#my babey boy i love him so much

[bandysnatched]

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ & ʙᴏʀɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ

[j-femmescoli]

greatest bit he’s done yet

[stevebabey]

you thought it would be all sweetness??? nooo u got to have a little miscommunication angst before anyone gets any hickies. but they will. in time >:) part one. part two. this is a part three :)

Steve blames it all on the clock.

That stupid cuckoo clock on the wall of the Munson trailer. It's an absolute horror of interior design that would make Steve’s mom shiver if she ever laid eyes on it. It’s probably why Eddie loves it — and the god-awful cuckoo! noise it makes when it goes off.

Because the moment Eddie utters that delightful question, asking for a hickie, the nerve of him, Steve loves it — and Steve is more than ready to oblige him — the stupid clock goes off.

It gives them both a fright, Steve more than Eddie. He gives a whole-body twitch that shifts them both, his head snapping to the wall, a breath forced out of his lungs at the sight of the mustard-coloured bird. Shit. Stupid fuckin’ clock, Steve thinks.

But it seems to break the trance over the room. The sweet tension of their shared closeness is sucked out of the room in an instant. Steve is suddenly aware of the time the popping out bird is announcing. It’s late. Far later than Steve intended to stay over, especially considering work tomorrow.

Without meaning to, the prickle under Steve’s skin rolls through his body. It steals away the comfort that he usually feels with Eddie, tenseness filling his body. Steve hates it — hates how he can’t stop himself from tensing up beneath Eddie.

Eddie notices. He's quick to to retract himself from Steve, pushing up and back, giving Steve his space. He sits beside Steve on the couch, still close. Not close enough to touch.

It helps. The rigidness of Steve's body relaxes just a bit but Steve doesn’t want that. He wants Eddie back on him. Wants his hands gripping Steve’s side. His breath fanning over Steve’s face, cheeks cherry red and pupils blown wide. Steve doesn’t say any of that and he sure is shit isn't brave enough to ask for it.

Instead, he croaks, “It’s late.”

Steve reluctantly pushes himself up from his slumped position, eyes already searching for his scattered shoes. He misses the way Eddie’s face falls, the way he tries to tug his hair in front of his face to hide the hurt. It takes another second to school his expression.

Steve hears a cough and then Eddie agrees with a murmur. “Yeah, sure.”

The words ache. No part of Steve is relieved to have Eddie agree with him. He’s not sure what he wanted; for Eddie to egg him to stay just a little while longer? To prove that their kisses hadn’t been a heat of the moment impulsivity? There's nothing to prove they weren't.

No, it was Steve who said he had to go. It is late. But then again maybe, Eddie wanted him to leave. But, no— Eddie just asked for a hickie, he wouldn’t—

“Don’t you have work early tomorrow?” Steve’s spiral cuts short at Eddie’s voice, tinged with… irritation?

O-kay. Now Steve’s not sure what to think. What had been the source of immense joy because Steve had asked for a kiss and Eddie said yes is suddenly… tilted.

The beginnings of embarrassment begin to cling to Steve like a thick fog. He’s done it again. Been overly eager. Asked for too much, too soon— fuck, that had been Eddie’s first kiss too.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, standing and shoving his foot into the one shoe he can find. He spies the other one under the table and wiggles it out with his toe. He can’t find in it to look at Eddie, not just yet. “Yeah, uh, I should get going.”

It’s all wrong. Steve shouldn’t be leaving — not on these terms. Not when he can’t look at Eddie for fear of what he’ll find. Regret? Steve’s not sure if he could face Eddie again, not if there’s even a trace of it on his face. It would feel like Halloween all over again, a bludgeon on Steve’s too-soft heart. It’ll crumble, he just knows it.

Steve wants to stay. He really wants to. He wants to ask for another kiss, ask for a dozen more kisses. Wants to give the hickie Eddie asked so nicely for and receive one back; matching love bites, like a gentler version of their matching twisted scars adorning their sides.

But he’s always asking for more. Steve always needs more. It’s greedy. It’s embarrassing how much he wants it, how he’s already gotten patient touches from Eddie but it’s not enough. Eddie had sounded a pinch annoyed — even aggravated at Steve.

It doesn't cross his mind that it might be for any other reason. Really, Steve thinks he’s doing Eddie a favour.

“Um,” Steve clears his throat, takes the wobble out of his words. Nods to himself and chances a glimpse at Eddie. The older is staring down at his lap, locks of hair trapped between twitchy fingers. They should talk about it. Steve’s not brave enough to risk his heart tonight.

“Well, g’night.” He says quietly, letting himself out the trailer door. He closes it behind him gently, shoes tapping against the stairs on the way down. It feels wrong, it feels wrong — but it would be selfish to turn back.

He repeats the sentiment over and over, raspy whispers beneath his breath as he climbs into his car. It would be selfish. The engine turns over and he hesitates for just a moment, hoping to catch a silhouette in the kitchen window. It’s empty. Of course, it’s empty.

Of course, Eddie is not chancing for a glance at him on his way out because Steve just asked for more and more and more, and he took Eddie’s first kiss and then— He whispers it to himself again. It would be selfish to turn back.

When he thinks about it on the drive home, Steve’s sure it all comes back to that stupid fucking clock.

-

Eddie stares in the mirror.

He’s not sure why he was so convinced there would be some radical change in him upon popping his make-out cherry but… well, here he was. Staring in the mirror like he had this morning. Except 10 hours earlier, he had been unkissed.

Tonight, the difference shows. His lips are rosier than usual, a swell to them given by hasty sweet kisses. It’s the only evidence of his spit-sharing moment of passion with Steve on the couch. The rosy colour is already beginning to fade.

Eddie sinks his teeth in. He doesn’t want the only physical proof that he even got to kiss Steve to be gone so soon. Even if that fact seems terribly bitter now.

“What the shit did you do, Munson?” He murmurs to himself in the tiny bathroom mirror.

It’s got toothpaste specks splayed across it. Eddie stares past them. Stares into his own face, reading every change in his features as emotions inside him churn. It’s heading for a distraught expression, the upturn of his brows and quiver in his lips giving him away. He always was a crier. Eddie really wishes he wasn’t.

“Idiot!” He pairs the word with a bang on the wall beside the mirror, frustration leaking out. The toothbrush on the sink shudders in its cup with a clink.

Eddie hates the welling in his eyes. He hates that he ruined the first fuckin’ good thing to happen to him in this town. Loathes that he drives away the first person who actually knows him and still wants to kiss him.

Well, wanted to kiss him.

Eddie’s pretty sure Steve scampering out of the trailer is more than a big enough sign. It’s a blazingly bright neon sign — light up words that say ‘This was a mistake!’

Except, it hadn’t felt at all like a mistake to Eddie. It had felt wonderful, better than anything he had thought, the soft curve of Steve’s lips, the grip on his hands on Eddie’s face, the heat in his face, the— Eddie growls, wiping his hand down his face to shake the thoughts. Too good to be true was what it was.

