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#i'm finally free of whatever brain rot they had over me
share-the-damn-bed · 1 year
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JONATHAN & MIKE || then and now
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natlovesls2 · 5 months
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Hand Warmers
Lando x Fem!Reader
*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: swearing, mentions of boobs and touching them, super short, no use of y/n, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), images used are not mine as are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors (its late and I have brain rot from little sleep)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 0.6k
*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: its cold and Landos hands need to be warmed
.ೃ࿐request: Can you do a lando x reader
where reader doesn’t want to let go of his hand but she need to open something with both (or whatever you can think of) and she put his hand on top of her boob and something like that ??
Please if you have the time
*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: Feel free to let me know if something is wrong or weird. Also feel free to request something
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˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘
Lando had been holding your hand hostage the whole day, refusing to let go despite the inconvenience. As the day progressed, his hold on your hand tightened. It was impossible to escape his hold, even as you ate your lunch, having to beg to be let go to use the bathroom. His only excuse was the freezing temperature, claiming that your hands were warmer than his and you had to help him warm up.
⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹
The cold winter weather had taken over your apartment despite having closed the door immediately after waking in. It was more frigid than the average year, and the abundance of layers did nothing to keep you warm as you lay on the couch cuddled with your boyfriend. “I think we should turn the heater on.”
“I don’t want to get up; this is comfortable, plus your hands are warm,” Lando grumbled into the side of your neck, pulling you closer to himself to prevent you from leaving. 
“Don’t."
“What? I’m not doing anything. We can warm each other up. I don’t want to let you go,” his hold on your hands tightened, placing a few kisses on your neck, snuggling closer to you.
While Lando had always been clingy, more so during the cold winter days, this was a new extreme. His cold hands firmly gripped your own, a continued desperate attempt to keep you from leaving his side. "I promise to come back once the heater is turned on."
"Promise?"
"Pinky promise," you reassure him, feeling his grip loosen, and finally, you break free. You could feel his eyes on you, closely watching as you walked to the heater and turned it on. He was skeptical about the promise you had made. The way his eyes followed your every move proved that. 
"You're taking too long," he complained, voice whiny as he sat up in his spot, grabby hands reaching out in your direction. The slower you walked back to him, the more childlike he became. His pout only increased as he realized you were purposefully taking your time.
"You're being mean," he continued to whine, only stopping when you finally sat next to him again, hands immediately grabbing your own. He briefly let go of your hand to turn on the television, quickly grabbing and kissing them. 
"Don't you think you've held my hand enough?"
"No, I think I've held your hand for too little," he says, slightly pouting again, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your lips. This was always his tactic for getting what he wanted. The constant pouting and occasional kisses were well-known to you. It was almost expected from him, especially when things weren't going exactly the way he wanted them to. 
"Let go, Lando," you said, refusing to fall victim to his ploy– knowing that if you allowed him to get away with this, he would only use it against you. 
"Noooo," he said, voice high and whiny, squeezing your hand tighter, peppering your face with kisses, gently stroking your hands. 
"It's getting warmer in here," you struggle against him, letting out a sigh of relief as he finally lets go of your hands. This was a victory in your eyes, though you knew it would be a short-lived victory– Lando being a very persistent person. 
"I'm still cold," he says after a few minutes, resting his hand on your waist. 
“You’re annoying,” you say, moving his hands under your shirt and placing them on your breasts, shivering at the freezing touch, “You're fucking freezing.”
“Yeah, but I'm definitely getting warmer,” he gently squeezes your boobs, stealing their warmth for himself. 
"At my expense," you say, your body beginning to relax as Lando's hands warmed themselves between your breasts and bra. 
"You're the one who offered," he continues to softly but firmly massage and squeeze them, "I think these might be the best hand warmers."
˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ ✧ ˚ ༘
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Free use with the bachelors
Content warning: free use, degradation, praise, afab reader, mommy kink in sam's, pet play kink in sam's and Sebastian's, breeding kink in Alex's, cock warming, whore behavior honestly man don't say I didn't warn you, as always MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT lol I'm not responsible for what you may subject yourself to on the internet but I don't wanna be responsible for your brain rot 💙
Shane:
Man's a whore for free use, especially with you
Loves just coming up behind you while your doing the dishes or any farm chore and just placing kisses on your neck, trailing a hand down your pants to trace light circles over your clit
One hand on your neck, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy
Bends you over the nearest surface, flips your skirt up and starts fingering your cunt while you whine for more
"Shhhhh babygirl I know, little slut wants more hmm?"
After he's decided you've had enough of his fingers he'll unzip his shorts and shove his cock to the hilt with no warning, loves the surprised gasp/moan that you let out
"That's it, take it like the good little whore I know you are"
Pulls your hands behind your back for more leverage to have you meet his harsh thrusts
Will stuff you full of his cum multiple times a day, pulls your panties back up so they catch whatever drips out of you, makes you keep the same pair on all day to remind you of who stuffed you so full
Elliott:
Also big into free use, he just loves how whiny you can be when he decides to start teasing you
Gentle touches ghosting over your nipples and clit, applying just enough pressure to have you needing more
Has you cockwarming him while he works on his book, occasionally taking breaks to swirl circles over your clit while he grinds up into you, never enough to make you cum, just enough to keep you desperate for him
When he's decided you've been so good for him that he should reward you he whisks you off to the bed
"You've been so good for me today darling, let me make you feel good now"
Gentle thrusts into your overstimulated cunt, deep passionate kisses, his fingers working your clit all quickly becomes to much
Has you cumming around his cock in minutes, babbling out praises and thanks
Loves seeing you in such an undone state beneath him
Sam:
Absolutely down, please walk up behind this man and start stroking his cock
Melts into you when he feels you wrap your arms around him, sighing in pleasure when your hand wraps around the base of him
Trys not to let his knees buckle when you run your thumb over his sensitive tip, spreading the beaded precum for a bit of extra lube
He's whining, babbling, pleading for you to go faster, give him more friction please
"Fuck, please mommy, I'll do anything, I'll be such a good boy for you please just go faster fuck"
Who are you to deny your cute puppy when he's literally begging for it?
You tighten your grip slightly and speed up, he's cumming over your hand moments later but that doesn't stop you
Now he's whining in overstimulation, gasping for air while he grabs the counter to stop himself from falling
Tears run down his face as he feels you finally slowing down and letting go
"Such a good puppy for me baby boy, now clean up the mess you made"
Will lick his cum off the floor, would do anything to please you
Sebastian:
Loves free use honestly
Your in the middle of a boss battle in your video game when he comes up behind you and starts feeling you up, gently shifting you into his lap
"Don't mind me kitten, just keep playing" he mumbles in your ear as he teases your nipples through your shirt
You can feel his boner pressing into your ass as he shifts around gently rutting into you while you try and stay focused
Eventually he pulls down your pants and presses his cock into your tight hole, rubbing your clit while you whine on his cock
You have to put the controller down and he pins you to the beanbag chair, ass in the air so he can thrust harder into you
"Fuck kitten, always so ready for my cock hmm? Practically drooling for it right now"
Wants to hear all the sounds you make so he grabs a fistful of your hair to haul back so your face is off the chair
Makes sure you cum before he fills you to the brim
Harvey:
This man is nothing if not horny for you 24/7 so free use is good
Lots of discussion beforehand because he's anxious he'll go to far
Comes up to you while your in the bath, strips down and joins you
Pulls you against his chest, gently pulls your legs over his so he can keep your legs spread
Thumb gliding over your clit while two fingers pump in and out of your cunt
Other hand working diligently on one of your nipples
His mouth is slotted against yours, swallowing all the sounds you make
Slips his fingers out and gently slides his cock into your sensitive cunt, still swirling soft circles on your clit while you whine against his lips
"That's it sweetheart, being such a good girl for me hmm?"
Loves when you melt against him, knows your close to cumming by how airy and close together your whimpers are
Works you through your orgasm and into his own with gentle thrusts and soft praises
Alex:
He doesn't fully get the premise but he does love the idea of being able to have you whenever and where ever he wants
That's mostly in the house and in the bedroom because he wouldn't want to be caught in a compromising position
He's got your legs on his shoulders, his cock driving in and out of your cunt at a moderate pace, this is the third time today he's stuffing you full of his cum
The idea of filling you to the brim and breeding you is just always on his mind
Man wants you round and plump with his seed and by God he's gonna have it if you'll let him
"Shit baby, gonna look so fuckin good all round with my seed yeah? Gonna let me knock you up right? Know you want it just as bad as I do baby"
Can hardly think straight, he just needs to pump you full of his cum, needs to have you pregnant with his kid, tits full and heavy with milk
Has you cumming around his cock in moments with how overstimulated you are and how he rubs endless circles on your clit relentlessly
Cums inside you with a final harsh thrust and stays there for a moment, plugging his cum inside you
Pulls out and watches for a moment while his seed spills back out before fingering it back into you
"Can't have any of this going to waste can we love?"
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xoxoamyas · 6 months
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Christmas Surprise <3
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rating : fluff, reader gets called petnames [ darling, love, dear ]
king!wilbur x royalty!gn!reader [ use of you/yours, no name mentioned ] [ married wilbur and reader ]
☆ . wilbur decides it's finally time to give you a surprise with a long-awaited gift. all the while, sweet shenanigans ensure between you two. <3
note : if i don't get this out now, i never will. consider it my christmas gift/special from me to you. i really wanted to do a royalty type thing, and this was made, i hope you enjoy it [ i may make more king!wilbur in the future, i've been brain rotting over him for a minute ]
masterlist [ ☆ ]
⋆˙⟡
“Oh, darling~,” the familiar voice calls for you, the door to the main bedroom opening. The man you loved to bits and pieces peaking around the door with a wide grin like a kid who just got handed candy.
“Oh no, what are you up to now?” You ask, closing the book you had propped open in your lap, gently setting it to the side.
“Nothing you need to worry about, love.” Wilbur moves with practised ease, hands behind his back as he steps to your side of the bed. Holding a hand out in offering to you, which you warily take.
He makes you laugh when he lightly pulls you up, carefully holding your hand up as his other arm moves to be around your waist and pull you closer. You use him mostly for stability, your free hand moving to his upper arm before his shoulder.
“What do you want, Wil?” You ask as he takes lead in a little dancing, lightly stepping you both in a circle.
“Am I not allowed to love you, my dear?” He's being extra cheesy, it seems, him twirling you around and moving to lightly hold both his arms around your waist. Pulling you close and giving you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck, which you take.
“You are, it's just very sudden.” You lightly laugh, moving to gently press your forehead against his own. Wilbur carefully swayed you both in the same spot for a long moment, content to remain like that for an eternity, even.
“I have something for you, my love.” Wilbur suddenly breaks the silence, quickly pressing a kiss to your nose before letting you go. Hands moving to hold your own with a grin once more. “You need to close your eyes, though. It's a surprise.”
“Wil..” There's a caution to your tone, Wilbur being fairly.. Well, while his surprises were usually sweet, they weren't always thought out. A guard had once nearly lost his hand, many maids had fallen over midst putting things in a room together, the list could go on.
“Don't look at me like that. I swear it's all been planned this time. No lives were lost, and egos were saved in the making of this surprise.” He's got a serious yet playful expression, a slight grin on his lips as he looks at you. ”Now, please, will you close your eyes and trust me?” He's quick to stick his lip out in a pout, instantaneously giving the puppy dog eyes to go with.
You eventually sigh, crumbling and giving in since you just can't find it in you to tell him no. “You're so dumb. But if this is another garden catastrophe, I'm sleeping in one of the guest rooms and taking all the pillows with me.” Wilbur immediately chimes, like a kid on Christmas who just got every candy and toy known to mankind.
“It won't be, just close your eyes, and I'll show you.” He says, wasting no time to press a peck to your forehead, making you smile.
