#diasmonia

[ravenpunkofficial]

sigh his armor is a nightmare to draw

[kefiteria]

Hello! I stumbled onto your blog via your Accidental Fae courting with Sebek and was wondering if you would be amenable to doing the rest of Diasomnia eg. Malleus, Lilia, and Silver? If not, I totally understand! It is just such an amazing piece. Really, thank you for it and the amazing laughter and fuzzies it gave me.

Accidental Courting 2.0

Lilia / Malleus / Silver x GN! reader

[masterlist] || sebek ver.

a/n 🍨 : Hello! Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this — it truly means a lot💛 I apologize for taking a bit of time before accepting it (especially the fact that this request is before i closed my request thus why it's been months) I tend to take a while with requests (mostly because of irl responsibility and wanting to write other stuff, but I always appreciate every idea and prompt shared with me💛 Nonetheless, thank you for reading my humble messy writing and I hope this version brings you the same laughter and fuzzies that Sebek’s piece did! remember to eat warm happy meal 🍲🩷

Lilia Vanrouge : Moonlight Applications

You found him lying on the grass, arms folded behind his head, the moon spilling over him like poured milk. He looked unreal like that — a painting half-forgotten by the gods, left to bask in the quiet ache of starlight. Fireflies hovered around him like they knew a secret you didn’t. You should’ve kept walking. Instead, you said, “Your hair’s a mess. I’m braiding it.”

He turned his head toward you, grin lazy and knowing, crimson eyes glittering with trouble. “My, my. Touching a fae’s hair under moonlight? How daring of you.” Lilia's voice was velvet over blade, amused and devastating.

You — stupidly, bravely, fatally — said, “Yeah, sure. You’ve got, like, cosmic split ends.”

“Do you know, in my homeland, such tenderness is a declaration?”

“Of what?”

“Of intent. Of longing. Of—ah, motherhood, perhaps? I do have three children, you know. Is this your application?”

Slowly you knelt beside him anyway, fingers finding strands of soft black silk that shouldn’t have been allowed to exist. “You talk too much...” you muttered, pretending not to tremble. The moonlight clung to his hair and your hands like it was conspiring with him.

Lilia hummed, low and thoughtful, the sound vibrating against the grass. “Well~,” he began, tone lilting and casual, “I already have three children. Wonderful boys, really. A bit dramatic, a bit loud, a bit sleepy—but endlessly dear.”

His grin deepened, dangerous in its warmth. “Hmm. I think you’d be a good parent for them. They’re all grown now, of course, but a parent figure is good for any age, isn’t it?”

“WHAT— LILIA— I WAS JUST— YOUR HAIR—”

He laughed, full-bodied and delighted, the kind of laugh that made the moon lean closer. When you stumbled away, pink-faced and sputtering, he only smiled up at the stars, ribbon glinting faintly where you’d tied it. Later that night, it appeared on your pillow again, humming softly with leftover laughter — like the world itself was in on his joke.

Malleus Draconia : Confectionery Catastrophe

It began, most disastrously, with a cookie. You offered it without ceremony — a little crescent of mortal sweetness, butter, and sugar fused in a gesture so harmless it might as well have been air. But when Malleus took it, he held it like one might cradle a newborn star.

The courtyard stilled. The air shimmered faintly around him, as if the world itself had leaned in to eavesdrop. “You… offer me a gift wrought by your hands, beneath the constellations’ gaze?” His voice rumbled low, reverent, confused.

You shrugged, halfway through chewing your own cookie. “Yeah? I baked too many. Take it before I eat twenty.”

Silence. A dreadful, blooming silence. His pupils dilated, those eerie dragon-green eyes catching the moonlight like stained-glass about to confess. “In fae custom,” he murmured, “such gestures are reserved for one’s—”

“Don’t say it,” you interrupted, suddenly aware of the way his tail flicked, “—intended.”

Malleus looked halfway between smitten and having an existential crisis. His ears twitched, a faint pink climbing the sharp line of his cheekbones. “Then… I must answer this courtship with a token of my own.” he whispered, and before you could say please don’t perform any fae rituals in my yard, he vanished in a hush of green fire and terrible inevitability.

Come dawn, an obsidian pendant rested on your desk — still warm, humming faintly like a heart that wasn’t yours. Sebek shrieked. Lilia had to sit down from laughing. And across the hall, Malleus Draconia watched you with the expression of a man who just got engaged accidentally and was too enchanted, too polite, and too terminally in love to correct it.

