#Man I love being able to splurge once in a while

[msbarrows]

Less than 48 hours since ordering and the shaggy comforter cover set has already arrived. In the second image you can see how much darker this actually-sage-green thing is than the supposedly-sage-green fuzzy blanket. Also the colour difference between artificial light (left) and sunlight (right).

Shaggy thing (which looks amusingly and mildly distressingly like I bagged and skinned a very large muppet for its fabric) is still perking up from being compressed during shipping. I’ll probably run it through the dryer on low heat cycle to fluff it up properly (and blow off any loose bits of fibre) before using it. I figure if I don’t insert a comforter in it, I can get some use out of it as an extra-thick and fluffy blanket before it goes into storage until next fall.

Meanwhile the sheet set only just finally set out from Salt Lake City in the US southwest yesterday. The quilt set should be arriving tomorrow. The two remaining pillows (coming from China) passed through Toronto on Monday, so they could probably arrive here any time from now until Friday.

So unless the sheet set makes a super-fast journey it’ll probably be some time next week before I can put everything together on the bed. Even so, I am excite.

[justadeadreaper]

These are mainly fluffy headcanons with slight themes of angst due to the nature of long deployments with implications/references of a death that could happen.

One thing people tend to forget about König working for a private military company is that he can still go on long deployments/missions that can take months to even years to complete where he would not be able to see his beloved.

König may be an extremely cocky man, which is something no one can deny from his voice lines. On the surface level he may think that no other person is skilled enough to kill him, but deep down that is not the case. Even if his anxiety does not actively affect him on a level you would truly notice it is still rooted deep in his brain as it spews out harrowing ideas that he can not get rid of as they nip at him while being made bigger by his trauma and past experiences. This causes a deep-seated paranoia about the idea of him dying on the field and leaving you all alone with your last memory of him being a sad one haunts him, or even worse in his time gone you completely forget about him and move on to someone new that could fill the hole he left behind.

This leads him to make the day before his long deployment the best of your life while he puts together a surprise to ensure you always have pieces of him while he is apart from you.

The day before he makes sure you have the best date of your life so far. It first starts with breakfast in your shared bed after he lets you sleep in until late in the morning, it is all your favourite breakfast foods and some of his own as he lets you splurge a bit and have your favourite dessert items as well while he eats his waffles with pistachio and strawberry ice cream. He loves to cuddle you and just stay in bed with you for a couple more hours to bathe in your love and warmth as you brush your hands through his hair before massaging his scalp before gently kissing all over his face, paying special attention to his scars. Once you finally get out of bed he takes you on a little shopping spree through your favourite stores letting you buy anything you want without worrying about the price even if you have to go to the sketchy game place that smells of death and sweat so he can get more figures or knives or guns or mangas for his collection. To end your adventure he would either take you to an aquarium or museum of your choice later in the evening so that fewer people are there just so you could have your moment together that looks like it is straight out of a movie. Before you leave you drag him towards the gift shop and he buys you whatever gifts you want  then he takes you home as he secretly calls your favourite takeout place so you can eat it together once it arrives as another surprise. Then to finish the day you spend the whole night cuddling and watching movies until you fall asleep. 

On a more spicy note, if you want children and do not have any yet I can see him trying his best to get you pregnant that night as he feels and loves you one last time just so if you lose him you will at least still have a part of him with you to help you pass through the years before you are reunited again.

In the morning he probably leaves with no word to you at all as he would hate your last memory to be one of heartbreak. Only a letter on his side of the bed. The first few pages are him apologising for leaving without a goodbye with the explanation that he is going on a long deployment before detailing how much he loves you, then he explains how he took a few of your shirts to use as a mask so he could always have your smell with him as he battles and a photo of you that he keeps above his heart so you can still be close to him, and finally on the last few pages are a detailed scavenger hunt with clues that lead you all over your shared homes with each clue leading to a spot with the clue being based on an important memory that was in that spot.

The items he would put in these spots varied and each time changed (unless it was his last time) but it was always the same types of items every time even if the spots changed.

In the first spot would always be some of his shirts, jackets, or hoodies that smelled of him so that when you were around the house you could wear them and be comforted by his scent as they would always smell heavily of his cologne. Every time after the first time he did this he would put different clothes in his place so you never got bored of the options he chose.

In the second spot would be a mixture of letters and USB sticks. There would be a letter on top explaining that the letters with white lily petals on the front and USBs with white lilies painted on them were for if he died, they have a gold writing on top that labels which life event of yours it was for and if you had children they would have the same and even if you did not have kids yet he still made some for future potential children, and the letters with forget-me-not petals on the front and USBs with forget-me-nots painted on them were for when you missed in and were struggling to deal with your life and different emotions without him there, and USBs with pink carnations painted on them that were just recorded videos him talking about different topics just for when you wanted to hear his voice talking about topics he found interesting. He explains in the top letter that the reason he wrote the letters and recorded videos that he put on the USB was due to the fact that in the letters he had to be concise and direct so he could get to everything he wanted to say while the videos are for him to be able to express all his emotions and not be confined to what would fit on the page as you see him be himself in the photos. Every time after the first time he did this he would put new letters and USBs in the place of the old ones to add to the collection with new responses to situations, topics, and emotions he thought of.

In the third spot would be a bear from Build-A-Bear (specifically the Pumpkin Sparkle bear due to it being ginger like him) that has multiple voice boxes in it that has recordings of him saying “I love you” or different compliments or nicknames he would usually call you with a custom heart too that bumped in the rhythm of his heart. The bear would be dressed up in a mini version of his normal uniform he wears on contracts as it holds a bottle of his favourite cologne just for you to use. Every time after the first time he did this he would put new clothes you could dress the bear up in based on his other outfits he wears on his contracts or at home or from when he dragged you to conventions.

In the fourth spot would be a scrapbook of your life together next to the small journals he took on deployments or used when his insomnia overwhelmed him which made it impossible to sleep. The scrapbook would have photos of all your dates together and important dates such as birthdays, promotions, holidays, etc. with petals and small drawings decorating the pages while the journals would be filled with countless pages filled with drawings of you, poems directed towards you or wrote solely about you, and ramblings about how he felt about you and everything he adored about you. Every time after the first time he did this he would create new scrapbooks that could be paired with the old that shows off more of your life events together and more journals that are filled to the brim with you.

In the fifth spot would be two books he made himself, the first is a cookbook bursting at the seams where he has handwritten all of the recipes that have been passed down his family over generations upon generations but alongside it are also recipes of all the dishes you enjoyed together or recipes he knew you loved even if you had never had the time to share them together, while the second is a book of all the jokes and puns he has told you or he wanted to tell you or he wanted to use when he was finally a dad or the kids were old enough to understand. Every time after the first time he did this he would write down new pages of jokes or recipes that he thought of that could be added to the books.

Apart from the scavenger hunt I also imagine him doing other things for when he is gone. The second most prominent thing is the little glass animals that he has hidden all around the house with a tiny scroll wrapped around their body or neck with a cute ribbon that matches the colour of the animal to keep it attached; once the scroll is unrolled it reveals it is a note about how much he loves you and how beautiful you are or compliments in general or motivation just so you can be reminded everyday of how much he loves you as if he never left, like he was still there with you. Something that could be considered as condescending that comes from his cockiness, and the undiagnosed autism I think he has, is how he writes down instructions and reminders for everyday he is on deployment for you to use as normally each morning he writes a chore list for the day with reminders for both of you to eat and drink. If you showed him how an Alexa worked he sets up the Alexa to do the reminders too but for the next 30 years just in case he dies.

When he is on deployment he will try to send back letters at any opportunity he gets as he collects trinkets to give you once he gets home. If you did have cameras set up around the house, whenever he has free time he is watching them to see how you are and what you are doing, and you can bet that if a speaker and microphone is attached to the camera he is using it to talk and have conversations with you even if they are short due to the nature of his work.

[rangerbarbz]

Sugar Stan

Author’s Note: Y’all this semester has been hell in all honesty. It makes me sad I haven’t been able to write, but I have obtained some free time for some writing. Y’all seemed to really enjoy the Stan fic I wrote, so I’m gonna try and cook something up. I love all the babes who’s been supporting me in my indulgent behaviors <3

“Sugar Stan”

Description: Stan is known for being a notoriously cheap man, but he likes to splurge for you when he can.

You were washing dishes in the sink from this morning’s breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon when you heard your phone buzz. You put the final dish onto the drying rack before rubbing your hands on your pajama pants and picking up your phone. Stan’s name popped up on the screen causing you to grin giddily. You and Stan had been dating for a while now, but if you said he still didn’t give you butterflies, you’d be lying.

Stanley <3: Hey, Doll. You got plans at 7:00. I’ll be there to pick you up. Wear that red thing I got you.

You yelped and jumped around the kitchen. You loved it when he surprised you like this. For an old man, he sure kept you on your toes. It was very attractive, in your opinion. You caught flack from your girl friends for dating Stan Pines, the town shyster, but they didn’t see him the way you did.

It was about 6:45 when Stan knocked at your front door with a bouquet of flowers. You opened the door to find him in a brown leather jacket over a red dress-shirt. The first couple of buttons were undone to reveal his chest hair and a gleaming gold chain. God, he looked good.

He looked you up and down when he saw you letting out a low whistle. You were wearing a red, shimmering gown that hugged your body in the all the right ways. You had your hair up to show off your gold hoops Stan got you which did not go unnoticed by him.

“Would you look at that,” he murmured, bringing his free hand to your jaw to gently turn your head from side to side. He smirked. “They look good, babe.” You were smiling ear to ear at him. He looked so damn sexy you couldn’t stand it. You wanted to just skip out on whatever he had planned and just let him take you right there. 

“Thank you, Stan,” you replied, looking into his cognac eyes. You grinned at him as his gaze fell to your plush red lips. It was brief, but you noticed. His expression then became playful.

“Alright, turn around. I wanna see the back,” Stan said winking and taking your hand in his to turn you around. You giggled as he twirled you, feeling his eyes move over your body. You were a blushing mess by the time you faced him again. He set the bouquet on the side table near him and then pulled you close by your hips.

“I can’t wait to show you off, tonight,” he grumbled into your neck. He had leaned down to kiss at the exposed flesh of your collarbone. You inhaled sharply at the contact, and his strong arms pulled you flush against him. He smelled of tobacco and cologne; it was a scent you wanted to drown yourself in. Stan continued his assault on your neck, peppering kisses everywhere he could. He stopped once you started laughing at his stubble tickling your shoulder. He pulled away to look at you again with a soft smile.

“Sorry, babe. Got ahead of myself there.” He began adjusting his pants to hide the growing bulge that was forming. His face was blushing a tad bit, so you gave him a kiss on his cheek to let him know there was nothing to be ashamed of. Your kiss had left a red mark in the shape of your lips on his cheek. You had almost said something about it, but something about it was erotic. It told other people who he belonged to, so you decided to keep the mark you made untouched.

“You don’t hear me complaining,” you joked, hooking your arm around his. Your hand grasped his bicep which was strained against his jacket. You gave it a small squeeze. “Love these arms.” Stan smiled and gave you a quick kiss to your temple. He wouldn’t tell you, but he adored your compliments.

 You walked out the front door together to the bright red El Diablo parked in your driveway. He opened the passenger door saying, “Your chariot awaits.” You giggled and took his strong hand into yours as you stepped into the car. He jogged to the other side of the car to get into the driver’s seat and begin your journey to wherever he was taking you. He backed the vehicle up into the road without looking and took off.

You sighed. “You know you should really watch out for other people driving, Stanley,” you chastised. “Somebody could hit you.”

He scoffed. “Please, they should watch after ME. If I’m ever in an accident, it won’t be my fault, babe.” You rolled your eyes as he sped down your road. Despite what he says, you know he would never actually put you in danger. He put his hand on your thigh and began to rub up and down your leg while humming along to an oldie playing on the radio. It was quiet between you two but nothing uncomfortable. After a bit, you decided to ask about where you were going.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out, sexy,” he answered. You cocked an eyebrow at him. He looked over at you and chuckled at your expression. “It’s nothing crazy. I promise.” He gave your leg a reassuring squeeze as he continued to drive.

“Okay. I believe you.” You smiled to yourself while looking out the window. The road he was taking you was a windy one with a beautiful view of forestry on either side. When he finally started to slow down, you were at Gravity Falls’ nicest restaurant “The Club.”

“So, what do you think? Are you excited?” Stan prodded, pulling into the parking spot closest to the restaurant.

“Stanley! You shouldn’t have. This is too expensive,” you responded, turning in your seat to grab his arm. “We don’t have to eat here.” Stan rolled his eyes and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Would you hush? It’s my money, and I’m going to spend it how I want.” He put his hand on your knee and rubbed it lovingly. You gazed down at his hand and ran your fingers over his. He used his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him. “Now, when we get in here, you’re going to buy whatever thing you want. Don’t even look at the prices. Ya understand?”

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face. “Yes.”

Stan returned a smile and patted your knee. “Atta girl. Let’s go stuff our faces.”

                                                                                ~Later that evening~

After enjoying a delicious meal, it was time for the check to be paid which Stan did not let you look at. He even left a twenty-dollar bill for your waitress who was very kind and attentive to you two. You were walking towards the exit together when Stan said, “Hold on. I gotta go take a leak. I’ll be back.” You nodded and stood outside the bathroom doors waiting for him.

As soon as he left, a man began to approach you. He was young and smelled like cheap cigarettes and body spray. He had sunglasses propped up on his slicked back hair. He grinned, leaning onto the wall next to you. “What’s a girl like you doing with an old man like that?” You rolled your eyes at him and instead stared at the glowing EXIT sign above you. You felt a hot breath near your ear and your body went tight.

“Hey, I asked you a question,” he growled. “You gonna answer me?” You felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. “He isn’t half the man that I am. I can show you a good time, y’know.” His mouth was so close to your face. Your mouth was going dry.

“Hey, dickhead.”

The man turned around to immediately get knocked to the floor by Stan Pines. He held his nose as he cried out in pain, blood splattered on his face. Stan then knelt beside him and pulled the man up by the collar of his shirt.

“Remember my face when you try and pull this shit again,” Stan spat before punching him again in the jaw. The man went unconscious as Stan dropped him to the floor. He stood up, wiping the blood from his knuckles onto his pants.

“C’mon, toots. Let’s get you home.” He offered his arm to you, and you finally walked out of the restaurant to the car. He began to drive down the road, but you knew you weren’t going to go far. You were staring at him speechless. Your mind was racing over what you wanted to do to him after seeing him stand up for you like that.

Stan interrupted the silence by saying, “Oh, I saw this little mark you left by the way.” He tapped his cheek where the outline of your lips remained. He chuckled. “Can’t believe I’ve been walking around like this.” He was smiling, but his face fell when turned to you and saw your expression. Your eyes were glazed over; you weren’t focused on a word he was saying. Your eyes were on his lips.

“Pull over,” you demanded.

“What? Why?” Stan asked, confused.

You placed your hand on his thigh and whispered in his ear. “Pull over.” Stan’s breath hitched in his throat as your kissed below his ear. He slowed down and parked in an abandoned gravel road. It was a dead end, and he had driven far enough into the woods that you couldn’t see the car from the road. Not that you really cared.

He turned off the car, and you unbuckled your seatbelt. He did the same. You climbed over the console to straddle him and immediately plant your lips on his. It was fervent and sloppy. He groaned at the intensity at which you kissed him, his hands trying to figure out where to go. Your fingers were carding through his thick gray hair while your tongue slips past his mouth. You moan at the taste of him. He tasted of the glass of wine he had at the restaurant.

Stan’s hands grab your hips through your dress as you hold his face in your hands. You break away from the kiss to look at him. His mouth was smeared with your lipstick, and his hair was a mess. It was incredibly sexy. Stan gazed at you with dilated pupils, breath becoming ragged. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispered, pulling you into another kiss. It was much sweeter than the one you gave him. He then seemed ashamed. “I-I’m sorry if I went a little far earlier. I just can’t stand to see anybody talk to you like that.”

You put your finger against his lips to shush him. “Stanley Pines, you punching that douchebag was the single hottest things I have ever seen.” You leaned into the crook of his neck. “And I am going to fuck your brains out for it.” He let out a gasp as your lips collided with his again. One hand was holding you in place by the small of your back while the other was frantically looking for the lever to lower the seat. You let out a surprised yelp as the seat fell completely flat.

Stan chuckled. “Scare ya’, doll?”

You grinned at him. “Not at all, old man.” You began kissing down his neck and below his ear. He sighed, hands travelling down to squeeze your ass. Your breath shuddered at the contact. You decided that you were wearing too much clothing for either of your liking. You quickly unzipped your dress and shimmied out of it. You tossed the now useless fabric to the side. Your breasts were exposed due to the lack of a bra.

Stan let out a sharp exhale at the sight of you. “Fuck…Come here, sweet thing.” You giggled as he pulled you towards him. He started planting kisses on your breasts. You used your hands to prop yourself against the backseat to give him more room to fondle you. He began kneading your breasts before licking over your nipple. You let out an obscene sound at the contact of his hot mouth on you. He then sucked your nipple into his mouth while he rolled the other one between his fingers.

“Stan…” you breathed.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” Stan murmured against your breast, sucking your other nipple into his mouth.

“It feels so good,” you replied, gripping his broad shoulders. You leaned down to brush your lips against his. “Let me make you feel good.”

“But you are making me feel good,” he grumbled, kissing the valley between your breasts.

A blush spread across your face. You loved how much he loved your body. He always made you feel so confident. “I know, but…” You placed your hand on his pronounced jaw and made him look up at you. “I want to make you feel even better, honey.” He had a devilish grin on his face.

“Okay then,” he said laying his back against the seat and putting his hands behind his head. “Do what you want.” You smiled at him innocently as you removed your red lace panties. You tossed them at his face, and he began laughing. You swiveled your body so that you were laying on his chest and working to unbuckle his pants. His pants had grown tight around his erection while you worked to free it.

You felt Stan’s hands begin to rub your outer thighs and ass. “Lovin’ the view back here, sugar.” You just know he had that dumb smirk on his face. He then grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to his face. You gasped feeling his breath against your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me,” he growled. You watched as he dick twitched in his boxers. His tongue delved into you, licking deep. You cried out as you felt him circle around your clit. He moaned and began to grab your hips harder and pull you flush against his face. You needed him so bad. You yanked down his boxers to reveal his pulsing cock before putting him in in your mouth. He groaned against you; his tongue moving at a faster pace.

