#takes things that he likes and has never experienced a good snuggle in his life (gets addicted to it immediately)

[woodlandwrites]

husband!percy jackson

the lovely @buenolover suggested this!!

this is so unedited but I was feeling frisky and needed to write something - might do a pt. 2 !!

༄ if you think percy is #boyfriendmaterial you’re wrong!

༄ this man is 1000% husband material

༄ okay so I imagine you both being demigods and start dating - everyone at chb is like omg they are my parents

༄ I think it started out as a friendship but really turned into more - especially when you caught him in the kitchens after hours with a younger camper making blueberry pancakes

༄ the young camper had a nightmare and percy decided to cheer them up (he’d experienced plenty of bad nightmares himself)

༄ that’s what kind of started your relationship because you thought it was really showed who percy was - a empathetic kind and beautiful soul

༄ poseidon didn’t deserve him

༄ percy would quite literally take a bullet for you - no he would jump into tartarus for you - no he would sell his soul for you

༄ he would actually spend an hour telling you different brutal ways he’d die for you - it’s his love language

༄ I feel like the wedding would be verrrrry low key (on the beach ofc!)

༄ after you say your vows and kiss you both run and jump into the water - cause y’all are cute or whateva

༄ the blue food is definitely a staple at your wedding

༄ I can see the both of you living in the cabin on the beach in montauk together

༄ tangled in the sheets waking up to the sounds of waves and percy’s incredibly loud snoring

༄ percy lovessss to take you into the sea - it’s like showing you his soul in a way - he adores you so much the sea seems to calm whenever you are near him

༄ sea creatures love to come a visit you!! they actually end up liking you more than percy

༄ speaking of which - you are now sally’s favorite child - sorry percy

༄ sally is quite literally the best mom on the planet and always you both the check in

༄ I also think sally adores you because she finally is able to see percy happy - not worried about the next quest that inevitably will scar him more

༄ percy isn’t perfect though! he is very sloppy and spills almost everything - he also won’t wash dishes to save his life

༄ not that he won’t he just forgets a lot

༄ percy snores and has terrible rls which is why you end up nudging him in the back at 2 am

༄ however - you wouldn’t want it any other way.

༄ percy is thoughtful as FUCK!! oh you like that? I’ll buy ten. oh that’s your favorite color - let me buy everything that color in existence.

༄ one night it was storming heavily and percy hadn’t come home yet - which had you worried!!

༄ that was until he came home drenched with a fistful of your favorite flowers. you had mentioned earlier how much you loved them - percy couldn’t let his girl NOT have her favorite flowers right?

༄ he caught a cold after that

༄ percy loves having late night bonfires with you - staying up until the early hours just talking

༄ that’s the thing about percy - conversation was never dull

༄ slow dancing by the sea with only the moonlight shining

༄ family planning is hectic - percy wants to be a father but he worries so much about being a good father - he never wanted to be his father

༄ I feel like percy is like a pillow you flip over at night to the cool side - he is like that first dip in cold water during a summer day

༄ that’s why he’s so wonderful to snuggle with at night because you don’t overheat

༄ percy laughs at everything and is a very easy going husband to have - he never makes you feel less than perfect

༄ although you both have your flaws - you both work so perfectly together

[setsugekka]

❥the sun will rise, and we will try again (m)

↳ Minho would tell himself everyday that it was good enough. That he was happy enough. Content enough. Alive just enough.

He chose you over himself, you just never really knew it.

lee minho x fem!reader — friends to lovers, unrequited love, angst, porn with plot, explicit sexual content. [11,6k wc] cws: heavy pining, alcohol consumption, sexual activity under the influence, penetrative sex (unprotected), some light teasing.

Minho has never been sure whether to curse or be forever indebted to his eidetic memory.

On one hand, it made school a breeze, and the majority of his career prospects thereafter similarly simplified. Not that he had taken any of them truly to heart, obviously — given the fact that he had followed you all of the way to another country for not much reason beyond feeling like it.

That’s what he said, that’s always what he would say.

But it’s his eidetic memory that has such a particular way in proposing his suffering. He deliberates that he may always remember exactly what it was that you were wearing that night, and precisely the food stands that surrounded the two of you at that moment in time. It’s been three years since that night and the two of you had attended the Christmas festival each and every time — the same one, same location — and sure, the shop locations and snack booths change year after year; the only constant being the large glühwein stand in the middle of the festival which served as the prime meeting spot for all of the attendees.

A large windmill-looking contraption, seats strewn about as far as one could see and people at every inch of one another — laughing, smiling.

Loving.

And Minho remembers this night in particular because it was the first year that the two of you had moved to Germany together — you for school and Minho for…his own reasons. Years later and of all of the things he does remember, he’s not sure he recalls whichever lie it was that he had told you about why it was that he chose to move to another country with you; the only thing that was for sure, is that whatever he said was not the truth.

Long, tan coat with a burgundy scarf accenting colorfully, Minho remembers watching the way you struggled to hold the strap of your bag up and on your shoulder as you juggled a glass of glühwein in one hand, and your change in euros in another — realizing that dealing in cash was a rather distinctly Berlin sort of thing that would certainly take some getting used to — but taking your bag and slinging it over his shoulder, hearing the desperate exhale of a “thank you” escaping from your lips as if freedom had surely been assumed to never come — he pulls the polaroid camera out from the main pocket and smiles with just the left corner of his mouth, holding it up and dangling it in front of you. “Shall we? Commemorate the move?”

Minho takes one of the two of you together, you snuggled up into his arm next to him in an attempt to fit into the frame — he takes another — and then for the third one, it’s the moment he’ll certainly never forget for as long as he lives, he truly believes that.

The way your arms wrapped around his own in the instant and warm lips pressed to the skin of his cheek just as he takes the photograph. It became quite a topic of humor once the film developed — the look of shock on Minho’s face at the sudden realization of what had physically occurred. And emotionally.

Minho knows that he was in love with you long before that moment — and well aware of it at the time, as well. Figure one would have to be to move to another country just to be around a person — and sure, the two of you were friends and had been for a good while prior but…it was a big change, a huge leap of faith. Minho thinks, his final shot at what could be the rest of his life.

And it was an easy choice for him. A man with no particular ties to home and a hunger for adventure — for seeing, doing, experiencing. Despite having never even been to Germany prior, he found himself now uprooting his entire life to go live there for however long it took. Whatever it was, at least. Acknowledgment? Acceptance? Love? Loss? Minho figured that at the end of this, he would have some answer, and may as well get to experience life while he was at it.

Although, perhaps choosing to live together wasn’t the best option, given the circumstances. His circumstances. Not to be confused with circumstances that the two of you were equally and equivocally involved in and aware of. He was well aware that his feelings were one-sided.

Until they weren’t.

It’s another moment in time in which his photographic memory deserts him in the most cruel ways. All of the test taking and number crunching in the world that served him well, only to betray him like a dagger straight to the heart. A scene that he can’t stop replaying in his mind even still. It’s been years. 

For the most part, Minho has learned to let go — to move on. Minho has learned to be precisely what you need him to be in your life — crushing and deforming himself to fit into the exact mold that you find ideal at any point in time. A friend. A companion.

After two and a half months of perfect dating bliss (if you were to ask him, of course) he still remembers the way you smiled at him — pathetically, like you were cooing at a puppy who wasn’t able to get it’s way — when you told him that you just wanted to be friends. That they should go back, undo, revert the process.

Long, long after Minho had already ingrained the taste of you into his mind for the rest of eternity, and the way you looked the first time he kissed you, when it wasn’t the intent of a couple of drunk friends late one night just having a giggle.

Lee Minho resigned himself to making himself as small as he had to in order to make you feel as big as you could, unbeknownst to you, of course. Any way that he was required to bend and lessen, he was happy to oblige — an alternate state of happiness, perhaps.

You were always going to be the only thing that mattered, forever, he thought; and at the expense of himself, if necessary.

He thinks often about how he simply just doesn’t want you to forget where you belong; and not in a possessive, jealous, weird wannabe-boyfriend kind of way, it’s just that he truly is in love with you and will do anything for you, and that love like that — romantic or otherwise — is hard to come by nowadays. Minho had always prided himself on his absolute devotion to people. To anything that he deemed worthy of himself.

You, the most worthy in his eyes, albeit you would never know, probably.

And that was the burden that Minho had to bear after that night of being told that all of the late night kisses, and cuddling, and holding hands in your center-city loft: for a fleeting moment in time, he was able to live precisely the way that he had dreamed of with you — memories he would have to hold onto to despite the pain that they held, because they also served as the happiest simultaneously. He contemplates often if he should have told you in that moment — told you everything — spilled his guts out for you, a full display of raw emotion and disgusting vulnerability. Would it have mattered? Would it have changed the course of the relationship? Friendship?

Minho looks down at his phone, setting next to him on the concrete flooring of your shared balcony, tapping the screen to illuminate it with intent to read the time.

“Almost 2am, eh?” he says to no one, tipping the beer bottle in his hand all of the way back in an attempt to drip any remainder of alcohol onto his tongue, but to no avail. Rolling his eyes, he abruptly sets the bottle down, clattering with the other four empty bottles also keeping him company.

“Late night,” he adds under his breath, as if to be playing out a conversation between two people despite no one else being present. This is by design, because Minho would rather be dead than ever make his own problems, yours.

But he knows where you are, and he knows what you’re doing.

And most pained of all, he knows who with.

For Minho, moving to Germany with you was an easy decision — not one he had put a lot of thought into. A man that fresh out of college made a good living for himself freelancing photography work along with a handful of other things here or there, it landed him a comfortable amount of money to play around with for a while, and Berlin being the relatively cheap city that it was; affordable accommodation helped make the choice even simpler.

Plus, it was with you, as if he would ever give up the opportunity.

And it wasn’t some deeply considered, manipulative, creepy attempt at trying to mind game you into a relationship with him — that happening was all-in-all, a happy accident. Of course, the ideal outcome of his, but not gamed for, not finagled. More than anything, Minho just wanted to be around you. Exist in your space. Experience a life with you in it; by whatever means necessary.

He would find, however, that this would result in grave emotional torment. Every day waking up and going to sleep feeling the same way: having to swallow the hot dagger of things not being exactly how one wishes them to be. It was good enough, sometimes suffering is. These are the choices we make to coexist with others.

Minho would tell himself everyday that it was good enough. That he was happy enough. Content enough. Alive just enough.

He chose you over himself, you just never really knew it.

When you eventually crawl out of your bedroom at a quarter past eight in the morning, you come to find your roommate already sitting at the shared dining room table — coffee in-hand and newspaper lying on the table. A sight for sore eyes, that Lee Minho. Always stable. Rarely changing. If there was one thing you could count on, it was him — for better or for worse, as it were.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says dryly, eyes not prying themselves from the words laid out in front of him, “long night?”

He’s being funny, or so he thinks — knowing how hungover you are.

“Ha ha, Lino,” you quip back, accessorizing with his nickname from college to express just how unamused you are by the exchange already. “Yeah, I got in pretty late. What time did you go to bed?”

“Around midnight,” he lies, and it feels like a jab to the heart every time he does, not enjoying the habit he’s made recently of telling little fibs to you in the moment.

“Lucky you,” you respond, pouring yourself a coffee and plopping yourself down into a white chair adjacent to the one where he sits. “But I don’t have class today so I suppose it’s fine. Do you want to do anything?”

Minho finally looks up, eyes slowly pulling from the article he had been reading, “are you capable of doing anything today?”

“Oh my god, I had a few drinks, I didn’t get annihilated, calm down. Let me have a coffee and a painkiller and I’ll be fine,” you quickly answer, rolling your eyes. “I want to go to the mall to get a new dress.”

Always somehow the best and worst way to spend a day with you, he thinks to himself.

“Alright, let me know. Alexanderplatz? I might want to take some photos while we’re out that way.” he adds, looking back to his newspaper and sipping from his mug.

“Of course, Princess,” you respond, kicking back the rest of what’s in your mug and standing to head back towards your bedroom. “Anything you want.”

Deep down, despite knowing the joke, Minho always hates it just a tiny amount when you say that — because it’s not true. However, over the years, and especially in Berlin now, Minho has absolutely mastered the art of acting; of not projecting, of maintaining a cool, calm and collected demeanor.

You’ll never know the way he dies by your hand every day. Not if he can help it, at least.

The mall is busy, Alexa Centre typically is, but especially around holiday season with the Christmas festival just across the street, and Minho can’t help but regret just a bit his agreeing to come with you for this excursion.

“What did we come here for, again?” he asks, trying to manage his tone as to not sound exceptionally annoyed. Which he is, but he doesn’t want to sound it.

"I need a dress,” you reply, rolling your eyes because you can see right through him regardless.

And Minho sort of wants to forget the reason again, because he knows what a new dress entails.

“You should get something new, too, you’ve been cycling through the same shit for a few years now,” you tell him, linking an arm into his and pulling him into the direction that you had desired to go.

To Minho, every moment with you happens in slow motion — so that he carefully craft the memory; etch it into his brain for all of eternity, at least that’s what he hopes. Every touch, every split second of intimacy — whether as friends or anything else — he doesn’t care. These are all of his moments. The flip book he proverbially looks through every night before he goes to sleep to remind himself of what he’s doing, and why he’s there, and all of the ways that he has failed as every second passes by.

“Yeah, I guess I should,” he answers, allowing himself to be dragged into a shop and stopping next to you in front of a mannequin — adorned with a silver, loosely fitted, glittery dress and a large, fluffy black coat atop it.

“Wow,” you say, a little bit in awe at the outfit on the mannequin, but more so at what the outfit on the mannequin could mean for your trip to the Centre. “If I'm really able to get this shopping trip done this quickly, it’ll be a fucking miracle.”

Minho laughs and agrees, moseying himself over to the men’s section and rifling through some long-sleeved shirts on the hanger. It’s only a short while before you return to meet him, shopping bags indicating a successful foray into Alexanderplatz, and in record time, at that.

“I’m gonna get something,” he says, pulling a few hangers onto his arm and continuing to look around. It was a good trip, things had gone well.

And we can’t have that, now can we?

“Are you still seeing that girl?”

Minho stops in his tracks, frozen in place by the question. It’s certainly not an out of place one by any means — not given the relationship between the two of you. Friends tend to talk about their romantic situations…circumstances…affairs.

But truthfully, he hated talking about it with you, because it made him feel fake.

Minho did date. In fact, he had been seeing the same woman for a few months now. Not anything serious — and yes, she knew that — but it was the phoniness of the entire thing. He sits awake in bed every night pining for another woman that he can’t have while he runs around and attempts to forget it between the legs of the one that he can have.

He hated that man. That man, like every other man. But deeply, Minho was looking for any sign that he could eventually forget you, let you go. Move on. He figured he would be doing you and himself a disservice to not at least try.

Suppose sometimes that comes with collateral damage — albeit, with intent to take the best care he could.

“Yeah,” he finally responds after what feels like hours, “she’s been busy so we haven’t met lately but, yeah.”

“We should all go out together some time!”

Sounds like a fucking miserable idea.