Silver : My Logic

He was sitting under the moon again, the grass whispering soft secrets around him. A tiny bird perched delicately on his finger, chirping as if gossiping about the stars. Silver smiled at it — slow, quiet, all warmth, and patience — and whispered something back in a language the air seemed to understand.

That’s when you appeared, carrying a small blanket. “You’ll catch a cold...” you said, draping it over his shoulders before he could protest. Your fingers brushed the back of his neck — fleeting, human, harmless. Or so you thought.

But Silver froze. The bird tilted its head. Somewhere in the echoing hallways of his mind, Lilia’s voice purred fondly: Ah, to cover a fae with your cloak or cloth — that’s an old gesture of devotion, you know. Quite romantic.

Silver blinked trying to process the current situation. Romantic? He thought. His pulse stuttered. His father's voice, smug and certain, continued: A sign that you claim them. That you’d shelter them always. A promise made in fabric and moonlight.

He looked at you, standing there, smiling like this was nothing — like you hadn’t just rewritten the laws of his world with one gentle touch. “You… wish to protect me?” he asked, too earnestly.

You blinked, startled. “I— what? No, I just didn’t want you to sneeze!”

But it was too late. His heart, poor obedient thing, had already drawn its sword and sworn allegiance. He held the edge of the blanket with almost reverent fingers, the way a knight might hold an oath. “Then I’ll protect you in return...” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

Later, you found him stationed outside Ramshackle’s gate at dawn, eyes bright despite the hour. “Silver,” you question him in confusion of his actions, “why are you here?”

He smiled faintly, moonlight still clinging to his hair. “You’ve given your word, haven’t you? Father always said a vow made beneath the moon must be honoured.”

You wanted to correct him, to scream — but he looked so calm, so heartbreakingly certain, that all you could do was sigh and let him stay. Somewhere far off, Lilia laughed into the night, the sound of a man far too proud of his matchmaking instincts.

[emmzybear512]

Hello! Can i request the housewardens with a Male!Yuu Reader that has soft facial features (like Epel) and acts graceful, kind and humble but is crazy strong? (Bonus if he has a sleeper build!!)

Hello!! Yes of course! I hope you like it!

Gentle Hands

Featured characters: Housewardens

Tags: I actually don’t like some of the housewardens so I apologize if it’s bad, romantic relationship

❤️—————————————————❤️

Riddle Rosehearts:

The first thing most people notice about you is how pretty you are.

Not in an overwhelming way, not the kind that demands attention the second you walk into a room like Vil does, but something softer than that—delicate features, calm eyes, graceful posture, gentle manners so polished that even Heartslabyul students straighten unconsciously when you speak to them.

You look harmless.

Riddle thinks so too, at first.

Especially because you move through Heartslabyul with such careful elegance, speaking softly during tea parties, helping organize trays without being asked, smiling politely whenever Ace or Deuce start causing problems, and for a while, Riddle privately assumes you’re simply… fragile.

Then Ace makes the mistake of saying it out loud.

“You’re seriously tellin’ me this guy can carry all that?” Ace laughs, pointing at the massive stack of supply crates Crowley dumped onto the lawn. “No offense, Prefect, but you look like you’d lose a fight against a strong breeze.”

You blink once.

Then calmly bend down, lift the entire stack into your arms like it weighs absolutely nothing, and ask:

“Where should I put these?”

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Deuce chokes.

Ace looks spiritually destroyed.

And Riddle—

Riddle stares.

Because the sleeves of your uniform pull taut for only a moment, enough for him to realize that beneath your neat posture and soft appearance is solid muscle built quietly, subtly, hidden beneath layers no one thought to question.

“…Good heavens,” Trey mutters.

You tilt your head innocently. “What?”

Riddle cannot stop thinking about it afterward.

Not just the strength itself—but the contradiction of it.

The way your hands are so gentle while carrying things heavy enough to make the other students struggle. The way you still speak softly while effortlessly restraining two fighting freshmen by the backs of their collars. The way your expression remains perfectly pleasant while opening stubborn jars nobody else can.

It becomes… distracting.

Especially once you start dating.

Because Riddle discovers very quickly that your strength appears most often in small, absentminded moments.

A hand at his waist guiding him gently through crowded hallways.

Lifting him onto a counter while cleaning because “you’ll make me miss a spot.”

Carrying three tea trays at once while smiling sweetly at him.

The first time you pick him up entirely, however—

Riddle nearly combusts.

