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yxngbxkkie · 6 months

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secrets (b.c)

the seventh installment of my skz street racing series! i'm in complete awe that it's coming to a close. a part of me didn't think i would've been able to finish it! anyway, i do hope you guys enjoy this 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You tap your fingers against the kitchen table as you wait for your best friend to arrive. The food you ordered is beginning to get cold, a frown etching onto your lips. You release a sigh and reach for your phone, checking for any messages from Chan.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself after seeing no texts from him. You press your lips together before deciding to put the food away.

For the past three weeks, you've been desperately trying to hang out with Chan. And every time you plan something, it never works out.

After putting the food you bought for Chan away, you grab your tray of sushi before heading into the living room. You get comfortable on the couch and slip your phone out of your pocket.

You pull up Felix's contact and press the call button. You put it on speaker phone, listening to the ringing while stuffing a piece of sushi into your mouth.

“Hey, Y/N,” Felix greets you, hearing the cheeriness in his voice.

“Hi, Lixie,” you chuckle while setting your food down. “Can I ask you something?”

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end, waiting for him to answer. “Yeah, of course. What's up?” Felix asks as the background noise on his end stops.

“Do you happen to know what's been going on with Chan?” You question, casting your gaze to the floor. Before Felix is able to answer, you continue your rant. “I've been trying to hang out with him for three weeks, and he hasn't shown up to a single one. I'm just… worried that I've done something to upset him.”

Felix sighs, and you can feel your heart pound against your chest. “It's not my place to say,” he ends up telling you.

Your chest clenches at his answer, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper, clearing your throat.

“Just know that it's nothing to do with you, okay? Channie adores you,” Felix reassures you.

Tears pool in your eyes as you try to believe what he's telling you. “Thanks anyway, Felix. I'll talk to you later,” you mention before bidding him goodbye.

You set your phone down and grab your sushi again, eating in silence. A couple of tears slip down your cheeks while you're eating. You furiously wipe them away and glance towards your phone.

You finish your tray of sushi, humming in delight before setting the empty dish onto the coffee table. You pick up your phone again and try to call Chan.

The phone rings and rings. Your breath hitches in your throat when he answers. “Y/N, hey, I'm a little busy --”

“You've been busy for a month, Chan,” you cut him off, your lip trembling. You sniffle, and you wipe the tip of your nose. “I-If you don't want to be friends anymore. I would prefer it if you told me.”

“Woah, woah, baby,” Chan’s pet name he calls you comes through the receiver, making your heart jump. “I don't not want to be friends anymore. I'm sorry I haven't really been around.”

“I just want an explanation, Channie,” you whisper into the phone, tucking some hair behind your ear.

Chan sighs as you wait for him to say something. “I'll explain everything soon, okay? I promise,” he tells you, causing you to scoff.

You shake your head, standing up from your spot. “You know what? Forget it,” you tell him before hanging up. You toss your phone onto the couch, gently biting the inside of your lip.

After taking a minute to calm yourself down, you grab your trash from the coffee table and bring it into the kitchen. You clean up your mess, and you try to distract yourself from what just happened.

It's been two weeks since the incident with Chan, and you've made no attempt to reach out to him. If he's not going to put any effort into your friendship, then you're not going to either.

Hyunjin walks you back to your apartment, balancing the various shopping bags in your hands. “Thanks for coming with me today,” you smile at him, appreciating the company.

He takes the bags from you, noticing your struggle to grab your apartment keys. You thank him and rummage through your purse, grabbing your keys.

“It's not a problem, Y/N. We haven't hung out in a while,” Hyunjin mentions while shrugging his shoulders.

His words remind you of your situation with Chan, making the smile slip from your lips. “At least you've made the effort,” you say bitterly, unlocking your door.

You take your bags from Hyunjin and walk into your apartment. He follows closely behind you, shutting the door behind him. “I know you don't want to hear this, but Chan's got a reason for all of this,” he defends his friend, plopping himself on your couch.

“What reason could he provide?” You ask him, slapping your hands against your thighs. “He's had over a month to explain, and he hasn't. Clearly, I'm not that important to him.”

Hyunjin sighs and holds a hand out to you. You take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it gently before making you sit beside him. “It's not my place to tell, but I want you to promise me to hear him out when he decides to explain, okay?” He shakes your hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. “Promise me.”

You stare into his eyes for about a minute, internally debating on whether it'd be worth it or not. A sigh leaves your lips, and you nod your head yes. “I promise,” you whisper, giving Hyunjin a small smile.

A knock on your door makes both of you turn your heads. Your eyebrows furrow as you're not expecting anyone to drop by. You and Hyunjin stand up before walking towards your apartment door.

“I should get going. I'll see you later, alright?” He pats your shoulder while opening the door.

Chan stands on the other side with a bouquet in his hands. His eyes widen, and he takes a step back as Hyunjin leaves. His younger member pats him as well before leaving the two of you alone.

“Hi,” he greets you with a soft smile, holding out the roses. “I, uhm, I got you these.”

Your cheeks blush, grabbing the bouquet from his hands. “T-Thank you,” you clear your throat. Silence fills the space between you as you keep your gaze on the flowers.

“I'm sorry,” Chan pipes up, making you lift your head. He scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the nervousness in his eyes. “I should've told you what's been going on.”

“Chan,” you sigh, combing your fingers through your hair. “I don't want to talk about this. I know we're best friends, and you have every right to keep secrets from me-”

The brunette pushes his way into your apartment, shutting the door behind him before resting his hands on your arms. “Y/N, please listen to me,” he begs, squeezing your biceps. “I know I've been a shitty friend, but I promise that what I've been doing has a point.”

You bite your lip, peeling some of the dry skin off of it, and nod for him to continue. You lead Chan into your kitchen, setting the roses he bought into a vase.

“I've been working extra to build up some money,” Chan starts while leaning against the counter. You furrow your brows in confusion, and he grabs a hold of your hand quickly. “Not from the job I have now, but something else.”

“Is it illegal?” You whisper, your anger towards him turning into worry.

His eyes drop to your conjoined hands, feeling him squeeze it. “It's not drugs or anything,” he clears up, which makes you feel a little better. “But, it's still illegal.”

“Can you stop being so cryptic?” You ask him, taking a step towards him. “You're making me worried.”

Chan laughs and nods his head. “Why don't I show you? I promise you that it's not totally bad,” he offers, tugging you towards your door.

“Fine,” you cave in, allowing the man to drag you out of your apartment.

Your eyes widen when Chan pulls into a filled parking lot. Many sports cars are on display as groups of people are huddled around each one. “Well, this explains why he has a sports car,” You think to yourself.

“This is what you've been doing?” You ask him as he parks in a spot. “Street racing?”

Chan nods his head while turning the vehicle off. He keeps his neon lights on before turning to look at you. “Yeah. This is where I've been. Uhm, I've been competing in these races, and I'm pretty good,” he chuckles nervously. “If you win, they give you a cash prize of three hundred thousand.”

“Holy shit,” you mumble loud enough for him to hear.

“I wanted to get enough to take you on a trip,” he confesses to you and his cheeks blush, glad that it's dark outside.

Your breath hitches in your throat, staring into his dark eyes. “Really?” You whisper, your heart pounding against your chest.

Chan reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “Yeah,” he mumbles while stroking the back of your hand. “I wanted to take you to Jeju Island and confess my feelings for you.”

A gasp leaves your lips, your free hand covering your mouth. “Channie,” you tear up, squeezing his hand. “Oh, God. I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have acted the way I did.”

“It's okay. You reacted in a way that anyone else would've. Especially after I abandoned our hangouts. I should've told you sooner, but I really wanted to surprise you,” he mentions, pressing a kiss to your conjoined hands.

You reach your hand out, resting it on Chan's cheek. His gaze meets yours, and you see the admiration in his eyes. You smile softly before leaning in to kiss his lips. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone as he kisses you back, deepening it instantly.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips after pulling back slightly. “I'm sorry.”

You shake your head, bringing your hand to his hair. “It's okay. It's behind us now,” you reassure him, resting your forehead on his. “I love you too, Channie.”

He smiles ear to ear, laying one more kiss on you before speaking again. “This is the last race I need to win. You wanna be my good luck charm?” He asks you, his smile turning into a smirk.

You blush at his words but nod your head nonetheless. “Of course I do. But, you don't need a good luck charm if you've already won the others,” you tease, biting your bottom lip.

“Well, maybe I'll need you for this one.”

Chan pulls his vehicle up to the starting line, revving his engine a couple of times. A part of you is extremely nervous since you've never experienced a street race before.

His hand finds a place on your thigh before he gently grips it. “It'll be okay. You'll be safe,” he mentions.

You nod your head as a woman moves in front of the line of seven vehicles. Your hand grips the bar above the passenger door so hard that your knuckles are turning white.

The woman raises the green flag and waits a couple of seconds before dropping it. Chan shifts the gear stick and floors it. A short scream leaves your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You can hear him chuckle beside you as he races the others around him. “You can open your eyes,” he tells you before drifting around a corner.

“Nope!” You squeal as you hold onto the bar tighter.

Chan continues to laugh as he speeds down the semi-empty streets of Seoul. You peek one eye open, and you notice no one in front of you. You release a deep breath and look behind you to see two vehicles not far behind.

“We're really in first?” You ask him, looking over at him.

“Of course,” he smirks, winking at you.

You playfully roll your eyes at how cocky he sounds, lightly slapping his arm. It doesn't take long for Chan to cross the finish line, and he instantly slows down after.

In celebration, Chan does a couple of donuts, and it causes you to release a scream. He laughs and drives into the parking lot, parking the vehicle.

Both of you pile out of the car as people begin to congratulate him. You giggle while watching him bro hug other racers. You walk towards the driver's side of the vehicle, people moving back so you can get through.

Chan smiles at you before picking you up in his arms. Both of you chuckle as he spins you around. Your arms wrap around his neck, dipping down to passionately kiss him.

Cheers and hollers become louder around the two of you. You pull away after thirty seconds, grinning widely. “I'm proud of you,” you whisper to him.

“It's all for you.”

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @luckieleaf @stayconnecteed @tiaxa @yoonrimin @sunny-future @daysofskz-ateez @endzii23 @sweetbutpsychovalkyrie @bunnies-only @sleepyleeji @hhwangsmoon @emily505 @backintomykpopphaseagain

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valeriianz · 1 year

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Thinking about how we, as a fandom, seemed to have forgotten the ridiculousness of the mistletoe tradition. Oh, to be kissed by a stranger under a parasitic plant in public! Why yes, sign Dream up.

Thinking about Hob decorating the New Inn for Christmas. Dream drops in unexpectedly (but certainly not unwelcome) as usual, curious to see Hob draping multicolored lights along the open shelves of liquor behind the bar.

“What are you doing, Hob?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” and Hob would turn back to his work, and Dream would watch, fascinated. Listening to the cheery music playing through the speakers, listening to Hob speak of the centuries past, how the celebration of the Christmas holiday had been pretty steadily thus since the mid 1800’s.

“The pagan holiday?” Dream would inquire, dragging his fingers along the taped up holiday cards along the backsplash of the bar, like moth’s wings stuck out and on display. Some even transferring soft glitter on Dream’s fingers, making him rub them together curiously.

“Well,” Hob would shrug with a grin. “The Christian bastardization of it.”

“Hardly,” Dream mused. “The Romans celebrated Saturnalia in this time, honoring the god with a feast and gifts.”

“No foolin’, eh?”

And, since it was late and Hob was feeling good about the work he’d done, he’d pour Dream a glass of red and offer him a seat, both of them sitting at the bar and admiring the twinkling lights, the smell of pine from the fresh garland, the garish oversized stockings tacked to the walls, and– Dream noticed with puzzlement, a single bunch of berries and leathery leaves hanging from the ceiling in the middle of an archway.

“I do not recognize this.”

Hob followed his friend’s gaze and, “oh,” he’d laugh. But it sounds… off-kilter, nervous or embarrassed.

“It’s mistletoe. Just this– parasitic plant–”

“Why does it have a bow on it?”

“For fun.” Hob would level Dream with a look like, lighten up. Get into the spirit.

“Elaborate.”

And Hob would hmm and haa about this relatively silly tradition about kissing under a mistletoe, how the “rule” had kind of faded away in the past decade or so, but it was still a fun little thing and Hob, ever the purveyor of all things dreadfully human, wants to keep the tradition alive, even if no one really follows along anymore.

And Dream, knowing full well he doesn’t need an excuse to kiss his immortal, very human partner, decides to humor Hob.

He slips from his seat, hearing Hob snicker from behind him, probably knowing full well what he’s about to do, and Dream walks to stand directly under the plant.

The bar is closed, no one else is in the building, but Hob looks around anyway, like there would be anyone else who would take advantage of this opportunity. Dream has to physically bite down a delighted smile as Hob shrugs– well if no one else will– and all but jumps from his stool, slowly walking toward Dream with his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

Without even touching Dream, Hob leans in and pecks him on the mouth.

Dream’s brows rise up to his hairline. “Is that it?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” He points up to the plant above them. "They don’t hang these in public places for full blown make out sessions, you know.”

“Hm…” Dream considers this, and decides if the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe only yields one chaste thing, then he’d have to start collecting them enough to make something substantial out of it.

Cue the ridiculous montage of Hob finding Dream in various locales, venues, anywhere he’s at (even at a holiday staff party) and in all manner of positions, under a mistletoe.

“Was that even there before?” Hob would ask, a red solo cup in his hand and smirking like a fool at the sight of Dream slouching against the wall, a– quite large actually– mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above his head.

“Does it matter?” Dream would counter and Hob would shrug, fair enough, and acquiesce to the plant’s demands. It was a Christmas tradition, after all.

Or Hob entering his office at work and finding Dream draped across his desk, holding a plastic mistletoe that looked like it was bought at a drug store high above his head.

Hob would take a few moments to stand and stare, enamored by this ridiculous creature.

“You know how much I love you?” It’s not what Hob meant to say, he was going to quip something about dramatic Endless and their need for attention, but he’s so gone over Dream that his mouth barely cooperates with his brain in these situations.

Dream would preen, stretching his long legs down so they dangle off the edge of the desk, like a cat sunning himself, shaking the plastic plant for emphasis.

“You could show me.”

This is their new tradition, every Christmas season. Hob finds Dream everywhere in the waking world, distracting Hob, raising eyebrows, and starting up strange rumor mills. But it’s in the privacy of his own home, coming back from work, and finding Dream wailing desperately against the foyer of his kitchen, a planted mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, as usual.

“Oh, Hob Gadling,” Dream would cast an arm over his eyes. “How I’ve waited for you to come back and free me from the spell these dreadful berries have put me under.”

“Okay,” Hob would grin, biting back a laugh. “Would a kiss suffice?”

Dream would be hanging off the wall, his long, rail thin limbs bent at every angle under faux duress.

“Oh! It might do. I feel shackled under this strange power this greenery emanates.”

“Dream of the Endless,” Hob would tease, dropping his bag and taking off his coat as he walks to his impossible lover. “Brought down by a common earthly sprout.”

“Yes, yes, now will you get over here?”

And once Hob is within arms reach, laughing hard enough to wheeze, Dream would grab him by the shoulders and pull him in.

#dreamling #hob x dream #hob gadling #this is very much crack treated seriously #except its not that serious pfft #i saw a tiktok like this and couldnt get Dream dramatically posed against a wall out of my head #its just so him #my writing #the sandman

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lionlena · 2 months

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Dyeing your hair… (Joel Miller x reader) one shot

I just saw this photo and couldn't shake the silly thought of dying Joel's hair.

Summary: In an abandoned shop you found a box with men's hair dye.

Warnings: implied age gape, sweet Joel, just fluff, established relationship, just my silly idea

When you stuffed the dark men's hair dye you found in a ruined store into your backpack, you knew it was stupid. But you couldn't help yourself anyway. You just felt like a child who found a toy. Even tampons didn't make you this happy. When you rejoined Joel, he immediately sensed your mood. Not that he didn't enjoy your good mood. He loved you and hated when you were sad or hurt, but… When you had that… THAT smile on your face, he knew you were thinking of something ridiculous.

"What is that smile?"

You shrugged and shook your head.

"What smile? I'm just glad to see you."

"Yeah, of course…"

He walked up to you and looked at you carefully. He knew you were hiding something from him, but he also knew that sooner or later you would reveal it to him. He shook his head and gently brushed the hair away from your cheek. This tender gesture, even though so trivial, immediately made you feel loved. At times Joel could seem uncaring and harsh, but you knew his heart was soft to you.

"Let's go back home." He said and moved forward with his hand on the rifle.

You followed him happily, jumping up and down at the thought of what you were going to do. You weren't even that concerned about the danger. You always felt safe with Joel.

Once you were in your small, dingy apartment in Boston, you decided to show him your find.

Joel snorted at the sight of the box and frowned.

"What do you need this for?"

You smiled that way again and he subconsciously knew what was coming and grunted.

"NO."

"Oh, Joel."

"NO."

"But…"

"NO."

You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest. You looked at him with puppy eyes. You felt like you weren't defeated yet and you really, really wanted to see what Joel looked like when he was younger and his hair didn't have so many gray streaks.

"We'll do it for fun."

Joel rolled his eyes.

"Play cards for fun."

You moved closer to him and decided to change your tactics. You placed your hands on his chest.

"Jooo… Please, please, pretty please… Pleaseeee…"

You felt him soften as he looked down at you and swallowed.

"God, how old are you? 5?"

You didn't give up and slipped your hands under his shirt.

"We'll play your game later."

You knew you had hit a sweet spot when he placed his hands on your hips and squeezed lightly.

"You don't even know if it will work…"

"Hmm… We won't know if we don't use it."

You stood on your tiptoes and nibbled his beard with your teeth, making him growl.

"Fine!"

You giggled happily and pulled him towards the bathroom. You told him to sit on the toilet and started your work. Joel, of course, kept complaining that it was stupid and ridiculous… And so on, but you saw that little smile on his face because he knew he was making you happy. And he liked it when you were this close to him.

Forty minutes later you could admire your work.

And you were delighted! To you, Joel had always been handsome, but when his hair became darker, he looked so sexy. The dye didn't completely cover his gray hair, but the effect was still stunning. Joel noticed your gaze and smiled.

"How do I look? Are you satisfied?"

You grabbed his waistband and pulled him towards you.

"Satisfied is an understatement…"

Joel growled deeply and pulled you closer to him. He kissed you on the lips and when he pulled away he said:

"Good. Because now it's part of my fun."

He sat down on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, and you didn't resist at all. You grabbed his dark hair and moaned in pleasure. You knew you were in for a wild ride…

And you were already wondering if Joel would be persuaded to return to that abandoned store. You were sure there were two more packages of hair dye on the shelf. *

Permanentny tag list: @harriedandharassed

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #sweet joel #fluff #one shot #tlou fanfiction

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frogchiro · 1 year

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Am I straight horny from reading eremite thirst? Yes. Do I want to dress up in Babel's clothing infront of them? Yes. Yes I do. I mean Babel got some hip windows and I know damn well her clothes are MADE to he ripped off

AS YOU SHOULD BE NONNY

rfhgueguegu I just looked up Babel and good golly please step on me lady

and you're right her clothes are as hot as she is, i'm going genuinely feral for the hip windows, as would the men of your group <3

fem!reader, slight nsfw, the usual drill; hot, big and horny Eremite men having the ultimate hots for you <3

Since you're staying with them permanently now, you decided on incorporating their style and culture into your life and what better to begin with than clothes! You bought them from a traveling merchant during a short stay at the Caravan Ribat before continuing further into the desert.

You had to set up camp for the night and since there has been a successful hunt with minimal damage your boys decided that a small celebration is in place; you could swear that they'd find any excuse to celebrate and make you dance for them so that they could use it as a way to grope you and eventually drag you back into the tent an have their way with you.

SO, you decided that this little gathering is a perfect way to make use of your new dress! It's a bit skimpy but it feels as if it's weightless, the dark gauzy fabric perfectly accentuating your curves and hugging all the right places.

Just as you got the last piece in place, a booming voice just outside your tent made you slightly jump as one of the men announced that they've set up the fire and roast and they're waiting for you which earned you a few loud and excited whoops of delight from the others.

