♡ 𝑜𝒽 𝒷𝑜𝓎, 𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊… ♡

☆ 18+ meddle about | hobie brown

✩ summary: he just loves everything about you, but he especially loves your thighs. ✮ word count: 1.2k ⚠︎ warning(s): 18+, unprotected, semi-public, fem!reader he <3s thick thighs argue with the wall also he def didn't pay for the pants either... ✧ be sure to check out my work on ao3 ⇢ gravesforgirls !!

It was nothing short of an infatuation. He couldn't help it. They were just so pretty and soft and perfect, and he was only so strong.

He absolutely loves when he can just lay his head in your lap and nearly fall asleep as you gently rake your fingers up and down his bare back, big hand palming at your thigh akin to a cat kneading a blanket, squeezing and massaging the soft plane of skin with his rough fingertips. He presses kisses into them, mumbling utter nonsense as he lays there, and he nibbles gentle marks into the inner parts of your thighs. It doesn't even have to be risqué, though he doesn't mind if it happens to end in you pinned beneath him, he just likes being nestled between them, soft skin pressing against his cheeks as he lays there, lazily kissing at the warm skin.

That said, he loves seeing you in tight pants, or mini skirts, or anything that really accentuates your thighs. Especially super skinny leather pants. The way the fabric hugs every curve so perfectly, not to mention so vividly, has him near drooling. He can't keep his hands off you when you step out of the small fitting room stall, eyeing you up and down.

"Give me a twirl. Gotta make sure it fits right."

You know what he's doing, and you roll your eyes with a small swat to his chest as he grins, but you spin anyway, biting back a laugh when you catch the way he stares.

"Look good?"

"Fuckin' peng. C'mere."

Before you can really even step closer,  he's already wrapping his lean arms around your waist, kissing you with a sudden fierceness that has you letting out an embarrassing noise when he presses you against the door, big hands sliding from your waist to grab at your ass, the shiny leather material squealing under the friction of his hands. You press a hand to his chest, a weak attempt at getting him to slow down.

"Not here, Hobie."

He grumbles against your lips, lifting a hand to push open the door and walking you back into the stall, reaching behind him to twist the lock, still latched onto you.

"Can't wait anymore. You been getting me all worked up since that first dress you tried. Lucky I held out for that long."

Your hands snake around his neck to keep him close, clutching at his vest when he lifts you against the thin wall, pressing against you to keep you upright. "Didn't realize you liked 'em that much." Your legs clamp around his hips to give you that little more stability.

He nods, lips leaving yours to eagerly trail down your throat. "These ones sent me over the edge. You look fuckin' amazing." One of his hands slips between you to toy with the button of the pants for a second before he's popping it open, tugging down the zipper and shoving the tight garment down your thighs, ogling a bit at the way the fabric constricts around the plump swell. 

He doesn't even bother to pull them down any further, too busy clambering to undo his ridiculous amount of studded belts to care about ridding you of it completely. He's rocking against you with a desperation that has you slinking a hand down between your thighs to press your fingertips against your barely concealed clit, heels digging into the back of his pelvic bone as he undoes his skinny jeans.

"So pretty." His hand nudges at your own to push you away, replacing your fingers with his own, and you hum when he pushes aside your panties to touch you properly. "Already so wet for me, babe. Bet you can't wait for me to fill you up, innit." His long fingers press against your warm walls, calloused thumb circling your clit.

You whine with a small nod, rolling your hips into his hand as best you can, what with the minimal stability you have at the moment. He's watching the way your thighs squeeze around his hand, movement extremely limited by the tight leather still clutching at your legs, pulled taut with the way your ankles lock behind his back. You bite down on your bottom lip to keep quiet, back arching off the wall when he curls his fingers, and you don't even have to look at him to know he has that shit-eating grin painted on his lips, warm breath fanning across your ear as he leans closer to drop kisses across your jaw bone.

"Gonna fuck these pretty thighs. Gonna come all over 'em." His words trail off into unintelligible groans, and you shake your head gently.

"Want you to fuck me. Please. S'all I want."

The slight break in your quiet voice has him sputtering, hand faltering against you as he registers your plea, huffing quietly. Who is he to decline your request when you've asked so nicely?

"Sure. Yeah, okay." He gives in almost immediately as he presses his warm forehead to your shoulder, one hand leaving you to push down the hem of his briefs, breath shuddering whenever the head of his cock presses against your slick folds.