It’s because of what he said. Of what he asked for. It had to be that. But— but Steve had looked eager and almost excited and then the stupid clock had gone off, scaring the shit out of them both. Maybe it was then that Eddie’s words had sunk in and Steve realised what he’d gotten into— and who he’d gotten into it with.

“You had to ask for more, huh?” Eddie scolds himself angrily, wiping his cheeks harshly when a tear streaks free. Another follows, just as fast. Eddie wipes roughly at his face to clear them. Doesn’t care about the streaks of red he leaves on his cheeks. Another trembling reprimand comes out. “You just had to push it, huh? You fuckin’ idiot.”

Eddie can’t stand his reflection anymore. He tears his gaze away as he spins and heads straight for his room.

The button on his stereo is sticky and it takes a few forceful clicks to turn it on, but when he does, he cranks it. It’s loud enough he’ll surely wake some neighbours. Eddie can’t find it in him to care, not even when the neighbours dog starts off with its incessant barking. Anything to stop hearing himself cry.

-

“Something’s up with Eddie.” is the first thing Robin says when she comes in the front door.

Steve’s mid-yawn when she does, a result of a night of tossing and turning, and he somehow manages a strange choke at her words. In a haste to shut his mouth, he chomps on his fingers covering his mouth — then hisses, pulling it away from his face. He ignores Robin’s perplexed expression, shoving the hand deep in his pocket. His ears feel a tad hotter.

“What? Why? What makes you think that?” Steve asks the questions in rapid succession. Very chill, he chides himself. At this rate, Robin would have him all figured out 10 minutes into their shift.

And it’s not like— well, Robin’s advice is usually great. A bit cut-throat, sure. She doesn’t have a problem trodding on his feelings on her way to tell him the hard truth. Usually, it’s fine. Steve could probably do with a bit of ego-bruising.

Today, he’s… It’s different. That’s what Steve tells himself. This thing with Eddie, he wants to fix it himself. And with too much meddling from Robin’s advice, even if it was with the best intentions, might mix things up too much. It’s hard enough keeping his half-baked apology that’s been brewing since last night in proper order in his mind.

Thankfully, Robin doesn’t comment on his odd demeanor. She just bustles into the back room — there are a couple sounds of her dumping her stuff. When she comes back out the front, she’s fixing her Family Video vest. It looks perfectly straight to Steve.

He checks his own — it’s sitting askew, part of the collar flipped over. He hastily fixes it, running his hands down the front to smooth it a bit.

“Just,” Robin starts, talking as she sits in front of the computer, beginning to take a crack at the admin she managed. She likes doing things as she talks, Steve knows. Helps keep her from letting words run away from her.

Steve’s thankful for it now because she isn’t looking at him when she says, “I think he might have had a bad nightmare last night, or something of that sort. I don’t know. Maybe I’m way off — you know how I am with trying to read people, Steve. I’m not good at it! But when I saw him, he just seemed…”

Robin seems to take an extra moment to deliberate her word choice. Steve’s really glad she’s still facing the computer so she can’t see the myriad of emotions that show on his face.

“…Off.” is the word she decides on.

Which means bad. Steve feels like he’s swallowed a stone. It sinks deep into his stomach. It burns, sour and scorned, twisting up his gut. It means Eddie is bad — it means disappointment, means he regretted it. That Steve had been right; that he’d been too eager, too soon. Too much.

Right. Of course, this happens again. Really, Steve had brought it on himself by asking for so much. It had been one thing to ask for a hug — who actually has to do that? — and then to expect he might get Eddie to kiss him too? What a overstep. Christ, he's an idiot.

“That’s not…” He hears himself say, still lost in his thoughts. It's only when Robin turns on the stool, brows raised, that Steve realises he hasn’t finished his sentence. “Good. That’s not good. To hear.”

Steve turns and starts shuffling around the films on the returns cart, picking them up at random. He stares at a copy of ‘The Princess Bride’ in his hands, a new release, and forces out a causal question.

“What made you think that?” He asks, shoving the film into an empty slot, like he was arranging them. He’s relieved when Robin’s clicking on the keyboard resumes, along with a dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can be trusted to read anyone’s emotions correctly at any given time, honestly. Remember that old lady? I thought she was being sweet that whole time and then you told me she was being rude! And I couldn’t even tell…”

Robin’s ramble is comforting and helpful to Steve in a way he didn’t know they could be. He presses the cart out, finally getting a move on with it, but delivers a quick nod to Robin when she’s looking to let her know he’s still tuned in. He listens to her get distracted by another topic and leaves Eddie’s name in the dust. It’s a silent relief.

It’s a task to multi-task, listening and devising a plan, but Steve has all shift to find the balance. It’s sometime between finishing re-stocking the action section and starting the romance that Steve decides he should apologise. He should go over today and apologise.

Eddie’s a big boy but Steve’s fairly certain now, if he regretted it, Eddie had probably felt obliged to kiss him back. Probably hadn’t minded the first kiss but- but— Something sticks in his brain; it was Eddie’s first kiss.

It makes Steve feel worse. It doesn’t matter, really, Steve should say sorry for all of it. God, he’s such an idiot.

By the time he’s clocked out, it’s all set in place. He’s got a dozen different apologies running in a loop in his head, reciting the words in time with his anxious tapping on the steering wheel. It’s not a long drive out to Forest Hills Trailer Park. The drive is well-known now. Steve tries hard not to wallow in what he might be losing today. What he lost because he’d been too greedy with want.

The sight of a brown van parked roadside yanks him from his thoughts. Eddie’s van. Steve’s stomach turns, nerves gnawing faster. He slows, trying to catch eye of the other boy as he rolls to a stop behind the van. The sun is beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the temperature going with it.

At the same time, they see each other; Eddie’s head popping around the raised hood to see who had stopped, right as Steve pops his door. Eddie retreats in an instant. Steve's chest grows a bit tighter.

Gravel crunches underfoot as Steve takes a few wary steps closer. It doesn’t take more than a couple before Eddie calls out. He doesn’t bother poking his head out again.

“Go away, Steve.”

Steve swallows thickly. Yeah, okay, he deserves that. He deserves probably worse than that. But more importantly than that, Eddie deserves to hear this. And Steve... needs to not lose Eddie.

“Can I… can we talk?” Steve asks, taking a couple steps closer. A car whizzes by on the road, hidden from Steve's view behind the van. He still keeps his distance, hovering. His hands clench nervously at his sides. Steve shoves them deep in his jean pockets, wiping the sweat off them as he goes.

“What part of ‘Go away’ isn’t clear enough for you?” Eddie snarks back. He still doesn't stick his head out, still won’t look at Steve. It stings.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, another instinctive step forward taken. “I-I just, I shouldn’t have left like I did last night. I wanted to apologise.”

There’s a clattering from behind the hood like Eddie’s dropped a tool. He swears. Steve wants to take another step, wants to see Eddie — wants to read every emotion and apologise for causing any of the ugly ones.