“Riddle,” you say calmly, lifting him away from an argument between Ace and Deuce before he can overexert himself yelling, “you’re getting stressed again.”

Riddle goes scarlet instantly.

“PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”

“You looked upset.”

“That is hardly the point!”

But your arms are warm.

Strong.

Steady.

And horrifyingly easy to relax into.

Riddle realizes, with growing mortification, that he feels incredibly safe there.

Which only makes the blush worse.

“…You cannot simply carry me around whenever you please,” he mutters afterward, refusing to meet your eyes.

You smile, “Why not?”

Because if you keep looking at him like that while effortlessly holding him like he weighs nothing—

Riddle genuinely thinks his heart might stop.

☀️ —————————————————☀️

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona notices immediately.

Not the muscles.

The way people underestimate you.

He sees it in the first week.

Students talk over you because you’re polite enough to let them.

They assume you’re weak because your features are soft, because your voice never rises, because you carry yourself with a kind of effortless grace instead of aggression.

Leona watches it happen over and over with narrowed eyes.

Then one afternoon, he watches you drag a fully unconscious Grim under one arm while carrying two overstuffed grocery bags in the other like it’s nothing.

“…Huh.”

That gets his attention.

After that, Leona starts paying closer attention.

And once he notices, he can’t stop.

The strength hidden beneath your uniform. The broadness of your shoulders concealed by posture refined enough to look almost elegant. The fact that your grip is terrifyingly solid whenever you touch him.

“…You do this on purpose?” he asks lazily one day while watching you carry heavy furniture into Ramshackle by yourself.

You glance back. “Do what?”

“Act all sweet so nobody notices you’re built like a damn tank.”

You laugh softly.

And Leona’s ears twitch.

Because that sound is unfair.

“People just assume things,” you say.

“Hm.”

Leona sprawls across your couch, watching you carefully.

Then smirks.

“…Makes it funnier when they realize they’re wrong.”

Exactly.

That’s what he likes about it.

You don’t flaunt your strength.

You don’t demand attention.

You simply are.

And the moment people underestimate you, you quietly prove them wrong without changing expression once.

It drives him insane.

Especially when it comes to him.

Because Leona is larger than you, heavier too, and yet one afternoon during a lazy nap beneath the botanical garden trees, he wakes slightly when you shift him more comfortably against your chest with impossible ease.

“…Did you just move me?” he mutters sleepily.

“You looked uncomfortable.”

“You’re stronger than half the damn Spelldrive team,” he grumbles.

You only smile.

Leona stares at you for a long moment before huffing quietly and burying his face against your shoulder again.

“…Don’t let it get to your head, herbivore.”

But his tail curls lazily around your leg anyway.

🌊 —————————————————🌊

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul initially assumes your appearance is strategic.

You’re beautiful in a soft, approachable way that makes people trust you immediately, with graceful manners and gentle expressions that lower defenses almost instantly, and Azul—who has spent years studying people—is certain you know exactly what effect you have.

What he does not anticipate is the strength.

He discovers it during a Lounge delivery issue.

A crate slips.

One of the students yelps.

And before Azul can even react, you catch the entire thing one-handed.

One-handed.

The room goes dead silent.

You blink. “Oh. Were these fragile?”

Azul adjusts his glasses slowly.

“…My pearl,” he says carefully, “how much does that crate weigh?”

You glance down. “Not sure.”

Floyd starts cackling immediately.

“HAHAHA, Azul, your boyfriend’s JACKED.”

“I can see that, Floyd.”

But Azul cannot stop thinking about it afterward.

Because it’s absurd.

You still smile softly while carrying things that should require two people.

You still look refined and elegant even while physically overpowering students twice your size during training accidents.

It’s deeply unfair.

And worse—

Azul likes it far more than he should.

Especially once he realizes how careful you are with your strength.

How your hands always soften when touching him.

How protective you become without making it obvious.

One rainy evening, he slips slightly on wet pavement outside the Lounge.

Before he can even process it, your arm wraps around his waist securely, steadying him effortlessly against your chest.

“…Careful,” you murmur.

Azul freezes.

Because your grip is firm.

Strong.

And impossibly gentle all at once.

“…You caught me rather easily,” he says after a moment.

You smile sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“You looked embarrassed.”

Azul stares at you.

Then sighs softly.

“…Only because you make it terribly difficult to maintain composure sometimes, my pearl.”