You hollowed out your mouth, moving your head up and down. Your hands moved to massage his thighs causing him to buck into your mouth. His hands travelled up your back to your breasts. He pinched your nipples; a squeak escaped your mouth making Stan chuckle. His large, calloused hands felt wonderful against your smooth skin. You tried to focus on his dick and not on how good everything felt by licking and sucking him. He grunted and grasped at your breasts.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Get off me I wanna cum inside you.” You smiled and removed your mouth from him not before giving his pink tip a kiss. You scooted up, missing the feeling of his hot mouth on your cunt. You knew something even better was coming, though. You turned to face him. His face was glistening from your essence, caught all in his beard. His eyes were dark taking in your body. You caressed his face as you slid down onto him. You hissed from the perfect stretch he provided.

He let out loud moan while digging his fingers into your hips. You threw your head back and planted your knees on his strong chest. You liked doing this so you could bounce on him easier and faster. You moved your core up and down him, eyes rolling in the back of your head. Stan couldn’t help but watch you make yourself feel good using him. He thought you looked so pretty like this. The way your hair bounced and your breasts jiggled mesmerized him. He thought your face was the best part, however. Your lips were parted, eyes screwed shut, and eyebrows scrunched together. It was so sexy.

“Stan, stan…I’m so close,” you breathed.

“Me too, doll.” He gritted his teeth and started thrusting into you, holding you down on his cock. You yelled out, feeling that familiar feeling wash over you. Your breath was erratic as spasms rocked your body. Stan took this opportunity to ride out his own high. His hips were moving faster and faster, hitting your G-spot every time.

It didn’t take long for him to fill you up. His chest was heaving, and a bit of sweat had appeared along his hairline. He looked so handsome. You leaned down and kissed him on his flushed cheeks. He gazed at you lovingly, not saying a word.

“What are you thinking about, cowboy?” you teased.

“I’m thinking that maybe I should punch more guys for you.”

[scekrex]

IM BACK WITH ANOTHER REQUEST

i will most likely appear often so HAH

So like adam has a band right? And they make copious amounts of merch, like think adam plushies and shit, and ftm or male reader finds this merch in a random store and just decides to splurge on adam plushies and shirts and all this crap because he wants to support his boyfriend yea? It can be fallen adam or angel adam, adam’s adam lmao

(i wanted to add ftm because i am ftm, u can make it just plain male if that works better!)

Nuh uh bitch, you want ftm so we're making it ftm also this turned out a lil short but I hope you like it nonetheless.

That’s my fucking boyfriend, you intolerant cunts

pairing: Adam x trans!male!reader

warnings: language, reader gets misgendered (once)

note: not beta read bc fuck you

Having a famous boyfriend wasn’t always a good thing, especially when said boyfriend was Adam. It was bad enough that basically all of Heaven knew him for being the first man, the fact that Adam had decided to also be the lead singer and the face of his own band made it even worse, because that gave strangers an actual reason to walk up to Adam and talk to him. And now people did not only know Adam, they also knew you. He wasn’t very subtle about dating you - not that you wanted him to be, you found it quite adorable how proud Adam was of having you as his boyfriend. But Heaven’s people could be complicated and less tolerant - a thing you had to learn the hard way.

The intolerance of people had been way worse when the brunette and you had just started dating years ago, back then people didn’t even know Adam was bisexual. You and him were walking through Heaven’s streets, having a nice chat while also enjoying each other's company. The first man had his arm wrapped around your waist, he made it quite obvious that he liked you, not only by the way he looked at you every now and then, but also by his body language. The tip of his wing rested on your shoulder, he had you pressed close to his side - seeming a little overprotective and maybe even possessive.

That was when a small crowd of people surrounded the both of you, taking pictures of you and your boyfriend without your consent and asking Adam a million questions. Out of reflex you pressed your body against Adam’s side, trying desperately to escape the curious eyes and the flashing cameras. Adam was quick to raise his wing and shield you from their view. “How are you?” one of them asked Adam, not noticing that they were interrupting a sweet moment between boyfriends. “Can we take a picture together?” another angel asked as they took a picture of Adam without his consent. “Who’s the chick you’re hiding?” And that question made you tense up. A chick. They thought you were a woman. But before you were able to correct them, the first man pushed the noisy people out of the way - and let’s just say that he wasn’t gentle about it - as he hissed, “That’s my fucking boyfriend, you intolerant cunts.”

But then there were the bright sides of having a famous boyfriend - the merch. Well, actually there were more bright sides than just merch, but seeing shirts with your boyfriend’s face printed on it was quite hilarious to you and the fact that multiple stores in Heaven sold the merch of Adam’s band with such pride made it even better. The store you were in that very day made it even better. The brunette had told you a couple weeks ago that he and his band were working on selling plushies of themselves - he had explained that chicks loved cute shit and given that the majority of their fans were women that made a lot of sense. At least to you and Adam.

You stepped up to the shelves and took a closer look at the new plushies and you chuckled how inaccurate they looked. You didn’t know whether Adam and his band mates wanted them to look like that or if the production simply fucked up, but knowing your boyfriend and his friends, they most likely were too lazy to design them to look accurate. You grabbed one of the Adam plushies off the shelf - it was surprisingly soft - and without thinking twice about it you put the soft plushie in the shape of your boyfriend in your shopping cart. The other plushies on the shelf followed and the shirts hanging from the wall didn’t remain untouched either - let’s just say that you were quite surprised by how many different printed shirts they had with Adam’s face on it, because fuck, there had been a lot.

When you got back home from grocery shopping a couple hours later, Adam chuckled at how you tried to drag the quite heavy bags into the kitchen before he decided to help you with it. “The fuck did you buy? Rocks?” he joked as he lifted the heavy bags onto the kitchen counter. The brunette opened one of the bags to help you put away the groceries and when he was met with one of the plushies he and his band mates started to sell not so long ago, he raised an eyebrow at you. You simply shrugged, grabbed the bag filled with merch and pulled it off the counter, “Someone’s gotta support your ass after all.” And Adam couldn’t really argue against that.

[blatantlackofdecorum]

do you write for multiple characters at once? liek simple headcannons but w a few characters included? if not just ignore this but if you do what about ron, brett, and / or andre (feel free to pick who u wanna write for lol) with a Short™️ reader ? i really love what you've posted so far :P

I do! of course, and thank you!! I’m including height headcanons for everyone too. 

Brett Hand

- brett stands at around 6′2″ or 74 inches. he’s the second tallest of the three, but has always been a little intimidated by anyone taller than him. so he mentions it less than ron does.  - the type of man to buy you stools for your kitchen if he see’s you struggling to get anything. he won’t even mention it to you, but some days you randomly notice a lot of unannounced furniture. if he see’s something starting to wear or tear, he’ll just get you a new one. call him irresponsible with his money all you want, he just wants to make things easier for you.  - oh the hugs are supreme. whether he’s checking in on you at work or simply just gotten home, draping his arms across your waist and hugging you from behind, to his chest has to be one of his favorite things. you could practically use him as a pillow and he’d still just be happy to have you with him.  - would not hesitate to pick you up if needed. piggy back rides? he’s literally built for it, need to grab something high up? he’s right there without a second thought. he does tend to lay out his house a bit differently when the two of you start dating, if he knows you’ll be over he sets out any coffee supplies you could need on his counter so you don’t have to stress over it in the morning.  - he does worry though, he knows you can take care of yourself but, if someone hurt you, especially while he wasn’t there, he couldn’t live with himself. just a little more cautious about your safety, (will splurge on any self defense tool you could ask for) he will not hesitate to get weirdly protective the second someone so much as looks at you wrong.  - will occasionally call you short or shorty, but if he ever sensed it making you uncomfortable he’d stop. if he knows you well enough, he’s able to read you like a book. very hypervigilant. 

Ron Staedtler 

- ron is definitely the tallest of the three at a staggering 6′4″ or 76 inches. he’s also definitely the one that mentions it the most. he’s used to being the tallest person in the room, but he is such a tease. 

- this man spends most of his time with you in his arms in some form or another. pda is already a strong-suit of his. leaning his head on your shoulder while you’re working? his fingers laced with his or his arm snaked around your shoulder? he loves it. can’t get enough of it.  - definitely holds stuff above your head, waits for you to reach up and kisses you when you do. that’s practically his favorite move, and he pulls it off quite well every-time. he’s a pain in the ass but he really does love you.. he does get over affectionate sometimes, so prepare to be occasionally smothered in pecks.  - will just grab stuff off shelves for you if needed, don’t think you won’t get a chuckle or two out of him as he does though. (if you get tired of his shenanigans and climb on the counter though he’ll cheer you on regardless) 

- i’d say you get scary dog privileges but he’s more mildly concerning if anything. that being said if anyone ever tried to mess with you, they can prepare for an awful surprise when he stumbles upon it. he’s a nice guy but he knows how to kick some serious ass. 

- very soft, will spoon the living hell out of you, (and doesn’t really have a preference between big spoon or little spoon) on one hand being coddled does feel pretty nice, and the other, he gets to wrap around you.. win win. 

Andre Lee

- andre is our shortest member of the three, at 5′9″ or 69 inches, 😌 this only means that he isn’t used to people being much shorter than him in relationships, which means he’ll definitely notice it more.  - he finds he actually does like being the taller one, but he is not nearly as showoffish as ron. if he sees you struggling to reach something? he’ll grab it for you. it was originally how the two of you met, you were struggling to grab a coffee cup from the top shelf of one of the cognito kitchens, and he noticed. not wanting to be awkward he grabbed it and delivered it to your desk.. than realized he made it a bit more awkward.  - prepare for a lot of time spent with his head resting on yours, especially if he's tired. he falls asleep holding you a lot ( otherwise he tends to have trouble staying asleep) usually leaving you half awake and tangled in limbs. not that you really mind it.    - might crack a few more jokes about it if he’s high, but he usually has a higher standard for humor than that, (absolute lie, if you so much as say ball around him he’ll giggle like a mad man) bad habit. if anyone else ever jokes about it though prepare to be lectured, only he can make fun of his s/o - would not hesitate to provide you platforms or heels if you were insecure (or dysphoric) about your height, but he thinks it’s just a part of you and won’t hesitate to remind you of that. prepare for him bragging over his perfect partner anytime you mention feeling insecure.    - he’s just stupid in love with you, your height will never change that. <3 

[astroluvr]

Jack taking noah to the grocery store and he gets hit on and they say noahs really cute so noah goes “thanks i look just like my mommy” or its the reader with noah, you can choose. Cause i like the idea of noah snitching on one of them when they get back home like “daddy/mommy got asked on a date”

-🌎 anon

a/n: this request was a while ago, but i haven't seen my 🌎 anon in a minute... but noah is around three in this story! making jack and y/n 20/21! not very important to this particular story tho lol

***

You and Noah had been out all day long, having a bonding day. After the both of you had a long week with school- being that you were still only two years into your studies, and Noah was just mastering his alphabet- you both got dressed and took the stores.

After getting dressed in a black dress that coordinated Noah's matching sweats, you both had a breakfast at a tiny diner that you all loved to have breakfast at before Jack left for the studio.

Following that, you and Noah treated yourselves to a series of activities. From the zoo where he mimicked each animal with ease, to ice cream at a park where you just so happened to catch a live band. After dancing around the park and making yourselves look silly underneath a tree, you decided to head to the mall where Noah's favorite toy store was.

There was once a time when all you and Jack could do was frown sadly when Noah dug his heels in the floor in front of the store, but now you could walk inside proudly and buy him almost anything he wanted.

Now, with Jack's new singles slowly rising towards popularity, you guys had the ability to splurge more. It wasn't long ago that you all bought a new house- one that was probably bigger than you needed, but Jack was adamant about it- not budging on having enough kids to take up all the room.

You were happy to see that although Noah didn't have an understanding of how he had the new things he did, that he didn't seem significantly happier now than before. Which to you, was a win as a parent.

"Is this what you wanted, bubba?" you asked, reaching towards the giant dinosaur plush.

"Yes, please." he lisped politely, bouncing on his toes as if he could reach it from where he was.

It was just out of your grasp, and you realized just how often Jack was there to pull things that were out of reach down without you even having to think about it.

"Alright, let me get someone to help because-"

The long arm coming from behind you, startled you both, making Noah squeak out a 'hey' and you place a hand on his back instinctively. The man who held the dinosaur chuckled as he handed it to you.

He was obviously much older than you, and you certainly knew that you didn't look to be in his age range- which made the situation all the more uncomfortable when he smirked at you before leaning his head back towards Noah.

"How you doing, shorty?" you cringed at his delivery, and Noah giggled too, forcing a smile from you that the man mistakenly took as his own. "I noticed you couldn't reach it, so I had to come help you."

"Thank you, I was just about to get someone to help us, but..." you gestured out awkwardly and the he chuckled.

"So, who is little man you're with? Your nephew?"

"This is my mommy!" Noah frowned, and you rubbed his back.

"Yeah, he's my son. It's hard to tell because he looks just like his daddy, I know."

"He with you?" the man quirked an eyebrow, and you laughed. "What?"

"I think this is all very flattering, but I'm engaged." you tried to ease out of the exchange before Noah's fist balled up any tighter, but the man was seeing no way out.

"I don't see no ring. What? Your dude can't afford it?"

That line irritated you. You had heard it a thousand times in every variation, but it always came from someone who had no idea how amazing Jack was, or how much you loved each other.

"Actually, my 'dude' is the reason that I'm in this store right now, and I'm able to buy our son whatever the fuck he wants out of this store."

"Chill." he said, laughing as if he hadn't been in the wrong. "I'm just saying, I could buy your son whatever he wanted. And however many of these dresses you want because you look good."

"There is no way in hell I'd leave my man for your sorry ass." you scoffed, and Noah unballed his fist from the fabric of your dress.

"That's how you feel?"

"Was it not clear?" you raised an eyebrow and in the beat of silence, Noah gathered up his entire vocabulary.

"My mama loves my daddy, not you."

And without another word, you pulled Noah to your hip and grabbed his plush to head straight for the register.

The drive back to your home was short, but it was enough for Noah to giggle to himself several times. After stopping for one more treat to have for desert, you were both walking into your home to find Jack in the kitchen.

"Hey, baby, hey bubba!" he yelled out, setting down what he was using to cook to get to you both and kiss you respectively.

"Hey, shorty!" Noah yelled back, and your cheeks warmed before Jack laughed and looked down at the boy.

"What did you say?"

"Said, hey, shorty!" Noah let out another round of giggles that made Jack shake his head before looking at you.

"What have you been teaching our son?"

"I-"

"Mama didn't teach it, the man did?"

"The man?"

"Noah, baby-"

"Ah, ah, ah. Let me hear this." Jack picked up his son and set him on the counter, crossing his arms to hear.

To spare yourself from the imminent teasing, you tried to walk out of the kitchen, but Jack's arm wrapped around your waist to reel you back into him.

"When we were at the store, somebody said, 'hey, shorty' to my mama!"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mmhmm. What'd Mama do?" Jack turned to look at you to find you rolling your eyes.

"She said bad words! A-and I said that Mama loves you, not him!"

"That's my man." Jack grabbed Noah's face to leave a loud kiss to his forehead. "Alright, you're free to go until dinner."

After Noah ran towards the living room, Jack turned back to you, pulling you against his chest and kissing your forehead. You assumed that he'd let it go, but with Noah being inclined to tell anyone everything, that was not very likely.

"So, you cussed someone out because they flirted with you? I knew you had a little crush on me, but damn."

"I really don't like you that much." you eased your way from his arms and went to the fridge to pull out a water bottle.

"Then, why, Mama?" Jack narrowed his eyes at you as you opened the water bottle. "Hm?"

"Because he was talking shit about you."

"He doesn't even know me, it doesn't matter."

"Either way, he has no business talking about you. It just irritated me." you shrugged it off and Jack frowned when he noticed how closed off you became.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. I'm the only person allowed to talk about you." you teased him, and he chuckled before pulling you back into him.

"You know I don't care about what people say about me, right?" he told you, his voice low as he spoke into your neck.

"I know, but you're good to us. And I know it was stupid to go off on that guy, but I'm tired of hearing it. You work hard, and you love us."

"I love you more than anything."

"I love you, too." you told him, leaning up for a kiss.

"Oh, I know you love your man." You rolled your eyes and Jack laughed before letting you go. "Now, I really have to put a ring on that finger, so people know you're my girl."

"Yeah, that would save me a lot of trouble. I mean, look at me, I'm bound to get hit on." you turned slightly to give him the best angle of your butt and giggled when he blushed.

"Hey, that's mine!" Jack yelled behind you, as you ran out of the kitchen before he could grab you again.

[scoundrels-in-love]

Where there is love, there is life (Love lives, and I will defend her)

Unexpectedly left without Milly, the trio enjoy a quiet evening and perfect morning in which they struggle to keep to the lines they've so strictly decided to keep for self preservation. An unfortunate turn of events makes Vash and Wolfwood face just how important Meryl is to them and to what lengths they're willing to go to save her. | Mashwood | 1/4 chapters | On Ao3 | | Grievous Injury & Recovery | Feral & Biblically accurate Vash | Angst with happy ending | Idiots suffering from Mutual Pining | Bed sharing |

It's a perfect morning.

The three of them are crowded around a small table in a booth with plush seats on the first floor of the establishment that feels more like a proper hotel than an inn, as patchy and overpriced as it is. It is to be expected, on the edge of April.

The coffee is strong and she's allowed herself to splurge on milk and sugar. It tastes like the real thing, even. 

The boys are bickering about something or other and she's throwing in a comment or two at times just to rile both of them up further, smiling into her cup at their shared, indignant sputtering.

Wolfwood's knee knocks into hers as he leans back into his seat, quirking his eyebrow at the other man. In retaliation, Vash kicks Nicholas lightly and his calf brushes against Meryl's and she drinks this casual closeness, for once uncomplicated and just a blend of them, like the coffee she’s sipping. 

Her thoughts drift from their table and end up with Milly, a tinge of guilt murking her content mood. She shouldn't be so happy that her coworker had rushed ahead to be there for the birth of her newest nephew - after much reassurance from their group that she could - that the three of them had gotten delayed, that it is just them at this table on this perfect morning. But she is.

To ease her conflicted feelings, Meryl thinks about how they should telegram Milly and let her know they're coming - that the detour they took to follow a lead on the Eye of Michael facility turned out to be cold. It had been an empty, metallic husk of a building, scraped clean of most horrors performed there, and it had been relief and devastation all in one, because it didn't happen there anymore, but it surely happened elsewhere.

(She will not write in such detail, because nothing is safe. And even when they meet up again, she will not speak of the way Nicholas had trembled in the backseat for hours on their way back. Shook to the point even Vash could not hold him together and she had stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, beneath the blistering midday suns, and climbed in the back to bracket him from the other side.