“Well, apology accepted,” Eddie responds. There’s a bite in his words. His next words are grumblier, quieter. “And message fuckin’ received.”

What? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That—” Finally, Eddie steps away from the van, rounding the hood to march up to Steve. His arms cross over his chest, a wrinkle set between his brows that pull his face into a glare. Robin was right; he is off. This isn’t normal Eddie. Fuck, Steve had fucked up bad.

“That means message received, Steve.” Eddie seethes. He uncrosses his arms to gesture wildly. Steve misses the wobble in his bottom lip. “Message received loud and clear! I get it!”

And all Steve wants to ask is: get what? He doesn’t ask that. He should know what. That would be an idiotic question, would make Eddie more irritated. Lord knows, Steve has been enough of a fool in the last day. So, he doesn’t ask.

“Look, I just…” Steve starts, words a bit weak. They die in his throat as he tries to recall a single apology he had practiced all day and comes up empty. “I’m just- I just wanted—look, I’m sorry I took your first kiss!”

It’s not exactly what he means to say, but Steve certainly is sorry for it. Eddie’s expression wavers, some anger slipping away. Confusion takes its place.

“What?” Eddie says with a tone of bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

“And I’m sorry I kept… kept asking for more.” Steve continues on, pulling on the thread inside him, connected to the terrible stone he swallowed earlier. He tugs it. Hopes pulling it will unravel the guilt sitting heavy in his stomach.

Steve scrunches his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know, okay? I know that I can be a lot.” He sighs and drops his hands.

“But I didn’t mean to… shit,” He wrenches his eyes open. Eddie’s a bit wide-eyed now, brown eyes watching him intently. Steve doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, can’t tell if it’s good or worse. He continues, soft words scraping out his throat.

“I didn’t mean to be like that with you.”

Eddie searches Steve’s face, eyes darting and wild. He licks his lips. His hands are in motion, fingers twisting rings, quick and fast. It’s a nervous action.

“What do you mean by ‘like that?’” Eddie asks, voice gentler. It's lost its snarl from before.

Steve blinks, a scrape of teeth worrying his bottom lip. He murmurs his admittance lowly, just one word, “Selfish.”

Eddie doesn’t try to hide his surprise; it ripples across his face in a wave. Confusion melts away into something closer to, Steve hopes desperately, relief. Steve can feel his own heart thudding hard inside his chest — can feel the beat it skips when Eddie steps closer.

“Steve?” Eddie says, sounding unlike himself. Steve’s never heard his voice that small. He nods, wordlessly. Eddie searches his face once more — wide brown eyes scanning and devouring. Steve can’t help but do the same.

He drinks in the details of Eddie’s face; the soft scruff along his top lip, the darkness of his lashes and the way they kiss in the corner that Steve adores. The pink of his lips. The familiar ache to kiss Eddie surges up within him, still as violent and strong as it had been the night before.

Steve should really stop looking at Eddie’s lips. He’s supposed to be apologising. He drags his eyes up and meets Eddie’s gaze full-on, prepared for whatever he might say. Except, he’s not expecting him at all to say;

“Can I... try this again?” It comes out a ragged breath, Eddie's scared eyes conveying the weight behind his words.

And this time Steve doesn't even need to ask what because he knows. Because Eddie's hands are reaching up and holding either side of Steve's face so gently. Steve can't recall a time he's ever been held so softly. His own hands come up slowly, draping around Eddie's wrists to hold them, to keep them there.

Eddie's thumb traces. It draws a sweet line of that familiar fire beneath Steve's skin along til it's settled on Steve's bottom lip, resting. The blood under Eddie's thumb thrums, gloriously warm, aching with want. Yes. Steve thinks. Yes, yes, yes.

"Yes, please." Steve breathes, so sincere the words comes out as a kiss against Eddie's thumb.

So, Eddie kisses him.

now with a part four !

tags below! sry if i tagged u and u didn't want it just tagging everyone who replied <3 @they-reap-what-we-sow @impeachy @anaibis @resident-gay-bitch @ediewentmissing @newtstabber @original-cypher @invisibleflame812 @hunterbow04 @leather-and-freckles @dracoswifeandlokispet @foolofentirelytoomanyfandoms @lfaewrites @sundead @call-me-big-eyes @the-redthread @goblinmanifesto @etaka @bishopextractions @ketterfuck @persephone13 @beckkthewreck @maya-custodios-dionach @autumnal-dawn @yourstrulyjoko @gleefully-macabre @princess-eddie @savory-babby

[wulfhalls]

they put my tiny baby boy to sleep today. they took him away from me he was my whole wide world and more without him I'd have killed myself thrice over in the last 8 years he was my everything he was so good and loving and sometimes so endearingly stupid and headstrong and lazy he loved his little boxies and scratches behind his ears and he let me hold his paw but hated when I did it to his tiny feeties he is the very best boy there ever was and idk how to exist in a world without him in it he used to follow me from room to room like a dumb idiot tiny dog and even when I was so depressed I didn't think I'd get out of bed he was always there always making me feel not alone and now he's gone. those are the last pictures I took of my idiot baby boy in his boxy. I just wanted someone to know that I love him more than the whole wide world and I'll never not miss him and that i love him and love him and love and everywhere I look is a place he isn't anymore and it makes me wanna end it all. I love you so much forever

[thescribblings]

My magnum opus, but i couldn't choose so you get multiple

That is all, have nice day

[heatherchasesyou]

Some sketches of my dude getting emotional 👉👈

[hexedrosel-arts]

An Odd little brain worm has affected me/pos

red x blue + childhood friends, just adorable (❁´◡`❁)

I won't say someone influenced me a little bit but-

[killuaisaprincess]

putty

Killua pouts.

“Y-You can’t say no! ‘C-Cause it’s my birthday!”

Killua’s saying that, but there are tears in his eyes like he’s expecting Gon to say no.

Gon smiles softly.

“Okay.”

[arlathen]

pushing the fat agenda in the dnd campaign i am tentatively planning by having all the fat characters be sweethearts and having the mean/evil characters be thin + as they descend into being more evil they get thinner. peace and love on the planet earth <3

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

wait stop 😭😭😭 jacob in this episode I can't-

[lecliss]

Ya know, when I heard Vincent was getting his FR finally, I certainly wasn't expecting his partner to be Prompto, and yet. It makes sense.