You smiled slightly and made your way to remove the flap of the tent and reveal yourself getting kinda anxious what would they say about your new outfit, would they like it? What if you ended up looking ridiculous and-

Your train of thoughts was immediately brought to a halt when you noticed all the men staring at you, their eye bandanas temporarily removed and looking-or rather leering-right at you.

You noticed the look right away; dark, hungry, lustful, that of predator just about to pounce on a unsuspecting prey. You got bashful as you slowly stepped into the area where they were sitting in silence still, just looking.

Before you could say something to get the out of this trance you let out a yelp as suddenly a pair of strong arms belonging to Geo Enchanter wrapped around your middle and dragged you straight into his lap while the men sitting next to him flocked closer and started to run their hands all over you.

"And just where did ya get this thing Little Lady, hmm~? Think you can just walk dressed like that and expect a man to behave?"

The dark skinned man growled into your ear before nipping it lightly and letting his big scarred hands wander all over your body and slip under the sheer chest piece to tease your quickly stiffening nipples.

"I-ah! I-bought it. From that cloth merchant back at the Caravan Ribat. Y-You were so silent when I walked out, I thought you didn't like it-!"

Your ramble was quickly cut short by a slight swat to your bottom and the booming laughs of the surrounding men; just when did they all get so close?

"Well, ya can be pretty sure we like it, don't we boys?", Sunfrost's quip was answered by delighted calls.

"Then let's show this pretty Lady how much we love it~"

That sentence basically sealed your fate and they took you right then and there, on the laid out on the furs under the shining stars and night sky. When they were finaly finished with you, you were back inside the shared tent, all of the men tired out and panting with fatigue.

Right there in the middle of the sweaty bodies laid your naked form, the beautiful dress torn to shreds earlier in the night by the hungry hands of the Eremites; a shame really, the dress really was pretty but hey! At least you can be sure that your boys liked it too, right~?

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #god I love them #and i love writing for them <3 #hope you like it!#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #eremites x reader

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 1 year

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How would the M6 react to MC being drunk in front of them for the first time? The kind of drunk that changes MC's demeanor, and now they're all giggly and reckless

The Arcana HCs: M6 reacting to a drunk MC

~ I love this request. Also I know some of you are going to read this and wonder what the M6 are like when they get drunk, which is why I'll be reblogging the original creator's response to that question right after I post this! Love you guys - brainrot ~

- to set the scene-

It has been a very, very long Friday and you have never been more ready for the weekend. Unfortunately, by the time you make it back to your living space, you find a little note from your beloved apologizing because they're going to be back later than expected. You sigh, drop your bag onto the table, kick off your shoes and lean back to relax. You had picked up some spiked lemonade on your way back to try with them, but you figure a glass ahead of time wouldn't be too bad. You take a sip and are immediately disappointed by how little alcohol you can taste.

Half an hour and two large glasses later you can feel your head beginning to swim. Surely you aren't drunk, that stuff has next to nothing in it - until you check the label attached to the back and your eyes grow wide at the numbers you read. Just as the humor sets in and you begin to giggle you hear the door open.

"MC? I'm sorry I'm late ..."

Julian

Did he expect to come home to a drunk and giggling MC? No. Is he mad about it? Also no

He can't help it, the first thing he's trying to do is evaluate you. How drunk are you? Will he also be having a few drinks tonight or is he going to be staying sober so you can let loose?

He watches as you follow Malak around the house, trying to mimic his hoarse cawing

Water it is

Come to think of it, this is a fantastic chance to display his theatrical talents. He's always had a knack for comedy

You make one of the best audiences he's had in years. Even the jokes he doesn't deliver as well as he wants to are met with uncontrollable laughter

Will absolutely act out a comedy sketch in one of his stolen wigs, the plot getting increasingly ridiculous as he gets swept away in the moment

Will die of shame the next morning when you start quoting his amphibian-inspired Romeo and Juliette improv around the house:

"Forgive me, father frog, I got the warts from the toad. But how was I to resist him? His croaking was so passionate -"

Asra

When they opened the door and heard your giggles they knew it was a good night

And then he rounded the corner and saw your flushed face and lidded eyes and dopey smile and knew that you were apparently having a really good night

They're just pulling out a chair to pour themselves a drink too when they feel a draft and look up in time to see you marching out the back door

Now he's giggling as he jogs to catch up with you, wondering where on earth drunk you has decided to go at this time of night

The docks, apparently. Their story about Faust in the palace garden maze has inspired you to try the same thing

In the middle of the night

While you are not as sober as you should be to practice life-preserving magic

The problem is that Asra is your best/worst enabler, so if trespassing on the ships to jump off of their masts is what you want to do, then that's what the two of you are doing

Three, if you count Faust

You are absolutely going to get nauseated from all the floating and puke all over him

They had it coming for enabling you, but what they didn't see coming was you pulling them into the ocean for an impromptu bath

Nadia

She's never seen you so drunk before, normally when you drink with her it's at big dinners so you don't even get tipsy

She's wavering on how to respond. Should she partake in whatever delightful brew you've apparently smuggled into the palace?

Or should she dedicate herself to taking care of you instead?

Oh but now you're giggling and collapsing into her lap, asking her about her day -

She's telling you about this one meeting with a certain courtier and now you're interrupting her, arms flung wide as you go on a drunken rant about them

Well. She knew you tended to filter your thoughts in the palace, but she had no idea your opinions were this colorful. Or hilariously stated

Now she's reaching for the bottle of spiked lemonade and pouring you another glass. What other amusing judgments have you been hiding?

Muriel

Will spend the evening taking the most excellent care of you while she prompts you for more rants

Here, lie down in her lap, drink some water, let her give you a massage, and tell her more about your thoughts on the chamberlain's most recent outfit decision, and how it resembled a stoned flamingo

Happy to hear that you're happy, but a little unsure of how to proceed

Were you planning on getting drunk? Did something happen to make you want to get drunk?

Oh, the lemonade was stronger than expected? Ok

Wait no stop trying to climb him. He's not a tree. You're going to bump your head

Oh, now you're wondering outside and loudly singing. And Inanna's going with you because she thinks it's hilarious

He's enjoying this uninhibited side of you but he's concerned for your safety

And for the safety of all the natural wildlife that may encounter you in this state

Wait no don't climb that tree

When did you get so good at climbing trees? He's never even seen you try by yourself before and now you're a good twenty feet up???

Does he climb up after you? How will he convince you to come back down?

"... MC? If you come down, I'll cuddle you."

A moment of silence. Did it work?

All he hears is a faint "catch meee ..." from high above his head before you come hurtling down through the branches

He doesn't know how he survived all the heart attacks you gave him that night

Portia

Immediately inspecting whatever it is that got you so happy. She wants in on your secrets

Spiked lemonade? From that market stall? Haha, no wonder you're plastered

She'll have a little bit, but what she really wants to know is if you'll hear out her crazy ideas for your magic abilities

"MC? Is it possible to do magic while you're drunk?"

She's met with a lopsided grin and an unsteady flash of the funniest looking sparkles she's ever seen

Were those supposed to be ... in the shape of Pepi? Or a sea monster?

Oh, this is going to be so much fun

Takes you out into the garden because she needs to know if Cinderella's pumpkin coach can actually happen (one of her guilty reading pleasures)

You come up with some abomination consisting of several squash, a whole mess of vines, and one terrified rat

The two of you end up going on a joyride through the fields behind the palace, lurching violently in all directions

There is now a rumor of the menacing giggling cryptid that wanders through the fields at dusk, scattering chunks of ravaged gourd

Lucio

Party time? Party time!!

Already loudly praising your drinking habits as he starts gulping straight from the bottle

Maybe he would savor it normally, but you started without him so now he needs to catch up

He makes the same mistake you did, of not reading the label and assuming it was weak, and the bottle is empty in minutes

"You know MC, I'm kinda surprised something that weak got you that smashed ohhhhh wait a minute -"

He just stood up and is now swaying in place, startled by the headrush

And then he hears you snorting with laughter at yourself as you try to tell the worst dad joke he's ever heard

Normally at this point he'd be caught up in the frenzy of an out of control party, what's he supposed to do when it's just the two of you?

Except you told the punchline first, and then the beginning, but now you're kind of backtracking through the middle, and you're breathless with giggles, and he's laughing too

That's it, that's how the rest of the night goes, ruining all of your favorite jokes and laughing until you're nauseated and his mascara is streaming down his cheeks

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana shitpost #the arcana fluff #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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crownedghostprince · 4 months

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"Please, rest your eyes with me.."

Loki x Stressed!Reader

Fandom: Marvel

(Y/N) had been working very long hours after being given a co-worker's workload for the week on top of her own work. Presentations, emails to important clients and sponsors, meetings, reports and all of that again, but for her sick co-worker. It's been a couple of days. No sleep, small and nutritious meals, and too many phone calls. Loki grew concerned with his lover and decided to make sure they finally rested for the night.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): Overly sweet. Pure fluff, no smut. There's a bathing together scene, but it's fluff. I repeat: fluff <3

Note: Reader is a woman :)

Word Count: 1,509

[Third Person Perspective]

(I couldn't find a source for this on Pinterest. But his expression is fantastic <3)

The sound of tapping and clicking was Loki's usual ambiance for the past couple of days now. Well, to be more specific, it was the sound of keyboard typing. His beautiful girlfriend had been working hard with no sleep and terrible take-out meals for a couple of days and Loki had been too busy to fully realize until now. The hard-work his significant other was putting in had simply been background ambiance as he darted back and forth between rooms trying to help Stark organize another party whilst Stark was actively fighting with Rogers.

So Loki being the newest Avenger was forced to run back and forth, helping the two to plan the party without a huge argument. This also meant that Loki had to keep the peace, write lists of different things both 'manchilds' wanted at the party, do some decoration planning with Natasha and keep his promise to Thor by spending an afternoon in town together. The past two days had been hectic, but Loki managed to survive - albeit very tiredly. Now he finally had a chance to settle down and enjoy a nice rest day. Except...he couldn't relax.

He had hoped his lover would take a few ten minute breaks here and there. Maybe take a break whilst eating. Perhaps not take her phone to the bathroom to continue working. Not only to have a small minute break, but for hygienic reasons as well. Loki made a mental note to carefully wipe over her phone later. Sadly, (Y/N) continued to work hard at her laptop, typing up presentations and then jumping to answer emails and then jumping back to the presentation. Yesterday, Stark said she had done a very long report on the many benefits of a small coffee shop that connects to the office.

Something as ridiculous as that seemed unbelievable to Loki. But considering how some midguardians loved their useless work and fancy little reports, he eventually believed Stark wasn't lying. To Loki it was simple: if a major corporation wanted a tiny, cheap, coffee shop? Then they would just build it with their vast amounts of money and make that quick profit. But according to Stark those mortals loved making sponsors pay for it instead. Millionaires that kept the business from using their own money on literally anything.

Millionaires that needed to be persuaded into putting a couple thousand dollars into a small project by fancy looking graphs, reports and who knows what else. Gosh, just sitting there thinking about all that had given him a headache. He checked the time and decided that 10:00pm was far too late for (Y/N) to be working. Loki stood up, stretched his aching arms a bit and headed straight to the kitchen. If his darling angel wasn't going to finish work and rest on her own, he would make her.

Loki made two very sweet, hot cups of tea, grabbed an advil and sat in front of (Y/N). "Here you go, my love. You've been working for so many hours you missed dinner tonight." He spoke softly.

"Oh, wow. The time sure went by fast." (Y/N) sighed out, stretching her arms a bit and accepting the much needed cup of tea. "Thank-you, Loki. This is delicious." She smiled and visibly relaxed from the soothing sweetness.

"I'm delighted to hear that. I was going to play some music and enjoy a nice bath. Would you please join me? I dearly miss your company." Loki did his best to sound suave and inviting in hopes (Y/N) would accept rather than work more. He just needed to get her away from the laptop for some rest for at least one night. At her current rate, she'd just faint from exhaustion and run herself into the ground and Loki wanted desperately to avoid that.

"Oh, Loki. You know I would love to join you, but I've got so much work right now...I don't know if I can afford to spend time away from these slides." She strained her eyes to look back at the blaring screen. She didn't even have a blue light filter on...or dark mode...she could be so silly sometimes. But Loki smiled fondly.

"Just for a few minutes, darling? Please? For me?" He tucked some strands of hair out of her face and met her gaze with a pout she couldn't say 'no' to.

"Oh...alright, you and your adorable face..." She sighed in defeat, "Just let me fix this up and save this and I'll join you." She returned to the screen one more time and Loki watched the clock with a mental timer of five minutes. He moved quickly and got the bath ready with warm water, a sleepy scented candle, he changed the bathroom light to a soft orange and grabbed the softest cloth he could find in the bathroom. Finally, he turned on (Y/N)'s favourite, calm songs and played them on low from a speaker in the bathroom.

Next, he went to her room and pulled out her most comfortable t-shirt and pants, grabbing her towel as well and then headed back to the bathroom after grabbing his own things. He returned after five minutes of setting up the bath and tapped her on the shoulder. "It's been five minutes, please finish that last graph and save, darling. The bath is ready and warm."

"Oh, already? Alright, I'll finish this and save." She promised. She worked on the graph for another minute and once it was finished Loki quickly intervened before she could move onto another unfinished graph. He gently placed his hand over hers, gaining back her attention, and he slowly dragged the cursor to the save icon before minimizing the screen.

"Come, darling. Let's get you into some nice clean clothes that will hopefully be more comfortable than your work attire." (Y/N) stared up at him before slowly registering what he said and finally looking down at her clothing. She had completely forgotten she was even in her work clothes still. She simply nodded and followed Loki to the bathroom for what she thought would be a quick bath and then back to work. But Loki had other plans: making sure she slept.

His plan went exactly as he had expected. The soft, orange light would help her brain wind down from the constant blue light that definitely disrupted her brain's sleeping pattern. The soft music she would play to fall asleep with, the sweet tea settling in her stomach, the warm bath water and the sweet scented candle. He made sure to scrub the soap in gently and take his time.

She leaned back against him and sighed against his chest, feeling sore from sitting hunched over, but overall she was relaxed. Her eyes grew heavy and harder to keep open until they slowly drifted shut. Loki carefully carried her out of the water and wrapped her up in her fluffy towel whilst he drained the bath water and made sure to tidy everything up. She was still awake, desperately fighting sleep so she could get back to work. But her body wouldn't cooperate. She was exhausted.

Loki finished drying her and helped her dress. He brushed her hair back into a neat plait and made sure she brushed her teeth. He washed up as well and then lead her to the bedroom for a good night's rest. At this point, she was too tired to fight back. But she still attempted. "No....Loki..." She whined. "I have to get back to work now..." She groaned.

"Please, rest your eyes with me..." Loki hushed her stubbornness. "...Just for a few minutes, love. For me?"

"Fine...like...five minutes.." She groaned and stumbled into bed, almost falling asleep immediately.

"Thank-you, love. I've missed your company." Loki laid down beside her and pulled the covers up, turning on some rainy ambiance and pulling her into a cuddle - spooning her with an arm draped across her waist.

Hearing a soft groan and sigh, he smiled and kissed the top of her head. His plan was successful and he felt very proud of his lover for being such a hard-worker. He also felt very proud of himself for remembering how to help a mortal unwind after a long day. The orange light and soft music was all Stark's advice when Loki had first started dating (Y/N). Apparently midguardians brains worked slightly differently to Asgardians, and needed help to slow down to sleep.

Once soft snores and little bits of strange sleep talk drifted from his lover, he knew she was fast asleep. He finally allowed himself to sleep for the night as well. "Goodnight, love." He whispered, half asleep. "I love you."

"...Love you...too..." She spoke back - still dead asleep. Talking in one's sleep was still an interesting phenomenon to Loki, but he'll have to ask about that at some other time. For now, he was quite content to just cuddle his lover and drift off into sweet dreams.

#loki x reader #fanfiction #comfort #stressed reader #fluff #x reader #comforting myself #writing this fic made me feel better

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aurorawest · 2 months

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I finished The Mars House last night and have been trying to gather my thoughts beyond ADJFAWEHDHA; and AHHHHHHHH. Let's see how this works out.

In a lot of ways this is a pretty typical Natasha Pulley book, which makes you love complicated people who have done bad things, possibly for good reasons and possibly not. The love interest is to all appearances a xenophobic nationalist, but you better believe I loved Gale pretty much immediately.

In other ways this book is different from her past work—obviously there's the far future setting, but it's pretty clear that Pulley wanted to Say Something about gender with The Mars House. This book is a response to and shots fired at the terf ideology and it is not at all subtle about it. And of course, it's a Natasha Pulley book, so there's still empathy for the far-future Martian terfs.

So I would definitely call it the most...political? of her books, which for me was not at all a bad thing. It has everything that I love about Pulley novels—her gorgeous use of language, her ability to wring beauty and pathos out of the small and ordinary, the gay pining, the morally dubious main characters. I've seen reviews say both that the science is ridiculous and that the book is hard science fiction, and I would come down on the side of the science probably being a bit ridiculous, since it's definitely not hard science fiction (lol at the reviewers who are throwing that term around and not knowing what it means). I actually have no idea if the science is plausible or not and I honestly don't care, because that's really not the point of the book.

Anyway, now I'm just going to list things. Doing a read more for spoilers! And I'm not joking, I'm going to spoil the whole book under here so really, if you haven't read it and you care about that, don't keep reading.

The worldbuilding was so good. I mean, this is one of Pulley's strengths, but I had wondered how it would stack up in a sci fi novel versus her historical fiction. As usual, everything was so visceral and textured. Tharsis and Songshu feel like real places I could visit.

THE MAMMOTHS OMG OMG. When they decided to ask the mammoths for help pulling up the gravity train, I almost jumped up from the couch yelling (I would have, but I couldn't disturb my cat who was on my legs). The entire idea of communicating with mammoths and studying mammoth society almost made me cry. Having spent even a tiny amount of time around elephants in the wild, all of that rang 100% plausible. And true in my heart.

I need a sequel where River and January go to Alpha Centauri to talk to the aliens that the Penglai mission is going to find there.

I'M ABOUT TO SPOIL THE ENTIRE BOOK SO DON'T READ ANYMORE IF YOU DON'T WANT THAT.

Speaking of River, yeah I guessed that "Aubrey" was actually River. The clues were well done and I felt smug when I was right.

But!! I actually thought River knew more than they did! A literal chill went up my back when River revealed they had NO IDEA AUBREY WAS LITERALLY IN THEIR ROOM WITH THEM.

The scene in River's bathtub had me screaming crying throwing up.

Is Natasha Pulley working through something re: waifish orphans? I knew Yuan was going to end up being adopted into House Song within pages of their (his?) introduction.

I love that we never find out if River is biologically male or female. I love that January says it doesn't matter and he means that and never tells us.

Speaking of gender abolition, can I have that please for myself.

All of the animals were, as always, a delight. Shoutout to the puffin at the beginning who we never see again, as well as Shuppiluliuma in her basket.

The ancient Mediterranean references littered through this book (see above) were also a delight.

When you think about it, both of Aubrey's consorts fell for River, and that's funny.

The flashes of love between River and Aubrey were devastating.

The haptic implants are a dystopian nightmare and absolutely a realistic prediction of where we're going to end up.

Mori and Daughter!!

#the mars house #natasha pulley #reading tag

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andrastesgrace · 11 months

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Mara Jade + tooka cats

There are two Luke Skywalkers.

The farmboy-turned-flyboy in him is a crack shot, can diagnose a problem with her ship faster than any mechanic in the core, and is wickedly funny, when he wants to be. When he remembers he can be.

The Jedi, though - the one who is allergic to colors and smiling, the one who has apparently forgotten that he isn't even thirty years old yet - is a gifted mediator, a skilled warrior, and much to Mara's eternal annoyance, usually right.

He's also a little shit. She'd almost jumped out of her skin last week in her Coruscant docking bay when he just. Appeared. Behind her. Wearing that stupid passive expression and looking at her expectantly, as though she shouldn't have sworn in three languages and nearly sliced him in half with his own father's lightsaber.

"If only someone were willing to train you," he said with a completely straight face. "You might've seen that coming."

Mara called him a bastard, then, and he grinned. She threw a spanner at his head for good measure, but he just stepped aside and asked her if she was hungry.

They ate ribenes from a cart in the lower city, and didn't talk about his thinly veiled request.

