Lizzie, on the other hand, was clearly bored and insisting that he play dress-up with her.

He insists he’s focused on his future spouse—on you. He reclines his wavy black hair onto your lap, leaning in to kiss your hand as you run your fingers through his hair. In the background, Lizzie pouts and storms off to her room. You can’t help but frown; the girl just wanted someone to play with.

“Come on, beloved, she’s just looking for someone to play with,” you say firmly, withdrawing your hand as he attempts to kiss it again.

Demetrius groans, rising with his eyes cast down. “That brat can entertain herself with her dolls for all I care.”

He was struck sharply in the head, coupled with an intense glare from you. “Demetrius Prince. You will play with your little sister; she clearly looks up to you.” With that, you got up and exited his room, shutting the door behind you—and leaving the frustrated Amazon male to sigh deeply.

Running a hand through his hair, he got up and followed you. He might be a jerk, but you were absolutely right about Lizzie admiring him. He found you in her room, engaged in a lively tea party.

Demetrius leaned against the door frame, a confident smile spreading across his face as he watched his cute lover and sister play together. You exchanged a knowing glance, aware he would follow you into the room.

Without hesitation, he plopped down next to you on the rickety little chair that felt like it could collapse at any moment under his weight.

Lizzie pouted. “No! That spot is for Ms. Gloria!” she declared firmly. Demetrius rolled his eyes. “Guess she’s not coming, then.”

The tension between the siblings was palpable, each giving the other a pointed glare until Lizzie’s face lit up with mischief.

“Then you’re Ms. Gloria!” she announced with a cheeky grin.

“What?!” Demetrius exclaimed, his voice echoing, causing you to stifle a laugh behind your hand.

Although he could have protested, he surrendered to the moment, allowing you and Lizzie to enthusiastically apply makeup on him.

He looked surprisingly good with a touch of red lipstick and blue eyeshadow. There was no denying it—his looks certainly made him a pretty boy.

“You know, most guys would rather die than put on makeup, my beloved.” You said decisively as you reached for some blush. Demetrius huffed, crossing his arms defiantly. “Well, I’m not like most guys, babe.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at his protest. “You’ve got that right.”

As you cupped his face to apply a hint of blush, Demetrius opened his eyes, his breath steady as he locked onto your face and then traced down to your lips.

“…you’re really close,” he murmured, his voice low. You paused, a playful smile crossing your face. “Am I?” you asked, leaning in even closer. The hint of blush on his cheeks morphed into a genuine flush as he placed his hands firmly on your hips.

“Yep…” he said before pulling you in for a soft kiss. Responding felt like pure magic, but it abruptly shattered when Lizzie gagged dramatically at the sight of her older brother kissing you.

“Eww!! Cooties!!” she exclaimed, her tongue sticking out in mock disapproval.

Demetrius broke the kiss, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “Oh, shush it.” But Lizzie couldn't help but giggle afterward, returning to the tea party as if nothing happened.

Demetrius Prince tag: @darkfaethedestroyer @dead-ry-walking @chalkadow @eclecticeaglebluebird @mistake34 @dandelion-delusion

[concretejunglefm]

some bestfriend!noah for @1toreyouapart, inspired by this 💕

CW: includes mentions of nipple play/biting, spit for lube, handjob, a little soft dirty talk.

NSFW'ish below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

“Me next!” Noah chimes, leaning in as he watches you delicately pluck your brows, shaping them back into your preferred look.

“Are you going to stay still this time?” You shoot a brief look over your shoulder at him, and he scoffs.

“When am I not still?”

“Uh.” Your jaw drops, a little flabbergasted as you turn to look at him. “All the time? It’s always ‘me next,’ and then I spend ten minutes trying to hold your head still because you’re too much of a wuss.”

“Yeah, well, what do you expect? It hurts!”

“Why ask me to do it, then?”

“Because I gotta look good.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff, rolling your eyes as you glance back at the mirror to finish off the final hairs. “Yeah? For who—your imaginary girlfriend?”

You catch sight of him in the corner of the mirror, mocking you, and the corner of your mouth twitches. It always amuses you when you manage to get under his skin—just enough to make him lose steam in your usual banter and instead resort to childlike antics.

“Come here then.” You beckon him toward you, watching the way he wiggles his brows.

You shake your head with a soft laugh. “If you’re trying to be seductive, it’s not working,” you tease. His face drops into that familiar, offended expression, which only amuses you more. You love teasing him, especially when he gets all pouty.

“Oh, look at you, all pouty.” You reach in to pinch his cheek, and he’s quick to swat your hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, just come on. Make me look pretty.” He runs a large, tattooed hand back through his hair, trying to push it out of the way, then leans his head forward as he shuffles along the bed, inching closer to you.

You let out a deep breath. “Well, now I can’t perform miracles.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, but you catch the way he peeks out from one of his now-closed eyes, the corner of his mouth quirking into a teasing smirk.

Gripping his chin, you attempt to hold him in place, lifting the pair of tweezers to his brows, but before you can even get close, he quickly pulls back.

“Noah,” you murmur softly, though there’s a hint of warning in your tone—he’s already testing your patience.

“Sorry, I wasn’t ready.” He drops his shoulders, trying to relax the tension in his body before bracing himself again, eyes screwing shut.

For a brief moment, you just watch him. He seems either genuinely pained or convinced you’re about to hurt him, but then your eyes flicker to his lips—you notice how he wets them in anticipation, then nervously nibbles at his lower lip.

Moving your hand, you run your fingers back through his hair, gently pushing it away while subtly anchoring him in place. You shift slightly, moving closer—almost climbing into his lap—and, as if in sync, like he senses your nearness, his hands rise to settle at your waist to steady you.

You murmur a soft, “Thanks,” and his hands squeeze your waist in silent acknowledgment, a gesture that stirs a low, bubbling heat in your belly.

Being this close to him always has a way of getting under your skin, and though you both manage to maintain the illusion of control, you flirt with the line between friendship and something more far too often.

You manage to pluck the first hair before he tries to pull away, letting out a loud “Ow!”—and just like that, the spell you’d been under seconds ago is shattered.

“God, you big baby.” You roll your eyes and try to pull him back into place, but he leans away slightly.

“It hurt! You need to be gentler,” he whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes again.

“It’s not my fault your hair is hard to pull out.” That makes you laugh, and you almost feel bad for finding his pain funny. You remember the first time you started plucking your own brows and how much you used to complain, but at least years of experience had built up some tolerance.

You try again, but he moves once more.

“If you keep moving, I swear I’m going to stick your head down on my lap.”

And just like that, he shifts again. You release his hair from your grip with an exasperated sigh before shuffling further back on the bed.

“Okay, lay back. Head here.” You gesture to your lap and wait for him to follow instructions. Noah obliges, tucking his head against your thighs and looking up at you with a cheeky grin.

“You think I’ll behave now?”

“You’d better.” You try to hold his head in place as you lean forward slightly—only to feel him move again.

“If I pop my tit in your mouth, will it stop you from moving and whining?”

It’s a joke—a crude one, the kind you’re no stranger to making. The two of you are always flirting along that line, but something about this one pushes it over completely, especially the moment he says, “Yes.”

His eyes hold a challenge, a cheeky grin etched across his face and beneath it, an unmissable heat.

You should scoff. Should give him some “in your dreams” kind of response, but instead, you actually go through with it.

You tug down the tank top you’re wearing, your breast slipping free from the fabric, and with his mouth already open, tongue peeking out expectantly, you slide your other hand beneath his head and guide him up.

For a brief moment, time stretches—like a game of chicken—until you feel it: the warm press of his tongue against you.

You gasp as it circles your nipple, feeling it harden under his gentle caress. Your eyes flutter closed, lost in the electricity blooming through your body the moment his mouth closes around you, a soft, satisfied hum vibrating against your skin. Your fingers thread through his hair, encouraging him gently, and you feel a moan rise in your throat as he tests the waters—his teeth grazing, just barely, against the sensitive bud.

When your eyes open, you glance down at him. His eyes are half-lidded, barely peering up at you from beneath his long lashes.

“Maybe now you’ll be good for me,” you whisper, bringing the tweezers back to his brows.

You pluck one—clean, quick—and feel his tongue flick gently against your nipple in response, followed by a soft hum that vibrates through your breast.

You go again, drawing another hair, and he lets out a low sound, his mouth tightening just slightly around you. It’s the third one that gets him—a more sensitive spot—and the moment you tug it free, he bites down, not hard, but enough to make you jolt.

Your breath catches. A soft gasp leaves your lips as his teeth graze your nipple, a wicked little punishment wrapped in pleasure.

“You brat,” you murmur, trying not to smile as you steady your hand again, but he just smirks against you, clearly unrepentant, and gives your nipple another teasing nip the next time you pluck a particularly stubborn hair.

The push and pull between you is palpable now, pain and pleasure trading hands, soft and sharp, teasing and intimate.

When you glance down briefly, you can’t help but notice the way a bulge has formed at the front of his shorts, the fabric strained tight around it. Heat blooms low in your belly at the sudden urge to reach down and offer him a little relief, especially now, when he’s finally being good and obedient for you.

Your eyes flick between his face, so focused, his mouth and tongue working diligently at your nipple—soothing the previous pain inflicted by his nip—and the bulge beneath him as you slowly reach down.

Your fingers tease along his bare thigh when you reach it, skimming just beneath the hem of his shorts and the way they ride up so high. You’ve teased him before about wearing them—called them his slutty shorts, his “fuck-me” shorts—and now, all you can really think about is pulling him out of them to do exactly that.

He doesn’t stop or pull away when your fingers start to tease higher, brushing along the seam and feeling the outline of him, the thick, hard length of him pressed tight against the fabric. Instead, he lets out another hum, something that sounds like approval, and then you feel the brush of his teeth again, making you gasp, a moan tumbling from your lips.

You take that as his sign to hurry up, and under any other circumstances, you might have teased him for it, made him earn it, but this time, you follow his silent request.

