#pda prompt

[alanide-arts]

Can I kiss Dippy a lot

[absurdumsid]

horrordust !! i think this is the second time ive drawn horrordust sharing an umbrella lmao

[palossssssand]

late night doodles to wind down

[paperultra]

space cadet.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 831 words Warnings: None

reverie (noun): a state of being pleasantly lost in one's thoughts; a daydream

You imagine the thoughts in your head as a forest of kelp at the bottom of the sea: dense, beautiful, brimming with life and all too easy to get lost in.

They’ve caused you trouble in the past. Countless rapped knuckles, letters sent home to your parents, walking into trees on the way home from school. But how could you resist? Empires rose and fell over the course of an hour inside your mind, mighty beasts swore their allegiance to you and the four seas were yours to explore. The childhood you had in the real world was so dull and lonely in comparison.

When you ran off and joined the Straw Hats, you finally had the excitement you had so craved. And yet, even now, your mind still wanders.

“If you swab the deck any more, we won’t have any left, sweetheart.”

Only a select few can bring you back.

You blink rapidly, the clouds dissipating as you stop scrubbing and look up. Sanji’s already smiling when you meet his gaze.

He lifts his hands; one offers a plate of shortbread cookies, the other a glass of milk.

“I’m going to guess that you haven’t had a break in a while,” he says. “Am I right?”

A break? Sending him a perplexed frown, you lean on the handle of your scrub brush and glance over your shoulder.

The side on which you had started winks back at you from afar, wood gleaming under the afternoon sun.

Oh.

“I … I guess so,” you reply slowly, turning back to him. It’s only then that you register the saltwater washing over your feet and the ache in your muscles. “I didn’t even realize …”

He shakes his head and chuckles, leading you to some nearby crates to sit down. “Too caught up in your stories again? I’m almost jealous that they get to spend so much time with you.”

“I don’t mean to make you worry.”

“Loving someone means worrying about them from time to time.”

He winks, and you smile, flustered.

“I see,” you say quietly. “Then thank you for worrying, Sanji.”

“Of course.” He hands you the glass of milk, then picks up a cookie and taps it against your lips. “Now, this is my best batch of sablés. You have no idea how hard it was to keep Luffy from eating them all in the kitchen.”

“I have some idea,” you drawl amusedly, taking a bite.

The cookie breaks with a gentle snap. It crumbles delightfully in your mouth, sugar and butter dancing on your tongue. A pleased hum rumbles in your throat before you wash it down with a gulp of cold milk.

“What do you think?”

“I think I might eat the whole plate right now,” you say, taking the other half of the cookie.

He grins. “So you like them.”

“They’re delicious.” Picking up another one, you hold it in front of his face. “Here.”

Sanji’s gaze remains locked with yours as he leans forward to take a bite of the cookie, his lips brushing your fingertips in an impromptu kiss before he pulls away. He chews thoughtfully. The action should not look as good as it does.

“My best batch, as I’ve said,” he tells you once he swallows. “But I’ve tasted sweeter.”

You tilt your head. “Where?”

His mouth curls into a smirk, and he places his fingers under your chin to bring your face closer to his. Your noses touch and you can feel his answer against your lips as he murmurs, “Right here.”

The rest of the crew may also have the pleasure of eating Sanji’s food, but they do not share your privilege of knowing just how talented he is at kissing.

He sets down the plate and lifts his hand to cup your jaw, meeting your lips and letting out a soft sigh before pressing his lips more fervently against yours. You can taste the smoke on his tongue, a constant underneath the warm sweetness of sugar and the saltiness of butter. Your eyes flutter closed, and you reach up to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly. The groan he lets out sends tingles down to the tips of your toes.

“Sweetheart,” he pants, and the longing in his voice would’ve made your knees buckle if you were standing, “I won’t be able to stop if you keep doing that.”

You put your glass of milk down so you can bury both hands in his golden hair. Your forehead touches his. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe it is,” he mutters.