He asks less, now, and she's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed. Since the beginning, he's always asked, even back when she wasn't sure if she still wanted to kill him or not. But now, as then, she's wary. Not of him, not really. She's run through every scenario in her head, and she doesn't really think he'd ever truly become a danger. But he also doesn't want to listen to her, either, when she suggests that perhaps, some Jedi teachings of the past should stay in the past.

Deep down, there's something that makes her uncomfortable about the way he can just. Switch off his entire personality like the press of a button. He would never hurt her, but sometimes he isn't him.

So instead of becoming his student, she devotes her time to becoming a pain in his ass. Annoying him is the quickest way to shake him out of it. At first it's just little things - mispronouncing the names of famous podracers, putting pepper in his tea, and once, conspiring with R2-D2 to play nothing but Nemoidian showtunes everywhere he went.

"You're doing this on purpose," he says blithely one afternoon, and she looks at him with an innocent. "Who me?" in her expression. After a while, she needs more ammunition. She means to ask Solo, but when she hunts down the office he never uses in the New Republic's shiny new military complex, Leia is there instead. "Tooka cats," says Leia after she explains her mission.

"Tooka cats?" "He can't even look at them without laughing," The corners of her lips turn up in a half-smile. "Something about the eyes." *** "Are you proud of yourself?" he says when she sees him later, the grin still lingering in his eyes as he lets himself onto the Jade's Fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She does. She watched it on the holos, the emergency channel on his datapad pinging as he stood in the background of some very important New Republic something-or-other. The first time, he managed to keep a straight face, but only just. But she didn't just have one. She wasn't an amateur. All in all, she sent him about thirty of the most ridiculous pictures of tooka cats that she could possibly find. They were naturally funny looking creatures - a little too creepy for her taste, with their beady eyes and claws, but something about them made Skywalker take one look at them and forget he was a Jedi at all. The sight of him bursting into giggles on live broadcast while Mon Mothma was trying to give a Very Important Speech is going to keep her going for *years.*

"You're a menace," he says, dropping down next to her where she's examining her ship's tractor beam manifold. Thing's been malfunctioning for months.

"I'm a delight."

Skywalker is quiet for a moment. His bright blue eyes catch on the faulty wiring she's been attempting to finagle into working order since she landed here, and he absently grabs a spanner and begins tinkering.

This close, she doesn't have to reach to feel the shifting current of his emotions. "You are," he says softly. A few twists of his hand and a couple of button presses, and the tractor beam's diagnostics panel is all green. Showoff. "I wish you'd let me train you," he says finally, setting the spanner down beside him. There are no accusation in the words, but she feels the lingering merriment in the Force give way to a dull loneliness. Mara knows why he keeps asking, and it's not because she's any great Jedi talent. She's...fine at it, she supposes, but Skywalker is asking for one thing when he needs another. "I'd be an awful student," she says finally, bumping her shoulder with his, and he gives her his own version of Leia's half-smile . "But I guess I should probably make sure you aren't dead from time to time." He chuckles, and shakes his head. "Yeah, you're my best friend, too."

#fanfic #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfic #Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade #luke/mara #mara jade #as it turns out #more than 20 years later #I am still LukexMara trash

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foolishlovers · 3 months

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hello my dearest jane!! i was wondering whether you had any friends-with-benefits fic recs? thank u 💛

lily i'm so glad u asked me, of course i have some for u 🥰 Agnes' Family Assortment by TawnyOwl95 (E, 15k) The devil’s flat (flat 6, Garden Court, 66 Eden Close, London) has been sold at last! Agnes, the resident mother hen, has plans for both her sultry new neighbour, and the lonely angel who lives in the attic flat upstairs. She is not as subtle as she thinks though, and her neighbours fight back. Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by summerofspock, NaroMoreau (E, 35k) Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one? Flowers From The Grave Of Our Friendship by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 50k) Crowley is very good at temptation, not so good with what comes afterwards. Aziraphale knows demons don't love so he is happy to take anything Crowley would give him. Both of them are too blind to realize the thing they want is right in front of them. Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E, 51k) The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so. South Downs by summerofspock (E, 79k) Blackballed from the industry ten years ago, Anthony Crowley jumps at the chance to star in a new Regency romance miniseries with well-known gay actor Aziraphale Fell in the hopes that it will help him restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley has played all sorts of characters and for the life of him, he can't figure out why he's struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

#i literally got excited like a kid on christmas seeing ur ask theheh #love giving fic recs thanks for asking me 💜#good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic #good omens human au #aziracrow #aziracrow fic #aziraphale x crowley #good omens #foolish recs

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

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Wrapping Paper Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Girl attempts to write cute holiday story about fictional metalhead, spends more time justifying her ridiculous wrapping paper collection. Contains: Charlie Brown, empty threats, youthful tomfoolery. Word Count: 700ish

"You think you've got enough wrapping paper?"

You hadn't heard him come in, but you smile at the amused voice coming from behind you.

"You can never have enough wrapping paper."

You're sitting on the floor of your living room, surrounded by at least twenty rolls of colorful wrapping paper, along with scissors, tape, tags, and two stacks of gifts. A large and neatly wrapped pile to your right, a much smaller scattering of unwrapped gifts to your left. You'd been at this all morning.

A stack of Christmas movies sits by the VCR, A Charlie Brown Christmas playing quietly in the background. You have the house to yourself today, so you're taking the opportunity to get all your reindeer in a row out in the open, rather than lugging all the wrapping supplies to your room.

You knew Eddie would be dropping by, so his gifts had been wrapped first. You might even let him shake one if he asks nicely.

"You're joking, right?" He carefully makes his way through the chaos you've created.

"Do you not wrap presents? Please don't tell me you're a bag person. Bags are no fun, Munson. They practically encourage peeking."

"Like… bags from the grocery store?"

"Oh my god."

He chuckles, knowing that you're rolling your eyes at him even though you haven't turned to face him yet.

He drops into a cushioned chair near the wrapped pile to your right, finally entering your eyeline. He's still wearing his jacket, and the tip of his nose is red. Must be cold out today.

"Why do you need so much wrapping paper?"

"It's pretty. It's super cheap after Christmas. It'd be boring if all the presents looked the same. I have a lot of stuff to wrap. Among other reasons."

"Other reasons?"

"Yup. I'll show you when I'm done."

He huffs and nudges the wrapped presents with his foot. "Which one's mine?"

"You have no appreciation for the art of gift wrap, so yours is going in a plain brown grocery store bag."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?"

"…no?"

"Ask me nicely," you prompt as you fill out a gift tag and place another box on the finished pile.

"For what?"

"Ask me nicely for pretty wrapping paper."

He rolls his eyes dramatically and drops to his knees in one impressive move, hands clasped together like some serious begging is about to go down. "Please, oh please, for the love of all that is Christmas, won't you please wrap my gifts in shiny, pretty paper?" He bats his eyelashes.

You narrowed your eyes, pretending to consider it. "Ehhh… alright. But only because you're cute when you beg."

He grins and returns to his chair, turning his attention back to the TV as you reach for the final unwrapped gift.

You smile and shake your head at the delightful silliness of this conversation, scissors slicing through a pretty Santa pattern with satisfying ease. You wrap your last present, slap a bow on it, and silently survey the mess you've made. Scanning the piles of debris, your eyes land on an empty wrapping paper tube, nearly buried beneath a mountain of paper scraps. A grin worthy of The Grinch forms on your face.

Watching Eddie out of the corner of your eye, you slowly reach for the cardboard tube with your left hand, feeling another beside it. Perfect. You discreetly slide one toward you.

As Linus begins to explain what Christmas is all about to Charlie Brown and Eddie Munson, you carefully lift your weapon… and bonk him across the knees.

He jumps and stares at you like you'd just sprouted antlers.

"Did you just…?"

"Yup."

A mischievous glint appears in his eye.

A few minutes later, your mother returns from her shopping trip to the sound of a yelp. She places her bags on the kitchen table as a series of a strange thumps and wild cackling erupts from the living room. She cautiously approaches, having no idea what she's about to walk into.

Two teenagers, armed with cardboard swords, are laughing like they've never had more fun in their lives. Bonking each other with no mercy. Surrounded by the debris of what appeared to be a Christmas tornado.

She covers a smile and returns to the kitchen. Let the kids have their fun. As long as they clean up after.

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x christmas #writings of despair #please be gentle this is my first fic #there's a decent chance i'm going to pass out when i finally click 'post'

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furious-rogue-stuff · 10 months

Note

CONGRATULATIONS!!!! Your trully really deserve it!! So can I request 🗡🥺🐣please?

Sending u love and hugs🫶🏻🫶🏻

My dear friend! I'm sorry for the ridiculous wait on this, but I finally got around to this wonderful prompt. This is my first time writing Pero Tovar, so I hope I've done him justice.

Thanks, as always, to @just-here-for-the-moment for putting up with my ass and beta reading to make sure this wasn't complete trash and smutty enough.

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Spanish woman, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 6,500+

🚨Author chooses not to include detailed warnings, but the following: Mentions of marriage, impersonating a soldier, past violence, scars and war wounds, breeding kink, graphic depictions of unprotected sex, and period-accurate tropes.

Yearn

The air outside was crisp with chill, making it all the more pressing for him to traverse the muddy road towards the small cottage. The smoke from the stone chimney signaled you’d started a fire for supper, and the twinkle of candlelight from the condensation-covered window facing outward to the road and frosty meadow beyond told him you’d intended to keep your promise from that morning.

The gnaw of hunger had settled in from the long day of labor, but the ache behind his sternum was one of longing, one he’d been nursing since the day before, and it took precedence over any need to fill his belly. He quickly trotted the steed into the rickety barn he’d yet to get around to patching the holes in the roof of, and once the animal was stabled, he trudged determinedly up to the door of the cottage.

He entered quickly and shut the chill out behind him, dark eyes adjusting to the dim lighting once he furrowed his brow and loped towards the weathered hearth. The steps that led to the loft above, where your marital bed was housed in a snug, insulated nook, were empty, and the table was already set with bread and wine while the savory stew kept warm in the caldero tucked near the fire. Yet, no sign of you.

“…Are you aloft already, condesa?” Pero speaks firmly, so his query can be heard clearly from above.

There is no answer, so he paces towards the steps, senses on high alert now. His instincts bellow for him to retrieve his sword from whence it’s stored, hidden in a nearby trunk, or to at least unsheathe the hidden blade he keeps on his person. He palms the handle of his dagger, tucked in its scabbard at the back of his leather belt underneath his well-worn poncho. His expression becomes stony, scar over his left eye resembling an etching, one that reveals the capacity of brutality suffered and meted out in return.

It's the soft flutter of clothing he hears first before he sees the movement from the shadowed corner that has him pivoting and effortlessly catching you as you leapt out at him from your stealthy ambush spot – the pantry cubby you’d climbed up into and waited for the right moment to pounce.

“Gotcha!” he growls triumphantly as he swings you around with impish delight, making you encircle your arms to hold onto his broad shoulders while you squeal mirthfully whilst your tunic skirts flutter about. “Trying to get the jump on me? Really, tigresita?!”

Not to be foiled completely, you wrap your legs around his hips and toss yourself backwards, creating a momentum that forces him to swing around until he’s able to break both your falls onto the bench you’d improvised using two bales of hay and an old tapestry draping you’d found discarded upstairs.

Pero lands with an exhaled huff, and you victoriously use his distraction to grab his thick wrists and pin his arms above his head.

“Bueno, I’ve bested the great guerrero, the most fearsome man with a blade, who said I was too noisy for my own good to ever get the drop on him, was it?” you’re gloating as you stare sultrily into his sardonic, handsome expression. “Well? Do you yield?”

“You are much too playful for me to try besting, my love, so…” Pero draws in that graveled rumble of his, musing and melodic before he suddenly bucks you off of him and rolls to pin you under him instead. “No, I do not yield.”

You scoff haughtily, arching a smug brow as you chime, “Good, because this is where I wanted to end up anyway.”

“Oh, is that right?” he husks, unable to muster the faux scowl any longer, so he smirks and croons in that bass-filled melodic murmur, one that always sets your nerve endings on fire, as he intensely stares into your eyes. “You wanted to end up on your back and underneath the tired and dirty mercenary-turned-farmhand that’s made you his wife? Well, I should hope so, mi amada.”

You smile enchantingly at him and arch your hips up into his. “It is so, mi marido,” is your silky purr as you lean up and brush your soft lips over his.

Pero grunts approvingly and deepens the kiss, hand cupping your jaw possessively as he plunders the cup of your mouth with his voracious tongue.

Equally as possessive are your hands as they grope and cling to his thick tunic under his poncho before eagerly shoving upwards in order to tug at his undershirt in an attempt to slip beneath to touch his skin. He smells of soil, grain and leather, musky scent heightened by his salty sweat. It makes your head spin with lust, and has arousal cloying from your center. His mouth is warm, and you ache to feel his powerful and overheated body against your bare skin as he presses into you with need.

You are desperate to undress him, and he realizes how much so when you dig your heels into the back of his trousers and groan into his mouth a pleading command.

Breaking the kiss, Pero pants against your gasping mouth before grumbling, “What was that?”

“I said I want you inside me now, Pero,” you airily repeat, the tone of your demand though is softened by your excitement now that he’s pointedly ground his arousal into your tingling center. “Mmm, please—”

“Such a needy little thing, begging so,” he chuckles ruggedly, timbre hitting that octave that has desire beseechingly pulsing in the seat of your core. His dark eyes crinkle as if he can sense how aroused you are, and just as you whine for him to comply, he slips a hand between your bodies and hikes it up the front of your skirts to cup you at the haven of your thighs. “And here I thought you were simply keeping your promise to wait up for me, no matter how late my return from the merchants. But instead, you try to best me into submission so you can have me fill this warm cunt, eh?”

His fingers trace along the crest of your sex before gliding along your warm, wet seam, parting your folds just as his thumb presses into the hood of your clit. “Ah, Pero!” you whimper, hands clutching at his sides and gripping sturdy fabric as you roll your hips, seeking the plunge of his fingers into your sheath. “Please—”

He revels in how desperate you are for him, so he presses his luck by testing how far his depraved desires can muster getting you to that fine line of wanting to give into your urge to be dominated versus having dominion to ensnare him into succumbing to his own needs.

So, he licks your plump bottom lip before grazing his teeth over it licentiously.

At your gasp and jolt against his edging fingers where you ache for them, Pero mutters coolly, “Is that all you can say, condesa? My fierce little noblewoman-turned-warrior can’t use her words when her sweet cunt is touched?”

The way your eyes sharpen is exactly what he wanted just before he plunges two thick fingers inside you.

You moan that glorious sound of pleasure that makes him feel like he’s touched the sun and it’s filled him with grace, and the beatific expression of rapture that comes over your lovely face has him straining in his trousers to replace his fingers with his cock.

But, he persists in this carnal play, and coos, “Look at you, bebita. It’s almost like you’ve yearned for my touch all day—”

“Pero,” you whine when he finger-fucks you slowly while taunting you so. He chuckles at the pleading way you arch up into him, so you dig your nails into the layers until you can feel his solid torso, and hiss, “No me tortures, por favor—”

His musing hum is rich and earthy, and to your aroused senses, it’s like a warm wine hitting your bloodstream. Feeling his broad, strong frame pressed over you, and the teasing prod of his ramrod cock only heightens your need, as does the musky smell of him, the sweat that clings to his skin and the heat of his mouth grazing along your cheek now.

Scenting your hair by nosing into the locks at your temple, Pero laconically rumbles, “I’d never torture you, sweet girl. I just want you to be mi tigresita valiente and admit you’ve been in heat for me, that you’ve been thinking unchaste thoughts all day—”

He feels your molten sheath clench around his fingers at his words, but the defiance is starting to scintillate in your eyes before you snap thinly, “And what sort of filth have you been thinking, husband?”

Pugnaciously, he smirks like a cunning tentador before husking, “Oh, this very thing. Of having my fingers in your warm cunt – making you restless and insolent, desperate to have my cock inside you instead.”

At the indolent pump of his fingers changing to a pleasurable curl that brushes the digits against the nested pleasure point inside you, a gasped mewl falls from your mouth as you writhe up into him.

“I thought about all the ways I’ve given you pleasure, and all the ways I still intend to give you pleasure,” he tells you in that damnable aloof way that makes you burn and melt. “Tell me one naughty little ember that’s kept you hot like this all day, esposa, and I’ll put my mouth on you until you reach bliss on my tongue.”

With a proposition like that? You are turned to clay, features heating from your blush as you confess, “I thought about you, undressed before me, and letting me worship your body with my hands and mouth before getting bare for you so you could make me yours by the fire.”

His fingers pause inside of you and he looks at you with unfettered hunger in his dark eyes.

You expect him to shift up so he could make that fantasy a reality, but instead, he grunts – as if placated, before receding his fingers from you, crawling down your body to bunch up your skirts so he can bury his face between your thighs.

The lascivious swipe of his tongue through your drenched folds has you gasping and hiking your knees up to make room for his broad shoulders, writhing in ecstasy as Pero devours your cunt and rubs his fingers over the hood of your pleasure point. He groans when your thighs squeeze around him, and chuckles against your mound when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug.

The look he shoots up at you from below his brow while he nuzzles shamelessly into the heady curls above your sex makes your pulse spike with exhilaration, and when he shifts your wool-stocking-covered legs further apart for him to angle your pelvis further up to better access your honeyed cunt, you groan imploringly, “Mi amor,” and bite your trembling bottom lip.

It’s exactly what he wanted.

He is unabashed and libidinous with his mouth after he bows his head between your thighs once more, and true to his word, you’re climaxing in minutes on his tongue while you ride his rapacious appendage and grip the thick tufts of dark hair at the crown of his head with one hand whilst moaning blissfully into the back of the other.

The deliriously exquisite feeling that washes over you is divine, and you sigh softly while he laps at your climax and grunts, as if satisfied with your state of euphoria.

So, when you feel cool air between your thighs, your eyes glossily open to stare dazed up at him, confused as he looms over you and grumbles a humored, gloating hum before popping his sullied fingers into his mouth and sucking your slick orgasm off.

He then stands from the makeshift bench and declares, “I want to eat,” before pivoting to lope unhurriedly to the wooden stool nearest the table so he can plunk down on it and scoot it closer to the fireplace to dutifully stir the stew with the ladle.

You’re flabbergasted.

Sitting up on your elbows to gape – comically appalled – at him, you watch as he serves himself a bowl of the savory stew while trying to keep the wry grin from pulling at his full lips. He fails miserably though when he looks over at you with that droll expression on his features before he smiles behind the bowl he raises to his lips. It does little to conceal his goading amusement, and you’re glaring at him now that your wits have returned to you.

Once he’s had a few hearty sips of the flavorful meal, he gruffly drawls, “Come stay warm by the fire, mi amada.”

You decide then that two can play this game.

Straightening your tunic skirts down and squeezing your knees together, you sit on the edge of the improvised bench and start unfastening the corseted vest that keeps your tunic and smock cinched to your form.

“I am already very warm, thank you,” is your blithe lilt as you stand and shed the vest.

Pero turns to watch you with clenched jaw as you remove the dark top tunic, leaving you now in just the green smock and a thin pale linen chemise that teases the shape and ample swell of your breasts. You can feel his eyes on you as you shimmy out of the smock next, leaving you now in just the chemise that hits just above your ankles. The glow from the fireplace hits the light linen and creates a spritely silhouette of your curvy, supple form hidden beneath, and when you hike up the hem just enough to allow you to adjust a wool stocking back up to your knee, you finally look over at him and smile.

“How is the stew?”

“…Come here.”

“Is it not to your liking, my love?”

“…Come here, mujer.”

“Do you prefer mead over wine with it?”

“…I prefer for you to cease teasing me so and come sit with me,” Pero tells you in a guttural croon as he sets his bowl aside on the table and holds his hand out to you in an assertive petition.

You feign meekness as you susurrate, “You said you wanted to eat, though. I am loath to disturb your meal—”

“Come sit on my lap and eat with me already. You’ve made your point,” he yields in a snarky huff, but the smile in his eyes is evident before they crinkle from the appeased smirk that warms his chiseled features when you slyly grin and saunter over to him.