You push the waistband of his shorts down, and he lifts his hips to help, letting you tug both his shorts and boxers down in one smooth motion. You watch as his cock springs free. It’s bigger than you could’ve imagined, and you’ve imagined it a lot. You’ve felt it enough, pressed up against your back when you’ve shared a bed, caught glimpses of the outline when he wore something too tight in the privacy of your home, but nothing prepared you for the sight of it now, and you swear your mouth waters.

You shake your head, trying to pull your focus back as your hand wraps around him, slowly stroking up the length to the tip. You squeeze gently, watching as a trickle of precum slips from the head and rolls down along the shaft. It’s a pretty sight—almost too pretty—and you feel the vein beneath your touch, the way it throbs with every slow, deliberate stroke. You draw it out on purpose, savoring the way he groans against your breast, low and muffled, sending vibrations straight through you.

“Is this what you wanted?” you purr down at him, your voice laced with lust.

His eyes flutter open, gazing up at you with a wanton need—the kind that goes straight to your core and makes your thighs squeeze together, only adding to the ache already building between them.

“Of course it was,” you murmur under your breath. “And you weren’t ever lying about those mouth skills.”

Another moan slips from you as he continues to focus on your nipple, the teasing nip of his teeth sending a direct jolt to your cunt, making you throb and clench around nothing.

“Fuck,” you hiss, your grip tightening around his cock.

You pull your hand back, lifting it to your mouth and spitting into your palm before bringing it back down, rubbing your saliva across the tip, then down along the shaft. His precum mixes with it easily, turning slick beneath your touch as you begin to stroke him, slow and steady, deliberately teasing, working him with the same care he’s giving to you.

You don’t catch the way his eyes widen at the sight of you spitting into your hand, only feel the way he squirms in your lap as you stroke him, his hips bucking involuntarily. He’s quick to try and match your pace, chasing the sensation of your hand wrapped around him—something he’d never admit to thinking about, but has fantasized over more times than he can count.

It feels unreal, almost like a dream. Like he’s imagining this whole scene.

And yet, the line you’ve always tiptoed along—flirting, teasing, testing—it’s been crossed. Even if only slightly, it’s enough to change everything.

It’s Noah who reaches for your top, tugging it down enough to expose your other breast. His hand cups it firmly, kneading it, his thumb brushing over your already hardened nipple before he catches it between his thumb and forefinger—twisting, pinching just enough to make your back arch.

You gasp, a sound that only makes your grip around him tighten as your hand begins to move faster, spurred on by the way he’s pushing you right to the edge. The two of you fall into a rhythm—taunting, toying, testing—each reaction only encouraging the other further.

He can feel it coming, the white-hot coil tightening low in his stomach, the edges of his vision starting to blur. He wants to tell you, to warn you somehow, but he can’t bring himself to let go of your nipple, not with your fingers carding through his hair, massaging his scalp. Not when your voice is a soft, breathy coo of encouragement and praise, coaxing him closer, and then he’s there, his release crashing through him in waves as hot ropes spill from the tip, coating his stomach—where he’d had the foresight to tug his hoodie up—and your hand.

He doesn’t care about the mess, not when he’s a trembling wreck beneath you, your hand refusing to stop, pushing him through the full length of his climax. His hips buck wildly, overstimulated, as you milk him for every last drop until there’s nothing left—just his shallow breath and the aftershocks rippling through his body.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens  @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood @kenjipepsi1 @birdie-in-arcadia @blackcherrywhiskey @saythatuwill @concretenoah @death-ofpeace-ofmind @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @limerinseme @lilgarbitch @pipidoll @heyyoplayer @iconic-taurus @flowery-mess @jesuisunchaton @bloody-spades @bluestdai @respectfulrebel

[artytaeh]

Which Hogwarts house do you think the boys would prefer for a girlfriend?

great question! i'm not sure about this one, but i'll leave my first thoughts here. totally up for debate, lmk what you think about this!

MATTHEO doesn't really care for houses; unlike some of his friends, he doesn't have a special vendetta for other houses. the rivalry is with everyone given that he's a quidditch player, and every team has something that fucking pisses him off during the matches he participates in. dating a slytherin would be easier, given that sneaking in and out each other's bedrooms doesn't require a twenty minute walk; only climbing down a staircase and that's it. i can see him with a gryffindor too, probably because there'd be some petty rivalry from her side that promises some kind of argument that would get him horny. hufflepuff could be an option too; mattheo folds for sweet bambi eyes and someone so opposite to him (in a way that he's rough and loud, with someone who softens his edges). the least probable house would be ravenclaw; mattheo hates smartass people.

THEODORE, opposite to his best friend, would probably keep an eye on ravenclaw. the sorting hat considered putting theo on the house of ravens, and that used to be his mother's house too. slytherins would be a great option too, probably because it's easier to get theodore talking to them—not out of superiority, but because he's on the introverted side and it's easier to talk to theo when you share the same common room, same classes, same places. wouldn't mind hufflepuff is it's someone who grows on him, although it'd take a lot of interaction time—which would have to be the influence of some of his close friends to have a hufflepuff friend they bring along. theo is petty with gryffindors and thinks that everyone is insufferable like granger, has main character syndrome like harry and is stupid like weasley.

LORENZO, on the other hand, has even less prejudice against other houses. every house has a type of girl that his big, big heart finds some charm in. probably wouldn't date slytherin, because he'd venture in the uncharted territories of ravenclaw, hufflepuff and gryffindor. i can see lorenzo falling for the typical sweet being of hufflepuff, maybe chase a ravenclaw who doesn't have time for enzo and sparks a competitive streak. gryffindor might happen with girls who watch quidditch matches and pay attention to him, slytherin's keeper, preventing each extra goal. slytherin girls are more like friends and kinship that he wouldn't want to ruin—he sees them everyday.

DRACO is an obvious answer; only slytherin is the worthy house, superior in every sense. falling in love and perceiving someone as equal are different things, though; draco thinks that the only girl who could deserve him is a pureblood daughter that landed on slytherin. his opinion on other houses isn't nice either, which is a barrier that prevents someone who isn't a slytherin to sympathize with draco, unless you have a lot of patience. ravenclaw is bland in his eyes, hufflepuff are weak in his perception, gryffindor is out of question. but the way to his heart is a mystery that no matter what draco's expectations are, might reveal an unknown path he doesn't expect.

BLAISE would fuck with huffepuffs and gryffindors, honestly. he thinks that the whole bravery and daring speech in gryffindor girls is kinda hot, not to mention his interest with the opposites attract (brief) highschool romance; someone who keeps him on his toes. blaise admires hufflepuffs for their patience and loyalty, which he values immensely. patience is an admirable trait and loyalty is a higher value that only great people have. doesn't have an opinion with ravenclaw, would be into a slytherin girl because like draco, perceives them as equals—as long as they don't act too childishly petty or jealous for his tastes.

[sunandflame]

NSFW Alphabet - Rob Lucci

Warnings: nsfw

Word Count: 1184

Pairing: Rob Lucci x Reader

crossposted on AO3

A = Aftercare Afterward, he’s not one for soft words or coddling. His aftercare is more about maintaining his presence—his weight beside you, the feeling of his hand on your skin. He’ll run a finger over the marks he’s left, as if to remind you that you’re his. He might clean you up, but it's efficient, calculated. He checks you, makes sure you’re taken care of, but his focus never wavers. If you need something more, he'll provide it—silent, controlled, but always there.

B = Body Part (favourite) Your neck. It’s instinctual—primal. The scent, the softness, the sound of your pulse under his tongue... it awakens something in him that he doesn’t fully understand, nor tries to. He lingers there more than anywhere else: breathing you in, nipping, teasing, pressing his lips against the artery just to feel the thrum beneath. When he’s buried inside you, you can feel him lean in closer, licking or mouthing at the spot just to hear your breathing hitch. And when he feels vulnerable—rare, but real—he hides his face in the crook of your neck, like a beast curling into its den. It’s the place he claims first and most often. Not for show. For instinct.

C = Cum Possessive. He doesn’t care where—on your stomach, chest, or dripping out of you—but you’ll be marked. Inside is his preference. He likes seeing the proof of himself in you.

D = Dirty Talk Low, growling filth. He doesn’t speak often, but when he does? It's devastating. “Say my name,” “Look at me when I ruin you,” or even just a commanding “Now.”

E = Experience Very experienced. He’s had partners—usually casual, sometimes transactional—but few ever get past the physical. If you do, that’s a rare privilege.

F = Favorite Position He enjoys you beneath him in the mating press, your legs pinned, his weight pressing down on you, eyes locked as he claims you completely. He likes seeing the way your face twists with every movement, his hand either on your neck or your hip, controlling the pace. But just as often, he prefers you on all fours—from behind. The view of you like that drives him wild, where he can hold you in place, control every thrust, every gasp. It’s about the power he has over you, the unspoken claim that only deepens with every moment.

G = Goofy Not at all. Lucci is intense and focused. If you laugh, he’ll raise a brow and smirk faintly, but only to throw you off before flipping you over.

H = Hair Groomed. Chest hair is non-existent. Below the belt, he trims but doesn’t shave. He doesn’t care for vanity—function over form.

I = Intimacy Rare, but when it appears, it’s wordless. A hand to the small of your back, a steady gaze as he finishes inside you, the way he lets his guard down just enough to hold you after.

J = Jack-Off He does, but not often—he has a soldier’s discipline. If he’s thinking of you, though, it’s intense and quiet, a hand over his mouth, jaw clenched.

K = Kinks Control. Every part of him is rooted in dominance—he doesn’t just want to fuck you, he wants to own you. D/s dynamics are at his core, and he thrives when you're obedient because you want to be.

Breeding kink. It’s biological, raw. The idea of filling you, knotting you to him with something that lasts—leaves him breathless in ways he won’t say aloud. Seeing you fucked full and trembling? It satisfies something ancient.

Predator/prey play. He loves the chase—your startled gasp, the way you run, knowing you want to be caught. It brings out his inner beast, makes the eventual capture all the more intoxicating.

Obsessive protector vibes. Not a kink in the usual sense, but once you're his, he watches everything: who you talk to, what you wear, even the shift in your tone when someone else says your name. You may never catch him saying it outright, but the possessiveness coils around your spine like smoke. And if you play with that—test the limits, tease the line? That’s when the beast bares its teeth, and you’re in for it.