You spit into his palm when he holds it up to your face, and he tugs at his –now painfully hard– cock a few times before he's stretching you open, stuffing his face into your neck to press hot kisses into your already searing skin, groaning against your throat when your walls close around him.

He's thumbing over your sensitive clit, rocking into you all the while muttering mindless praise into your ear, and your nails dig into the leather of his vest as you slowly tip over the edge, muffling your noises in his neck. He continues to mumble any and every compliment he can think of as you come down, and you nearly whimper when he's pulling out of you, lifting your knees from around his slim waist to clamp your legs together against your chest, the tip of his cock sinking into the tight crease where your thighs meet. He's so desperate now, accent so thick you can barely make out anything he's saying as he fucks up into the cramped space, and you can tell he's close whenever his hips stutter, sloppy as he tries to stay composed.

He paints your bare thighs in thick white stripes, watching the way it drips down as he slowly lowers your feet to the floor, and you hum when he leans closer to press kisses to your sticky skin.

"What am I supposed to do about this?" You gesture to the mess on your legs, and he follows your gaze, pouting a bit.

Before you can scold him though, he throws off his vest, tugging his tattered shirt over his head and leaning down to wipe you clean. You cringe at the action, scrunching your face as he grins.

"That's so gross."

"I'll toss it. I've loads more tops in far better condition."

You try to convince yourself the employees aren't staring at the two of you as you rush out of the store, only swiping at him once you're out of sight from the business, as if he was at any more fault than you were. You did allow him to fuck you senseless in the fitting room, after all. Who's keeping track, anyways?

He did in fact get you those leather pants while you were getting dressed. 

Heeyyy!!! I love your page so much! Can I please get an angst fic with Gojo? But with a happy ending. Literally in love with your writing 💗💗

( EEEEEK HIIII OMG MY FIRST REQUEST I LOVE U !!!!!! AND OFC ID LOVE TO WRITE THIS THANK U SO MUCH FOR LEAVING IT <333 )

“Unfathomable”

— in which you doubt the validity of his feelings.

( or sometimes i just need self assurance and never know how to ask for it and this seems to be a common thing with eveyone)

Gojo Satoru was unquestionably the epitome of strength and this was candidly clear in his title of “The Strongest”.

And then there was you.

And you were undoubtedly impotent when compared to his feats in jujitsu.

You didn’t command the attention of those around you when you walked into a crowded room, and you couldn’t reassure anyone just by your presence alone.

You were just you.

And just you was currently spiralling into an abyss of self doubt, over why Gojo would ever chose you to fall for.

It all started a month ago after your mission to “dispose” of a grade one cursed spirit turned disastrous, causing you to rely on the strength of your mission partner as you bled out, gasping for air and muttering nonsensical apologies to the sky above you. Repeating over and over about how sorry you were for not realising how close the curse was before it striked you from behind, sending you flying through the air.

When you reached Shoko at last, you remembered seeing Gojo’s poorly concealed concern ooze out, and you closed your eyes, embarrassed of your failure, unable to look at him in your pathetic state.

He had looked frantic.

Your body looked worse than your injuries, and he knew that, but the mangled state of your disoriented words, slurred out due to blood loss, made his shoulders tense, and he could only stare down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

You felt him clutch your hand, and you hated how desperate it felt, you wanted to hide, to not let him see you like this. You were an inconvenience to The Strongest and that thought alone haunted you even when you eventually passed out to his whisper of “It’s gonna be ok baby, just hold on a little yea?”

And now a month later, it still haunted you.

Now maybe it was your pride talking, you didn’t want help, you didn’t want anyone’s help, and you certainly did not want Gojo Satoru, who had been doting over you, following you around, asking if you wanted him to take over your next couple of missions so you could recover, to help you.

Selfishly, you just wanted to wallow in self pity alone, without the constant reminder that you were burdening the man who loved you.

And so, you were distancing yourself, refusing his offers to stay, removing yourself entirely from his presence in public, too ashamed to be seen beside him when you were so weak.

You just wanted him to know, that he didn’t need to constantly watch over you, that you could handle stuff by yourself, that you weren’t charity.

You just hated how self doubt seemed to permeate your consciousness everytime you were with him, unable to understand why Gojo was forcing himself to care for someone so obviously lesser than.

Gojo noticed, of course he noticed.