You bring him back in for another searing kiss that Sanji returns just as eagerly.

Yes, you value your time alone with your thoughts. They are a forest of kelp at the bottom of the sea, beautiful, countless, and wild.

But as easy as it is to get lost in your thoughts, it is infinitely easier to get lost in him.

[fireflysugarpie]

cumplane au but they both keep accidentally dom-ing each other

[antlerkitty]

Having PDA is so fucking annoying. You're telling me that I have the "Can't Do Anything That's Asked of Me" subtype of "Needs Active Prompting to Complete Most Tasks" disorder???

[mindtrove]

Kiss Roulette Prompts

31. A kiss while someone watches

Oh another one.

This time starring Moro and Solas

From the Kiss Roulette Prompt Meme

It was still a difficult time for the last two surviving members of Clan Lavellan. Ramia was still apprehensive around the humans of Skyhold. If not for Solas, Sera or Harding’s presence, she would be resolute in remaining within her mother’s chambers. 

Moro had refused to allow the girl out of her sight for weeks. But she was Inquisitor, and she could not put off her duties forever. 

So they had a system between herself and Solas. One of them must always remain at Skyhold until her daughter could find her own courage and peace in what was now their new home. 

Solas stood by the entrance gate of the grand fortress. Ramia was still fast asleep, the sun only beginning to peek over the horizon. The bustle of Skyhold was not quite yet beginning, so from afar he was able to make out the sight of Moro, Varric, Blackwall and Dorian as they approached. 

While he was not always a part of all her excursions, this particular journey to far west of Orlais would have her gone for some time. 

Solas smiles as she approaches, she is surprised to see him and immediately she meets his smile with concern. 

“I simply wished to see you off.” He explains.

“Ah, right,” she allows him to adjust a loose buckle. She speaks in a hushed tone, not necessarily to be secretive but to simply not draw too much attention.

“You will seek me out in dreams if anything happens.”

“Of course.”

“Use the lavender before it dulls.”

“I will.”

“And eat.”

“I do eat Vhenan.”

“Toast is not dinner.”

“Agree to disagree.”

This goes on for a few more minutes before an awkward silence falls over them. Neither moves, both become very much aware of the scrutinising gaze of their fellow companions who watch with delightful curiosity. 

To say Moro and Solas were subtle about the nature of their relationship would have been an understatement. Public displays of affection were avoided like the plague, reclusive and so guarded as Moro was when it came to matters of her heart. 

Moro awkwardly clears her throat, gestures for the others to follow as they make their way out the gate. Everyone seems to have some measure of disappointment on their face. 

Just before Moro passes the threshold she stops, puts her glaive down against the gate door and turns back the way they had come. Her hand gently turns at the bend of Solas’ elbow, redirecting his attention to her as a very quick, very chaste kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth. 

Solas is all smiles, a slight pink hue to his ears the only indication of the kiss having any effect on him. Moro for her part is all flushed, more so when the chuckling of her traveling companions is not too far along after the simple and brief kiss goodbye. She glares at them all, but it does little to quell their amusement.

Solas does not waste this opportunity, twirls his finger around at the group, a gesture to face away from the couple with which they comply with cheeky grins. With the sufficient privacy, Solas takes Moro’s face in his hands, and drinks deep of her. It takes all his willpower to not further the kiss into something that will leave them both even more wanting, his thumb strokes at her scar along her jaw, breaking the kiss only to reach back in one last time before he finally lets her go. 

“Stay safe my love.”

Moro only sulks with her embarrassment, he will have to find some creative ways to apologise upon her return. 

[6thofapril1917]

hey tal , hope you're doing well !

for the prompt list may i request #72 for sarie+johnny ?

72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

prompt list

Takes place some time in 1943, before the SAS goes to Europe. Established Sarie/Johnny! Alternate title: Their Love Language is Annoying The Fuck Out Of Each Other

Sarie’s back felt like it was on fire.