Meryl does not know if it had brought comfort to him, but it had selfishly done so for her, to feel him warm and breathing, having lived through things beyond her comprehension, to hold onto her now with bruising force as gradually sparser spasms wrecked his body. Facing those steel colored rooms had reminded her how close she came to never knowing him, how much his every heartbeat was borrowed from pain. 

Those moments are theirs alone.)

She finishes composing the telegram in her head just as the plates piled generously with wonderfully smelling food is brought and they dig into it with gusto. It's best any of them have had in a while and they're not shy about saying that - being in a city with multiple functioning plants has its wonderful benefits. And still, a certain ache has dripped into the happiness she had been wrapping herself up in. Classic Meryl, ruining everything good with overthinking. Never able to just exist in a moment and enjoy it.  Sometimes to the point she's too focused on memorizing it instead of living it out.

At least she'd managed to strike some balance of it all last night, she thinks as she orders a dessert and another coffee. Wolfwood jokes that this must be why she saved on the bedroom cost - to splurge on treats - and she reminds him that at least it’s not a daily expense like his cigarettes, earning a scowl, since the topic is a source of heated debate often. Spurred by her good mood, she appeases him with a promise of a bite of the cake and Vash, too, since he immediately begins to whine about being left out. It works well enough and she gets to enjoy the rest of the dessert in relative peace, contemplating just how they’d come to be here.

---

When faced with the choice at the front desk, it seems logical to ask for just one room for them. The rates are exorbitant, Milly isn't here to take the other bed if she got a separate room and there are no singles left, making it a waste, and the three of them have shared the objectively much smaller space of the car's backseat and other cramped spots through the years.

But by the time they're in the room and she's staring at the bed, it doesn't seem like such a sound decision anymore. There is no way she is going to give up her rights to stretch out on a mattress, but that means she'll have to share space with one - or both - men and she can hardly imagine them all fitting without heat settling in her face. Maybe because it's a bed, taking away from their usual camping out vibes when they're packed close, on top of each other even, upon waking. 

Instead, the scenes conjured by her mind are much more deliberate. Pressed close to them, between them, held and holding in return as they fall asleep, content and warm in a way she's only ever felt in stolen moments with Vash and Nicholas. Moments she steals away from the world and the time, over the walls they put around themselves, and hoards more greedily than she cares to admit.  

Moments in which she can imagine they all feel the same and pressing a kiss to a sleepy face or an arm draped over her would not be out of place, would not be asking for what has actually never been offered. That she isn't reading too much into the affection that bubbles up in Vash's bright eyes, his smile, when he spins her in a dance, Wolfwood's hand on her lower back guiding her through the crowd or ruffling her hair. That….

She is so, so fucked if she sinks too deep in the comfort offered by this bed.

"I'm getting showered first," Wolfwood announces, interrupting her thoughts and at her hey! only smirks, "you snooze, you lose."

God, she hopes she wasn’t spacing out and staring at the bed the entire time.

Instead of facing the possibility that she had been, Meryl unpacks some necessities, then sits down next to Vash on the edge of the bed. He’s taken off his coat, folded it neatly as he always does, and is now fiddling with his prosthetic and doesn’t object when she gently interrupts to take over the process. When it comes off, his soft exhale makes her heart ache. She sets it on the chair he’s claimed for his belongings and returns to the spot beside him, bites back a smile when Vash takes off his glasses and leaves them folded on the nightstand. They’re so much more than an aid in sharpshooting or protection from the suns and that he feels secure to be without them in the quiet hours before sleep in their small company still sets a flutter in her chest. 

For a bit, they sit in companionable silence, shoulder to shoulder, and Meryl thinks of the long road that has led them here, of the iles and years they’ve marched through, and how somehow, they’re the ones that feel the realest and sincerest of her entire life. 

Her musings are interrupted by the bathroom door opening and Meryl looks up and then jolts, tearing her gaze away as Wolfwood comes out of the bathroom shirtless and his hair damp. Still too slow to not notice a trickle of water rolling down his neck and another one running across his muscled chest he's so fond of displaying, before disappearing into the dark hairs.

It's not that she hasn't seen Nicholas in various states of undress, sometimes because he has no shame and sometimes because he is injured, bleeding out while his miracle potion sets in, and in the aftermath of him washing and mending the clothes that bear marks of his injuries (like her nightmares do, too, and nothing fixes those). She should be used to it and most of the time she is, but sometimes a strange awareness settles in, an impression of a want, and she doesn't know what to do about it.

So Meryl just looks away and waits it out. This time she also uses the chance to occupy the bathroom and sighs softly with relief once the doors are shut. It's mostly for the chance to wash off sweat and dust, but also for some solitude to compose herself in.

If she takes longer than she normally would, no one has to know.

Once she comes out, Wolfwood is already occupying half of the bed (the closest one to doors, as he always does) and from the way Vash is angled away, slumped just so, it looks like they have had a little tiff about something, though at least Vash is keen on pretending everything is fine. He smiles at her on his way to the bathroom and she returns it, because it's easy to melt into something warm, content and echoing him.

As she approaches the bed, Nicholas rakes his gaze up her bare legs to the edge of her sleeping shorts, lingering there, before moving up to her black tank top slowly as if its tightness has anything to really accentuate. She’s grateful to lay down, back to him, because she can't bear to put her flushed face under similar scrutiny, stare into his dark eyes or avoid looking at his still naked torso. There is no sleeping until Vash is settled in, not for her. 

"You guys okay?" She asks after a while, fingers pulling at a loose thread on the covers. She has learned to read both men well by now, but there is so much she doesn't understand about them and the bond that ties them together. (That she never will because she is a mere human that has stumbled into their lives.)

Blood, faith, trust, devotion to the human in the other that he's failing to see himself and understanding of the beast the world has sharpened part of him into. She is jealous and protective of it, this closeness Vash and Wolfwood share. 

"Oh yes, Blondie’s being dense again, 's all."

"What is it this time?" Concern bubbles up, though she knows it can’t be anything too important, since it’s popped up in such a calm moment.

"Same thing as always for the last year or two. You should ask him yourself. I bet you could persuade him to see reason, Shortstack." 

There’s an odd tone to his voice and Meryl thinks that maybe she had been wrong. Of course they’d get into serious topics even now. Worry curdles into a rock in her stomach. "Is this about Knives? You know he won't change his mind about that, no matter what."

Wolfwood barks a rough laugh. "No, not about that psycho." Then he seems to reconsider. "Well, maybe a little about him, but not the way ya think."

"You should either stop talking in riddles or shut up entirely," Meryl glares at him over her shoulder, expecting a cocky grin bearing down at her, but Wolfwood's face is unexpectedly contemplative. It does little to alleviate her worries. 

Before anything else is said, Vash emerges from the bathroom. His dark underclothes cling to his body like he'd toweled off in a hurry and she sees the outlines of the metal parts sown into him that she doesn't really know the purpose of. Even so, she very much can fully appreciate his lean but muscled form, highlighted like this. 

Usually she gets to see it only when she's fretting over his injuries or stealing a glance or two when she comes for a late night conversation in his and Wolfwood's room, sometimes under the pretense of needing something clarified for her work, sometimes merely because.

Vash moves past the bed, digs into his bag and then throws down his personal, thin blanket on the floorboards.

"I'm going to stay here," he says and flops on the floor without ceremony.

"No!" She objects with more volume than intended, just as a large hand comes to wrap around her waist and haul her backwards until she's pressed flush against Nicholas.

"Suit yerself, Spikey, but there's plenty of space 'ere."

If blushing had a sound, she'd be emitting it loudly right now. She elbows Wolfwood slightly, but has to admit this way, there's definitely more place for Vash to settle into.

"He's right for once. We didn't pay a frankly outrageous sum for you to sleep on the floor. I won't be able to rest if I know you're getting back pain."

She feels Nico's chuckle against her back. "Did ya hear that? Lady can't sleep without ya. You won't deny our princess her rest, will ya?"

Calling her his or theirs is a sure way to get under her skin and it works, though she suspects not entirely the way Wolfwood intends and she has no plans of sharing that. So, Meryl elbows him with more force this time and pulls a little away from him, but gives her best pleading look to Vash nonetheless. Nicholas might be an ass and teasing both of them simultaneously, but she isn’t above using it as leverage to get what she wants. 

Vash looks at both of them for a quiet, inscrutable moment and Meryl’s pout almost wavers as her stomach prepares to drop.

Then he scrambles into the bed, on the very edge of it, but he’s there nonetheless and she gives him an approving smile, before pulling most of the thin blanket off of Nicholas and draping it over Vash and herself. Wolfwood complains behind her, but doesn’t put in the effort to reclaim it and she shares a soft laugh with Vash. Briefly, they all sink into a quiet sort of contentment, painted softly golden by the lamplight, before Vash turns it off and lets the shadows wash over them instead. 

They exchange good nights and Meryl feels some tension slowly drain out of her. But it’s not enough and where her awareness had been previously dialed to ten and locked on Vash and Nicholas, it now loses focus and clutches to every crease in her tank top pressing against her skin, every bump in the mattress, the way her limbs aren’t comfortable for more than a minute no matter how she twists and turns them. She tries to move minimally, knowing how disruptive it must be, especially in this minimal space they share, but she can’t endure not trying to find a way to be a little more comfortable. 

Suddenly, a hand comes to rest on her hip, stilling her and pressing her into the mattress. “I swear to God, Meryl, if you don’t stop wriggling…” Nicholas whispers in a rough voice and with the use of her name, it almost sounds like a promise, one that she would love to hear the entirety of, as her heart speeds up. His broad fingers span far across her stomach, index finger slipping beneath where her tank top has ridden up and pressing like a brand into her bare skin. 

Sometimes, they really make it easy to misunderstand and get her thinking all kinds of nonsense. 

Fuelled by pure spite against herself as much as Wolfwood, she gives one proper, good full body wiggle, but this time in the direction of Vash. Nicholas lets her go, though his hand remains on her hip.

“I am going to bite both of you if you don’t settle down,” Vash sleepily says, while welcoming her to rest her forehead against his collarbone all the same. There’s minimal but still existing distance between the rest of their bodies, she knows she’d overheat quickly if they pressed more closely, but this much contact feels the right amount of comforting. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Blondie.”

Vash makes a sound she can’t quite decipher and Meryl has to stifle a laugh (and chase away a few images that align more with Nicholas’ proposed vision than she’d like to admit).

None of them talk after this and though the exchange had initially added to her nervous energy, it gradually starts to dissipate as the silence goes on and she lets the warmth of touch anchor her into calm waters of rest. 

She wakes gradually, thoughts filtering in one by one. Most of them are about early morning sunlight shining onto her closed eyelids. At some point, she tries to turn and bury her face in the warmth to her left, but there's a weight on her chest and she remains put on her back. 

It's probably what truly wakes her and when she looks down, she sees a mop of messy blonde hair, most of Vash's face buried in her chest at an angle she can't see it. She does see his arm thrown over her middle, though, palm curled on Wolfwood's stomach. Her own left arm is thrown over Nico's chest, hand somewhere in the proximity of his jaw, while the other partially hangs off the bed. Her firm and hot pillow, she guesses, is Wolfwood's arm. His face is turned toward her, relaxed in a way she's hardly ever seen.

She can't even begin to guess at the configuration of their tangled legs. One of hers is definitely bent at an awkward angle and buried between and under something. God only knows where most of the blanket has gone, though she can see that Vash has wrapped himself up in some of it.

Meryl bites her lip, a swell of emotions in her chest, right beneath Vash's cheek. Sleep has once again eroded the barriers, the minimal distance they all maintain during the day. And though she thinks there is little more to it than the very human need to shift and seek out warmth when the desert night gets cold, it still twists her heart into some lopsided, wishful thing. Seeing Vash and Wolfwood seek out comfort and accept it, even unconsciously, always will, she thinks. Even more so when she's somehow included in the equation, if merely by chance.

She'd give anything to stay like this forever. She'd give anything to not be so damn uncomfortable all the while. Laying still and aware truly isn't her strong suit and when all of the other discomforts are pushed aside, her nose begins to itch like it's paid to. She knows how easy both men are to wake so there's nothing she can really do about it but try to wiggle the itch away.

A tanned hand enters her vision, rubbing the tip of her nose right where the itch is the worst. "G'morn," Wolfwood says barely above a whisper, voice scratchy with sleep. It tugs on her wobbly heart.

Her fingers twitch against his jaw, an almost caress, before she rubs at her itchy nose herself, pushing his hand gently away. He withdraws it and drapes it over her and Vash instead. Somewhere lower, Vash mumbles five more minutes and nuzzles deeper into her, his arm shifting upward and tighter around her simultaneously.

She can feel gathering wetness from his now parted mouth sink through the fabric of her tank top and well, this certainly isn't how she had imagined getting his mouth on her or her breasts… 

Meryl's ears begin to burn as she mentally swats those images away. It's not that she's thought about it much at all, really. Or how pretty Vash's mouth is in general.

"Spikey's certainly had a night of wonderful dreams. He's usually first to wake and all that," Wolfwood rumbles and though she knows it's true, that Vash feeling safe enough to not become fully alert immediately is a rare thing, she smacks her hand backwards across his chest for the way he phrases it.

Unfortunately, it turns out Vash's hand is resting there now and she hits him more than Nicholas. Which does finally bring him out of his half-asleep state.

The blond blinks sleepily up at her from where he's still very much pressed against her breasts, making an inquiring sound that makes her think of a cat that has been gently poked awake. He looks content and happy and her heart wobbles again, aching to hold him, and her free hand comes to tangle into his hair.

But before she can, he wakes up. His blue eyes widen almost comically as he springs up and backward, his legs tangled up in the blanket flying upward as he tumbles out of bed in panic and lands on his back, arm spread to one side, but already apologizing. 

"Oh God! I'm sorry!"

"Are you okay??"

"I'm so sorry, Meryl, I -"

"It's okay you were asleep -"

"Where's my apology, Blondie, you fondled my tits, too."

"Meryl, I swear-"

"It's fine!"

"No-"

"I didn't mind!!"

Her voice has been raising in volume and the last statement comes out loud, too loud, creating a silence in its wake. Immediate heat floods Meryl's face as she jumps out of the bed and runs to the bathroom, grabbing her change of clothes on the way.

The last thing she hears through the bathroom doors as she turns the water on is Wolfwood bursting into laughter. 

She prepares for the day and then pauses to stare at her reflection in the mirror, mentally preparing for facing the men. It's not that she expects either of them to speak about it - at best, Nicholas will tease her and Vash later, when they least expect it.

It's she who needs to get her thoughts in order and heart untangled from warm threads of longing.

This is nothing new - some of the physical aspects technically are, but not the emotional core. Every time she and Vash drift closer, he pulls back with a start, almost violently. At least this time she can assume Vash acted out of understandable embarrassment, not being mildly appalled to have been so close to her. 

(Unlike the time she had slipped off the car roof while gathering things, only to be caught by Vash. For one perfect moment, he'd held her tenderly and closely and she had felt like in a romance cover, her heartbeat loud in her ears as she looked at his sweet, concerned expression.

And then it had been over as he nearly dropped her in his rush to set her down gently. He'd made sure she was fine and then practically fled to the other side of camp to help Milly with the tent.

She had been without a scratch, but her heart - not so much.)

And for all of Wolfwood's dirty mouth and insinuation, the push and pull ends when it's just the two of them, his laughter gaining an almost nervous, uneven edge that makes her stop pressing into his space, because she would never want to force him into something he doesn't genuinely want. He leans into her casual touch at times, but not as much as he sometimes avoids it entirely lately, as if it could burn him. Maybe he's caught onto her and doesn't want to give her false hope. (It would explain why Vash has been keeping more and more of a distance, too.)

And it is not as if there is a lot of privacy on the road, traveling with Milly, for her to test their boundaries one on one or between the three of them. And it's not as if she has a lot of experience with this. (Not even the pile of magazines for girls and women she had dug through had a lot of tips for pursuing two men together.) In fact, part of her is still very much shying away from accepting that she wants either of them, both of them. To the point that she doesn't even know what that want encompasses entirely.

(To see them happy, to make sure they're taken care of, to express when her heart overflows with fondness, to comfort them without having to doubt if they want her to be there. And maybe to touch, freely. To see if she can tether Vash to the present moment with a kiss, if she can smooth Nico's brow with her thumb. To have mornings like this and afternoons where she can sit in one of their laps and hold their hands and-)

In the end, it might be as simple as her not being their type, in some fundamental or much more miniscule way. They both handle touching and closeness and even vulnerability with each other more easily, at least to her observation. And that's fine. She'll be happy for them, if they ever formulate what binds them. Truly. She hopes they do. They deserve happiness and Meryl knows she'll have space to follow them to the edge and end of the world even then. A step behind them, though, and if it's not the place she wishes it was, that's a her-only problem and she'd never let that ruin their friendship.

She inhales deeply, then exhales, nods at her own reflection and then marches out of the bathroom, just in time to see a pillow sail over Wolfwood’s head, barely missing. Meryl knows Vash had thrown it playfully, otherwise he’d never have missed, no matter how Nicholas tried to duck or dodge. She plants hands on her hips and tuts disapprovingly, though she has to press her lips in a thin line to suppress her smile.

Vash is next off to the bathroom, dodging the same pillow being thrown back and Meryl catches it instead. For a brief moment, she considers getting in the bed and smacking Wolfwood with it directly, but then thinks better of it. She literally just had spent a few minutes reminding herself that she ought not to blur the boundaries anymore just because of her whims.

Nicholas, of course, tries to challenge her anyway, leaning head on propped arm and quirking eyebrow at her, but she demonstratively sets the pillow down on the bed where it belongs and goes about packing up her bag. And just like that, the morning slips onto more familiar, calmer tracks.

---

It’s a mess of a night and a mess of a morning, she has to admit, but it’s theirs and it’s perfect even with the bittersweet feelings she’d had to swallow at times. She wouldn’t trade it for anything else. And the cake is the best she can remember eating, too. 

“You look really happy, Meryl,” Vash comments, resting his head on his fist, watching her with a smile that goes all the way up to his bright eyes, makes them crinkle at the corners. A voice that sounds like her mother’s wants to remind him that you shouldn’t put your elbows on the table, but thankfully it’s almost entirely drowned out by the overlapping warmth and gushing at how cute he looks right now. 

She considers briefly dismissing it with a joke, but she knows he’d see through it and her heart feels translucent like the prism of light dancing across the tablecloth, making it simple… Simpler to be honest. “I am,” Meryl admits and has to look away from Vash's brilliant smile widening.