You make sure both Wilbur's hands are on your own before finally closing your eyes and trusting him. He starts guiding you out of the room, being sure you don't walk into anything as he walks you through the halls with ease.
“You couldn't have just had me close my eyes after letting me follow you?” You ask in a teasing tone, realizing whatever the surprise was is a little bit away from your shared room.
“It would take away from the anticipation!” You can hear the grin in Wilbur's voice. “Alright, hold on and stand right here.” He finally stops the long awaited walk, carefully placing his hands along your arms and moving you just slightly so that you're facing a different direction. “I'm going to walk a bit away from you, but I'm still here.” He lightly expresses, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leaving you there.
You wait almost nervously, half tempted to just open your eyes without prompt. You were just about to when you heard Wilbur say to open them some odd feet in front of you, to which you do, blinking your eyes open a bit.
He had guided you towards the great hall, though it was more decorated than anything. Slowly stepping mind, you looked and paid more attention than you usually did. A real tree Wilbur likely paid someone to bring in was in the corner, decorated with garland, leafs, and what looked like golden tinsel. A few wrapped presents already beneath it, as well.
The fireplace was decorated up as well, some stockings hanging with mini winter decorations atop the mantel. The one in the centre being your favourite by far, it having been the little figures you used for yours and Wilbur's Wedding. It typically stayed on display in the entrance hall; A display of our love and bound fates, he had called it.
Other than that, there were random little things along the walls, likely placed up by the maids of the castle. A wreath that had yet to be hung up on an ottoman within the room.
When your eyes finally flickered to Wilbur, he stood there with a loving gaze, arms behind his back as he waited as patiently as possible. You had grown to know enough of his tells to recognize that he's nervous for your response. It just makes you give a soft smile.
“What's all this for?” You ask, finally stepping closer and standing more in front of him. “I mean- I love it, but why?” You can't help but ask, watching as Wilbur shifts on his feet and brings his arms around to his front, holding a small box in his hands.
“Well, I thought since Christmas was just around the corner, we should decorate.” He grins a bit more, clearly happy to know that you loved it. “I got this for you, too. Well, for us technically, but it's with you in mind, my love.” He's got that lovestruck expression on his face again as he carefully holds the small box out to you.
Your eyes flicker between Wilbur and the box, feeling nothing but warm as you gently take the box from him. Lightly opening it and giving a sound of awe, a pair of wedding bands placed within it.
“Oh, Wil.” Your eyes flicker to Wilbur, a look of adoration on your features before rushing forwards and wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I take it you like it?” He asks, breaking out into his own smile as his arms move to wrap around your waist. “I know that it's long overdue, and I have no excuse, but-”
“I don't care that I got it just now, I just love that you put the thought into it.” You didn't hesitate to cut him off, promptly pulling him into a kiss right after.
He smiled into it, quick to lean in and kiss you in return. Breaking it off after a moment of enjoying it, resting his forehead against your own with a grin on his face.
“We can stand here continuing to look like morons or we can go talk the caterers into making some cookies.” You suggest after a moment, hoping for the later.
Wilbur lightly chuckles, “At least we look like morons in love.” He presses a sweet kiss to your nose before moving to guide your arms away from his neck. “What if I told you I already convinced the caterers to make cookies and more?” He asks with a smile, gently taking the wedding band with one hand and your left hand with the other, gently sliding the band onto your ring finger before doing the same for himself with the other band.
“What are we doing standing here then? Let's go!” You grasp both his hands into your own with an excited smile of your own, pulling along.
“We're going, we're going-!” Wilbur laughed out, following after you happily.
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mudandmire · 10 days
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Contrasts
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Azris Week - Day One: Contrasts
~~~ Hello hello! I found the Azris ship and the community this year and have absolutely been consumed by it. I love this idea, I love these two characters, and I love that there's so much potential between them and for them to feed and inspire such a wonderful community. I've never participated in the acotar fandom apart from this, and I'm so excited! Thank you so much to @azrisweek for putting together this event, I have had so much fun letting my brain run free like a dog off a leash with these prompts :D ~~~
Tell me
Azriel calls him tatlım, and Eris doesn’t know what it means.
It’s a secret, he supposes he can accept it—relate to it. Nooks and hidden corners itch and snarl with the weight of his own. An enchanted drawer he keeps in the washroom holds his greatest wonder and his greatest shame.
The journal weighs heavy in Eris’s mind. He traces back the parchment pages with intangible fingers during lulls in his father’s council meetings. The drone of bees, lazy and fat in the afternoon sun becomes the hushed whisper of a canyon gale through dried grass. The lines he inks, stroke by stroke, Azriel matches in full, thrumming strides. Words next to his are clean, unbroken, while Azriel’s remain thick, written in charcoal with smudges at the corners from where his fist has run over the line.
When it’s dark, a time when even shadows cannot creep and loom larger, Eris presses his own fingertips to those words. The smears of charcoal because Azriel had told him early on in their budding friendship when they were young that he can’t use quills.
“They're too thin, my hands shake too much.” A smaller version of Azriel speaks the memory into his mind. The whorls and pockmarks on his hands hidden between the gap of his thighs.
Eris had taken it as a challenge—and now he revels in it. Azriel is messy with his charcoal pencil, too free with his mistakes and smudges and it leaves Eris half a country away and entirely breathless.
‘Tell me what bothers you, tatlım.’ Azriel had written him earlier, the familiar scrawl of his heavy hand appearing stroke by stroke in the filled pages of Eris’s enchanted journal.
Two were made, Eris gave one away. He could not bring himself to regret it even if his life were on the line.
‘Tatlım?’ Eris had asked, his letters looped and coiled together in the way they get when he rushes, when he needs answers.
There was no sound save for Eris’s own steady pulse, the whistle of air through his nose as he waited for a response. And yet he could’ve swore he heard Azriel’s laugh, the breathy one, brush against the point of his ear.
The words appear in the space between one breath and the next: ‘Maybe one day, gach’lilit, I will tell you. For now, stop avoiding my prying.’
Eris places a hand on the rise of his chest. Holding in something that seems to be rising from his stomach to his throat and lands gently on his tongue like the orange and black patterned butterflies in the garden.
‘Tell me now,’ he begs, ‘and I will tell you whatever you wish, Azriel.’
‘Come back to visit me, sweetheart. That’s all I ask.’
It had formed a pause in their effortless back and forth. Eris wanted to—Azriel knew that. No, the issue wasn’t in Azriel’s plea, he knew just how much Eris longed for the little village in the Illyrian steppes. The stable in the field and the small, knobby kneed, black lamb that follows Azriel around like ducklings in the Forest House pond in spring. He misses the creeping, ruby red moss and the yellow and sage aspens that crop up from out of the golden plains like the jagged teeth of a cliff.
Most of all, most desperately of all, he misses Azriel. There is not one inch of his soul that doesn’t.
The inked tip of his quill hangs over the page, a knife poised for the final push. Through skin, muscle, bone, to the heart of everything—the rot that waits, festering under the floorboards of his adamant desire to run. It is one thing; it is also a collection of things Eris has stored like the most gruesome of trinkets, the most harrowing of trophies.
Because Azriel calls him sweetheart. He writes in his tongue letters of longing and punctuates them with words like tatlım, and gach’lilit. As much as Eris wants to stitch those given titles to his chest, he already has one.
Eris Vanserra. Heir of Fire. Son of Autumn.
Sweetheart. Tatlım. Gach’lilit.
He cannot have both. The heir who wears the crown, who feels it’s golden spiked thorns pierce the thin skin of his head knows this. Eris Vanserra was not born with room on his chest for titles other than this: his father’s son.
When his quill meets the page, a heaviness in his hand that wasn’t previously there, he knows Azriel already knows what he will write.
‘Soon,’ he lies, ‘when the festival of the summer sun comes, I’ll visit.' Eris Vanserra cannot flaunt about the wilds of the Night Court without purpose or reason. Even less if the hint of the reason is his desire to see an Illyrian male—but he can set out on inter-court business to strengthen alliances, break down information, and gather intel. Eris Vanserra cannot winnow straight from the quilts of his bed into the hay-strewn floor of Azriel’s stable.
No matter how much he wants to.
His chest pinches, a sharp point digging into the sensitive skin between his ribs when Azriel takes a minute longer to reply. The page remaining horribly empty with their spare words, their delicate dance.
‘Then I will just have to hold onto these words a little longer, besheirt. I wish for you to hear them in person, for they are as sacred to me as you are.’
Something cracks, folds then splinters and out pours a smile like evening sunlight through the painted colors of autumn leaves in the canopy. The tension building in his shoulders leaks down and pools around his feet, an unwanted puddle he completely forgets about Eris may be an heir, a son of autumn, and child of a loveless, forced marriage; but he is also sacred. Something holy and divine by only the rights of Azriel, and Azriel alone.
Eris has his titles. The stitched corners of his heart taken up piece by piece, but he will forever play the game of keeping himself in between the two if it will let him keep Azriel.
He has his own titles to give him.
~~///~~///~~///~~
(Key for words:)
Tatlım - ‘Sweetheart’
Gach’lilit - ‘Firefly’
Besheirt - ‘Notion of a soul mate, but mostly means Intended in terms of spouse’
aH. Alright okay cool I'm so normal about them. This is a short little thing, and it doesn't follow canon lore lol sorry about that. I really loved the idea of contrasts because for me it's what first drew me to this pairing. At first it seemed like there were too many contrasts for them to even be compatible, and then through softening my perspective of both of these characters and their flaws (and no small amount of delusion in which we merely squint from afar at SJMs portrayal of these characters) I found that maybe these contrasts actually enhance their chemistry. what crazy imagine that.
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shhh-secret-time · 4 months
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We need more of that Soulmate stuff! Can we get one with Stan??? I've such a weakness for our goth boy!
Oh and thank you for writing gn! It's such a small thing but it makes me feel good to read! 🫶
Of course you can! I love Stan and soulmate shit so literally any excuse! I'm glad my writing makes you feel good darling!
Warning: Strong Language, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, over use of the word skin and flesh, and a single shit excuse for poetry
Pairings: Stan x GN!Reader
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The most annoying habit Stan had was chewing his bottom lip, so many things of lip balm used to try and repair his lips. Little discarded tubes of flavors that were the foulest thing he'd ever tasted, it was Kyle's idea, if it tasted bad maybe he could trick his brain into stopping the habit.
The second annoying habit was drumming his fingers on his desk, he was especially bad about it when he was younger. That was before the little marking on his skin started popping up. Little words and doodles on his forearm dancing on his skin. At first it freaked him out, he was fourteen and these weird little tattoos were popping up on his skin and then disappearing.
The third annoying habit was never learning to not go to his father when he didn't understand something. One would think after it backfiring so many times Stan would learn to go to his mother when he had questions. To his credit Randy did give him an answer. It just led to a whole ordeal of him telling the entire fucking town that his son has a soulmate and that his son was just like him when he was fourteen. It was embarrassing and he hoped that whoever his soulmate was didn't hear it.
Apparently, the little doodles and grocery shopping lists on his forearm was his soulmate’s handwriting and boy did they love to draw on their arm. Stan would be out in the football field practicing his throws when he'd feel the light brush of the pen across his arm. Which always lead to him fumbling a pass. Maybe he had to thank his coach for all the times he yelled at him because it was after one practice that he finally started marking on his arm back.
At first it was just to try and get whoever his soulmate was back. Taking a sharpie to the underside of his forearm, the big blocky letters spelled S-T-O-P. He remembers tugging down his sleeve with a grumble, thinking he would be free from the torment. Little did he know this was a declaration of war.
You were sitting in the science lab when it happened, working on your assignment when the letters appeared. Up until then you never saw something like that happen, so when it did you nearly dropped the beaker. Soulmate or not, who did they think they were to send such a passive aggressive message?! You excused yourself and hurried to the bathroom, ignoring the look of your partner. You pulled up your sleeve and glared down at bright silver words.