"I’d like that, let me know,” he responds. Fucking fool. God forbid he let you suffer for even a second at the expense of his own well being.

Despite the relative quickness of the shopping trip, rain falls from the skies as the two of you exit the large shopping mall — people crowded around under the awning in feeble attempt to stay dry — the wind not lending itself to the endeavor, and Minho looks over at you as you attempt to shield yourself from the wetness; strands of hair strewn about and squinting, he pulls out his camera for the first time since the two of you have left the apartment and snaps a quick shot of your profile. You slap his arm playfully as he brings the device back down from his face and smiles.

“I must look crazy in that photo, quit it.”

“Nah, you don’t,” he replies, looking back at it on the digital display. He reconsiders not once, but twice, if he should say the thought really running through his mind.

His heart tends to get the best of him, however.

“You look beautiful.”

And you smile at him in response before letting out a quiet “oh shut up,” Minho puts the camera down and away once again.

He finds himself musing to no one all too often, perhaps, “am I allowed to look at her like that?” And unfortunately, never being met with an answer.

Minho is happy for every day that goes by where he is not met with an invitation to go double dating with you and your partner, but as the days drag on with no such invite and more noticeably, you spending more time at the apartment, he begins to feel a worry — a distinct cloud of eerie sadness wafting over the shared living space that is never acknowledged. Every relationship has it’s struggles — Minho forces himself to not wish ill of yours, despite knowing that the wishing of any intent does little in actuality. Would it make him a bad man to wish for you and your partner to break up?

He feels guilt every time the fleeting thought passes by him, but still it passes by all the same.

After a week, Minho startles to the sound of you knocking on his door close to midnight. Meek knocks, knocks entirely unlike you.

“They said it wasn’t working out, I don’t know,” you say, arms crossed and shoulder leaned up against the door frame of Minho’s bedroom. “I didn’t ask a lot of questions.”

“Are you okay?” Minho asks, shifting in his seat — uncomfortable with the topic, and the nervous energy coursing through him at the prospect. He disgusts himself, on some basic, primal level.

You sigh and shrug. “Yeah, I mean, it’s fine,” you start, answering on the exhale. “We weren’t together all that long and it was just kind of casual so…it’s fine.”

Make a move on his newly single best friend, Lee Minho absolutely will not. Not under any circumstances. Minho questions if he would make any sort of move on you at all, under any circumstances at all, and fails to come up with a scenario in which he might.

But it delights him, deep down, no longer having to deal with the intrusive thoughts of the sheets you lie between elsewhere. For now.

“Hey, I know it’s late but uhh,” you begin, changing your demeanor from a solemn one to a more joyous one in an attempt to pick up the mood. “Would you want to like…go get a drink and some take out or something tonight?”

And Minho simply smiles at the proposition.

“Sure, of course I would.”

It’s one of those nights where you’re happy to be living where you are. Berlin — seemingly a city that never really sleeps, with corner stores open for hours on end and selling just about anything you could imagine — including alcohol; it's a stop to the nearest one before the kebab place on the adjacent corner, to then make your way to the dimly lit park only a couple of blocks down from the apartment. A relatively cold night, not one the two of you would be loitering in under normal circumstances certainly — but desperate times call for desperate measures, and to Minho, “anything that you desire” falls into that slot. Thus, chilled to the bone with a bottle of wine to share between the two of you and a kebab each — you sit on a cool, grassy hill just under a couple of trees where the visual of the streets and the very much alive city sidewalks still remain lit. Minho takes it upon himself to steal a few glances at you, of course — some from his peripheral — some much less inconspicuous, as you speak about living in the city and how much you have been enjoying it, how you considered never moving back home.

How you had everything that you needed right here already.

“What do you think?” you ask the man next to you, turning and looking towards him as he stares out towards the streets not too far off from where the two of you sit — wine bottle in hand and taking a swig directly from it before beginning to answer.

Trying to figure out which lie to tell you this evening.

“I like it here too,” he replies, trying to reign in any volume of emotional tone from his words. “It’s nice.”

“It’s nice? That’s it?” you chuckle, stealing the bottle from his hands with playful aggression and sipping from it just the same as he had. “Sounds like you could be anywhere, then.”

Internally, Minho laughs at just how unfathomably untrue that statement is.

“It’s a beautiful city and I enjoy being here,” he amends, carefully and not wanting to give too much of himself to the conversation. “And of course, I enjoy spending time with you.”

Even just saying it makes his heart drop into his stomach, despite it being a completely normal thing for friends to think and feel towards one another. To say 'I enjoy your company, thank you for being a part of my life.'

Minho knows that it feels bad because the intent is off. Truthful words hiding behind a cloak of fictitiousness. It’s true but in all of the wrong ways.

“Truthfully, I couldn’t imagine being here with anyone else.”

Words that flip Minho’s entire world upside down in an instant.

In a movie, this would be the moment where he finally kisses the girl, confesses his feelings for her and empties his heart right at her feet — only for her to joyously accept him and his love, and for them to live happily ever after.

He’d have been lying if he said he didn’t consider it.

But in the end, he settles for the removal of a wine bottle from your hands — drinking down the remains, and standing up in place — reaching a warm hand down to you for you to take.

“It’s getting late, we should get back home.”

When the two of you do arrive back home, taking turns showering in the single shared bathroom and trading off goodnight wishes before retiring to each room, Minho flops himself into his bed for the night — arm draped across his forehead to do his typical pre-sleep routine of torturing himself with countless thoughts of what if’s and what could be’s. On tonight’s agenda; a little special treat of realizing that he is no longer in any position to be dating anyone else — that things have become too entrenched. He was not escaping you, not so long as this continued to go on.

He realizes in the moment that this was always the life that he had chosen. Was it really reasonable to assume that he would ever be capable of being in a good, healthy, committed relationship with another person? Unlikely. Long ago, years ago, when Minho had chosen you, he had chosen all of the things that would go along with that.

Including the endless pining of not being with you, albeit, this not a part of the manual when signing up, of course.

For the first time, Minho acknowledges and makes peace with how unhealthy his pining is. It’s easy to make a case for anything when it’s impact on your life is easy to ignore. They say “when it starts impacting your life negatively, that’s when you know you have a problem.”

He knows, he just doesn’t necessarily want to fix it — not in the way that may be required of him, at least.

“I love you, why won’t you let me.”

The words ring through his brain repeatedly as he dozes off to sleep, but not before sending off a lazy text to the other woman, about how they should have lunch tomorrow — to talk.

such a unique flavor of masochism, unrequited love.

Minho sometimes finds himself wondering what goes through your mind when someone mentions his name to you.

He tries not to allow himself much time to it — because the what if’s make him crazy with unknowns, but certain weak, lonely nights at home — nights when you’re out with friends, or late with class work, he can’t help himself. Does it make you smile? Do you get butterflies? Do you feel anything?

One particularly lonely Wednesday night, he reminisces about the first time he met you. A weekend spent together as a result of a mutual friends gathering: a rental home for an after-semester getaway for partying, relaxing, maybe even hooking up. At least, that had been Minho’s plan. Meet a nice girl, have a nice weekend together, probably never speak to her again after the fact. Nothing against her, he just hadn’t been looking for anything at the time.

Love has a funny way of knowing when you’re least equipped for taking it on.

You walking into the house in your skinny jeans and a loose sweater, bag slung over your shoulder — Minho doesn’t believe in love at first sight on a fundamental level, and he would certainly never attribute the connection the two of you shared to it if he were asked.

It was a thought he kept to himself, completely asinine and unreasonable as it was, he couldn’t ignore the truth of the matter.

He remembers Hyunjin introducing the two of you when the three of you had all found yourselves at the makeshift bar — watching you attempt to find an empty cup that was not previously used with much trouble. Minho holds out an empty and seemingly dry cup from his hand and towards you without saying a word. He remembers the way you stared at him like he was insane, and like he surely thought you were an idiot.

Hyunjin catches the scene, sliding himself over and between the two, “it’s okay,” he assures you. “He’s mine, he means no harm.”

“Kind of nuts for a woman to take a cup from a strange man at a house party, don’t you think?” you say in response, not entirely to Hyunjin alone, but also to the stranger in front of you.

“I accidentally had two,” Minho says dryly, pointing to the bottom of his own cup that had a beverage inside of it. “It was stuck, but you’re welcome to continue on your search.”

It’s against your better judgment in usual circumstances, but with Hyunjin’s glowing approval you take the chance — accepting it and pouring yourself a drink. Holding it up in a bit of a cheers towards the man with the brown hair and the sort of crooked smile, you thank him.

That was the moment, for whatever reason. You didn’t know it, there was no indication at all.

That night, as he stands with you in a group of people, listening to the way you speak and interact with not only them, but him — he thinks that he’s probably going to fall in love with you. Looking back now, he realizes he already had by the time the drunken conversation about whether people have one or two butts had begun to take place in the living room of the rental home.

Minho would find himself spending the next year contemplating all of the ways that the two of you would be perfect for one another. The nature of infatuation — you can convince yourself of it easily, can’t you?

It’s been years now, of Minho never saying what he’s really thinking. Suppose people never really do? That’s what he tells himself.

“Do you want to go to this party tonight?”

Minho looks up from his book, sprawled out lengthwise along his bed in sweatpants and a black shirt with bleached out splotched from the last time he had attempted to do his hair and he finds the question a little hilarious, given the way he currently looks — in no position to be seen by people, and hardly even much of one to be seen by you.

“Um,” he starts, squinting a bit as he attempts to run the idea through his mind. “Where? Who?”

“Couple of friends from my humanities class are having a get together,” you say, shrugging as the words leave your mouth. “We’re not doing much else so figured I’d ask.”

“Yeah, sure,” Minho answers, slowly sitting himself up from his bed and sliding a bookmark in between pages before closing his reading material. “Give me like, thirty minutes?”

You roll your eyes. “Who are you going there to impress?”

People don’t say what they’re really thinking.

“Can’t I not want to look like I just rolled out of bed?”

“You are just rolling out of bed”

“yes, but I don’t want to look like it,” Minho insists, standing and walking towards his clothing rack, “now get the hell out so I can get ready.”

“Oh my god,” you exasperate on your exit.

The playful banter being one of the things Minho loves about your friendship the most. Play fighting made his heart skip a beat or two, every time. A bizarre charming point, perhaps, but a charming point to him all the same.

When the two of you arrive to the apartment, the gathering is already in full swing. A relatively small grouping of people — all from different places in the world — a few drink options sitting out on the kitchen counter but nothing too excessive or over the top, Minho is actually pleased to find that this would probably just end up being a reasonably chill night. A night to just spend time in your presence, and among good company. He introduces himself to your friends and vice versa before settling down on one of the smaller sofas in the general living space with small drinks in hand. You look at him, watching him survey his surroundings in the same way that he always does — taking everything in. Enjoying the moment.

“Tonight will be nice,” you say softly to him, leaning over to nudge him lightly. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“Of course,” he responds before bringing his glass to his lips and sipping, “everyone seems nice.”

“They are,” you affirm as you take a sip of your own.

A few hours into the night, right around 11pm, the host of the party calls for the attendees to gather around the living room for fun and games. Minho raises an inquisitive eyebrow, unsure of what to expect, but another caring nudge from you settles him once again.

It always was just that easy for you with him.

As the host carries on an explanation of what was planned for the rest of the night, you lean into him and ask delicately, “sorry for asking if it’s a sore spot but…did you and that girl stop seeing each other?”

After all, love is a pretty good reason to make everything go wrong.

Minho shifts in his seat a bit, and almost choking on the liquid he had just taken into his mouth he manages to swallow down and sort of chuckle. “Yeah, not a big deal, though. We both agreed.”

Lying to you never got easier no matter how many times he did it.

“Ah,” you respond, unsure of how else to carry on the topic. “Well that’s good — I mean, it’s not good, but it could have been worse…I guess? Sorry.”

Do you know what it’s like to be so in love with someone that you can’t even breathe?

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

Sort of true, depending on how you look at it.

The two of you bring your attention back to the host in just the moment that they mention a game of truth or dare. Minho’s fight or flight response kicks in immediately despite his perfectly managed demeanor on the outside and you can’t help but feel a bit of discomfort yourself. Doing things that you wouldn’t normally do was not your idea of fun, even in the nature of a game.

And as the game carries on among the people in the room, everyone makes it out relatively unscathed. No one being asked to do especially heinous acts, Minho begins to feel a sigh of relief at the fact that he might actually be able to get out of this night having only had to chug a beer, or maybe lick a kitchen floor — all things he can manage without a care.

“Okay Minho, truth or dare,” a blonde girl from across the room shouts a bit louder than necessary.

“Dare, give it your best shot!” he responds enthusiastically, happily playing along with the atmosphere of the evening.

“Okay,” she smirks, tone dropping into something a bit mischievous, and in the moment Minho truly considers that maybe he got a little bit too brave.

“Seven minutes in heaven with her,” she says, pointing towards you. “Should be easy enough, shouldn’t it?”

He swallows hard, because of course it is. The two of you live together. Your entire life is effectively one long game of seven minutes in heaven together, just without all of the spontaneous joys the kids tend to enjoy of it when playing such a game in the teenage years.

“Okay, where?” he answers confidently as the girl walks over to them and drags them both down a hall and into a bedroom.

A bedroom? Really?

While the implications are certainly not lost on him, and despite being absolutely and madly in love with you, Minho finds himself at least a little insulted at the thought that someone would consider that he’s not capable of even being in such a wide open space as a bedroom offers with you. He loves you, and he wants you, but he’s not a fucking snake.

But it’s the fact that the dragging doesn’t end once into the bedroom — still being pulled towards a small door at the other end of the space, the girl pulling it open and shoving the both of you inside and closing it immediately thereafter.

And now Minho suspects that this might just be the tiniest closet ever invented. How do people even make closets this small? Much less use them. What the fuck.

He can hear the girl outside of the bedroom say some words — he can hear her voice, but the actual things she says get lost among his hyper awareness at your body pressed tightly up against his own. Hands splayed out on his chest in an attempt to keep yourself held upright and steady.

You shift against him in an attempt to create space, or comfort. Something. It’s a fleeting attempt. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay,” he responds, clearing his throat. Minho stands statuesque in the darkness of the space — surrounded by a handful of coats that smell faintly of old cigarette smoke, cologne and beer.

Silence takes over. It’s awkward. Minho thinks it’s the first time that the two of you have ever felt this uncomfortable in the company of the other. Not even the break up was this bizarre.

And he knows it’s not only radiating off of him. Not with the way you keep shifting against his chest.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says finally, “It’s just a game, we can just go home if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” you respond quietly. “It’s kind of nice, I haven’t been this close to a man in a while,” you chuckle.

Minho knows it’s a joke, all in good fun,  but the implications of it are impossible to ignore. He wonders for a second — running the sentence through his brain a few times before truly asking himself what he’s really wondering.

Is this…sexual tension?

of course, it’s not the first time he’s ever experienced the concept of sexual tension. But not with you. Not like this. When the two of you briefly dated the first time, sex had never even been on the table; he realized later, after the fact, that this was because you had firmly been in friendship mode the entire time, and never truly viewed him sexually. As someone who could be fucked. Who could fuck you.