[minarcana]

answer some questions and i’ll give you a character arc

romance / friendship arc

you started this story a little hard, or awkward, or stubborn. that's okay. it's harder than it should be to admit, but what you really want is love. that's what your story is all about - not just the act of loving, but the allowance of it. the confession that you do not want to fight or bleed or save the world, but to simply feel the way two hands fit so easily together. you will have two chairs and a table and you will shut your blinds, and you will say the word love without faltering. this is a happy ending, and you do not need to feel guilty. it hurts our hands to fight - never to hold.

tagged by: @fxrtunas​ tagging: @bonmotx​ i want to see my little bei i want to see myyyy little bei

[nineteeneightywhore]

love earless cats love cats w no tail love limbless kits love kitties w eyes missing love ripped up little cats i love all cats!!!!!!!!! love all kittys and kittens esp when they have bits and pieces missing. hope this helps

[sweet-as-an-angel]

cuddling with könig hcs?? maybe he’s super exhausted and just wants to be held by reader and be in their presence 🥺

Modern Warfare 2 Cuddling Headcanons

Warnings: No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, Just a whole lot of fluff ☹️ <3, Mild Hurt/Comfort, CUDDLING !1!!1, Snuggling, Extremely Vague Implications of Ghost’s Past, Minor Mentions of Death, Vague Implications of Smut, Mention of a Boner (Brief), Nothing Explicit in this Post.

Ghost

He’s very secretive when letting you know he wants to be held.

It’s as if he’s ashamed to admit it, to you, to himself – as if the habits he’d picked up as a child, to hide his intentions, his feelings, had followed him into adulthood.

They had, make no mistake. But the fact that they followed him into his relationship with you made things… difficult at times.

Nevertheless, when he sidled up behind you, his body heavy, shoulders slumped and arms encompassing your form, you read him like a cave drawing: plain to see, easier to interpret.

You’d swaddle him in your arms, your duvets, your love, and in turn he’d cage you with his limbs, his body, his strength.

In a way, he was your coffin; your final resting place in life and the hereafter, and he let you know as much with the cushioning of his muscles beneath his shirt, the silken padding of your bed of eternal rest.

You’re not going anywhere is what he said, all without saying it.

And you affirmed as much when you pressed the tip of your nose to the pulsepoint below his jaw, gifting a kiss to the skin beneath it.

“I’ll always be with you, Simon; for infinity plus one,” you’d tell him, over and over, as many times as he wanted – needed – to hear it.

Simon would look down at you, his eyes dark and filled with nothing but the need for you.

He’d pull you into his chest, where you’d hear his heart pounding, hammering, the scaffolding of his love, constantly growing, advancing. Heightening.

“I know, Angel,” he says, laying circles into your back. “And I’ll always be here to protect you. Just as you have me.” He takes a deep breath, filling himself with your scent. “For infinity plus two.”

König

Oh, THIS–

Absolute behemoth of a man is babey for cuddles.

Fr though, he’ll just be so mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted that the only thing that can heal him is your loving touch.

He’ll literally stand half-hidden behind the doorway like that buff teddy bear meme, looking at you with wide, pleading eyes with his hands like 👉👈.

Poor guy looks like he’s on the verge of tears.

He’s not, don’t worry! That’s just the fatigue catching up with him.

And whenever he gives you those eyes, you just can’t say no.

You bring him to bed and wrap him up in your softest, warmest blankets.

You have found König wrapped up in your clothes, your towels, your curtains many times before. And, after he caught you catching him, he admitted that he did it because they smelled like you.

From then on, you have a special, secret blanket just for König which you douse in your signature scent once every few weeks or so, keeping it hidden in a cupboard where it can’t be found by any other smell or person.

And you drape it over König, making sure he’s safe and snuggled and secure before you cuddle up to him, consumed by a mass of blankets and, of course, your boyfriend.

And he just rests there, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you so close to him that you could very well be the same person.

He’s massive, he’s radiating heat constantly, encompassing you in himself.

He tries burying you inside him, it seems, keeping you so close to him as though he knew something – knew he was going to lose you somehow.

And all the while, you’re threading your fingers through his hair, petting it, stroking it, telling him how loved he is, how you’ll always be here for him, and how lucky you are to have him. Calling him your “Big boy. My big, sweet boy,”

His chest purrs, his grip around you tightens, braiding your souls together with the golden hair of a wedding band.

And, his face buried in your hair, taking in the lifeline that is your scent, König whispers, to you, and to no-one else:

“Not as fortunate as I, my Love.”

Alejandro

Unlike Ghost and König, Alejandro tells you when he wants cuddles.

Unless he’s feeling particularly raw or traumatised, what with his profession and all, in which case he’ll put his hand atop yours and squeeze it, tightly, while facing ahead, not looking at you.

Those requests for cuddles are few and far between, but they usually lead to an evening spent entirely in Alejandro’s arms as he slowly, tricklingly, reveals what has damaged him so.

And you listen, and listen, and listen, one hand carding through his hair, the other holding his shaking shoulders, soothing him with your massages.

His head always rests on your chest, and, occasionally, he’ll bear his face into your shirt, pressing his confessions into the fabric.

“Oh, Darling,” you tell him, every time. “You do everything you can, you save lives every day – including mine.”

He pulls away, looks up into your eyes with dark glass irises and, every time, cups your cheek with his hand.

“And I always will, mi Amor,” he tells you. His kiss lands on your lips, and another confession slips out as he pulls away, his forehead resting against your chin.

“No matter the cost, no matter the toll, I will always find you. I will always save you, just as you saved me.”

Soap

Snuggles with Johnny usually end up culminating in…something else.

His sunny disposition, even after a heavy mission away, belies that which haunts him – that which he tries to suppress.

On the rare occasion that he’s not in high spirits, he’ll be very quiet, hardly talking at all as he merely exists around you, his warmth and humour devoid from his body.

And you seek him out, placing your head upon his shoulder and asking, in the slightest of voices: “Do you need me?”

He does.

He needs you more than anything else – anyone else.

You drape him with your body, slipping your arms around his shoulders and pulling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath, his stubble, tickles your skin.

You latch onto him, tumourous in your resolve yet anything but malignant in your aim.

You want to bury your love in his veins, let him feel how he makes you feel, and become that for him.

He always sighs into your shoulder, your neck, and takes a second before he’ll encapsulate you in his arms, keeping you in his lap and tethering you to him by the bottom of your back.

You chant your reassurances, whispering them into his ear – a sleeper agent’s trigger words; a message to bring forth the soldier from within.

“You did so well, Johnny,” you tell him, meaning every word. “There’s no sum of money in all the universe that can compensate for all that you’ve done.”

You feel Johnny twitch, a precursor to something familiar to you. You hold him tighter, pull him closer. He stuffs his face further into the material of your shirt.

“But…” The word is a dagger between the folds of your heart. You can only imagine how it feels lodged in Johnny’s mind. A lifelong migraine.

“But what if I’d gotten there sooner?” His voice cracks. You feel his shoulders shake. You try to stabilise him, to keep him from quivering by encompassing more of his broad frame.

“You couldn’t have known, John-John; I promise you that.”

Your word was gospel in this house; whatever you said, Johnny believed.

“And even if by some sort of miracle you had gotten there earlier,” you pull back, Johnny reluctantly following in your example, and take his face in your hands. You wipe a tear away with your thumb.

“You probably wouldn’t have been able to return.”

The prospect made your heart jump up into your throat, much as you could see it stir something in Johnny.