Stan furrowed his brows as his eyes scanned over the new message.
"Who uses a silver sharpie?! Are you kidding me?!" You hissed.
Well, you couldn't take that sitting down, could you? Your hands dug into the pockets of your pants to pull out the pen you always kept on you. Dragging the tip of the cheap pen across your skin, you wrote your little soulmate a loving note.
"Eat shit."
The font lit a fire in him as his eyes narrowed. Stan took the lid off the sharpie and drew a crude middle finger on his palm. Once he was satisfied with it, he pulled his gloves back on, maybe his soulmate didn't have gloves and would have to deal with that.
From then on Stan carried that damn sharpie everywhere. He would be in the middle of talking with his friends about something when he'd feel your words sketch onto his skin again. He would stop even if he was in the middle of something just to read whatever rude thing you'd come up with. It was Kyle who finally approached him about it.
"Dude you're gonna get ink poisoning." Stan almost missed the way Kyle scolded him, to focused on writing.
"I don't care Kyle! They're insulting the Broncos!" Stan hissed back.
"How did you even get on that topic?" Kyle rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.
"I-...I don't know but I'm not going to just let them shit on my favorite team!" He looked up towards his best friend, Kyle could see the fire behind those blue eyes and almost chuckled.
"This person is supposed to be your soulmate, ya know? Like your forever partner."
"I know that! But it's like they know exactly what to say to get under my skin!" Stan groans as he caps the sharpie and slumps back against the park bench. "I mean...was it like this for you? You found yours recently."
The red head raised a brow at his friend, the question catching him off guard. "Hm...no? We got along pretty much instantly. Guess it helped they found me before I found them?"
Stan watches as Kyle presses a thumb into his palm. A warm smile plays across his lips as he rubs the golden letters. Rumors of Kyle and his soulmate spread quick, they were the talk around campus for a while much to Kyle’s dismay.
"But I get what you're feeling."
"You fight with your partner like this?"
"What? No! Not yet at least...I mean it's bound to happen eventually, but I mean the thing you said about their words getting under your skin." Kyle shook his head making the green straps on his head swing back and forth. Before Stan could respond Kyle held up his hand and continued. "They'll text me or say something to me and it just...feels like my heart is going to explode. The first time we kissed it felt like my skin was on fire, it felt intense. So... I think that might just be a side effect of having a soulmate. Everything is kinda turned up to eleven."
Stan just sat there and listened to him. He pushed his hands in his coat pocket and squeezed the sharpie, letting the words sink in. Leave it to Kyle to make him think about it more. Stan responds with a long sigh.
"... Maybe."
"Hey at least you can talk to yours. We had to go based off each other's thoughts...it's hard keeping my thoughts in control."
"Yeah, I don't know if I could live with that, probably end up cutting my hand off." Stan chuckles and looks down at his forearm.
Maybe he could swallow his pride a little and just take it easy. It certainly made sense now why your words were having such an effect on him. If everything was turned up to eleven like Kyle said, then maybe he needed to take a step back and try something else.
It wasn't until he was sitting in class bored again that he got the idea. He even went out of his way to use a different marker, one with a smaller point. Pressing the tip to his arm, he watched the bright blue ink bleed into his skin. Stan didn't really know what to write, it was hard to go from writing stupid insults and drawing crude things to something just mundane. He pressed his lips together and stared hard at the little blue dot until his hand started moving. Stan wrote best when it was in song lyrics or his poems.
Watercolor running down my skin.
It's supposed to feel cool but all it does is make my head spin.
You get under my skin like fire.
The tip of your pen bleeds me like sharp wire.
He pulls back and looks down at it with narrowed eyes. Stan can already feel the warm embarrassment spreading over his face and up to the tip of his ears. Quickly pulling down his sleeve again, he tried to push it out of his mind for the rest of the day. An hour went by before he felt that all too familiar feeling, it was something he was getting used to at this point. He looked down and his eyes widened in awe.
"Did you write that? It's good."
No smart-ass comment about his poetry. You didn't make fun of him for putting his words in a silly simple format. You just complimented it. Stan could feel his heart speeding up as he re-read the small sentence under his poetry over and over again.
"Yeah. I'm not good at communicating normally."
"Poetry is just easier for ya huh?"
"That or music."
"Really? You play?"
Stan grinned down as he started running out of room on his forearm, having to move to the surface of his arm now. His face getting closer to his skin as he hunches over his desk to keep writing.
"Yeah, guitar and a little bass. They're kinda similar."
"That's cool!"
"Do you play any?"
And soon his entire arm was covered in back and forths. Talking about music to whatever else the two of you could come up with. He learned about all your hobbies just as you learned his. You started keeping a little journal of all the poems he wrote you, all the little songs he'd write down across his. It was when you'd wake up to a poem, first thing in the early mornings. The sunlight caressing your entire body, wrapping you up like a hug.
The poems spoke of things like how he was excited to talk to you throughout the day. Asking you if blue was starting to become your favorite color. Did you think of him when you saw it? Things like how he was so happy to see you respond and that he thinks of you every time he strums on his guitar. You were just thankful he couldn't hear your heartbeat or see the way he made your face flush.
But there was that longing to finally see this person. You learned your partner was a he but the thought of asking him his name didn't seem to matter. It was like you'd known him your whole life, and because of him blue was starting to become your favorite color. So one night as you sat at your desk, you decided to just go for it.
"Hey. I just thought about how I don't know your name!" You had to move to writing with your non-dominate hand which made your handwriting a little shaky.
You giggled at the little doodle that came up next to your statement. It was a horrible drawing of Kirby pointing at the writing, but his face was scrunched up in disgust.
"I dunno. Didn't think about it."
You waited after reading his sentence, thinking he was going to continue. Nope. Nothing.
"Well, what is it??" You asked as you doodled next to the Kirby, a little frog wearing a hat joining the fray.
"It's Stan."
"What?! No way!"
You circled Stan's name with your pen and drew a bunch of exclamation marks. You knew a Stan; he was the quarterback at your university! He had three little friends that always seemed to follow him! He was the kid who brought a guitar to-
He brought a guitar to class sometimes.
He wrote in his notebook when he thought no one was watching.
He made your heart beat and the butterflies in your stomach flutter.
He was your soulmate.
Did he even notice you like you did him? Did he know you sat across the room from him in history? Or that you were his soulmate? Of course he didn't! He doesn't even know your name.
You break out of your spiraling thoughts when you see the blue ink across your skin again. "Pretty sure way. That's the name my mom gave me."
"You know what I mean dick! I know you! You're Stan Marsh! You live on that farm that's like an hour away from here in South Park!"
There was nothing for a while. Maybe you shouldn't have said all that, but the faster your heart sped the faster you wrote. You didn't think to slow down until you looked back at how hastily everything was written.
"You go to my university, don't you?" He asked.
"South Park college. Go cows." You doodled a little cow next to the response hoping to relief a little tension.
"Go to Stark Pond in an hour."
"What?! Dude it's like 6:30! I can't just leave this late!"
"I wanna meet you and I don't wanna wait. I'm already in my truck."
You could tell from the way the letters were spaced out and slanted. It was almost gibberish, gibberish that had your blood pumping. In a manner of seconds, you learned the name of your soulmate and you were actually considering going out. It would be around seven thirty before he actually showed up. You bit your lip and looked over at your car keys but only for a moment. When the thoughts of how he wanted to meet you were so bad he was willing to drive out again to see you. To see who you were. The fear of disappointing him did cross your mind, what if he hyped you up too much.
You knew Stan Marsh. You knew how pretty he was and how he could make a group of people follow him. You knew he had those beautiful baby blue eyes that seemed to go forever.
God you loved the color blue.
With a huff you grabbed your keys and put on some decent clothes. You waited at Starks Pond for that hour, you could have stayed home to wait but your anxiety wouldn't let you. Not the way your heart was still pounding, every minute that passed felt like agony. Pulling your jacket closer to your body, you almost leapt out of your skin each time a car would pull up; only to be disappointed when anyone that wasn't Stan got out or drove off.
When finally, a beat up brown truck pulled up next to yours. Your breath hitched when you saw movement, breathing out when you saw a familiar pair of red shoes. A blue hat that looked well-loved over shaggy black hair.
He was standing by the water looking around, he looked as nervous as you felt. Just when he thinks you're not coming do you finally find the strength, the feeling, in your legs to step out of the car. The cold air nipping at your skin, it felt like ice right now from the way your skin set ablaze. The sounds of your footsteps crunching against the snow makes him look back and his jaw drop.
"It's you."
"It's me." You respond with a little smile, your voice barely above a whisper.
Stan takes the initiative and meets you halfway, the two of you meeting on the worn out walking trail. It isn't until he steps into the moonlight that you realize he's not wearing his jacket, but you notice the ink going up and down his arms.
"You actually came. I didn't think you would."
"I almost didn't...it's cold you know." You shoot him a little smirk, changing the tone in your voice to a lighthearted tease.
Stan let's out a breathy chuckle, you can see the little puff of air that escapes his lips. He takes a step closer towards you. You can feel the heat coming off him, radiating around your body. "Yeah guess it is. Forgot my jacket."
"Were you that excited?"
"Are you kidding? Yeah! It's not fair you knew what I looked like!"
And when you giggled Stan felt himself walking on air. The way you made his heart soar from that alone. He'd never write something funny on his arm again, if he had something funny to say you'd hear it just so he could hear that laugh.
"Then I hope you're not disappointed."
"Wh... what? Of course I'm not disappoint- You have no idea how much I'm trying not to throw up right now."
"What?!"
"No! Hold on! That came out worse than I meant! I mean I'm nervous because- because you're so beautiful and-....and I'm fucking this up, aren't I?" You watch the panic in Stan's eyes as he scrambled to try and find the right words.
You broke his mind when you laughed again. If your hands didn't come out to take his he would have bolted, ran off to find hole to crawl into. Instead, your hands anchor him to that spot, your smile brings him back down just for him to get lost in your eyes.
"You do suck at communicating." You whisper and press a kiss into his cheek.
"Uh...yeah well...you're the one kissing me. So ...I must be doing something right." Stan mentally kicks himself for that comment, but he can't help that little competitiveness in him.
Stan doesn't let you get whatever you're about to say out, his lips meet yours eagerly. He knows whatever you're about to say is only going to make his face turn a deeper shade of red. When he pulls away and sees your eyes are shut and your lips still slightly parted from the kiss, he knows he's already in deep. Especially when you cupped his face and brought him in for another.
Everything felt like being turned up to eleven. Everything felt right. You felt right being in his arms like this. He never wanted to come down from this feeling and he was sure you felt the same.
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Text
Look At Me
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Schlatt x Fem reader
Requested by: None
Warnings: Smut, degrading, Praising, Dom!Schlatt, swearing, Fluff and Ted at the end.
A/n: 18+ NSFW if you don't like the warnings please don't read!!! Please keep my comment section aggression free!
Tag: @goldenstarofthunderclan ❤️❤️❤️
Love you so much, bestie
___
Y/n, Schlatt, Ted, and Charlie rented at a hotel in New York for a couple of days, so they had a place to stay while they hung out with Tommy and a few other people.
Charlie and Ted shared a room and next door was Y/n and Schlatt.
Y/n was sitting in the swivel chair and Schlatt was on the bed, his back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress, the other was over the side. He watched as Y/n was pecking away at her phone doing the important shit she had been meaning to get done, but always had distractions.
"This is fuckin boring." Schlatt grumbled. "I wanna go do something."
Y/n didn't even look up from her phone. "Then go do something. You don't have to be bored."
"Not without you, I don't wanna run off and leave you here by yourself. What if you get done with whatever it is your doing and I'm still out and you wanna go somewhere?"