“Guess we gotta feed her cakes more often then,” Wolfwood comments, just as he steals another forkful from hers, but Meryl doesn't even protest. If she opens her mouth, she will end up saying it's them that make her the happiest and the ease between them will shatter.

It does, anyway, with shouts and the sound of gunfire from outside. 

Immediately, Vash and Nicholas spring to their feet. "Go to our room, wait it out. We will fetch you when it's over," Vash says with urgency, giving her a push in the direction of the stairs and she nods, feeling the weight of her uselessness even as she races to the second floor.

Instead of being able to keep them safe, watch their backs, she gets the pointless, painful task of waiting and hoping they will come back to her mostly whole. Her hand moves to her derringer, the solid form and coolness of it comforting as she pulls it out.

Meryl slips into the room and presses against the side of the window, careful so she will not be easily spotted from below. There are a few people in all too familiar suits, masks on their faces, marching down the street and her heart jumps into her throat. What is the Eye of Michael looking for here?

Because they clearly are. At every building, one of them splits off  from the rest and enters, breaking or gunning down the door if necessary. She hears the sound of gunfight in the distance, wonders if that's where Vash or Nicholas has engaged another group. 

Instead of an answer to any of those questions, she gets to watch one of the masked figures enter the hotel. There is shouting downstairs and a gun being fired, a scream, but one of fear more than pain.

Meryl strains her hearing, but cannot pick up any other sounds after that for several minutes. The Eye of Michael lackey has not left, at least not through the front door, and her heart is beating in her throat.

Then she hears someone jiggle the door handle. Once, twice. 

Meryl holds her breath and trains the gun at the door. Her grip is steady, far more than she feels at the moment.

"Mom?"

The child's voice is soft and trembling and it sends a shock of fear through Meryl. She thinks of the soft eyed, light haired boy in the photo Nicholas had showed her once, thinks of Rollo, who had grinned in Vash's arms until men like the one downstairs had taken him away and -

She rushes to the doors, fumbles with the key. By the time she gets it open, there is no one there anymore and she peers down the corridor, spots a small form further away, almost by the stairs.

"Kid!" she calls as softly as she can. The child stops and looks back at her, rubbing at his red and wet face with his fists.

"Come here," she reaches with her left hand, hiding the gun behind her back and trying to look as sweet and inviting as she can when shaking apart with worry. For this kid, the two men fighting out there, the people downstairs. "Quietly," she adds, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Miss, do you know where my mom is?" The young boy takes a few steps in her direction, but he isn't very quiet at all. She tries to shush him again as she moves towards him. 

"I need to find my mom, I don't remember which is our room." His lip wobbles and she can tell a heartfelt cry coming when she sees one. She takes a few more hurried steps toward the boy.

"I will help you find her, but after the big noises downstairs are gone, deal?" She offers the boy her hand and the most sincere smile she can muster, just as heavy steps start to move toward the stairs.

The child blessedly decides to trust her and grabs onto her with a clammy, snotty hand, but she knows they're out of time, so Meryl picks him up instead, breaking into a sprint. She'd never realized how long the corridor is, feels until now with the sound of someone rushing toward them.

She sees a shadow at the top of the stairs just as she is closing the door. The sound of the key turning in the lock sounds so damn loud in her ears and she sets the boy down quickly. "Hide, please. Under the bed or in the closet. And don't come out until someone you know tells you it's okay.”

He holds onto her sleeve for a moment, eyes full of tears, and then nods, hurrying toward the closet. She takes her spot in the middle of the room again, raising her gun.

She can't do anything for Vash or Wolfwood, but maybe she can keep this child safe. She has to.

Meryl listens to the heavy footsteps, hears them pass their door and the cracks of wood splintering under a kick and then another. From the lack of screaming and struggle as the person gives the other room a quick, violent rummage, she surmises it had been empty.

And then the steps are back, in front of her door. Their door.

The first kick splits the wooden pane almost in half. The second sends it flying off the hinges and inward, making her stumble backward.

The figure is tall, taller than she expected, and approaches rapidly. She aims for his legs, fires. One bullet goes in his foot and the other in his calf. He doesn't slow at all, but lets out a guttural growl, shoulders slouching like a beast about to jump.

In a second, a huge hand has her by the throat and lifted off the ground. She struggles in the grasp, claws at it with one hand, but she might as well be trying to impact a steel fortress while her vision darkens. 

Mustering all of her strength, Meryl twists the derringer in her hand and slams it down on the assailant's wrist. Break, you fucker.

And for a split second, it is almost like it has worked, because the hold loosens and then she is flying, flying through the glass pane and into the blue sky and the sun is in her eyes, turning everything blindingly white-

[shytastemakerthing]

Hi, I saw matchups were open, so I’d like to submit a romantic matchup request for twisted wonderland?

I’m 5’8, asexual biromantic Capricorn, and an INFP. I plan to be a forensic pathologist once I finish all the required schooling for it. I’ve got a huge interest in corpses, which is why I’m going for forensics.

I’ve got a bunch of interests, like Genshin and Honkai Star Rail, and the Zelda franchise in terms of gaming. I also like doll making, writing, and singing. I’ve been doing choral singing for 8 years, and I was taking vocal lessons since I was a child. I love musical theatre, but I’ve got two left feet and social anxiety so I don’t really like to actually perform in front of people. I tend to also be a bit of a homebody, because cities are a little overwhelming overall.

I’m fairly snarky with people I’m close to, but polite to like, everyone else. I like to lay against people, but my love languages are words of affirmation and gift giving (when giving, I’ll receive any love language). I’m not a night owl or a morning person, I just enjoy getting my sleep. My favourite animals are cats and crows, and I’ve got a crow tattoo that’s just healed that I plan to draw tiny hats on.

Take your time when answering this, and have a wonderful week!

Hello and thank you so much for your request! I hope that this finds you well and that everything is going good for you! Thank you for being patient with me and I hope that you enjoy!

Tw: None

I match you with..........

Idia Shroud

If there is anyone who will join you for your love of games, it's this shut-in introvert. I mean, the man talks in gamer lingo roughly 70% of the time and the rest is just him speed running his talking, but don't worry. After so much time around him, it's a lot easier for you to understand what he's saying.

Giving gifts. Yes. This man has no issues when it comes to financial issues. He has money, lots of it, and now he is able to splurge on someone that he really does love. In this case, you. Nearly every time you meet up with him, he's gotten something new for you. At the moment, his personal favorite is the 'Player Two' necklace. He, of course, has the 'Player One' side of it, no questions about it and he wears it often, and smiles (even his hair turns a lighter shade of pink) when he sees you wearing yours.

It took some time to warm him up to actual physical contact. This man is so touch starved, it's not even funny. And by time, I mean it took several long months before he finally eased into it all and now he can't get enough. You created the monster now you get to deal with it. But when you wake up in the dead of night during a sleep over and you have his arms around you and Idia is straight passed out behind you, that's just fine with you.

Cats. Not much elaboration needs to be placed upon this. They are his absolute favorite animal. He will be watching cat videos with you all of the time. Now, if you actually bring a cat to him, he may just cry. Followed by him being all cuddly with the little animal and taking countless pictures with them.

Idia will 100% draw little hats on your crow tattoo. He honestly thinks it's really cool. There is no way he could sit in a chair for who knows how long as needles stab into his skin over and over again. But if he gets to keep drawing little hats on the crow, he's happy.

Overall, while this relationship took a lot of time to fully flourish, and a lot of trial and error, when this man is devoted to something, he is DEVOTED. This relationship he has with you is a once in a lifetime opportunity and he does not plan on messing this up.

[bethsteaclub]

Sexcation failed?

By popular demand I’m finally writing another blog post after something like 4 years? Where has the time gone!? A large part of why I haven’t been posting is being too lazy to post but also simply having too much to post about. Even back when I was posting here I had many things I knew I had to write about but new things kept happening on top of all that and things kind of got away from me. Yet here I am again trying to hop back on the horse ;)

Btw I won’t be editing this too closely so excuse me if I trip here and there. It’s the only way I’ll get these out.

I went to Mexico last summer (2022) with my boyfriend. It was a big trip for us which we planed out for a good year in advance. It was our baecation/sexcation which is a big deal for us since me and my bf aren’t super sexual out of the bedroom. We have great sex and I love him a lot but he really doesn’t know me. To him I’m a very wholesome, innocent, and nerdy person. Which I know some of you who know me are laughing at :D. I had a friend of mine call me a wholesome bimbo. I look and dress like a nice normal girl but really there’s a chance I had sex with at least 3 of the guys around us at some point. I also dress like a slut whenever I get the chance to.

This trips was me getting a chance to show my slutty side to him a little and we made it clear to each other that was the goal. No boring swimsuits with a t-shirt over it. Sex all day at the resort. He even called it “Honeymoon Sex”. Which is why I thought this is it. Between all that and this being a trip to a very nice romantic resort which we have been planing for a long time. I was sure he was going to ask me to marry him on this trip. I was very excited and looking forward to it.

I wanted to be married with kids by the time I was 25. But due to my life style and other things that never happened. I’m 30 now and I was 29 when I went on this trip so I saw it as it all finally coming together. As some of you might be able to figure out already…this is not what ended up happening.

We were going to stay for 2 weeks but due to work issues with my bf I was going to get there 3 days before him. I decided to treat this as my last few days of being a slut before I get asked to marry him. Just cut loose and go crazy. I knew if he was going to ask me to marry him it would be the day he lands because we were going to have a really nice dinner that night which he booked himself and played up as a big deal.

I packed my bags like a total slut. Other than my toiletries and essentials, I packed 3 bikinis, 2 shorts, 2 tops, and 2 butt plugs. One of which I was wearing there. I had room to spare in my small backpack. Like always fate decided to put me in front of a horny older man. He was my seat mate on the plane and I got in a fun mile high club in with him. He was very excited to see the butt plug I was wearing. :) It was a great start to the trip. Once I landed I got myself a cab to my resort. I made sure to give my driver some lip service as a tip before heading into my resort. Once I got to my room I showered, put on my bikini on and head out to the beach.

I was smart about who I would hook up with during these 3 days alone. I made sure to ask them when they were leaving the resort making sure they would be gone before or at least a day or two tops around when my bf arrives. Which I very quickly did not stick to. And so began the humping. Guests, waiters, room service. Tips for everyone. The morning of the second day I met an older man who was celebrating his 2nd divorce and was splurging on this trip. Lucky for me he was leaving the morning after my bf arrives so we hit it off. He was telling stranger I was his slutty daughter and getting them to hook up with me. To other he was saying I was his young trophy wife. It was a great 2 days.

Then my bf arrived. I was very satisfied and happy to see him. Ready to start my new life with him while saying good bye to my past life (for the most part lol). We had a great morning. I had sex with him the moment we got into our room. We went to the beach right after and I pretended to discover a very convenient spot for us to have sex there. (A spot I put to great use the 3 days prior). :P We were having a great time. Then came the dinner and I was so nervous and excited. I was so ready for everything! The restaurant was outside of our resort so we had to drive there. It was a beautiful, romantic restaurant.

We sit down and we order and things are going great. I’m sitting there waiting for it to happen at any minute. He goes to the washroom and I think OMG he’s going to take a knee and ask me when he comes back! But he comes back and sits down like nothing. Yet I’m still waiting. Then we finish eating and he asks for the bill. Yet I’m still waiting. It didn’t hit me until the car ride back that this might not be happening. But even then I thought, “He’s going to ask me in the room or take me somewhere at the resort.” We get back to our room and I ask him if he wants to hangout around the resort. He tells me he wants to have sex and hangout in bed.

To say I was upset at that would be an understatement. I kept my cool and asked him if he is considering marriage any time soon. He told me “I don’t really think I want to get married and if I do it probably won’t be for another 5 years.” To which I lost it. We had the biggest fight we ever had and I decided I was going to break up with him. I went straight to my new friend I made and had hate sex with him the whole night and walked him to the lobby the next morning. He was very sympathetic to my situation and left me in a sorrowful note.

I went back to my room and he wasn’t there. I changed into a bikini and hit the beach and spent most of the morning in a rage fuelled sex romp with everyone who was willing. Ended up in 3 different rooms  by 1pm before heading back to mine to clean up change and get something to eat. When I got back my bf was still there and we didn’t have much to say to each other. He asked me where I was all night and I told him “the beach”. I then went off on my own to get lunch. After lunch I ran into him where he told me we have a snorkelling trip the next day. Which I thought was a good thing because I decided to have sex with the instructor and maybe some of the people on our bus there.

The next day I put on one of my bikinis and nothing else to go on the day trip. I knew he was not happy about that. He’s ok with it at the resort but leaving the resort like that was not something he was comfortable with but he knew well enough to not say anything. We did not sit together on the bus. I was lucky enough to sit further back with 2 much older men. I sat next to an older guy but not much older than me. Would guys 35 and the other 2 over 45. I hit it off with the 3 of the fast and got to flirting. Told them my bf was on the trip too and that were fighting. How I’m going to break up with him when we get back home. I then got to work. Sucking and fucking all hunched over so my bf can’t see if he looked back.

I got 2 loads from them each before we got to our destination. One of the older guys had been on the trip before and said they split the groups up into 4 to 6 people per boat. So we agreed to be on the same boat with each other. One of them also agreed to take my bf to another boat if it seems like he wants to join ours. Luckily he didn’t need to do that. The 4 of us got on our own boat. I was now a little my shy between the bus and the boat. Kind of snapped back to where I was. There was also a guide and a captain but my 3 new friends helped me feel more comfortable. By the time the boat motor was on and we were hitting the waves I had my bikini bottoms to the side humping away, bikini top pulled down for the sun and the breeze and my mouth cleaning our guides cock which was salty from the salt water. It was an amazing time. I even forgot about my bf and my anger towards him for a little bit.

My bf was not happy with me when we got back. Told me it’s not safe for me to be alone on a boat with that many guys dressed the way I was. If he only knew everything we did. Yet we did forgive each other a little by this point. I stayed in our room that night because of that…and well having been swimming and gang banged on a boat all day. I was a little tired to go to one of my resort fuck buddies rooms that night. The next morning at breakfast is when I found out I had become an urban legend at our resort. Someone me and my bf were chatting with telling us there’s this pale slutty women going around the resort getting gang banged. I pretended to be shocked with my bf while actually feeling very proud of myself. By the way this isn’t the first time my adventures have made me into an urban legend. (A blog post for another time ;P).

My bf told me after to be carful and not go off alone since I’m pale too. He isn’t oblivious, I’m just very good at hiding my slutty side from people who I don’t want knowing about it. To my bf the person they are talking about being me is basically impossible. There is just no conceivable way it could be me. This gives me a lot of cover in general but especially for this trip. At this point I had still planed to break up with him when we got back home but we were on better terms at the resort. I ended up canceling all my out of resort trips letting him go on them alone. I spent most of my time missing him and working on my urban legend at the resort.

About 3  days later I ended up running into our room neighbour….an older man who was there with another friend of his in another room. These 2 really gave me the business on this trip. These 2 also lead me to the closest I ever got to being caught by my bf in my life. As the trip went on I still tried to be smart about things but cared less and less if my bf knew found out about me. This peaked one day I was in our neighbours room with his friend and 3 others. We were drunk, violently horny, and trashing the room having sex. The tv was face down on the ground, the mattress was flipped, and they were fucking my ass with a beer bottle full of beer as I butt chugged it. When the bottle was emptied they pulled it out and replaced it with a cock and then proceeded to throw and shatter the beer bottle against one wall while I got thrown and slammed against the other wall. They had me every which way possible. Eventually opening the front door and doing it with me in the hallway, and even on balcony. I was in pure ecstasy and loving every second of it.

It eventually started to die down and everyone left except the owner of the room and me. I was facedown on the ground with my bottom half in the room and my top half on the balcony. I then feel him drag me into the room by my foot and continue to have sex with me. I thought to myself this isn’t such a bad way to live. About 40 mins later he went to bed and I got dressed exited the room turned left and entered me and my bfs room to see my bf. I was too shocked to speak and couldn’t understand his tone because he was yelling. I realized he wasn’t yelling at me in anger but he was excited to tell me the urban legend girl was having sex in the room next to our and that I just missed her. It took me a second or two to piece it all together.

He told me he was there for about 2 hours and heard them fucking them whole time. How he could hear like 8 guys in there with her* (there were 5 guys). :) And that they were going crazy in there. Supposedly she left about an hour before I got in which is when everyone finished up and left me alone with our room neighbour. Me and the neighbour weren’t loud when we were alone so my bf assumed everyone left or that the neighbour was there alone. Yes, I am aware I got away with it hear on sheer dumb luck. I pretended to be shocked by all of it, asked a lot of random questions and acted like it was a shame I missed it. “Crazy how close she was huh?” I then passed out in bed from exhaustion of the whole day.

The next morning I was a little more anxious and carful after how things went the day prior. But I spent the rest of the trip pretty much doing the same thing. :D When we got back home I didn’t end up breaking up with my bf. I decided to give him the year to ask me to marry him. If he doesn’t then I break up with him. Aside from that I’m going to do my own thing and not think about him. I have one foot out the door now when it comes to me and him and I am enjoying things. The summer following this trip was a fruitful one. Easily the most sexually active summer of my life…or should I say so far? ;) It was also the last summer in my 20s. I turned 30 in December so I wanted to send off my 20s with a bang and ended up sending it off with quite a few bangs.

Looking back on this trip I get many mixed feelings. Some of it was amazing, and some of it was very sad. It was a trip I was forced to realize and accept a lot of things about myself. Over the 2 weeks I realized that this is probably not the person I will end up with and that being a sexual person brings me a lot of joy. 2023 is the year of being a slut. Butt plug in and leather pants on!

I am now going to go and find some dick because I am so horny after writing this!

[restapesta]

I'm begging you to consider writing high and dumb Mickey too 🤲🙏

Heyyyy Drish! Sorry for taking a while, hope this works :)

This is sort of just a part two of this fic here, but they're not connected in anything more but the high dumbed-out idiot part, just this time Mickey instead of Ian. Enjoy!

After Ian had asked, Veronica had given him the recipe for the brownies with the blandest of stares, an eye roll, and a simple, "You're gonna have to buy your own weed,"—he had accepted the piece of paper graciously with the widest of smiles.

It was an experiment, really. Just another one of his cooking endeavors that were bound to fail, but Ian was down to try out anyway. He needed to be careful, despite the fact he was making this specific recipe with newfound confidence after hours of secret YouTube binge-watching. Mickey did ban him from the kitchen, after all.