You pushed yourself away from his cuddles at night when you assumed he was asleep, turned your head ever so slightly so he’d miss your lips when he leaned down to kiss you. And worst of all, your pretty smile, the one he adored more than all of the stars in the sky combined, seemed forced.

A fake smile that seemed ever present.

When Gojo awoke again to you missing from his arms, he decided he’d had enough.

You were in the kitchen, making tea, humming a small song to yourself, Gojo watched you from the door, taking in the moment of serenity for just a couple more seconds, before he pushed himself off the door frame and walked towards you.

“What’s my pretty baby doing up so early huh?”

If either of you noticed how your entire body tensed at the sound of his voice, neither of you mentioned it.

You turned, looking at Gojo, struggling to maintain eye contact as you awkwardly laughed off your separation, like you had done almost everyday since your recovery.

It made Gojo frown.

You gestured to the kettle, “You want tea?” You kept your responses short, you didn’t want to drag his attention, make him feel like he had to listen.

He didn’t get to reply before you had already started to reach for another cup down from the cupboard, grabbing the sugar cubes with it.

“Here lemme help ya’” Gojo offered, stepping forward to reach the mug, his height becoming overbearing, suffocating.

He had to help you again.

You bit your lip, feeling your eyes sting, God could you ever just do something independently without the constant need to rely on others?

Your mouth was bitter, and you didn’t acknowledge him as he set the cup in front of you, only grunting in response.

You felt his eyes on you.

You’d felt that a lot lately, and you hated it.

He was constantly observing, making sure you weren’t pushing yourself, because he didn’t trust you to do or go anywhere now, not without him.

“You ok?” He asked, head tilted. He reached out to touch your check gently, only to be stopped when you stepped away, just out of his grasp.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You handed him his tea, and moved to leave, to escape the brevity of his eyes, a increasingly concerned gaze where you were weak, weak, weak.

You got about four steps before you heard the man behind you sigh, and pull you back to his chest, his chin resting on your head, as his hand drew tiny little patterns across your midriff.

“Satoru what are you-’

“Talk to me.” He said, his voice calm, lacking resentment, but filled with determination.

“Let me go Satoru I swear to God, I’ll kick you.”

“Do you need to kick me? Is that what’s wrong?”

His arms tightened, preventing you from escaping even if you tried.

Weak, weak, weak.

“Toru please, just let me go.” You pleaded pathetically, you weren’t going to do this, you weren’t going to cry over the difference in strength, especially in-front of him.

“Tell me what’s bothering you, you still injured? We can go to Shoko now if you need.” His voice danced the line between concern and frustration, disapproving of your removal of yourself from him.

And at the mention of your injuries that were long gone, your blood boiled, and you somehow shoved him off you, turning to face him in a seething display of rage.

“I’m fine Satoru, Jesus Christ, you don’t need to rub it in.” You snarled, glaring at his stupid blue eyes, “I mean God I have one bad mission and now everyone thinks I’m useless.”

Gojo looks as shocked as you’ve ever seen him at your outburst, his mouth parts to interrupt you, but you don’t let him, refusing him any say in your personal defeat.

“You’re embarrassed right? You must be, the strongest fucking sorcerer left to care for someone so pathetic.”

“Y/N what-’

Big fat ugly tears are pooling in your eyes, spilling over to decorate your face with your shame.

“And the problem is you won’t stop! You’re so nice when you don’t have to be and I don’t understand why you’re pretending to care so much? Especially when I am ok!”

“Pretending? Baby no-’

Your throat constricts and you shove a sob down, rubbing furiously at your watering eyes.

“I hate how weak I am to you, and I hate how much you have to look after me.” You’re voice is shaky, unconvincing. And you’re trembling, inconsolable as you finally give up and cry, sharing every doubt to Satoru Gojo.

“Weak?” Satoru leans down, and cups your cheeks, and for the first time since the mission you don’t try to pull away, you look at him.

And Gojo thinks he’s the luckiest man alive.

“You’re not weak at all baby, is that what this is about?” A small smile dances across his face, you almost think he’s mocking you.

“I care about you because it’s you, pretty girl, not because I have to.”

He rubs a thumb under your eye, and sighs, shaking his head, “It’s not a burden to care for you y’know?”

And you’re still crying, but you’re listening now, and he takes this opportunity to kiss you sweetly, right below your eye.

There’s a vulnerability in his eye when he talks next, an apprehension that you’re not use to.