Y/n shrugged. "Well, then I'll either text you or go hang out with Ted."
Ted and her have been best friends for a long time, whenever Schlatt was out doing shit with other people and Y/n was at home doing nothing, Ted would either call, ask her to make a video with him, or if he was in the area, he would randomly show up at the best time and they'd hang out and play videogames and Livestream on insta or twitch.....which would, more often than not, make Schlatt jealous.
"Jesus! Ted Ted, why is it always Ted? That guy is gonna rot your brain. Why don't you hang with Swagger or Charlie or fuckin Carson?"
Y/n chuckled, still not looking up from her phone.
"Why? You jealous? Because, I could make you just as jealous with Swags than I can with Teddy boy."
He just simply huffed. Time passed and silence covered the room, all for Schlatt tapping his knuckles on the bedside table.
"Christ, like that isn't distracting." Y/n mumbled.
He banged his fist against the hard surface, making her look up at him with a very annoyed expression.
"Finally, she looks at me."
Y/n shook her head, her gaze dropping back down to her phone. Schlatt huffed again, sliding his hand down his thigh. A mischievous smirk spread across his face, as he slowly began palming his cock through his pants.
"Y/n." He whispered.
"Babe, I'm really trying to get this done. I have a deadline and that deadline is in two days! My schedule is stacked and this is the only time I can get this done, so can you plea-"
Her eyes dropped to his hard member that was pressing against the front of his pants.
"No, uh uh....Im not playing your games." She scolded.
Keeping his eyes locked on her, Schlatt pulled his cock from it's confines and began slowly stroking it, catching how she swallow at the mere sight of his length.
"I think she likes what she sees." He groaned.
"Don't you normally like what you own?"
"I don't know, she's currently trying to ignore me."
Y/n bit her lip and leaned back in her chair, watching as beads of precum formed at the tip of his cock, his thumb swiped over further lubricating his length.
She chuckled and looked back down at her phone, Y/n was no longer invested in what she had been doing, she just wanted to annoy him.
"Look at me."
She refused.
"Y/n." His voice was stern, she knew better than not to listen. "Look. At. Me."
Slowly her gaze locked on him. Schlatt put his hand out, motioning for her to give him the phone. Y/n stood making her way over to him, she handed it and dropped her panties to the floor, so now she was only in her big oversized black T-shirt that said Moonknight on it (I actually have that shirt).
"Come here, baby girl." He whispered, pulling her down onto his cock.
Y/n gasped at his size, gripping his shoulders as his hands made their way to her hips. Schlatt started grinding her against his cock, he may have allowed her to be on top, but Y/n knew she was in no way in control.
"There you go, pretty girl. Let daddy have control."
Schlatt's mouth watered at how her body moved against his, how her mouth was slightly open and quiet moans slipped from deep within. He ran his hand under her shirt and up her stomach, squeezing her breast and smirking when she arched her back into his touch.
"Yeah, you like that don't you? God, you're such a pretty little slut."
Schlatt gripped her neck, pulling her down into a heated kiss. He began thrusting up into her and moved his hand from her hip, to her clit. He rubbed tight circles against her bundle of nerves, making her whimper into the kiss.
"I know, that's a lot of stimulation isn't? Maybe a little too much?" He halted all movement. "I should probably stop."
"No, please." She buried her face in his neck, her hands holding his biceps. "Please, don't stop. I need you."
"I thought you weren't gonna play my games." The sarcasm in his voice was just plain evil. "You still don't wanna play?"
"I-I do. Please, just don't stop."
"Go ahead. "
"What?" She almost whined, sitting back and looking at him confused.
"Go ahead, if you want it so bad." Schlatt leaned in close, their lips almost touching. "Fuck yourself in daddy's cock."
Their eyes were locked, his breathing hitch as she started moving again. Schlatt didn't wanna say it, but he was close. Just the sight of her was enough to make him cum, but he wanted her to give in first.
Y/n's demeanor suddenly changed, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his. He could feel she was about to cum, Schlatt grunted at the feeling of her clench around him.
"That's it, cum for me." He coaxed, rubbing her thighs.
Y/n dropped her head to his shoulder, muffling her cry. The heat of her release and Schlatt gripping her leg and the back of her neck as gave in, coating her walls with the thick ropes of his cum.
Y/n shuddered, out of breath and whimpering.
"Shh shh shh." He cooed. "It's okay, you did so well. That was fuckin beautiful."
There was a sudden knock on the wall and Ted's voice came from the other side.
"You do realize out beds are right up against the wall right? So if you guys just decide to do that again, please do it when I'm not in the hotel."
THE END ❤️
I hope you enjoyed
Reblogs are welcome 🤗
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ickmick · 7 months
Text
INKTOBER DAYS 30 AND 31!!
getting immediately into this- the acronyms key, past weeks posts, and rambling afterwords are under the cut!! drawings on full display today!!
Day 30
gore: undead
we have a miss cleo!! look at them!! so very cool, I'm actually very happy with my first real attempt to draw her! the hair was fun too, ehehe...
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Day 31
wh: so below
hc: halloween
GRIANS COSPLAY OF CROWLEY!! WHO CHEERED?? 🎉
he looks oh so smug and cool, I really love this drasing of him! that face! and I took a worth while risk on the pose!!
(I have moved the next 2 paragraphs to under the cut, to make sure this isn't too long to scroll through if you only want to see the art!!)
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as for the second sketch (which has two photos so you don't have hold you device upside down LOL) I had the idea of secret life grian and (SL)watcher grian! a reverse, mwahaha... I really only meant to draw the crowly one, and didnt think I had the energy for more... but brain rot!! it is so strong!!
so of course after that I finally rectified my lack of clothes design for watcher grian lol... now i have to draw a SL design too!! eventually... eventually... I didnt make a note of it, but I think he just... wouldn't wear shoes LOL... watcher grian, I mean. let those lil talon feeties free, or whatever pffft...
week one, two, three, four and 5.1s posts!!
I'll only list the prompts I used that day, but here's the key for acronyms n such;
wh = welcome home
hc = hermitcraft (I have 2!)
ink = official inktober
gore = goretober
(actual gore will be triggerwarned! so far none has any blood or violence!)
Oh boy- okay! so I swear I didn't forget, its just that art block came and smacked me in the face for a short period. Thankfully I came out of it with two drawings I really love!! And some pretty good doodles too, haha...
I do think I still want to do a weekly novelember drabble... and of course a related drawing. we'll see! check in on sunday! i wont just disappear now that inktober is over!!
but also, maybe come back tomorrow if you're interested in a certain very tall persons birthday. yknow, the one with a new vtuber model! yeah! them! /silly
(Im talking about Ranboo, haha!! Im hoping to finish a drawing for their birthday tomorrow!!)
Thanks again for all the support!! 💜
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remyfire · 13 days
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34, 35 and 12 caught my eye but I cannot decide who I want them for so ig whatever pairing (or poly group ) is giving u the biggest brain rot rn but bonus if it includes radar or trapper bc i am intrigued by how u write radar and i am slightly feral about the feelings trapper induces in me
Hi anon, you unlocked something in me when I read this ask, so I went for total broke and now there is radartraphawk. I really hope that's okay!! As a bonus, I have included Every Kiss. Also it's 3k and a bit angsty. I hope that's also okay. Okay no more stalling, here you go. Kiss Roulette (12) A kiss along the collar bone, (34) a kiss after a bite, (35) a kiss against a wall [AO3 crosspost]
It's certainly not the first time they've tussled and it absolutely won't be the last, but there is something particularly wild in Hawk today, and John has a feeling that it's got something to do with the wide-eyed company clerk perched anxiously on the edge of Hawkeye's cot. "Will you fuckin'—" When John's leg clips the stove and sends the empty coffee pot clanging across the floor, he grits his teeth and tightens his grip on Hawk's arms. "Will you settle the fuck down?"
"How 'bout you let me go first?" Hawkeye spits back. He'd started by straining to get free of John's hold but now he's gotten damn squirrelly, trying to turn the tide instead.
"How 'bout you stop being a little shit?"
They twist and squabble. Hawk's hip slams against the poker table. John almost goes tumbling and Radar throws his hands out just in time to push him back to his feet. It's like being in college again, surrounded by nothing but football players who didn't wanna admit they were sucking each other off in the locker room when all the lights went down and everybody else went home. He gets it. He played that game too for a hell of a lot longer than he should've. But why Hawkeye fucking Pierce is so pissed at him about what John just offered, he has no idea, because this guy's gotta be responsible for at least a million sexuality crises alone. He can barely keep his hand out of pants—any pants, his own or John's or a nurse's, probably everybody who's ever been on R&R in Seoul for the past year. Where the hell does he get off causing such a fuss?
"C-Captain." Radar's small voice comes from behind him. "I should probably just—"
John finally, finally slams Hawkeye against the locked door. He gets one moment of peace, both of them panting and glaring at each other with sweat gleaming on their foreheads, before Hawk starts up again.
"Would you sirs stop?!" Radar's louder now, piercing.
It's Boston instinct, really, that has John trying to get his forearm against Hawk's throat, and not even hard enough to do damage to his windpipe, but the moment Hawk's eyes bulge in shock, John pulls back just enough so there's no contact with his neck. "Sorry," he murmurs, chest burning with guilt. His forearm stings like he hit him with it. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Hawk—"
Hawkeye then twists his neck and bites it.
"Fuck!" And then they're back at it again.
Metal strikes metal behind John louder than a gong and they freeze. When John looks over his shoulder, Radar's standing by the stove with the coffee pot in his hand. He wouldn't be surprised if it had a dent in it now, if he slammed them together that hard. It's rare to see Radar really properly steamed up, but there it is written all over his face from his jaw to his eyes to his brow.
"You're not listening to me," Radar mutters. "This whole thing happened 'cause of me and you're not even gonna listen when I say something?"
"Hey, look, I'm sorry, all right?" John doesn't mean to let his frustration bleed into the words, turn them into daggers, but there's no pulling them back either. "This ain't your fault, it's Hawkeye over here who—"
"You don't get to tell me what I can or can't do," Hawk snaps. "I don't care how many times your dick's been in my goddamn ass, you do not get to throw me around like a puppet when I wanna walk out that door, do you hear me?"
"Hawk, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I'm not shoving you two together like dolls." John lets Hawkeye's shoulder go, immediately feels him starting to twist, but the second John's palm cups his cheek, Hawk freezes, jaw still tight but eyes staying on his. "I'm trying to figure out why the hell you're so spooked about saying you want something."
When Hawk finally flicks his gaze away, John lets him, just thumbs over his stubble and tries to figure out what the fuck is going on in his head. In a way, yeah, okay, he can understand something about it—the two of them weren't teasing Henry about robbing the cradle just to mess with him—but can't Hawk see that this is different? That Radar's different?
John drops his voice and leans in a little closer. He's not under the impression that Radar, of all people, won't be able to hear him, but he needs Hawk to see this, to know John's still trying to protect him no matter how much he wants to dump him in a snowbank right now. "Wasn't even a month ago you were telling me all about what he reminds you of." It's like a switch gets flipped. Hawkeye stops breathing. The air begins to heat as though a storm is ready to blow through. They both know what he means. That quiet night in the Swamp where Hawk had talked about the ways he fumbled through figuring out his own bent, the alleys and the bars and the backs of cars, how he'd taken his life in his hands over and over again just to have a taste of why looking at a man lit him on fire the way that it did. How sometimes he swears that Radar's toeing that exact same line—the curiosity that could drive him into danger made even worse by virtue of where the hell they are. That sometimes Hawkeye wishes he could just... That if he had a chance to...