Minho doesn’t want to simply fuck you. He figures that if he had played his cards right in any number of situations, it’s possible that he already could have. It’s not completely unheard of for friends to fuck, and the both of you are obviously good-looking.

It’s not what he wants, though. And it’s definitely not worth tanking any potential future just for one night.

It is becoming painfully apparent, however, that the two of you actually share very little physical affection, even just as friends. Feeling your body pressed up against his has Minho realizing that he doesn’t remember the last time that the two of you hugged — really hugged. Not an arm linked or being dragged around by a wrist — but an actual, full embrace.

He snaps back into the present, thinking about checking his phone for the time, but knowing fully well that not more than two minutes could have possibly passed.

Around 2am, games end and cups dry as guests begin exiting the apartment. You both thank the host for the invite and the warm reception before heading out into the chilly night to make your way home. A somewhat bizarrely quiet walk back home, no doubt as a result of the game played.

Minho staunchly disbelieves in wishing death upon anyone, but if emotions were personified, they’d be the first to go.

You turn the second key into the door, lock clicking open and door lightly squeaking as it opens. Minho walks in first, kicking his shoes off and setting his coat up on the hanger — setting his wallet and keys onto the holder next to the door designated just for such things. You follow suit.

But it’s a swift switch of direction, when you reach forward and dig fingers into Minho’s shirt — pulling him towards you, into you, and spinning him so that his back presses up against the door. You push into him, chests meeting just as they had back in the tiny closet at your friends place. All part of the game.

This, however, was not.

And Minho’s head spins, the way your cold lips press up against his own, so fast that he almost doesn’t know what hits him. He doesn’t meet your enthusiasm at first — considering the fact that this is all a mistake, just a misunderstanding. Surely you simply fell into him, this is all just a funny scene in a romcom where the girl accidentally slips into the guy who is desperately in love with her and it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything at all.

You pull off of his lips, peppering kisses lightly to the side of his mouth, “Minho,” you whisper between two, “kiss me back.”

“I—” he tries to respond, but before he knows it, your lips are pressed to his hard again and now he knows it’s intentional, despite not knowing why. Part of him wishes he was a better man, a stronger man. A man that could resist the temptation of experiencing bliss for even just a moment in time.

But he isn’t.

Minho brings his hands up, cupping the sides of your face and kissing back against you with matching firmness. He pulls himself off of the door and brings his body forward and against you. He’s all encompassing, feeling as though he’s attempting to devour you. Not far from the truth, perhaps.

It’s sloppy, messy. Minho thinks that the two of you never kissed like this before, not even during the brief stint of dating. He wonders for a moment what has changed, neither of you having drank that much that night, nothing was different in your relationship — not really.

He was forever constant. “I love you” running through his head each second that he’s able to taste you on him in that short time before you carefully pull from him and smile at the sight of his bright red, brutally kissed lips.

“We should go to bed,” you say, gently holding one of his hands in your own.

“Yeah,” the only thing he can manage to utter out that won’t expose him as everything he really is.

“Thank you for tonight, it was really fun,” you say, slowly pulling your hand from his own, and Minho only nods and whispers “sure” in reply as you turn and head towards your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Minho stands there in the doorway of the apartment, in the aftermath of a whirlwind that he’s sure will be just as quickly forgotten by you as it had been decided upon. The worst bit, he thinks to himself, is that he’ll probably never forget that moment for as long as he lives, given that they come to him so few and far between.

When he sends himself to sleep that night, opening the scrapbook of memories of us that he has carefully cultivated in his mind, he slots it away along with all of the rest. So, so, many memories of moments in time in which he’s allowed to experience paradise.

The mere existence of you, over the years, grows to be so big inside of him. All consuming.

“Minho.”

And he’s barely conscious at all, only drawn awake by the utterance of his name and the way that every expanse of his flesh that your fingertips touch leaves a trail of fire in it’s wake.

“Touch me.”

It’s all a whisper, barely legible, so little that he believes for a moment he may still just be asleep. He focuses for a second — as hard as he can will himself — on the physical sensation of you pressed up against his side, in his bed, hand roaming the exposed skin of his chest under his duvet — only dipping low enough to brush against the waistband of his boxer briefs and that is the moment that he is brought wide awake and to his senses, tensing strongly under your touch — so strongly that it causes you to pause and slowly pull back from him.

“Should I go?” you ask, and he becomes starkly aware of how standoffish he appears, quickly responding that no, you should not, before reaching over to you and snaking a hand of his own around your waist and under your loose bed time shirt.

As much as he wishes nothing more than to genuinely be lost in the moment, his mind takes him to countless what if’s, as it always does in such situations. Feeling the way you move beside him with every press of his hand into the apex of your thighs, he relishes the look, the sound — of course — but at the fore front of his mind, and his chest, the painful feeling of emotional strangulation in his throat; knowing what this is to you, and precisely what it isn’t.

Equally inconsequential to the both of you but in strikingly different ways: to you, a quick release, and to Minho: the image of you coming just another moment added to the scrapbook of his insignificance.

For the first time possibly ever, when Minho walked into the dining room in the morning for his coffee, you’re already up, sitting there waiting for him. A common scene but flipped, that feels so frequent to him now. Constantly unsettled in all of the ways that he thought he had been.

“Morning,” he says, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring himself a drink, then walking over to join you at the table. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you say. And that’s all.

He had hoped that deep down, the two of you could get out of this situation unscathed. It wasn’t much. Just a hand down your panties and then you retired to your own room again for the night. That’s what Minho told himself for the entire rest of the night that he couldn’t sleep, at least. It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. Everything will be fine.

“We should talk.”

Ah.

“About last night.”

Minho knew that already.

“Okay,” he says, almost sheepishly — a tone not often worn by him, but with a million thoughts running through his mind and almost all of them meaning the worst, it was all he could manage out in response.

“I’m not blaming you, obviously, I started it,” you begin, rolling your eyes — at yourself mostly, but painfully so to Minho all the same. “But we shouldn’t cross lines like that. Like I said, totally my fault, I just don’t want there to be the wrong idea or anything, ya know?”

Yeah, he knows.

As far as he’s concerned — truly, all things considered — this was the best possible outcome, actually. On a scale of terrible to catastrophic, this was much closer to the terrible end of the spectrum. Obviously, you weren’t going to confess your undying love for him and how you wanted to be with him forever and ever, but if the only wound Minho has to leave with is the reminder that he will only continue to suffer in all of the same ways he already had been; he writes that off as a win, as pathetic as it was.

He chuckles in response, corner of his mouth upturning as he gives you a playfully devilish grin from over his mug, “Wasn’t good enough, huh?”

Laugh through the pain.

“Oh my god Lino, really? Stop it! Don’t make it weird!”

He watches you shy away in embarrassment, hiding behind the newspaper you had in your hand and continues to laugh. He knows it’s not the case, but he has to keep things light — especially because of the way his chest feels so fucking tight in that instant.

Naturally, you take it as his admittance to the terms, which is as intended by him. Meanwhile, Minho wonders how long he can stand being reminded of all of the ways he will never be the one for you. Yes, he chose this. Yes, he would choose it again.

but still, he wonders sometimes.

Placing your used mug in the sink and filling it with water, you grab your belongings and head towards the door, pulling your keys from the rack and waving at him. “I’ll let you know when I’ll be home!” before turning on your heel and running out of the door.

Minho remains in his seat, still staring up at the front door long after it has already closed behind you. Despite being an often self-reflective man, it’s the first time ever — truly ever — that he finds himself feeling almost guilty about the thought that crosses his mind, going just as quickly as it had come. A fleeting conception in a split second of hurt.

It’s so fucking exhausting loving you.

Is this resentment?

When the next party rolls around — only a few weeks later, Minho makes it a point to be more mindful. No more drunk party games, no more passing physical touches. It’s not the end of the longing, not by a long shot.

But suppose it might be time, he thinks to himself. He’s been thinking it to himself since that morning at your dining room table.

You see, the thing about Lee Minho is how he loves totally. Completely. With every fiber of his being, and despite some times coming off as cold or standoffish, the one thing that was always going to be true of him was that once you were his: you were his completely.

Well, the better way of looking at it was that you had him completely, rather than the other way around.

A contract that Minho once happily signed his life away to, now feeling bitter to the thought — for the first time since that night at the house party back home where you met, Minho contemplated letting go. Moving on. Properly.

But he knew that that meant letting you go, and that was a tough pill to swallow.

You had noticed the way that Minho no longer cared after you the way that he once had, but in ways so subtle that you almost questioned if they were there at all. The tiniest gestures and changes: Minho was far from rude, far from mean, not even particularly uncommunicative.

But he was distant. Impersonal in a way that felt brand new, like a stranger of exact likeness had moved in overnight.

Minho contemplates all of the ways in which he can forget you, while you, unknowingly, contemplate all of the ways in which you can retrieve him.

Two people simply never feel exactly the same way about one another at exactly the same moment.

So you try not to think much of it, watching the way the brunette across the room runs her hand down his arm as she laughs at whatever it is that he’s saying to her. You think of how charming and funny and warm Minho is. Kind, constant.

But the clock is ticking, unbeknownst to you.

There is a world in which the greatest tragedy is a love story that, despite both people feeling the same — fails to occur simultaneously. As the sand in the hour glass for Minho ticks away, yours only just begins — and the problem being, you just don’t know. An alternate universe where the glimmer that would appear in Minho’s eye each and every time he met yours — it didn’t live any longer, and it’s typically only in those moments of hindsight that you ever really noticed it had existed at all. In it’s absence.

Minho looks over towards you from across the room during a short pause in the conversation with this other woman, and it’s different. Surely you’re not imagining it now. It’s still him, it’s still warm, and he still carries care, concern for you.

But a glimmer of light behind the eyes dims with every passing second, before turning back to the person in front of him and grinning wide.

Had you always…?

When the night ends and the two of you head home together, it’s silent for the majority of the way. Minho carries a half empty beer bottle in hand with him and a cigarette in another — you weren’t fond of when he smoked but it had become a social drinking thing he picked up since living in the city. Besides, who were you to say anything about it?

Saying anything to Minho at all now felt completely foreign to you.

Getting back to the apartment building, Minho sets the glass bottle down on the street and heads up with you, still in silence and putting out his cigarette at a trash can just before the stairs. it feels like five hundred flights of stairs despite only being five, but finally reaching the front door feels like a god send. Reprieve. Being near him…you now find suffocating.

“Night,” you say in feigned brightness before turning and heading towards your bedroom, hopeful that you can make it out of this night relatively unscathed.

“Is everything alright?”

The first thought to your mind, is “no,” obviously, because it’s not. The second, is the better choice.

“Yeah of course, I’m just tired,” you laugh, “exhausted from watching you flirt with that girl all night I guess!”

It drops from your lips before you even have a chance to control it, petty bitterness lacing each and every word and it’s so obvious, too. Completely transparent in it’s contempt. You wince as you turn back towards your door and can only pray that he takes it as the joke you only barely were capable of tonally implying.

Minho’s taken aback, confusion splashed across his features.

“What?”

“I’m kidding, goodnight!”

“You don’t get to do that.”

And all you want to do is run away to your bedroom and hide, go to sleep, try again tomorrow, but it’s the tone of his voice in those quiet words that stops you. That, and the growing romantic inquisitiveness for him in your heart.

“You don’t get to—” Minho starts again, but pauses, and you can tell the way that he sounds; his voice, his demeanor even without the ability to see him, he’s angry. Years of pent up emotional obstruction, after all. “You can’t act like this, not about that. That’s absolutely not fair.”

You finally turn around to face him as he still lingers in the doorway of the entrance, not even having removed his coat or shoes yet.

Minho wears a mask almost all of the time around you, and for a short while, he remembered what it had been like to live without you being at the forefront of his ever waking thought — incredibly selfish of you, he thinks to himself, to place yourself there once again. He had almost remembered what it had felt like to feel whole again — to not have to wear the mask that hides each and every pathetically tragic thought and feeling that came to him.

The mask is still off, evidently, from the way sorrow graces his every feature in the dimly lit entry way of your apartment. The place that may surely become the grave for you both, in some way or another.

“Minho, I—” you respond quietly, sadly. It sounds exactly the way you sounded when you broke up with him and stings in all of the exact same ways, Minho recalls.

He never was able to forget, after all.

“I don’t know, I must have just had a bit too much to drink,” you say, trying to laugh off the entire situation. “It’s not an excuse, of course, it’s not like you’re my—”

Minho’s eyes had since pulled to the side, jaw clenched in irritation, until the utterance of those words left your mouth. Eyes now pulling in your direction.

“Your move,” he thinks to himself in the moment.

“You’re not my boyfriend or anything,” and it’s the twist of that specific word that just so perfectly does the same to the perpetual knife in the heart that he’s carried for you for years.

You simply chuckle, hoping that the moment passes so that the two of you can go to sleep and carry on like normal in the morning.

“You’re so fucking selfish,” Minho spits, and the words feel like a slap to the face, because what? Where is this coming from?

Little do you know.

“What the fuck?”

“Love to play house, have a man around to go out with, to hold your bags for you, to rub you off one every now and then when it suits you,” he says, the resentment fully flowing through his tone with every word. “And then have the fucking gall to be jealous when I just talk to another woman? Do you hear yourself?”

It’s not the words that he’s saying, because he’s right, but rather the way that he’s saying them. Minho has never spoken to you like this in all of the years that the two of you have known each other.

Words coming from a place of the deepest contempt, and sounding just the same.

“You don’t get to talk to me like this,” you finally respond, walking back in his direction as he goes back to grabbing his wallet and keys — the only things he had happened to set down upon walking in. “Minho, it’s not fucking okay to talk to me like that.”

“Nothing about this situation is okay!” he shouts, turning back towards you and dropping his wallet from his hand; it landing in such a way that numerous items spill from it, although, he notices not — having been caught up in the moment. “You have no idea. You don’t have a clue what it’s like being around you every day. You’ll never fucking get—”

It’s then that Minho pauses, noticing the way that your eyes had stopped watching the way his lips tore into you and had settled towards something on the ground. Following yours, they land on presumably the same item that your own had just moments earlier.

A lone polaroid photograph from the first Christmas festival since moving to Berlin together — your lips playfully planted to his cheek. Even after all of those years, the quality of the photo had not waned. Perhaps Minho had just taken extra special care of it — just as he had with all of your other memories before.

“Minho…”

Perhaps this is it, defeat after all, he contemplates. Years of playing a dangerous game, all leading up to this moment.

Failure. Freedom?

“Here’s the truth,” he says, airy in tone and eyes still dropped to the ground, not daring to look back up and chance meeting yours. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. Nothing makes me happier, and nothing makes me sadder — than you.”

A pause takes the room, neither of you being entirely sure what to say in the moment. It’s been such a long time coming, the confession from Minho — feeling immediately liberated upon the last word leaving his mouth, in spite of what it was, and in spite of what it meant, too.

Maybe this was freedom after all.