“After your mission, fuck baby I can’t lie.” His fingers smooth along the shell of your ear, “Seeing you so… out of it, it scared me, ‘m not meant to get scared”

You stay silent, but lean into his touch, a small gesture that encourages him to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Rely on me more yea? You’re strong baby, even if that silly little head of yours tells you otherwise.”

And you smile as he taps your nose with a finger, and he beams back at you, the softest expression on his face as he leans forwards and captures your lips in his.

“And there’s nothing I love more than being able to take care of you Y/N, please remember that.”

And when you’re pulled into his arms once again, you don’t resist, instead choosing to whisper a gentle “I love you” into the fabric of his shirt.

the end.

( A/N: IWHAIGDISH I GOT A REQUEST EEEKKK - i hope this is ok ! i love you and thank you! - i’m writing this in a cafe before i go to my fucking ice cream shop job fuck my fucking life. I AM WORKING UNTIL 11 WHO NEEDS ICE CREAM AT 11PM ??? anyway i love you and thank you for reading :)) )

MIGUEL

Jealous lads

Sebastian :

Ominis :

(this is made using AI. the voices aren't real. i don't own any of this)

the corruption kink would be STRONG in a roy/jay threesome

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑.

#DESCRIPTION: the one where jason and roy make it their mission to ruin their longtime bestie, the local good girl at uni. mdni.

#NOTES: this singular comment inspired a whole (albeit poorly written) fic. thank u. also the song are y’all are listening to in the fic is sugar by sleep token, hence the name. also pls be nice this is my first full fic omg😚

“I really oughta go home,” you hum as you look at the clock, sweet voice ringing out into the otherwise quiet of Jason and Roy’s shared living room.

The three of you became friends quickly, under the crucible that was a horrific semester of an Advanced Statistics class during junior year of college. Now, a year later, you find yourself spending weekends at their shared apartment, watching movies, playing games, and just existing in their space.

There’s always been a sense of tension between the three of you, whether or be the bizarrely evident sexual tension between Jason and Roy, or you and one of the boys. You’d never dare bring it up, though, for fear of ruining the sacred friendship you three have forged.

The men are seated on either side of you on the couch, virtually squishing you between their hard, muscular frames. The quiet croons of Jason’s favorite band occupy the rest of the space as the two of them indulge in their personal vices, Jason’s being a glass of whiskey and Roy’s being a homemade Old Fashioned.

Though you say you ought to head home, you make no move for the door.

“It’s dark out, sweetheart,” Jason rumbles, sipping on his drink, “And late as fuck. We’ll take ya home in the morning.”

Roy nods at this before chucking your chin, murmuring, “It’s our first sleepover in literally forever, how fun!”

You nod without saying anything, letting a comfortable silence settle over the room, save for the suggestive croons and whines of the song coming from the speaker. You feel heat crawl over your neck and face as you listen to the song, realizing how close Jason and Roy are to you. How pink their lips are. How the taste of the alcohol they’re sipping would taste on their lips if you were to ki-

“Sweets?” Roy leers down at you, auburn lashes blinking in confusion, “What’re ya looking at?”

“You know what she’s lookin’ at,” Jason rumbles, as one of his muscled arms come down to wrap around your shoulders, keeping you in place.

Your eyes are wide as they flicker between the two men. You sharply exhale, parting your brown, glossy lips, unsure of what to do or say.

“Poor thing,” Roy drawls, cupping your cheek, “Lookin’ like a deer in headlights. ‘S okay, sweets, we don’t bite.”

“Not unless you want us to,” Jason adds, setting a large hand over your bare thigh. His eyes are lidded, watching you like a predator watches prey. He glances at Roy, and slyly smirks at the shared understanding between the two men. Still, they want to give you a chance to say no, a chance to leave and act like this never happened.

“Say you want us to,” Roy mumbles, green eyes searching your body. It’s only now that you realize how scantily clad you all are, Jason being shirtless, Roy in a pair of loose boxers and a black wifebeater, and you in one of your ratty oversized band tees and tiny pajama shorts. You find yourself nodding, eyes still wide in disbelief.

“He said, say it, sweetheart,” Jason tuts in your ear as he pulls you into his lap. He allows you to settle into him, letting out a low growl at the friction you create while doing so.

“I want you to- ah”, you gasp, shuddering as Roy’s lips find your collarbone. You can feel him smiling into you as his fingers tease the hem of your tee, barely ghosting the waistband of your shorts. Your hands come up to meet his hair, idly playing in it as Jason’s large hands find their way into the waistband of your shorts.