He swoops you into his lap before you’ve completely maneuvered around, and you scoff sassily at him as you loop your arms around his shoulders. He nuzzles into your neck and fondles his big, warm hands along your curves, making you sigh dreamily and lean into him.

“Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Hm. Next time, you fill your belly first. Don’t wait on my account, ternura.”

“I will, precioso,” you retort affectionately, earning the expected eye roll and dubious snicker from him. “No seas tan gallardo, y come,” is your fussy quip as you grab his bowl, maneuver nimbly in his lap to reach for the ladle and add more stew to it before handing the bowl to him so you can grab a piece of bread and tear a chunk off to add in as well.

He smirks broadly, so much so that his boyish dimple is unearthed from his right cheek. “No seas tan porfiada y come, condesa,” is his dashing counter, putting the bowl into your hands before grabbing the other from the table to serve himself some stew.

You eat together, and you enjoy the warmth of his body as you remain perched on his lap while he leans his back into the wall and gorges himself. He asks where you sourced the meat that’s in the stew, and is proud when you tell him about the rabbit traps you set. You’re resourceful and smart, cunning, yet tender-hearted. It makes something warm and vast expand in his chest, having you be his, and how content you are to belong to him.

Once the ache in his belly is quieted, he licks his lips before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, eyeing you intensely as you sip from the shared cup of wine.

He belongs to you, too. It stirs blazing desire in him, and fills him with serenity, knowing he’s yours, and how fiercely you made it so.

The longing of before tugs at his heart now as he’s reminded of how you’d sat opposite him the evening prior, balancing the small tyke on your knee as you’d both shared dinner at the farmer’s homestead. The former soldier had settled this land years prior, married, and started a family. Winter had been fast approaching, and after a chance encounter with the man on the road, you’d both accepted the offer to board at the vacant cottage on his land, exchanging labor and help prepping for the winter for room and board.

Pero had watched you while the farmer and his wife chattered about the foodstuffs stored earlier and the barley he’d help transport to the merchant market the following morning, how long the journey there and back would be – ‘M’afraid it’ll take up most of the day’ – all while you’d entertained the little one that had become mesmerized by your smile and the silly faces you made to amuse him.

A heavy desire had settled in his chest, one he couldn’t place, until you’d passed the small toddler over to his mother and offered to pick up the infant that had begun to cry in its woven bassinet. Seeing you hold the wailing baby to your chest and rock it softly as you sat back down and showed the mother how to use the feeding bottle that you’d made out of an old clay pot with a spout you’d improvised in order to supplement her milk with that of the cow’s? How gentle you were once the babe was sated and you could maneuver her in your arms to make sure to burp all the gasses out of the little baby before cradling the sweet infant to sleep?

It had suddenly awakened something in him that made him feel clumsy – out of his depth.

He shakes the reveries off when you hum and offer the cup of wine to him.

“Do you want more?”

His features take on that stoic look, becoming marble as he nods and takes the cup to drain it of the remaining wine.

Thinking he’s become weary from the day now, you take the bowls to be set aside for rinsing in the makeshift dish tub you’d fabricated from an old wine barrel.

Pero watches you hesitate before setting the bowls onto the shelf near you, and then turn back towards him to ask gently, “I have clean water. Would you like me to bathe you?”

His scarred brow cocks up at you, sarcastic as he deadpans, “Would you like me to bathe? Do I smell that bad? Is my stink too odious, condesa?”

Mischievous smile lighting up your features, you feign remorse before shaking your head and chiming, “No, not at all. I happen to like your stink, anyway,” at his amused snort, you continue silkily, “I was just thinking you’d like to feel the warm water over your skin. I heated it over the fire once the stew was ready. It’s tepid now, but still nice.”

He grunts as if charmed, then nods and stands to remove the poncho from his shoulders before tossing it over with the rest of your discarded garments. You pleasantly work to maneuver the tub with the clean water across the floor closer to the hearth and end up smiling when he chivalrously comes over and picks it up for you to be set right next to the stool.

“This is poor substitute to the bathhouse, I know—” you begin to chuckle.

“You mean the one you went into while impersonating a soldier? Or the one you snuck into to seduce me?” he counters roguishly as he removes his belt, knife, and tunic next.

“No, travieso. I was meaning the one with the eucalyptus leaves and lovely oils that they put in the bath water – from the place we stopped at in the merchant’s quarter?” you deride playfully as you soak a rag in the tepid water before wringing it out. At his sardonic grunt, you stand and turn to bossily grab the waist of his trousers before yanking at the fastening. “Now, be good, husband, and let me undress you.”

His cock has been filled out since he collapsed onto the bench with you, but at your sultry tone, it throbs in response as it stands ready, arousal outlined prominently against the inseam of his trousers.

You take your time removing the remaining layers of clothes from his torso, then kneel at his feet in order to remove his dirt-caked boots before you finally resume stripping him of his pants.

The glow of the firelight illuminates his tan skin and the myriad of scars that map his body across contours of muscle and vast expanses of flesh. Some are old and worn smooth by time, others are silvery pale and etched, others are a darker olive and raised. He’d once been self-conscious about your gentle, appraising touches – of the doting caresses over the jagged reminders of brutality and pain that had been carved into him by steel blade, arrowhead or iron-made punctures. But now, he yearns for your touch, relishes how you brush your lips over a scar along the curve of his ribcage, and burns with pride at the reverent way you glide the wet rag to scrub the dirt and sweat from his skin.

He's not even bashful about standing in the nude before you while you remain in your chemise.

No, instead his timidness is palliated by the new fixation crossing his mind’s eye. One that’s conjured you in a kaleidoscope fantasy, where you’re standing before him in the same chemise, but instead it is clinging to a rounded little belly while your beautiful smile broadens as you look upon him. How you would look nude and with child, the way you’d react to his erotic touch – one hand between your thighs, with the other caressing your soft womb.

Before he could get carried away with the curiosities – would she taste sweeter between her thighs, would her scent be more ripened on her warmer skin, how sensitive would she be to being touched and kissed – Pero cleared his throat and his mind as best he could in order to guardedly watch you tend to him.

“So, this is what you’d fantasized about?” he murmurs warmly as you lean back on your haunches after crouching down to rinse the rag in the tub and wring it out once more.

The chill is warded away mostly by the fire in the hearth, but truthfully he’s so aroused by you that he’s become even more of a furnace than he is normally. You’re glad for it, loving the extra excuse to touch him and revel in his masculine scent.

“The bathing is a windfall, but yes,” you quip as you stand now so you can scrub up into his underarm and whisper conspiratorially, “Another thing I thought of? Was how gorgeous you look when your face is flushed after I suck your cock until you spill in my mouth—”

“Misericordia, mujer,” Pero exhales in a floored scoff as he pauses your scrubbing and cups his hand at your jaw in order to tilt your brazen smile up to him. “You cannot say such depraved filth to me and remain clothed,” is his raspy taunt as he crowds you against the edge of the table. Your titillated stare has him smirking as he tugs at the neckline of your chemise and orders, “Take this off. Now.”

You plop the rag down into the tub and do as you’re told, undressing before him.

He watches you with his dark, intense eyes, shadow cast by the fireplace shrouding half of his features as you discard the chemise, then your boots, leaving you in only the wool stockings.

You’re about to ruck one down when Pero surprises you by kneeling and doing it for you.

“So, how was your day, aside from the erotic daydreaming?” he’s asking in that melodic baritone as he chucks the stocking over his shoulder before moving to the next one, as if his face isn’t an inch from your womanhood and his gloating stare can’t see the debauched effect he’s having on you.

“It-It was fine. I spent most of it in their root cellar, helping stock the things from the barn,” you stutter as he hums to indicate he’s listening while he tosses the other stocking aside and starts fondling his hands up your supple thighs. “With the little ones clinging at her apron, she needed help milking the cow and feeding the chickens—”

“How were the little piglets today?” he jokes, wry glance up at you clear indication he’s referring to the children rather than the actual piglets from the sow in the barn.

You playfully pinch his shoulder. “Que malo,” is your sardonic giggle before answering, “The baby was needy for milk. But she’s practically tapped after the little one has his fill, so I tried to get him to eat some porridge—”

Pero grunts musingly and brushes a sloppy, open-mouth kiss over your womb. “The little glutton is old enough to eat. La pobrecita will be malnourished if she doesn’t get enough milk,” is his aloof grumble, kissing a path up your body as he slowly stands.

Arousal swoops into your stomach and curls tantalized tingles into your thrumming core.

“I-I know,” is all you can breathe out as he boxes you between him and the table at your back before looming at his full height to stare hungrily at you. “H-Hopefully they can wean him s-soon—”

“You wanted me to fuck you by the fire?”

Your clench hard at that, nipples studding and desire making you wet with anticipation while his broad frame stands so close, yet so far still. You know he’s being cheeky, trying to put you off-kilter to his whims, but you’re tickled more than anything that he’d try.

“I said I wanted you to make me yours by the fire,” you retort with a spritely look in your eyes.

“That’s the same thing, isn’t it?” he says in a contrarian drawl, lips pouting at your snickered response. “Well? How is it not?”

“Because! You can fuck anyone, but you can’t make just anyone yours,” you declare with a logical air, hands gliding up his chest now to loop around his neck so you can slink up against him and his warm, bare body.

“Hmm…makes sense, I suppose,” he judiciously replies before confidently hoisting you up.

You giggle effervescently as he carries you over to the makeshift bench, makes short work of shoving it to be closer to the hearth before laying you onto it and hitching himself between your welcoming thighs.

Pero’s kisses are greedy as he ruts his ramrod shaft between your dripping folds, eager to slicken it in order to spear it into you and make it feel divine for you both. Your hands cling to his muscular back, mouth seeking the warmth of his own for a luscious interlude before you feel him notch the head of his cock at your dimpled entrance.

He’s content to let you pillage his mouth with your tongue before twirling his own against it, desire a stoked fire in his center that he intends to nurture for as long and as many times he can bring you to climax before he’s overcome with his own release.

“Por favor, mi amor, dámelo,” you supplicate in a honey-sweet tone, eyes pleading as your body clings to his strong frame.

He can’t deny you any longer.

His thrust has you arching, pelvis angling up and knees clutching at his sides as he fucks into you to the hilt while you moan his name and he swears in awe at how sensational this feels every time.

“Cristo amado,” he groans as he thrusts into you again, passion boiling over in him at the way you mewl against his jaw approvingly. “Wanted this. Needed it—”

“Oh, Pero,” you exhale as he sets a pounding pace and holds you to him like you are liquid, and in danger of coming apart in his arms. “Want you all the time—”

“Yeah?” he groans, nuzzling your neck to suckle a possessive kiss into your delicate skin before he grits, “Need you, amada—”

“Tell me, husband. Mmm, tell me what you need,” you stammer out as he keeps rocking into you in that toe-curling way that has his cock grinding into the ruinous parts inside your fluttering sheath.

Ardently, he growls, “Need you—need to fill you up, keep you full of me. Want you to be mine—”

You moan in that glorious way again, and it almost drives him over the edge, so he adjusts to loom over you so he can concentrate on your pleasure. To make you reach bliss before he lets his baser, primal desires carry him off.

He keeps pounding into your squelching cunt as he begins suckling on your nipple while he presses the pad of his thumb over the hood of your bundled pleasure point.

It sets you alight, and you wail in overawed pleasure as he plucks you so with his cock, fingers and mouth. “Ah, D-Dios mío—” you cry out when he sucks hard on your pebbled flesh and grinds his wanton pleasure to ignite a scintillating climax to burst free.

You moan as your sheath squeezes around his cock and floods him with your warm orgasm, carried off by the throes of ecstasy he’s unleashed in you.

Punch-drunk from the achievement, Pero moans before he licks a path to the other nipple to toy the tip of his tongue along it until you shiver and whimper from overstimulation when he purses his lips around it.

“Pero,” you whine airily, eyes heavy-lidded as he frees your nipple and leans up to gaze rapaciously at you. He tenderly pets your sweaty hair from your face and traces his thumb along the apple of your cheek before you sigh, “You didn’t do it.”

He frowns, trailing his thumb to your mouth, intending to caress it over your plush lips before you kiss it dotingly. “Didn’t do what?”

You exhale girlishly before cupping your hand to his cheek. “You didn’t fill me,” is your silly reply, eyes warm with mirth and smile affectionate when he grunts and scowls. “And you held back. There was something you wanted to say—”

“There was, but it…” he pauses before shaking his head and scoffing, “I’m still inside you, amada. Let’s forget it—”

“Pero Tovar, are you timid, so suddenly?” you can’t help but razz, smiling slyly at him when he gives you his intimidating glower. “Oh no, that will not work with me, marido. Your nostrils flaring crossly are cute—”

“You are a maddening woman,” he huffs in that gravelly tone, but the amusement is clear in the creasing of his eyes. “I…I have been thinking things I haven’t before. At least that I haven’t ever considered, and, they are clumsy thoughts. I—I’m unused to being unsure, ternura…”

“Unsure about…what?” you ask and lean up to lovingly gaze into his tense stare. When he hesitates, you can’t help jump to conclusions for him, knowing how reticent he is about discussing his feelings. “If it’s about things here? We could always take William up on his offer – go north to visit him in the spring? Or if you’re not content with, well, this,” you gesture to the shabby interior of the cottage, “we could ask to stay in the hut next to the barn? It’s dryer and closer to the work—”

“It’s none of that. Although I haven’t done well enough of a job in that, I know. Not found us much of a life out here…” Pero grouses, but at your frown, he amends, “This is not the life of nobleza. It’s beneath your stature—”

“Fuck my stature,” you scoff and sit up to roll your positions so you can straddle his lap while he gapes up at you. “I’ve told you plenty of times now that my station in life is for me to decide, and I’ve chosen to be happy and free, with you. Now, mi guerrero obstinado, tell me what you’re unsure of, and I shall tell you if you have cause to be unsure.”

He’s still inside you, and the way his cock throbs in your still tingling sheath while he gives you a penetrating look with those dark brown eyes tells you this is something very primordial.

“I want to fill you up, make you full of my seed until your belly is soft and round with my child.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but your hands caress his chest in a soothing, encouraging way that has Pero shutting his eyes and letting out the breath he’d been holding.

“Our life is not suited for such a…we travel, and such a life would mean settling down,” he tells you firmly before opening his eyes.

He’s disarmed by the fond, radiant look softening your countenance.

“Well, sure, we would need to settle down, but only for a brief time. Until the little one can come along with us on our travels,” you tell him as you idly undulate your pelvis, grinding his pulsing cock along your silken walls before squeezing your sheath around it for good measure while your breasts bounce from how vigorously you begin fucking yourself onto him.

The wind begins to howl outside and seep through certain cracks in the door and window, but neither of you seem to care enough to notice as you sensually grind down on him, hair swaying with the way you lean forward to passionately kiss Pero when he groans and clutches your waist tightly, powerful fingers dimpling your flesh as he starts guiding you to ride him harder.

His breath is ragged as everything starts to spin up between you, his lust and adoration tangling around the incredulous realization that you’re in tune with the clumsy thoughts he confessed.

Still, it scorches something feral and covetous to singe through him as he husks, “You w-want that…? You truly want to be mine—to be with child?”

You moan and plant your palms to his warm, flexing pectorals as you ride him with desperate vigor now, expression beaming with delight.

“There’s nothing I want more,” you declare with genuine enamored satisfaction, albeit pantingly so as you ride him and mewl in pleasure.

Pero is torn asunder by your words as much as by how exquisitely you’re riding him, and he’s so propelled to the precipice of climax and primal need to triumph in it that he effortlessly sits up and manhandles you to flip positions so he can fuck you with passionate zeal and get you there with him just as his cock swells and twitches in imminent release.

“Mi alma, I’ll fuck my seed deep—make it so nothing spills free from you—have you filled full with it, and rejoice once a child is in your womb,” he’s professing against your jaw as he hammers his cock into your fluttering sheath while your heels dig into his lower back and your fingers knead below his shoulder blades, rapturous pleasure engulfing you with every ferally growled word, until he flings you into a blistering orgasm by moaning, “Will keep making you mine even then. Give you everything—keep you pregnant, protect you and our sweet ones—keep you forever—”

You cry out and arch up under him, rapturous sob catching in your throat as you reach a zenith of bliss that has you clinging in enthralled desperation to him, which snaps the tether of control loose from him and spurs his own fierce orgasm.

Pero moans hoarsely against your neck as he spills his climax deep, cock buried to the hilt inside you as he holds you possessively to him and hums soothingly at your loving nuzzles and whispered words of, “Te amo, precioso.”

Huskily, he rumbles, “Te amo y te adoro con todo que tengo, mi alma.”

You sigh wistfully at his words and melt further under him, reveling in the decadent bloom of warmth that diffuses through you.

The crackling of the fire is the only other sound of consequence over the ragged, shallow breaths you’re both trying to steady into calm once more while you come down from the soul-shattering lovemaking.

“Pero...?”

“Hm?”

“Would you still love me if I became plump and had little ones constantly hanging on my skirts?” you whisper meekly, hands languidly caressing along his sweaty back. “And if I even became shit at fighting?”

“That’s impossible, tigresita,” he laconically rumbles against your neck. At your fretful hum, he props himself up in order to loom over you and give you his steely, no-nonsense stare. “I started to love you when I thought you were an awkward, short soldadito, my love. I think it’s safe to say I’ll love every version of you to come,” is his bass-filled retort, sincere affection not dulled by the humor of his tone.

You press your forehead to his, appeased.

He pulls out of your now tender cunt, and avidly watches his seed begin to drip in his wake, so he scoops his fingers to prevent it from spilling further, and pushes the pearly essence back into you.

You shiver and sigh, resting a hand over your womb while you caress his shoulder with the other as you shut your eyes in the moment of blissful tranquility, post-coitus.

“I just hope I make a worthy enough father.”

You don’t mean to snort, but you do. “You will, mi amor. The real concern is whether we’ll be able to muster the stamina to work on the farm chores and fuck like this until you put a baby in me,” is your vivacious chuckle as you hook your arm around his shoulders to guide him back down to lie on top of you while he scoffs irreverently at you.

“I have plenty of stamina, always,” he purrs against your mouth before brushing his lips against it.

“Good. I yearn to be ravished by you daily, after all, so you’ll need it,” is your alluring coo before kissing him amorously.

You only break the kiss to bat your lashes at him before susurrating, “I want you to make me yours again and again, until dawn comes, and then all over again, precioso.”

He chuckles that deep, gravelly laugh before crooning melodically, “As you wish, mi amada.”

_____________________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Caldero = Cauldron, for cooking over a hot flame

Condesa = Countess; a woman of nobility

Tigresita = Tiger Lilly; little tigress

Bueno = So; also ‘Good’ or ‘Well’

Guerrero = Warrior (male)

Mi amada = My beloved (female)

Mi marido = My husband

Bebita = Little baby (female)

No me tortures, por favor = Don’t torture me, please

Mi tigresita valiente = My valient little tigress

Tentador = Tempter (male)

Esposa = Wife

Mi amor = My love

Mujer = Woman

Ternura = Tenderness; akin to saying ‘sweetheart’

Precioso = Precious (male); gorgeous one

No seas tan gallardo, y come = Don’t be so gallant and eat

No seas tan porfiada y come, condesa = Don’t be so stubborn and eat, countess

Travieso = Naughty/Mischievous boy

Misericordia, mujer - Mercy, woman

Que malo = So bad (male)

La pobrecita = The poor little thing; poor little girl

Por favor, mi amor, dámelo = Please, my love, give it to me

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Amada = Beloved

Ah, D-Dios mío = Oh, my God

Nobleza = Nobility

Mi guerrero obstinado = My obstinate warrior

Mi alma = My soul; passionate term of endearment that eludes to the profound love someone feels, aka to the soul

Te amo, precioso = I love you, precious boy

Te amo y te adoro con todo que tengo, mi alma = I love and I adore you with all I have, my soul

Soldadito = Little soldier (male)

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

Taglist:

#Pero Tovar #The Great Wall #Pero Tovar x Condesa #Pero Tovar x OFC #roguefury's 400 follower drabble prompts #roguefury's 400 followers drabble prompts #400 followers #400 followers drabble prompt #Pedro Pascal characters

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sword-dad-fukuzawa · 1 year

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i'm a huge tea enthusiast so i want nothing more than to project this onto my faves. however. vash is the kind of guy who gets a cup o' joe from the dunkin donuts every morning and wolfwood drinks multiple shots of expresso. neither of these bitches drink tea. KNIVES ON THE OTHER HAND.