Especially when you look so sweet while being strong enough to lift him like it’s nothing.

It’s devastating, frankly.

🏜️ ————————————————— 🏜️

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim thinks you’re pretty before literally anything else.

“Woahhh,” he says the first time he sees you, smiling brightly, “you look like a fairy prince!”

You laugh softly and Kalim immediately decides he likes you.

Because you’re kind.

Gentle.

Always helping others without expecting anything back.

You carry yourself with such natural grace that people instinctively relax around you, and Kalim adores being near you because you make everything feel calm.

Which is why the strength thing shocks him so badly.

It happens while preparing a welcome party for incoming freshman.

A heavy decorative pillar starts tipping during setup and several students panic—but before anyone can react, you catch it.

Just—

Catch it.

Kalim’s jaw drops.

“…YOU CAN DO THAT?!”

You blink. “It wasn’t that heavy.”

Jamil nearly has an aneurysm in the background.

After that, Kalim becomes obsessed with it.

Not in a weird way.

In an amazed way.

“Can you really carry that many cushions at once?”

“Yes.”

“Can you lift me?”

“Yes.”

“REALLY?”

And suddenly you have an overjoyed Kalim hanging off your back while laughing loudly enough for the entire dorm to hear.

Kalim loves every contradiction about you.

The soft face with hidden strength.

The gentle voice paired with terrifying grip strength.

The fact that you look elegant enough to belong in Pomefiore while carrying things like a trained athlete.

And more than anything—

He loves how safe you make him feel.

One evening during a crowded festival, Kalim gets overwhelmed by the pushing crowd, expression tightening slightly despite his usual smile.

Immediately, your hand finds his.

Then your arm settles around his shoulders protectively as you guide him somewhere quieter.

Easy.

Steady.

Safe.

Kalim looks up at you with wide eyes.

“You always make me feel protected,” he says softly.

You smile. “Good.”

And Kalim beams so brightly afterward that Jamil has to physically stop him from announcing to everyone that his boyfriend is “super strong and super pretty.”

🍎 —————————————————🍎

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil is deeply annoyed by how attractive he finds it.

Because visually, you’re already beautiful.

Soft-featured, elegant, refined—the sort of face painters would obsess over for centuries.

And then somehow, insultingly, you are also strong.

Not bulky.

Not obvious.

Just quietly, devastatingly powerful beneath perfectly tailored clothing.

Vil notices during training.

You remove your blazer.

And suddenly Pomefiore collectively stops functioning.

Because your physique is hidden so deceptively beneath your usual graceful appearance that the reveal feels almost unfair.

Vil stares for exactly three seconds before regaining composure.

“…My,” he says coolly. “You’ve been concealing quite a bit, haven’t you, sweet potato?”

You look confused. “Hm?”

Vil rolls his eyes lightly.

“You truly don’t realize the effect you have on people.”

You don’t.

That’s the problem.

You carry yourself with such humility that you seem genuinely unaware of how captivating the contradiction is—the elegance paired with strength, softness paired with power.

Vil becomes fascinated by it.

Especially because unlike many students at NRC, your masculinity doesn’t rely on intimidation.

You remain graceful.

Kind.

Gentle.

And still undeniably strong.

It’s confidence without arrogance.

Vil admires that immensely.

One afternoon, he finds you helping Epel train.

Or rather—

Absolutely humiliating Epel in arm wrestling while smiling politely the entire time.

“HOW ARE YOU THIS STRONG?!” Epel cries.

“Farm chores?”

Vil laughs so suddenly he nearly surprises himself.

And later, while helping apply skincare products in his room, he studies your face carefully.

“…You know,” he says thoughtfully, fingers brushing your jaw gently, “most people would feel compelled to make themselves harsher in order to be taken seriously.”

You tilt your head. “Maybe.”

Vil smiles faintly.

“But you never do.”

His gaze softens.

“And that is precisely what makes you beautiful.”

🔥 —————————————————🔥

Idia Shroud:

Idia thinks you’re doomed socially at NRC at first.

Not because you’re weird.

Because you’re too pretty.

“You’ve got, like, dangerous shojo protagonist energy,” he tells you once over voice chat. “People are gonna project all kinds of stuff onto you.”

Which they do.

Everyone assumes you’re delicate.

Sweet.

Fragile.

And honestly, Idia kind of does too.

Until he watches you casually carry a broken vending machine away from Ramshackle because “Crowley said someone had to move it.”

“…WHAT.”

You blink. “What?”