“And I’m moving out.” he finalizes his statement, bending down to gather the belongings from his wallet and carefully placing them back into the spots from which they came — the photograph included.

“What if I wanted to try?” you say suddenly. “Again, I mean. Try again.”

And in moments like these, Minho desperately wishes he were a stronger man, a man more capable of doing what’s best, what’s right, what’s safe.

“Don’t,” he responds, a pathetic plea to talk you down from whatever it is that you’re attempting to do. Unconvinced that it’s coming from a place of genuine reciprocation.

Change can be terrifying, sometimes people will do anything to avoid facing whatever may lie ahead. A concept that Minho finds himself all too familiar with.

But it’s the look on your face in that very instant, that has Minho halting with his hand on the doorknob. You won’t beg, you wouldn’t, and it’s not fair;  too much to ask of a man that had already given you everything of himself before you even knew it. Maybe that was his fault, maybe it was yours.

Maybe it was everyone’s, and also no ones.

But what if the timelines did manage to overlap — just briefly — just long enough. Strings of fate barely holding onto each other by a thread before the inevitable snap of discontentment. That is, unless force be relinquished in just the knick of time.

Could they do it? Had they done it?

“For the last time,” Minho starts, and for the first time — in all irony — with full transparency. “I will do anything for you, so tell me.”

You know it’s easier for you in that moment than it’s ever been for him in all of the years that he’s put himself aside to be next to you, but the fact does not do much to quell your fear of the unknown, the what if’s. You wonder how Minho has lasted, living every day in and out just like this — and worse.

But you have to do it.

“I want to try again,” you answer, looking up at him through lashes and tears welling in your eyes ever so slightly. “I know it’s selfish to ask you to stay, but I have to. Please stay. Please try again.”

A man that always prided himself on being a bit cool, tough looking — all too happy to rush towards you and scoop you into his arms after the words finish leaving your lips — wasting no time pressing his own to yours, as well.

“Don’t expect too much of me,” you say, somewhat playfully between kisses, “I haven’t been in love with you for as long as you have with me.”

“Oh shut up,” Minho replies, kissing you hard again.

And it’s not the first time Minho touches you sexually — not even in the month, but this time is different — carrying you with legs around his waist to the couch in the living room, plopping you with back against the cushion and immediately covering you with his entire being, kisses become more and more hurried and needy. So needy. The way you feel in your stomach makes you think you might just be right there with him.

Minho wastes no time pulling his torso off of you and prying his shirt off, following suit with your own before quickly working towards his jeans; the sound of belt buckle clattering and zipper pulling resonating in your ears, and it’s enough just then to realize that this is really happening. Part of you is a little surprised that it hasn’t yet.

Better late than never.

Minho stands to pull his jeans from his legs, and once again follows through with your own — pausing to really take in the sight before him. Sure, he’s seen you in swimwear before, and even changing, but this was different.

This was for him, this was meant for him to see now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, carefully lowering himself back down to you and shuffling his hips in between your legs; hardened length settling just against your clothed core and eliciting a sigh of relief, but also desire from the both of you, sighs immediately swallowed by the others mouth in between fervent kisses. “You’re perfect.”

You relish in the way that Minho makes an attempt to consume you entirely that night. Lightly toned body pressed fully against your own, his hips gently pressing against your own as his hands snake up and into your hair — fingers wrapping within strands as if you hold you in place, as if to ensure you could never leave him. Not now. Not after all of this.

Chaste kisses following the natural curve of your jawline, down towards your ear and up against it, Minho whispers that he loves you but his voice dripping with desire, with passion, and you believe that truly nothing could sound better to you. Minho still ever so delicately grinding against you — as if with no intent at all — completely encompassing you beneath him and breathing, whispering in your ear, the feeling comes onto you quickly. Not that you will orgasm, but that you desperately need to.

“Minho,” you groan, bucking your hips up to meet his own, “Don’t. Just—”

It’s not really a sentence, and so Minho chooses to not acknowledge it as such.

“Hm?” he quietly responds, pulling his left hand down from it’s entanglement in your hair and caressing the side of you all of the way down until it finds it’s resting place on the underside of your thigh. Pulling it up and out to give Minho a better angle to not fuck you with, it makes you want to cry in desperation. You find it unbelievable how quickly you’ve unraveled beneath him after all of these years. Had this been the case all of this time, or was it a simple matter of the strings of fate perfectly aligning at just the right moment.

The thought it interrupted by the man above you, whispering in your ear if it’s okay, if he can have you, and ignoring all of the patriarchal implications of the concept of a woman giving her body to a man; in the moment, in a vacuum, just between the two of you. It feels right.

And so, you are happy to have him.

Minho allows your leg to drop to free up his hand and release himself from his fabric confines — fingers then gently making their way to the side of your panties and carefully toying at the side — but not enough to make much happen, and Minho laughs at your impatience from under him, huffing against his face at his lack of being inside of you.

“Where did all of this come from?” he quips against the side of your face, and you choose not to acknowledge it in favor of focusing on the main event; the way he finally pulls the fabric aside and exposes you to the tip of his length and wasting no more time pressing into you slowly. Such a delightfully pleasant stretch as you adjust to him — and Minho feels it — every pulse and squeeze of your walls around him as he attempts to steady himself inside of you. It’s been so long, that he’s wished for this moment, he thinks about how it’s somehow even better than he ever could have imagined it being — your warmth enveloping him in every conceivable way and all at the same time. Emotionally, mentally, physically.

You can feel his breath against your ear, the way it already begins to lose it’s cohesion with the first few gentle strokes into you, but really, it’s that first groan of “fuck” into your ear that has you reeling, and your orgasm creeping up on you much faster than you had ever thought possible. The throaty, airy, desperation in his voice — so weak because of you, so absolutely enamored by you in all ways.

It wouldn’t be long, not for either of you. It had already been too long, it turns out.

“M—Minho, I—” you whimper out and against the skin of his shoulder: a desperate plea of your own. “I’m going to come soon, what the fuck,” in much fewer and less complete words, but you’re thankful that somehow he must have caught the memo, lifting his torso up with his hands planted flat against the couch cushion beneath you in an attempt to fuck into you better, more thoroughly, the best attempt he can make in the moment to try to get you there before him. He hasn’t said it, but you can tell that he’s close — too close for his liking, surely.

“Close?” he sputters out, forgoing sentences altogether, and with a quick nod and a biting back of a sharp whine, Minho changes the angle of his hips in such a way that grinds his pelvis right against your clit and you swear in that moment, you think you’ll pass out on the spot. Repeated chants of his name along with desperate requests to not stop and it’s a handful more presses of his hips into your own before your eyes roll into the back of your head before clenching shut; mouth ajar in silent shouting as your orgasm washes over you in intense waves, the man between your legs never relenting until his own catches him, following your lead of pleas of names as he does his best to fuck the both of you through your orgasms, until his body no longer reads capable of cooperating and he collapses — once again pressing his torso flush against your own and panting hot breath into the curve of your neck.

It does cross your mind, albeit briefly: that perhaps this would now be the end of everything as you know it between you and Minho. That maybe everything the two of you had experienced up until that moment had just been a journey to this — that no one was in love, that none of this had been real all along.

But when Minho pulls himself back up a bit, granting enough space between your two bodies to once again allow himself to plant kisses on every centimeter of skin that his mouth could possibly reach, all the while telling you all of the ways in which he’s madly, desperately and completely in love with you, you actually do wonder if maybe sometimes, just maybe, two people can feel the precisely the same way for one another, at precisely the exact same moment in time; because surely if it were possible, it would feel just like this.

Between kisses onto the flesh just below him, Minho contemplates all of the ways in which this was never meant to actually be. He knows that deep down, nothing he did ever put him in a position in which he deserved this, that he was never owed love, or sex, or you.

He wonders how he ended up so lucky, after all. Minho thinks back to the first year that you both moved to Germany together, and the first christmas festival — the night that the two of you took the polaroid photograph that he would forever keep with him everyday since that night, unbeknownst to you. He still remembers every detail perfectly, right down to the way your lips felt pressed against his cheek, despite knowing so many more feelings now.

Minho pulls himself up, just barely — only enough to reach your cheek to kiss you in just the exact spot that you had kissed him that night, and then whispers into the skin, “I love you.”

The single most important moment in Lee Minho’s life: that kiss at that Christmas festival that year. Life is only ever a series of moments that form us, shape us.

And the next second, we are in another moment.

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[bradshawsbaby]

pretty please can I request

carefully trying to turn the lamp on the nightstand off without letting go of their partner in their arms

for mr and mrs bradshaw?

Sorry it’s taken me a while to get to this! Life has been kind of crazy lately 😵‍💫

The first trimester of your pregnancy had been kicking your butt like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Between the fatigue and the almost constant nausea, you spent most days curled up on the couch in your comfiest pair of sweatpants, alternating between sipping on ginger ale and nibbling on dry crackers. In between, you’d check the clock to count down how much longer it would be until Bradley was home from work.

Having your husband home didn’t make your nausea or your tiredness disappear, but it always made you feel better to have him there to support you, especially as your first trimester progressed and it became increasingly difficult to keep anything down.

As your morning sickness—or rather, morning, noon, and night sickness—worsened, it became harder and harder for you to get a good night’s sleep. Which meant that it also became harder and harder for Bradley to get a good night’s sleep.

“You don’t have to stay awake with me,” you told him miserably as he sat on the bathroom floor with you, rubbing your back for the fourth night in a row. It was after two in the morning, and he’d barely gotten a wink of sleep with all your restlessness. “You have to be up in a few hours, honey. Go back to bed.”

“And leave you here all alone?” Bradley scoffed, as if the notion itself defied all logic and reason. “Yeah, right. I’m staying right here, as long as you need me,” he assured you, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder.

About thirty minutes later, after helping you to your feet and holding your hair back as you rinsed your mouth out with mouthwash, Bradley led you back to bed, one strong arm wrapped around your waist so that you could lean against his side.

Instead of turning his lamp off once the two of you had climbed under the covers, your husband simply turned to you, silently taking you into his arms and gazing down at you.

“What?” you asked curiously, raising an eyebrow as you gazed back at him, your body feeling exhausted beyond belief in spite of its refusal to go to sleep.

“Nothing,” Bradley grinned, shaking his head. “I just think you’re amazing is all,” he told you, tucking you closer against his side and kissing the top of your head.

“You’re just saying that,” you giggled softly, your cheeks growing warm at his praise.

“I would never,” Bradley gasped, feigning offense, which made you giggle all the more. He smiled, glad he had accomplished his goal of making you laugh and taking your mind off things, if only for a moment.

Yawning softly, your eyes began to droop as you rested your head against his shoulder. When Bradley began to hum softly, a song you couldn’t quite place the name of, you gently drifted off, falling into your first peaceful sleep in days.

Bradley’s voice tapered off as he realized that you had fallen asleep. Exhausted himself, he was more than ready to close his eyes and grab a few hours of rest before his alarm went off. But he wasn’t willing to let you go and risk waking you up by turning to shut his lamp off. So instead, he continued to hold you, one arm wrapped securely around you in a gentle cocoon, while his other arm ever so slowly reached towards his bedside table.

Keeping his eyes fixed on your face, Bradley froze when he saw you stir slightly, his heart leaping into his throat. Only once you had stilled did his arm continue towards its destination, his fingers blindly reaching for the light switch. It took a couple fumbling attempts, his breath held tightly to keep from disturbing you, but finally the bedroom was plunged into darkness and he found himself breathing easier.

Wrapping both arms around you once more, Bradley snuggled up under the covers and buried his face in your neck, instantly soothed and comforted by the cozy and familiar scent of your skin.

It was the best night’s sleep either of you had had in weeks.

cozy and content prompts

[ash5monster01]

Sunday Morning

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of trauma

Summary: Based on the song Sunday Morning by Maroon Five. In other words, Steve has considered running away from Hawkins every day considering all the trauma and heartbreak he’s endured here. Yet he can’t bring himself to do it because he doesn’t want to risk losing you. Especially since he can’t guarantee he’d ever see you again. So he’d rather continue to suffer here, as long as he has you.

word count: 700+

Masterlist

Steve woke up to the sound of light rain drops on the window sill outside his bedroom. The clouds painted the sky a bright white, a normal spring rain coating the side of the house. He hums in contentment as his eyes flitted to see his alarm read 10:05am. He felt a chill reach his arms and he looked to see you had curled up in most of his sheets. Smiling he lightly tugged them from your grasp, covering himself and nudging his skin flush against yours. He looks up at the grey sky and you move to fit perfectly against him.

“Morning handsome” you hummed against his chest and he smiled, realizing he didn’t need good weather to have a bright day. At least he had you by his side.

“You sleep good?” he asked this because you experienced nightmares, like the most of them. The horrors of Hawkins had tainted you all, now it was much harder trying to have a good night sleep never feeling 100% safe.

“Yes, I actually did” you smile at him, still buzzing with sleep. It was Sunday morning, you had nothing urging you to leave the comfort of his arms. This is proven to be true when you snuggle deeper into him, eyes closing with more sleep. Steve feels his heart yearn for you in ways he can't explain. All he knows is that he would glady hit the road and go as long as it led him back to you. After these last three years in Hawkins living life had just gotten so crazy and hard to do. Knowing that as long as he had you it would be all he ever needed.

"What do you want to do today?" he whispers to you, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. He doesn't even remember that it's storming outside. You're the only thing he can focus on. The only person he can see, even in the darkness of the upside down. So he will take lazy sundays, resting your bones together, driving slowly throughout the day. He never want's to leave.

"Stay in bed" you mutter into his chest and he chuckles as he begins to rub his hand down your side. His fingers trace every outline of your figure, paiting a picture with his hand. He loves the way you both had faced the worst of things, things that should tear people apart. Swaying together like branches in a storm and when the weather changes you're still together. So he accepts this may be all he needs. You, him, and lazy Sunday mornings. He never wants to leave.

"You don't have to ask me twice" he says as he rolls you to your back. Suddenly Steve Harrington's hovering over you, sheets spilling around each others bare skin and you giggle loudly as he leans down and kisses you. His pelvis pushing into your own and even though you'd much rather escape the nightmare of Hawkin's you know it would be useless because you would always come right back to him. Right back home and he may not know but it's all you need.

Sunday morning rain and calling out to him. So you deepen the kiss, hands curling into his hair because you'd rather fight a hundred demogorgan’s than ever leave his side. You relish in the taste of cherries on his lips and how sweet his skin sticks to your own. He's everything you love wrapped up in a perfect package and you'd never trade it for the world. When he pulls away for a breath you don't let him escape so easy, lips finding his neck, and fingers grazing through chest hair. He groans out for you, so well practiced in working him over. Yet with determination he still reaches over to the night stand where a vase of fresh flowers sit, your own personal touch. When you pull away from his neck he places the flower he stole in your hair.

"What's that for?" you ask and he just smiles at you. He wishes to be that flower in your hair, always with you. He supposes he is.

"Just for being you, and loving me" he says and your heart melts all over again for the boy above you.