L = Location Prefers private places—hotel rooms, his quarters, somewhere he can fully own you. But if he gets impatient? Somewhere dark and semi-public, where he can muffle your sounds.

M = Motivation Control, lust, and tension. He gets turned on by seeing your obedience or how easily you fall apart under him. The more composed you usually are, the more he craves your ruin.

N = No He’s not into degrading humiliation (unless you ask for it), sharing, or anything too chaotic. Lucci needs control—not mess.

O = Oral (Receiving/Giving) Receiving: He’s silent, watching you like prey. No praise—just the weight of his hand on your head, the quiet threat of him holding you there. He finishes without warning. It’s not affection. It’s a claim.

Giving: He doesn’t do it to be kind. He does it because he’s starving. Buries himself between your thighs like a beast at a kill, obsessed with your taste, your scent, the way your body jerks. If you beg him to stop, he doesn’t—not until the trembling starts. And if his Zoan tongue comes into play? You won’t be speaking when he’s done. It’s not just about making you come. It’s about satisfying the beast—and that takes time.

P = Pace Calculated. He starts slow to torment you, but when he breaks, it’s punishing—deep, hard thrusts that make you forget everything but him.

Q = Quickies Yes, especially when he’s on a mission. He’ll pull you aside, lift you like you weigh nothing, and take what he needs. Fast, filthy, and dominant.

R = Risk Measured risk turns him on. Semi-public, silent-in-a-meeting-room type encounters, or letting you tease him in a dangerous setting… he gets off on restraint.

S = Stamina Inhuman. He can go for multiple rounds, barely winded. His Zoan abilities give him a beast’s endurance—and appetite.

T = Toys He prefers using his hands and body, but if he does use toys, they’re precision tools—like remote-controlled vibrators or restraints. You will be his experiment.

U = Unfair Cruelly. Teases you to tears and won’t let you come until he decides. He enjoys making you beg, especially if you’re normally independent or mouthy.

V = Volume Quiet. He growls, grunts, whispers sharp orders. The occasional deep moan if you do something unexpected that shatters his control.

W = Wild Card In Zoan form, his instincts intensify. He tries to stay restrained, but if he lets go? Expect dominance, biting, and total physical overwhelm. It's not often—but unforgettable.

X = X-Ray Thick, veined, and long—more than average. He knows how to use it. And he will use it to stretch you just to see your reaction.

Y = Yearning Silently intense. He won’t voice it, but if he wants you, you’ll feel it in every lingering stare, every gloved touch, every unreadable silence in a locked room.

Z = Zzz (Sleep) Sleeps light, usually facing the door. But if you’ve just spent the night together? He’ll allow you to sleep on his chest. Just don’t expect cuddles every time.

My babygurl @auryborealis reminded me (luckily!) that today is Rob Lucci's birthday! So Happy Birthday my evil hot pigeon boy!

[kneecapsbelong2me]

Not A Boy (still a threat)

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x sibling!Reader, Kate Bishop x Maximoff!Reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: Wanda catches you with Kate. Protective big sister mode activated.

Word Count: ~700

Content Warnings: perceived homophobia (but not actual homophobia)

A/N: Happy pride! No pronouns are used for reader, but reader comes out to Wanda as sapphic.

Translation: злато = gold

———————————————————————

Wanda is extremely protective of you, since you’re the youngest Maximoff sibling.

You’ve never even expressed romantic interest in anyone to her, but she still threatens to go after any hypothetical boy who breaks your heart.

So, obviously, you don’t tell your big sister that you have a girlfriend.

Especially not that said girlfriend is your fellow Avenger, Kate Bishop.

You and Kate have been doing a good job hiding your relationship from her for the past eight months.

Wanda will find out eventually, but hopefully not until a wedding invitation arrives for her in the mail.

It’s a lot of sneaking around and going behind her back, but it’s better than Wanda eviscerating Kate.

Kate’s in your room one day, door locked. You aren’t doing anything particularly scandalous, cuddling in bed and exchanging the occasional kiss. Your legs are intertwined, and you’ve never felt safer than in her arms. Kate kisses your nose and you giggle.

“Злато, are you in there?”

Immediately you and Kate go silent. Wanda waits for a moment before calling out again.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Silently, you and Kate agree to pretend you aren’t here.

“I know you’re in here, злато.”

Uh oh, so much for that plan.

“Just open the door. I know you’re hiding that boy of yours in there.”

“There are no boys in here, Wands. Cross my heart.”

She growls. “That’s it. I’m coming in.”

She overrides your lock, and you curse yourself for not putting your usual privacy measures in place. Kate scrambles away from you in panic, but Wanda is already inside.

“Where is h—Kate?!”

“Uh, hey, Wanda.” Kate waves awkwardly. “I’m gonna go.” She looks at you and you nod. “Great! Bye!”

Wanda glares at Kate as she flees, but doesn’t stop her. She turns her glare to you.

You look anywhere but at Wanda and shrug. “Hey, Kate’s not a boy.”

“How long have you been lying to me?”

“Lying?” you’re offended. “I haven’t been lying to you, Wanda,” you scoff.

“So what? You’ve just been seeing that girl behind my back?”

The way she says it, the way she refuses to even say Kate’s name, makes your blood curdle.

“You would’ve preferred it if I had been hooking up with some random boy.” You say it as a statement, not a question

“Over Kate? Probably.” She crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow like this is the obvious answer.

“Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be happy in sad, heterosexual relationships with toasters who have the same stone powers as us.”

“Is that what you think this is about?” Wanda softens suddenly. “You think I’m angry because you’re dating a girl?”

You’re still bristling, “what am I supposed to think?”

“That Kate is reckless and impulsive, and if you’re interested in girls there are many safer options.”

“I love her, Wanda. She’s soft and sweet, and she cares so deeply. And maybe she’s reckless, but you can’t pretend you weren’t the same way when you first joined the team.”

Hearing your impassioned speech, Wanda softens further, running a hand over your upper arm. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, злота.”

“I know the risks.” Sighing, you lean into your sister’s touch. “And she’s not the only one who could die. I’m terrified of losing you too, Wanda.”

You can see the fight leave Wanda’s body at your words. She wraps her arms around you. “I’m sorry for reacting so harshly. If Kate makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”

“Even though she’s a girl and an Avenger?” Your voice is muffled by her body. Wanda chuckles,

“Of course it’s okay that she’s a girl. It’s the Avenger part that worries me.”

You hug her back, pulling her close to you. A weight has been lifted off your chest. It feels better now that Wanda knows.

“I will be having a talk with Kate,” Wanda lets you know as a courtesy, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You bury your head further into her and groan. You’ll never be able to escape your sister’s protective instincts.

You wouldn’t have her any other way.

[bewitched-hours]

HIIII!!! CAN WE GET A... two time x mischievous and playful scammer reader!? maybe reader uses that personality of theirs to hide the fact they smoke or smth idk heehee ummmmm DIES EXPLODES

(little did you know.. I ate all your writing because of how good it is!)

You have no idea how excited I got to read this ask-

I don't have my laptop at the ready because I'm at school so I can't use my silly little faces but I can improvise on my phone lol ^^'

Also, I had no idea what you meant exactly with smoke so I just went with the normal kind (Don't smoke kids, it's not good for you either way)

P.S: I'm actually so happy seeing people enjoy my writing, I sometimes feel like crying from joy TwT

Reader's pronouns will be She/Her because we support women's wrongs here- /j

You were a scammer, so much was known about you.

Wether it was swindling kids or the elderly, failure was a circumstance you knew little about.

Studying your targets and learning to recognize reactions and behaviours like it was second nature to you.

So it was no surprise when you thought you'd ended up in hell. Luckily it wasn't though.

Although, most still called it that, you included. Or 'Purgatory', if you felt like it or said 'Hell' a few too many times. It loses its kick after a while...

You weren't too social with the other survivors. Maybe a few talks with Chance or 007 but you generally weren't seen as reliable or useful, due to your abilities linking back to your scammy tactics.

But then there was Two Time. The cultist gave you slight heart attacks more times than you could count already. You thought you were good at being sneaky but they made their appearances feel like teleportation.

And somehow... you always laughed afterwards.

Not an awkward one. A genuine, lighthearted laugh.

It confused the cultist a bit, only ever having been treated as more of a distraction by the others.

But you? You treated them like a friend, although it was first to snake your way to get their trust. They were still cautious about not being tricked by you, although they didn't show it.

And in the meantime, you became more acquainted and used to them. Hell, you'd even go as far as to call them an actual, sincere friend.

They weren't exactly against it, but it certainly didn't feel right to them. Was your genuine attitude towards them getting them to feel safe around you? Or maybe they were still distrustful of you. It was hard to tell.

There was love there, they could see that, but it felt clouded by possibilities and worry.

Many times had they tried to convert you, to make you quit scamming and instead worship the Spawn. But you always found a way to escape the conversation or shut them down.

Surprisingly enough, you did it in a gentle way. Different from when you'd decline the wants of your other teammates.

With the others you were straightforward and not afraid to speak your mind.

But when it was Two Time?

You couldn't help but feel a pit in your stomach whenever you were even mean to them. Did they really make you feel soft? Surely not... It couldn't be...

Even during rounds, you didn't usually feel like sticking to the others, preferring to just get the generators done as soon as possible.

You didn't need a plan. You just needed to be fast. And they got used to just letting you do your own thing. You were good at evading the killer anyways.

But for a couple months now, you'd find Two Time lurking nearby or straight up following you like they wanted to team up. Sometimes you'd ask and they'd play it off as a coincidence, other times they'd act as though you two could stick together better because you were both outsiders in a way. It made sense, actually...

But the reality? Two Time found themself fascinated by you, maybe even infatuated.

They even got more persistent with you over time, trying to use your own tricks against you to have you join them, claiming that it was the Spawn's will.

You didn't believe it... At first.

But then there were more 'happy coincidences' than should be possible in such a short time.

You'd miraculously escape the killer when they seemed too close for comfort, find your way to one of Builderman's sentries or dispensers when you needed them, and generators felt faster despite you always being alone. At least so you thought.

Even outside of rounds.