You lift your hips for him, allowing the shorts to slide off of you as Roy works his way around your neck, tugging at your tee with a pout. Jason seems to get the hint as he hums from behind you, “Lift your arms f’me, bunny.”

Ever the obedient little thing, you do so as Jason lifts the shirt over your head, exposing the lacy pink bralette and panties to the boys. The garments hug your plush body deliciously, highlighting every curve and dip as you slowly grind on Jason’s lap.

“You little minx,” Roy groans as Jason’s arms cage you where you sit, “How long you been hiding this from us, huh?”

“Too long,” Jason mumbles, nipping at your ear as his large fingers find their way over your barely clothed pussy, “Let Roy have a taste, hm baby? How’s that sound?”

“So good,” you whine, pushing your ass into Jason’s lap. You can feel his thick cock pulsate as he groans, “Go ahead, Roy. Make baby girl cum.”

Roy all but rips off your panties, exposing your cunt to the cool air. “She’s so pretty,” he marvels, before pressing a sweet kiss to your clit.

You whine in embarrassment, turning your head away from the sight of Roy lapping at your wet pussy. Jason catches your lips in a sweet kiss as he works your bra off of you. He eagerly swallows your moans as his fingers come up to toy with your hardened nipples.

“I want a taste,” Jason says, tugging at Roys hair. He pulls the redhead up for a heated kiss before pulling him back down, rasping, “stretch ‘er out f’me,” as he ruts his clothed cock against your bare ass.

“Someone’s gettin’ impatient,” Roy leers, sticking a thick digit into your glistening cunt, giving you languid, slow strokes. You let out a near pornographic moan at the intrusion before Roy snickers.

“Guess I should add another, huh,” he murmurs, adding another finger. You keen, arching into Jason as his thumb presses on your needy clit.

“Such a greedy little girl,” Jason muses as you moan in delight, “Whaddya want now, hm?”

“Wan’ cum,” you mewl, breathless, “wanna cum on your cock with Roy’s dick in my mouth.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jason smiles down at you, “On your hands and knees. Now.”

Roy smirks in anticipation, stopping the pumping of his fingers to allow you to get on your hands and knees in front of him.

“Open wide,” Roy sings, tugging his red boxers down to expose his fat cock, tip angry and already leaking. He slaps the tip on your tongue a few times as Jason kneads your ass from behind you. He gives it a sharp smack and you lurch forward, gripping onto Roy’s strong thighs with a strangled moan.

“Look at you,” Roy sighs as you weakly stroke his cock with both hands, “takin’ initiative. Such a good girl.”

You can hear Jason hum in assent behind you, pressing the thick head of his cock into your pussy. You gasp, lightly squeezing Roy’s dick as Jason enters you fully. He rocks his hips into yours, allowing you to get your bearings as you give Roy’s dick kitten licks along with languid strokes.

“She is a good little slut, ain’t she,” Jason grunts as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours as you suckle the head of Roy’s cock. Roy mewls as one of your hands comes down to fondle his balls, causing him to let out a strangled moan. His moans grow in volume as you take him further into your mouth and down your throat as he whines, “Just like that, baby. Don’t fuckin’ stop, you’re doin’ so good for me.”

Jasons pace grows more erratic as time goes on, and one of hands creeps under you to play with your clit. He gasps as you clench around his thick cock, your muffled whines and moans only bringing him closer to orgasm. Your cunt seizes around him as you cum without warning, whining and keening around Roy’s dick. The vibrations of your voice only spur him forwards as he groans, thrusting forward and painting your throat white.

Jason sighs with pleasure as you fuck yourself back on him, seeking another orgasm.

“Of course you want another,” he grits out, hips snapping into yours, “You’re such a- fuck, you’re just a little whore for us, huh?”

You nod, looking up to see Roy stroking his overstimulated cock, nearing tears. He leans down pulling you into a deep kiss as his tongue probes your mouth, searching for the taste of himself.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” Jason whines, ramming himself into you from behind. He slows as he empties his load into you, keeping you on his cock for just a moment longer.

You’re spent, lip gloss smeared, mascara ruined, and lace front messy as Jason lifts you off of his cock with ease, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. Roy palms himself at the sight, eyes focused on the cum dripping from your glistening cunt.

“Hey sweets,” he rasps, licking his lips as they both walk you to the bathroom, “Let me uh, clean you up, yeah?”

reblogs and comments are appreciated !! thanks for reading, dear heart ! also here @xoxoyourdoll !!!