"I love Sunday mornings with you"

[dorothy-rainbird]

Part 3

“You know, y/n is a very special person in my life. They found me, raised me, patiently taught me so many things…”

Kuni stared at the blue sky above him as he relaxed more under the giant tree of Windrise.

“They taught me about ‘good’ and ‘bad’, how to take care of myself and others…” he gently pat Bu napping away on his lap.

“Taught me how to handle emotions, how to deal with grief, manage anger, to open up…”

He continued,

“Everything, everything but one.”

…..

“They never taught me how to deal with this tingling feeling in my chest. It feels so strange…”

……….

“It’s as if I feel small around them. Am I scared of them? If I am then why do I want to be around them so much? Why so I want them to…”

“To..?”

“To h-hold me and….-“

“PFFT HAHAHAHA-“

“W-WHAT??” He managed to yell despite the embarrassment, his face was so red it looked like sunburn. Unfortunately because of that, Bu woke up. Realising they were being noisy, they quieted down a little.

“Sorry Bu, I didn’t mean to scream. Go back to sleep, Kay?” And so he did. Bu snuggled closer to Kuni, letting out a quiet “sqee” before dozing off again.

……….

“So Kuni…”

“Hm?”

“What I think you are experiencing is…”

“???”

“Love”

He was about to scream again but Venti shushed him in time, pointing at the blob on his lap. He nodded as Venti removed his hand and let him speak.

“You mean…love?”

“Yes”

“You sure it’s not some uh…something else? L-like something um..”

“Nope.”

“So…it’s like those novels?”

“wat”

“….”

“I um- *cough* uh…”

“Forget I asked”

“Gladly”

A very awkward silence danced among them as none of them felt brave enough to break it. Still, Kunikuzushi wanted to know more, so with one sharp inhale,

“If I’m in love with Y/n, then what should I do? Considering you’re the love expert of Mondstadt, any advice?”

“Of course of course! But for my advice so fine, won’t you invite me to dine?” Venti elbowed his arm with a smirk.

“Haha sure, Y/n will be delighted by your visit.” Kunikuzushi replied with a smile.

____________________________

“Thanks for visiting us Venti, but are you sure you don’t wanna stay over? It’s a little chilly tonight.” You stood by the door as Venti was about to leave. Yes Venti joined for supper but decided to leave earlier than usual.

“Ehe sweet Y/n, Don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine! Take care everyone and thanks for the delicious meal!” Venti waved you, Kunikuzushi and your slime child goodbye as he began to turn around and leave. You couldn’t help but feel as if he winked at Kuni…did those two have something going on? Nah.

“Bye Venti, goodnight!”

_____________________________

“Tip 1: Compliment them”

You stood by the sink, doing the dishes. Kunikuzushi saw this as a perfect opportunity. He shared a look look at Bu, who gave him a nod of confirmation. Then, with a deep breath made his way towards you. Leaning on the counter beside you, he went,

“Hey has anyone ever told you that y-your eyes are p-pretty?” bruh he stuttered. Without taking your eyes off the sink, you went,

“Aw thanks”

????

Expectation: *flushed y/n*

Reality: often disappointing

_____________________________

“Tip 2: Leave them small gifts”

“Okay Bu, the first plan didn’t go as expected. Time to step things up a little.” Kunikuzushi said as he picked the most perfect Cecelia of his garden. Bu wasn’t paying attention though, he was busy playing with another plant in the backyard. Kunikuzushi approached him with the flower and crouched down to his level.

“Bu, my son, my child.”

“Squeak?”

“Can I trust you to deliver this flower?”

“Squeak!”

“I knew I could count on you :)” Kunikuzushi pat him with a bright smile. He then balanced the flower on his head, hoping it won’t fall off.

“Okay Bu, I want you to deliver this flower to Y/n. Please don’t drop it…”

“Squeak!”

And with that Bu entered the house.

Expectation: “Did Kuni give me this flower?” *flushed y/n*

Reality: Kunikuzushi entered the house after a while, expecting to see a lovestruck y/n. His dreams were brutally shattered as he saw you hugging Bu and giggling while kissing the top of his “head”.

“Aww Bu did you get this for me? You’re so sweet!”

@angryhope @hana-chie @twst-123 @depressed-bitchy-demon @milza12 @inlovewithwaffles @shizunxie @koi-chairowo @someone-with-wild-imagination @melodibells @franini @xiaosimper @kithewanderingme @tinykokomi @rinaxst @shizunxie @thetwinkims @mouchie @einnunnie @myahandhurts @arima26 @we-wo-we-wo @themistcherry @miss-tea-cza @etherisy @bigcandlesmolbrain @n8mareee @peachytears11 @esthelily @imyme20 @teal-clouds-sword @general-kuri @apyrose @campanula-rotundifolia @shoujishu @thebeanofdoom @mentallyunpresent @scaramouches-girlfriend @alicehasdrowned @genderfluid-insomniac @claymitch @night-shadowblood-writes2 @justakiro @valeriele3 @peter-the-pan @erosdevil @blockswon @missb00bs @a-single-pizza @that-boi-sus @gullantys @ekrii @astr4ray @angelkazusstuff @multifandomvoyage @hikaru-exe @forgotten-blues @perpetually-simping @coquettemaiden @kisuneasahi @kunisbeloved @nebulaera

[oletus-writer]

ahh would you please please consider a nsfw alphabet for aesop carl? no worries if not! i really like your work, the luchino one was so good!

Ah, thank you for the compliment. I really didn’t think anyone would like the evil reptilian one. Sorry for taking a while, nsfw alphabets seem to be a pretty popular request, and they take a while.

Aesop NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: nsfw

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

He’s pretty tired, so aftercare is usually a few words of praise and toweling you down, before snuggling with you under the covers. If you want anything, such as a snack, he’ll begrudgingly get up and get you what you want.

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

If he had to choose, it would be your lips - how you wet them with your tongue, how they curve up when you smile, how soft they are. Your mouth is what he always look at when you speak, since meeting your eyes is harder. On him? Exactly the opposite of you - there aren’t that many things he likes about himself he likes, but perhaps he doesn’t mind his legs. You like to kiss them so much, so perhaps they’re not so bad.

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

He’s a pretty inexperienced guy, so you’ll have to be the one taking the reins. If you don’t want him to cum somewhere, he won’t, although, it does look good dripping down your thighs or splattered over your back.

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

He'd kind of want to fuck you in your sleep. Of course, the two of you have to discuss this beforehand, set boundaries, etc., but the allure of using you as a cumhole while risking you waking up is like sex with a corpse and semi-public sex without the illegalities.

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

He has absolutely no experience and doesn’t know what he’s doing. He has no time and no social skills to get any bitches. Although, he does know the basic anatomy, as he couldn’t function as an embalmer elsewise.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Classic missionary. It’s intimate, and feels like he’s in control of his life, for once. Although the initial embarrassment of being a virgin makes him want to hide his face, seeing yours is worth it.

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

Aesop is nervous, when it comes to sex, so he’s not the one to be making jokes in the moment. If you do, he might think it’s ruining the mood a bit, or be thankful that you’re trying to calm him down. Either way, he’d crack a small smile and move on.

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

He didn’t think that pubic hair would matter that much to people, so he doesn’t groom it at all. And about the carpet matching the drapes - his eyebrows are grey, so it would make sense for his pubes to be too.

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

He’ll whisper sweet things into your ear and constantly praise you, if he’s not too nervous to speak. He’s not romantic per se, since there won’t be candles or anything of the sort, but his heart will be swelling with love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

He’s done it a few times, but it’s never felt as good as your hands touching his penis. After meeting you, he’s masturbated more often, when he’s uncomfortable in asking you to do him the favour.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’d like to be topped and praised by you, to leave him hickey only the two of you would see. Being an insecure man, he’s unsure of whether or not he’s doing a good job in the moment. On a less vanilla note, he wouldn’t mind manhandling you (or being manhandled) on some of his rougher days. To use you as nothing but a toy to please him would calm him down if he’s ever angry.

L = Location (favourite places to have sex)

The bedroom’s always a safe place to have sex, and Aesop isn’t willing to risk his already suffering social life to fuck you in public. The couch is too uncomfortable, so the two of you would be sticking to the bed.

M = Motivation (what turns them on?)

Wear revealing clothes, touch him in all the right places, the works. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly horny, the right angle might even get his mind racing.

N = No (what turns them off?)

He’s quite a devoted man and would do almost anything for you, and that sometimes shows itself in sex. He’s not going to voice his turn offs, in fear of you leaving him, so you’ll have to encourage the communication. He doesn’t particularly like anything unsanitary or anything that would cause pain - he doesn’t get why, in these situations, the pain would become pleasurable.

O = Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? how skilled are they?)

With Aesop on the receiving end of oral sex, he’d be a whimpering, shaking mess, which is quite embarrassing to him. Once he gets used to the shame he feels, he’d prefer receiving the oral. While he’s got no experience, he’s a fast learner and would remember every act that makes you feel good.

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

Aesop is slow and sensual in fear of hurting you - he can’t go that fast, either, since the autism man is quite weak. Although, bottoming, he wouldn’t really mind, and would let you set the pace.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies)

To be in a situation for a quickie, one would have to be somewhere where having proper sex is not viable. That would mean being in a semi-public situation or close to some sort of commitment. Taking these risks would not be something Aesop is willing to do.

R = Risk (are they experimental? do they take risks?)

As long as it’s in private and the consequences aren’t too big, he’s fine with trying things out, even if it’s something he wouldn’t normally do. He won’t suggest anything, though, and isn’t very experimental at heart.

S = Stamina (how long do they last?)

One round, two if you’re going to stretch it. He hasn’t got a lot of exercise aside from matches. All that running doesn’t improve how exhausted he’d feel after cumming, though. Perhaps overstimulate him to see how he likes it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them?)

He doesn’t own any toys, and most likely didn’t realise sex toys existed. He’s a busy man, and never had he thought being so intimate with another human would feel this good.

U = Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

Don’t tease him, or he’d think he’s being punished. He doesn’t like to tease either - why do all this when the two of you could just have sex? To him, it wasted time.

V = Volume (how loud are they?)

Audible, but not too loud. You’d hear grunts, heavy breathing, and a few moans from him, but unless you’ve done something game changing, you won’t hear him scream. That doesn’t mean your name is exempt from his tongue, though; he’d be chanting it like a prayer.

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

Aesop has nice thighs, for no reason at all. They’re genetically curved and lean, and can squeeze your head with more strength than expected.

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

He’s a grower, with a 5.5 inch (13.9cm) dick when flaccid, becoming 5.7 (14.5cm) when erect. It’s got a vein on the side and the tip flushes beautifully when hard. It’s on the slender side, but is an overall pretty dick.

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

His libido is a bit lower than average, and he usually shuns the thoughts that do come. Even now, he feels a bit disrespectful in thinking those thoughts about you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep pretty quickly, faster than he’d fall asleep normally. He’d wrap his arms around you and either spoon you, bring your head to his chest, or bury his face in you. Any hesitation he might’ve shown in touching you is gone in his sleep. Finally, his features have smoothed out to something peaceful, and he can rest.

[riptunezune]

My headcanons of Clovis x Child of Aphrodite

*CoA (child of Aphrodite, any gender but in this case mostly female)

-these are also a few fanfic ideas that I have

**More here **

Took a while for Clovis to accept the fact a CoA likes him and for him to acknowledge his own feelings for them (Nico and a few other campers: Pollux, Stroll brothers, and (anyone else) who are close with Clovis and maybe even a particular wine god encouraged Clovis to give dating a try)

Clovis originally wanted to keep the relationship a secret to prevent any potential bullying that may occur to the child of Aphrodite-it didn’t work since CoA wanted to show how serious they were in trying to pursue a relationship with him and felt that Clovis didn’t think they meant it when they asked to date (they were also upset ~rightfully so)

Sometimes when they want affection or a kiss from Clovis, they would ask him in French; flirt with each other in french (if you’re lucky enough, you might see a bashful child of Aphrodite-very rare)

Clovis is passionate and good kisser but he’s always hesitant on making the first move

They took time to learn and make a quilt (night sky theme) from Athena's cabin for Clovis (he treasures it a lot and refuses to let anyone else touch it)

Sometimes they experience emotions that’s not very expected of a child of Aphrodite such as …

Jealousy ,they can get extremely jealous around those that Clovis seems close to or those that Clovis has an easier time to fall asleep on the person’s shoulder /snuggle close to which sometimes they forced Clovis to do a bit of PDA in front of that person~Clovis is a little uncomfortable with PDA as he’s still kinda new to the dating life (Clovis got jealous once and according to that CoA it was “the most hottest thing” they’ve ever seen/ experienced out of all their past relationship -sometimes they often dream about the event to relive the moment)

Insecurity , they heard rumors that Drew and Clovis may had a thing in the past but no one’s really sure and they feel that they’re not pretty as Drew or whatever they do it’s either not good enough (sometimes they feel that way with Clovis’s close friends or the fact others expect them to fit the stereotypes of being an Aphrodite child)

Have gotten frustrated on what to wear because they really want Clovis to like them or get a few more seconds of his attention before he falls asleep (Clovis himself has sometimes worry that their dates might not go as well or he’s not doing enough)

Sometimes they wear something warm and fluffy at the camp fire (which they have noticed that Clovis is more likely to cuddle and sleep on them; can lead to a bit of competition with some of Clovis’s friends who are cold all the time and use him as a heater)

Have used tears to get their way of things (I feel like Clovis is a bit of a people pleaser and hates to see people upset or cry which he can give in most of the time)

Have used charm speak into getting Clovis to do what they want~usually more attention or affection (once they took it too far with charm speaking and they never wanted to put Clovis into that position or feeling again after they realized they took it too far)

Clovis has set up little gifts or surprises ahead of time with some help from other campers to hopefully make the child of Aphrodite happy or feel appreciated-it’s sometimes something that they’ve been eyeing on for awhile

Clovis lets them steal a few of his favorite hoodies if that means that they won’t take his pillows when he wants to take a quick nap

Have used Clovis as an excuse to skip camp activities or cabin tasks because how can they do anything if poor Clovis won’t let them go while he’s sleeping and holding them 😏😏😏

Have made false claims of nightmares or bad dreams just to get some dream dates with Clovis or even spend time with him (they secretly enjoying how he fusses and worries about the nightmares that are affecting them from good quality of sleep/sleeping)

They do push Clovis out of his comfort zone and sometimes drag him to do little errands or places that they enjoy (shopping, beaches, sometimes at their friends’-their friends grew to like Clovis)

Clovis can pick out pretty cute outfits for them if he’s gotten enough sleep and have surprised other children of Aphrodite where his make up skills are a lot better than theirs (only because he does occasionally run into famous makeup artists’ dreams and memories-he does pick up a few tips and tricks which he does help some campers learn if they have the patience with him but also to prevent all the children of Aphrodite from waking him up and having him do all their makeup~boy needs and loves his sleep; he will only make an exception to the one he’s dating which can lead to fights with their siblings about how unfair it is that Clovis only did their makeup but not theirs )