Despite her light skin, she hadn’t been sunburned since she was a toddler. It was as if her skin cells managed to catch up to the fact that she was living in the Karoo, not Europe, and decided to stop getting damaged by the sun out of sheer determination. She hadn’t walked away from a childhood under the sun completely unscathed—the constellations of freckles sprayed across her face and body were a testament to that. Still, back home, she’d thought herself safe from the worst of the sun’s wrath.

Now, she was learning the hard way that the sun in South Africa and the sun in the Sahara were two very different beasts.

She was lying flat on her stomach in the long shade of the fortress walls, stripped down to her undershirt and trunks as the men around her—men she thought were her friends, damn it—taunted her in her misery. 

“The invincible Sarie Meyer, laid low by a sunburn,” Riley called out, as if he were announcing a new performer at a particularly boring freak show. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Scientists had thought it impossible,” Jordan deadpanned, peering at her over his book. “I’ll have to let my colleagues at the Sorbonne know of this shocking new development.”

“A revelation for the ages,” Mike added, passing Sarie a fresh canteen of water. She took it with a grunt of thanks, wincing as the reddened skin on her back pulled.

“You’re all terrible,” Sarie grumbled. “Completely bloody terrible.”

“Who are we calling terrible?” a new voice asked. Sarie glanced up to see Johnny and Reg strolling back into the fortress, rifles slung over their soldiers. Johnny raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of Sarie sprawled out on the ground. “Sarie, what the hell are you doing?”

“You’re woman’s been wounded, Cooper,” Mike drawled. “It seems she’s found the one target she can’t hit—the sun.”

“Count your fucking days, Sadler,” Sarie hissed under her breath. The men’s taunts were bad enough. Johnny was going to be fucking insufferable.

“A sunburn, eh?” Johnny asked, and Sarie could practically hear him struggling not to laugh. “That’s odd. I seem to remember a certain someone making the bold claim that ‘sunburns are for the English.’

“What was it you said to me the last time I was burnt?” he continued. “‘You soutie bastards think you’re the kings of the world, and you can’t even handle a bit of sun!’” Johnny recited.

“Is that meant to be a South African accent?” Sarie asked, laughing in spite of herself. “You sound like an Aussie who’s had one too many drinks.”

“I think it sounds impeccable, thank you very much,” Johnny shot back, feigning offense. He dropped his rifle to the ground and plopped down next to where Sarie was sprawled on the dusty cloth mat. He eyed the sunburn painting her shoulders and upper back with a grimace.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “How on earth did this happen?”

“How do you think, genius?” Sarie grumbled. “Went out on my bike. Stayed out too long, I suppose.”

Johnny only hummed in response. She could feel his eyes assessing the damage to her back the same way he assessed a target. She could feel his hand tracing the damaged skin lightly with his fingertips. It was almost hypnotic, and Sarie’s eyelids began to droop which each pass of his hand over her skin.

He was quiet. Too quiet. Then, he chuckled, and suddenly, his fingers were gone. 

Oh, this bloody arsehole.

In a flash, and despite the protests of her aching flesh, Sarie rolled onto her back and grabbed ahold of his wrist, wrenched back in preparation to strike.

“I will knock you on your arse if you even think about it,” she spat.

Johnny batted his eyelashes. “Think about what?” he asked with a smirk.

Sarie scoffed, gesturing to where his wrist was still held firm in her grasp. “Do you need me to spell it out for you, or what?”

“No, I wouldn’t dare of making you do any work,” Johnny said, though he made no move to wrest his hand from her grasp. “Not in your fragile condition.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sarie muttered, releasing his wrist and swatting him on the cheek before turning back to lay on her front.

“Will do,” Johnny responded, nipping at her palm before she could pull her hand away.

Neither of them moved. Soon enough, Sarie could feel his fingers tracing patterns on her back once more.