The latest meal he had attempted to make ended in a heap of smoke that wafted through the apartment and had unceremoniously triggered the fire alarm and awoken Mickey from the dead, prompting him to ban Ian from any place he could make food in.

Quite literally—Ian wasn't even allowed to make fucking coffee in the morning without his husband glaring at him and telling him to get the fuck out before he over-boiled the water and burned the place down.

"That's not even possible, Mick."

"Only you would even manage to do that, Ian,"

Even though Ian always rolled his eyes at him, he steered clear of the room, at least until he was sure he had their home to himself and that Mickey would in no way catch him playing with the pots and pans.

Like now, for example.

Mickey was out with Iggy—"gonna be out for forty minutes maybe, grab some beers"—which meant that Ian wouldn't be seeing his man for another couple hours when he walked into the apartment tipsy, horny, and one-hundred percent ready to crash. Ian had all the time in the world.

He placed the recipe down onto the pristine counter that he had scrubbed down along with his hands. Ian eyed the ingredients, gaze lingering on the bowl of green herbs in the faraway corner next to the flour.

He grinned.

This was going to be fun.

---

The brownies turned out better than Ian had expected. He'd only taken a small bite, not wanting to seem high out of his mind when Mickey came home and had hidden the perfectly shaped chocolate delights in the fridge, making sure to place them behind a bowl of salad wrapped up in cellophane. That was one of the only places Mickey wouldn't even glance towards while searching for a beer.

Or so Ian thought.

It wasn't Mickey's absence in bed that made Ian stir in his sleep and eventually pry open his eyes at four in the morning—no, it was the loud crash that so obviously came from the living room, followed subsequently by a roar of laughter from none other than the man that was supposed to be next to Ian in bed right now.

Even though Ian had an inkling feeling nobody had broken into their home and that nothing was there to endanger them, he still grabbed the baseball bat they had secured into their dresser. He gripped the wood between his palms and tentatively cracked open the bedroom door to peer into the hallway.

And, lo behold, the man-child was sitting on the floor next to the couch, mouth and fingers both smeared with chocolate as he stuffed the brownies Ian had made that day into his mouth. Ian let the baseball bat drop to the floor next to his feet which prompted Mickey to whip his head towards him like a deer caught in headlights.

There was a vase of flowers toppled over and Ian heaved a sigh of relief that the dirty water had been spilled on the tiles rather than the new expensive carpet they had splurged on.

"Mickey," Ian whispered into the dark, eyes pinned on his husband who was only illuminated by the glow from the kitchen's LED lights.

Mickey giggled, already shaking himself out of the shock.

"You had to get a midnight snack now, did ya'?" Crouching down next to Mickey, he watched him lick his fingers and wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand. "How'd you even find them?"

Mickey giggled again, and Ian silently scolded himself for getting the high-end weed that he did. It was strong, and although Mickey would probably be able to handle it in average doses, he did eat about five of the brownies if Ian's eyes didn't betray him.

He picked the pate up from Mickey's grasp, earning a whine in return, and walked to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

When he held it out for Mickey a minute later, the man just stared.

"Drink, Mickey." Ian prodded, slightly exasperated, and their eyes met.

Mickey grinned, and with a wide smile that morphed into a smirk, took the glass of water out of Ian's hand and drank it.

He finished with a loud sigh and then he placed the glass down next to him as he ran his eyes ever-so-slowly over Ian. They were glazed over but the blue was prominent, even in the dark.

"Hello, Mr. Milkovich," Mickey slurred as he took Ian in, who, in return, rolled his eyes.

"You're high as fuck, come on, let's get to bed."

Mickey shook his head. "You made those?"

Ian nodded, still down on his knees next to Mickey.

"They're good, but you remember you're banned from the kitchen, right?"

Ian shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mick—,"

"You do know," Mickey interrupted, eyes glinting with mischief. "I'm gonna have to punish you?"

And then Ian was being tackled down onto the floor, Mickey straddling his hips, palms spread across Ian's chest.

Ian released a ragged breath. "Why are you always so horny when you're high?"

In response, Mickey leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.

And then another to his jaw. Then to his neck.

"Mickey,"

"Wanna stop?"

Ian chuckled, "You're gonna fall asleep on me."

Mickey's eyes clouded before he laughed too loudly for this early in the morning—or maybe late at night.

He sat up straight and simply kept on sitting, ass on Ian's crotch, as he thought about something.

"So, you're not gonna move?"

Mickey kept on looking at the wall across from him. "I'm comfortable," He answered absentmindedly.

"On my dick?"

"Only yours."

Ian's chest swelled. He felt heat rush to his cheeks. "Shut up."

That was Mickey turned to look down at him. Their eyes met, Mickey's bleary yet serious. He said, softly, "I love it when you blush."

His back arched as he pressed a light kiss to Ian's cheekbone.

Ian sighed in content. "You too."

"No," Another kiss as Ian's arms went up around his neck. "You rarely blush, and when you do, you look so fucking cute."

Ian laughed. "The same could be said for you."

"Yes, but you look really cute. I just wanna kiss your face."

Ian blushed. "You're never this chatty when you're high."

"There you go again with the blushing." Mickey paused, then sighed, as if he had to do something now. "Guess you know what that means."

Before Ian could even ask what, Mickey was pressing kisses all over his face making him let out squeals and noises he would never admit to ever making in his entire life. He hoped that Mickey wouldn't remember them the next morning.

"Mick!" Ian let out another high-pitched whine as Mickey connected their lips with a smack.

Mickey pushed himself back. "Okay, I'm done." He looked at Ian's face, satisfied.

They simply stared at each other for a few moments.

"I really like you, you know?"

Ian's lips parted at the earnestness of Mickey's words.

"I like, really, really like you."

"I really, really like you too," Ian whispered back. Blinking away the slight wetness in his eyes, he breathed, "Come here,"

Mickey complied and they kissed slowly, Ian tasting the remnants of chocolate on Mickey's lips, and he wondered if he was getting high from the kiss or the weed.

When Mickey pulled back and licked his lips bashfully, Ian knew it was the latter.

Then Mickey's face broke into a yawn.

"Come on, Mick," Ian said smiling, panting still from the onslaught of unexpected affection. "Let's get to bed."

Mickey didn't seem to be listening. He simply stretched his legs back so he was laying on top of Ian who was still sprawled back on the floor.

"Mickey?"

His husband placed his hands on Ian's shoulders and nestled his head onto his chest, and once he was comfortable with the position, Ian watched him close his eyes.

"Mick?"

Only a snore followed.

"Fuuuuck."

With a light amused scoff and his head down on the warm carpeted floor, Ian placed an arm over Mickey's back, observed as he drooled over his T-shirt for a few seconds before he closed his eyes, and willed himself to sleep.

It didn't take long, the weight of his husband sending him blissfully inro unconsciousness.

[mellowswriting]

Helping Hand

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

summary ||  The clasps on bras should not be so fucking difficult. It’s a good thing Mando doesn’t mind lending you a helping hand.

word count || 4,873

warnings || SMUT! p in v sex, kinda rough tbh, desperate Mando, cockwarming, a singular spank, love confessions bc I am soft for this man 

a/n || this was uh...something! I firmly believe that Mandalorians waste zero time once they find their person. Once they have them, they have them. No such thing as rushing to a Mandalorian, especially our TinCanMan. also, this gif destroys me

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

The second you saw the bra as you perused the marketplace, your face lit up. The fabric was rich in color and ridiculously soft and you knew the second you had your hands on it that you were buying it. It wasn’t too expensive, a few credits more than what you’d usually be willing to pay for clothes, but hey, you deserved to splurge every now and then. You practically bounced with excitement as you made your way back to the Crest where Mando and the little green kiddo you adored waited for your return. It was nice to get some time to yourself, time where you didn’t have to chase after a rambunctious kid or have to squeeze past Mando’s huge frame in the small spaces of the Crest, but what could you say?

You missed your boys. 

The ramp lowered as you drew closer and you smiled. Mando must have seen you approaching. The sight of him standing in the cockpit with the sleeping child cradled in his arm made your chest bloom with happiness. You paused on your way to set your bag on your bunk, distracted by the uncomfortable looking angle he held his arm at, and let out a quiet laugh. Mando’s silent tendencies left you to observe the way he held himself to discern how he was feeling, and after months of living with him, you could gauge him easily by the tilt of his helmet, the way he held his shoulders. You may not be fluent in Mando’a, but you were fluent in your Mandalorian. 

“He wakes up the second you lay him down, huh?” You asked, a teasing smile on your face. The sharp way he looked to you only confirmed your suspicion and you bit your lip to hold back another chuckle. “Here, let me.”

The child didn’t even stir when you fluidly slipped him from Mando’s arms and slowly settled him into the metallic cradle he slept in. Mando sighed loudly behind you, the sound roughed slightly by the modulator. “How are you so good at that?”

“It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” You turned and almost knocked back into the cradle at the proximity of the beskar-clad warrior, a mere few inches between your chests. Heat flared across your face. “It’s just, uh… just lotsa practice.” 

Mando hummed quietly and you instinctively looked to his shoulders and his hands, trying to gauge his mood. They were relaxed, the tension he always carried about him eased for the moment. Content, if you had to guess. It made you smile up at him, brighter than any sun in the galaxy. There weren't many times you saw him without that ready-to-action tension that plagued his surely sore muscles - almost always when the three of you were in the Crest, safe together as you hurtled through space. He turned just as quickly as he had approached you, stepping out of your space to set the coordinates to Nevarro, and you felt like you could finally exhale. 

Bag in hand, you practically stumbled into your bunk and pulled out the pretty bra you were so excited to put on - inky black, accentuated with intricately designed lace and a harness-like back. You pulled off your clothes quickly, stripping down entirely bare to slip into a soft pair of sleeping shorts. It would take a while to get back to Nevarro; you might as well be comfortable for it. The process of undressing while the Crest drew away from solid ground used to have you half naked and on the ground from the jostling, but thankfully you had grown proficient at balancing yourself through the rough takeoffs. 

A quiet sigh escaped you at the brush of the luxurious cloth against your bare skin, deft fingers latching the clasps at your back. It was a welcome change to the usual bras you wore. The straps were a bit too loose, allowing the cups to droop slightly from your breasts, and you fumbled to tighten them. It was just out of your grasp, your fingers grappling uselessly for the elusive adjuster as you huffed in annoyance.

“Need a hand?” Mando’s voice behind you made you startle almost comically and whirl around, one hand pressed against your chest where your heart was battering against your ribs. How in the hell did he always manage to move so silently? Heat bloomed up your neck and across your face unbiddenly. Sure, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in some state of undress - living in such close quarters and the fact that Mando apparently never learned how to knock had him walking in on you often. But there was no denying the difference in you standing before him dressed practically in lingerie. 

“Uh, y-yeah, if you could?” You stuttered, internally groaning at your sudden inability to speak. The thick tension of the air could have choked you as you stared Mando down awkwardly until he twirled his finger, silently commanding you to turn around, and you could just die. “You just have to slide the, uh, adjuster up towards my shoulder.”

Mando said nothing and before you could move your hair out of his way, one gloved hand gathered it to settle over your shoulder and you had to tamp down on the shiver that tried to wriggle up your spine. He fiddled with the straps silently, leaving you to wrangle with your bordering on desperate need to climb the giant man behind you like a tree and lose yourself in the pleasures you could bring each other. 

You weren’t blind, nor were you stupid. Far from it, actually. Reading people was a gift you had possessed from a young age - one’s intent could easily be sussed by the specific light in their eyes, the slightest change in their tone, the barely-there shift in their body language. Mando may not speak often, you may not be able to watch for the arch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip, but you could still read him like a book. 

The fear of complication warred with your need. The child was a beacon of light in your life when you thought there could never be anything but swallowing darkness. He was a reminder of the little things that made everything else worth it - every coo, every small smile as he slept, every time he came running up to you or Mando on his little legs. Even when you were having to explain over and over again that no, he couldn’t eat the buttons off of the comlink, he brought you more joy than you could imagine. 

It didn’t help that every day spent flying through hyperspace left you growing closer to the Mandalorian. Even when there was nothing but silence between you, it was comfortable, companionable. The final straw? Mando slept in your presence. The first time it happened had been entirely accidental. He was exhausted after a strenuous bounty, one that ran far longer than they fought for, and the second the coordinates had been set, Mando collapsed into the pilot’s seat and promptly passed out. Knowing that he was comfortable enough to fall asleep without second thought, that he trusted you enough to be vulnerable like that around you...you never felt more like you belonged.

And Mando? When he woke several hours later, feeling far more well-rested than usual, he saw you curled up in the seat next to him with the child cradled in your lap as the blur of hyperspace reflected in your eyes. You had smiled at him, sleepy but bright nonetheless, and he had never been more grateful for the helmet that hid his face. You were too smart, too observant - you would be able to read the love on his face plain as day.

That little green womp rat and his beskar covered father saved you when you thought there was nothing left. The idea of losing that made you nauseous. The idea of how complete your little family would feel if you gave in made you tempted. 

It was complicated. 

A modulated grunt of frustration came from the man behind you as he couldn’t get a solid hold on that damn adjuster and you bit back a laugh. A Mandalorian, a warrior - bested by some plastic and fabric. Something fell to the ground, landed on the metal floor with two quiet thwaps, and before you could glance down to see what it was, warm bare fingers slid between the strap and your skin. This time there’s no stopping the almost violent shiver that racked your body, paired with an embarrassingly sharp exhale, and Maker your resolve was crumbling to pieces. 

“Tell me when.” Mando rumbled once his nimble fingers finally wrapped around the plastic, his modulator vibrating right in your ear in the most delicious way. The strap tightened slowly as his fingers slid up, the cup of the bra finally flush against your skin, and your voice was hoarse when you whispered ‘when’. 

Instead of simply reaching for the other strap, his warm palm made a lazy path across your skin, pausing for a breath between your shoulder blades before slipping under the thin fabric. He repeats the movement, tightening the strap until you clear your throat and manage to say in a stronger tone, “T-there is fine.” 

Mando hummed, his fingertips gliding over the soft skin of your shoulder and holy hell, his chest was practically pressed to your back and there was no way he wasn’t being a giant tease. “Just fine?”

“Perfect,” You corrected, your voice breathy, eyes threatening to flutter shut as that hand trailed over your shoulder to trace along the line of the cup of your bra. Goosebumps followed Mando’s touch, raised as your body’s desperate testament to the need that had vibrated through you. You just barely caught a glimpse of those tanned hands, hands you had seen a few times as he took care of the more delicate aspects of cleaning of his weapons, and you whispered, “You’re p-perfect.”

Mando gripped your hip suddenly, your soft flesh soft a beautiful contrast to his calloused hands, and it was the dip of his fingertips underneath the hem of your shorts that made you lean back into him fully, your head tilted back against his shoulder. A rumbled moan vibrated from his chest and into your back, felt all the way through his chestplate, as you “You want this, sweet girl?”

You nodded quickly. “H-how? How can we…”

“Leave it to me,” Mando murmured, preoccupied with the heat of your bare skin under his hands as he finally broke, finally explored the body of the woman he had fallen in love with in the months since his clan had expanded to three. “Just...tell me you want this. Please.”

Mando’s voice was rough and desperate even through the modulator and you nodded without a second thought. You knew you were in for it just from the way he pushed you further into your bunk to let the door slide shut behind him. No fanfare, no fuss. Mando was certain. He was going for what he wanted, and it lit a fire in you. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing as Mando methodically unclasped his armor, his visor trained on you with each piece that came off - and it hit you. This was actually happening. 

Finally. 

You grinned up at the t-shaped visor of his helmet and pulled him closer by the hem of his duraweave pants, his grunt of approval stoking the flames of your need. He pulled his shirt off fluidly and your hands froze where they were trying to undo his pants as you admired the sight of so much bare skin. 

“So handsome,” You whispered before kissing just below his navel, smiling into his skin at the way his hand buried in your hair. Mando hummed under your gentle touch, under the trail of your tongue against his skin. It had been so long, too long since he had any form of gentle touch, you knew that. Touch starved, that was the term. 

You would fix that. 

You trailed your hand over his ribs, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake when your nails scratched him lightly. Finally having your hands on him had you almost giddy, your heart flying in your chest as you slowly kissed down his stomach to the tent in his pants, nerves and need warring in your belly. You wanted to learn every piece of your Mandalorian - his scars and their stories, where to kiss when you wanted to hear those intoxicating groans, his favorite places for you to bite and dig your nails into. You wanted to break him in the best possible way, destroy that headstrong restraint and discipline so he could destroy you in return. 

All it took was a teasing press of your tongue against the outline of his cock to make him snatch you up off of the bed with a firm hand at your jaw and you couldn’t help but smile. His helmet tilted slightly as he took you in, grinning at him like the cat that got the canary, eyes sparkling with excitement, and he gripped your shorts with his other hand hard enough to pop the hem. 

“Off.” Mando rumbled and you immediately shimmied out of them as quickly as you could with his hand still holding your face firmly. The second the fabric no longer hindered his access, he ran his hand over your ass, greedy fingers digging into the firm flesh of one cheek. “Such a good listener. Aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You pressed closer as you nodded, desperate to feel his body against yours, and your eyes fell closed at the warmth of the skin to skin contact of your chest against his. As much as you loved the bra you wore, you wanted to feel nothing between you. It was easy to slip off and Mando’s hand instantly left your jaw to trace along your breast. It amazed you how gentle he could be; those big hands capable of incapacitating, capable of killing, gently palming your skin and tweaking your nipple. A breathy chuckle met your ears and only then did you realize you were arching up into his touch. 

“I won’t be gentle.” Mando warned. 

You grinned, heat shuddering down your spine at the roughness of his tone. “Who says I want you to be?”

You were on your back before you could even blink, the impact against the bed pulling a gasp from you. Mando made an image painted by the gods: stood over you, chest heaving with each harsh breath, cock straining proudly against his pants. That was the last thing you saw before his hand slapped against the light control on the wall and the entire bunk plunged into darkness. 

A hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you against a pair of firm thighs, forcing out a yelp that morphed into a low whine when your legs were spread wide. Without your vision to guide you, you had to rely on your hearing, your sense of touch, and the low clank of metal on metal and rustling of fabric had you confused until his warm, entirely naked body slid over yours and you heard the first tones of Mando’s voice - unmodulated, raw and low in your ear. 

“You need me, huh? You need this?” Mando growled, sliding down to grind his cock against you, and he grinned impishly at the desperation of your whimper, at the way you angled your hips to try to slide him inside of you. “Let me take what I want and I’ll give you what you need.” 