“H-how are you carrying that like it’s cardboard?!”

You shrug.

Idia stares at you through the screen like he’s witnessing a hidden boss reveal.

After that, he becomes painfully aware of everything.

Your arms.

Your shoulders.

The way your uniform stretches when lifting things.

The fact that you can physically pick him up despite him being taller than you.

Which happens exactly once.

And nearly kills him instantly.

You’re helping him rearrange equipment in his room when he mutters distractedly, “Ugh, I can’t reach that cable angle from here.”

Then suddenly—

You lift him.

Just casually.

Hands secure at his waist while positioning him closer to the shelf.

Idia panics immediately.

“AH?! AH?!?!”

“You said you couldn’t reach.”

“HOLD ON HOLD ON THIS ISN’T A NORMAL HUMAN INTERACTION—”

But you’re just looking at him calmly like this is completely reasonable.

Meanwhile Idia is dying.

Because you’re warm.

And strong.

And unfairly gentle about it.

Afterward, he cannot make eye contact for the rest of the night.

“…You’re literally a hidden stat character,” he mutters weakly.

You smile softly. “Is that good?”

“No,” Idia says immediately. “It’s devastating.”

🏰 ————————————————— 🏰

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds you fascinating almost immediately.

Not because of your strength.

Because of your gentleness.

Most people at NRC fear power.

You don’t.

And yet despite lacking magic entirely, you carry yourself with quiet confidence, graceful and calm in ways that remind Malleus strangely of old nobility.

You never raise your voice.

Never boast.

Never demand.

And because of that, Malleus initially assumes you are physically fragile by human standards.

Then he watches you carry Sebek out of an argument by the back of his uniform like an angry cat.

“…Oh,” Malleus says.

Lilia laughs for five straight minutes.

After that, Malleus pays closer attention.

And slowly realizes your strength rivals trained guards despite your soft appearance.

It intrigues him endlessly.

Because humans are often straightforward to him.

You aren’t.

You look delicate.

You move gracefully.

And yet your hands are strong enough to split firewood without difficulty.

“…You are full of contradictions, son of man,” Malleus says one evening while watching you haul heavy decorations through Diasomnia.

You smile softly. “Is that bad?”

“No.”

His gaze lingers on you.

“…Quite the opposite.”

Malleus especially loves how safe your strength feels.

Never threatening.

Never domineering.

Only protective.

Steady.

Warm.

One stormy night, thunder startles the younger students during an outage, and while helping calm everyone down, you instinctively place a reassuring hand against Malleus’s shoulder as well.

Just briefly.

But the touch is grounding.

Solid.

Human.

Malleus looks at you quietly afterward.

“…You are never frightened by me,” he murmurs.

You blink. “Should I be?”

A small smile touches his lips.