I AM GIVING HIM THE PRETENTIOUS INTERESTS HE DESERVES. he hates the smell of coffee. can't stand the taste of it, bristles like a cat if any of it gets near him. has a special tea timer specifically for brewing, and all sorts of fancy tea pots and tea strainers that fill a whole cabinet in his apartment.

he breaks vash's coffee machine one morning out of sheer spite and vash retaliates by flushing his expensive-ass-imported-straight-from-china oolong tea leaves. he nearly kills vash for it (this is a normal tuesday).

he has an entire shelf full of the different teas he drinks. there's everything from genmaicha to osmanthus oolong to white peony and if you dare ask if he's got any lipton, he has to visibly hold himself back from biting you dead.

wolfwood has, of course, tested this empirically. knives did, in fact, try to bite him dead and only the timely intervention of vash coming home from work was able to keep his fool ass alive.

rem was super concerned about knives's budding anger issues when he was growing up and a child psychologist friend of hers suggested that knives get a hobby he could really get obsessed about, just so his yandere tendencies don't get any worse. rem bought him tea.

it wasn't all that fancy--just an 8 dollar jar of tie kuan yin from the local asian market--but knives adored it. rem still sends him a new jar every year on his birthday, and even though knives swears he thinks it's cheap trash, he still somehow portions it out to last the whole year until rem sends him the next one.

when wolfwood came to, uh, "ask" knives if he could date his little brother, he came bearing a tea plant. it was ridiculous, because it's not like knives has the room in their apartment to grow it properly.

but it was just surprising enough, just thoughtful enough (he'd been expecting that the little shit would fight him for vash's hand, tbh) that he accepts the gift. it takes up half the kitchen and he's named it sonata. not that he'll ever admit that to vash, but his brother has sharp ears and heard him whispering sweet nothings to it. it was cute.

and when wolfwood decides he wants both of the twins, he asks knives out to the most expensive, most pretentious teahouse in the area. they have to drive for an hour to get there and knives nearly jumps out of the car/tries to kill him three times.

but the look on his face when he tried their matcha? exquisite. wolfwood is going to savor that expression of sheer delight for a long, long time.

he gets another date out of it, though knives still refuses to kiss him if he tastes like coffee.

#plantwood #knives millions #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun stampede #GOD I LOVE PLANTWOOD MODERN AUS. EVERYONE LIVES NO ONE DIES BABY #inspired by my tea enthusiasm and coffee hatred

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our-blood-is-our-ink · 1 year

Text

Hearts Made of Starlight, Love Made of Sunshine

Paper Rings AU

Ship(s): Claire Debella x Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: A lighthearted moment takes a sexual turn. (Because these gay bitches are constantly horny.)

Word Count: 10.4k

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warnings (not in strict order): fluff, smut, unrealistic sex (do not try at home), use of general pet-names, use of sexual pet-names (kitten, bunny, dove), mistress kink, daddy kink, mommy kink, bondage, spanking, use if vibrators, use of dildos, oral sex (R receiving), squirting, humiliation/degradation kink, praise kink, begging, collars, subspace, overstimulation (implied), aftercare, mentions of titty sucking

A/N: it should be noted that I'm jumping around the Paper Rings timeline. This happens sometime before the events of Paper Rings takes place.

You smile at the sight of Agatha wordlessly passing the tray of freshly made cookies to Claire, luxuriating in their easy companionship.

“Can I have one?” You call out, knowing you're grinning like a sap.

Agatha frowns.

“No, love. They're too hot. Let them cool first.”

You turn your eyes to Claire.

“Don't even think about it, Debella.” Agatha says preemptively as she shuts off the oven.

Claire pouts.

“You're no fun.”

“No fun?” Agatha sounds offended.

“Yes.” Claire states, lifting her chin proudly. “I said what I said.”

Agatha lunges for Claire's phone too fast for her to be able to stop the witch.

“What are you doing?” She demands.

Agatha gives you both a shit eating grin, before changing the lofi music that had been playing softly in the background on the speakers to an entirely ridiculous instrumental piece you don't recognize, but Claire clearly does as her eyes widen in recognition.

Before you could ask why the song could possibly qualify for such a reaction, Agatha breaks down into the stupidest dance you've ever seen.

“Why, Agatha.” Claire moans, bringing her hands up so she could bury her face into them.

You, on the other hand, are startled into howling laughter.

“What the fuck?” You giggle. “Agatha, what the hell?”

“See? I can be fun.” Is all she says.

“Oh my god.” Claire mumbles.

“Join me, Claire!”

“Absolutely not.” Claire drops her hands to glare at Agatha, who's now whirling around the island.

Agatha shrugs.

“Fine, feel left out.”

She tugs on your hands and you follow her, laughing.

Claire looks on in horror.

“There's two of you now.”

You tip your head back and feel the joy of the moment bubbling through you.

“Sure is!”

“Oh god.” Claire groans. “Why?”

“Here, here, here.” Agatha says, stopping in front of the vampire. “You have to show them.”

Claire glares. “No.”

“Yes!”

“No.”

Agatha turns to you.

“Give her the eyes.”

Claire's mouth drops in outrage.

“That's playing dirty!” She protests.

It's not enough to save her from your incredibly well honed puppy eyes.

“Fine!” She gives in. “Just- just stop looking at me all sad and pathetic.”

Immediately you smooth your face out into a happy grin, watching with anticipation as she slides from her seat to stand.

“You owe me.” She says, aiming it at Agatha.

Agatha, who must've picked Claire's phone back up while you were busy committing war crimes against your mate, changes the song to something just as ridiculous.

You burst out laughing, unable to contain your howls of delight as Claire breaks down into a clearly long since choreographed dance with Agatha.

“Oh my god.” You say breathlessly.

Claire's expression just makes the whole thing far funnier than it had any right to be, as she followed Agatha's steps in making utter fools of themselves.

“Oh my god.” You repeat.

“I'll be your god in one moment.” Claire mutters, disgruntled. “And I won't be kind.”

“Someone's grumpy.” Agatha laughs.

Claire stops dancing.

“You know what, Harkness? This goes both ways.”

Agatha frowns.

“What possibly is there th- No. Claire, no.”

But it's too late, because Claire has shut off the music and has grabbed Agatha's waist into her hold.

“Come on… I thought you were fun.” She challenges.

Agatha narrows her eyes.

“Fine.” She accepts.

And to your utter amazement, Agatha allows Claire to lift her up, up, up, suddenly making you extremely glad for the excessively high ceiling.

“Just do it, coward.” Agatha says after a few moments, Claire's arms flexed, showing off her usually hidden muscle.

You shriek when Claire then tosses Agatha, hard enough she nearly grazes the ceiling.

Claire grins, and catches the witch with ease.

“Alright, let me down, you've proven your poOOOOINT- CLAIRE DEBELLA!”

Claire laughs, a sound that's lighthearted and filled with easy joy, as she catches Agatha again.

“Alright, if you insist.”

She gently sets Agatha down, who immediately crosses her arms.

“That.” She says. “Was mean.”

“No.” Claire corrects. “That was fun.”

“It was entertaining, is what that was.” You giggle.

Agatha turns to you.

“Fine then, if you thought that was so entertaining it can be your turn.”

Immediately you stop laughing.

“Uh… No, thanks.” You defer. “I don't like heights.”

“Don't tell me you're a coward.” Agatha taunts.

“That's exactly what I am.” You quickly nod.

“I don't know…” Claire hums, tapping her chin, grinning cheekily. “You did dance with Agatha, it's only fair you do something with me.”

You look between the two older women, darting your eyes back and forth, hoping to find mercy with one of them.

When you don't find any, you sigh.

“I swear, if I get hurt…” You threaten.

“No one's getting hurt.” Claire says in what you're sure she believes to be a reassuring voice.

“Uhuh.” You sarcastically agree.

Agatha only smiles as she hops onto one of the kitchen bar stools as she watches Claire firmly grasp your hips.

You clutch onto her shoulders.

“I really don't like heights. Or being picked up. Or-”

“You'll be fine.” Agatha calls out. “Claire could do this with a fucking kangaroo.”

You turn your head to stare at the witch.

“That's an oddly specific animal.”

“It was a dare.” Claire defends herself.

You look at her in shock.

“I'm sorry, you actually did this with a kangaroo?”

“Mhm.”

And that's right when she tosses you, as you're distracted.

You hardly have anytime to scream before you've landed safely, and oddly not roughly, back into her arms.

“Fucking hell.” You glare. “Warn me.”

“Fine.” Claire shrugs. “Warning.”

“Wha- Claire, noOOOOOOCLAIRE!”

Agatha howls with laughter as you wiggle enough in Claire's grasp that you fall to the floor.

“That was mean.” You whine.

“Oh, but it was entertaining when she did it to me?” Agatha teases.

You pout at her.

“Awww, baby.” She coos.

“Don't call me a pet name, you traitor.” You grumble.

“She was insulting you, doll.” Claire says, reaching a hand down to tousle your hair.

You glare up at her.

“You owe me for that.”

“Oh?” Claire raises an eyebrow. “And what is it that I owe?”

You pretend to consider it before answering.

“Kisses. I want kisses.” You declare.

“Do I owe you kisses as well?” Agatha asks.

You tilt your head in her direction.

“As a matter of fact, yes, you do.”

Claire and Agatha grin at each other.

“Well alright.” The vampire practically purrs. “Where exactly do we owe you these kisses, though?”

You stare up into her blue, blue eyes, and shiver at the golden tone they're taking on.

“Oh.” Your lips part gently.

Agatha laughs again, but more softly this time.

“You should know better than to ask our precious one to do any thinking, Claire.”

Claire turns and looks at Agatha.

Agatha shifts uncomfortably.

“What?” She asks.

“I think you know.” Claire says.

Agatha shifts some more.

Claire steps around you to get closer to Agatha.

“Don't ruin this by being a brat, bunny.” She chides.

Agatha swallows.

You watch with growing arousal as she apologizes.

“Sorry, daddy.” Agatha whispers, her cheeks turning red.

Claire considers her.

“Sorry for what, doll?” She presses. “Look at me when you're talking.”

Agatha meets Claire's eyes, which have now solidly turned into a golden shade.

“I'm sorry for calling you by the wrong name, daddy.” Embarrassment colors her tone. “Little bunnies should know better than to disrespect their daddies.”

“That's right.” Claire coos. “They should.”

“Mistress.” You whine as you watch Claire kiss Agatha hungrily.

“Aw, kitten.” Claire pouts as she pulls away from the other woman. “Did you want your kisses now?”

You nod your head eagerly as you shift from sitting to kneeling.

“Please, mistress. I want you and mommy to make me feel good.”

Claire looks at you fondly, though it does nothing to mask the utter lust in her eyes.

“You're always so good for me, princess. Nothing like my silly bunny.”

“Mommy's good. Sometimes.” You defend.

You feel a wave of affection pulse through you, and you shift your gaze from Claire's eyes to Agatha's.

“Mistress does have a point, sweetheart.” Agatha says condescendingly, a smug look crossing her face. “I enjoy making her life difficult.”

Your eyes widen at the casual admittance.

“Oh, do you, now?” Claire's voice has dropped into her lower register, the sound alone makes you shiver with need.

Agatha, still seated comfortably on the bar stool, juts her chin out proudly.

“You like it when I misbehave.” She smirks. “You like it even more when I make you kneel for me.”

You go still, hardly daring to breathe.

In all the time you've spent together with the two other women, not once has Claire submitted to Agatha.

At least, not that you're aware of.

When Claire makes a threatening step towards Agatha, you shout, “no!” Surprising yourself. It isn't often you put your foot down like this. But you know that look Claire and Agatha are giving each other, the one that says they'll fight for dominance while forcing you to wait. And you don't want to wait. “This is supposed to be about me!”

Two pairs of eyes swing towards you as you stand.

“You agreed you owed me.” You cross your arms as you stand. “And I no longer want the kisses.”

Agatha's brow furrows, as Claire's climbs.

“I didn't realize you had claws, kitten.” Claire comments.

You huff.

“What, did you think I was always the one submitting to Agatha?”

Claire tilts her head as Agatha's cheeks turn red again.

“I never considered it.” The vampire admits. “I thought you were a sub.”

You shrug.

“Sometimes I enjoy dominating.”

Agatha scoffs as she stands.

“You mean rarely. I can count on both hands the amount of times I submitted to you.”

“And I'm sure you'll remember that every single one of them had you begging for me to do it more often, bunny.” You challenge.

Agatha looks away from the impromptu staring contest.

“Hm.” Claire hums. “I'm intrigued.”

Agatha turns to glare at her.

“Oh, so are you going to make me kneel for them, then?”

You laugh.

“I don't need daddy's help with that.”

You reach out mentally, and give the bond a sharp tug, and Agatha stumbles forward.

She scowls and tugs back.

You smile, not moving an inch.

“Aw, would you look at that.” You coo. “You really want this.”

“I do not!” Agatha protests, but she's betrayed by the arousal you can vaguely feel from the bond, throbbing through her.

“Then prove it.” You dare her. “Make me kneel instead.”

She growls, and tugs at the bond again.

You merely tilt your head in Claire's direction.

“Why don't you show her how good little ones behave, mistress?” You ask.

An invitation, not a demand.

Claire glances between you and Agatha, before letting a slow smile spread across her face, elegantly dropping to her knees.

“There's a good girl.” You praise, stepping towards the vampire. You reach your hand down and rest it against her cheek. “Are you going to continue to be good for your kitten tonight?”

Claire turns her head and kisses the palm of your hand.

“Just for tonight. Don't expect me to do this again.” Claire warns.

You nod.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

You step away, and smile at Agatha.

“Since you insist on being a brat, I'll treat you like one.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please.”

You lean in to whisper into her ear.

“If you insist.”

You suppress a grin at how you can tell Agatha's body shivers.

“Claire, darling, would you like to tie our misbehaving bunny up for me?”

Again, an invitation.

But this time, with more risk.

She considers you.

“Tonight only.” She stresses.

You nod in acknowledgement. “Thank you, mistress.”

She stands, and glares at Agatha.

“Kneel.”

You shiver at her tone, and have to resist the urge to follow Agatha onto your knees.

Technically Claire enthralling Agatha would be considered cheating if she didn't enjoy being held under it so much.

“Safe word if you really don't want this.” The older woman mummers.

When Agatha says nothing, she nods at you.

“Be a good pet, and crawl to the bedroom, bunny.” You order.

Agatha looks up at you, pupils blown wide with want, and it sends a throb of arousal straight to your aching pussy.

“Go on.” You encourage.

Agatha starts hesitantly until Claire smacks her ass, and that gets her moving.

“God, that ass.” You comment quietly to Claire, watching Agatha head toward the main bedroom.

“Why do you think I enjoy fucking it so much?” It's a rhetorical question, and you exchange a smile with her.

“Be a good pet for me, too, mistress.” You say.

Claire presses a light kiss to your cheek, before obeying instructions, wiggling her own ass in a clear invitation.

You laugh softly as you smack it, and you're fairly certain Claire bites back a moan, clearly not having expected you to know to do it firmly.

You follow, leaning against the doorframe as you watch Claire gather the materials she wants to use to tie Agatha up with.

“Tie her to the chair.” You call to her. “If she wants to be a brat, she can watch as you pleasure me with a vibe stuffed inside that greedy cunt of hers.”

Agatha whines from where she's kneeling at the foot of the bed.

Claire pauses before blinking at you.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow. “I've had my fair share of punishments. I know what they should look like.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for a hard dom.” She comments.

You grin. “I can contain multitudes. Unless you rather I treat you roughly? Hm? Do you want that from me tonight, Claire? Do you want your perfect little angel to ruin you?”

Claire looks dumbstruck.

You laugh.

“Be good, and finish tying up our brat.”

Claire swallows.

“Yes, ma'am.” She obeys.

Your whole body feels suddenly alight. You never thought you could be so turned on from a simple title.

You watch, distracted from where you had started looking through one of the toy drawers you keep, as Claire directs Agatha to give you both a show as she undresses.

“Tease her tits.” You find yourself saying when Agatha's bra comes off, revealing her ample chest. “I want to see them all bruised and prettied up for me.”

The moan that leaves the witch's mouth as Claire's finds its place against Agatha's flesh is obscene.

“Is this why you were being such a fucking brat?” You wonder. “Did you just need someone to touch you?”

“Yes!” Agatha cries out as Claire bites down. “I need it!”

You roll your eyes.

“Pathetic.” You degrade. “I didn't realize you were such an attention whore.”

You wait a few more moments, waiting for Claire to switch sides, and just before she can enclose her mouth around the nipple that has yet to be lavished with her tender ministrations, you command her.

“Stop.”

Instantly, the vampire freezes, as Agatha lets out a string of protests.

“Good girl.” You praise Claire, who visibly preens at the two words.

“And you.” You snap in Agatha's direction. “Do I need to gag you in addition to having your daddy tie you up?”

Her eyes widen, and she quickly shakes her head.

“Then shut up.” You order coldly.

Claire groans at your tone, and it causes you to turn from Agatha in order to study her face, before you break out in laughter.

“Aw, mistress.” You tease. “I didn't realize you enjoyed being so subservient.”

Her mouth opens, and you can clearly tell she's about to deny your words, when you swiftly shove your fingers down her throat.

“I wouldn't ruin being such a well behaved pet for myself, if I were you.” You softly warn.

Claire's gagging, and you let her continue for a few seconds longer before removing your now wet fingers, wiping them dry against her face.

A small whine emits from the back of her throat.

“Tie her up.”

As Claire scrambles to obey, you find the vibrator you want to stuff Agatha's already dripping hole with, carefully lubing it up.

You can feel your pussy pulsing, can feel how wildly turned on you are.

You can also feel, albeit more distantly than your own, Agatha's arousal, how it courses through her as if it were some sort of holy fire cleansing her.

“Undress and wait for me on the bed.” You tell Claire, once she finishes doing as you asked.

You focus on Agatha, not worried about the other woman.

“Now, bunny.” You say sweetly. “How do we ask to be punished?”

When she bows her head to allow her hair to curtain in front of her face, you make a disproving sound.

“Ah, ah, ah. Look at me, mommy.” You grip her chin and jerk her head up so that her eyes meet your own, before dropping your hold so she can speak.

Agatha's jaw works, clenching and unclenching.

“If you can't answer me, I won't be nice.” You warn. “You want to cum tonight, don't you?”

Agatha stares at you in horror.

“You wouldn't.” She rasps out, arousal clear in her voice.

You frown slightly, before smacking her across the face.

“Try again.”

She blinks the tears in her eyes away.

“Please punish me, ma'am.” She pleads. “I need to be put in my place.”

You hear a moan from behind you, and you quickly take a glance to find Claire spread out on the bed, fingers lightly dancing across her body, but not touching anything vital without your permission.

You refocus on Agatha.

“What happens to brats that cum without permission?” You demand.

The witch bites her lip, thinking, before responding.

“Edging.” She decides on.

“Wrong.” You softly say. “They get overstimulated until they have tears streaming down their pretty cheeks and their pussies are all puffy and swollen.”

Her moan is music to your ears.

“Now stay still, mommy.” You order her. “Your little one is going to put this in you.”

Agatha breathes sharply inward as you slowly start pushing the vibrator in, watching with fascination as her greedy hole swallows the rounded parts.

“You can turn it on.” You call out to Claire, not taking your eyes off the little bit you can still see poking out from where Agatha is now stretched around the vibe.

As soon as Claire turns it on, Agatha gasps, crying out as her eyes screw shut.

“Remember.” You whisper in her ear. “You are not allowed to cum until I say so.”

You then turn and walk towards Claire, ignoring the writhing witch behind you.

“I think someone deserves a reward for being such a good role model.” You comment as you crawl to hover over Claire. “But first, how would you like to get me out of these clothes, hm?”

Her eyes flash, and you barely have time to register it before you've been flipped over and your clothes are being ripped from your body.

“Claire.”

You aren't certain if it's a reprimand or if it's encouragement, but your mate certainly takes it as the latter, using her teeth to tear your panties off of you, as her hands do the same with your bra, and you can't help the moan that finds its way out of your mouth.