John was thorough. He had to be. The same care that he took slipping through the back streets of Boston to loop his way around cops on their beats. He'd watched Hawk. He'd watched Radar. He'd seen the way they'd watch each other when they weren't being noticed themselves. The protectiveness in Hawkeye's body when he was around Radar, how he'd throw out joke after joke just to get him to smile. And within no time, John had a guarantee of what he already suspected. Yeah, sure, Hawk really had meant it when he'd finally admitted that he just wished he could make it a little easier, safer, and walk Radar through everything he was craving to know. But that wasn't the reason why Hawkeye would stare a second too long at Radar's ass when he'd strain to grab something from the back of the filing cabinet.
John's not an idiot. He's sure as hell able to overlook his own faults and fears and that's never gonna change, but he knows Hawk better than he knows his own name. And if Hawkeye wants something, then John wants him to have it, pure and simple.
"I got him here for you," John whispers. That was a whole other fucking story—overlapping his showers with Radar's over and over again until he finally caught Radar staring at his cock with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks, until John could lean over the partition and look him right in the eye and cut off the panicked stammering before it ever got started. "I got the scene set." A three-way poker game, the tent flaps dropped, the door latched, the shade pulled down, Frank cuddled up in Hot Lips's tent for the night. "I warmed him up too." Made damn sure Hawkeye was watching while John slid his fingers through Radar's hair and coaxed him in until their lips met. Made sure too that as Radar trembled with nerves, John had rubbed up and down his back until the fear fluttered away like it was never there.
And then Hawkeye had exploded. Because of course he did.
Now as Hawkeye meets John's gaze, he's slipped past anger—that rare, white-hot rage tinged with, of all things, the accusation that Trapper was taking advantage of Radar. The thing Hawk had never wondered about with any of the nurses John's bedded. Not even once.
Something's always been different about Radar.
"You know what could happen," Hawk mutters under his breath. "You know exactly what you're setting him up for."
"You'd rather it be with some stranger in the back of a Tokyo movie theater? Hawk, be fucking serious." John finally steps back, lets Hawkeye be completely free, but as he suspected, he makes no move to unlatch the door. "There's no advantage-taking goin' on here and we both know it. You wouldn't be caught dead looking at him if he weren't a grown man in your eyes, and that means he can tell you what he wants and how he wants it and you don't get to tell him he's wrong."
"Captain McIntyre?"
John stares Hawk down another moment more before he turns his attention to the cute little mouse who's found his way into their den. He's small but he's still got a few shards of broken glass in that sharp gaze of his. And he should. John's over here rattling on about how he's an adult, but did he stop what he was doing last time when Radar was demanding to be heard? With a sigh of frustration through his nose, John faces him fully. "Sorry. Don't mean to be keeping you on the outside." He'd promised himself he wouldn't. He's not so nervous of Radar's age as Hawk seems to be, but that doesn't mean he can just up and forget about how young and inexperienced he is in all this shit, not just the sex. "It wasn't supposed to go like this—"
"Captain McIntyre," Radar interrupts.
"Trapper." John almost doesn't realize that came out of him, not Hawkeye. Hawk's the one who will introduce him as Trapper, not...
"Trapper," Radar amends quietly. He comes closer, already holding out a hand with all the confidence he shows his personal petting zoo. "Sir, your arm."
A rush of lightning darts through John's veins when Radar takes his hand and rotates it to show him his forearm. Not the first time somebody's bitten down on it, but usually it's himself trying to keep quiet when Hawkeye's eating him out like he's his last meal. The teethmarks stand out quite vividly but he didn't break the skin. It'll just bruise over like it always does. "Oh, don't worry about it, Radar, s'nothing."
"It's not nothing." Radar scowls. "You got this 'cause of me, y'know."
"I got it 'cause I'm a jackass who wasn't gonna let Hawkeye storm his way into the O-Club when we..." John blinks as Radar lifts his arm. When Radar leaves a soft, gentle kiss right on the bite, John's stomach flip-flops. Fuck. He's just so...good. Every bit of him. He's not shy about doing that because he doesn't know he should be. He's standing here holding John's hand like they've been going steady for weeks rather than him stealing that first kiss tonight as a goad to his lover.
It's kind of amazing how smooth Radar's expression has gone by the time John glances back up at his face. He could be feeling nothing at all. "It's not your fault, Trapper. Really. I can tell you weren't fibbing just to play a joke or nothing, I promise." Even his words are perfectly steady. "H-He just doesn't want..."
Or not. John flicks his gaze to Hawk, but he's staring right at Radar with a furrowed brow.
"I mean, it's not a surprise or..."
John itches, doesn't think, just lets his other hand find Radar's back so he can rub it for him. It takes everything inside him to keep from pulling Radar into his arms and keeping him there until he smiles again.
Radar straightens up—like a soldier, John thinks with a boom of fury like a firework, there and gone in a flash—and clears his throat, letting go of John's hand. "Anyhow, it's not some big deal. So if it's okay with you sirs, I'm gonna, I-I'm just gonna go back and finish up some work."
The second Radar takes a step forward, Hawkeye stiffens, his arms shooting out to cover the full width of the door. Honestly, he looks shocked that he did it in the first place. But Radar peeks up at him, lips parted, and John does what he does best. He waits.
This isn't about John, except that it is, of course, because at least while they're here, Hawkeye belongs to him insomuch that John belongs to Hawkeye and neither one of them is ever going to admit it out loud. It's about John because his world revolves around Hawk's happy, his lust, his satisfaction, his rest, his everything, until one day when it won't anymore, which is a day John still refuses to let his mind focus on—it blurs over like he's nearsighted, and hell, maybe he is. It's about John because when he thinks about seeing Hawkeye and Radar tangle up naked in these scratchy green blankets, it's probably the most beautiful thing he could conceive of witnessing in the middle of their personal corner of Hell. So that's why he waits. Watches. Wonders if Hawk's finally going to let those muscles loosen until they're butter-smooth and melting from the heat.
When Hawkeye takes a long, deep breath, it's like a curtain getting pulled up to start a show he's been buzzing over for months. "You want this, Radar?"
Radar lifts his chin so he's looking Hawk right in the eye, a kind of steadiness that makes a thrum of heat flare up in John's gut. It's incredible. After all that effort to put on a brave face in the midst of rejection, all John's wanting to comfort him if he had to cry it out, he's far more confident in this decision than he'd given him credit for. "Yeah, Hawkeye," he murmurs.
"Tell me," Hawk says firmly, words like granite, like steel. "Tell me what you want."
Radar opens his mouth, closes it, then opens again. "I wanna learn what makes you feel good."
Hawk closes his eyes and bites his lips into a thin line.
"Wanna..." Radar approaches him until he stands directly in front of Hawk, just a few inches between them. John can't stop himself from visually tracing the lines of his neck, his shoulders, all so beautifully untouched by anyone. Then he can't stop himself from grazing his fingers slowly, slowly along Radar's trapezius, trying to feel him somehow through the jacket and shirts both. Radar shivers visibly, which makes John smirk, makes his mouth water, all the fascination that made him great at science before he was ever in medical school. "Wanna... I wanna touch you all over." He turns his head but doesn't fully peek over his shoulder before he snaps his gaze back on Hawk. "Both of you."
Both.
John can't actually say he's surprised, not really, not after the shower situation, but there's a jolt straight to his cock all the same. Hawk is so lithe. Beautiful. He's a goddamn perfect first try at fucking around with a man. John? He can sometimes sink into the background when he's near Hawkeye. He thinks he might be able to take advantage of that right now, but when John rests one hand on Radar's hip, he grins at the gasp he gets before he murmurs near his ear. "How 'bout we start you off with Hawk, see how you like it."
"Yeah," Radar whispers, then lets out a shivery groan.
"You want I should show you how to make him come?" John's words are husky, lush.
That makes Hawkeye and Radar whimper in tandem, a gorgeous little duet that John suddenly wants to hear every second he can. Radar tips his head back and stares up at him, and the longer he looks, the more red his cheeks turn. Another spark on the smoldering fire inside John. "I'll bet you're real good at it, aren't you, sir?" And there's a roughness to his tone just the same.
John's lips quirk as he takes one step closer, bringing his body flush against Radar's back, urging him to press against Hawk, to trap him there at the door. "Like you ain't ever heard him moaning for me with those ears'a yours."
"I wasn't snooping," Radar blurts exactly like a snooper would.
"Ah-huh." Hawkeye grins—his first since this whole damn thing started. As Hawk slides his hands into the valley of his soft waist, a sound as delicate as a snowflake comes out of Radar and draws a hum from Hawk in turn, one of those that John's used to hearing right against his ear when he's damn satisfied with what he just reduced John to. "Radar..." The moment Radar looks up at him, Hawk seems to hesitate, and John watches the goosebumps skitter down his throat. "...how d'you wanna kick us off, huh?"
Radar only waits another second before he comes up ever so slightly on his toes to brush his lips over Hawkeye's collarbone through his shirt. He steadies himself with a hand on Hawkeye's ribs, right where John knows he won't miss the way he's beginning to breathe too hard from this barest possible graze. "Can I see you, Hawkeye?" Radar asks with such sincerity and naked want that John instinctively reaches to give him exactly what he needs, gets a fist of Hawk's hem before he freezes.
John glances up. Waits for Hawkeye to look at him with that burning, dripping lust, hot enough to melt through the floor like lava. And then John touches Radar's other wrist and coaxes him to grab Hawkeye's shirt instead. "Go on. He wants it."
"You want it, Hawk?" Radar asks as though to be absolutely sure, and though John's certain that it's a legitimate question, somehow it's practically filth when it comes from him.
"Fuck..." Hawkeye nods. "Yeah, yeah, Radar, I do. I want you bad."
Radar shivers with a little laugh as he pushes Hawk's shirt up little by little, reaching high to pull it over his head. "Then I'll treat you real good."
The rush of arousal hardens John to the breaking point, makes him so hungry that he can't stop himself from pressing his cock into Radar's back as he leans in to kiss Hawkeye ruthlessly. Hawk whines against John's mouth and scrapes his nails across his scalp, shaking, shivering, and John takes one quick glance to make sure Radar's okay—he's kissing over Hawkeye's chest like he's never wanted to do something so bad in his whole life—before he finally gives in and lets every ounce of his desire bruise Hawk's lips.
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actual-changeling · 1 year
Text
make a wish (on my heart)
Really hope y'all aren't tired of tooth-rotting fluff yet. You can find it on ao3 here, but I will also put the whole thing on tumblr <3
-
"Make a wish."
Ellie blinks up at him, lowering her comic into her lap, and she only now notices how close Joel has gotten. Their sides press together when she follows the warmth he radiates and leans against him, his outstretched left hand hovering between them like he is waiting for something. A single eyelash sticks to the middle of his palm, and she distantly recalls his fingertips brushing over her cheek just a few seconds ago; her brain stops being on alert entirely when it's just the two of them. He nods toward it, expectantly holding her gaze.
"It's yours, so it's your wish."
"Joel, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," she quips back, absently reaching for his free hand to gently tug on the hair tie around his wrist. Neither of them notices when she fidgets with it anymore, sometimes opting for his entire hand instead, and they only start paying attention to it once her grasp on it gets in the way of Joel's arm moving around. She traces the hard lines of his wrist bones down to his knuckles, slotting her fingers into the empty spaces, familiar with every bump and scar grazing her skin.
"FEDRA really didn't teach you shit, huh?"
His voice is soft, balancing on the edge between humorous and the mildly self-flagellating sadness he likes to fall into whenever it comes to her childhood, or rather the time before they met - not that any of it had been under his control, but that has never stopped Joel from blaming himself for things. Ellie links their pinkies like they do for their promises, pulling until he gives in and lets out the low chuckle she was looking for.
"Well, more reasons for you to talk to me, then," and Ellie cannot help the smile blooming on her face when he cups her cheek, her fingers sliding back up to curl around his wrist. His palm is just as warm as the rest of him, and if his arm weren't stopping her, she'd silently seek out his lap and request a hug (she always gets one).