You'd find your favourite snacks in the fridge when you had a craving even though no one claimed to know where it came from, you always had a cup of hot chocolate waiting for you when you returned from a round or died, sometimes you even woke up to find boxes of period pads at your door when you complained about running out.

You'd usually assume one of the others might've taken pity on you and took the effort to help you out anonymously so you didn't really mention that last one to anyone. You were just glad to not be completely left to suffer.

But one thing you kept hidden? You were a smoker. Not for fun or some thrill, you just needed to calm down sometimes. But knowing your teammates, they'd be annoying about it. You would usually wait for everyone to be gone or sneak away from the group for a small cigarette but you usually snuck back before anyone could notice you were gone.

Except Two Time.

They often wondered where you'd go but they wanted to let you have time to breathe.

Not this time though.

Everyone was celebrating winning another round and it was getting too loud for you again. So, you excused yourself from talking with(to) Two Time and slipped out to get behind the cabin.

You were almost desperately trying to calm yourself down, even thinking about grabbing another cigarette from your pockets and staying out longer.

But Two Time got a little too curious this time and decided to find you.

"The Spawn told me you were here." They spoke so calmly, watching you nearly jump before chuckling to yourself.

You shrugged it off, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and holding it between two fingers as you tried to cover for your nervous behaviour.

"Still sneaking up on me without intending to, Timey?" You asked, doing your best to keep still.

But Two Time's expression said it all already. They could see right through you. Maybe you were letting yourself go softer than you intended to...

Without a warning though, the cultist had taken hold of your other wrist, pulling it out of your pocket to reveal you had been grabbing another cigarette already.

Their current stare creeped you out a bit, but you knew there was concern hidden in those eyes.

They didn't leave much room for questions as they put the back of your hand against their mouth and placed a gentle kiss upon it, your face flushed red as you stared at them in surprise. It even made you drop the extra cigarette.

"The Spawn needs you healthy..." Was all they said and for once, you contemplated their words. Call it being blinded by love or whatnot. "I know what you mean but it isn't that simple..." You sighed.

"I know... But we can work on it together..." Wait wait wait, are they saying what you thought they said.

"Let the Spawn lead us both... I can't lose you... Not permanently..." Okay... They were...

"Two Time-"

"Darling please..." Okay, you were officially red as a tomato. But you didn't know what to say. Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly let the other cigarette fall from your fingers and stomped it out. All while letting Two Time hold you like you could fade away at any point. Like a porcelain doll.

"I'll... I'll try..." You muttered meekly, getting closer to hold the cultist with your now free hand.

The way they opened their eyes to look at you was expecting. Like they were asking a question. And you knew exactly what that question was as you let your shoulders fall with an embarrassed little groan.

"I'll... Join you as well..." You couldn't believe your own words but seeing that smile of genuine affection and care, your heart couldn't help but falter. "Just for you, Timey..."

You could've sworn you saw their tail wagging behind them. It was adorable beyond words. And you fell right into their show.

That night, Two Time had insisted you both sleep in their cabin and showed you how to properly worship and serve the Spawn, even rewarding you with praise and innocent kisses when you were done.

You still couldn't believe you were gonna try to quit smoking over a cultist and the Spawn of all things...

Subsequently, I arrived back home at the time I finished writing this but I can't save it without posting so...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[loveroffemmes]

jackie taylor nsfw alphabet pls pretty girl- 🤠

Jackie Taylor NSFT Headcanons/Alphabet

warning: sexual, pretty subby jackie, some light cnc (sleep)

a/n: i think i wanna do these for the rest of the yj too if y’all wanna read that (i also think that the other yj would be way freakier than my girl jackie LOL). also, i absolutely adore the pet name, anon!! <33

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Jackie is unbelievably cuddly afterwards, she loves having your arms wrapped around her and she always flings an arm and leg over you. Literally taking up the most space on the bed as possible. She’s also so whiney and sensitive, if your thigh or hand accidentally brushes on her, she’s whimpering in a second. She also makes sure to tell you how good of a job you did afterwards and always follows it with a, “You’re so hot.” 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jackie loves arms. She loves leaving bite marks and lipstick stains all along her lover’s arms. She likes a nice set of legs too and even though she won’t admit it, it’s hard for her to pry her eyes off of your cleavage. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Jackie loves tasting herself. Her favorite thing is when you make her suck the juices off of your fingers. She also loves tasting you; she was in absolute shock the first time she made you finish and tasted you, remarking for days later how sweet you tasted. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Jackie loves getting off to your voice. She loves when you call her late at night to talk and your voice is all raspy and sleepy. She bites down on something and listens to you ramble as she gets off. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Jackie is somewhat experienced. She definitely has some things she has to figure out, especially when it comes to women. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Missionary or cowgirl. Missionary, because she likes being able to wrap her arms around your neck and pull you flush against her body. Cowgirl, because she likes the feeling of rolling her hips on the strap-on and she loves putting on a show for you. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Jackie’s pretty serious, but she’s usually pretty giggly before and after. If she notices you aren’t as relaxed as she’d like, she makes some cutesy pillow talk. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I would say Jackie’s usually clean shaven or trimmed. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Jackie is loving, she’s nonstop telling you how pretty you are and how much she loves you. Her heart is unbelievably full from getting to do anything intimate with you and it shows. When it’s a chill night in; she takes her time to undress you, to really take in all of you. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Jackie uses her pillow most of the time. She loves humping it to get off — even better if she listens to you instruct her or talk to her while she humps it. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise, Jackie gets wet at simply being called pretty. She also loves sometimes being a little rougher and getting her hair pulled or being lightly choked. She also likes spanking, but that’s something that she would not admit until way later into a relationship. She also loves being used in her sleepy, waking up and being fucked is a need for her.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Jackie’s pretty simple, she prefers a comfy bed, but she can’t help but also enjoy the public-ness of a car or in a random closet/room at a party. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Jackie wishes she wasn’t as easy as she was, but anything you do will get her going at least a little bit. What really does it for her is possessive touches; she loves when your hands linger on her hips or her waist or her ass. She also loves seeing your clothes ride up just a little bit — instantly wet.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Jackie wouldn’t really be interested in hitting her partners in bed. It would make her feel too guilty. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Jackie prefers receiving, but she does do both. She’s not as good at giving, but she becomes so determined that she improves over time. She loves when you pull on her hair while she goes down on you. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Jackie is pretty fast, but tries to be as gentle as possible. She gets incredibly eager to either get you or herself off and can’t help but pick up the pace, but she always makes sure not to hurt you. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Jackie loves the idea of quickies. She loves a quick locker room fuck, IN THEORY, but then she stumbles out on the field and it’s like her legs barely work and that’s how most of her quickies go. However, a quickie at a party is the exception to this rule and she will pull you into a random room at every. single. party. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Jackie does like the occasional risk, but nothing too crazy since she gets way too loud and she does have a reputation to uphold. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Jackie wishes she could go even more, but the reality is that she usually taps out after two rounds. She likes getting off at least more than once. Jackie typically lasts a normal amount of time the first round, but she finishes way too quick if there’s a second or third round. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Jackie has a pink strap-on. She usually likes you to use them on her rather than her using them. She also owns a rabbit vibrator (get it). She prefers using you to get off rather than a toy though. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Jackie’s usually way too needy to tease you, but when she felt like it, she would drag it on for as long as she possibly could. She loved to see you begging to touch her. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Jackie is vocal. She whimpers, she whines, and she gets so unbelievably loud when she comes. She loves saying your name a million times over. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Jackie loves sleepy sex. She loves when she’s all tired and you eat her out. She also is a big fan of restraints, loving the feeling of being used. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

We all know what’s inside someone’s pants. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Jackie’s sex drive is insanely high; one kiss and she’s squeezing her thighs together. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jackie knocks out in an instant. She’ll sleepily mumble something about how pretty you are and then she’s usually lightly snoring (which she denies that she does). Her limbs are all over you, hogging your space and blankets.  

Masterlist

[nebrasska-alasska]

hi!! ive been enjoying your work for awhile now, and have two questions bt “From the Shadows of the Deep”

First, is Tails’ vitality thing going to play a significant role in the plot?

And second, is Sonic like, gonna fall for the Kraken? Romantically? Or are they just going to form a friendship? I’m sorry if this is a weird question and if the answer is obvious, lol. It is a sonadow fic afterall. I am just caught off guard since Sonic doesn’t know the Kraken is Shadow and sees it as just a sentient oversized octopus. Wouldn’t he js b falling inlove with an animal? (Not meant to be rude, just curious bt what u think <3)

Hello there! First of all, yes, Tails' vitality reader will play a role in the fic, but will probably be a lot more minor than people are expcting!

And all right, now let's get into the meat of this ask!

Usually, I don't sit down and clarify or explain what's going on in my fics because I would prefer for my writing to do the talking. HOWEVER, the idea of Sonic falling in love with the Kraken has been brought up enough that I will try to elaborate a bit on what's going to go on over the next few chapters, just so that you (and anyone else reading this) can decide if they want to continue with this fic or not. So conceptual spoilers ahead, read at your own risk!

-

Sonic's feelings for the Kraken's are going to be very convoluted, and while he won't technically harbor explicit romantic feelings towards the Kraken, he is going to be very confused about what exactly it IS that he is feeling towards him. There's going to be a lot of reflection as he kind of grapples with the morality with their growing closeness and intimate moments, and this is all needs to happen in order for a very specific scene to occur. The scene that the entire fic revolves around.

Because the thing is, he is in love with Shadow the Hedgehog, and what that means is that he is going to fall in love with Shadow no matter what form he takes, whether he knows it's Shadow or not. That's kind of the poetry I'm going for with this whole thing: it doesn't matter if Shadow is a monster or a hedgehog, or if Sonic knows it's him, he loves him no matter who or what he is. So this sense of familiarity and attraction he feels towards the Kraken is going to confuse him, because even though he knows that it's weird and wrong, there is still something that draws him in, because that "something" is the fact that the Kraken and Shadow are one and the same.

Long story short, we only have a few chapters of this complicated Sonic/Kraken thing. I just updated the tags to include "mild interspecies romance" because I am surprised that I didn't do that from the start, so hopefully this can prepare future readers better for the contents of the fic. The entire final act (aka last six chapters of the story) is going to be Sonic and Shadow, and that is when the "real" romance begins, though technically it is starting with his interactions with the Kraken in the second act we are in right now.