[squishsquishy]

4. favorite TV show

Harley Quinn

x/x/x x/x/x x/x/x

[alpineshift]

Ooh so for the prompt thingie:

"Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

But like in a cute playful way. Maybe Jack wants snuggle (don’t try telling me that boy’s love language isn’t physical touch) while Nico is busy and after a while where Jack keeps trying to distract Nico from his task Nico is like ‘Just leave me alone for five minutes so I can finish this.’ And Jack gets all pouty and whiny and just exaggeratedly says that.

I love the idea of jack being a menace and nico just accepting it with the air of someone who owns a particularly chatty and demanding cat. they are married. (tysm for the prompt!)

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

It's a rare weekend off, so as far as Jack's concerned, they ought to be taking it easy and lounging around in the apartment and watching stupid TV.

Not reviewing interview questions, for crying out loud.

"Babe, you've done a bazillion interviews at this point in your career," Jack says, nudging Nico's thigh with a socked foot. "You don't have to study it."

"I just wanna be prepared," Nico replies, eyes never leaving the iPad, even as Jack slides his foot across the top of his legs, digging his heel into the muscle there. Nico does catch hold of Jack's foot though, and rubs his thumb over Jack's anklebone absentmindedly.

Hmm. Not good enough.

"Baaabe," Jack wheedles, sliding his whole body down the length of the couch so he could drape his legs over Nico's. Nico just lifts his iPad a little higher to accommodate him, and flips to the next page, damn it. "Babe. Baby. Babe. Babe. Babe."

"Jack. Jack. Jack," Nico replies, catching Jack's hand when he goes to poke at Nico's midsection.

"You think you're sooo funny." Nico finally deigns to give him a judgy side-eye, which is equally hilarious and a win. Judgy Nico is Jack's favourite, simply because it's so funny when Nico gets bitchy. "Are you seriously telling me interview notes are more interesting than me? The literal love of your life?"

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying I want to finish reading these."

Jack feigns are frustrated sigh, kicking his feet slightly. "But I wanna hang out now."

"Just leave me alone for five minutes so I can finish this," Nico says, exasperated. "And then we can watch tv, or buy lunch, or do whatever you want, okay?"

Well. Time for the big guns.

Jack pushes himself up and takes over Nico's lap in one swift movement, seating himself overtop Nico's thighs, lightly pushing the iPad to his chest, hovering deliberately over his boyfriend. Nico startles at the sudden weight on him, blinking owlishly up at Jack. Jack bites down on his bottom lip, watching Nico closely.

"Fine. Tell me to leave and I'll never bother you again." Nico frowns, opens his mouth, then closes it with a snap when Jack settles his weight down more pointedly. Drapes his arms over Nico's shoulders. Leans in so that their lips are nearly touching. "I could just go. Leave you to another five pages of sports questions. Give you some space, keep myself entertained in the other room, y'know?"

Nico swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. Jack hides his grin. Hughes: 1. Hischier: 0. "I won't distract you, Neeks. Let me just go--"

There's not much interest in the iPad questions after that.

[whitnerd]

Between the scene after the 1984 forum and those FK photobook photos, I've wanted to draw AkkAye kissing in the rain for forever. These shows really should have more kissing in the rain I think.

[antivanruffles]

💜Kanej with a side of Wysper

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss (huehuehue)

________________________________

It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought of it. He had, on multiple occasions, in multiple iterations. He might even admit to that, too, if he were asked outright by certain people. Or person, rather.

The truth was that the thought was never far from his mind.

Kaz would wake up and think about kissing Inej. He would go over reports and pieces of intel and think about kissing Inej. He would meet with his crew, his employees, other bosses of The Barrel, and he would think about kissing Inej.

In his mind it was appealing, something he practically yearned for, if he were being honest. Although he might not admit to it, no matter who it was that was asking.

In reality it was... daunting.

Kaz had never wanted these types of things before, and yet here he was, pining away like a silly school girl and too damaged to do anything about it.