"I don't need a reason to talk to you." Joel responds lightly, but they're both aware she was joking, and so he continues explaining without interruption, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone.
"It's a- not quite a myth but a belief, I suppose, that blowing on eyelashes makes whatever you wish for come true. I used to do it with Sarah all the time, even once she started thinking that it's silly."
Ellie rolls her eyes and bites back her grin when he sighs fondly, but she still leans forward and blows her eyelash off his palm with one strong breath, quickly losing sight of it when it flutters away from the couch and gets carried who knows where by the draft breaking in from under the backdoor. An almost aching pressure curls around her heart and squeezes when she spots the wistful look on Joel's face, his eyes shining a tad more than they did a few seconds ago, but it passes as quickly as it came. As soon as he lowers his hand, she takes its place and settles with her back against his chest, the weight of his arms wrapping around her comfortingly grounding, and when she picks up her comic again, all the tension she has been holding in her shoulders bleeds away. It is not even a particularly cold day, yet the body heat sinking into her body still melts away a layer of frost she hadn't been aware of.
"Wanna know what I wished for?"
"You can't tell me, or it won't come true."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"I'm serious, baby."
With his cheek resting on top of her head, she feels him search around for the book he put down earlier, grumbling when she gets jostled but quickly soothed by a kiss to her temple, and once they both finally still, Ellie is almost tempted to doze off; there is no better or safer place to take a nap than his embrace, and she always gets the best sleep with him right next to her anyway.
"Can I tell you what it was once it came true?"
His hum vibrates through her bones all the way to her toes, and her fingers once again slip between his wrist and the hair tie, drawing little crescent moons onto his skin and forcing him to hold the pages open with only his other hand.
"Sure," he eventually relents, pressing another kiss to her hair, "you can tell me when it happens."
They read cuddled up together for another hour, though only Joel actually reads, in an entirely expected turn of events. Ellie drifts off with her face buried in the crook of his neck, an occasionally moving blanket draped across his body, headbutting his jaw whenever she does since he cannot resist using her as a cheek rest. She is only half-awake when she carefully turns her head to talk to him so she doesn't add any more bruises, breathing a content sigh against his palm when he soothingly brushes back a few strands of hair.
"You plan on leaving any time soon?"
"Leaving?"
"Yeah, like, gone," she explains, weakly waving her hand around to visualize her point, not that it helps all that much, but Joel understands her like he always does, his voice both tender and steady.
"Not without you."
Satisfied, Ellie nuzzles her face back into his shoulder, her next words muffled by his shirt but still audible, and although she cannot see his smile, she can feel it seep into her like the growing glow of the morning sun.
"Then my wish has already come true."
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one-coming-is-enough · 6 months
Note
I wanna hear about your beef with Mr. Claus, if you don't mind.
I've been sleeping on this ask for a minute, and it's time, honestly. I've had such a busy holiday season already, it's crazy! I mean, this year in addition to all the zombies, I'm trying to get through the training videos for taking over Hell, and they're meandering, awkward, and full of incoherent jargon. It's just a lot!
But the 6th was St. Nicholas's Day, and tonight it's Hanukkah, so I should definitely answer this one.
St. Nicholas is a decent guy, if a little stiff-necked. His thing is giving dowries to poor women so they don't have to go into sex work. And also bringing poor children back to life after they're sold for stew meat.
(Also, he was the one who proposed at the Council of Nicea that Easter be celebrated on the first full moon after the spring equinox, which tied it to the solar calendar instead of the lunar calendar. Granted, this was to reduce the Jewish influence on the religion, but it also made it easier for Me to celebrate Passover, and I really like Passover.)
So St. Nicholas Day ends up being a day where, instead of finding the nearest whore and offering to fund her marriage (sex work is work), you give money and presents to children. You can see the connection, yeah? Make sure kids have what they need growing up and they won't go hoing to make ends meet. Or have to be made into stew.
Meanwhile, we have this spirit over in the East called Ded Moroz, or Grandpa Frost. He's just, like, an old guy who freezes stuff. He'll take your kids if they wander out in the cold like you told the little bastards not to do.
And because of cultural drift, the duties of Ded Moroz get shifted over to Odin, another dude from the East. Originated somewhere between the steppes of Mongolia and Turkey, as far as anyone knows, finally made his way to Sweden and even the British Isles. Odin is now the Yulefather, the freezer of water and collector of the dead in the dying part of the year. Makes sense, because He's a wind god, since air is the element connected with Spirit at this time. (This is true for Hebrew and Latin, too! Pneuma and ru'ach.)
Well, the church doesn't like that Ded Moroz is a spooky guy who takes souls, decides he's a demon. But people like their Ded Moroz a lot. So now, instead of being a demon who takes souls, he's... Well, who do we have that's also from the East, Turkey specifically, and who is associated with giving or taking something, especially regarding children?
We have St. Nicholas! Who gives children presents instead of taking their souls, and coincidentally can calm the storm (of wind) that so often takes the souls of those lost outside in the cold. And his holiday is just under 20 days before Yule Xmas it's Christmas now. (Or, Yuletide. You know, whatever. Sheol is Hades now, who gives a shit.)
So it all gets kinda muddled up. Odin, St. Nick, Ded Moroz. Father Frost, Father Solstice, Father Christmas.
Well, I'm hanging out in the Holy Roman Empire, and I hear about this guy known as Sinterklaas. I think it's my old buddy and trusted employee Nicholas of Myra, who as far as I know has been buying, freeing, and funding the education and/or startups of slaves for as long as that's been possible. (He has six to eight African guys he ended up hiring on as assistants.) And I hear he's giving out not just coins and oranges, which prevent scurvy, but also toys and candy. And Nicholas of Myra is a good man, but he had zero sense of humor or fun and would never give a kid candy ("it rots your teeth, at least have an orange").
So I track down this Klaus, whom the kids also call Kris Kringle. I hear the kids have been doing all sorts of weird rituals to him, like the Spanish Yule log that shits candy, or the little pooping guy they hide in the Nativity scene (also Spanish, now that I think about it. What the fuck did the Inquisition do to people's brains over there?). And that he has a creepy BDSM goat called the Krampus for an assistant, who's in charge of dealing out the punishment to bad kids (that one's German and I thought it was just, like, the nation's id or something).
And he's smol. I mean, this guy is fucking Thumbelina sized. Roughly round, jolly as fuck, red fur trimmed in white, pointy toque beanie to match, and a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer. Telltale pointed ears. Sparkling all over like they do.
Eight transmuted beings. Sleipnir (Dasher), Shiva and Baal Marquad (Dancer, Prancer), a kitsune (Vixen), a fallen star (Comet), Eros Himself (Cupid), and Thunder and Lightning -- Thor and Loki. Donner and Blitzen.
It's an entire Neil Gaiman novella of folks who've, I dunno, lost some kind of bet to him.
Okay. So he's one of The Neighbors. Gotta be careful.
I greet him like he's my old buddy Nicholas. I ask him how the soul collection is going and ask to see his inventory. He demurs, but I remind him that I'm his boss and they'll all come to Me eventually anyway. I just want to see if I think he ought to put any back. Oh, and can I just scan your company badge so I can establish that you made your check-in?
Well, I'm bluffing really hard, but he doesn't know that. He says he lost it. I tell him I'll wait with the souls until he gets back -- actually, whoa, looks like he's got a full load there. I'll take them in Myself.
That's when he laughs and says, "Well, Jesus, looks like You caught Me fair and square tonight. But how's about you and I make a deal? I'll spread Your Word and tell children to be good. And I will tell them to give to others all year round, because that's the spirit of Christmas. If they are good all year round, doing what their parents say, I will give them presents. If they are not good all year round -- which is to say, they don't do what their parents tell them to earn Christmas presents -- I will not give them presents. Fair?"
Note the wording carefully. Note where there's an and, and where there's not an and.
This works for a while. And then this song comes out.
Something seems wrong if kids are getting Santa presents according to the wealth of their parents, not their goodness over the year.
Then I find out that the primary metric by which Santa distributes presents is no longer behavior, but belief.
Not in Me.
In SANTA CLAUS.
I storm into his North Pole office yelling idolatry and he's got a fucking elven lawyer underlining shit. He didn't convert. He only promised to encourage charity. He didn't promise presents for charity, it's just for kids doing what their parents say they need to in order to get gifts, and right now that's belief in him.
I'm fucking steamed and he points out that I do exactly the same thing. Instead of doing good works or seeing the Divine in others regardless of social status or even fighting for equality here on Earth, Heaven has gotten twisted around to the point where believing in Me alone -- not what I stand for, which at this point can be nearly anything, but just the idea that I existed and did the Thing -- is considered sufficient acceptance criteria.
And I can't argue with that but I hate it. I hate that it's come to that. I hate what My section of Heaven looks like these days. I personally have been pleading for them to enact stringent, clearer, and above all objective metrics of entry, but I'm outnumbered in My own 5D connected consciousness in that opinion!!!
So. Fuck that guy. I'd literally rather you just worship Odin for Yule flat-out than fuck with Santa Claus, because at least He has solid advice for living and a comprehensive afterlife system.
I don't know what Santa Claus is doing with all that belief except get bigger, and it really scares Me.
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maruyaaya · 1 year
Note
Hey Imeda! I am Low! I read your Pandalily fic recently and I adored it! I saw that you haven't had this account long and since I can't peruse/stalk your account to satiate my curiosity I've decided to inquire here :) I hope you don't mind.
Do you have any specific Pandora or Lily headcanons you can share? Do you have any WIPs in the works? Do you have any songs you are listening to on repeat right now? What are the top 5 ships that are giving you the most insistent brain rot currently?
And finally, I am done pestering you and I'm wishing you a day full of wonder <3
OMG HI LOW!! yes absolutely i am always happy to talk about pandalily they are my beloveds <3 yeah i set up this acc relatively recently bc i wanted a fresh start for my ao3 and i haven’t really had the chance to do much on it yet (i am unfortunately a full time university student) but i am so happy you sent an ask bc i am always excited to talk to ppl!! feel free to send more asks or even dm me for whatever reason!!
i’m gonna do the pandalily headcanons last bc i have so many of them, but firstly do i have any wips:
oh i ABSOLUTELY have wips. i actually am the worst at starting wips and never finishing them, but as for main ones i’m working on rn, i have a prongsfoot wip that’s currently around 50k words 75% done, a marauders x daisy jones & the six au, a (you have to hear me out on this one okay bc i know nobody ships this but me BUT HEAR ME OUT) friends with benefits sirius x barty fic that’s about half done, and another pandalily fic that is basically just taking shape but i don’t have much to say about it yet (im actually just the worst multishipper ever and i ship my favourite character, sirius, with every single person who dares to so much as breathe in his direction)
songs on repeat
ok so i am totally willing to just link my spotify, in fact: here and i have a pandalily playlist in the works here, but specifically, i’ve had never love an anchor by the crane wives, three by sleeping at last, and funeral by phoebe bridgers on loop over and over as well as the entire daisy jones & the six album.