So yeah, that was a long one! Hopefully it answered your main question? Idk you're not the only person who has brought this up, so that's kind of why I went so in-depth. And I'm really hoping that these next chapters can execute this vision I have, because as I've mentioned elsewhere, this is kind of the meat of the story we're in right now. Anyways, thanks for asking!

[lycanlupins]

NSFW Alphabet - John Walker

Warnings: NSFW content ahead as always, we don’t kink shame here ♥️

This man has taken over my brain, it’s just Bob and John 24/7 and I had to get this out for him because I have a hard time doing NSFW for Bob rn 😭

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Good with aftercare, probably cleans you up and runs you a hot bath to make sure you're comfy and cozy afterwards.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite on you is your thighs. He loves a good thigh, thick and plump. He loves when they squeeze around his head or waist depending on what position you guys are in.

On himself he loves his baby blues. He gets anything he wants when he looks at you with 'em, and when he's mad they get the point across that you need punishing.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He likes cum marking. That man wants everyone to know that you're his and if that means cumming in you or on you he'll obliege.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He keeps a pair of your underwear on his person when he's on missions, especially long ones. When he can get time alone he gets off into them and wipes his cum with them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He has a kid...you tell me.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary or pile driver, its either simple or he needs to get inside of you then and there with no remorse.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He takes sex seriously 99% of the time, sometimes there's room for cute little moments where you both giggle at something that happens but more often than not its serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it trimmed but not fully waxed. His happy trail makes you drool when his shirt gives you a sneak peek.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Depends on the mood and atmosphere. If its at home its very sweet, gentle and romantic but if the two of you are out and about...he's a different breed of man. He's needy, sloppy, rough. He's almost animalstic with want.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

It takes minimum three rounds before he's even breaking a sweat so he tends to give you a show when he knows you don't have a lot of energy in you to go for more than one round.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding

CNC

Daddy Kink

Vouyerism

Praise

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Preferrably at home but he’s not opposed to pulling you aside on a mission or when you’re out with friends.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You breathe in that man’s general vicinity and he’s fully hard and ready to go.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation, he’s not into it when it’s being received.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a certified munch, he likes when you give him head but man…he needs to give you pleasure before he even touches himself.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again, depends on his mood. He can swing either way and he’s good at what he does.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s a fan when he can’t have a full round with you but he’d much rather spend his time watching you come undone.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s a risk taker at heart. No birth control? Eh, he knows what he’s getting into. People will hear? Not the first time they’d hear you screaming for him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Like mentioned earlier, he can go minimum of 3 rounds before his body even reacts to exhaustion.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any himself but he isn’t opposed to using them in bed. Though he may get a little self conscious that he isn’t enough for you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s a big tease when he has the time. He likes to tell you about all the dirty things he thinks about doing to you, or sneaking up behind you and kissing the back of your neck before walking away.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not too loud but he loves to talk and grunt. “Let daddy make you feel good.” “That’s it my pretty baby.” “C’mere doll, let me see you.” He’s a yapper. Don’t let that fool you though, you take control and that man is whining, begging for release.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s a switch but he’d never admit it, you just find out one day when you grab his throat while riding him and he immediately softens his demeanor and whines.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6 in. soft, light beige with a pink tip. 8-9 hard, angry vein that goes up the underside, tip turns slightly more red. Thick as all hell.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

THE YEARN THIS MAN HAS FOR YOU IS CRAZED. He could be in your presence, you in nothing but days old pjs, messy hair and probably half asleep and that man would find you the sexiest human alive. His sex drive is at 100 all the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t fall asleep fast at all, in fact he’s usually wide awake afterwards making sure you’re safe and taken care of.

[fireside-fanfics]

So I have a little Joaquin Torres request :) Joaquin bumps into an old highschool classmate of his. They weren't friends but always got along pretty well. And both of them crushed on each other hard but never actually told the other. When they bump into each other after all those years, they immediately fall back into their old dynamic. Also do both of them realize that their feelings never really went away, even though they haven't seen each other in so many years

Thank you so much for this request! I absolute loved writing it!

Old Friends, New Wings

I. BEFORE WE KNEW: SENIOR YEAR Where it all quietly began.

Sage pressed her cheek to the cold surface of her locker door, pretending to be deep in thought. Maybe she was contemplating quantum physics or some big life decision about her future. Really, though, she was just waiting for him. 

Joaquin Torres always showed up at exactly 7:48AM like clockwork. Not 7:45. Not 7:50. Backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, curls still slightly damp from his morning shower, a steaming cup of vending machine hot chocolate in hand like it was his personal brand. Sage could’ve sworn that it was as if the hall parted for him upon his arrival every morning. He never looked rushed. Not like everyone else, frantically finishing homework or sprinting to first period. 

He moved through the crowded hallway like he had all the time in the world. He’d nod at the janitor, smile at teachers, and hold the door for someone carrying too many books. He was effortlessly polite, impossibly kind by nature, and maddeningly cute without even trying. And fuck, that was the worst part—because wasn’t the loud, in-your-face kind of cute either. 

No, he had the soft, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it kind of charm. It was the crooked smile, the warm brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when he laughed, the quiet way he paid attention when people talked, like they actually mattered. It was infuriating how one boy could be so incredible that he took up this much space in her mind.

Sage would tell herself she was just observant. That she liked patterns. The only reason she knew his routine was because their lockers happened to be across the hall from each other and she had nothing better to do at 7:45 in the morning. Of course that was it. That’s what she told herself at least.

The truth was, this had become her favorite three minutes of the day. Three minutes of pretending not to look. Three minutes of catching the soft sound of his voice, the way he greeted people by name, the way he’d tap his fingers against his cup like he was drumming out a beat only he could hear. And maybe, just maybe, three minutes of hoping he’d look her way too.

“Hey, Sage,” his voice came just as expected, soft and smooth with a sleepy smile.

Sage turned, cool as ever. When she met his gaze, she swore his eyes made her melt. A small smile tugged at her lips as she tried to fight blush rising on her cheeks. She shut her locker before crossing the short distance across the hall to stand next to him. Sage leaned against the locker beside him.

“Morning, Quino,” she quipped. “Did you finally get that Chem lab done or are you gonna mooch off me again?”

He laughed as he rummaged in his locker. “Mooch is such a strong word. I prefer the term … cross-reference.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling. It was always like this with them: light teasing, shared glances, and this unspoken tension neither of them dared to touch. Maybe it was timing. Or fear. Or that neither of them wanted to ruin a good thing. They weren’t best friends, but they shared a quiet camaraderie since middle school. By pure chance, they always paired up for science labs, shared side conversations during pep rallies, and slid in next to each other on bus rides for field trips. 

Somehow they always seemed to gravitate towards each other. Somehow they always found each other at weekend parties where they’d talk for hours while everyone else enjoyed the party. Somehow they’d stumble into each other at the same cafes. It was all coincidence, luck, chance. And every time Joaquin caught her looking at him just a little too long, she’d flash a grin and play it off. And every time she walked past him in the hallway, he’d turn his head, just in case she smiled first. 

Neither of them ever did anything about it. Then, graduation came and they were gone…

II. NOW: PRESENT DAY, WASHINGTON D.C. Everything and nothing has changed.

Recent weeks were extremely tough for Joaquin as he hopped from mission to mission with little time to recover. He had faced some intense moments in the field—high-stakes missions, rogue tech, even alien threats—but nothing had prepared him for the emotional gut punch of seeing her again. She was standing at the edge of a farmer’s market, sunglasses perched in her curls, holding a jar of local honey like it was the most important decision of the day. 

Joaquin was never one to believe in fate, but when he saw her he had to reconsider. There was no way this was random.

“Sage?” he said before he could stop himself.

She startled, shoulders jerking just slightly, the kind of reflex you couldn't control when someone said your name unexpectedly. It was barely noticeable to anyone else, but Joaquin caught it. Of course he did.

“No way. Joaquin Torres?!”

And just like that, he was seventeen again. A grin tugged at his face before he could stop it. She looked exactly the same and yet completely different—older, more confident, but still radiating that same gentle energy that used to drive him crazy in high school. The soft smile still knocked the air out of his lungs in a way nothing else ever had. The sharp wit and kind heart that he day dreamed about. The way she used to twirl her pen in calculus like she was trying to make it fly.

Before he could fully register what was happening, Sage launched herself into his arms, hugging him tight. The strength in her embrace caught him off guard. She’d clearly kept up with her training. He remembered being in awe of her back then—star rugby player, elite swimmer. She’d always been the strongest one in their class, stunning the Army recruiters with how many pull-ups she could crank out during their annual visit.

When she pulled back slightly, her arms still around his weight, Joaquin smiled brightly at her again. She still tilted her head when she was curious. Still smelled like coconut and vanilla. Still made him feel like he was the only person she wanted to talk to, even in a crowded market. Her eyes flicked over him—quick, subtle—but he noticed. It was the kind of glance that said more than words ever could.  Her gaze lingered just a second too long on his chest, his shoulders, the way his jaw had sharpened with age. 

Then, as if suddenly aware of just how close they still were, she blushed. That soft, telltale pink spread across her cheeks, and Joaquin swore it was the same blush he used to catch in the hallway after study hall. Slowly, her arms slipped from around his torso, but her hand didn’t go far. It lingered on his forearm, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric of his sleeve before settling there. Sage gave it a small, familiar squeeze—steady, grounding, like muscle memory. And in that single touch, Joaquin felt twelve years melt away.

“It’s so good to see you, Quino,” Sage started, a quiet sigh of contentment leaving her lips. He blushed at the old nickname. “I haven’t seen you since—”

“Senior year,” he finished. “When you kicked ass at the rugby state championship a few days after graduation. 

A small smile formed on her lips as she reminisced. “That was one of the best days of my life… I remember you made a point to come congratulate me on the field.”

“Of all things you remember about that day,” he chucked, “you remember that?”

“Of course I do. It was you, dummy.”

Joaquin blushed again, nervous with the way she looked at him admiringly.