“…No,” he says softly. “I do not believe you should.”

~~~~

Tag list: @edwardhartenjoyer @genevathekitty @bao-yu-morningstar-wang-9

Want to be added or removed? Let me know!

[kiwidoesthings]

Give Silver smoochies. The cuteness aggression kind. The kind where he is tackles, smothered, smoochied, and snuggled.

Require smoochies for my princess pwease.

*grabby hands*

(It’s almost 2:30 a.m. for me, please forgive me)

A kiss here, a kiss there

Silver x F! Siren Reader

Prompt- regular cute couple things with [Name] and Silver

She/her pronouns

(H/c)- hair color

(I thought it be fun to make [Name] a siren who is territorial)

A.n happy to obliged; hope you enjoy this one and don't worry you can request any time of the day. Sorry for the wait!! Kiss kiss (*≧ω≦)

Being Silver's girlfriend was quite literally the best thing that [Name] could have asked for, the young siren had the greatest gift: Sleepy beautiful boyfriend who she could hug and kiss to her heart's content.

Cuddling him in his room, or under a tree beneath the soft grass. Giving him an endless supply of kisses especially when they were together in his room.

“Silverrrr hold me tighter!” She'd whine on his bed “mmm I'm trying…to sleep, princess” yet he made a great effort to do as she asked.

Being a siren also makes it hard for the girl to resist him,Silver's scent would drive her to cling onto him most days, he can be doing nothing just half studying on his desk and [Name] would come up to Silver and bite his neck gently he always responded with a grumble, his hands placing themselves on her hip instinctively, the sneaky siren would then spend all afternoon on his lap going from sucking on his neck or laying her head on his shoulder while Silver wrote on his notebook or drifted off to sleep.

Oftentimes she has to shake him awake in the mornings which makes for a very funny scene “wake up Sil! Let me see those pretty eyessss” behind her Lilia dies laughing while Sebek yells at her to stop “[Name] STOP AT ONCE YOU CANNOT JUST SHAKE HIM AWAKE YOU WRETCHED GIRL” the funny thing was that this was truly the best way that Silver would wake up, plus after everyone left his room [Name] would pepper his face with kisses “I'm sorry my sweet prince” Silver smiled whilst he rubbed his eyes “no no; thanks for waking me, princess” his arms wrapped around her waist and he ducked his face onto the crook of her neck.

[Name] smiled and tugged him tight before pulling away “come on, get dressed” Silver sighed and nodded his head, getting off the bed to get dressed for the day. “Yes, princess”

Another thing that [Name] those is rub her scent on Silver, she constantly gives him extra shirts for him to sleep in. She sprays her perfume on him before they leave campus for their dates in the town. Octavinelle students are very aware of her territorial side; no one could say he was attractive for the fear of her challenging them in a fight.

Silver finds it flattering even when she gets a little cuckoo “honey! My little seahorse, we should wear this couple's shirt!” She lifts up a big shirt with two whole necks. Silver blinked tapping his chin “if we wear the same shirt. We share body heat, you won't be cold and I won't slip out of your hold in my sleep. "He looked at her eyes glimmering “this is genius, princess” [Name] bounced on her feet “hehehe thank youuu”

[Name] always walks alongside Silver, her arms wrapped around his pressing her bosom on him,she watches his sleepy eyes looking at her every once in a while as they make their way to class, drifting down to her chest before looking away with a blush.

In the classroom, the two were seated next to the other. Silver slightly dozed off which caught the siren's eye “Aw come on sleepy head, don't close your eyes now” the siren grabbed his chin and kissed his lips “mmm…I'll try” Silver leaned against her shoulder, his fingers gracing through her hair gently braiding. “What chapter are we in now, princess?” [Name] pushed the book towards him “45, learning about the Scalding lands history” Silver hummed “uh huh, and how long till school is done?” The siren chuckled “we literally just started the day” this made him sigh “very well”

During lunch before the two join the others, [Name] pulled Silver to the side into a secluded part of the hallway “we have to get to the others” the siren grinned “just one kiss~” Silver raised a brow but leaned closer “well i guess we can” he grabbed her waist and kissed her. [Name] wrapped her arms around his neck her hand grabbed onto his white hair Silver pressed her against the wall his hand hiked her leg on his side the siren couldn't help but feel excited but before she could do anything else, Silver detached himself from her making [Name] whine “awww don't play with me like that” Silver only shrugged “I'll make it up to you later, you can smother me till we fall asleep”

And that she did,as soon as the doors closed in Silver's room the siren immediately jumped on him causing them to crash into the bed. The white haired male wrapped his arms around her mid section and [Name] soon started kissing his face down to his neck. This girl's pink lipstick left one mark after the other “muaw muaw! Hehehe” [Name] lifted her upper body to admire her work, she met with Silver sleepy gaze his pupils dilated. Hands gently caressed her back and crept under her shirt making the siren shiver slightly “your cold” he murmured “i can fix that” [Name] blushed and buried her face in the crook of his neck, her legs kicked on the mattress

Silver chuckled and moved them so that he had [Name] beside him placing her head on his shoulder, he grabbed the blanket and covered them both. The siren placed her hand on his chest and traced invisible patterns “this is nice” she spoke softly “it is…you comfortable, princess?” [Name] nodded her head “good, now give me a kiss” the siren lit up and sat up slightly, grabbing his face with both hands she leaned in and kissed Silver he reciprocated holding onto her waist tighter. The siren's hand grabbed onto his white hair slightly pulling, one of Silver’s hands gently traced along her spine making [Name] slightly arched her back. Pulling away the two stared at each other's eyes “how was that?” [Name] took her spot once more beside him “just what i needed before our nap” the (h/c)nette nuzzled onto him a soft yawn escaping her lips “mmm good” Silver closed his eyes, his cheek landed atop of the sirens head. “sweet dreams, princess” [Name] hummed “sleep well, my prince”

[cinnamncornflakes]

this conversation i had with my friends felt really them coded

[komitokoyo]

A smilling and laughing happy malleus doodle

[yall-got-me-fucked-up]

[vinegarfiend]

big things coming your way soon....