top 5 ships giving me brainrot
1. PRONGSFOOT!! prongsfoot is forever in my head as one of my fav ships ever
2. pandalily! i absolutely adore their dynamic and the little version of them that i have created in my head
3. rosekiller. i think this is a relatively unpopular opinion but i am so intrigued by their dynamic and i’m currently in the process of drafting a LONG fic about them but i haven’t done much work on it yet
4. dorlene. UGH MY OG ENEMIES TO LOVERS i am forever obsessed with them and i can’t believe i haven’t written them yet
5. normally i’d have jegulus around here i think but currently i’ve been having intensive brainrot about the idea of a dynamic between barty and sirius. i think they’re two characters who are very similar and yet hate each other and i think it’s really interesting to explore a two sides of the same coin dynamic between them and idk i have a lot of thoughts about them i could absolutely rant for a very long time abt the sirius/barty dynamic i have in my head
bonus bc it isn’t a marauders ship but my favourite ship of ALL TIME is soukoku, aka dazai/chuuya from bungou stray dogs. i like them a Normal amount (i’m crazy abt them)
and now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, here are a few of my pandalily headcanons that i can think of off the top of my head
first of all, my fav pandalily song is trouble by halsey. it’s literally them. that’s their dynamic to me
pandora’s much more open about her oddness and want for Blood while lily is more closed off about it. it’s still there—absolutely still there—but pandora kind of awakens it in her and helps her to realize that it’s okay to show that part of her
they met through james and regulus and often go on double dates with them
they absolutely get matching tattoos. probably ethel cain lyrics or something abt the inherent eroticism of cannibalism idk
my favourite headcanon is that pandora and evan are twins and evan tries to get lily the shovel talk when he meets her for the first time, but actually just ends up half in love with her bc he thinks she’s so cool
speaking of, evan and lily joke that they’re going to run away and elope so that evans name could be evan evans and pandora thinks it’s the funniest thing ever
bonus headcanon that evan is the older twin by a few minutes but pandora tells everyone that she is and he doesn’t correct her
they watched bones and all together and every 5 minutes they would whisper “this is so us” to each other
they absolutely LOVE baking together. they do it at least once a week and they make cookies or cupcakes or something and decorate them like pinterest photos and give them to their friends
they have two shared pinterest boards. one is really cutesy baking ideas and cute room decor inspo and the other is full of quotes abt cannibalism and blood and eating each other whole. they treasure both of these boards equally
lily is the biggest taylor swift fan ever and she makes pandora listen to her songs together. pandora moderately enjoys taylor swift, but will listen to her constantly to please lily. lily’s favourite song is this is me trying and pandora likes cowboy like me
they give each other flowers all the time (notably lilies ofc). pandora can’t stand to watch them die and always presses them and keeps them all in a little notebook with the date they got them
they’re obsessed with biting each other. like not even just during sex, they do it all the time. they’ll be watching a movie and pandora will just reach over and bite lily’s shoulder for fun
their favourite show to watch together is hannibal. they’re crazy about it. they rewatch it all the time to an unhealthy extent
they often say really strange declarations of love to each other in front of other people like “i want to eat you down to the bones” or “i want to rip open your skin and crawl inside your kidneys and sleep in there” and everyone around them just laughs nervously and can’t tell if they’re serious or not
i probably rambled much more than i needed to but i am always very excited to talk!!
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littleoddwriter · 2 years
Note
i cant not take advantage of your open requests + ofmd brain rot sorry <3 i love your works and i cant wait to read more, especially about these characters!! might i request stede x male (trans, if you want to!) reader in a soft cutesy relationship, maybe stede comforting the reader about their anxiety? thank you in any way, you're doing gods work, love you and youre work <3
With You | Stede Bonnet x Male!Reader
Hello there!!! No apology necessary, I appreciate it! Thank you SO much, gosh, that really means a lot to me, I'm--- <3 <3 <3 Ok, sooo, due to the anxiety portion, this may not be super cute or whatever after all, but I tried, sorry! Hope you like it anyway, thanks for the request and everything else, thank you so much!!! Love you, too! <3 :D <3 Take care! :')
summary; You're having a panic attack and Stede helps you out.
notes; Male!Reader; Anxiety; Panic Attack; Comfort; Fluff.
When Stede had left to become a pirate, you had gone with him, no questions asked, no second thoughts attached. You had always loved him and could never live without him, and so when he had asked if you wanted to come with him, you couldn’t have agreed any faster. 
Since he had finally been free in the sense that his family life wasn’t looming over him anymore, it had just barely taken any time for you two to get together. Your first kiss had been magical to say the least. Nothing had ever felt so right in your life.
Your relationship wasn’t a secret among the crew, nor was it a problem. Neither of you ever wanted to return back to Bridgetown. 
Now, the only issue you had was that being on a ship on the open sea in potentially life-threatening situations every single day only made things worse for you, in terms of this anxiety you’ve been feeling for virtually no reason since forever. You had hoped that maybe it was the confines of life at home and the expectations you couldn’t meet that caused it; but now that you were on sea and free of those, you guessed that the underlying issue was a different one. 
You weren’t always sure what triggered it, either.
One moment everything was fine and the next you were cowering on the bed in your room that you shared with Stede, like you were right now. You were breathing quickly and shallowly, while your heart was about to beat out of your chest and your vision was blurry and spotty. Your body felt hot and cold at the same time. Your palms were sweaty. It was a living nightmare.
“Y/N? I was just talking to myself on deck, thinking you were next to me. Turns out, you were h- Hey. What’s wrong?” Stede’s voice cut through this fog your anxiety had created. 
Shaking your head, you looked up at him. You couldn’t say anything. Your throat was closed tight. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, you couldn’t breathe!
Stede sat down on the edge of the bed, putting his hands on your shoulders, as he made eye contact with you. His gaze was kind, understanding and so gentle. Always so gentle. He was right to call himself the Gentleman Pirate. He truly was a gentleman, after all.
“You have to breathe. I know you can do it,” he said softly and inhaled deeply before exhaling slowly, “See? Like this.” He repeated the deep breathing for you. 
After a few moments that you panicked some more because the air you took in wouldn’t go past your throat, it seemed, you were finally able to take a deep breath. You exhaled shakily and did it again. A tear slipped out when you closed your eyes in relief and continued breathing in time with Stede.
His hands were stroking your upper arms and shoulders soothingly, massaging them lightly. “Y/N, What happened?” he asked worriedly, and when you opened your eyes again his expression certainly matched his tone of voice.
You felt stupid for worrying him. You had no idea what happened. Everything was fine. Until-
“A big wave shook the boat and caught me off guard. And then I just- I must’ve started panicking, I suppose. It’s stupid,” you explained what most likely caused it. 
“No, no, no, that’s not stupid,” Stede said, looking offended on your behalf, which put a small, short-lived smile on your lips. He was so cute.
“Stede, we’re on a ship on the open sea. It is stupid that a simple wave made me panic like this,” you told him flatly, shaking your head at yourself with a scoff, “I shouldn’t be here and you know it.”
“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” he responded firmly, almost instantly, “With me. On our ship. With our crew. I know that you’ve always had this problem with anxiety and panicking, but I’ll keep you safe. I promised, remember?”
For a moment you just looked at Stede in wonder. He did promise you that when you first boarded the Revenge. And you never doubted that he would keep it. 
“Thank you,” you whispered, “I love you, Stede.”
You could hear his breath stutter, as his eyes widened. He still wasn’t used to hearing you say that, you knew. And every time you revelled in his reaction. It had taken him quite a while to actually realise what his feelings for you were. But once he did, it all became a lot easier for you both. Stede was happier and it seemed like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It certainly was the same for you. Even if he had never loved you back, you were always at your happiest with him and that would have never changed; but the uncertainty had put a considerable weight on you at first.
“And I love you,” he said ever so softly before he leaned in to press a short, chaste kiss to your lips. Your heart skipped a beat, swelling with your love for him inside your chest, filling you with warmth.
A genuine smile finally spread across your face when you parted and Stede mirrored you. Both of you let out a soft chuckle at seeing each other grin like that, all teeth and happiness.
It was almost unbelievable to you that you’d felt short of dying only minutes ago; but that was the magic of Stede, you thought. No matter what, he always made you feel better. He made you smile when you thought you couldn’t. He made you feel all these wonderful things that you had never expected to. He made it seem like time stopped when you were with him, never wanting it to continue. It was such a gift that you sometimes wished people would see that he had, but it was only for you to know it.
Never once did you have to question whether or not coming aboard the Revenge was the right decision; even when, in your moments of weakness, you were convinced that you were not supposed to be there, you didn’t actually regret a thing. Stede was right, after all, he kept you safe and you belonged with him on the ship. With him. Always with him, no matter where or what.
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a-regular-ol-pill · 2 years
Text
Currently being flooded with thoughts about these two with you as a kid and I have to pause my multi-tasking writing to ramble on about how cute it'll be for them to share you and take care of you. SFW but there is swearing. Beware!
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Like seriously! Vale would convince you to be more open with him, and tell him every single problem you have. He'd be so open to let you fly through the clouds, even make an air picnic date with you— and Valir up there as well, if you could! Vale does everything to make you feel free to do whatever you want, while Valir controls how 'free' you were. He'd ask you to stay away from him whenever there was a time he knows he has no control over the activation of his powers, and apologize profusely when you get scared by him?!
Oh and when you get hurt and they get conflicted on who should watch you and who should get badages for your wound?? UGHHHH. They'll just be switching around, until one chooses the opposite and the other finally leaves to get bandages. I swear the silent, telekinetic fight they had is literally visible for anyone, and they'll apologize to each other infront of you so you don't get sad at the realization that the fought over you.
They're literally twin brothers and you can't prove me wrong! They're on and off about who gets to act more mature than the other, and fights about who gets to hang out with you. Vale usually uses his powers all the time when travelling with you because it's safer, but Valir doesn't. And only uses it to fight off monsters that tried to attack you— A precious source of light in their life.
When you go missing, both of them would cooperate and find you with the help of using their powers. You follow Valir's familiar heat that was leading you towards their direction from the air, and Valir would ball his eyes out while apologizing to you a lot. Valir would hug the both of you and calm down the other. You don't even know how many things are running through Valir's head at the thought of losing you.
And oh my god, when they fight over what food they should cook for you?! MY HEART WILL FUCKING MELT BECAUSE THEY EVENTUALLY MIXED YOUR TWO FAVORITE MEALS TOGETHER INTO ONE SERVING! I know I'm aggressive but the thought of Vale stealing you from Valir when he fell asleep from cuddling you? I'm screaming from it!! They'll fight on who to cuddle you, but will settle on cuddling you together because you were on the brink of crying from their fights.
Anyways, this might've been more than a ramble but I have no clue. Thank you for reading in with my brain rotting thought! <3
- Pill
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neko-nemesis · 2 years
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Diluc this, huffman that EXCUSE YOU- Where tf is your appreciation for literal Dilf Wagner ??? I mean hunny??
A workaholic blacksmith? Hunky af? Strong? Actually had some meat? (sorry itto they did you dirty why mihoyo give you sticks for arms I dunno) the actual fucking zaddy in this damn game?!?!? Hellooo?!?!
Ps: my brain if full of rot and I finally plucked up the courage to send asks lmao excuse all the useless ones i prolly sent
THANK you for the ask love @brokeartskid and GOSH I'm so SORRRRRY for the late response, shit for me is going a lil rough this new year but ANYWAYS 😋OKAY OKAY listen. HEAR ME OUT!! I got alot to say about this man. BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY I HEAR YOU AND I GET YOU. I JUST DIDNT THINK THERE'S PEOPLE OUT THERE WHO THINKS THE SAME WAY DDHDHDHDJ and goodness please, feel free about the asks, you made my day with this incredible one <3 don't hesitate to drown me with your brainrots CAUSE UGH SAME DAMNITNSHDJS I finally know there's other fucking people drooling over this buff ass Wagner.
Side note for itto, istg he looks like Zeke's titan/ the beast titan from aot ☠️ I'm sorry mihoyo played my guy wrong
Istg, I saw a TikTok of him way before I started the game and man got me raising my brow in interest. And when I did join the game, when I would have some spare time, I'd just stand there near the blacksmith and watch him HAHHSJDUDHDJ. I got some headcanons of my own for this beef cake (lmao I'm sorry) ;)
Okay, No one. NO ONE can convince me this mf isn't pent up as shit. I doubt he ever took some time off from working so hard all the time and you know, let his mind wonder. So really, imagine being that one little pretty thing that caught his eye. >:)
He's ofcourse not one to have time for idle chatter (diluc much?), Imagine that sexy buff man for once in his life getting distracted during work whenever you were around the streets. Oh I'm sure it will be soooooo frustrating for the man </3 what's more enticing annoying for Wagner is that you know what you're doing.