Other campers have learned to respect him as they know it’s not easy to date a child of Aphrodite but also there was a time Clovis left camp without telling Chiron to go to his mom’s place out of spite since he wasn’t getting enough sleep due to everyone kept him up for a week or so for personal reasons as well as a few pranks and he was at his limit~lasted 3-4 days since everyone’s sleep schedule was affected (Ares cabin and Nico were the ones who dragged him back to camp after they found where he went and tried to get him back by asking him nicely several times through iris messaging but it came to a point that they couldn’t wait any longer)

Chiron kinda put Clovis in house arrest (more in Clovis’s favor) as a punishment and had him spend more time with the CoA that he’s dating to reverse the domino effects that Clovis had “unintentionally” put the camp through (Clovis knew what he was doing when he left but things went mostly back to normal-less bullying on Clovis as the other children of Aphrodite made sure of that; Ares cabin also makes sure Clovis is where he’s supposed to be cause 1. He’s their fav go to person when it comes to nightmares, 2. He gives great massages when he needs them to relax to process their bad dreams, 3. They claimed the only reason why they brought back Clovis is because they “can’t perform” well on low sleep, but really they secretly view Clovis as their own)

Campers and staff weren’t able to get good quality of sleep since it was a hassle to comfort an upset CoA who affected other people’s beauty sleep which lead to conflicts for other campers in relationships (kinda like a domino effect), the other children of Hypnos weren’t fully paying attention to Clovis in their dreamscape lessons when he was trying to teach them proper bed care manners while helping those with bad dreams and traumatic ones as well as dealing with more challenging sleep paralysis demons, and Will didn’t want to get his therapist role back because that means less time with Nico which Nico would not be happy and is still a bit mad when Will had to step in for a bit while others were looking for Clovis

Clovis once fractured his neck and both his arms (long story) and they (CoA) had an enjoyable time spoon feeding him or hand feeding~they still do it after Clovis is all healed up and says that they don’t need to, but they want to cause Clovis is just too cute and precious to them (Clovis loves it tho but sometimes feels embarrassed; the Stroll brothers have teased him about it and called him a little baby dreamboat whenever he’s being feed by hand)

They had an argument with Mitchell only because Mitchell is worried that his friendship with Clovis might be affected with the fact Clovis is dating one of his siblings (plus Mitchell was Clovis’s friend first) and fears that his progress of getting Clovis to put more effort in his self appearance and have better self esteem might be undone

Dionysus unexpectedly gets involved in this whole relationship stuff (has to act as a mediator) because there was a huge argument between them (CoA) and Pollux (as well as a few of Clovis’s other friends) about the amount time Clovis spends with each one (Dionysus reluctantly picked up this role only because he secretly really appreciates how Clovis has helped Pollux a lot from the ptsd of losing his brother as well as other trauma from war and doesn’t want Pollux to spiral; Dionysus also sees bits of Castor in Clovis)

*when I saw this pic going around on ig, my first thought was Clovis and a child of Aphrodite 😍😍😍

Part 2

[blindmagdalena]

Yaaaaay, so glad asks are open again!

What do you think Homelander would have been like if he had never turned into a corporate toy? Do you think he could have turned into a good person or an actual hero?

I'm working on a story in which Homelander escapes the lab when he's 18 and goes on the live a (mostly) normal life.

I think he would have a desire to do good and even heroic things, mostly because that's what he was groomed to become from the moment of his conception. Also, he likes the attention heroes usually get, ofc, even if they are not sponsored by Vought.

I'm not sure how far I can take that, though, bc he still has so many issues to deal with - PTSD and a multitude of attachment disorders, for starters. Also, a skewed sense of morality and an extremely low mental age.

I would love to hear your thoughts!

yes! welcome back, darling!

ohhhhhh, this is a wicked premise! since he's 18, we do have some canon indicators of how he might behave at this stage of his life. when he was 5, Vogelbaum described him as a very sweet boy who liked to snuggle ( i want to cry every time i remember this ) but that he didn't need him to be sweet, he needed him to be strong. that is definitely a good lead on how he was raised from that point.

the next jump we have in his childhood is this deleted scene, where he honestly is very unsettling. i have a lot of gripes with the young Homelander we see in Diabolical because he's just not weird and off-putting enough for me. Homelander really needs that unsettling homeschooled kid energy.

(i very much say this as someone who WAS the weird homeschooled kid)

we also know he was shown off to a group of private investors when he was 16, and the anxiety he experienced was so severe he flew off and cried. Homelander's lack of real world experience and inability to navigate it is a weapon that Vought utilized to keep him under their thumb.

so i'd say something to keep in mind would just be his sheer inexperience. i'd treat him like an alien from another planet whose only understanding of earth is baseball, select american history trivia and the bible. any good he wanted to do in the world would require the very stressful ordeal of actually learning the world he lives in, which in this case would be America in 1999.

he would probably latch onto any kind of authority figure he could find and base his morality on theirs.

i definitely think you could do a lot of fun and interesting stuff with this! 🖤

[iwaizumis-bitch]

NSFW ALPHABET + hajime iwaizumi

note: happy birthday the absolute love of my life, not proofread

content warnings: overuse of 🥺🥺, sex sex sex, it’s a nsfw alphabet it’s all sex headcanons.

A= aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

he’s such a gentleman!! he gently pulls his cock out of you, planting a kiss on your forehead. he tells you how good you were, helping you walk to the bathroom and giving you the privacy to do your business. he’ll change the sheets then hop in the shower with you, letting you stand under the shower head so you weren’t cold. wraps you up in a fluffy towel & helps blowdry your hair☹️❤️. gives you one of his tees and a pair of boxers or sweats to wear and snuggles with you until you fall asleep.

B= body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

his favourite body part of his own are definitely his arms. he loves how easily he’s able to cage you between them, it gives him a power rush. especially his biceps, it gives him such an ego boost when he sees you checking them out.

his favourite body part of yours is your waist. it brings him such comfort just having his hand on it or arm wrapped around it. it’s the easiest way for him to protect you, he can just pull your body against his in a split second. also he holds onto it when hitting from the back.

C= cum (anything that has to do with it)

his cum is sooo thick🥺🥺. and there’s so much of it, he gets embarrassed. you love it though!! super yummy because yk he’s always eating healthy!! it’s sweet with a tang of salty bitterness and has a lovely aftertaste. he prefers to cum inside of you but if not he loves to just pull out and cum all over your pussy, watching as all of the creamy cum slides down to your asshole.

D= dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

loves hairy pussies so much!! he thinks it’s so hot that you don’t stick to the gender norms of having to shave it! rubs his nose against them whilst he sucks on your clit, humming at the feeling of them tickling him! will definitely help you trim it now and then but never too short.

E= experience (do they know what they’re doing)

mmm if we’re talking about college haji he’s definitely so inexperienced. he can barely contain a handy, let alone your mouth or pussy wrapped around him. gets more confidence over the years and becomes so experienced! plus he’s studying sports science so he’d learn a lot about women’s bodies 😉

current day iwa......god. he is ready to quite literally pound your pussy whenever you need it. he knows exactly where to angle his cock to have you gushing around him, all whilst toying with your soppy clit. 100/10, worth all the years it took.

F= favorite position

oasis or against the wall! loves any position where he's able to control the pace tbh. he loves being able to nip at your décolletage or perky nipples (when they're not bouncing around). he's down for any position that'll make you comfortable.

G= goofy (how serious are they)

he's serious 85% percent of the time. sex is a really intimate thing for him, and he takes both his own and your pleasure very seriously. there'll be the occasional tipsy sex where you're too giggly to take him seriously, and he adores it. there's no greater pleasure for him than feeling you pull away from his lips to break into a fit of drunken giggles.

H= hair (grooming habits)

oh my GOD. he has the thickest happy trail 🥺🥺. it starts just below his navel and trails down to his cock, thick 'n curly hair, just makes him look and feel more manly. his arms and legs are also really hairy & he used to be insecure abt it but now he knows how much you love all his hair so he loves it :')

I= intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

he's romantic most of the time. like i said^^^ he takes sex seriously and enjoys the intimacy of being inside of you. that's not to say he'll be rough when you're acting like a brat. if you're playing up or teasing he's not gonna be having it. he'll shove your face into the pillows and fuck you from behind, calling you a whore for his cock.

J= jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

he used to jerk off every night before you guys got together, always thinking of you. now that you two are actually together, he doesn't really need to because he has you, always eager to suck or sit on his cock. when he's away for games, he's always sending u nut vids of him standing over the phone as he grunts about how he wishes his hand was your pussy.

K= kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

he likes being tied up!! sometimes after a long day of yelling and stressing about his athletes, all he needs is for you to bound his wrists to the bed post and sink to your knees below him. you know how stressed he is, so you spend no time teasing him, rather taking him down your throat and sucking until his cockhead squirts his cum all down it.

L= location (where they like to get it on)

ooo! he definitely loved shower sex. yk his big arms aren't gonna drop you, he's so confident he can press you up against the shower wall with just one arm. also it's very convenient because y'all can clean up right there and he won't be tempted to go for a round two (most of the time, at least)

M= motivation (things that turn them on)

lingerie!!!! he loves seeing you in any lingerie, lacy, satin, cotton, you name it and it'll have him all over you. he likes creams, whites, and the occasional black colours on your body, but after you surprised him with that hot pink set once, he decided he doesn't care about colours either.

N= no (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

not into any kind of anal, on him or you.

O= oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

prefers giving over receiving because ur moans boost his ego. the only man on earth who can make you cum five times in 20 minutes. he can’t even go a day without his tongue lapping up all of your cum & juices.

not to say he doesn’t like receiving head!! he just gets shy because he can’t hold in all his moans🥺, and thinks it makes him less masculine but it’s quite possible the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

Q= quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

doesn’t like quickies bc he knows if he starts he won’t stop :((. but if ur are very very very needy he’ll make u cum in a couple minutes it’s fine.

R= risk (do they like to try new things)

tbh he’s not very keen on trying new things you’ll definitely have to push him a lot and he will eventually try and if he doesn’t like it it’s fine!! if he does....you are in for a long night

S= stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

3 rounds standard. can go for 4 or even 5 if he’s feeling extra pent up. hmmmm the first two/three rounds are pretty slow but for the last one/s he’s definitely releasing all of his stamina!! rip to ur pussy

T= toys (do they like to use toys on themselves/you)

oooo he definitely uses a bullet vibrator on you. will press it right up against your clit and nipples and watch u squirm underneath him🥺🥺

himself?? he’ll never tell a soul but during away games when his hand just isn’t doing it and you’re already asleep, he’ll bull it out and use it on the tip of his cock!!

U= unfair (how do they tease)

he knows how much you love his voice. he is not opposed to leaning down and whispering in your ear ‘how fucking hot you look look right now’, and ‘how much i wanna taste your little cunt’, in the middle of a dinner with your family. the way your thighs squeeze together and you start to shift around AAAA he loves it

V= volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

for the first few rounds it’s definitely just the low grunts. he’ll let out deep little ‘fuck baby’s, and ‘oh yeah? that feel good?’, to tease u and let u know how good ur making him feel.

ooo but when he’s close to cumming he starts to let out those deep moans and his breathing gets waaaaay heavier

W= wild card (random headcanon of any sort)

he loves to be tied up and dommed every once in a while! sometimes when he comes home from a stressful day all he needs you to do is tie his wrists to the bedpost and just tease and suck on the tip of his cock.

X= x-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

i have thought about this so much and i can't decide if he would be 7 or 8 inches. im going to be very specific here and say 7.8 inches. he's tanned, and has bigggg balls. his tip is dark pink, and he always has so much pre cum, you don't even need lube.

Y= yearning (sexdrive level)

he’s not constantly horny, but he’s pretty much close to being just that with the sex life you two have. he can get through most work days without getting a hard on, but yk...maybe you wanna tease him sometimes. send him a few pics of the new bra you got, see how long it takes for him to come up with some excuse and drive home.

Z= zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

he’s definitely sleepy after but he makes sure you’re alright and cleaned up before he dozes off

[buckybarnesb-tch]

A-Z NSFW Alphabet

Klaus M.

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

•Klaus takes Aftercare quite seriously, especially because he knows he can get very intense at times

•Depending on what you've been doing he will usually clean you up and snuggle you on his chest, talking to you until you fall asleep

•If it's been a particularly intense night however he will carry you to the bathroom and draw you both a bath, he will wash your hair and body, letting you relax in the hot water for a while before drying you off and dressing you in one of his oversized shirts, snuggling you in bed by which time you are usually already asleep

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

•Klaus' favorite body part of his (when it comes to you at least) is his hands, he loves touching you and he will take every possible opportunity to do exactly that.  Whether it's holding your hands in public, wrapping his arms around you to hold your ass or trailing his hands down your body as he worships you, touching your soft skin will never get old to him

•Klaus' favorite body part of yours is your neck.  Not just because he enjoys biting you, although that is a big part of it but he loves smelling your scent and your neck is the strongest area for that.  He can almost always be found with his nose buried in your throat or with his fangs in your soft flesh

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

•He's a vampire and so are you, he's never had to worry about pregnancy and even if he did have to you knew it would just turn him on

•He will cum inside of you every single time, sometimes even shoving himself inside of you after a blowjob just to fill you up, loving to know that you're full of him, dripping with him, full of his scent in a way no other vampire will ever be able to mark you

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

•One thing Klaus loves that only you know about is being praised

•It wasn't something he ever told you about but you figured it out after making a comment along the lines of 'So fucking good for me Alpha, make me feel so good.'