“Let me make you feel good.” She growls, nuzzling at your neck, having made her way back up. “Reward me by letting me eat you out until you can't do anything other than scream.”

You reach a hand and tangle it into her hair, tugging at it until she removes her face from where it's buried in your neck to right above yours.

“Are you certain that's what you want? I can't promise that you'll cum tonight if that's what you wish for your reward to be.” You say, searching her eyes.

They're no longer solidly gold, nor are they wholly blue, but are somewhere in between, and makes you throb with need.

“Yes.” Claire begs. “Please, ma'am. Let mistress make you feel good.”

And oh, if that doesn't fill you with lust, if it doesn't make you feel utterly alight, nothing does.

“Go on then.” You breathe out.

Claire's grin is feral, and she kisses you hard.

“Thank you, ma'am.” She's careful to say as she pulls away.

You guide her head down, down, down, while fully opening up your bond with Agatha, allowing her to feel Claire's hot breath against your core as if it were on her own, and she loudly moans as the chair rocks from her attempting to buck her hips.

You can feel how the vibrator deep inside her is causing her to gush around it, can feel how sweat beads her skin, and you would laugh at how helpless she is if Claire didn't pick that moment to short circuit you by burying her tongue deep into your already soaking wet cunt.

“Oh fuck, Claire!” You shout, arching your back, yanking harshly at her hair.

She moans, and the vibrations make you feel lit aflame.

“Ma'am!” You hear Agatha cry out. “I'm gonna cum!”

You can hardly think, but you still manage to snap out, “don’t you fucking dare, you fucking slut.”

“Please!” Agatha begs. “Please, I can't- I can't help it!”

“If you fucking cum without my fucking permission I'll turn you over my lap an- FUCK!” You cut yourself off as Claire sucks your clit into her mouth. “Fuck! Yes, just like tha- SHIT! You're going to make me cum, make your kitten fucking c-cum! I- Oh, oh! FUCK, mistress, don't stop, don't stop, don't fucking- YES! Right there! Right there! You're gonna make me cum I'm gonna fucking cum, I- O-Oh, f-fuck! Fu-fu-fuck! Oh fu- CLAIRE!” You scream your orgasm out, riding your high as you clench around nothing, Claire's tongue occupied by flicking your clit, over and over and over again.

You don't think you've ever peaked faster, and you ride out the waves of pleasure crashing down on you, grinding your hips against Claire.

There's ringing in your ears, but isn't it enough to cover Agatha's own cries of pleasure, and you can feel anticipation coursing through you.

You give yourself a few moments, violently jerking Claire away from your now sopping wet core, where she had started to lick at you again, clearly determined to make you cum a second time.

She whines, and you grip her hair tighter.

“The brat fucking came.” You hiss out breathlessly.

Your hand is jerked backwards as Claire snaps her head up to stare at Agatha, and she growls low in her throat.

Your eyes are still closed, but they don't need to be open for a few more moments yet.

“Untie her. Don't stop the vibrator. Let her stumble her way to me. Get out one of the paddles. And then be good and lick her mess clean.”

You release your hold on Claire's hair, and she moves so quickly she creates a small rush of cool air.

Agatha begs as Claire does as you instructed, hoping for mercy, but doesn't get a response from either of you.

You feel the bed dip and open your eyes, scooting backwards so you're sitting up against the headboard.

Agatha's flushed red, from her ears all the way down to her chest, which has started to show the bruises Claire had inflicted on her earlier.

“Over my lap, bunny.” You command her.

Her legs tremble as the vibrator continues to overstimulate her, making her collapse a few times on the soft surface of the blankets before picking herself back up and continuing to make her way towards you.

Agatha is only half way to you when Claire passes you one of the smaller paddles.

You raise a single eyebrow.

“You really want her to hurt, don't you?”

“She enjoys it.” The vampire shrugs.

You tilt your head, eyes still on Agatha.

“I'll bet. I'll also bet you're hoping I'll let you fuck yourself, aren't you?”

You don't need to see Claire's face to know it's colored slightly.

Agatha finally reaches you, situating herself so that her ass rests comfortably across your lap as she spreads her body out.

Her thighs glisten, and you run two fingers through it, feeling the wetness.

“Since you want to stuff that pretty pussy of yours so badly, you can warm a dildo on the floor.”

Claire lets out a noise of protest.

“Ma'am, please. I was so good for you.”

Now you do turn to look at her, Agatha wiggling slightly as you absentmindedly tease her smallest hole with the fingers coated in her essence.

“You were.” You pause, watching as Claire's face falls, as she realizes you're not going to give in. “And now you're ruining it.”

A thrill runs through you as this powerful woman bows her head in submission to you.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll be good.”

You hum in approval while suddenly giving Agatha a sharp smack across her ass when she whined.

“Quiet, brat.” You snap.

There's a faint whimper, but she does keep silent.

“Get out the red and black one.” You tell Claire. “If you can prove you can continue to be good after our bunny takes her punishment, I'll have her fuck you with it.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” She's eager, and you laugh a little at it.

Really, you should take control more often, you muse. You forget how much you enjoy it.

You turn your attention back to the witch that's draped over your lap, grasping at the paddle that rests besides you.

“Don't think you're not going to be overstimulated tonight.” You warn her.

You don't get a response, and you realize Agatha's trying to be good.

You smirk, and hear Claire groan, having situated herself kneeling on the floor with her hole stuffed full with one of the largest dildos the three of you own.

“There's my good girls.” You coo. “See, it isn't so hard to listen.”

That's when you bring the paddle down on Agatha, who yelps at the sudden sting.

“How many was that, mommy?” You ask condescendingly.

“One.” She whispers.

“Keep count, then. Otherwise I might have to start over. We'll go to ten, alright, little one?”

You can't help the term of endearment as it slips off your tongue, can't help the shared love and adoration that you and Agatha hold for each other from rolling through the bond.

It makes her moan, and you don't chide her for it, only swinging the paddle again.

“Two.” Already her voice holds more arousal than pain, and Claire groans again as you feel your breath catch.

“Ma'am.” Claire stops you from hitting Agatha again. “Ma'am, spank her pussy.”

You slowly turn your head, well adjusted now to the feeling of power you hold over your partner that you'd never have dreamed would be so submissive to you.

“Was that an order?” You ask, careful to be neutral.

Immediately, her eyes widen.

“No. No. I'm sorry, ma'am. Please spank her pussy, ma'am.”

You nod in satisfaction, before doing exactly as she asked.

Agatha's moan is filthy, and you watch in awe as a gush of her essence drips out from her weeping cunt.

“Th-th-three.” She stutters.

You spank her pussy again, and she practically screams, and you realize that she's cumming.

“You dirty fucking slut.” You laugh disbelievingly.

“I told you, ma'am.” Claire says, sounding breathless. “She’s such a cute whore when her pussy gets spanked.”

“You know, dove.” You casually comment. “I haven't heard her count yet. I think I've lost my place. Would you like to correct her?”

Claire looks so eager, and it makes you throb.

“Yes, please.”

You smile at the vampire as Agatha continues to rut against you, evidently still riding out the last of her orgasm.

“Hm…” You hum. “I'll let. As long as you put on a pretty show for me first.”

The effect of your words are instantaneous, and Claire immediately starts bouncing on the synthetic cock that's buried deep in her pussy, her moans echoing around the room.

You tap Agatha right where her spine dips into the swell of her ass.

“Watch.” You whisper, and she obediently picks up her head from where it was resting on the bed, moaning far more softly than Claire at the sight of her mate pleasuring herself.

“Oh, fuck.” The vampire groans, throwing her head back. “Fuck. Kitten.”

You let out a groan of your own at the sound of Claire begging for you.

“Touch yourself.”

It's hardly louder than a breath, but Claire hears it all the same, her enhanced hearing a gift, and her hand wanders down so she can circle at her clit.

It's awkward, until the older woman clearly decides it'll be easier to lay back, using a hand to force the dildo off from where it had been suctioned to the hardwood floors, spreading her legs so that you can perfectly see the speed at which she brutally fucks herself.

Agatha whines, and you gently reach a hand out to stroke at her hair.

“I know, she is so pretty being a good little slut for me, isn't she, mommy? You like watching daddy make herself cum, don't you?”

The witch whines again, and you gently tug at a strand of hair.

“Maybe she'll cum faster if you encourage her to.”

All you get is a moan in return, and you have to laugh.

“Oh, little one, has my pretty baby’s brain gone so dumb she can't even talk?”

Agatha whimpers, just as Claire's moan goes high pitched before cutting off, making you groan with lust as you watch as she cums hard around the dildo she has buried deep into herself.

Idly, you use your unoccupied hand to grab a handful of Agatha's ass and squeeze.

She makes an odd sound in the back of her throat and wiggles.

“Hush.” You chide. “Only good bunnies get to speak.”

Agatha makes the sound again as Claire gently pulls the fake dick out of herself, giving you a view of how she gapes, clenching around nothing.

“Daddy!” The witch in your lap gasps. “Daddy!”

Lazily, Claire sits up, and gives a grin that seems a little loopy.

Clearly, it had been one of her more powerful orgasms.

“Brat.” Claire laughs, even as she pants, trying to catch her breath. “You just can't help yourself, even all stupid and dumb for our kitten.”

You can't properly see Agatha's face, but you can easily picture how the humiliation causes her face to flush a darker shade of red.

“Come here, mistress.” You say. “I'll bet she's just desperate for you to spank her pretty little cunt all black and blue.”

The vampire stands on shaky legs.

“I want to put a collar on her first.”

You meet Claire's gaze, note how they shimmer between shades of blue and gold, before you concede.

“Please, collar me too, mistress.” You beg, and you swear you could see how her pupils blow up to twice their previous size.

“Alright, kitten.”

But she doesn't head to the closet, where you keep the big box of the collars you bulk order. Instead, she walks over to the bed, where you and Agatha await her.

She leans down and kisses you hard, and you moan into it, opening your mouth to give her access, to allow her to lick into you, and she practically fucks your mouth with her tongue.

When she pulls away, you feel lightheaded.

“You did such a good job, princess.” She whispers. “So I'll let you continue to tell me what's going to happen, as long as you understand that it won't be this way for the whole night.”

Your eyes are wide, almost comically so as you nod your head.

“Thank you, mistress.”

Claire smirks.

“Well, I do owe you, don't I? Besides, you've earned it.”

You beam happily up at her, warmth flooding you.

That's when Agatha decides she's had enough of being ignored, huffing loudly.

“Not fair.” She complains.

You and Claire share a look, before she slips off for the closet.

“You know what's not fair, brat?” You ask. “You being such a fucking attention slut. You need to learn that not everything is about you.”

Heaven help you, you can tell she's pouting.

You don't even need the bond to tell you that.

“You're going to take your punishment like a good girl, and not like the bad bunny you've been.” You state. “You're going to let daddy spank you until she feels you've learned your lesson, and then your kitten is going to overstimulate you until you're begging her to let you stop cumming.” You yank Agatha's head up by her hair, making her look straight at Claire, who's dangling two disposable collars from her fingertips. “And you know what we're going to do as you beg? We're going to ignore you. Daddy is going to make me feel so, so good, because that's what I've been for her. A good girl. While you, the bad brat, will only get to feel the vibrator that I stuffed inside your pathetic little hole. And then only after mistress makes me pass out will she maybe take the strap and fuck your mouth with it, since you can't seem to keep yourself quiet without any help.”

Claire's throaty laugh causes you to look back up at her, having focused on talking down at Agatha.

“You're adorable, doll.” She says. “Such big talk for someone who's usually so quick to kneel.”

“I have to take my chances where I can get them then, don't I?”

Claire hums in agreement.

“Let go of her.” She orders.

You detangle your fingers from Agatha's hair, and the witch's head drops, before Claire lifts it up with a single finger.

“Keep it still.”

You brush the curtain of soft curls aside, allowing Claire easy access to Agatha's neck as she tightens the collar.

“That okay, mommy?” You ask softly.

“Feels good.” Agatha agrees, and your head is suddenly spinning with the rush of emptiness that she shares with you through the bond.

You hardly register Claire manipulating your own body so that she can collar you, just that it furthers the subspace you were abruptly thrown into.

The vampire presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You can't stay in charge and tell me what our bunny gets if you can't think, princess.” Her voice is also soft, and you blink, lazily making eye contact with her.

She smiles, and her eyes pull you in.

“Wake up.” Her words are smothered in the honey of enthrallment, and just as swiftly as Agatha pulled you into subspace, Claire snaps you out of it.

You whine at its loss.

“Aw, but I did make you a promise, kitten.” Claire fake pouts.

You half heartedly glare at her.

“Maybe I should make you wear a collar too.”

Something in Claire stills, even as her breath audibly quickens.

“Oh, dove.” You coo. “Did you want to feel owned?”

Instantly Claire shakes her head, a brief flash of panic crosses her face.

“Nobody owns me. Nobody.”

Agatha shifts from her position on your lap.

“She doesn't like the concept of being owned.” Comes her rough voice. “Like I don't enjoy things on my wrists.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach.

If Agatha phrased it like that, it means it's tied to something traumatic, something big if it was enough to pierce through the subspace she's in and allow her to find words that aren't monosyllabic to speak with.

“I'm so sorry, Claire.” You immediately feel horrified, guilty. “I didn't- I hadn't known.”

The older woman shakes her head again.

“It's- Well it's not okay but it's- it's fine because you didn't know. I know you didn't. Just.” She fidgets with her fingers. “There’s a reason why I hardly ever…”

“Off.” You quietly tell Agatha, who immediately sits up and wiggles some space between the two of you, patting the empty part of the bed.

Claire climbs on, and you somehow manage to remember the vibe still going in Agatha, and reach for the remote to shut it off.

The witch can't help her moan of relief, immediately moving to pull it out the second it's turned off, and it makes Claire give her a small smile as the both of you curl into her sides.

“Sorry to ruin the mood.” She whispers.

“Don't be.” You assure her. “We have forever to continue. The most important thing is everyone's comfortability.”

Agatha hums in agreement, and you smile as her head finds Claire's lap.

Clearly, the raven haired woman has slipped back into her relatively nonverbal headspace.

Claire pulls you closer to her, and you find your own head resting comfortably tucked against her.

“We'll continue in a little bit. I just need a few moments.” The vampire says.

“We don't have to.” You tell her.

“I know. I want to.” She assures you, one of her hands finding a place in your hair, toying with it.

You sigh in contentment as you feel your guilt lift. Claire wouldn't want you so close if she was upset with you.

You shut your eyes, wanting to enjoy the calm.

“Don't fall asleep on me, you two.” Claire sounds amused, and it further assuages your bad feelings.

“We'll try. But you're very cozy, Claire bear.” You mummer, eyes still closed.

“You'll try, you mean.” Claire still sounds amused. “Agatha's fallen right asleep.”

You laugh softly.

“Of course she did.”

“She's so cute like this.” The vampire’s tone suddenly shifts to something sadder. “Sometimes I wish she felt the way she looks when she sleeps.”

Your eyes pop open and you angle yourself so you're able to look at Claire.

“What do you mean?”

The other woman shakes her head.

“Nevermind.”

“Claire…”

She sighs.

“I just don't think she ever feels peaceful.” Claire quietly admits. “I don't think she ever…” She shakes her head again. “I'm psychoanalyzing Agatha to avoid thinking about my own problems.”

She gives you a wry grin.

“I probably shouldn't do that.”

You shrug.

“I’m probably just projecting.” Claire runs her free hand through her hair.

“Perhaps.” You close your eyes again. “But I do think you're right. I don't get the sense…” You hesitate, before pushing forward. “I don't think she's at peace with herself.”

“Are any of us?”

The question hovers in the air, an admittance, one that carries a heavy weight.

One you can't answer, not honestly.

“Maybe sleep is a good idea.” You purposefully yawn, deflecting.

Claire's arm loosens around you for a brief moment before tightening again.

“Maybe you're right.” She agrees.

And for a long time after, it's silent except for the soft sounds of gentle breathing, and you float untethered in comforting darkness.

And then suddenly you hear Claire and Agatha furiously whispering back and forth, Agatha sounding increasingly upset, while Claire sounds on the verge of tears.

“I said I don't want to talk about it.”

“Oh, but you want to cry about it?”

“Fuck off, Agatha.”

“No! This is clearly upsetting you more than you want me to know, and that's bothering me! You're always telling me to be honest.”

“That's different.”

“Fucking how, Claire?” And then, more softly, gently, “I'm not doing any of this to hurt you. But you're being so insistent that you're okay, when you're clearly not. And I don't appreciate that you thought I'd be okay with continuing to have sex when you're obviously not in a good headspace to consent to it.”

Claire's quiet.

Agatha is too, and you can feel how her concern fills up the room.

You purposefully stir, making a show of waking up.

You doubt either of your partners buy it, but it allows them to pretend their argument never happened.

“How long was I asleep?” You ask, your throat feeling rough.

“Not for very long.” Claire's voice sounds weak.

You won't embarrass her by looking to see if she's crying.

“Claire says you fell asleep almost as soon as I did, so it's probably been an hour.” Agatha says.

“Oh.”

The silence is stifling now, and you choose to burrow deeper into Claire's side.

The bed shifts a little.

“Where are you going?”

“I'll be right back. I promise.” Agatha assures Claire.

You can hear her bare feet pad across the floor and out of the room.

You break the silence after a few moments. “I'm sorry, you know.”

Claire doesn't answer, just puts her arm back around you and squeezes.

You were wrong before, Claire is upset with you.

She just doesn't want to talk about it.

You can feel tears pricking behind your eyelids.

You will not cry. You will not.

That wouldn't be fair to your mate, to make this about you.

“I remembered the cookies.” Agatha's voice floats across the room. “I figured it might be nice to see how they came out.”

Claire's arm drops as you move to sit up.

Agatha briefly frowns in your direction, but then quickly smiles.

“Cookies!” She insists. “Who can be sad in the face of chocolate?”

Claire makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat while you laugh in disbelief.

And then Agatha takes a cookie off the plate she's holding and throws it at your head.

“Ow! What was that?” You demand.

“You're both too sad.” She replies, nodding to herself. She throws a second cookie at Claire, who just blinks at it as it falls short, landing in her lap instead of against her forehead.

“Agatha…” She sighs.

“Eat the cookies! Go on. I worked so hard on them.”

You and Claire exchange a look that says is she serious?

“This is a really poor attempt to cheer up the mood.” You mutter.

“I don't know, maybe she's trying to make it worse on purpose.”

“I am right here.” Agatha glares at the pair of you. “Now eat.”

“Maybe she just has a fetish.” Claire offers.

You shudder. “Nope. No. That just. No. Ick. Ew.”

Claire flicks your shoulder.

“Some of the things we do used to be considered fetishes. Some of the things you specifically do can still be considered fetishes.”

You immediately know what she's talking about.

“Don't come for my kinks, that's so rude of you.”

“You two are impossible.” Agatha pouts, cutting off whatever Claire was about to say. “I thought you both wanted cookies.”

You glance down at the cookie in your hand, then back up to look at the witch, before throwing it back at her.

Evidently Claire had the same idea, because two flying projectiles smack Agatha, one in the face, and the other on one of her tits.

You and Claire burst out laughing.

“You guys are bullies.” Agatha whines. “I try to be nice and all I get in return is the two of you being mean to me. Well fine then, you don't have to have my cookies.”

Clearly your partner didn't think that through, because at the threat of no cookies, you and Claire immediately launch yourselves at her, flying off of the bed and tackling her to the floor.

“Don't be mean back. Haven't you ever heard of being the bigger person?” Claire asks.

“Yeah, Atha, don't bully your bullies back, that won't end well for you.”

“You just wasted at least a dozen of them.” She points out, voice muffled from her position on the bottom of the impromptu dog pile.

You look at Claire in exaggerated horror.

“Oh, no!” She mocks.

“We’ll have to make another batch!” You join.

“You're so mean.” Agatha reiterates. ��What did I ever do to deserve such cruel treatment?”

Without missing a beat, Claire casually replies, “not walking around naked often enough.”

You turn your head as much as you're able in the tangle of limbs to stare at the vampire in shock.

“You're a nudist?” You ask, incredulous.

She has the audacity to blush.

“How have you not figured that out until now?” Agatha wonders.