You could have cried out when he pulled back, could have begged him to stay and fuck you already, but the feeling of his lips latching onto your neck made your voice melt into unintelligible groans. You buried your hands in his hair, memorizing the soft way the curls fell through your fingers. The combination of his teeth and tongue were sure to leave a mark, one you would wear with pride for anyone to see. It was the first of many lovebites he left on your skin, trailed down your neck and over your chest and delivered between significantly gentler bites and licks to your breasts. Your hips moved entirely of their own volition, legs wrapped around his waist to rub against his stomach. 

Mando’s hands found your hips and pressed them down, pressing you flush to the bed hard enough that you knew you would have bruises, ones you would relish as long as they lasted. You had never felt more desperate to be touched, tension rocketing tighter and tighter in your core. 

“So needy, mesh’la.” Mando rumbled as he shoved you further up the bed. He delivered a sharp bite to your thigh and you jumped, a laugh bubbling up from your chest at the suddenness and the way he eased the mark with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair again and his chest rumbled, almost as if he were purring. Just as you were about to comment on it, tell him how cute it was that he reacted so beautifully to your touch, his tongue slid through your wet heat. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, the grip you had in his curls tightening harshly as you tried to roll your hips to grind against his face, but he pinned your hips with sure hands. Not to be hindered, you pressed your heels into his back and still managed tiny hitches and Mando chuckled at your determination. His tongue rolled over your clit, over and over until you were crying out at the sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.

His mouth left you for a split second, just long enough to slick his fingers with his spit, and his tongue descended back to your clit as two fingers rubbed tiny circles against your entrance. You were almost incoherent in your begging, your voice slurred, words cut off in the middle - and then two thick fingers slid into your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit, and you thought your heart stopped with the intensity of it all. 

After what could have been an eternity or a mere half second, Mando pumped his fingers slowly and your entire world imploded around you. The groan that left your lover was exhilarating. He mumbled against you, something about the tightest fucking cunt he’s ever had, before his tongue went back to town, flicking over your clit as his fingers curled into that sweet spot deep inside you. Your back arched of its own volition, your entire body tensing as Mando rocketed you to your climax.

“Can’t wait anymore.” Was the only warning you got before he pulled away, leaving you to flutter around nothing, and a high whine left your throat as Mando leaned over you and yanked your thighs up to hook further over his hips. His lips fell to yours and you groaned at the taste of your arousal, your hand cupping his jaw and reveling in the scratch of his stubble against your skin. The heavy weight of his cock pressed against your thigh until he angled himself to press right against your entrance, and - 

“Wait!” You gasped and Mando froze entirely. You reached between you to grasp his cock, groaning at the thick girth that you knew would split you open beautifully. “Let me... let me make you feel good, too.” 

“Won’t last, mesh’la,” Mando growled, his forehead pressed to yours as he fucked into your hand despite his words. For just a moment you thought you had him, had gained some modicum of control as you stroked him with a firm hand, but he batted your hand away to pin above your head. “Need to bury my cock in your tight little cunt.”

“P-please! I need it, I need you to fuck me full.” You mewled so prettily for him and Mando broke. 

The sound that left him was pulled from his very core, an almost feral growl radiating from his chest and leaving you shuddering underneath him, ready to beg until he finally shoved his cock into you, but before you could get a sound out you were flipped you onto all fours. You tried to steady yourself, to press your weight into your hands so you could grind your ass back against him, but a rough hand shoved between your shoulder blades until your face and chest were flush against the blankets beneath you. 

“You want me to claim this cunt?” Mando breathed into your ear as he settled his chest against your back, gliding the head of his cock through your slit teasingly. A dark chuckle followed your pitiful whine. “Oh I think I will. Stuff you full of my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Mando pulled back and steadied a hand at your hip, the other pulling your cheeks apart as he finally slid home. Inch after devastating inch filled your cunt, the familiar stretch on just the right side of painful. A sinful, wrecked groan came from behind you and despite yourself, despite being face down ass up for a warrior, you felt powerful. 

“S-so fucking tight,” Mando stuttered out as he gave a small push forward, pressing even further into your heat despite being buried to the hilt already, short, aborted thrusts as he tried to let you adjust to his girth. 

“Please, please, please,” You huffed out with each exhale, and if you were in your right mind you might have been at least slightly embarrassed by the desperation of your begging, but you were aching for him to move. You clenched around him, reveling in the punched-out sound it drew from him, and finally, finally he drew back halfway to shove back into you sharply. 

Mando didn’t fuck you - the word ‘fuck’ wasn’t enought to encompass the way he drove into you over and over, shoved you further into the sheets with his teeth buried in your shoulder. You wanted to be destroyed, and Maker did he deliver, pressed against that sweet spot deep inside you and making your writhe beneath him. It took a moment to find your voice amongst the harsh thrusts, but the sound of you whimpering ‘Mando…’ over and over had your lover delivering a sharp swat to your ass before yanking you up by your hair and bracing your ass on his thighs, his pace unfaltering. 

“S-such a sweet little thing,” Mando stuttered, one hand holding you by your neck, keeping you flush against him, and the other sliding down to toy with your clit, those calloused fingers rubbing in tight circles until you pressed your head to his shoulder and wailed. “Sound so pretty for me.”

You wanted to tell him how good he felt stretching you out, how much you loved this, how much you loved him, but there was no speaking when his thrusts punched the very air from your lungs. So you buried your hand in his hair and tightened, rolling your hips into every push of his own. The sharp pull of his hair seemed to egg him on and his hand slid up from your throat to tilt your head and capture your lips with his. 

The angle was awkward, the kiss all teeth and tongue, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mando drank in your every moan, every whine, and sang out his own in response, poured them out in a never ending stream that left you washed out in pleasure and pride. You reduced him to this. The tight clench of your cunt around him left the strong warrior slashed down to his most base instincts, left him to bury himself in you over and over as if he couldn’t bear to hold back. 

Your begging was almost incoherent, words broken off halfway with each harsh thrust, but it all melted into one low cry when Mando toyed with your clit and ground against that sweet spot against you and you broke. The only thing that kept you upright was Mando’s strong grip on your body as your pleasure crested, sparked out all across your body and left you weak in the aftermath of ecstasy. Your hand fell loose in his hair, still tangled in his curls but just barely staying put. 

Mando laid you down almost sweetly, flipped your weak body around to lie on your back and settled between your thighs. He growled low in your ear when you hooked your ankles over his lower back and whined so prettily for him as he pushed himself deep into your cunt - right where he belonged. His thrusts were shorter, stunted in his relentless chase for release inside of your body, leaving you hanging in the precipice between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Feel so good,” You whispered in his ear, gasping when he buried his face in your neck and latched onto your skin with rough presses of teeth and tongue. The pace of his thrusts stuttered when you clenched around him, urging him to let go.

“Where?” Mando grunted low into your skin, unable to find the words to finish his thoughts but you knew. You knew what he wanted, the desperate want you both shared.

“Inside!” You gasped out in a rough voice, almost desperate in tone, and locked your legs around his waist tighter, using the newfound leverage to meet each of his thrusts. “Please, please cum inside me.”

The choked off sound in your ear was downright addictive and paired with the airtight grip on your hips as he pressed flush against your body and flooded you with his release....well, you wouldn’t be able to live without it, without him. Mando collapsed, crushed you underneath his weight with his cock still nestled in your tight heat. Maker, he was heavy but you never felt safer. He panted in your ear, the ghost of each breath curling across your skin like a loving caress and you could feel the curve of his lips where he smiled against you, a smile you matched. 

Your fingers buried in his hair once more, scratching against his scalp in slow, gentle circles, and the delighted whimper he gave sounded like it came from anyone but the rough and tumble warrior who just railed you into oblivion. One of his hands writhed up between your chests to cup your breast, the gun-calloused skin of his palm a harsh contrast to the soft, unmarred skin of your chest. 

“Mando…” You chuckled in a tone of warning when those fingers tweaked your nipple, sending sparks echoing across your skin. 

“Din,” He grunted in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and worrying it with his tongue, only pulling back when you made a small noise of confusion. “Din Djarin. You should know the name of the man who claims you.”

Your heart stuttered, racing to match the pace of your thoughts. This...this was a huge deal for him, you knew that. Your arms tightened around him almost of their own volition as it hit you - this union meant as much to him as it did to you. 

Mando - Din was yours. 

You were his. 

“Cyare,” Din whispered at the small noise that left you, propping himself up on his elbows to hover over you despite not being able to see you. You followed his movements as best you could, not wanting to jostle around enough for his softening cock to slip from your body.  “Are you okay? Was...Was this not-”

“No! No, I...damn it,” You stumbled over your words in your rush to reassure him, reaching up to hesitantly place your hands on either side of his face, giving him plenty of time to stop you in case you crossed a line. He didn’t. Rough stubble met your fingers and you laughed wetly in disbelief. You couldn’t believe your luck. “I love you. I have from the start.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat and he pressed his face back into your neck as he returned the sentiment, his words muffled and cracking under the weight they carried. You giggled at the way his tongue met your neck, surely adding to the multitude of marks he already left there, but tilted your head back for more access nonetheless. He was right - he laid his claim on you, buried his seed as deep inside you as he could and left the imprint of his teeth across your skin for all to see. 

“A clan of three, right?” You said before kissing his temple, yours eyes slipping closed as your exhausted reared. 

“Yes, sweet girl. A clan of three.” Din rumbled. The vibration of his chest only lulled you further into slumber and the last thing you heard before the sleep overtook you was Din whispering, almost to himself, “My own little aliit.”

[scxrlettwxtches]

a life with you | hwang hyunjin

genre: assassin au, epilogue(?), inspired by @chaninfused​ “row, row, row your boat” universe

description: when you have doubts about your future with hyunjin, the assassin is more than happy to reassure you that all he wanted was to be with you. 

word count: 2.8k+

a/n: i am officially a month late and terribly sorry, furat dear. TT happy (very belated) birthday to you! thank you so much for screaming with me about hyunjin, rrryb, and everything else in between. most of all, thank you for being such a dear friend. <3 i really hope you enjoy!

For the first time since Hyunjin became your friend, your confidante, and then your darling, doubts about your relationship began to fester into gnarly thorns, sitting in the deep recesses of your heart. 

It didn't have anything to do with your love for Hyunjin. On the contrary, your love for the man was stronger than ever, built upon a bond of trust and deep care for one another. Hyunjin had stood by your side through the highs and the lows, just as you had watched him discover what it means to love someone, watched him discover that he himself was capable of being loved. 

No, your doubt stemmed from an instinctual fear that the two of you were simply not compatible because you would never be able to assimilate into the lifestyle he grew up in. 

You thought you could do it, at first. After all, what's so hard about being well off? What's so hard about being able to splurge a little extra money on your clothes, your food, your overall lifestyle? 

You quickly learned that noble life wasn't quite as simple as that. 

For one thing, it was overwhelming to the highest degree. Ever since you agreed to attend the banquet with Hyunjin as his significant other, you'd been thrust into an endless cycle of dress fittings, shoe fittings, and practically any other type of fitting that exists. The party itself was also an overstimulation of all your senses; there was so much to see, so much to comprehend and hear and say that it all just got a bit too much for poor you.

So that was why you were here alone, standing on an empty balcony to find some fresh air, some quiet, and some peace. The wind felt nice against your skin in comparison to the stuffy rooms and banquet halls, and you couldn't help but wonder guiltily if you could head home by yourself. You didn't want to bother Hyunjin, of course, who was born noble and was probably enjoying himself. 

“Oh, thank goodness, I've finally found you!” 

As if the stars had heard you, Hyunjin stepped out into the balcony, his expression wrought with relief as he made his way towards you, taking your hands in his. 

As you gazed upon him, those long lashes, those soft lips, and above all, those gentle eyes that held nothing but love, affection, and concern as he studied your face, you found yourself once again falling deeper in love with him, as if that was even possible. 

“Why did you abandon me in there?” The assassin almost whined, and you fought back a smile as you rubbed your thumbs against the back of his hands.

“I just needed some air, and you seemed preoccupied,” you explained, ducking your head slightly as Hyunjin shrugged off his long coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“But you didn't need to escape so quickly without telling me,” he argued like a petulant child when his eyes suddenly flashed with a sharpness that you hadn't seen in a while, “Unless...did something happen?” 

Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his ridiculously fine-tuned awareness. 

You shook your head, running your hand up and down his arm, “Nothing happened,” you smiled soothingly. 

“But you look unhappy,” he insisted, cupping your cheek with his gentle hands, worry filling his dark brown irises, “My darling, please tell me what is wrong.” 

Inside, Hyunjin was panicking. He knew you better than he knew himself, and he knew the look of uncertainty on your face when he saw it. Were you beginning to have second thoughts about him? Was being with him becoming more of a burden than a blessing to you? Was the constant little weight in his coat pocket something that he’ll have to throw away soon?

Logically, Hyunjin was almost sure that any of those possibilities weren't true. You loved him, and you loved him dearly. The two of you have been through thick and thin together, and he knew your love for him was as deep as the darkest oceans and as pure as the sunrise sky. But yet, the coil of doubt could not totally recede from his mind. After all, you were always so much more than he could ever dare ask for. 

“Hyunjin,” you spoke softly, your smile so knowing that the assassin felt more at ease just at the sound of your voice, “Relax.”

“So something is wrong, my love?” 

You sighed, cursing at Hyunjin’s endearingly insistent nature. Hyunjin was a fixer at heart. Whatever was bothering him, whatever was bothering the people he loved, he was proactive about finding a solution. He’d go to the ends of the earth to find one if need be, which was what he did for your precious daughter all that time ago. 

But this, this wasn’t a problem that you were sure he could fix.

“I don’t know if this is going to work, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin had never experienced such physical heartache until this very moment. His eyes widened with alarm, a terror that he could hardly keep clamped down, but ever the gentleman, he waited for you to finish before interjecting.

“I know you were so eager to introduce me into this world, to give me luxury that I didn’t experience before, but truthfully, I don’t enjoy this lifestyle,” you confessed, gesturing to the ballroom where the party was still ongoing, where the lords and ladies chatted and drank the night away, “It’s stifling for me, Hyunjin. But this is your life, and I don’t want to take that away from you--”

You found your answer in the searing kiss that closed the gap between his lips and yours. Hyunjin’s kisses were passionate, palettes of red and orange that swept you off your feet time and time again, but they weren’t all consuming. His fire was warm, homely, loving, and you quickly found yourself wondering why you had any doubts in the first place.

“Is that what was worrying you?” He murmured, pulling away with bright eyes as he brushed the hair away from your face, “That I wouldn't want to leave this life for you?” 

“Oh, I didn't doubt that you'd leave if that was what I truly wanted,” you assured him, your hands resting against his chest as he listened intently to every word you said, “And that worried me. I don't want to make you choose between me and your life here.” 

Hyunjin shook his head, brushing your cheek with his gentle, yet calloused fingers, “You've got it all wrong, my darling,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours for a short moment before pulling away, “Come with me?” 

Confused, excited and only slightly worried, you followed him wordlessly, placing your safety in his hands without question, as you've always done. Hyunjin led you back inside the estate, but not back towards the party that you were so obviously trying to avoid. Instead, he took you somewhere the music seemed to blend into the peaceful silence and where the mindless chatter faded  into nothingness. 

"Am I even allowed to be here?" You were pretty sure you had no need to whisper, but you still found yourself doing it. 

“I'm allowed, so you're allowed by association,” Hyunjin said with a smile, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face as he laced your fingers together, tugging you down the hallway until he stopped at a particular room. 

“Miss?” He bowed dramatically, making you giggle as he opened the door, pulling you in. 

You looked around the space, a quaint little thing with a small office desk and a simple bed, but everything was clearly expensive and high quality. Even though most of the design and decor was quite minimal, there were little touches like the choice of wooden, the scent of the candle, the distinct stuffed animal that you remembered was once Nari’s. It all just screamed Hyunjin.

“Is this your room?” You asked with a soft laugh, brushing your fingers against the wooden surface of his drawer before picking up the small stuffed bear.

“Yes. I didn't need much space, and I'm not here often, so I just took one of the smaller guest rooms,” Hyunjin chuckled before turning and seeing you with the familiar stuffed animal in your hands. His expression morphed into one of nostalgic happiness at the memory of someone that meant the world to him and pain at the reminder of his own failure, “Oh, that was one of Nari's stuffies.”

“I remember,” you found yourself smiling sadly, lost in the memories as you squeezed the stuffed animal gently. 

Hyunjin walked over, eyes distant as he gently placed his hand on it's head, “Wherever I used to watch over Nari while you ran errands, she always wanted me to play with this stuffed animal in particular,” he chuckled softly, “I always want to have a part of her in my life, so I held onto it. I hope that's alright with you.” 

Your eyes watered as you gazed up at the man who you loved unconditionally. Such a gentle soul, a person who'd treasure all that were close to him, a man who had such a natural instinct to nurture and care for others. 

“Of course, it's alright,” you smiled, placing the stuffed animal down, “I-it's more than alright. She always loved it when you came around to see her.” 

Hyunjin chuckled, wiping the corner of your eye with a delicate swipe of his finger before gently guiding you to his desk, “Close your eyes, my darling.”

“Why?” You raised a suspicious eyebrow as your hip leaned against the desk and Hyunjin stood before you. 

“Because!” His lips curled into a pout, “I have a surprise for you.” 

“You better not have bought me another shawl, darling. I don't mind that the last one got a small tear in it,” you berated him preemptively, worried that Hyunjin had fallen back into his habit of overly indulging you for the sake of making you happy. 

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled, and you wondered briefly if he was the only person who seemed to enjoy being nagged at, “Just close your eyes, darling. Please?”

Oh, he wasn’t playing fair anymore, not as he flashed those irresistible puppy eyes, and you could do little more than let your eyes flutter shut. You felt his hands take yours, guiding you to open your hands with your palm facing upward. Giddy with anxiety, your confusion was palpable as you felt a featherlight weight fall into your hands.

“Alright, open.”

When you opened your eyes, you could barely hide your puzzled expression as you inspected the piece of paper that Hyunjin placed in your hands. Unfolding it, you scanned through the contents to get to the chase and then--

The paper fell to the ground as you let out an audible gasp, whipping your head up to glance at your lover. It was his sheepish, excited and slightly anxious expression that truly made it real to you.

“Was that a good gasp or a bad gasp?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“It’s…” you swallowed, still trying to sort through the plethora of emotions that were clouding your mind, “it’s real.”

Hyunjin couldn’t fight his smile, realizing that he’d made you speechless for one of the first times in his life, “It is, darling.”

“B-but, it’s right in that secluded area outside of town, the place that I always--” you spun around to face Hyunjin, utterly dumbfounded, “How did you know?”