•It caused a very unexpected and abrupt orgasm that he was a bit embarrassed about but you thought it was adorable, you never gave up on praising him again after that and as much as he denies it, he loves you for it

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

•Very experienced

•He's had an active sex life since he was human over 1000 years ago and according to him he had spent all of his vampire years dedicated to learning everything about pleasing his partners, something you can attest to him being quite good at

•You however, he doesn't care how experienced you are, he's quite eager to teach you everything

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

•The hybrid will happily take you in any position he can however he prefers being able to see your face and force you to look at him as he takes you apart

•One of his favorite positions is pinning you to a wall in his house (something that his sibling hate quite a bit) wrapping your legs around his waist and either making you look at him or digging his fangs into your throat

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

•It depends on his mood

•Klaus can quite enjoy teasing you, he has his moments of goofiness and actually finds the sound of your 'adorable giggle' to be a turn on

•If he is in one of his notorious moods however then that goes out the window quickly

•One thing you quickly realized was that having you when he's in a bad mood is quite helpful in calming him down and the fact that you enjoy him taking out his bad mood on you doesn't hurt either

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

•He keeps himself tidy and trimmed, though he's not overly hairy to begin with

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

•The Hybrid can be quite romantic, he quite enjoys wooing and impressing you

•He quickly realized his money wasn't something you were impressed by but it doesn't stop him from taking you to his favorite restaurants, some of the nicest places you've ever seen, he takes those opportunities to care for you and those intimate moments have been some of your favorite in your relationship

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

•He doesn't see a reason to masturbate when he has you

•For the most part he's always been able to find a partner to take care of his needs, masturbating for him was a thing of his human years for the most part

•Since being with you however he has not once 'taken care' of himself, why would he touch himself when he can fuck your tight pussy whenever he wants, and even if he can't your hand feels quite a bit better than his own

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

•Slight Praise Kink

•Daddy Kink, one of his personal favorites

•Age play-Dd/Lg

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

•Klaus is someone who can fuck his mate anywhere, over anything, against anything, sometimes not needing anything at all, you enjoying how he's strong enough to lift you into the air and just fuck up into you

•His favorite place however is probably just fucking you in bed, actually being quite a snuggler after you're finished and wanting you to sleep on his chest for as long as possible

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

•The Hybrid doesn't need any motivation, his stamina is insane and he is always ready to pin you down

•Just smelling your scent can be enough for him, especially when it's been more than a few hours

•God forbid you actually telling him that you want him. He will be on top of you wherever you are in an instant

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

•Pain

•He doesn't like seeing you in any kind of pain, god forbid him seeing tears in your eyes, any time he does he is instantly ready to kill anyone who has hurt you so if he's the one who does it he finds it quite hard to forgive himself

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

•Klaus would be a liar if he said he didn't enjoy your soft lips wrapped around his cock, he will happily take every opportunity to feel just that however he prefers giving you pleasure in this form

•He loves the whines, squeaks and moans you let out when he sucks on your clit

•One of his favorite things to do to you is eat you out, wrapping your legs tightly around his head so that he can enjoy feeling them shake as he makes you cum over and over again until you feel like you're going to pass out

•He actually pushed too hard once and you did pass out, waking up moments later wrapped in warm blankets and snuggling into your Hybrids chest, the fear on his face having been something you had never seen before and you couldn't hold in your giggle if you tried

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

•Klaus can be slow and sensual, usually when you've had some kind of romantic date or when he knows you need him to be gentle and loving, he's quite good at being able to know exactly when he needs to be tender with you

•Usually however he is a rough and passionate lover, preferring to not have to completely hold back his strength, he knows that when he uses his speed you don't have a hope of keeping up and he loves pinning you down and just using your body as he needs, making you cum over and over again until he's finally finished

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

•Klaus doesn't like quickies, he would much prefer to be able to take his time, enjoy you, and take you apart slowly

•However if that's not possible and you are somewhere he knows he can't just pick you up and carry you home he will absolutely pull you into a back room or into his car for a 'quicky' which often goes on a bit long to be called a quicky, usually ending in Elijah needing to come get you

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

•When Klaus wants you there's nothing that's going to stop him, short of you saying 'no', though you rarely ever do. Bars, theaters, a bookstore once, it doesn't matter where you are the risk is worth it to have you any way he wants you

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

•Hybrid. Enough said.

•Klaus can go for hours, though you are quite happy to keep up, sometimes even shocking him with how much you want to keep going

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

•Klaus doesn't really need toys and while he likes bondage, he is able to hold you still better than any rope or cuffs ever could

•The only thing he will occasionally use is a vibrator though that is a punishment

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

•He loves to tease but he also knows your limits very well, he knows just how hard he can push you

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

•Klaus wasn't a big moaner, however growling was a whole different thing.  Growling, Snarling, grunting. You know you've done something he likes everytime because he growls quite loudly, and so deep you feel it through his entire body

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

•Klaus, as a male werewolf, has a HUGE breeding kink

•He was nervous to tell you about it at first, he actually kept it to himself for quite a while but once it slipped out you weren't putting the genie back into the bottle, not that you wanted to

•As soon as he realized you were into it he was insatiable, hungry for you in a way that you absolutely loved and you weren't allowed out of his bed for the next 24 hours

•While he's never worried about cumming inside of a women he appreciates how much you love him pumping you as full as possible

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants)

•About 7 1/2 inches long but he is quite a bit thicker than any other man you've ever been with.

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

•He is ravenous

•Constantly horny, if he could fuck you 24/7 for the rest of his life he absolutely would, and sometimes it honestly seems like he's trying to

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

•It's very rare that he falls asleep before you do, you can't even fill up counting on one hand how many times it's happened

•He has always loved taking care of you and after sex is no different

•If it's been a particularly rough night he will run you a bath and let you soak, snuggled up to him, even letting you fall asleep, always waking up in bed afterwards however if it's not or you're too worn out he will clean you up and watch over you until you fall asleep

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[nowritingonthewall]

💍 with our Moon Boys please, especially Marc ☺

Hiya, I am so sorry for the late reply, this got way more angstier than I intended and tbh I was a little scared to post it. Thank you so much for sending this ask 🥰

!Content warning for the mention of trauma and child abuse!

A Marriage Headcanon for Marc

- It probably goes without saying that Marc would be the most protective husband that you could imagine. Laying his life on the line without thinking twice to keep you safe and always putting the needs of those he cares about before his own is just the bare minimum of his love language.

- At first he keeps telling himself that his need to hold you at night derives purely from his desire to keep you safe. After all, the only human touch he has known since childhood was mostly of the kind that involved pain, first inflicted upon him by his own mother, followed by his experiences in the Marines, his work for Bushman and all the gruesome deeds he has been forced to carry out in the name of Khonshu’s justice. The whole concept of the simple touch of a hand being warm and loving and gentle lies buried somewhere deep down with his need to be accepted and loved. They are buried under so many layers of projected shame and feelings of guilt that they seem to be out of reach for even the most dedicated of archaeologists to uncover.

- And yet, every time that he can feel you melting into his every embrace, snuggling as close as possible and burying your face in the crook of his neck whenever he opens his arms up for you, lovingly placing your hands on his whenever he hugs you from behind, it seems like another one of those layers is steadily being removed. It takes some time to tear down those walls that he has built around his fragile and vulnerable heart but once their foundation starts to crumble, he turns into the softest and cuddliest snuggle bear whenever he is near you. There is nothing that brings more happiness to his life than making his special someone feel safe and warm and loved.

- His deeply-rooted belief of not being worthy of love doesn’t go away over night, of course, but with every initially hesitant hug by him that is met with your gentle reassurance and warmth instead of the rejection he has learnt to expect, he becomes a little more confident, allowing his heart to open up towards you a little further.

- He has so much love to give and while he may not be able to find the proper words to describe his feelings for you (yet), he more than clearly communicates them to you via his actions, putting his heart and soul into even the tiniest of touches, from the very first cuddle in the morning to the very last hug good night and every little embrace in between.

- Being taken care of in return, on the other hand, is a completely different matter and something he has never actually experienced before he met you. Maybe it’s his inherent protectiveness towards people that he cares about, maybe it’s his deeply ingrained need to make others feel safe in a way that he has never known himself, maybe it’s simply because he has never been with a person who he felt safe enough with to let his guard down like that.

- The first time you try to spoon him, he immediately goes into defence mode, nearly panicking hard enough to make Jake front as he starts to prepare to fend off an attacker. But instead of withdrawing completely, as Marc has always feared that you would someday, you only back off far enough for him to no longer be overwhelmed by your display of affection for him. You always knew that it would take some time to convince him that there is no shame in letting other people provide comfort and support for him the same way that he provides it for you. So your actions just become slower and softer and gentler. You don’t force him to talk about things that he isn’t ready to talk about yet and you certainly don’t expect him to “just get over it”. You are just there, trying to give as much as he needs but never more than he is able to take.

- That night, you start by carefully taking his shaking hands in yours and drawing soothing circles on them with your thumbs, while repeating to him how he is safe and so loved, until his ragged breaths turns into softer sobs. Carefully watching out for the slightest sign that he might flinch away, you gently guide him to lie down next to you so that you are facing each other. When you slowly reach out to cup his cheek in your hand, you wait until you can feel him leaning into your touch ever so slightly, before you start to gently wipe his tears away with your thumb, never minding that they are immediately replaced by new trails of tears. Only when you feel that it is safe to do so, you pull him close towards you, letting him lean against you, slowly beginning to tenderly stroke his back in a soothing rhythm, while answering every sob of his with a soft kiss to his temple or the crown of his head. You lay with him like that all night, steadying him against your chest right next to your heart. The very first person holding him like he should have been held by his mother all those years ago.

- Nowadays he still cries now and then when you hold him like that. Sometimes the tears fall silently, sometimes they turn into heart-wrenching sobs. But they always end with him feeling just that tiny little bit safer, a little warmer, a little more loved. And every time the flow of tears made of pain and grief and despair becomes a little less overwhelming as they – drop by drop – turn into tears stemming from a heart so overflowing with love for you that not even the might of gods would be able to contain it.

- You’ll never forget the first time you wake up and find him snuggled up against you, with his head resting on your belly, his worry lines smoothed over by peaceful slumber, displaying a kind of vulnerability and trust that had seemed so utterly out of reach only a few weeks ago. As you stroke over his hair with the gentlest of movements, you are nearly afraid to wake him up. But he just leans subconsciously into your touch, makes the sweetest little content sound and tries to snuggle even closer to you. Finally safe, finally feeling the kind of peace he had been longing for all his life and yet so much better than anything he ever would have dared to dream of.

This is more of a bonus wedding headcanon than a marriage headcanon but I like to imagine that Marc did not only accept Steven as a part of his marriage to Layla, but he also arranged for them to have a (semi-) official ceremony to seal their bond. Marc knows how much Steven loves Layla, he knows how much Steven is in love with Egypt, so can you imagine Steven’s joy and happiness having his own wedding ceremony with Layla in Egypt? Marc spends all day watching from the sidelines trying his hardest not to cry because seeing Steven so happy and so in love makes his own heart burst with joy. The next day, Steven is still so giddy and bubbling over with excitement that he can’t stop himself from saying how he wished he could hug Marc for real, just one more time. This is when Marc loses his composure, no longer being able to hide his tears from Steven. Steven, who – not that long ago – had been convinced that Marc did nothing but hurt people and ruin everything that he touches. Steven, who is now beaming at him in front of the mirror acting as if Marc himself is the reason for the happiness he feels that day. And while Steven may not be able to hug him, he can still sit by his side without any judgement, reassure him that he isn’t alone and whisper softly how grateful he is for having Marc in his life.  

I am really sorry about making Marc cry so much 🥺 Not all tears are bad, though, and he just deserves someone to take care of him so much <3

[the-wayside]

So, I'm gonna lay here on the floor and think about how Tawan probably betrayed Kinn with a lot of fancy words and flowers and "baby" and then there's Porsche.

He's never been in love before, he doesn't know what he's doing, other than the sex part, he isn't suave at all like he is with the ladies, instead he's cute and bumbling on himself and he plans this date but he goes into full caretaker mode because caretaking is the deepest love/way to show affection he knows.

Not only that but he wants to go on this date to make memories. This is when we started. I didn't really see anyone talk about it but this is a character who specifically has memory gaps, so of course he would want photos and things to remind him of their first date. He wants things he can look at and recall how happy they were because he has so few of those and what if he suddenly loses that again? He has a very specific stake in wanting to have trinkets and reminders of things that are important to him.

That to me is the biggest show of Porsche's love, his want/need to keep Kinn because he's never really felt like anyone was his. He's just borrowing them and he has to give them back or they were never his in the first place.

Porsche is the definition of a giver, an empath (hypertuned to Chay; can't even turn it off for his shitty uncle), he's always experiencing life at warp speed with every single emotion to him happening at once but Kinn is the first time he slows and reaches out and takes this man's hand and says, I want him to be mine. I want his soft smiles, i want to snuggle in bed and walk hand in hand, arms wrapped around each other soft.

Kinn for Porsche is the ability to stop time and breathe, so it's no coincidence we see them in the water. Even when he's afraid, Kinn sitting him down and talking over his fears lets him breathe. Lets him calm down and feel more centered on himself.

I said about Porsche's wiggle feet (contact grounding him) but in truth it's Kinn's whole person. We see it in ep7 when he comes to see Porsche at the minor family's house. Sure, Porsche is cocky about dick, which is fun, but Kinn takes them to that soft space, the space where they breathe and everything calms and everything slows. When Porsche is justifiably angry from being hurt by Kinn and replaying his own barb, Kinn holds him in the frame of his arms, just breathe, until everything rights itself.

Porsche doesn't realize it, and maybe Kinn doesn't either that he himself is doing it, but he's making Kinn home in the form of a person. Somewhere where Porsche can feel safe, loved, taken care of. He's placing importance on someone outside of his family unit for the first time ever. He's building a future with a past of photos for the first time ever.

And he does all of it without words. He doesn't make it flowery, doesn't make up some bullshit. He just feels it with his good, honest heart. I know words are important and have a lot of value and both of them need to hear it like a metaphorical gush of water through a valve, oh, you love me, but Porsche's love is so much more than that. He is showing and experiencing love in so many different ways without words because words won't/can't make people stay. It can't keep them with you if it's time for them to leave. Porsche takes none of it for granted.

IDK, I just know that there isn't a purer best boy out there falling in love so innocently and wholesomely.

[visceravalentines]

Murph Connors NSFW Alphabet Headcanons

there are exactly 4 Murph gifs so you get these guys instead. it's symbolic <3

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

Murph is the biggest snuggle bug. Just wants to hold you and be held. Showers you with little kisses and caresses and nestles your head under his chin. The man's heart is attached to his dick and he's a little bit in love with you right now.

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

Real proud of his physique. He is a gym bro and he works hard for those gains. He's all about his upper body and abs, all those important surfing muscles. Tell him he's strong, compliment his gains, he'll light up and flex for you. He doesn't even mean to do it, it just happens on reflex.

When it comes to his partner, he likes the soft things. Thighs, breasts, tummy, ass. Whether you're thick or thin he likes the parts of you he can really get his hands on.

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

Thinks swallowing is the hottest thing on the planet. If you let him cum in your mouth he'll buy you flowers. Also, btw, this man is bisexual as hell and when he's giving head you bet he swallows. 

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

Super into pet play. Never ever will bring this up unless asked point-blank. If you put a collar on this man and tell him he's a good dog whoops he came already.

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

He's got a fair amount of experience under his belt but not as much as you'd think. He is very good at making sure his partner is taken care of and has a few tricks up his (very tight) sleeves to rile you up.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

All of them. Are you having sex with him? Awesome. You wanna take him for a ride? Climb right on up. You want him to fold you like a paper airplane? He would love to do that for you. You want to fold him like a paper airplane?  Say less, baby.

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

He’s not goofy on purpose, he’s just kind of a goofball by nature.  He’s being very sincere actually.  When he says “this is the best moment of my fucking life” while you’re sucking him off, he means it 100%.  

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

Fuzzy boy. Full fucking bush bby. California blonde from his head to his toes. 

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

Murph is, shall we say, a very clumsy romantic. He's not so much sweeping you off your feet as he is throwing you over his shoulder. He says the sweetest things but they're not exactly poetry, e.g. “you feel fucking incredible, you're a fucking dream, fuck,” etc. If you've been together for a minute he'll hug you tight and tell you he really likes you because it's true and he does. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Absolutely thinks about you while he's jerking off. Uses your nudes for inspiration. Probably texts you about it before, during, and after. He really prefers getting off with a partner, but sometimes u just gotta get that nut.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Oh my god edge this man. Be so mean to him, deny him all day, just don't ruin his orgasm or he'll never forgive you. Do literally anything to his nipples and he's a puddle with an erection. Loves to be bitten and sucked on. Leave him little love marks he can look at later and it'll make his day every time he sees them. Praise the fuck out of him, it gives him a boner in his heart. 💕

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Tbh?? Bed. He loves bed. Bed has everything you need. Would he accept couch? Yes, couch is good too. Kitchen? Why the fuck not? Not car. He can't get comfortable in a car. Kinda shy about public places but he thinks it's so hot you want him that bad and if you pull him into the bar bathroom or a dressing room he's not going to say no.