“Do you remember AP Lit with Mr. Rudd?”

“Oh god,” she groaned with a laugh, covering her face. “He used to call you ‘Captain Daydream’ and somehow still liked you best.”

“And he called you ‘Trouble’,” Joaquin chuckled, “but he still gave you the best grade in the class.”

They both laughed, and in that moment, everything felt easy again like no time had passed. Like they were still two almost-friends who sat just a little too close, exchanged too many smiles, and maybe thought about each other a little too much when no one else was looking. Sage had always been a contradiction that made perfect sense.

Her tomboy nature helped her fit right in with the guys, keeping up with every competition like she had something to prove. Yet her quiet, effortless femininity stunned every boy who looked too long, leaving them slack-jawed when they realized just how beautiful she really was. She got along with the girls too—her creativity and knack for crafting made her a go-to for pep rally posters and prom decorations, and her warm, calming aura drew people in like sunlight.

“So what are you doing here?” Sage tucked the honey jar under her arm and tilted her head. “Are you—back in town or…?”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “Actually stationed here for a while. The Air Force brought me back, and now I’m working with the government in a slightly different capacity.”

“Sounds mysterious,” she teased, elbowing him in the side playfully. “Are you a secret agent now?”

“Wouldn’t be a very good one if I told you, huh?” he grinned.

Sage laughed, then gave him a once-over. “You look good, Qunino. Older. Stronger. You’ve got—I don’t know—a presence now. It’s so good to see you.”

“You look good too,” Joaquin replied. He felt heat rise to his face and tried not to look like a giddy sixteen-year-old. “I mean, you always did but—yeah. Still do. Better, even.”

With a small grin, Sage whispered thank you. She invited him to continue walking in the farmer’s market with her, and he gladly accepted. The conversation flowed so naturally. He learned she’d bounced around a few cities before landing in D.C. for the job of a lifetime. She was doing good work at the Smithsonian—big stuff, the kind of projects she used to daydream about during their stolen locker chats between classes. Joaquin wasn’t surprised; he always knew she’d thrive.

It felt natural. It was like they’d just picked up where they left off, except now they were adults and had no excuse to hide behind teenage nerves. They were passing by the kettle corn stand—almost near the Tidal Basin—when it hit him.

“I used to have the biggest crush on you,” he blurted out.

“What?” Sage blinked, eyes wide behind her sunglasses. 

Joaquin chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck like he couldn’t believe he’d actually said it out loud.

 “I mean—yeah,” he muttered, glancing over at her with a sheepish smile. “Back in high school? You were untouchable. Cool, smart, always had that notebook full of doodles and plans of all the cool things you were going to create one day…”

She flushed and managed to whisper, “You noticed my sketches?”

“You used to sketch in your notebook during Chem lectures. I remember thinking you'd end up doing something big too. Like, designing space suits or sneakers for Beyoncé.”

“Of course I did.” He nudged her gently. Sage giggled when she lost her balance slightly and gripped his arm again to regain her balance. “I noticed everything about you.”

The air between them shifted, slower now, heavier. Sage stopped walking, hand lightly touching the railing overlooking the water. Joaquin stood closely next to her and reached out to hold the rail too. His fingers softly brushed hers and he hoped she didn’t pull away. She didn’t.

Sage turned toward him and nervously said, “I had the biggest crush on you.”

“You’re kidding,” Joaquin gasped, chest tightening. 

“I’m not. I used to walk past your locker early on purpose. Just to maybe catch your eye. Hoping you’d spare me a few minutes to talk before classes started for the day.”

“Are you serious? I thought I was being creepy because I timed my locker trips to run into you.”

Sage burst out laughing. They both stood there, stunned and smiling like idiots.

“I used to write your name in my notebook,” she said quietly. “Just little doodles. Hearts around our names… Dumb stuff like that.”

“I almost asked you to prom,” he admitted. “I was going to. I chickened out.”

“I waited. I thought you would. I wanted you to ask me…”

“I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Sage took a slow step forward, closing the space between them. Her voice was barely above a whisper now. “What about now?”

He met her gaze. “Now… I’m not letting you walk away again.”

And then he kissed her. It was soft at first—careful, warm. Like opening a book they’d both once loved but hadn’t read in years. Then it deepened, all those years of missed chances and quiet heartaches spilling over. When they finally pulled back, Joaquin rested his forehead against hers.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he murmured.

“Good,” she smiled, brushing her thumb along his jaw, “because I’m not letting you go this time.”

With a finger tucked in the belt loops on both her hips, Joaquin pulled her closely and kissed again. Sage melted into his torso and lost herself in the kiss. A soft whimper left her lips when Joaquin snaked a hand into her back pocket, squeezing lightly. She kissed him harder in response and lightly tugged his hair at the nape of his neck. They pulled apart again, both gasping for air. She wrapped both her arms around his torso and smiled up at him. Keeping one hand in her back pocket, Joaquin trailed his free hand down her arm and held one of her hands.

“Wanna grab coffee?” Joaquin asked after a moment. “Maybe try again—this time without teenage awkwardness?”

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” Sage grinned, squeezing his hand.

As they walked toward the coffee shop, shoulder to shoulder, Joaquin felt something settle in his chest—a kind of peace he hadn’t realized he’d been searching for. The breeze was cool but not cold, the late afternoon sun casting soft gold across the pavement, and every now and then, their arms would brush in that quiet, familiar way that made his pulse skip.

III. WHAT COMES NEXT This time, we don’t let it go.

Three weeks later, Sage was curled up on Joaquin’s couch, sketchpad in her lap, while he worked on a broken Redwing drone on the floor.

“You’re still terrible at soldering,” she teased.

“Hey,” Joaquin groaned playfully, not looking up. “I’ve gotten slightly better.”

“You’re just lucky you’re cute,” She grinned, tossing a pillow at him. 

Joaquin laughed as he picked up the pillow and walked over to her. He plopped down next to the coach, stretching his legs across the chase ottoman. Sage shifted slightly so she was closer to him, thighs touching. Joaquin reached out, snaked an arm behind her back, and rested his hand on her hip. His fingers brushed under his Air Force t-shirt—the one that she had turned into her own oversized cropped t-shirt—and he rubbed shapes on her hip.

“You know what I think?” He glanced up at her, eyes shining. She hummed in response. “This—right here? You and me? It was worth the wait.”

“Yeah,” Sage whispered. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “It really was.”

Hooking one leg across his hips, Sage leaned fully into his side and closed the small distance between them. Her hand slid along his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt as she kissed him—slow, sure, like she’d been meaning to for years. Joaquin smiled into the kiss, warmth blooming across his chest as he pulled her closer. 

One hand squeezed her hip with a kind of certainty he didn’t even realize he’d been craving, while the other found the back of her head, fingers gently threading through her hair, holding her there—not to trap her, but like he was afraid to let her go too soon. Their mouths moved in sync, familiar in a way that caught them both off guard. She tasted faintly of citrus and something sweeter.

They didn’t say much, and they didn’t have to. The room was filled with soft, lazy kisses and the low hum of voices weaving together—murmurs about takeout or maybe cooking something simple, a vague plan to walk around the city Saturday or just stay in. Every touch lingered a little longer than necessary. Every breath felt like it carried the weight of everything they hadn’t said back then. 

And now, it was like their bodies were making up for all that time. Wrapped in each other, they weren’t just making out—they were catching up, reconnecting, and rewriting the ending that never got a proper start. When they finally broke apart, Sage rested her head against his chest and held one of his hands. 

“I know we lost a lot of years,” Sage said quietly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles, “but I don’t think those feelings ever really went away.”

“Me too,” Joaquin murmured in agreement, heart pounding. “My feelings for you keep getting stronger everyday…”

Sage looked up at him then, eyes a little glossy but steady, like she was really seeing him for the first time—and not the version from high school, not the memory she used to miss—but the man right in front of her. The one who’d waited, who’d wondered, who’d never stopped hoping.

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I know what I want now. I want you, Quino. Forever.”

“Me too… I’m in this for the long-haul, Sage,” he whispered.

Joaquin kissed her again—gentle this time, like a promise. And when they pulled away, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing her cheek. Outside, the city buzzed like it always had, unchanged. But inside, everything was different. They weren’t lost teenagers anymore, circling the edge of something they didn’t know how to name. They were here—older, braver, still a little unsure, but together.

[terminuslucis]

Did little Silver Celebrate Pride back in his world ? And if yes, does he still celebrate in Twisted Wonderland ?

(happy Pride Month)

LGBT Pride/Pride Month don't really exist as concepts in Little Silver's world. People just are whatever they are. It's quite nice.

In the interest of amusement and character exploration, I can tell you about the silly friends/family from Little Silver's world.

Terry He likes guys and girls and loves a pretty face. He gives compliments with reckless abandon, though he's never actually flirting. It's hard to believe; many a poor soul thought they had a chance because of his cavalier attitude. He likes attention in whatever form he can get it. However, he's not actually looking for a relationship right now. He's too busy pursuing his passions: tomfoolery, theater, and friendship featuring tomfoolery and theater.

Philip Gender isn't a concern of his, but he's not someone with a strong interest in dating people, though he has had a girlfriend in the past. He prefers hanging out with friends to any prospective date. That said, there's a non-zero chance that he'll eventually happen his way into a marriage of convenience only to realize that Terry was actually his first love. There's another possibility that Terry will tell someone they're dating in college, when Philip never noticed that was an option.

I guess what I'm saying is that Philip's one true love is Terry, he just doesn't know it yet.

Amalia She likes guys, but until very recently hasn't had the luxury of thinking about romance. She's trying to raise a very strange child who needs a lot of attention, lest he wander into a graveyard and come back with a new undead friend. Now that he's older and on his way to independence, she's at a loss for how to meet new people at all, much less someone she might marry. It doesn't help that her family practically has a genetic resistance to romantic attention. There's probably someone at work who's crushing hard on her, while she can't remember his name.

Silver He has yet to show interest in anyone and is more oblivious than the rest of his family to attention thrown his way. He's not exactly aromantic/asexual, but he wouldn't recognize his feelings if they slapped him in the face and told him "THIS IS THE ONE YOU LOVE." Woe be to anyone who tries to win his heart. It would take nothing short of a miracle to even get their foot in the door.