The assassin laughed, picking up the deed which you had rather unceremoniously dropped on the floor, “We were taking the carriage back to your bakery once, and I noticed the way you looked at the cottages in that area. Plus, you mentioned once that you’d want to live a simple and secluded life, and this location fit your description quite perfectly. It’s nothing really--”

Your lips pressed against his as you shut him up with a sweet kiss, cupping his cheeks and holding him close, “I love you,” you murmured without an ounce of hesitation as you pulled away from Hyunjin, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

Hyunjin looked dazed, utterly lovestruck as he gazed into your eyes, pulling you towards him as he sat on the edge of his desk, “Do you like it?” He asked softly, playing with your fingers and making you smile. Oh, Hyunjin, always so eager to please, so eager to do things right for you, to make your life easier. You wondered how you ever deserved such a lover. 

“I do,” you smiled softly, looking down at your hands.

“It’s a small cottage, but it has enough space for us and...more...if that situation ever arises,” Hyunjin’s ears seemed to redden, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he was so gently insinuating. 

“I love it,” you whispered, watching as your fingers laced together. 

Hyunjin’s eyes brightened, “You do?”

“I do,” you smiled at his eagerness, “Do you? Do you want this life? I won’t fault you at all if you do not--”

“Oh, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured, gazing into your eyes as you drowned in his loving gaze, his bottomless affections for you that gave you the butterflies even after so long, “When will you realize that I want nothing more than to live a quiet, simple life with you? When will you realize that some of my most treasured moments were with you and Nari in your cramped little bakery? All I've ever wanted was to find a nice, quaint little location that wasn't too far from the town, and for us to grow old there together…”

Your eyes welled with unshed tears as you brought his hand to your lips, kissing it gingerly, “That’s all I want, too,” you confessed, “I want to live quietly and happily with you, put our suffering behind us…”

Hyunjin was silent for a moment before he tugged you towards him, “If that’s what we both want,” he trailed off, red dusting his cheeks as he looked down, “would you like to get married?” 

It wasn’t a sudden proposal. Hyunjin and you had vaguely mulled over the idea for months now, especially since it was becoming increasingly clearer that the two of you loved no one but each other. But to hear those direct words falling from his lips, with no lighthearted quips or jabs to deflect the sincerity of it, it utterly floored you.

The assassin took your silence for doubt, and he looked back up at you with shining eyes, “I know you had bad experiences with your past marriage. My line of work isn’t exactly stable either. But, Y/N, I’ll spend my life showing you that a future with me will be worth your while. Would you,” he swallowed nervously, “would you let me do just that, my darling?”

“Oh, darling,” you murmured, reaching forward and cupping his cheek with your hand. He leaned into it almost desperately, “You have nothing to prove, nothing to show. We’re equals in this relationship,” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes and gently pecking him on the nose, “And yes, I’d love to marry you, Hyunjin.”

The childlike sparkle in his eyes made you giggle as you watched him physically process your words. Slight confusion, then disbelief, then awe. 

“Really?! Oh, my love, I’m so happy!” Hyunjin lifted you in his arms, spinning you around as you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. When he placed you down, he fumbled around in his back pocket, eyes wide, “I-I can’t believe I forgot this! We were having such a soft moment and the question just slipped out of my mouth--”

Giggles burst from your lips as Hyunjin finally managed to pull out a black velvet box, revealing a small, simple, yet priceless diamond ring. It was so undeniably Hyunjin to get so caught up in proposing that he’d forget to present the engagement ring to you, and you found the two of you chuckling about it up until he gingerly slipping the silver band onto your third finger.

“Oh, I do have a request from Jisung, who wants to be present at the wedding,” Hyunjin said when the two of you were finally curled up in his bed, embracing each other’s warmth.

“I’d be happy to invite him,” you chuckled, looking down at your finger and at the glimmering stone that now rested on it, “It’s beautiful, by the way. The ring.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair, “I passed a jewelry shop when I was running some errands for your bakery, and it just reminded me so much of you,” he said, brushing his fingers across is, “Elegant and beautiful.”

“Such a flatterer,” you complained to hide the heat in your cheeks.

“Oh, no no. There will be much more of that now that we’re engaged,” Hyunjin teased, tickling your waist, “I hope you’re prepared.”

And you were prepared, alright. All of the trials, tribulations, and the joys of marriage, you were ready for all of it as long as Hyunjin was by your side.

fin.

[princecameronlovedacommoner]

all i can think of right now is topper finding out about rafe and barry being fuck buddies and him getting all protective and rafe trying to convince him barry’s chill

Okay so this turned out pretty fluffy hehe Or at least it’s a super fluffy ending. I hope you like it and thank you for your prompt!!! :)

(Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts, hospitalization, and rehab for an addiction)

A few tough topics in the characters’ pasts but I swear it’s a nice happy ending for everyone!

“Sooo, this is the new place, huh?” Topper eyed each corner of the screened in patio carefully, as if he were expecting a terrible surprise if he sat down in the wrong place.

Rafe couldn’t exactly blame him for that. He had found a few needles in the couch cushions once upon a time, before he’d moved in permanently and cleaned the place up. But Barry didn’t deal with the hardcore shit anymore and customers weren’t always lingering all over the place now that there was a legal storefront where they could pick up their weed then take it home to smoke.

“Home sweet home.” Rafe confirmed, tossing Topper a beer when he finally settled on a place to sit down. “Like what I did with the furniture out here? Now these couches match the one in the living room.”

Topper nodded with a thoughtful hum. “Sugar Daddy let you splurge a little on the remodeling?” He questioned and Rafe rolled his eyes.

“Shut up. He’s not my sugar daddy. We’re getting married.”

Topper hadn’t opened his drink yet, even as Rafe was downing his own, perched contently on the armrest next to his best friend and just looking like he was at ease with the world.

That was a look Topper had never seen on Rafe, but still, he wasn’t going to just give this guy his blessing without making him work a little first. He’d heard some troubling stories about Rafe’s knight in not so shiny armor, and he felt it was his responsibility to look out for his buddy, since Ward Cameron obviously wouldn’t.

“You look…happy?” Topper tried to sound convincing, like he actually bought the idea already that Rafe was making the right call with this guy.

“You sound surprised.” Rafe raised a brow, setting his beer aside and wiping a line of foam from his mouth. “Look, man, I know it’s not figure eight worthy or anything but it’ll grow on you.”

“Rafe.” Topper ran his hands over his face.

“It’s not the scum on the siding is it?” Rafe asked. “Barry’s uncle’s supposed to come and power wash that before the wedding.”

“No, no, the house isn’t the problem, man.” Topper met Rafe’s eyes again, gathering the courage to ask him some harder questions. “I’m worried about you being with this dude.” He confessed. “I know he sells pot in town now, but he used to be a coke dealer right?”

Rafe scrunched up his nose. “Used to be doesn’t mean he is now.” He huffed defensively. “I used to be an addict. Now I’m not. And Barry changed a lot for me…”

“Didn’t he get you addicted in the first place?”

“So fucking what?” Rafe growled, doing his best to remember the breathing techniques that were supposed to help him settle in moments of frustration and anger. “He got clean when I did.” He told Topper, fists slowly beginning to unclench at his sides. “And if it wasn’t for him, I’d still be a mess in the head. You know he was the one who finally took me to talk to somebody, right? Ward didn’t do shit besides throw a few checks to the rehab place…Barry was there for me, man. When I went in, when I got home. He really got me through everything. Even now he always keeps up with my appointments, reminds me to take my pills and all that.”

Topper felt a bit guilty now. He’d just assumed that it had been Ward who finally caved and started paying attention to Rafe’s problems.

That is what a father would do, after all. Eventually. Hopefully. But in Rafe’s case, apparently his “father” hadn’t come through. His fiancé had.

“Did he uh…Did he take you to the hospital that one night?” Topper inquired. He tried to keep the memories of that particular evening to a minimum. It scared him even now, thinking of Rafe in the worst state he’d ever been in, storming out of his house with a gun and shouting about putting himself out of his own misery. He’d claimed it would be the best thing for them all.

It wouldn’t have been and Topper knew it even then, but while his words hadn’t been enough to stop Rafe that night, this new guy’s supposedly had.

Topper called Rafe’s phone a million times after he’d left and finally the next morning he’d gotten a text back.

“Rafe’s fine. Took him to ER. They keepin him for a few days.”

Topper had this confirmed himself, hurrying to the hospital and asking after his best friend, almost sobbing and tears ready to pour down his face as he panicked to the nurse at the front desk of the psychiatric ward.

“Mr. Cameron is safe and that is all I can tell you for now.”

Normally Topper would argue for more information but the knowledge alone that Rafe was still breathing was plenty to put his mind at ease.

At least it was until Rafe disappeared for a long time after that.

Topper had gotten one phone call and this time it was Rafe himself, just after getting out of the hospital three days after the incident.

“Listen, I’m going away for a bit.” He’d told Topper. “If Dad asks, tell him I’m fine. I’ve got a um…a friend…with me. He’s gonna take me to Dallas. There’s a rehab program there that’s supposed to be good.”

Topper remembers feeling relieved and fearful at the same time, happy for his friend that he was finally getting some help but wondering who on earth he’d gotten mixed up with that was taking him all the way to Texas.

“Tell your friend to take care of you, alright, man?” He’d pleaded with Rafe. “Stay safe, bud. We’ll celebrate when you come back.”

“For sure.” Rafe hadn’t sounded very hopeful then but now, Topper saw a completely different person when he looked at his best friend.

He was happy, peaceful, finally able to live his life without fear of Ward’s tyranny…and he was getting married soon. To a guy that Topper still hadn’t met, but that had done a lot for Rafe.

When the front door to the trailer opened and shut and footsteps could be heard walking through the living room, Topper wasn’t sure whether he wanted to try to be as thankful or as intimidating as possible.

“Yo, baby!” A thickly accented voice called once the man it belonged to reached the kitchen to grab a drink for himself out of the fridge. “You home? Where’s your little friend, huh? Thought we was grabbin’ somethin’ to eat!”

“Out here!” Rafe answered, smiling even before his fiancé came to stand in the doorway of the patio.

He looked like quite a rough character, and in fact…Topper recognized him.

“You!?” He let the demand for an explanation fall straight from his dropped jaw.

“Yeah, me.” Barry snorted, setting the beer he was carrying aside and holding his arms out for Rafe. “Where’s my welcome home kisses, sweet thang. Come here and let me squeeze you a little.” He pulled Rafe into his arms and held him tight, kissing against his neck and then pressing one gentle peck to his lips. “Thought I told you not to go gettin any prettier while I was gone.” He grinned, and Rafe just looked so…in love? Topper couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Hey tone it down in front of Top, babe. Alright?” Rafe was blushing and unable to hide the fond little grin he wore once Barry sat him back down. “He’s a little squirmy about this kinda thing.”

Barry turned to look at Topper, eyes scanning the younger man up and down before he nodded his approval. “You the one that calls in to check on Country Club all the time, ain’t ya?” He asked.

Topper nodded. “He’s my best friend.” He confirmed to Barry. “Just wanna be sure he’s doing alright still.”

Barry gave Topper a friendly smile then and whacked him on the back in a brotherly manner. “You alright, man. We’ll get along just fine…Baby Cakes? You take your medicine this mornin’ after I left?” His full attention was back on Rafe, sitting back on the nearest couch and pulling his fiancé down onto his lap to hug on him.

Alright. This was good. Topper was convinced that he could be friends with Barry.

Maybe Rafe had better taste in men than he’d once thought.

[writing-in-april]

Paint me

Laurent LeClaire x Female Reader

Summary: Reader finally has enough money to splurge on getting herself painted for the first time in her life. When she meets her painter, Laurent, she wonders whether she got more than what she bargained for.

A/N: Hello everyone- sorry this ones out a bit late tonight- I had practice and had to finish up a few things on this one after. This is my tenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April- can’t believe we’re 1/3 through 🙈If y’all have ever seen In Secret you know what scene inspired this fic asdjksdj lol 😂 also @propertyofabelmorales fic from Valentine’s Day also inspired me 🥰 I low key probably spent more time on this than necessary considering he isn’t a very popular character but I couldn’t help myself 😅 In secret was actually the first movie (that wasn’t Star Wars) that I saw Oscar Isaac in so Laurent low key has my heart- even with his murderous tendencies 😂 I always love hearing from my followers so feel free to drop an ask or request here. Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy.

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Reader is fearful of Laurent, Reader thinks Laurent might kill her, Dubcon, Oral sex (F receiving), Unprotected sex, Creampie- if any other warnings need to be added let me know

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.2K

Being painted was an important status symbol in this life. To have your image captured for all to see, put down on canvas by paint from a brush was a way of showing off beauty to the people around you, and the people that came after.

You were elated to have your image captured on canvas for the first time, finally able to afford it on your own. A rare sight in the world that you lived in to see a woman able to pay the fee of having her portrait painted.

Such a rare sight it was that when you had chosen a painter and contacted him he had almost seemed confused. When he had asked if you had a husband you had snorted turning up your nose to then tell him no. It was not that you did not want any sort of romantic touch, but being tied down to someone for years that would probably not cherish you the way you deserved sickened you. So, with no one around to pressure you into an arranged marriage you remained unmarried.

The painter you had hired, Laurent, was sweet as honey, almost to a sickly degree. The charm had remained even after he had realized that you were alone, basically a spinster. Whether or not he kept up the act because he thought it would be easier to get underneath your skirts or because he truly did not mind an independent woman did not matter to you. You would only let your gaze linger over while he painted you, that was all. He was here to paint you, nothing more.

He had positioned you in a chair to sit in a simple position. His reasoning for that he told you was that the simpler the position, the easier it was for your beauty to shine. Painters had a way with words though, so you tried not to let your heart swell from the compliment.

You let yourself stare in each session as he began to lay out the foundation of your likeness. Each time you sat in the chair time ticked by slowly, inch by inch. It was not as if you minded as it let you look upon how his inky curls shone in the dim lighting, plus every other part your eyes were allowed access to. It was only fair in your book, considering his job was to stare at you.

This session you were in now seemed different to the others; he seemed more distant. While you both stared at the other not a single word was exchanged, only the brush on canvas got to speak today with each stroke.

It was harder to concentrate this time on staying as still as possible. You ached to move your legs over, just a bit to the side. Daring to test the waters, hoping he would not notice, your legs twitched a little over to the right.

For a while he continued to say nothing, painting with ease like he had completely missed the twitch in your legs. That was until he decided to speak for the first time in hours,

“No-“ His face twisted, morphing into a look tinged with darkness. It was this first sign of displeasure you had heard from your hours of sitting as if you had a rod in your spine. Dipping his brush back into his paints again to find his desired color was a much more rushed action than before. It was an annoyed and quick movement, trying to swiftly correct the mistake you had assumed he had made. When he returned his brush where it belonged on his canvas it scraped along it as he pushed the paint along, molding it into his image.

Another moment goes by silently and with no more words of displeasure; you begin to relax into your position again. It was already hard to relax fully while his eyes flitted from your body to his canvas; your nerves only raised higher after his outward sign of displeasure. He scrutinized every angle and curve as his eye took in every inch of you to create an accurate portrait of you. You wondered if in his fee there was an understanding that he would paint you in the highest light possible. Though, truth be told it was foolish to question that. What type of painter would he be if he displeased his clients by being honest in his paintings?

It was in his job description to lie. Painters depicted the beauty they saw and made it shine, even if that meant trying to find beauty in the darkest of corners to forcefully shed a light on them. All it took was a painter of proper skill, a canvas, and of course a set of paints. Any unwilling features that tried to fight their painters lies would be forcefully bent to their will, almost like a king, and all with a simple stroke to canvas. No, you weren’t ugly, but you accepted that it was his job to bend the truth to his will.

The darkness you had briefly observed reappeared on his face once more. He tried to be quiet in his frustration, but his whisper could not contain the anger brewing beneath. Truthfully his words were a far cry from a whisper, it was more of a shout, “It is not right!”

Naturally you wanted to question what had made the painter suddenly rise with anger, though you wisely kept your mouth shut tight. You did not know this man, nor did you know what he could be capable of underneath the sweet words. The darkness that brewed glinted in his eyes as he took his brush to canvas again, this time with more venom in his strokes.

You were not going to trust the honeyed words he had spoken to you, at least not now while you saw how the honey could possibly be sour. Even though honey never turned acrid in common knowledge, the sight before you disproved that. Each new brush against his canvas turned violent, almost as if he’d push through the canvas with how much force he was using and create a hole.

You could have left the room in a hurry, or even demanded him leave. After all, it was you that employed him. Watching honey that soured so quick intrigued you, so the rod stayed in your spine, though you knew it was naive of you. You couldn’t trust his words, but you could still listen to them.

Brush after brush splattered paint onto the canvas in front of him that you could not view. His once dexterous movements had devolved into a man you did not know, not that you truly knew him beforehand either. You couldn’t imagine he was painting anything close to your likeness; you highly doubted long irritated strokes would be good for each of your contours and curves.

Clattering noises filled the air of the room you were both trapped in, one trapped by his job and one trapped by curiosity. You hoped the curiosity didn’t kill you like the cat. He had kicked the easel that held the painting he was being paid for, which had caused the clattering. Gripping the paintbrush in his hand with fury he then separated it from the canvas and began to pace.

As he paced your mind wandered further; it was all it could do while it was stuck observing the man before you spiral. You wondered if he had forgotten your presence, even if he had been painting you- and you had even been doubting that.

Clearly he hadn’t forgotten about you as he suddenly stopped his pacing, slowly turning to face you again. His gaze no longer flitted between two things calling his attention, now fully focused on you, still with that rod in your spine.

“It is you.” He spoke with a deadly bite and you could not help but have your bottom lip wobble at his accusation. Racking your brain you tried to find why you were the one that was the source of his wrath and why you were the one that was about to receive it. “You are not in the right position.”

You wanted to protest, saying that you had not moved a muscle since he had placed you in this exact position with your spine rigid in a chair. The protest became stuck in your throat, no doubt because of the fear you now held for the darkness that brewed underneath. You remained stoically silent, rigid as ever, waiting for him to mold you into the position that he wanted you in.

He twirled his paintbrush in his hand absentmindedly while he thought. You did not know what he was pondering, though you had to guess it had something to do with fixing how you were positioned. He answered your own curious thoughts by confirming them, “You need to relax.”

Relaxing, that was hard enough earlier when you had not had fear put in you. Still, you tried to let go of the tension held tightly in your shoulders forcefully just as he did whenever he forced your features to look their best in his painting.

He then sighed, obviously displeased with your effort. Instead of letting you try again he simply gave you an order to ‘stay still’ while he began to approach you with his paintbrush in hand.