He nestles further into you.

“And what would I do without my favourite soldier?”

You feel Johnny sigh, his body untensing, sinking into yours.

“The real question is what would I do without you?” His voice is gruff, easing off into what you recognise as exhaustion.

You rubbed his back, pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck.

“We’ll never know,” you told him, smiling. You feel his cheek shift against your skin and you knew he was smiling, too.

“Let’s get you to bed. You deserve a rest.”

“Oh?” says Johnny. “Is that all?”

“Oh, behave,” you give him a chuckle, a light pat - a lacklustre attempt at a smack.

Like I said, cuddles with Johnny usually end up as something more.

Price

Absolute bear of a man in both disposition and habit.

Practically holds you hostage when you cuddle with how he has a log of a leg hooked over your waist, his arms pulling you so close to his chest that you may well be the shirt he’s wearing.

Loves whispering in your ear when you’re like this – tells you how much he loves you, how you make everything feel okay when he comes home from a mission; all the wonderful things he thinks of you, he tells you.

He knows life’s far too short to let certain things go unsaid, and his undying love for you is one of them.

Whenever he’s feeling exhausted or just done with it all, he comes up behind you and wraps his arms across your front from behind, pressing a long, humming kiss to the back of your head.

“I need you, Love,” he’ll say, voice laced with the primal need to just rest. And he can’t do that if you’re not with him.

He has a sensitive scalp, which is why he always wears the hat when he’s on missions. When he’s alone with you, however, he bids you a silent request to touch him, feel him, care for him.

And you do; you rest his head upon your chest and slip silken fingers between his short strands, making sure to drag your nails up the nape of his neck and send shivers through him.

He adores falling asleep on you like this, though he will apologise for it after, knowing how much heavier he is than you.

But you never complain, only indulge him as he subjects himself to this heaven-sent cycle again and again.

He calls you his “angel”, his “master’s masterpiece.” (nice Duchess of Malfi reference for my fellow literature enjoyers)

And he truly believes it – that you are the work of some higher being, too perfect for the likes of this world, of him.

You always tell him how lucky you are to have found him, half jestful as you reassure him how “Eternal life would simply be survival, not living, if it is without you, my Love.”

Gaz

Has to be facing you whenever you cuddle.

This is not up for negotiation.

Will stare into your eyes like 🥺 whenever you’re snuggling.

He LOVES holding your hands; he brings them to his chest and presses the flat of your palms to his skin.

And when you hear his heart beating, he gives a shy smile and says: “This heart beats only for you.”

“So…what you’re saying is that you’re dead all the time except for when you’re with me?”

“...That’s… a little less romantic than my ‘I’m only alive when I’m with you’ line, but yeah, you’re right.”

Initiates cuddles 99.99% of the time, only because he won’t let you have the chance to initiate them first.

Beats you to it every single time.

Most of the time when he initiates, he’s rather playful and just wants to feel you near him and tell you what he did today :-).

But sometimes, very occasionally, he’ll come to you, a wounded puppy of a man, with a story.

It is one with no happy ending, only a wish for reprievement.

Whenever and wherever Gaz needs you, you’re there, soaking up his anxieties as your own and trying to find a solution.

You usually just let him talk until he’s tired himself out or there’s nothing left to say, upon which you offer yourself and every conceivable way you could be of service.

You try to heal him however you can, bringing him food, making sure he rests, talking him through his feeling whenever he wants.

“I don’t know how you do it, Love,” he tells you, head lolling against the backrest of the sofa. “I don’t know how you’re always so calm, so collected,”

You offer him a smile and a plate of warm, freshly-baked biscuits.

“Time and practice, my Dear,” you tell him.

He feels bad for putting on you, but you always chase his worries away, reassuring him that the day you stop listening to him is the day you’ve been replaced with a robot.

When you cuddle and he’s feeling vulnerable, he’ll tuck his head into your chest, and you wrap him up in a blanket, blocking out the light – any form of external stimulation – to help him calm down or drift off to sleep.

He genuinely doesn’t know what he’d do without you.

And he tells you as much when he wakes up in your arms.

He presses butterfly kisses to your jaw until your eyes flutter open like wings.

He doesn’t even say ‘good morning’; he wastes no time when it comes to you.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he says. He squeezes you. “I don’t want to be without you – not like I used to be,”

And you smile at him, like you always do, and lean in, planting a kiss between his eyes, the top of the bridge of his nose.

“Neither do I, Love,” you say. “And you never will be.”

Valeria

Always the big spoon.

Regardless of how she’s feeling, how tall you are, what time of the day it is, she is always going to be the one administering the cuddles.

She uses you as something of a stress ball when she’s feeling antsy, anxious, or even fearful.

It’s extremely rare for her to verbalise her feelings - particularly the negative ones, the ones she perceives as ‘weakness’.

But she has placed all her trust in you; something people have died trying to take and protect.

Whenever she’s stressed, you can feel it in how rigid her shoulders are, how tightly she wraps herself around you, how her heart pounds against your back.

You never draw attention to it – you know how sensitive Valeria gets about her feelings, trying to hide them constantly, so you just hold her hands in yours, against your chest, drawing circles against her knuckles and her veins, writing a love story.

“I’ll never let you go, you know,” Valeria says, often enough that it is no longer a cause for concern for you, rather a future upon which you rely, look forward to. And you smile, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand so she can feel it. Her heart stutters.

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.”

And she means it.

You know – you can tell in the way she pulls you ever closer, tightly packed together as if confined to the same coffin.

You know her – her lifestyle – will be your downfall, one way or another.

Whether you or she dies first is a mystery, but regardless of the outcome, you know Valeria would sacrifice everything of herself to keep it from becoming so.

You try to turn, but Valeria keeps you facing away.

A moment’s confusion passes, chased away by realisation as you feel Valeria shaking against you, something wet and warm dripping onto the back of your neck.

You cast your eyes down and, gently, bring Valeria’s knuckles back to your lips.

“And what about me?” you say. “What if I leave you? Will you kill me?”

Something crosses Valeria’s eyes, dancing behind them. A relative of hurt, a friend of doubt, a parent of fear.

She turns you onto your back and, bringing a hand to your cheek and cupping it, presses her lips to yours.

It is soft and minimal, lasting a fraction of what it wanted to.

Valeria withdraws, pressing her forehead to yours, her eyes piercing.

“Never.” She says.

And she means it.

Rodolfo

Hold him tight P L E A S E–

He lives for your embrace, and anything you offer him will remain Flex Taped to the back of his mind for the rest of his life.

Especially if you’re consoling him.

Man just wants to feel safe and warm and loved.

His absolute favourite position is when you’re wrapped in each other’s arms, heads upon the other’s shoulder, snuggled so impossibly close that Rodolfo’s blood is practically running through your veins.

Call him your “Sweet lil’ guy” and he’s g o n e.

Melts into your touch and inhales your scent; oxygen to the lungs of a man starved of reprieve.