As for gender, these four are all cis. Little Silver is very fond of feminine and androgynous clothes, but is still very much a (petite and ghastly pale) boy.

[royal-chandler]

thanks for the tag @tailsbeth-writes! it's appreciated as always! i can't stand to look at my wips right now so i just wrote a tiny ficlet.

--

“So, your bougie ass doesn’t keep teabags. I had to watch a tutorial on YouTube on what to do with a teapot. My first thought was to impress you with your usual but then I thought that you might prefer it a different way when you're sick,” Alex says when he returns to the living room in what Henry’s brain, fogged with flu, measures to be the blink of an eye. “I decided I’ll just go to the source.” 

Henry is a touch confused until Alex walks into his eyeline. He watches Alex carefully set down a laden tea tray and all at once, Henry aches all over. He hadn’t even heard the kettle’s whistle. “Oh, my sweetheart. You don’t have to make a fuss.”

“Do anything for you.” Alex squeezes Henry’s thigh after he sits and presses close despite Henry’s protests. He leans over and presses a chaste kiss to Henry’s cheek, to the corner of his mouth. From a nose away, Alex tells him, “It’s never a fuss.”

“I’ve got the LemSip,” Henry tries, a pitiful scrape up his throat. 

“You can take that so many times a day. And when you’re under the weather you gotta have your comforts.”

In no relation to a fever, Henry goes warm under his sternum and Alex’s knowing gaze, his fingers curling up in the cuffed ends of Alex’s borrowed hoodie. 

“Now let me make you a fucking cup of tea,” Alex continues, smiling. One more quick, soft kiss to Henry’s cheek. “Does it look alright?”

Set out is a teapot, a creamer of milk, and small bowls of raw sugar and lemon slices. There’s Henry's favorite pairing of cups and saucers, spoons to the side. Thoughtfully, a barely used jar of honey stands in a corner. 

“Perfect.” Henry nods. “How long’s it been steeping for?”

Alex checks his phone. “Five minutes?”

“We can give it another,” Henry manages to gasp out before an ineloquent and misty sneeze leaves him. It shears his throat even more. Miserably, he moans into Alex’s shoulder. “Ugh, sod.” 

“My poor Victorian baby,” Alex murmurs, carding his magic fingers through Henry’s hair. 

Who is going through it because he can’t muster the energy to retort, only snuffle in agreement. Too soon, he has to release his wonderful boyfriend so Alex can pull the lid off the teapot which steams gently as the tea ball is tugged out. Alex follows his visual instructions to pour the tea first, drop in sugar and honey, a cloud of milk—no matter Alex’s judgment—and a twist of lemon. 

The tea is stirred as though it’s of the utmost importance to get it just right. 

“Careful, it’s still pretty hot,” Alex warns, handing the cup over. 

Alex is right. The tea burns deliciously on the way down, heated some degrees above how Henry would usually take it. It’s slightly bitter, the time miscalculated and not enough sweetness to cut it, but the tea is also the first thing Henry’s been able to somewhat taste in hours and been made with love right before his eyes. 

“How is it?” Alex asks, obviously feigning to be blithe. 

“Best I’ve ever had,” Henry says, soothed and tucking back into the comfort of Alex’s side. 

--

no-pressure tags: @onthewaytosomewhere @iboatedhere @anyroomsrio @suseagull5914 @jmagnabo92 @tinyarmedtrex @thesleepyskipper and open to all ✨

also happy pride! 🌈

[leggerefiore]

cw: Giratina Volo, jealousy, fluff,

pairing: Volo/Reader

The shadowy tendrils wrapped around you tightly. There was a horrible dissonance in their physicality in restraining you yet their airy, inhuman feel. Glowing crimson claws at the end held your attention more in the end. One dug into your skin, not daring to pierce the skin, but just enough pressure to keep your mind on its presence. You felt a shaky breath escape you. This predicament would almost feel like death to anyone else, you knew.

The tendrils spread from the back of what appeared to be an otherwise normal man if one ignored the lower half of his body and those terrifying eyes alongside the golden scales that clung to his chest. What had gotten him in such a mood? Nearly everything did. It was little wonder he was banished to this hellish world where time flows oddly and space is disordered. It was a punishment for something he had done to Arceus, but that was a topic you dared not breach. He was already capricious enough. You sighed.

“Volo,” you called out to him. Those eyes stared even more through you. Really… You had gotten too close to a rift out of this dimension, and he took it as you were trying to leave him. You knew how lonely he was, being stuck here with no company for what must have been an amount of time incomprehensible to your mind, but… Really, his possessiveness knew no bounds. It did not matter that he was a dragon at his heart, either. He gaze refused to shift.

“I was simply curious,” you offered, “I promised you long ago that I wouldn't leave you.” How much time had passed since you first ended up in the arms of the Renegade Pokémon? You had not the faintest idea. Time did not function here normally. Peeks at the outside world through reflections rarely provided you enough information to truly know. It was just you and the Giratina hybrid. That was all there was.

He brought a hand to your face, the chill of his skin always catching you off-guard. Leaning in close, you could feel the eldritch aura ruminating from him. He was unknowable as they came. A being that existed in another world that activity dismantled the normal one with his very presence. But… You did love him. He truly gave everything you could ever desire in what must have been his own personal hell.

You lived far more comfortably here than you ever had in the world you originated from. Maybe that was what drew you to that cave, despite the rumours of disappearances. He had taken those foolish enough to wander into the depths of his cave. Where they went after, you opted against asking about. There was a feeling in your heart, though. Dragons were quite carnivorous.

Your pleas for a better life are what had caught his interest. When the banished deity appeared before you, you actually fell to your knees and bowed deeply. It was likely a fickle decision of his to spare you whatever awful face he had subjected others to, but he took you away to his dimension.

The distorted world was a comfort.

You just grew curious about the normal world. How had it changed? Had it changed at all? You wondered.

Though, part of what you promised to Volo... Your eternal devotion and entire being for comfort and safety. Closing your eyes, you knew it was not a bad choice. When faced with the risk of famine and disease or being mauled by a savage, unruly pokemon, the safety of an unknown world was preferred. Volo's protection was something you would rather not lose, for various reasons.

“… I'm aware,” he replied and placed you down on a floating ground piece. The endless distortion of this world may drive one to madness should they pay too much attention to how things functioned. You wondered if you would be able to walk with normal gravity sometimes. Volo landed beside you, his serpentine lower body laying across the oddly coloured ground. “Some of those portals lead to places in different worlds and timelines than the one you originated from,” he said simply, “… Or are you that discontented now that you are ready to flee to any place away from me?”

You approached him, easily find your arms around his neck. The skin was marred between a near porcelain skin tone and the eerie grey of his scales. The hard golden ones – more like armour – on his chest pressed onto you. Your curiosity was boundless. He could not blame you. Even his often grew curious himself… You had seen him observing the normal world through reflections plenty of times. Your lips pressed to his own. His hands found your face again. The affection lasted for far too long.

Pulling away, he shifted his tail so that you may sit upon it. The Distortion World would always feel odd… But, it really was your home after all this time. Returning to the normal world had no long-term appeal for you. His arms wrapped around your waist as he held you to himself, no doubt trying to steal your natural mammalian warmth.

“My sole worshipper,” he referred to you, “… Do you truly still wish to uphold your covenant?”

“Of course,” you said simply, “I'll continue to be your mate.”

With that, his nature changed to something more mild. It seemed that you would be enjoying the other's company for quite a while.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 14.2 - Dating for Weirdos, Take #2

“So fairies are real,” Alice says, peering over a giant stack of pancakes.

“I am not a fairy,” Akira corrects, eyeing her plate. Is she really gonna eat all that? “Fairies are assholes.”

“But you listed a bunch of creatures that are all fae and fairies were on the list,” she points out. “So they are real.”

"Okay," Akira replies slowly, tugging at the frayed edges of his patience, "Yeah, fairies are real. You don’t have a different question?"

"I do."

"Great. Then—"

"But you said I can’t talk about Ghost Trackers, even though I love that show and I think ghosts are cool because, according to you, ghosts are also assholes."

Ghosts were assholes. But also, Alice was a curious little danger magnet and her interest in the supernatural world's most unpredictable group was giving him heart palpitations.

“Akira thinks everyone is an asshole,” Vlad adds as he signals the waitress for more plates. He divides up the pancakes between him and Alice, taking extra care to make sure she has the most syrup.

Suspiciously, there is no plate for Akira.

“I meant questions about this.” Akira gestures at the three of them. "You know, the three of us being in a relationship. Maybe one where we all get pancakes?"

Alice leans forward, elbow on the table, propping up her chin. “Pitch it to me again.”

AGAIN?

Akira can feel his eye twitching. He prefers this to Alice being scared. He understands that giving him a hard time is part of making her feel safe, but really, hasn't this gone on long enough? With a scoff, he reaches for her plate, intending to take a bite, when Alice gives him a look that would freeze water.

He scowls. "I can't have one fucking pancake?"

"No!" she exclaims. "I barely have enough pancakes for myself and Vlad, and we need all of them so that we can hear everything you're saying to us about this situation."

It was an unhinged response.

Akira covers his face with his hands and smothers a groan. "Alright. What part do you want me to explain again?" he bites out slowly.

Alice doesn't miss a beat. "All of it."

After explaining the entire scope of the supernatural world for a second time, Akira is sure he is off the hook. He's wrong, of course, because he underestimated them. Akira wanted brats; he expected brats, and what he got was a demonic tag team.

Alice invites him and Vlad back to her dorm, where she spends exactly twenty-five minutes seated on Vlad’s lap while he asks increasingly circular questions about elves and their bargains. Akira finds himself torn between being horny over the wordplay and the way the two of them are flirting with each other and being annoyed at having to answer more non-relationship questions.

After declaring that Akira has failed to give a single correct answer, Vlad announces that he’s going to read a book. Delusion makes Akira hopeful that he can get things back on track. He gets comfortable with Alice on the floor. They chat, and just when she seems relaxed enough for him to broach the topic of a relationship again, Vlad interrupts.