So imagine one fine evening, he just had enough. He's not used to having distraction nor a need for something or should I say someone ? Ofcourse it's none other than you ♡ even more so, after seeing you flirt away with his apprentice, Schulz??? Well let's hope he doesn't break the weapon he's forging with his bare hands. (Screaming cause like just think for a secondsjdj) bestie you're getting your guts rearranged tbh.
So I say, don't be so surprised if you happen to be walking by but suddenly get dragged out of no where but then see it's none other than Wagner himself, literally fuming. (Gosh do  I love hot men when they're angry.)
So just imagine, Dilf Wagner having enough with your shit and bending you over, arching your back until it aches a bit from the stretch but I'm sure you don't mind <3 the fucking man you've been wanting for so long, is about to pound you to oblivion buttt not yet.
The last thing you'd expect is him ripping down your pants/dress, the bottom half atleast. But before you could protest about the cold or your torn up clothing, his calloused hand spanking your bare bottom, hard. Gosh those hands. I can't bear to imagine the absolute bliss as well as sparks of pain you could feel through the impacts from his hands. My masochist ass can only dream~
And his voice? Cross my heart and I hope to die, it makes me all giddy. Imagine that same voice sounding all husky and drunk heavy in lust,
"You've been waiting for this, aren't you?"
"Don't tell me you're getting off to this like a whore."
OH and please tell me you remember his line from the dragon storm or whatever quest, he really goes
"What? Speak up. I can't hear you."
Imagine him mocking you like that when all you can do is whimper.
FUCK this, I can't write everything I think of here. I'll literally write a fic today about this mf 🏃‍♀️💨 lmk if you wanna get tagged ;))
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bokebelle · 3 years
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prove it - porco galliard
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a/n: happy friday please enjoy 2k words of just sucking pock's cock<3 for the brain rot <3 also thank you to the loml @ensta for being my beta again you're a real one 🥰
WORDCOUNT: 2.1k
WARNINGS: 18+ only minors dni; blowjob; fingering; edging; light degradation; deepthroating if you look hard enough; use of the term (good)girl, slut, whore; profanity; porco being a tease; a pinch of fluff in the end; no actual fucking.
PAIRINGS: porco galliard x fem(bodied)! reader
TAGS: smut, fluff if you squint
REQUESTS: open
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Maybe it was the way you swayed your hips to the rhythm of the music, your pretty little dress riding up your thighs ever so slightly. Maybe it was how you give a pretty and polite smile to random strangers whose lustful eyes roamed your body. Maybe it was the way you'd have this mischievous look in your eyes when you glance at Porco, your eyes locking with his unreadable amber ones, as you flirtatiously laughed at whatever the poor stranger at the club told you with the hopes of taking you home.
'Pathetic', Porco thought. They would flirt and fall for your pretty little games but you never went home with any of them. Hell, you never even bothered getting their names after they'd buy you a drink. They played right into your little trap, and Porco loved watching them lose every time. But when he saw a stranger getting ballsy by putting his hand on the small of your back, moving too close for his liking, he knew he had to remind you that although it was your little game, you were still just a player and he called the shots.
"Hands off, lover boy." Porco said as he pulled stranger's hand off of you. "She's taken"
"What the fuck man? I was busy" The stranger retorted, trying to grab your wrist to pull you back to him.
Porco shoved his chest and closed in on the stranger, inches away from his face. The dangerous glint in his eyes was unmistakable and you could hear the venom seep from his voice as he punctuated every word.
"I said. hands. off. my. girl."
The stranger looked at Porco, then at you before making the right choice and walking away. He looked at you one last time before mumbling "dirty slut" loud enough for you and Porco to hear
You immediately place your hands on Porco's chest to stop him from beating the shit out of the stranger. "Pock, baby, it's not worth it."
He looks at you and his soft golden gaze is replaced with a dark look.
He firmly grabs your jaw, his breath fanning against your jaw and neck, causing goosebumps to form on your skin and a slight tingle to run through your veins. "Since you're being such a dirty slut, as that fucker so kindly put it, maybe I should remind you how good girls should act."
He doesn't give you time to reply before he drags you by the hand, out of the club, and in his car.
Barely a second before you hear the door shut, Porco pushes you against the door with his hands and mouth all over you. You loved how his hands roughly kneaded the flesh of your ass while his mouth left marks on your neck and chest
You moaned by his ear as he sucked on the tender spot on your neck, the sensation of rough bites and his tongue roaming over to soothe the mark sending shivers down your spine. His hand moved from your ass to moving under hem of your dress, to gently tracing the edges of your panties that were growing wetter with each mark Porco left on your skin.
You moaned at his feathery touches, growing more desperate the more his touched teased you.
He lightly traced the waistband of your panties before shoving his hand in, his fingers automatically finding their way to your core. His fingers slowly circled around your swollen clit. So close, yet never quite hitting their mark.
Your moans were growing louder, more desperate, the closer Porco got to directly rubbing your clit.
He's playing with you. He always did when he felt a little more dominant, when he felt you needed reminding that you were his and his alone. Right now, you were a slut that needed to be taught a lesson.
It was torturous for you sometimes. He would bring you to the edge of pleasure only to reel you back in. It was almost unbearable. But the way he always left you satiated, with an aching core and shaky legs, always had you coming back for more.
His two fingers rubbed just above your nub before gently tracing down your lips, stopping just before your soaking hole.
"You're already so fucking wet for me." He chuckled darkly. "I haven't even fucked you yet".
He plunged his middle finger into your hole while his thumb finally rubbed against your clit.
Your back arched in pleasure, your chest pressing into his. His free hand wrapped itself around your neck, his thumb tilting your jaw upward so his mouth could claim yours. He bit your lower lip, causing you to moan. He took this opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his. You gave him control, choosing to let him taste you rather than clashing for dominance. He wanted to teach you a lesson, and maybe you'd let him. Maybe.
He inserted another finger as his digits pumped in and out of you, the pads skillfully massaging that spongy spot only he seemed to find. The skillful ministrations of his fingers alone, his fingers curling up inside you to hit your sweet spot and his thumb rubbing precise circles on and around your clit, was enough to have your toes curling and a white-hot sensation to slowly burn you from your legs up to your core.
"Pock" you moaned into his mouth.
Fuck, he wanted nothing more than to hear you cry his name over and over again.
"Pock, 'm gonna cum." He knew you were. Your kisses were more desperate, your moans were louder. He felt your sweet pussy almost suck his fingers in. He felt your walls grew tighter and tighter with every thrust of his fingers, so desperate for release.
His fingers were about to push you over the edge, the familiar heat of pleasure slowly burning through your whole body. Just when you were about to let the flames of pleasure, Porco doused your flame by quickly withdrawing his hands and left you with nothing.
He smirked as he heard you whine into his kisses.
"Sorry." He smirks at the pout forming on your bruised lips. adorable. "Dirty sluts don't get to finish."
"But Pock!" You whine, rubbing your legs together hoping to get some friction, frustrated as you felt your ruined high ebb away. "I'm your slut."
Something about hearing you calling yourself a slut, something about calling yourself his, made him feel in control.
His lips trailed from your jaw to your throat, leaving more marks he was sure you would scold him for being too obvious to cover up. You were his, weren't you? You would understand.
"Prove it then." He growled into the skin of your neck, grabbing at the back of thighs, signaling you to jump up and wrap your legs around him. You do just that, securing your arms around his neck, leaving your own marks on him too. It was only fair, after all.
He squeezed the flesh of your ass and thighs tightly, surely leavings marks, as he sat both of you down onto the sofa. You straddle his lap as your mouth makes its way from his marked neck to lips.
You grind against his cock, causing him to moan. Urgent hands struggled to free his cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers. You wrapped your fingers around Porco's length and gently up and down. You pumped him a few times before you settled on his tip. You softly thumbed the bead of pre-cum, spreading it around his hed, your free hand massaging his balls.
His hold on you tightens almost painfully. You shimmy away from his grip and move yourself to the floor, kneeling in front of him.
You meet Porco's gaze, his pupils blown with pleasure. You hold his gaze, his hard cock still in your hand while the other settles on his thigh, as you trace the tip of your tongue around his head.
"oh fuck" he groans, throwing his head back against the sofa, aggressively running a hand through his now messed up hair.
You keep your eyes on his face as you gradually work your way down his length. Licking down, back up, then swirling your tongue around his head, slowly inching your down while your hand covers the areas you have yet to taste, moving in synch with the tip of your tongue.
Once you reach the base of his cock, Porco's tip is red, his face flushed from your slow and teasing actions. You flatten your tongue against his base and trace the vein that runs from the underside of his cock until you reach his head. You take his tip in your mouth, placing a small lick on the head, before sucking in your cheeks and making your way down his length. He was barely halfway in your mouth and you could already feel the tears in your eyes and the ache in your jaw.
You sucked up and down his length, cheeks sunken and spit coating his dick to help you bob up and down, and your hand to twist and pump where your mouth couldn't reach. Porco was always a bit too big that you couldn't accommodate all of him in your mouth, but tonight you'd be damned if you didn't at least try.
You slowly moved your hand lower and lower so your mouth had move of him to take in. You paused when you got a little lower and sucked a little harder before coming up, still sucking as you moved up with your tongue grazing his length . Your hand followed your motion, spreading your spit all over his cock. When you finally worked your way to his base, you removed your hand and let your mouth take all of him. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his tip brush the back of your throat, causing you to gag a little bit.
"Fuck" he gasped when he felt you take him all in your mouth. "you're such a fucking slut. Such a good whore for taking me in your pretty little mouth."
It was almost romantic how beautiful he thought you looked: your mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, tears clinging onto your eyelashes, one hand gripping his thigh tightly while the other found its way between your legs to rub your clit.
His hand tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before grabbing the hair at the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock.
He's close. You thought as you lock your gaze on his, eyes half-lidded with his approaching high. The grip on your hair gets tighter and his hips start bucking up to push himself deeper into your mouth.
"You're so fucking good to me for such a dirty slut.” He moans through gritted teeth. You suck his cock hard, taking him deeper into your mouth.
“Fuck baby” His grip on your hair tightens, pushing you down his length, the tip of your nose brushing his abdomen. You gag around his cock, the tightening of your throat pushing him over the edge.
He tries pulling out but you steady yourself, gripping his thighs, as ropes of Porco’s cum spill out of his tip, into your mouth and down your throat. You move up his cock, your hand taking its place. “Oh fuck!” He moans as you gently stroke up and down his length, twisting and turning your wrist to milk ever last drop from him as you give his head a few small licks before pulling his cock out of your mouth with a small ‘pop’.
You let go of his cock and move your hand to settle on his thigh, absentmindedly tracing patterns on his bare skin as you look up at him with a small smile.
Porco’s eyes roam your face. His hair is a mess, his lips slightly parted, panting as he recovers from his high, beads of sweat falling down his flushed face. Once he catches his breath, he leans forward and cradles your head in his hands. He places a sweet and gently kiss on you lips, a stark contrast to what just happened.
He guides you back to his lap. His touch is gentle as one hand settles on your waist while the other lovingly strokes your cheek. He places soft kisses on you lips and neck, kissing the places he’s marked as if he was apologizing for leaving them on the first place. He makes his way to the corner of your jaw.
“Maybe you aren’t a dirty slut after all.” He whispers, the rasp of his voice going straight to your core, a sudden reminder that while you were finished with him, he wasn’t finished with you. You feel him begin to harden beneath you when he kisses you deeper.
“You’re my good girl.” Porco whispers as he moves his hands to grip underneath your thighs to steady you as he stands up, making his way to the bedroom.
“And my good girl deserves to cum.”
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