It was at times like this Kaz was truly jealous of Jesper; who was always so easy and free with his affection. Who could--and would--happily fawn over Wylan, professing and displaying his love. Jesper never worried about holding Wylan's hand, or offering up a comforting hug. And Jesper certainly never worried about kissing Wylan. It was easy for them.

For Kaz and Inej it was more... difficult.

That didn't stop him from thinking about it though. Eventually he would have to do more than think, however.

He was at the Van Eck estate one evening, pretending to ignore Jesper and Wylan as they played footsie under the dinner table, when Kaz realized he'd had quite enough of pining.

Across the table Jesper, quick as you like, grabbed Wylan's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. It was a simple gesture, and rather innocent, but it gave Kaz an idea. And that was all he needed to form a plan.

***

It was a week later when The Wraith sailed into the harbor, taking its spot in berth twenty-two, and Kaz went to greet its captain. Kaz would never say he rushed to fifth harbor, he merely went there with the utmost efficiency. 

The dawn had barely broken when he arrived, and the crew was already in the process of unloading the ship and preparing it for some much needed maintenance, the dock a flurry of action. Even so it was easy enough to spot Inej in the chaos and barking orders, her long braid streaming behind her in the salty breeze, her shoulders back and feet braced as she adjusted to being on dry land once again.

The early morning sun glinted off her until she looked like she was gilded in gold; a saintly statue come to life.

"Inej," he called and if he sounded a little breathless, well, nothing for it now.

She turned and started moving toward him in one fluid motion, her face lighting up with a smile as soon as she saw him. And not for the first time Kaz wondered what he had done in his twice damned life to have earned her affection.

Regardless, he would not be ungrateful. Kaz Brekker knew a treasure when he saw one, and Inej Ghafa was the most precious of treasures.

"You came," she said as she stopped before him. If she sounded a little breathless, he wasn't going to say anything.

"I said I would." At her last visit he had all but promised to always greet her at the docks when she arrived, after she commented on how much she looked forward to it.

"I know, but we're a day early."

"And you could be a week early or a week late, I would still come," he vowed. 

Inej didn't say anything, just beamed at him instead. They stood there for a long while, her crew working diligently behind them as the sun slowly rose on the horizon and the world started to come to life around them.

Eventually Kaz back to himself and remembered his plan. He stepped a little closer to Inej, enough to hear her slight intake of breath at his proximity. 

"I had a thought," he said. "If I may try something?"

"Of course." She nodded, tilting her head back to look up at him, eyes curious and full of trust. 

This was a game they had played many times before, learning what was permitted, what wasn't, and what might need to be revisited again later. Kaz lifted his bare hand slowly, his gloves tucked away in his pocket, as they always were when he welcomed her to Ketterdam and when he saw her off.

Inej watched as he moved it slowly toward her face. He paused, and she met his gaze. Kaz lifted his brows in question. Inej looked torn between amusement and bewilderment, but nodded nonetheless. Permission granted he gently laid his hand over her mouth, almost as if he were trying to shush her. Her eyes were amused and he could feel her lips twitching.

Kaz was happy to learn that this type of contact wasn't a problem.

Then, before he could lose his nerve, he ducked his head toward hers. His hand acted as a barrier, stopping any contact between their lips, but the motion was the same. The intent, he hoped, was clear.

They were so close that Kaz could see each individual eyelash framing her eyes, could count them if he were so inclined. Instead he watched as her eyes widened in surprise, and then softened considerably once she realized what he was doing.

After a moment she pressed a matching kiss against the palm of his hand.

Kaz felt his breath hitch, and pulled back slowly. He dropped his hand from her mouth, fingers opening and closing against the tingling of his palm. Inej was simply grinning at him.

He cleared his throat, and tried to ignore the fact that his cheeks felt overly warm.

"Welcome home, Inej," he said at length.

"It's good to be home." She stuck out her hand, offering it to him. He obliged her, lacing their fingers together before Inej started to tug him up the dock by their joined hands.