It’s at times like these when he’s at his most sincere.

Will tell you anything and everything that crosses his mind; his hopes, his dreams, his fears.

And you’re always there to chase away his anxieties and nurture his desire to achieve all that he wants to achieve.

Sometimes, when he pulls away, there are tears in his eyes, glistening.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, mi Vida,” he whispers, as if he’s afraid that the Universe will hear him and take you from him.

You can only smile, feeling the urge to cry choke your throat.

“And you’ll never need to know,” you tell him. “There will never be a day where I won’t be with you–” you kiss the tears running down his cheeks, “whether my body persists in this realm or not.”

Graves

UUUUUUGH

Horny to the MAX

You could be having the most wholesome conversation in the world and Phil will just hit you with the bedroom eyes and a boner and you’ll just look at him like 😑.

Whether or not you oblige him is up to you, but he’ll likely pester you (politely) until you do.

Aside from that, however, Graves doesn’t seem the type to know how to cuddle properly.

You see, there’s an art to the cuddle - it is a craft.

And Graves has only ever had brief encounters with people under the cover of night; flings, one night stands – so he’s never had the pleasure of getting to know someone enough to cuddle them.

So that makes you his first 😃 !!!

Since you have his cuddle virginity in your hands, you’re going to have to ease him into it.

He’ll definitely whine at first – keep saying stuff like “It’s too hot,” or “I’m booored,” but eventually, you’ll find a position for him which he seems to like.

Loves being the little spoon. No argument.

Given how he’s a CEO and has a pretty hectic job, he enjoys a change in position and likes giving you the power (though he’d never frame it as that; he’d just say that he’s being your pillow so you can lean against something as you rest; ever the gentleman he is).

His favourite position is you behind him, your leg wrapped around his waist, keeping him pinned to the bed.

Pleeeease scratch his back for him, he’s really ticklish there and has never been touched so softly before.

If you whisper phrases of affirmation or praise into his ear, he’s dead.

Done for.

Not coming back.

He swears he falls deeper in love with you every time you hold him close.

He’s kind of a switch, so he’s definitely up for being the big spoon on occasion – especially if you’re feeling vulnerable or you want to be protected.

When he thinks you’re asleep, he leans in close to your ear and says something he’s never said to anyone before.

“I love you.”

Unbeknownst to him, you’re awake, trying to contain the excitement bursting from your chest as you resist the urge to turn around and lock him in your embrace, if only to spare him the embarrassment of one of the few times he expresses his emotions being sullied by you breaking his nose with yours as you launch at him for a kiss.

In another cuddle session, maybe a day or two later, you whisper to him: “I love you, too.”

He’ll be mortified, and you may or may not be able to see his face shift from that of a cosy cat to a tiger who’s just inhaled a lemon. Frightened and unsuspecting.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Second Circle Of Hell - Osferth (The Last Kingdom)

I got this idea while I was in church...because my pastor is kinda good looking...cough. i'm such a sinner, i must corrupt the babey

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), dubcon, femdom (mostly), corruption kink, innocence kink, virginity loss, religious conflict, religious guilt (not me projecting🙈), think that's it?

2.9K Words🤙🏻

Ever since pious and devout Christian monk Osferth joined the party of Uhtred, you've had your eye on him in deep intrigue.

The young man seemed so innocent, too innocent. You often wondered what dirty secrets he could be hiding.

Now, you may have just been a lecherous heathen that everyone who wasn’t a Dane said you were. You were practically a whore in your own right, so maybe anyone who acted relatively kind was innocent to you.

You never shied away from being yourself, especially in front of your group of men. Perhaps it was the way you were raised. You had no trouble changing in front of people, knowing that you could protect yourself if any of them would be stupid enough to make a move. Uhtred had already made that mistake once, but he never did it again after you put your dagger to his balls. You also never feared to bathe near the group, plus it was safer than going off on your own and you didn’t care if they saw you. You loved making your boys uncomfortable as well.

A memory that always stuck with you is when you were bathing in a river one day and Osferth accidentally saw you. He spoke apology after apology until his face turned beet red, but all you did was laugh. You had asked him for your clothes but he handed them to you with his eyes closed. That was the only moment when you were disappointed a man didn’t try to take advantage of you for once.

There was a day in Winchester where you, Finan, and Osferth were sitting outside a tavern. You could see how nervous and shy the boy was around women, and then Finan said it. He joked that Osferth was a virgin. He did that thing where he denied it so much that it must’ve been true, and that’s what you had your idea. You knew you’d want to be the one to deflower him, lest Finan actually bought him a whore one day like he said he would. No, you wanted to claim him for yourself. You just had to find the right moment.

Thankfully, there came a time when Uhtred had asked you and Osferth to spy on a Danish camp. It would be dangerous obviously, but you couldn’t help but celebrate in your mind when you realized the two of you would finally be alone together. It looked like Osferth was just happy he was being trusted with such an important task, although you would be there too.

You both set up camp a good distance away from the Danes’ campsite, some ways deep into the woods, making sure there would be no way they could spot you or hear you. You watched them all day, returning to your own campsite as the sun started to set. The trees blocking the light of the moon that you had to build a campfire to see as well as keep warm. But, you soon started thinking of other ways you could keep warm.

Osferth was nervous, you could tell. He didn’t look you in the eyes unless he had to. He probably would have preferred to go on this mission with Finan or Sihtric, but he had to deal with you alone now.

You tried your best to make conversation, but it never lasted more than a few sentences. It was frustrating. So, you did what you usually do best: make people uncomfortable.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” You asked suddenly, amused at the way Osferth immediately went wide-eyed and a wild blush coming to his cheeks. “I heard what Finan said at that tavern the other day, you seemed flustered as you are now.” He stuttered, no full words leaving his mouth due to your boldness. It gave you your answer. “So, I suppose Finan was right. You are a virgin.” You smirked teasingly.

Osferth finally quit his stuttering and sighed in defeat. “So what if I was?”

“You are a handsome lad, surely there have been offers from women before?”

“I mean…yes. Some.”

“And you never thought to take up those offers?”

He looked down in embarrassment. “It’s not like I didn’t want to, it’s just. I dunno, I feel like I wouldn’t want my first time to be with a stranger. Someone I don’t care about or know.”

“So would you hump someone you cared about?”

“When we were married, I suppose.”

You scoffed. “Why wait till marriage?”

“Because it’s a sin to be with someone before marriage, that’s what the Scripture says.”

“And what if you never get married?” You asked with an exasperated chuckle.

“Then I guess I’ll always be a virgin…” He shrugged, “Do you think me less of a man, my Lady?”

You shook your head with a smile. “No. I’m actually kinda glad you are.” He furrowed his brows in confusion, not understanding what you meant. “Because I wish to be the one to deflower you.” As if he couldn’t get any redder, he managed to do so, especially when you moved closer to him so you sat right beside him. He blinked a few times in shock, holding the cross attached to his necklace tightly.

“My Lady, I-I just told you, I can’t.”