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

Any amount of interest shown in him at all. If you are soft and needy, he is tripping over himself to please you. Push him up against a wall and he's immediately yours. Send him nudes and flirty texts, he will be so stoked you're thinking of him.  So stoked he can’t stand up for a minute. PDA??  Oh man.  Touch him under the table at a restaurant and he is going to be pent the fuck up until you get him home. Absolutely loves when you assert your claim on him in some way publicly, taking his hand, arm around his waist, standing beside his chair and pulling his head against your hip. 

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

Not one for degradation, giving or receiving. Prefers pleasure to pain for the most part; your standard biting, scratching, and spanking are fair game.  Not much for group sex or threesomes.  He's pretty down to try anything once if you want, doesn't have a lot of hard limits. 

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

Enjoys both giving and receiving for different reasons.  Uses giving as a way to warm up his partner and gets himself all hot and bothered in the process because he just really is having a good time. Gives sloppy fucking head. Enjoys receiving bc he’s a simple man and he likes having his dick sucked, duh.  

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

Murph gets worked up pretty quickly but he’s hung like a horse, which means he usually has to take it slow for his partner’s sake.  He is so very good at being patient.  Plus, once he’s in the moment, he doesn’t want it to end.

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

You want to have sex with him right now??  Right now?  Pants are off.  Expect him to be really clingy afterwards though, and maybe don’t leave right after or he’ll be sad.  

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

He kinda sticks to his comfort zone when left to his own devices.  He’s not the one to bring a new idea to the bedroom.  But he’s extremely receptive to whatever you have in mind.  

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

Clear your schedule. He's in great shape, he's down to switch it up so things don't get repetitive or chafey, and he would love nothing more than to spend the whole night with you (and the day, and the next night).

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

Nothing fancy, but he has a couple cock sleeves he likes that he'd be happy to use on a partner with a penis. If you've got something you like that you want to use on him or have him use on you, he's totally down to try it out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He'll try, but he's not great at teasing because he just wants to give you what you want. Why would he deprive you?? You're so hot. :( 

However…you can tease him until he's blue in the balls face. He'll whine and complain but he loves it. 

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

Buy the neighbors earplugs. Murph does not hold back nor does he know how to nor does he care. Full-throated moans and whines and whimpers. Vocal sighs like all the tension in the world has been siphoned from his body. Begging, pleading, bargaining. Grunts, growls, a truly juvenile amount of the word fuck. 

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

Looooves when he gets to cum inside you. It's not even a breeding kink thing, he just is thrilled you'd let him do that. If his partner can't or doesn't want to adjust to his size he has to make do with other avenues, which is fine, but he just really likes being inside you if you'll let him.

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

Big man. Thiccc. He's what you'd call a seven by seven…seven inch girth, seven inch length. Circumcised. Curly curly blonde bush. Usually hangs to the left. 

As for the rest of his body, he's pretty fucking fit. Bulkier in the shoulders, arms, and chest, slim in the waist. Ass that won't quit. He's very tan bc he's always in the sun. Has a handful of tattoos including a shark on his left hip and a sun and moon on his calves.

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

Murph is always just a little bit horny and ready to be hornier. It's like a soothing white noise in the back of his mind. He's just bopping along until you drop him a hint and then he is ready. Sometimes he gets real needy though, and he can't focus on anything, and he'll do literally anything you want if you'll just get him off right now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He won't fall right to sleep, but he'll get cozy and cuddly and won't want to leave the bed again. And you better believe he's up before you are, already went for a run, and is making you breakfast.

[yourimagines]

NSFW alphabet with Sean Strickland

🥵

What he likes

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Gif is not mine

* Triggers: 18+, smut, swearing.

A - Aftercare, What he likes after sex: he isn’t the biggest fan of all that taking care of your girl and yourself soft shit but he loves to have you close by his side, sleeping after he just fucked you. Seeing you tired and snuggled all up against him naked, while he caresses your back.

B - Body part, his favourite body part of himself and yours: He likes his hands in general. He has big hands and they can do a lot of damage but they also satisfying you, making you all cum on his fingers or wrapping around your neck, making you feel better. He likes your lips, they’re beautiful soft plump and sometimes a bit reddish, kissing him so tenderly or so sweet wrapped around his dick, sucking him off.

C - Cum, Anything to do with cum: He loves to come inside your mouth, as you swallow it down and some cum drips down your chin, looking so dirty but also so innocent..

D - Dirty Secret, A dirty secret of himself: he knows more than you think, he found your tumblr account and uses that secret information to try things out with you. He would never admit he was lurking around your tumblr account because it’s fun…teasing you without you knowing it.

E - Experience, How experienced is he? Does he know what he’s doing: He knows what he wants and he knows what you want, he asks you a lot if you like it and he tells you what you need to do to satisfy him.

F - Favourite Position: He likes to fuck you from behind but he also loves it when you fuck him, just riding him while you sit in his lap.

G - Goofy, Is he more serious in the moment, or is he more joking around: He’s a serious guy, doesn’t fool around, he knows what the do and there is no room for child play.

H - Hair, How well groomed is he: he has body hair and so is down there. It’s more manly in his opinion.

I - Intimacy, How is he during the moment, on a romantic aspect: he isn’t really a soft romantic guy but he tries for you. He only does it because you like it and you know what they say…happy wife, happy life.

J - Jack Off, Masturbation: he isn’t a big fan of Jacking himself off when he has you….but he’s done it before when he was alone and missed you. He does like to finger you, just to tease you or make you cum.

K - Kink, One or more of his kinks: Daddykink, he’s your daddy and you are his sweet little good girl.

L - Location, his Favourite places: everywhere where you can sit down on your knees and suck him off. But he loves fucking you in the bedroom, just playing the whole night with you.

M - Motivation, What turns him on: if you have your hair up in a ponytail or bun, it’s perfect for sucking him off, he also loves when you sit down on his lap, straddling him while kissing his jawline. He will be hard in no time

N - NO, Something he wouldn’t do: No toys or fingers up in his ass, that’s a big no for him.

O - Oral, Preference in giving or receiving: he likes to receive, Jack him off or better suck him off, he loves that shit.

P - Pace, what is his pace: rough, rough and rough. He isn’t a soft person but when you’re in a sad mood he will go slow for you but if your not he just fuck you real good.

Q - Quickie, His opinions on quickies rather than proper sex: He loves them but he still prefers the proper way.

R - Risk, Does he likes take risks and game to experiment: Yess, he’s always a bit risky, a quickie in the car, locker room, gym, just everywhere.

S - Stamina, How many rounds can he go for, how long can he last: he can go for one good round, then he needs some time before he can go to the second round.

T - Toy, Does he own toys, Does he use them on you or himself?: nope he doesn’t have toys and doesn’t use them.

U - Unfair, how much he likes to tease: he’s a big tease, loves to tease you, sometimes a little bit to much.

V - Volume, How loud is he and what sounds does he makes: he makes a bit of noise, grunting, groaning, moaning, talking, just everything.

W - Wild Card: He does everything you want except putting things up in his ass But for the rest he does everything you want to in bed, he likes to spice things up.

X - X-Ray, what’s going on in his pants: he’s average length but it’s a bit thicker dick, it also slightly bends to the side, he has some hair down there as he finds that manly.

Y - Yearning, How high is his sex drive: high, he’s always talking about sex, about his dick, about everything that involves sex. So because of that he’s always horny.

Z - ZZZ, how quick he falls asleep afterwards: He falls asleep pretty quick, especially when you all cuddled up against him, caressing his chest, He’s gone then.

[abitchnamedtia]

Mace Windu x Jedi reader NSFW ALPHABET

Warnings : sex= minor denied !

Infos : GN reader

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

Mace isn't really good in aftercare. It's mainly related with the fact that he's not good at giving affection.

But if you snuggle up in his arms after a very intense night, he'll let you stay like that and he'll maybe stroke your hairs.

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

I hc Mace as a "chest" man. Either a muscular torso, or boobs, it's his favorite body part. He can see it behind your robes and love to undress you to see it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically).

Usually in you. He don't like making a mess or risking to stain his robes. But if you two are in the privacy of a room where you can fully undress, he'll definitely come on your chest.

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

His number one fantasm would be to do it in his council chair. But sadly it's impossible so he'll buy a replica to install in your room.

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

I think Mace is experienced, more in number than in practices. Fast sex in dirty hotel room between two mission was barely all he new before you. And that, it was before the war.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

Mace is a big fan of Doggystyle. If you have hair he'll pull them during. But if you don't, a hand around your neck will do the deal.

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

Are you really asking? It's Mace Windu. Mister serious in person. He rarely smile, even less laugh. So he's as serious during sex.

Buuuut the man is a tease. He'll playfully tease you if he's in the mood. But it'll still be somewhat serious.

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

Mace like to be shaved everywhere. He finds it "more convenient".

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

At first, he's not at all. Sex is the summum of the intimacy that he can manage to have with you, regarding his duties as a Jedi. But as the month pass he'll grow softer in front of you. He'll be more inclined to taking you in his arms, smiling to you,...

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He used to did it to relieve his stress. But now he has you and he prefers to wait to have you in person.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

[Power dynamics/bondage/orgasm denial & control]

He really like to be in control. He'll tied you and will control every seconds until the moment when you cum. Especially when you cum.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Usually you don't have much choices. A closet, an empty training or meditation room will do the thing. Or an hotel room when you both have time. Different every time for more safety.

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

Seeing you read in the jedi library, seeing meditate or training your katas. Everything that made you the excellent jedi that you are makes him horny.

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

Even if he like being rough, he'll never be cruel. The war is cruel, the sith are cruel. He's not like that and don't wants to hurt you. You're the softest thing in his life after all.

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

He thought that he preferred receiving, but discovered that he loved seeing you squirm and moan. So I think he likes both equally now.

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

When you don't have time, he'll be fast and rough. You both like it.

But when you have time, he'll still be rough, bit definitely slower to appreciate every centimeters of you.

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

You usually don't have much choice, so you two often do it in a furniture closet or an empty training room. It's good, it helps you to relax, and you both like it very much.

Quickies are ideal during war time, especially between two meetings.

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

At first, Mace doesn't liked to experiment. Preferring to stay in his confort zone.

But as you proposed more and more ideas, he started to accept them, but it took time.

The only things off limits are if other people can see it. That's a no no, he'll never want to

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

He's a master Jedi, and you're a jedi. Obviously you have a great stamina and used it a lot. He can go multiple for hours if you both have the time.

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

No toys (it's hard to have some and to hide them) but some strings, handcuffs, etc... He'll play with what he already have.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

This man will make you beg. His favorite thing is to stay still inside of you until your begging convince him to move.

Such a bastard. (You love it)

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

Mace is very VERY quiet. No moan, practically no grunts, practically nothing. It was strange for you at first, thinking he didn't liked it. Because on the other hand, he's VERY verbal to tell you how good you are for him.

But one day you deapthroated him totally (not an easy task), and you heard him making the most erotic moan that you've ever heard.

After that you've told him how much you liked it and since he tries to be a bit more loud for you.

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

After discovering what's shibari, he became a huge fan of it. He'll tie you up in complex strings pattern and fuck you for hours.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants

Big dick energy. I know it, you knows it, everyone knows.

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

Mace have a lot of self restraining. But at the second where you're both alone, be prepared of him grabbing your hips to push you into the first surface area and fuck you merciless.

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

He'll always wait for you to fall asleep. Sometimes he'll work on his datapad if you're not tired.

You think it's cute.

[stardusted-hearts]

@familylightfox asked: For both Horizon and Stardust 💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with? 🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it? 🏊 SWIMMING - can they swim? or are they afraid of water? how well do they swim? how do they feel about swimming in the ocean? 👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit? 🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self? ❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)? ---

Emoji Head Canons - Not Accepting

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Stardust and Horizon BOTH suck at dealing with any kind of negative emotion. They both tend to bottle it up, although Stardust is more likely to let at least some of it out when he knows he's alone.

But over all they cram it down, and for Stardust that's not a system that really works well for him anymore [not that it was healthy to begin with]. After the events of the Forces plot and everything he's gone through, Stardust's bottled emotions can easily explode and spill out in sudden meltdowns. Which only makes him more upset. He's supposed to be the cool happy guy!!

Horizon only lets out anger. Very rare for him to vent sadness in front of someone, or even alone. The problem with his anger is that, even though he let's it out- either in a fight or argument- it's still there. Ever present, sometimes at the front of his mind, sometimes silently burning deep down in his core.

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

Since I did this one for Star already, I'll just answer for Horizon here. The only thing he has left from his time on the ARK is the ARK itself, and a single damaged photo [the one that he threw at the end of Shadow the Hedgehog but later he found it again bc he had regrets].

I think if he lost the ARK his reaction would just be confusion and extreme concern because... where the FUCK did a giant space colony go??

As for the photo he'd be disappointed and hurt. It's the only thing he has to remind him of the good parts of his past, and without it he'd worry that he'll forget their faces.

🏊 SWIMMING - can they swim? or are they afraid of water? how well do they swim? how do they feel about swimming in the ocean?

Sonic can not swim, is terrified of any body of water bigger than a pool unless it's very shallow like the pond in his backyard is, and you will almost NEVER catch him willingly going into the ocean.

Not without multiple flotation devices and someone he trusts with his life, and he will not enjoy it.

The only time any of this is an exception is if someone he cares for is in danger and he needs to jump into water to save them... somehow.

Shadow can swim and does so VERY well, isn't afraid of water, and actually enjoys the ocean quite a lot.

👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit?

For Stardust, hot weather is a tank top and shorts, cold weather is a hoodie and leggings, and usually nothing for sleeping but if he does wear something it's a big baggy t-shirt and maybe shorts

For Horizon... nothing aside from the gloves and rocket boots he always wears.

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

"Some day you're gonna get sucked into a storybook- TWICE!! And NO ONE is gonna believe ya, so take pictures! Get evidence!"

"Experiencing joy comes at the cost of experiencing great pain. It's the nature of living. It's... it's worth it. I think. Cherish your joy."

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Lots of physical contact, snuggling, nuzzling, little touches, BITING [softly]. Teasing, favors, acts of service, gift giving, providing food and drinks. He WILL hound them about hydration.

Acts of service, favors, fretting over them without realizing it, picking them the fuck up for no reason and carrying them around just because he can, banter, cooking, making or buying their favorite little treats, keeping close, cuddling, little touches, AND HE ALSO BITES

Horizon can also easily adapt to a partner's love language if it's something he doesn't already do, once he's figured out that it is a part of their love language and understands it.