“I am not.” Claire defends herself. “I just happen to think Agatha should be.”

“Claire!” You giggle, scandalized.

“I also happen to think you should be one too.” She adds on.

Agatha snorts. “You just want us to be easily accessible for you.”

“What, like we aren't already? Did you know I started bulk ordering my favorite clothes because she keeps tearing them off of me? I use her credit cards too. If she can ruin them, she can pay for the damages.”

Claire makes a shocked noise. “You're betraying me! Don't team up against me with Agatha, that's what we're supposed to do against her!”

“That's so smart.” Agatha replies. “I should do that.”

It occurs to you, “...are we her sugar babies?”

Claire gasps in outrage as Agatha yells her deniance.

“Absolutely not! I pay for my own shit!”

“I am not a sugar mommy!”

And suddenly you can't stop laughing, can't stop howling over your partners extreme dislike of the suggestion.

“You're right, you're right.” You soothe between gasps for air. “Agatha's the sugar mommy. You're the sugar daddy.”

You dissolve back into full body laughter, shaking with it as you crack up.

You can't do much as Claire scoops you up and tosses you on the bed, and you can't do much as Agatha joins her in crawling to share space hovering over you.

It does, however, send you into further hysterics, because they just look like two very curious cats examining a new plaything.

Oh.

You sober very quickly.

“Uh… What are you doing..?” You hesitantly ask.

“Well since apparently we're your mommy and daddy.” Claire leans her head down so her mouth is close to your ear. “Don't you think it's our right to make our baby feel good?”

You shiver, and lick your lips.

“I-I thought that-”

“Thought what, kitten?” Agatha silkenly asks. “Don’t you know better then to think? Our little one is far too precious to hurt themselves thinking.”

You swallow as heat suddenly grows in the pit of your stomach.

“It's just… Are we all okay to do this?”

You need to check. You have to.

Claire looks at you fondly.

“Yes, love. I'm okay now. I promise.”

Agatha gives her a long glance, but tilts her head, acquiescing.

You let out a breath.

“Do you want us to make you feel good?” Agatha asks.

You nod your head.

“Please, mommy. I want you and mistress to make your baby scream for you.”

Claire chuckles throatily. “Well, doll, we're certainly happy to. After all, isn't that a mommy and daddy's job?”

You frown up at Claire.

“Do you want me to call you daddy?”

She laughs again.

“Just for right now, princess.”

“Mommy wants to hear you say it.” Agatha whispers in your ear. “Say how much you want daddy to fuck you stupid.”

“Please.” You sound so desperate, even to your own ears. “I want daddy to ruin her precious baby for mommy. Please, please, fuck me dumb.”

“Oh, kitten.” Claire coos. “You sound so pretty when you beg.”

“I wanna feel you.” You whine. “Please, mistress.”

Agatha chuckles low in her throat.

“Let her up, daddy.” She says to Claire. “I can hold her still while you make them scream our names.”

You whine again. “I'll be so good, please.”

“Please, who, little one?” The vampire's eyes never left your own.

“Please, daddy.” You obey. “I want you to touch me.”

At that, Claire shifts, allowing you the space to get up and move, and you crawl into Agatha's lap, turning around in it, so that your back is pressed against her chest.

“Such a good kitten for us.” The raven haired woman praises. “Now spread your legs for daddy. Show her what a slut you are.”

You can feel heat rising to your cheeks as humiliation swirls through you, but you're good and listen.

Claire's eye's burn against where they've latched on to your wet center.

“Oh, kitten.” She breathes out. “You're dripping.”

Agatha's fingers dance their way down your sides, as Claire remains fixated on how you clench around nothing, her nose flaring as she inhales your scent.

“Hold her still, Agatha.”

At those four simple words, the witch's fingers stop what they're doing as she encloses you in her arms, a light buzz of magic washing over your skin, stimulating you, and you can't help the moan that makes its way out of you.

And then suddenly Claire’s mouth is all over you, and you shiver as you feel her fangs graze the skin of your inner thighs.

If her fangs are out that means the night will end with her feeding from you, and the very thought of it is nearly enough to make you cum in the spot as your entire body is overtaken with arousal.

“Fuck, daddy.” Agatha groans behind you as the vampire gently bites and sucks at the soft skin. “You're already making her all empty-headed.”

“Good.” Claire chuckles, and you whimper at how it vibrates against you. “Maybe I can make you both cum without even having to touch you, bunny.”

You hear a thunk, and know that Agatha must have thrown her head back against the headboard at the suggestion.

That's when you feel Claire's tongue start to gently lap at you, and you try to buck your hips closer to the source of the thing bringing you pleasure, but between the vampire's strong hands, and Agatha's magic, you find yourself utterly immobile.

“Mistress.” You whimper.

She sharply slaps your thigh and you cry out, not from the pain, but from the suddenness of it.

Agatha's breath is hot against your ear as she whispers, “you have to call her daddy, angel. You were mean to her, and you don't get to call her mistress until you've proven you can be her good pet again.”

You choke on a sob as Claire briefly sucks your clit into her mouth before going back to licking teasingly at you.

“Daddy!” Your voice hitches.

“Silly slut.” Agatha pants in your ear. “If you can't keep yourself quiet, I'll just have to make you.”

When blackened digits press against your mouth, you readily accept them, allowing Agatha to thrust them in and out, causing you to gag a little around them.

“Fuck.” The witch groans as Claire scraps her teeth gently over your bundle of nerves. “You're such a perfect little whore for mommy and daddy, kitten.”

You whine around the fingers in your mouth, and drool dribbles out from around them.

“You're so messy, too.” Agatha's magic is enough to keep you in your place, and her other hand comes around to lightly press against the front of your throat, reminding you of the collar you're wearing as she causes it to dig a little into your skin. “Such a filthy fucking whore.”

Words are far too difficult to use as Claire's tongue finally, finally buries itself into your gushing hole, and both your partners moan as you scream with pleasure, a wordless, high pitched sound that tapers off into whimpers, clearly heard despite Agatha's fingers occupying your mouth.

Claire's tongue is driving you wild as you attempt to toss your head every which way, unable to move your body properly due to how tightly Claire and Agatha are holding you in place, a constant series of whines emitting from the back of your throat, despite how deep Agatha is shoving her fingers into you.

And then your mate says something right against your core, right as Agatha's mouth latches onto where your neck and shoulder meet, and you're gone, careening over the edge into utter ecstasy.

It's pure bliss, the pleasure that courses through you, so much so that you aren't aware of your own body, just the buzzing in your ears and the sensation of your orgasm ripping through you.

Your high doesn't fade, it only grows, and black spots dance in your vision as you suddenly become aware of just how loudly you're screaming, crying out your lovers names over and over like a holy mantra, and the heat in the pit of your belly fully snaps, and warmth races through you.

And then you feel it splashing against your thighs, dripping down and soaking the sheets below you, and heat rushes up to your cheeks as you realize you've squirted.

You neck aches, but you can't find it in yourself to lift it up from where it's thrown back, your ears ringing, and you blink the black spots out of your vision, though it only blurs, as Claire continues to gently lick at you, making you whimper as jolts of arousal cause your body to jerk around.

Agatha has a tight grip on your sides, and you're sure it'll bruise later, while you slowly start to become aware of how heavily she's panting as the noise in your ears fade.

“Daddy, stop.” You whine. “‘M so sen’ive”

Somehow Agatha's grip on you becomes stronger “Don't, don't fucking stop, I'm so close.” She hisses.

But it's not her body that's being pleasured, it's yours, and you groan as Claire lifts her face up, your wetness covering her.

You whimper at the sight, and you can feel a renewed rush of arousal pulse through you.

“‘S’okay.” You get out. “Want mommy to feel good.”

“Such a sweet kitten.” The vampire coos. “Are you sure?”

You nod as your eyes flutter close.

“Make her cum.” You insist.

Agatha's head buries itself against your neck.

“Thank you, baby.” She whispers against you. “So good for me, so good for your mommy.”

Claire waits, just a for a few more seconds before readjusting herself, laying back down on her stomach so she can continue to eat you out.

Instantly your throw your head back again, and it takes less than a minute for tears of pleasure to start rolling down the sides of your face as you desperately try to withstand this unique torture for as long as possible, wanting to hold off your impending orgasm so that Agatha's can properly build up.

You can feel how her own wetness drips out of her, can feel the warmth of it from how closely she has you pressed against her, and she starts frantically bucking her hips, searching for friction, and in the process rutting herself against your backside.

“Fuck!” You hear her cry out. “I need you in me, daddy!”

Your breath catches in a soundless scream as Claire brutally shoves three fingers into you, still licking at your folds, grazing her teeth against your clit, and you're barely hanging on by a thread, can only just push off cumming when Agatha decides to bite down hard on your shoulder, and you cry out as the thread snaps.

Your own orgasm is only prolonged as you can feel Agatha's racing through her, can feel how her essence gushes out from her, can't help but loving how she marks you so intimately.

Your head spins from the combined high, and you feel so dizzy and light, relaxing into the floating sensation of it.

Vaguely you can note how Agatha has dissipated her magic, can note how her arms are now softly holding you as she breathes heavily into where she buried her face against your hair, can note how Claire is gently scolding the witch for drawing blood.

You'll appreciate the irony of that later.

For now, you just want to stay floating, want to stay in this wonderful sensation of lightness and nothingness.

Unfortunately, Agatha decides to be mean, and you find yourself being gently pushed away from her, and you fall forward, your face being buried into the bed.

You wordlessly whine your discontent.

“Sh… I know, princess.” Claire soothes, her fingers dancing down your back. “Let mommy move out of the way and then you can lay back down.”

You whine again, and Claire's fingers stop in warning.

Barely a few more seconds pass before warm hands guide you up and backwards, and you can't help but moan at the sight that greets you.

“If the next words out of your mouth is to ask if you can suck on my tits, the answer is no.”

You huff, annoyed.

If Claire doesn't want you to suck on her breasts then she shouldn't lean over you like this, teasing you with how they’re directly in your face.

Agatha laughs from where she's sitting, kneeling on the bed a little bit behind Claire.

It's entirely unfair she looks so unaffected from cumming so hard while you can barely get your limbs to obey your instructions.

“They're welcome to suck on mine, daddy.”

You scowl, upset. You don't want Agatha's, you want Claire's.

“You've gotten greedy, little one.” Claire's tone is sharp.

You pout.

“Just wanna feel close to you, daddy.”

“If you're big enough to have found words to use, you're big enough to listen.” The vampire reprimands. “Now wait, like a good girl. Mommy has been very good waiting for daddy to touch her.”

You pout, but settle back against the pillows, watching Agatha shiver as Claire practically pounces on her though your heavy eyelids, exhaustion starting to creep up on you.

Agatha's moan as Claire's mouth meets her neck makes you clench around nothing, arousal unfairly throbbing through you even as you can feel sleep pressing against the edges of your consciousness.

You whine softly, well aware you're on your way to the realm of dreams, but can't help desiring to stay awake and watch what is sure to be Claire turning Agatha into a babbling, desperate slut.

Your small noises are too quiet for either of your partners to hear, even with Claire having enhanced hearing, their own noises drowning anything else out as Claire teases her way down Agatha's body, the vampire leaving bruises and hickies all over the exposed skin.

Your thighs and legs are starting to feel sticky, the wetness that coated them starting to dry, and as uncomfortable as it is, you can't seem to find in yourself to fight your leaden feeling limbs, and you gently allow your eyes to shut.

The sounds of Agatha begging and Claire's muffled moans accompany you as the darkness presses soothingly down behind your eyes, and you can feel any remaining tension drain from you as you fully relax into the pillows.

Safe, your mind whispers. Loved. Protected.

You can't help the small smile that graces your lips, can't help the way you give yourself over to the all encompassing feeling that fills you up and makes you feel warm all over.

And even though the bed rocks, even though your partners are being so, so loud, you find it all soothing, reassuring.

You don't quite fall asleep, laying somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, and the only thing you're fully aware of is the presence of your lovers.

You aren't startled when you feel something wet glide up and down your sticky thighs, and you sigh in contentment as they begin to feel clean.

“Have a good rest, princess?” Claire asks, her voice hoarse. “Agatha's running a bath for all of us, I just wanted to clean you up a bit first.”

Your attempt at a noise of agreement falls short, the breath getting caught in your lungs, your body still too tired to really do much more than lay there and listen.

“We're almost done, do you think if I help you can lay on your front?”

You try to nod your head this time, but all it does is loll to the side, your eyes still closed, heavy with content exhaustion.

Claire chuckles throatily, and somehow you hear yourself whining.

“Come on, doll. I've got you.” She soothes, warm hands guiding you from your current position until you find yourself with your cheek pressed against the bed and cool air making you shiver as the sticky feeling comes back, this time all over your ass.

“I know, baby.” Claire lightly runs the washcloth over your backside. “You'll feel better in just a few seconds. And oh, would you hear that? Agatha's turned off the tap, the bath must be ready.”

You've find enough willpower to make a sound of agreement.

There's silence for a few moments after that, and then Claire's warm hands return, pushing you as carefully as she can onto your back, before scooping you up into her arms.

You merely curl up into her chest, her slow heartbeat soothing as you feel her walking.

“Is she asleep?” Agatha's low voice slightly echoes.

“‘M on’y half.” Your own voice comes out rough, though it's mostly with sleep rather than because it's sore.

Soft lips press against your head as tender fingers card through your hair.

“I love you, angel.” Agatha whispers against your skull.

“I love you, Atha.” You mumble into Claire's chest, where you still have your face buried. “‘An I love you, Claire bear.”

A set of cold hands make you whimper as Claire's warm ones shift you into the icier pair, and as you settle against Agatha's chest, the vampire hums, “and I love you, princess.”

You can feel her body pressing against you, and hear her give Agatha a kiss.

They don't say any words to one another, but you all know what's being said.

Claire moves away, and you hear something splash against the water as Agatha's magic buzzes around you.

“Alright, I'm ready, doll.”

Agatha walks a few paces before you hear her step into the bathtub, and she carefully lowers herself so that she's laying back, presumably against Claire.

When Agatha uses her magic to shift you to lay against her, you sigh, relaxing into her arms that have wrapped themselves around you, and into the warm water.

“Go to sleep, my love.” The witch quietly says. “We have you.”

You want to put up a fight, you want to enjoy the moment, but in truth you know you won't be able to get your eyes open, let alone keeping them that way, and you sigh again.

“I love you.” You repeat.

“We love you, darling.” Claire's voice is louder than Agatha's. “We'll take care of you.”

And as Agatha lays a kiss to your shoulder you fully relax, letting everything fall limp as the calming darkness of sleep claims you.

#sky writes #c: agatha #c: vampire!claire #claire debella #agatha harkness #claire debella x agatha harkness x reader #claire debella x reader #claire debella x agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #they're all so stupid and so fluffy and I love them so much your honor #kathryn hahn

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everythingsinred · 10 months

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 40)

Hey! I played Just Dance with Zoe and then decided I was just gonna post this last part because I don't want it hanging over me. It's July and I just exercised and it's really friggin' hot and I'm sweating but I'm gonna post this so I don't forget tomorrow.

That's right, folks! Just one more part in the forty part essay special by yours truly about everyone's favorite shoujo manga couple (I speak for everyone on the planet, yes)!

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Kageki no Kuni no Alice Chapter Four

Kageki is a step-up from the last few chapters because… well, because I get to pretend like those chapters just didn’t happen. There’s a lot I don’t like about Kageki, but I like the NatsuMikan, which there is a fair amount of! And that’s what I’ll be discussing today. Hopefully that’ll lighten the mood from last time. Though! I don't have much new to say that I didn't already say in Natsume's version. I'll do my best so we can end on a high note!

Natsume and Mikan are at the Opera School in order to visit Aoi, because they do everything together. But Natsume is also being ridiculously cold to one of Aoi’s classmates, Tsubasa’s sister, for no real reason. So Mikan and Aoi both scold him for being mean. Mikan apologizes for Natsume’s sake and we get a glimpse of the fact that they both have matching promise rings.

RINGS!!!! They're gonna get married!!!

This is pretty big because as far as we know, Mikan just got back to the Academy a few weeks ago, and only part of her memories were recovered, but somehow in that time, her romance with Natsume has rekindled enough that she once more wants to get married to him… though this rekindling occurred off-page. Sigh.

This chapter is presented in a strange way, jumping around in time, starting with a confrontation and then rewinding. I think it’s to introduce Natsume and Mikan right away for fans so they keep reading, but it makes things jumbled up. Natsume is as handsome and popular as ever, and quickly gets the attention of the Opera Troupe girls, but this excitement is dampened by Mikan’s enthusiastic arrival because oh dang he’s taken.

That's right!

Mikan is excited to meet Hikari, because she loves Tsubasa, and it’s funny to see her speaking for herself and Natsume (because they are an item!), much to his chagrin, loudly proclaiming their joint appreciation for Tsubasa’s care. What I like about that is that Mikan and Natsume are a unit at this point, which is what makes her feel comfortable speaking for his feelings in the first place. “I” becomes “we.”

Hikari grabs onto this, that Mikan knows Tsubasa, and tries to get more information out of her. Mikan is affected by pretty faces, as we know, and Hikari is beautiful (or handsome? Since she’s characterized by a sense of masculinity in this story but honestly I've never read this manga in its entirety so I wouldn't really know), so she gets overwhelmed and Natsume ultimately ruins the mood again by stressing to Hikari that her brother wants her to leave.

I'm so delighted we can get back to NM content that makes me feel something!

Mikan scolds him for being harsh, though he claims he’s just not interested in sugarcoating. Hikari gets depressed and Mikan is again affected, though Natsume doesn’t like that. Then Thoma arrives, and the atmosphere between him and Natsume tenses, which spurs Mikan to ask what their relationship is. It could be simple curiosity or actual jealousy, whichever. If it is jealousy, then it’s interesting to note that the both of them are a little possessive of the other. Mikan certainly doesn’t seem to mind being monopolized by Natsume, but this could suggest she’s monopolizing him too.

Natsume starts to leave and Mikan rushes after him. That makes me think that she could have been feeling jealousy, but mostly that she is just as intent on spending as much time together as he is. He can’t leave without her when she came to spend time with him!

They are a married couple, even if they're not married yet.

When they leave, they’re joined by Narumi, who calls Natsume kind and thus gives Mikan a new impression of what he was doing with Hikari. It’s hard to tell with Natsume, honestly, because his kindness and cruelty all look the same. When Natsume confronts Naru by asking if Hikari was dragged into the school for Thoma’s sake, Naru denies it. Then he brings up the manipulative action of scouting Mikan for the Academy, leading to their meeting and falling in love. He turns to Mikan and asks if she thinks that was a mistake, coming to the Academy and meeting everyone.

It's refreshing to go back to "everyone" again, to remember the sheer number of people Mikan loves. Her alice stone was created by the thoughts of many loved ones, after all, not just Natsume, not just Hotaru. There is not just one name written on her heart.

She must no longer hide behind everyone or we... She can initiate affection like this. Isn't that amazing?

She grabs Natsume’s hand and says “Not at all!” looking him straight in the eyes, so he knows she’s telling him, “How could I regret something that brought me to you?” This makes it personal. Yes, she's happy to have met everyone else and they are all dear, but reassuring Natsume means letting him know how much he specifically matters to her. She trusts Narumi because she’s sure he has good intentions. After all, with everything that happened on her side of things, Narumi seems to have only been helpful. This is also a callback to Narumi requesting that Mikan have faith in him, despite his recent betrayal with the letters. Mikan chose to trust him then and never stopped. Natsume seems to cave, because he's weak when it comes to her, but he admonishes Naru for being manipulative.

Natsume then tells Mikan not to hang around Naru or Hikari anymore, just a little taste of what Natsume monopolizing Mikan looks like. He obviously knows that Mikan will not listen to that, but it’s his way of communicating that he dislikes Naru manipulating her or the way she behaved around Hikari. Mikan just says “huh?” though, so his message might not have gone through the way he liked.

Chapter Five

There’s not much I can analyze in Kageki that I didn’t already mention in Natsume’s version because they spend literally all their time together. On top of that, we get little of their perspectives, and mainly see them through Hikari’s eyes. So if this is short or minimal… oops.