You snickered. “Of course you can. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Osferth. I saw how your cock swelled when you saw me naked in the river that day. Did you even relieve yourself afterwards?” He stayed silent, and you hummed in disapproval. “What? Is it a sin to make yourself come too?” He nodded curtly and you rolled your eyes, placing your hand on his knee, slowly trailing up his thigh until he pushed you away and stood up from his spot on the ground.

“Stop. I made a vow, to myself and to God.”

You frowned. “Do you not like me?” And you tried to hide your smile as he immediately assured you that was not the case. You stood up and reached for him cautiously, seeing his internal struggle. “You’ve killed, betrayed your country, your home. Do you think breaking a simple vow will be any worse than all that, hm?”

“I never wanted to kill anyone.” He whispered, allowing you to run your hands up his chest and wrap around his shoulders.

“Then maybe you shouldn't have joined up with a group of heathens.” He was such a sheltered man, you wanted him to experience all he could. You wanted him to be with someone he knew and cared about, you weren’t going to let him be with some whore or stranger. He was looking down at you with confliction, eyes traveling from your own to your lips. You knew what he wanted, you just had to give him a little push.

Osferth let out a surprised hum when you pressed your lips against his without another word, catching him off guard so that he couldn’t reject your advances right away. But even as you kept kissing him, he never made a move to push you away nor did he intensify the kiss in any way. You tangled your fingers in his short hair, pulling hard enough that he gasped, allowing you to deepen the kiss. You smirked as he let out a breathy moan, you could already feel his hard on pressing against you. Your tongues touched briefly, but it seemed that shook him back into focus as he jolted away, his back turned to you. “You shouldn’t have done that, my Lady…” You heard him whisper shakily, you could see his hands trembling at his sides.

You said nothing as you walked to stand in front of him again, his innocent pleading eyes looking up at you, silently begging for you not to continue. But you did not listen, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs would not let you. “Please, Osferth…I can make you feel good.” You kissed his cheek cautiously, kissing all over his face until there was one spot left. He leaned in to kiss you himself this time, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing you against him tightly. You could feel a wetness on his face and you pulled back to see that he was crying.

“God, I want you so bad, I do.” He sniffled. “It hurts.” He winced.

“Then let me make the pain go away.” You cooed, removing your clothes until you were bare to the elements of Wessex. You shuddered as the wind hardened your nipples and cooled the slick that was already gathering at your cunt. Osferth moaned at the sight of you, not looking away this time like he did at the river. “Touch me.” You commanded softly, gently bringing one of his hands to cup your supple breasts. He squeezed them experimentally, looking to see if it brought you any discomfort, but it did quite the opposite. “I need you, Osferth.” You kissed him again passionately, your limbs going shaky as you felt desire overcome you.

He wordlessly allowed you to strip him naked, saying a silent prayer in his mind as his stiff cock was finally freed of its confines. You brought him to the ground, where you had laid furs for the night, seeing him look up at you on his back made you drool.

“Please,” Osferth begged, his cock already throbbing and you hadn’t even done anything but whisper your enchanting words in his ears. “don’t make me break my vow…”

“Shh, it’s okay. Just relax for me.” You whispered, throwing your leg over his waist, straddling him. Your pussy was already slick with anticipation of his sweet corruption. You could only imagine how pretty his lewd moans would sound.

Osferth hissed as you took his cock in your hand, rubbing the tip in between in your folds before lining him up with your entrance. You both moaned loudly as you sunk down on him, he stretched you out more than you anticipated. “Gods, you’re bigger than you look.” You whispered breathily.

“Am I hurting you?” He panicked instantly, but you simply smiled and shook your head. Such a sweet gentleman. You were so warm and wet, your walls clenching around him due to the intrusion, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t feel so damn good; like heaven on earth. “Oh, my Lord God, have mercy on my soul…” He begged as he clutched his cross in his hand tightly as you grinded down on him. He looked up at you in awe as if you were an angel, he could practically see your halo as he suddenly came.

You giggled as he filled you up, watching as his eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his mouth opened wide as he let out a long, pained moan. “That was quick. Was it that good?” You smirked, loving the way his face flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, my Lady.” He stuttered, but you silenced him with a kiss.

“Don’t be.”

Osferth’s eyes filled with tears, the light from the campfire making his piercing blue eyes shine as he stared at the cross in his hand. “What have I done, Lord?” He whimpered pitifully, and you almost felt sorry for him if it wasn’t for the fact that he was still rock hard inside your cunt.

“Ready to go again so soon?” You chuckled darkly, moving your hips back and forth, causing him to let out a whine.

“No, don’t, not again-”

“You’ve already broken your vow, sweet monk. What more harm could you do now?” He looked up at you with a remorseful expression, the weight of what he had done heavy on his chest. You slowly lifted yourself off, slamming back down on him to elicit a cry from his soft lips. “So sensitive. But I suppose since I got what I wanted, I can stop-”

“No!” Osferth interrupted, surprising himself and you. He looked entirely conflicted as he placed his shaking hands on your hips, keeping you in place and not allowing you to remove himself from you. “No…you’re right. I’ve broken my vow. I can’t change that now. I suppose...I can enjoy this?”

“Yes, sweet baby monk. Let yourself enjoy this. Indulge in the feeling of me.” You moaned, continuing to rock your hips, a gasp escaping your lips as your clit brushed up against his pelvis as the head of his cock started to rub up against that sensitive spot inside you that always made you see stars. “Gods, you’re perfect. I wish we had done this sooner.” Osferth moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside you and making butterflies swirl in his stomach. You raked your nails down his bare chest, hearing soft whimpers escaping his mouth as you rode him. “How does it feel?” You asked, struggling to keep in your high pitched moans.

“Good, my Lady.” He stuttered. “So good.” You moaned as Osferth started to buck up into you, losing himself in his own pleasure and making you feel amazing in return. “Does it always feel so heavenly?” He groaned, tightening his grip on your hips, the dull pain making a shock of euphoria reverberate through your entire body for a split second.

“No, not for women at least.”

“Is…is there anything I can do to make it feel good for you too?” He asked innocently, but his eyes expressed something else, a slight darkness to them, his pupils so blown out you could barely see his bright blue irises anymore.

You grinned as you took one of his hands off your hip, bringing it to your cunt. “Rub circles with your thumb right here.” You guided him to your clit, even what little pressure he put had your head reeling.

“Like this, my Lady?” 

“A bit more pressure.” You cried out as he listened to your instructions diligently. “Yes, yes, gods, just like that.” Osferth smiled proudly, helping you ride him as he rubbed your clit attentively. You threw your head back as you were nearing your own peak, the man beneath you learning faster than anyone else you’ve ever been with. “Such a good boy.” You whined, your hands grasping and scratching at your tits.