They would go find breakfast, and discuss whatever news she brought from the sea. They would trade information and secrets, as was their routine when she returned to Ketterdam, and Kaz would think about kissing her--as he always did.

Only now he would follow through on the thought, and next time... maybe next time they wouldn't need the barrier. 

[another-corpo-rat]

thinking way too hard about Smasher calling Victoria 'Buttercup' and if I want him to exclusively start using it when she gets a gemini frame as a sign of some feelings of his i cant articulate becoming fully accepted

or if it's something that's always been there, like 'blondie' or 'queen victoria', planted as something to annoy her with but growing more sincere in its affection through the decades she's always been buttercup, but after a while she's his buttercup and that changes things

[moved-to-satoruswaifu]

💞🩸💀, can be either separate or together...ehehehehe :3c

I can finally start writing these huhu and tbh the prompts are perfect for what I wanted to write anyway after stumbling across the outcome of jjk235 ... so, uh, manga spoiler ahead. also I played around with the prompts but WHATEVER

Her eyes burn with tears, lungs screaming at the lack of oxygen whilst she runs and runs, almost tripping over the rubbles — of what used to be tall buildings towering over Shinjuku. 

Sera hasn’t even reached him yet, but she’s already sobbing, already trembling like a pile of leaves being bullied by the wind.

And once she can finally cling to her husband's (marred) body again, she doesn’t stop.

“You idiot!” Sera shouts, nuzzling his cheek, uncaring for the drying blood insistently sticking to his skin. Satoru holds her tightly, with one hand gently stroking her short hair and the other keeping her smaller body close to his own.

“I know.” Mumbled against his wife’s quivering bottom lip.

“You could’ve died! What were you thinking, blowing yourself up like that!?“

“Shhh — I know.”

He’s still smiling, all cocky and proud still, now that he won against the king of curses. Despite the risk, it was worth it.

Pressing another kiss to her lips, Satoru chuckles, yet his heart aches with the never ending waterfall of tears streaming down Sera’s face. 

“I’m alive. I won. It’s all good.”

The hint of a teasing tone causes her to pout. She knows of her husband’s reasons, knows he will always risk his life to keep her and the students safe. It’s what Sera loves and hates about him.

“Aww, there my little wife goes again, pouting at me. C’mere.”

With one swift movement, Satoru scoops her up, carrying her on one arm. All but instinctively, Sera wraps her arms around his neck, before leaning in to kiss him again, longer this time. Their shared relief is poured into the connection, along with words left unsaid and words yet to be spoken aloud. 

Once their lips separate, albeit reluctantly, she carefully wipes away a bit of blood dribbling down the side of his face, mindful of the scratches and wounds that haven't fully healed yet. Sniffling, Sera smiles.

"You need a shower."

"I need a lot more than that, sweetcheeks."

Amidst their little moment, a cough fills the air, interrupting the married couple. Two heads turn to the direction of an injured Sukuna.

“Ah. Right, I’m not exactly done here,” Satoru sighs, tightening his grip around Sera.

“And I’m not leaving your side.”

And the strongest knows, not only due to the determination dripping from her tone, he can’t argue against that. Not this time.

[wall-eye]

Sometimes I'm like 'idk if I should call myself autistic, I might just have anxiety' but then something happens and I go oh yeah no that's probably it

[solxamber]

Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil

a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3

Other parts: Vice Housewardens + Rollo, Neige ; First Years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.

You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”

For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.

Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.

You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.

Leona Kingscholar

You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”

After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”

The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.

And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.

He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.

But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.

He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.

“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”

You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”

With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.

All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.

Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.

The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.

Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.

You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”

He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.

You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.

Jamil Viper

Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.

His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.

He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.

You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”

A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.

For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.

With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.

“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”

In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.

Vil Schoenheit

It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"

And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.

"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.

"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."

Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”

His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.

"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.

“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”

In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.

Idia Shroud

Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.

And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.

“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.

“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”

He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.

Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.

You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.

His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.

Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.

The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.

You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."

Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.

He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.

Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."

In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.

Masterlist