“Not to throw a wrench into this conversation,” he says, clearly thrilled to be doing just that, “But Magpie, didn't you want to ask Akira about something he said to you when you first met?”

Dread gathers in the pit of Akira’s stomach. Please don't let this be about his promise to watch that stupid tv show.

“Oh, yeah!” Alice frowns. “You made me a promise. You said you’d watch a season of 7 Wild Dates with me, but you didn’t watch it.”

It's not a question. The amount of willpower it takes stop himself from pointing that out is agonizing. So is the disappointment on Alice's face, which Akira quickly realizes he can’t fucking stand and will do anything to stop from happening. “Whoa, I didn’t break my promise,” he replies soothingly. “I just didn’t watch the show yet.”

“The barest of technicalities,” Vlad hums from his spot perched on Alice’s ottoman. He turns another page of the book he almost certainly not reading. 

“But don’t you have to keep your promises?” Alice asks. “Because it's a bargain, so like, I’m getting magic tendrils from you as payment until you fulfill it.” 

Akira tries to ignore the urge he has to explain in excruciating detail how the mechanics of a magical bargain are definitely not—gods help him—“magic tendrils.”

“Let’s not call it that for a second, okay?” He buries a grimace. “I didn’t break my promise. I’ve just been holding onto it because it feels good to owe you something.”

“Oh!” Vlad tosses the book behind him and rests his chin on his hand in a perfect caricature of thoughtful innocence. “So it’s masturbation.” 

“IT IS?” Alice gasps

"Hold on," Akira stumbles to his feet on instinct. It's a mistake because it shows fear and the two of them immediately sense it. In seconds, they're on their feet too, and they smell blood in the water. 

“You’re masturbating to promising me something?” Alice looks half-intrigued. “Wait, like every night or…”

“No,” Akira says firmly, even though the answer, by the barest of technicalities, is obviously yes. “Get that out of your head.”

“So no, you’ve never jerked off and thought about me?” She twists around and steeples her fingers, dark delight dancing across her face. “Or no, you don’t want me to think about you jerking off when you think about me?”

Behind her, Vlad grins. “Yes, Akira, which one is it?”

“Do fairies have wings?” she wonders.

“We are not doing this,” Akira growls, “I am not a—”

“Fairy. I know. Do they jerk off?”

“I was wondering the same thing," Vlad adds, "Akira, what are the masturbatory habits of small winged creatures?”

If Akira's eye twitched any harder, it would leap out of its socket. “Fairies are not small. A small winged creature is a sprite, which I know you know because you made me explain it ten fucking times. Is this a joke? Are you two trying to drive me crazy?” 

“No,” Alice blinks politely. “I'm just trying to collect important information. Like, will sprites masturbate to making a bargain with me or does size matter?”

“Alright, that is enough,” Akira snaps. “You two have had your fun, but now that fun is over. We are not stalling and we are not having anymore distractions.” 

"I'm not stalling!" Alice yelps.

“You are," Akira replies, "And your little partner in crime is assisting you because he's a demon who thrives on chaos. I know you are freaked out about this entire situation because you are a hustler who protects your heart with the fierceness of godsdamned dragon.” He gives her a warning look. "But I am not put off by dragons. I will fight any number of them if it proves to you my devotion. So no more questions about what sprites do with their genitals and tell me straight up: yes or no to this relationship?"

PREV | NEXT

[fableforger]

Ohhhhh my gods i need that handsome puppy ask with the female RO equivalent pleaseeeee

For context: 👉🏻 Previous Ask

Haha, I’m glad there’s demand for the female version of the scene!

Just a quick heads-up though: most of the moments stayed very much the same (with a few small twists here and there).

Alexa and Alexos, Zephyra and Zephiron and all of the others - they’re two sides of the same coin, really. So forgive me if their versions feel largely familiar.

But – instead of Drakon, we do have “???” in this lineup.

And maybe, for some of you… that’s already more than enough reason to be curious. 😉

Beware: Since this is a RO-related ask, there may be minor spoilers ahead. Please keep scrolling if you’d prefer to stay unspoiled.

..............................................................................................................................

Alexa:

You say it offhandedly, voice soft - “There’s my beautiful girl…”

Alexa doesn’t stop walking, but you see the faintest tension in her posture – like someone trying very hard not to react.

“Now?” she mutters, low enough that it could almost be to herself. “You say that now?”

The blush creeping up her neck says more than she ever would.

Still, she turns - just slightly - lips twitching with the hint of a smile…

…only to spot the kitten wriggling in your arms.

The smile disappears. Completely.

Alexa stares. A beat.

Then, coolly:

“…Of course.”

She walks on, like she doesn’t care at all. She definitely sulks for the next five minutes.

Later, when she thinks you're not looking, she crouches nearby and holds out a gloved hand. The kitten climbs into her palm, purrs loud enough to tremble the air.

Alexa doesn’t smile.

But you hear her whisper,

“…Ridiculous creature.”

(She means the kitten. Probably.)

---

Zephyra:

You murmur it with a grin - “You are so cute…”

Zephyra doesn’t even glance up at first.

“Compliments?” she says, voice lilting. “You know I love those.”

She turns toward you, already smiling - but then her eyes drop.

To the kitten.

Nestled in your arms.

Whiskers quivering. Eyes twitching. Gleaming with betrayal.

Zephyra blinks.

“…Huh.”

There’s a beat. Then:

“Well. She is moderately adorable.”

She rests a finger against her chin, pretending to study the kitten with scholarly interest.

“Bit small. Odd posture. But I suppose everyone has their preferences.”

She walks on like nothing happened.

Later, you find her napping beneath a tree, the kitten curled up against her collarbone, nestled into the folds of her clothing.

She’s half-asleep, hand stroking it with dreamlike slowness.

“I am still the prettier one,” she tells the kitten.

The kitten yawns at her. Zephyra sighs. You try not to laugh.

---

Thera:

You say it without thinking - “There’s my beautiful girl…”

Thera pauses mid-step. Turns to you, smile already forming - soft, radiant, full of warmth.

You see it in her eyes - the way she wants to come closer.

And then she spots the kitten in your arms.

Her smile falters, then shifts - not into disappointment, but into something gentler. A breath of laughter escapes her.

She kneels slowly, offering the kitten her hand like a greeting - and flinches slightly as the tiny paw lashes out, claws and all.

Thera looks down at the scratch on her skin. No anger in her face.

“Fitting,” she says softly.

Then, glancing up at you with a wry tilt of her head -

“Your heart could tame even the wildest little creature.”

The kitten gazes up at her, wide-eyed, and lets out a loud, unapologetic meow. Thera nods once - as if the two of them just came to an understanding.

And if you didn’t know better, you’d swear they had.

---

Dione:

You say it casually - “There’s my stunning lady…”

Dione lights up instantly, like she’s been waiting for this moment all day.

“Well, finally,” she purrs. “Though really - I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me this whole time.”

She turns, smug as ever - until she sees the kitten. Her entire face falls. Dramatically.

“You absolute traitor.”

To you?

To the kitten?

To love itself? Unclear.

She folds her arms.

“I hope you two will be very happy together,” she says, deadpan. “May your conversations be always profound and your shared meals evenly portioned.”

You try to explain - she raises a hand.

“No, no. You’ve made your choice. Clearly, you want something small, furry, and covered in claws.”

She pauses.

“…Though I suppose I could supply you with the claws as well.”

You laugh. She won’t admit it, but she’s already watching how the kitten moves.

Assessing the competition.

You’ll have to make it up to her later. Probably with praise. And a lot of touching.

--

Rhaela:

You say it softly - “There’s my beautiful little lady…”

Rhaela stops mid-step. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t speak.

You only just catch the quiet muttering:

“Lady?”

Then, with faint confusion - “Little?”

She turns - sees the kitten in your arms.

Silence stretches again.

Finally:

“…So that’s how it is,” she says, expression unreadable. “I’ve been replaced.”

She walks past you - calm, composed - and says only:

“Let me know when she can hold a sword.”

Later, you find her seated near the fire.

The kitten is curled against her boot, tiny body pressed close.

She doesn’t pet it - but her hand rests nearby, steady, protective.

You stifle a laugh when you notice the many scratches on her hands.

“She’s feisty,” Rhaela says simply. “You chose well.”

You smile at her.

“I didn’t replace you, Rhaela.

You’re still my favorite lady to fight beside.”

A slow exhale. Thoughtful.

“…I’m just not sure I could win against her.

Honestly.”

That’s when your laughter finally breaks free, and you sink down beside them both - and let yourself stay there.

---

???

You say it with a chuckle – “Hello, beautiful…”

And instantly, you feel her presence.

That sudden stillness, that radiant pull – like all of her attention just clicked into place.

“Ohhh…”

She’s seconds away from launching into a dramatic swoon - you can practically taste the poetic monologue rising in the air.

Then she spins around to face you - and sees the kitten in your arms.

But instead of looking hurt or disappointed, her expression breaks into an impossibly wide, genuine smile.

“She’s enchanting. Truly!”

She snatches the kitten from your arms, spinning with it like it’s some divine treasure.

“Oh, look at you! So fluffy! So tiny! Do you have some-”

Scratch.

You’re not surprised. You definitely saw that coming.

And, honestly? She probably did too.

Bright red claw marks bloom across her cheek as the kitten scampers away from the crime scene.

She presses her hands to her face with a soft little groan.

“Ow.”

“Let me see.”

You gently pull her hands away.

She peers up at you with wide, puppy dog eyes - and for a moment, you wonder if that’s what the kitten didn’t trust.

“Do you think it’ll scar?” she asks, quiet and oddly sincere.

“No,” you murmur, reassuring. “And even if it did, you’d still be the most beautiful thing around.”

For a moment, she just looks at you - and then she leans in, soft and certain, and presses her lips against yours.

It's warm. Light.

Like a thank-you she didn’t know how to speak aloud.

When she pulls back, her smile is smaller - but somehow even brighter.

Later, you find her fast asleep, a blanket tangled around her like soft clouds, the kitten curled atop her head like a crown.

She’s smiling in her sleep.

Seems like they made up.

You don’t dare move.

And you definitely don’t tell her how unbearably cute that was.

She already knows.