Miguel expression suggestions while I keep practicing him 💢💢

no time to finish them:(

Broody (not)bat

NSFW Alphabet for Ominis Gaunt

Warnings - 18 + smut

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Ominis is very sleepy, but first and foremost concerned with caring for you. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and cleaned up before committing to snuggling into you for a nap

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)Ominis likes his own hands the most. He knows that pleasure he's able to bring you with them and they're what allow him to completely memorize the softness and angles of your body. His favorite part of yours is your stomach, he loves teasing you around it, making you think he's about to relieve you when he isn't. He loves the feeling of it and how it connects to your softest and most sensitive areas.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He loves feeling his cum go down your throat, the way you gag around him and he feels you swallowing to get down all of his seed. He praises you while you do it too.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) His dirty secret is that he really loves sex in the Undercroft. It feels like his own private haven and place to relax and being able to have you there just really makes him feel possessive in a good way.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)He's not had a lot of hands-on experience, but he considers himself well-read with thorough research done. He takes his time with you the first time you have an encounter, committing to learning what your body likes the best.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Ominis headcannon for that is here he is a slight softy and enjoys positions that keep you guys as close as possible

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Ominis is pretty serious and committed to a loving experience or a very dominating experience with you. He can also be a good submissive depending on the day and how stressed he is, but sex is always super important for him to have that connection for you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Ominis probably makes an attempt to keep things tidy for his own comfort. His chest is bare, but a trail of light-colored hair goes from his stomach down to his pubic area. The rest of his body is mostly hairless, just covered in some fine blond hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) When you're making love and it isn't just kinky, he's very sweet. He spends the whole time doting on you, praising you, and telling you how much he needs you. He also spends a lot of time on foreplay here, being as sensual and slow as possible to enjoy every inch of you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) He likes to edge himself for long periods of time. He's really fond of building up his orgasm and tries his best to wait out for you. He lays in his bed at night torturing himself and fighting for his own release.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He likes to be called by a term like daddy or sir. He likes the power trip and being able to have it in a safe space with you. He alternatively loves the idea of being submissive to you and begging for your attention. It's euphoric when you finally lay your hands on him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) The Undercroft, your room to avoid Sebastian. Sometimes he charms the Undercroft to keep Sebastian out and gaslight the hell out of him into thinking he's going crazy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) He's really motivated by how audible your pleasure is, it really spurs him. Since he likes to let space drag on between your encounters to intensify your need for each other he loves to tease you in semi-public settings. Like in the quiet library, he enjoys saying things to get a rise out of you or putting a gentle hand on your thigh.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) He wouldn't want pain to be a substantial part of anything you two did. Gentle things like scratching, biting, and sucking are okay with him, but nothing more intense than that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He loves both so much, but his desire to please you is very high. He gets so many tastes and textures when he's giving you head and teasing your thighs in the process.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) He's usually a slower pace, but very hard and aggressive strokes if he's the one giving. If he's received he shamelessly likes it fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He doesn't particularly like them, but if he's desperate enough he'll absolutely shove you up against a wall and be very forceful in taking what he wants.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He's open to trying new things with you, he just likes to talk about details a lot beforehand. As long as it isn't inherently for pain, he'll try with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) He has a lot of stamina. You usually have a pretty intense first round of things followed by 2 or 3 slower sessions, taking much more time with each other.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) He wouldn't want to jump to using toys, he would be adamant about trying to please you with the body parts that he has first. He wouldn't outright say no, though and if you insisted it would make things better he would relent and end up enjoying it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) He teases entirely too much, he loves to tease you in the most subtle ways to drive you crazy all throughout the day.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He can be quite loud in the throes of pleasure. He's got a lot of gasping and whimpering that comes out alongside moans of your name. He cannot keep quiet to save his life.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Ominis is a sucker for letting you undress him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) Headcannon for detailed pp info here. Ominis has such fair skin with all of his beauty marks scattered into different shapes, sizes, and shades. His skin flushes so easily when he starts to heat up and he can't hide his desire. He's girthy and grows when he gets hard to a full 8 inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) It's fairly high, but he's excellent at hiding and keeping both of you at bay to build up the tension for sex that's gonna create fireworks.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Once he knows you're all comfy and taken care of, he's going to crash so fast. He won't even notice the soft kisses you give him as you stare at how peaceful he is.