You squeaked as Osferth suddenly flipped you over onto your back, knocking the breath from your lungs as he pounded into you with abandon. Like a switch finally flipped inside him, he was taking pleasure for himself, finding confidence just like he found the courage to fight and kill alongside everyone on Uhtred’s team. You hoped you had created a monster. The way he was fucking into you, if you didn’t know he had only been a virgin half an hour ago, you would have believed he had experience beyond your years. He still had the decency to continue caring for your sensitive nub, forcing your body into overdrive as you kept climbing and climbing to reach that peak. Now you were the one whining and whimpering, how the tables turned.

With his cock continuously hitting that special spot inside of you and your stimulated clit, accompanied by the sound of Osferth’s skin slapping against yours wetly along with his soft moans in your ear, you felt that intense ecstasy you had been craving wash over you like a tidal wave. You prayed to the gods that the Dane’s camp, however many miles away, would not be able to hear your loud strained moan as you came. “Gods, Osferth!” You cried out, your hands holding onto his shoulder with a vice grip that would surely leave bruises just like he must’ve done to your hips.

“Christ-!” Osferth groaned, gripping one of your breasts as he fucked a second load into you, his vision going blurry as his second orgasm was much more powerful than the first. It was too much and not enough, all he could do was ride it out until the feeling went away. 

When it seemed he came back to your realm, you were looking up at him with a proud grin. He couldn’t help but grin back, the afterglow making him dazed and giddy. “You made me come, sweet Osferth. Not many people have achieved such a feat.” 

“I don’t believe you, my Lady.” He smiled, pulling out of you with a hiss and laying down beside you. It was true, but even if it wasn’t, you still wanted to stroke his ego just to see the blush on his face. “Now I understand why some take a vow of celibacy.”

You giggled, turning to lay on your stomach, resting on your elbows. “Why?”

“Because I think I could worship you now, and the Scripture says that you shall not have any gods before Him.” He smirked boyishly, trailing his pointer finger across your jawline, stopping his path to rest the finger on your bottom lip.

You gently kissed the tip of his finger, his eyes watching you intently. “As much as it might be fun to be worshiped, I have no intention to steal you away from your god.”

“You already have, my Lady.” 

Needless to say, your mission for Uhtred went well. You managed to signal the rest of the group when the Danes were off guard, slaughtering everyone you all could before they retreated. And your recent lover Osferth had just the way to celebrate the newest victory.

i am such a heathen, something me and Uhtred have in common i guess

[crescentfool]

What are your ryomina headcanons? I've loved these two since I played P3 FES, and I'm so excited to get back into the fandom^^

hi!! thank you so much for the ask, welcome back to the p3 fandom, it's always a delight to see new and old ryomina fans alike! 🥺💛💙

as for headcanons, here's a "few" i that i tend to come back to a lot! my interpretations of them are influenced from both the source material and other's fanworks, so i've linked to them as i saw fit! hcs in no particular order under the cut because oops this got long (900 word bullet point list, mentions of reload content up to 1/1)

minato's hair is dyed blue (hair originally brown, you can see it in his roots!) and he has a beauty mark on under his left eye. i like mirror imagery and there's definitely a few arts i've rb'd that portray them this way :) (e.g. this one by feliichu and this one by marasschino)

as far as i'm concerned the bathhouse scene from the manga where ryoji's hair down = similar shape to minato? that is canon to me. this art from xierru is a fun depiction of hair down ryoji :D

ryoji is homeless. everyone say thank you foxmulder_whereartthou for this awesome fic it's why i have the headcanon! but like seriously. we have no idea where ryoji lives and i could believe this.

minato dying at the end of the game is sad to an outsider's POV BUT!!! ryomina gets to be together in death for the rest of their lives (this illustration from mafuwara is a gorgeous representation of them as nyx avatar + the seal)!

speaking of the seal, they are like telepathically communicating to me in the great seal together. (mymp3 had a comic wip with this. give it a looksie :D)

ryoji likes cuddling with minato because he's warm :) (something something orpheus has fire affinity, minato is warm by extension and ryoji is cold because he's death)

ryoji's camera roll is filled with pictures of minato! ryoji... loves life, to me. and i feel that photography and journaling are perfect ways of expressing gratitude and capturing the moments in life that are most important to you :3

my other favorite activity for these two is stargazing- i feel like it's something they could appreciate either in life or death (looking at the stars from the great seal...)! they do a bit of this in the fic eurydice's vow by crescentmoontea (P5R spoilers, takes place in third sem it's a very fun fic concept).

between ryoji and minato i feel like ryoji was the one who fell in love first- and it doesn't really click in place for minato that he loves ryoji until december hits (appriser reveal + ryoji transforming into thanatos). its about the realization that ryoji was with him for his whole life and that he gets him like no one else does.

ryoji is like a sad and wet puppy who is so scared minato won't like him back. he is so scared of being rejected by minato to me like. this boy straight up deflates after he does his "i know i said i wanted us to be friends, but... i actually want to be something more." / "what about you?" on 12/1 ???

AND SPEAKING of wet puppy ryoji. ryoji is like. every animal in the world to me. he's a bird. he's a cat. etc. and also ryoji knows every language in the world ever and uses it to express his love for minato. see this fic from superheroics to see what i mean.

both of them are lactose intolerant. "this isn't lactose, it's milk!" i definitely think ryoji would make himself sick eating ice cream and milk he doesn't know what lactose is. (i made a silly poll about this once and the tags were very entertaining.)

i see minato as transmasc or nonbinary depending on the day (schrodinger's headcanons babey they're simultaneously true and not true at the same time!!). either way he's not cis to me and ryoji is like. His Gender. anyway go read this fic by nail_gun for t4t ryomina :D !

ryomina are WEIRD GUYS TO ME!!! they are so strange and they understand each other better than anyone else because of the circumstances of their relationship!!! if you asked them to do the "i wonder what i taste like" meme i think they'd start biting each other (affectionate) tbh but that's just me.

after ryoji gives minato the music box in 12/31 on reload, minato listens to the music box every night in january. this boy has insomnia and also chronic illness to me (things that housing death does to you). but i think he finds comfort in the melody and memories he made with ryoji.

in general, i think it's fun to imagine minato taking ryoji to places and show him things he's interested in! i feel that ryoji takes a lot of interest in minato's life, this isn't really a hc because in reload, minato DOES give ryoji a tour of the school (11/9) and possibly port island (11/12). but ITS CUTE OK! (tangentially related fanwork: this series of doodles from vinnigami: 1, 2, and 3)

not a hc but minato's kindness is like the backbone of their relationship and i think we would not have the ryomina we know and love today if minato wasn't such a kind soul. oh minato.... we can learn so much from you... like ryoji did!

anyway! that's all the hcs that i could think of, thank you for the ask! i had a lot of fun answering this, these two mean a lot to me 💛💙

i hope you don't mind the links to the fanart and fanfic as well, the fanwork people have made for ryomina have really made an imprint on me! if you want to see more of them, i definitely recommend looking through my tag for them because oh. i got a lot of them reblogged alright 😂 (<- SOOO NORMAL)