As the paintbrush approached you instead of the canvas you could not help but tremble as it came closer. It was not any sort of weapon that could do you any harm; it would take a lot to hurt someone with a paintbrush. Still, you quivered as it approached, perhaps more because of the gaze that was transfixed on you.

Laurent’s gaze was wild, a hint of madness was evident in his eyes. They were two dark pools of almost black fixed upon you as if they were set on devouring you in the oblivion in their depths. Eyes were said to be the window to the soul and Laurent did little to make you doubt that claim. He did not give you soothing words as he saw you tremble beneath his daunting gaze and the slowly approaching bristles of the paintbrush, still partially coated in the color he had last been using. Instead of giving you the soothing words you may have desired the paintbrush crept closer, like it was stalking you in the night just as the obsidian pools he called eyes.

Your quivers were not solely because of the glint of madness you could see, hiding in the depths of his eyes. It would be a lie to say that all your quivers and shivers were rooted in the fear as to what he might do to you if you dared move from the position he had placed you in hours beforehand. Something else akin to desire had found itself at home run in through your veins, unburdened by the worries of what the black pools might be hiding in their abyss.

That feeling, the one that was running through your veins in spite of the lingering fear, was soon guiding your body. You were no longer staying rigid in your position out of fear; you wanted him to touch you, even if only with the tips of his brush.

He knelt down when close enough to then reach to lift up your skirts. You were scarcely breathing now, still afraid yet intrigued as to what a man could do with a simple paint brush. Opening your legs up at the approach of his paintbrush would have been indecent to some, but you could not help yourself. Biting your lip hard enough to possibly draw blood was so you did not move into his touch, letting him come to you as you did not want to incite his wrath. You wanted him to touch you with it, despite that fear of those black pools staring fiercely at you.

The soft bristles finally grazed the inner flesh of your thigh, a small tickle running through the nerves connected to the spot it touched. You could’ve been fooled into thinking that it had been the brush of his hand if your own eyes hadn’t been fixated upon him.

You moved your position just a hair, maybe even smaller than the ones on the paintbrush used to move you.

“There.” His whisper breathless, now devoid of the darkness that had stifled any sweetness.

You ached to hear him say it again, it was not a praise for you in the strictest sense. He had been simply readjusting you, hardly any room or need for any praise. The way he had whispered it along with the whisper of the brush upon your skin made it feel like he was praising you. Before you knew what was happening or considered the consequences you chased the brush he had begun to pull back with your thighs.

The darkness quickly came back on his face when he had noticed you had moved to chase his touch. He began to bark out a command to put you back in your place, even though he was the painter, and you, the client. “Sit ba-“

“Brush me again.” Your plea was too beautiful for him to let it go unanswered, even though you had cut him off. There no doubt was still lingering fear inside you, afraid of what he might do in retaliation.

He surprisingly obliged you, you could see his curiosity meld with the darkness in him. He lifted your skirts again, holding the brush just above the spot where he had touched moments before.

When he brushed the inner flesh of your thigh again, the pressure was harder, less unsure.

That simple touch made you moan, even though he wasn’t touching any spot that normally might bring you pleasure. It was as if a dark shadow had cascaded across his face to blur your perception of who he probably was underneath it all. If it wasn’t for your curiosity and your simple desire you would have thought more critically about his next request.

“Take off your dress.” Like someone without a thought you stripped it off of you in haste, as did he with his own clothes.

In no time at all it seemed, his mouth had enveloped your own, keen on devouring all you had to offer. He picked you up with ease by the tops of your now naked thighs so he could lower you to the floor. He then allowed himself to nip and suck on any section of skin he desired to put his mouth on. Not that you could reciprocate as he had your hands held above your head.

When his fingers started to dance along the tops of your thighs just as the brush had done you instinctively pushed your thighs together. The action was quickly reversed by Laurent releasing your hands to push your thighs apart, giving him an unobstructed view of your entrance.

His mouth was soon swiftly on the places that brought you pleasure, sucking your pearl into his mouth like a sweet.

You wanted to writhe underneath him out of sheer pleasure, but he did not need to bind you to make you immobile. That fear still lingering in your mind kept your body still, even as he combined his mouth with his fingers by pushing them into your entrance.

“There?” He whispered as he crooked them upwards, trying to find the spot that would make you see stars. It wasn’t quite right though, so you shook your head side to side. You didn’t dare to speak, not that you could do anything more but making unintelligible moans of pleasure.

“There.” He whispered with finality when he hit that somewhat spongy spot inside you making you cry out louder than before. It was so nice to hear him say those words again, honeyed words that tasted so sweet even though they were tainted by darkness. Your release shot through you quickly, like an arrow sent to kill you.

He removed his fingers from you when you were finished with your first release of the night, wasting no time to push himself inside you. He was larger than any other man you had been with, stretching you blissfully and almost painfully. You were lucky he was not too cruel to not let you adjust to his size, but as soon as you had he unleashed himself upon you. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and let him thrust into you at a brutal pace. The sounds of skin slapping on skin were so loud they almost over took the moans you were emitting along with his grunts.

When his hand came to wrap around your neck your own mortality became evident to you. Early before you had succumbed to his touch with a simple brush, you had been afraid he might harm you, even with the desire pumping through your blood. You had not even thought of beyond a simple bruise or cut to your flesh by him. His hand around your throat while he thrusted into you made you wonder how much it would take for him to squeeze until your lips turned blue.

Desire one again took over your fear, his hand around your neck combined with the sweet nothings whispered in your ear made you fall apart again. It was a slow devastating release like honey dripping off a spoon languidly until it dropped down to sweeten the pot. Even though his own honey had turned sour, he still was fully capable of making people feel sweetness while shrouded in darkness.

He filled you soon after you had finished your own release with a grunt. Neither of you had any real care to be able to give to the possible consequences of him filling you. He rolled off of you and you were glad in the moment he didn’t crush you under his weight like most men would have done.

Silence seemed to be a staple item that constantly wormed its way in between the two of you. No one spoke for a while, truthfully it might have been an hour. Laurent was the first to break it again, with much less malice than before,

“Do you want me to continue to paint you?” He whispered into your skin as he continued to pepper his plush lips across your skin. Glancing up towards the easel that still faced the canvas away from you and then over to the bare man next to you helped aid you in your decision. You could let him leave with wasted paints, wasted canvas, and wasted potential.

The wasted potential was what stopped you from letting him paint the rest of the angles of your body. Pondering what could come of the painting, and your relationship with the man who had just made you see stars while simultaneously making you fear or your life at the same time made you frown. The possibilities were endless, but those two black pools hid something too interesting for you to ignore. You wanted to know more, even ached for it.

“Yes.” You simply replied and you then willingly fell into the abyss.

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith — grr tumblr is still being stupid

People who might be interested 🤷‍♀️: @propertyofabelmorales @sergeantkane @foxilayde

[talesofsonicasura]

Emmet and Digimon!Reader: Broken People

I thought you folks would love a nice change of pace from the sudden splurge of Sun Wukong related content. The onslaught mainly stems from Season 3 finally being accessible in English Dub and that Sun Wukong Appreciation came out of nowhere for me. I was able to prepare for Mermay but not this. 😑

Like the title says, this will be focusing on our Subway Bosses specifically Emmet at the moment. We all know this man will throw with gods especially when it involves his twin brother Ingo. So... let's go him a little extra help. As for what Digimon you'll be...hehehe. Can be read gender neutral or preferred gender.

You've all sorts of individuals the moment you were born into this Digital World. Humans, Digimon and various fauna from every realm. Whether good or bad, your blade judged many to see if they were allowed to live.

It was your job to protect the balance of the Digital World that served as your home. To slay the threats which threaten the peace, blade and cannon in hand. Keyword being 'was'.

One day your free will had been stripped from you to bring out your 'true potential'. It was soon given back but it left every part of you broken. To heal in a void and never be the same again.

A tragedy well known for Digimon of the Omnimon Line, a member of their kin who fell so viciously it lead them to becoming a broken monster. Omnimon Zwart Defeat, the fate that you met long long ago.

So imagine your surprise to find unfamiliar faces inside your little 'domain.' A human with a comedy mask smile alongside two creatures that clearly weren't Digimon: a violet chandelier and a limbed eel.

Clearly none of them came by their own volition but something about their presence felt wrong. You might as well investigate cause no one can enter this pocket dimension without permission.

"I am Emmet! AND I DON'T THINK THAT'S A POKEMON!" Check off from a different dimension and not Digimon off the list. Considering your species look like reapers, the human being terrified was normal.

The two 'Pokemon' were already on edge but you made your neutral stance known. 'Won't attack unless in self defense' basically. Once the signs of no hostility was clear, answers were able to be acquired.

The human, Emmet runs a subway station with his twin brother. Both offering special battles on their locomotive alongside their respective Pokemon: Elecktross and Chandelure.

That is until Ingo strangely disappeared one day. Twins are like Terriermon and Lopmon. Neither leave the other unattended without any kind of notice and to do so is suspicious. For a long while after you became what you are, you were very sensitive to certain things. Mainly distortions involving time and space.

Something that prickled like cactus spines once one occurs. A very constant feeling for the past year. Emmet and his acquaintances confirmed your suspicions. The delicate balance between reality is being meddled with.

A matter that once wouldn't have concerned you after falling. Not even self preservation would spark a light. No one needs assistance from a broken weapon, this void being nothing but a bolted sheathe.

But this human named Emmet... He had something in common with a shattered Digimon like you. The two of you were broken in some way. While you were irreparable, Emmet wasn't. Not yet at least.

His brother no doubt still alive. A family looking desperately for him. Didn't know whether it was sympathy or pity that drove this action is unknown.

What you did know is that Emmet will be the first person you will help after so long. The Digital World didn't need nor want you thus being absent is no concern. Guess the time came for this fallen Royal Knight to depart.

Next stop? The unknown source of this madness. And for once not alone as three new companions join you. Although they might have to restrain you once the culprit is found. There is no remorse when it comes to deleting the guilty.

And that's it! I originally planned on using Plutomon for this but I thought Omnimon Zwart Defeat fitted better. For those of you not familiar with Digimon, Omnimon is a Digimon that's an actual fusion between two different Digimon: MetalGarurumon and WarGreymon.

This variation of Omnimon is one who has been corrupted and damaged so badly that they became a threat to all around them. A being broken beyond comprehension and unable to return to their former glory.

Emmet and Ingo are very close to each other. I can imagine neither of them taking it well if one of them goes missing. Something that a lot of people like to portray when it comes to Emmet's side. Mainly him not taking it healthily and doing whatever he can to fix it.

This fitting well enough that Digimon Reader sympathetically decided to help him. It's a platonic found family type of headcanon. Any romantic ones involving Digimon are gonna have rules set on a different page, not here.

Until next time folks, I'll see you back on the train station between worlds. This is Omnimon Zwart Defeat.

[marvelslut16]

Oblivious

Prompt number: 18 “you don’t see it?”

Fandom: Saturday night live? Pete Davidson?

Paring: Pete Davidson x reader 

Rating: T

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: An asshole cheater. Mentions of Ariana Grande (yes that’s a warning- don’t come for me). Swearing. Mentions of slight sexting- just mentions boobs nothing graphic. Mentions rehab. Slightly angsty ends fluffy.

A/N: So I broke my one rule and wrote for an actual person. Pete Davidson is precious and doesn’t deserve the hate he gets. I was also almost hella basic because I was so close to titling this the king of Staten Island. Anywho, the cheating scum part of this story happened to me and I immediately thought Pete would never do this to me- so I wrote this lmao. I think my love for the Knicks seeped into this story a bit. 

You had been talking to a guy for close to three months now. You thought he was charming, and sweet, and he was built like a god! You’re friends were a little weary, none more than Pete, when you admitted you hadn’t met up with the man yet. Their faces would go from being happy for you to pitting you instantly. But you knew you weren’t being catfished, you video called with Henry multiple times a week. While Henry wasn’t your first choice, he never would be, you were starting to see a future with him. 

But that vision went to shit with one simple text. You had gotten a new bra, maroon and lacy, and boy did it make the girls look good! Feeling a little flirty in your new bra, you texted a picture to Henry to be a little tease while he was at work. Almost instantly you got a text back, and it read; ‘shit baby, you’re tits are way better than my girlfriends!’ with multiple heart eye and drooling emojis to follow. 

You had never felt more embarrassed in your life! And that’s saying something considering Pete makes jokes about you on SNL and in his standup routines, all approved by you beforehand of course. You had met Pete years ago, while he was scrawnier than he is now, had a lot less tattoos, and right when he was just starting SNL. You had bumped into him on the sidewalk while trying to catch a cab in the pouring rain, you expected to be yelled at with a thick New York accent for what felt like the millionth time that day, but it never came. Instead Pete hailed the cab for you but not before exchanging numbers and promising to show you around since you had just moved to the city for college. 

After showing you around the next day, you were surprised when he continued to text you for the next month. To pay him back for his generosity you took him to see a Knicks game, lucky for you your dormmate had a fight with her boyfriend so she sold the tickets to you for dirt cheap. The seats weren’t great, all the way up in the nosebleed section, but you were in Madison Square Garden watching the Knicks! Pete was pleasantly surprised by you when you could name the players and you actually knew how the game was played, unlike girls he had dated. Of course before you left the arena you had to splurge and got yourself a Carmelo Anthony jersey! 

Many years and Knicks games later you’re still friends with Pete. You’d call him your best friend, but you know Colson is his even if he claims it’s you when you’ve asked in the past. You’d be by Pete’s side every time he admitted himself into rehab- making sure you were there to pick him up when he got out. You had been there to pick up the pieces after Ariana- hell you were picking them up when they were still together. You were beside him every time he got bullied off his social media by stupid haters or little Ariana stans after they broke up. He made sure to be at your graduation, and he was there to rant to when you had a bad day at work. Pete was there to hold your hand when you got your first tattoo, which he wanted to pick out for you but you refused. Pete was there to pick up your pieces when a guy hurt you, like right now. 

You’re in his basement, curled into his right side, his right arm slung securely over your shoulder, his fingertips making soothing trails up and down your arm. You had convinced him to watch an old episode of SNL- before he was on it, but new enough that Kate McKinnon and Bill Hader were on it together. You snuggle further into his warm side and let out a content sigh. 

“You were too good for him, (Y/N/N),” Pete finally brings up the elephant in the room. You had hoped that watching an episode of SNL would put the ‘you deserve better than him, he’s just scum,’ talk Pete gives you every time you go through a break up.

“If I was too good for him, then I’d still be with him,” you murmur a line from the movie clueless into his baby pink sweatshirt covered chest. 

“None of these guys deserved you, (Y/N/N),” Pete says sternly, you roll your eyes not in the mood for him to tell you how amazing you are but not make a move on you, yet again.

“Pete, stop,” you pull away from his chest, his arm falling off you as you scoot to the front of the cushion. “I really don’t want to have this conversation again, no matter how many times you tell me I still won’t believe you. I should get going, don’t want to miss the last ferry back to the city.”

“(Y/N), please, wait,” Pete’s skinny fingers wrap around your wrist as you stand and go to walk towards the door. “We just ordered pizza, just stay the night.”

“I can’t Pete,” you whisper, staring down at your sock covered feet, you had gotten Pete to take better care of his hardwood floors by convincing him to have a no shoe policy. “Give some pizza to your mom and your sister.”

“You’re off tomorrow, you originally planned on staying,” if you didn’t know any better you’d say his voice was laced with hurt and disappointment. “Why won’t you stay now?”

“I can’t keep doing this Pete,” loud laughing coming from the studio audience on the now forgotten episode of SNL only seems to be mocking you and your feelings. “Every time you tell me how amazing I am and you don’t- it’s just hard to believe when no one seems to agree with the sentiment.” 

“You don’t see it?” his voice is soft, he stands from his seat, getting momentarily stuck in the blanket that was draped over your laps. “You really don’t see it,” this time it’s not a question, it’s a statement. 

“See what Pete?” he lets go of your wrist to spin you around to face him. 

“That I’m in love with you,” his eyes shine in sincerity, but they aren’t what you’re focusing on. “That I have been since that first Knicks game!”

“You don’t love me,” your voice shakes as you stare at the heart that was once Ariana’s bunny ears peaking out above his left ear. You reach up and gently trace your finger over the heart. “You’ve dated models, and movie stars. You were engaged to Ariana, even after you knew she didn’t want us to be friends. Because she didn’t trust me. You didn’t love me Pete, you chose her, and yet I was still there to pick up the pieces after you ignored me for months, because I love you. Because I didn’t care how much I was hurting, I knew I had to be there to make you feel better, to be able to see your smile again.”

“I was settling for Ariana!” he grabs your cheeks so you can’t look away. “I thought I could get her to warm up to you, I’ve never wanted you out of my life (Y/N)! You were with Eric at the time, it hurt like hell to see you that happy with someone that wasn’t me! So I proposed to Ariana because Eric bragged that he had a ring for you! But then you guys broke up and I couldn’t just break up with her right after I proposed.”

“Eric did propose, I said no and broke it off,” you smile sadly. “He, like Ariana, didn’t want us to spend time together, so I dumped him. All of the guys eventually realize they’re second to you, so they either break up with me or ask me not to see you anymore. And I was selfish every single time, I hurt them so I could be happy with you in my life.” 

“Fine, you want the truth?” Pete asks, and you nod. “It wasn’t the Knicks game. I knew I wanted to date you that night. But the first time I knew I loved you was when you came with my mom to pick me up from rehab the first time after we were. You didn’t run far away from me, you still wanted to be around me and you put up with my shit. Everyone leaves when I go to rehab, they think I’m too much to handle.”

“Well I don’t! I never have Pete!” you’re crying by now. 

“I know! Fuck, you’re too damn perfect for me (Y/N). I convinced myself for so long you were too good for me, that you couldn’t love me,” you don’t know how to verbally respond, so you do the first thing that comes to your mind. 

You grab the back of Pete’s neck and pull him into a kiss, it’s all teeth and tongue. The passion sends jolts of electricity through your body, a wave of giddiness rolls over you as you realize that this is really happening. You’re really kissing Pete, he really loves you too. As the kiss continues it becomes slower and more gentle, both of you want this feeling to last as long as it can. When you finally pull back, lungs burning and desperately in need of air, the feeling of his lips linger on yours. 

“I do love you, (Y/N/N). There’s never really been anyone else,” he caresses your cheek and gently brushes his lips on your forehead. 

“I love you too Pete,” you lean in for a peck, which he quickly deepens. You pull away giggling, “so much.”

Permeant tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​