Hikari is being stalked and bullied by Bear, and Natsume gets annoyed that she’s not angrier with him. This is a plot thing, but I always think of Mikan and how much I love her rage and how Higuchi ultimately drained her of all of it for the sake of being a smiley girl who makes everyone happy even to her own detriment. To me, he might be saying these words to Hikari, but he’s talking to Mikan too.

We're not just talking about Hikari, are we?

Mikan and Natsume are here as loving parents to pick Bear up from school, and Mikan is more focused on gathering Bear while Natsume is scolding Hikari. When Hikari’s cousin arrives to defend her, claiming that Hikari is just incredibly disciplined with her feelings, Natsume counters that she’s really just repressing them. (SOUNDS LIKE MIKAN!) I don’t think Natsume would be as adamant about this if it didn’t connect to Mikan. Maybe this is something they talk about, or something that will soon become a conversation. In any case, Mikan doesn’t seem to take any of what he’s saying personally, so maybe it’s not getting through to her.

In any case, Natsume goes a little overboard insulting Thoma, who instantly dismisses him by telling him to go home, which he does, but not before setting a fire that Mikan rushes to put out. After that, Mikan rushes after him. Because she has to be wherever he is. It's not just Natsume monopolizing her. It goes both ways.

There’s a big to-do about Hikari and Bear and anger and acting and Tsubasa, which I won’t get into mainly because I don’t really care. All that matters is Natsume using a non-burning fire and Mikan being impressed at the control he has over his alice. Like, "Wow, my boyfriend is so cool!"

Chapter 5.5 Omake

This omake takes place after Natsume was ordered to go home, so he and Mikan are doing just that, hand in hand. Where he goes, she goes, and vice versa. A clingy couple.

GSHDFJHJKFGHKJDFJFHJFFJFGHSJFGDSHJFHAGSHK Thank you for listening to my Ted Talk.

Mikan asks what’s up with Natsume’s behavior with Thoma and Narumi pops out of the blue to explain that Natsume took her absence hard and that he strayed from the right path. Mikan is happy to see Naru; Natsume isn’t. All typical. But Mikan is confused because if Natsume skipped grades, shouldn’t that mean he was a good student and worked hard? And Naru says yes, that he did work hard, but by going on missions (THAT’S A CRIME NARUMI). Mikan is instantly concerned, because she watched him die once before and doesn’t ever want to experience that loss again, so Narumi assures her that none of the missions were at all physically taxing. That doesn’t eliminate her concern, though, until Natsume messes with her a little.

In any case, Natsume re-enrolled as a high schooler when Mikan returned, so he could capitalize on her new presence. Mikan is excited to see Shiki and Narumi again when they appear, and they offer to show her Natsume’s middle school pics which she is excited to see until Natsume pulls her away, greedily. This chapter further teases Mikan and Natsume's rings, their inevitable wedding. Additionally, we see that there's some conversations yet to be had, particularly about what Natsume has been up to without her. She obviously wants to have these discussions, since she asks questions and then is so eager to see his middle school pictures, but it seems like Natsume is content now to completely leave that era in the past now that he has his girlfriend back.

Chapter Six

Mikan and the SA class are getting ready for the Culture Fest. Natsume complains about the Opera School students coming to visit the Academy campus during such a busy time, but he’s not really doing anything, so it feels unfair for him to say.

Mikan doesn’t seem to mind that she’s being followed by a leech, and she teases him. She doesn't need him to help. He's just there so they can be together, and if he doesn't contribute anything, then that's fine too, as long as he's around. But the teasing never ends, because they wouldn't be NatsuMikan without it. This is crucial, because their bickering was never a cover-up for anything like it sometimes is for other bickering couples. For them, the bickering was always a relief. For Natsume, he could act immature and childish with someone when he’d been forced into a far more adult role in his life. For Mikan, it’s a way for her to cheer up when she’s feeling down, because bickering with him makes them both happy. The fact that they’re now officially a couple doesn’t eliminate the bickering, it just eliminates the pretense about it.

I'm sniffling...

Chapter 11.5 Omake

This is an outtake chapter surrounding Hikari searching for inspiration for her acting in a kiss scene. Tsubasa can’t help her for some reason, even though he’s in a relationship (inexplicably, his relationship is described as “new,” even though he and Misaki have been dating for like five years at this point). Thus, she must look elsewhere for romantic inspiration. And where better than Natsume and Mikan out and eating floating soft serve ice cream together?

She gets the ice cream all over her face and, since there’s nobody around, he licks it off her. She seems to find that silly and cute and laughs as he does so, though she is blushing. Will Mikan ever stop blushing around Natsume though? I don’t think so. It’s nice though that their affection is so reciprocal now. She doesn’t even freak out, really, which implies that there’s more intimacy to this extent happening away from the reader’s prying eyes.

This was given to us because Higuchi felt bad about what she made us go through with the wretched final chapters. I appreciate the apology, actually, but I think we all agree we could use some more apologies of this nature.

They’re interrupted and it’s only then that Mikan freaks out, embarrassed to be seen doing something so weird. Very interesting! Maybe they'll work up to PDA status later. Nobody likes a voyeur, which is what the others are right now, but getting spied on while you're kissing is a little different than typical PDA. Who knows!

Conclusion

This is my last NM conclusion as far as I know now. How cute they are in this little spin-off manga! It lifts my spirits. Hopefully, seeing them all cutesy lifted your spirits too.

Anyway, friends, I'm genuinely remorseful that the last few parts of this essay were so negative and bitter. I'm usually not one to linger on those parts of GA. My mind is firmly rooted in various AU endings so I tend to be pretty chill about my feelings, but when I have to specifically address everything, it all comes to the surface and I get a little bitter. I'm really sorry it had to be that way.

In any case, despite the bitterness towards the end, writing this essay was genuinely a blast for me. It was nice to put my feelings about this manga into words.

I started writing this essay on April 12, 2015 (which means I was sixteen at the time). I always knew the exact order I'd write this essay in, because my main motivation in analyzing GA was to present my thesis about Mikan genuinely being in love with Natsume. Back then, I'd seen one too many tumblr posts about Mikan being "obligated" to be with Natsume because he was dying or because of comphet or because Natsume scared her or silly things like that and it pissed me off. Additionally, I was bombarded with people calling Mikan a Mary Sue or disregarding her character. I remember seeing posts like that in the dark ages and thinking, "Did these people even read the manga? Do they even pay attention to Mikan?"

I'd see those posts and roll my eyes. I'd read a grossly OOC Mikan in a fic and sigh exasperatedly. I'd see people disparaging her and I'd disapprove. I'd know deep down that Mikan does love Natsume and that she's much more than people are leading on. I knew they were wrong, but I more or less left it at that.

But then I'd ask myself what exactly it was that they were missing and I'd have to confront the fact that I was thinking based on vibes and "just because" and there's no evidence in that. Was I paying much attention to her either? So one day, probably in between ranting to Zoe, I opened up a Google Doc and decided I'd do the hard work and analyze the whole fucking manga to prove my point. Besides, there was no real analysis for NM out there, so I'd take one for the team and do it. But it wasn't enough to analyze NM. There's too much going on there to leave it to one essay.

After all, most people think of anime scenes when they think of the earlier chapters, and that's not accurate, so I'd have to distinguish between the anime and the manga. But it's not enough to simply distinguish! The anime contains scenes worth discussing, since NM is pretty different there. Thus, the essay had to be divided between manga and anime. But that wasn't enough, either, because analyzing Natsume and Mikan's feelings in one essay was sure to give me a headache, which means this project had to be three parts, and Mikan had to be last. She always had to be last, my grand finale to prove that she was no Mary Sue, that her love for Natsume was built up from the beginning, and that she had depth and growth that should be appreciated.

It is now July 27, 2023 at around 11 PM. I'm now finished.

Altogether, across all three essays, I wrote about 243,240 words about NatsuMikan. Hundreds of pages in my Google Docs. This would be a huge book. And if anyone out there read all of it? You're a damn trooper. I appreciate you so much.

To all my readers, the ones who stuck with me from the beginning, or the ones who find it long after I press post on this last one, the ones who read each word, or the ones who skimmed to the analysis of their favorite scenes, I thank you. To everyone who left a comment, I thank you. To everyone who reached out to tell me their thoughts, I thank you. To @crimsoncitrus for helping me out with plenty of the translations throughout this process, thank you! To @thesightofworms, for being my favorite person to rant to about GA, I very much thank you. And to Higuchi Tachibana, I thank you. I do have beef with some of your choices, but creating manga is no small feat and you wrote 180 chapters for us to consume and I am beyond grateful that you have created something so enduring and important to me, something I have never been able to move on from.

I have loved GA since I was twelve years old and I show no signs of stopping. This is just one labor of love of many to come. I'll never shut up about this manga. Today I finish a very long project that I've had on my mind since I was a teenager. Tomorrow I'll pursue another. I can't imagine I'll ever stop coming up with projects for GA. :)

Took me long enough, but we're done now! I love you all. Have a wonderful day <3

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your-divine-ribs · 3 months

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One For The Wedding Album Part 1

Words: 3.7k

I’ve been asked for Part 2 of this and it’s still in my drafts and I do promise to complete it one day 🌸

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"For fuck's sake! Who requested Mr Brightside again?" You squeal tipsily.

The music's pounding and your head is spinning, a giddy feeling taking over as you feel a large hand close over one of yours as someone tugs you on to the dancefloor and spins you around to face them.

"John, I can't dance anymore, my feet are killing me!" You cry over the music, but Bondy's not hearing any of it, shaking his head at your protesting, pointing down at the strappy satin covered stiletto heels that you're wearing.

"Told ya you should have worn your docs!" Bondy chuckles. "Never see ya out of those bloody things, so why should today be any different?"

You roll your eyes playfully at him. "Oh yeah, they'd look great with my dress! Really elegant! Sure Van would have loved that!"

"I know you could carry it off though lass... and I don't think our Van would have minded what you turned up in today." He's still got your hand clasped tightly in his, lifted up, his other hand on your waist, and he's leading you around the dancefloor in a much less sophisticated version of an old-fashioned waltz, twirling you around every so often, making your head spin even more.

You're on top of the world. You're with all your family and friends, the drinks are flowing and you've been smiling so wide and for so long that your cheeks are actually starting to ache. You're having the absolute best day of your whole life. Exactly six hours and fifteen minutes ago you'd said "I do" to the one man who you'd loved since the very first moment you'd clapped eyes on him. You're a married woman. And not just any married woman. You're Mrs McCann.

Just the mere thought of your new name is enough to set off that daft, goofy smile on your face again but you don't have time to ponder it for long. The whole function room bursts into song again at the chorus, screeching out the well-known and much-loved lyrics at the tops of their lungs.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

"No more... no more... my feet are seriously gonna drop off!" You whine, twisting yourself out of Bondy's arms, ignoring his pleas for you to kick off your shoes and just let loose, promising him that you'll be back to dance with him later on.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in wide beaming smiles wherever you look. Your dad and Bernie are having what looks like some ridiculous kind of dad-dancing dance-off competition, your mum and Mary are setting the world to rights over a bottle of champagne and your best friend and chief bridesmaid Kerry is drunkenly and very provocatively draped over a rather flustered looking Bob, much to Benji's delight. He's taken Bob's Polaroid camera and is snapping away, immortalising the moment. You giggle to yourself, taking a swig from your half-drunken glass of bubbly before setting it down on a nearby table.

Now where did that husband of yours get to...?

Husband...

You let the word roll around inside your head for a bit, trying it out for size, seeing how it feels. You even find yourself whispering it under your breath, a flurry of excited butterflies teaming in your belly as the concept starts to finally sink in. Today is just the start of it. The first day of the rest of your lives together. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part and all that jazz.

You're so caught up in your thoughts you don't notice the tall figure right behind you until you feel large hands on your hips, making you jump and whirl quickly around.

"There you are! Where did you disappear off to? Was just about to send out a search party!"

"Just been out for a smoke with Larry, that's all love. I'm here now."

Van's looking decidedly less suave now than he did when you were standing in front of the altar together earlier that afternoon. His hair's all mussed up, his tie's askew and the flowers in his button-hole have wilted, but the sparkle that's been simmering in those gorgeous blue eyes is still present. In fact he's positively glowing as he looks at you, deeply into your eyes before his gaze slips lower, shamelessly raking over your body.

You know that look. You've seen it a million times before over the course of your relationship. And you know exactly what's coming next.

"Fancy... errr... sneaking off for a bit? You know... just me and you... somewhere quiet?"

As he talks his fingers slide down to your hips, flexing there, his own hips pushing forward to just barely brush yours.

You smirk up at him. "Thought the whole idea of getting married was about you making an honest woman out of me?"

"Yeah well, I've never fucked a married woman before," he grins. "The thought's kinda turning me on if I'm honest. C'mon Y/N, no one'll miss us. I've been dying to get my hands on you all day since you walked into that church."

You shake your head, tutting loudly. "Impure thoughts in church? How very unholy of you."

"I can't help it babe, you look gorgeous in that dress. Don't even wanna take it off when I fuck you, wanna ruin you in it whilst you're looking all pure and pretty."

"Van!" You cry, your hand shooting up to your mouth, your cheeks aflame, giggling loudly.

He knows damn well how much his dirty talk turns you on and you're tempted. You really are. You glance around, seeing everyone dancing and drinking and having fun.

He's right, even though you two are the stars of the show today you don't think anyone would miss you if you were to disappear off for a little while. There's no denying the thought of Van pressing you into the wall of the toilet cubicle whilst he's hitching up the pristine silk of your virginal ivory white dress has set off a throbbing heat between your thighs, but you're having so much fun you don't want to miss a second of the celebrations. And besides, you'll have all the time in the world at the end of the night. You have the bridal suite booked with its gigantic king sized bed and sumptuous satin sheets, a mini bar stocked with champagne on ice and a huge sunken bath. You can take your time with one another then.

"C'mon..." he urges, that irresistible cheeky grin of his playing on his lips. "Ya know you want to."

You place your hands over his, leaning into him and planting a sweet, chaste kiss on those lips, drawing back slightly but staying close so you can whisper teasingly into his ear. "The best thing's come to those who wait... and you're just gonna have to wait!"

Then you're off, ignoring his protestations, entwining one of your hands in his and leading him in the opposite direction to his intended plans, straight on to the dancefloor where a Van Morrison track has just started to play. Bernie immediately makes a beeline for his son, stealing him away from you so he can clap a hand around his shoulder and sway drunkenly to the melody as they animatedly belt out the lyrics in unison.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance

With the stars up above in your eyes

A fantabulous night to make romance

'Neath the cover of October skies

You watch them for a moment before Bondy's there again, reaching for you and twirling you around until you're giggling and dizzy, laughing and stumbling, falling into his arms.

An hour's past and the party's still in full flow. Larry and Bondy have been up dancing on the tables, Benji's been throwing some serious shapes on the dancefloor and even Bob's letting his hair down. You noticed Kerry sneakily leading him away to a dimmed corner of the function room after their slow dance had looked like it was getting a little heated. They're currently making out like high-schoolers would around the back of the bike-sheds. You wonder whether Bob will still remember it tomorrow when he awakens with a sore head and remnants of Kerry's lipstick all over his face.

Van's trapped in between two older female relatives who are fussing and preening over him and his eyes keep darting to you with a pleading "help me" type of expression. You just grin and lean in to take a shot with Bob's camera, laughter erupting from you when one of Van's aunts puckers up to press a sloppy kiss on his cheek, telling him what a handsome boy he is.

"Smile for the camera Van!" You chortle, ignoring the helpless look in his eyes when the other aunt leans and and starts ruffling his hair, talking about how it needs a good cut.

Then you're dancing away, taking snap-shots as you go, capturing those perfect and sometimes hilarious moments in time for your wedding album so that you and Van can look back on them in the weeks and months and even years to come, fondly remembering your special day.

"Oi blushing bride, aren't you supposed to be the one in front of the camera today?"

Kerry's suddenly at your side, snatching the camera out of your hands and turning the lens on you. You yelp in surprise but recover quickly, leaning in with your hands on your hips and a saucy pout whilst she snaps away.

"Oh my god Y/N, you look so beautiful today," she gushes as she retrieves one of the freshly printed photos to admire. "I hope Van realises what a lucky man he is to have you. I don't think he deserves you to be honest. Think I might just have to steal you away for myself!"

She hooks her arm through yours and makes like she's turning for the door, then you're both falling about laughing, holding the Polaroid up to snap a few daft, crazy-faced selfies. You're laughing that much that you've got tears of mirth brimming in your eyes and starting to track down your cheeks. You go to brush one away with the heel of your hand when you notice a black smear on your skin and you let out a groan.

"Ah shit! I knew I should have bought waterproof mascara for today. It was bad enough when I was sobbing at Van's vows but look at me now. I must look like a panda bear!" You turn towards Kerry, tilting your face up to hers. "Is it bad? Is it fixable? I must look such a mess!"

Your friend just laughs, shaking her head. "You look absolutely fine... gorgeous as always! If you don't believe me go and look for yourself!"

You gather up the silky layers of your dress and rush off in the direction of the toilets, cursing when you get there and you realise that you've brought Bob's camera with you in your haste to fix your make-up. The last thing you want is to drop his precious camera on the tiled bathroom floor, especially when he'd shyly admitted that he'd brought it with him especially tonight to gift it to you as a special wedding present to preserve the memories of the day. You place it carefully down on the side of the sink and step back to look at your reflection.

Your dress is gorgeous. Even as modest and unassuming as you are you can't help but admit that you do look stunning in it. It has a beautifully cut bodice embellished with tiny diamantés and freshwater pearls and a breathtaking full layered skirt which floats around your feet like you're walking on clouds. Even your less than sentimental dad had shed a tear and mumbled that you looked like a Disney Princess in it.

It's just a shame that the rest of you doesn't look quite so pristine now. Your hair which had been painstakingly curled and styled around the delicate tiara is now hanging around your bare shoulders in wild cascading waves and your make up is smudged. You're not even sure where your tiara is but you'd last sighted it perched on Bondy's head a few hours previously.

You run a fingertip gently under your eye to try and collect the mascara and eyeliner that's ran, but you just end up smudging it even more.

Despite what your best friend says in your opinion you look a mess... a gorgeous mess but a mess all the same... but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...

Your thoughts stray to a few weeks back and a wild passionate night with Van after you'd stumbled home in the early hours, how you'd huffed at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and reached for a wipe to clear off your ruined make-up. How Van had snuck up behind you and grasped your wrist, telling you that no... he liked it... that seeing you all raw and disheveled like this in gorgeous disarray turned him on. He'd fucked you right there and then over the sink, pressing you into the cold hard porcelain whilst he'd grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at your reflection, telling you how beautiful you were when he made you fall apart for him. The thought makes warmth rise to your cheeks and it's not the only part of you that's heating up.

You squirm where you stand, pressing your thighs together, feeling the whisper of soft lace between your legs, thinking about the stunning ivory set you'd purchased especially for this day. You just know Van will go wild when he catches sight of it. But not yet... he's going to have to wait.

Teasing him is so much fun though...

An idea comes to you suddenly in a flash of wicked inspiration and you quickly hitch up your dress and take a naughty snap in the mirror, angled just right to show Van a glimpse of the alluring treat he'll get if he behaves himself and bides his time. Then you take another shot holding the camera aloft and looking up at the lens through your smoky, smudged loaded lashes, wide eyed and sultry looking, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Perfect.

You emerge from the toilets shortly after and you don't have to look very hard to find Van this time. As soon as your lock eyes with his across the dancefloor he strides straight over with purpose.

"Baby..." he drawls, dragging out the word slow and smooth, a hand curling around your waist, drawing you in. "If I didn't know any better I'd think my gorgeous new wife was trying to avoid me. Ya wouldn't do that would ya?"

"Of course not, I was just coming to find you actually. Got you a little... errr... wedding gift." You hold up the camera whilst you're talking and Van's attention shifts to see what you're holding, puzzlement creasing his brow.

"Oh yeah? What's that then?"

You produce the Polaroid photos, keeping them raised up and away from Van's seeking hand when he goes to take them, fixing him with a look that's pure seductiveness, ramping up the intrigue.

"Ahh, no you don't... not yet. Think you've been a good boy so far, so I'm sure you can wait a little longer. Just thought you might like a little taster of what you'll be getting later..."

Then you slip the photos quickly into the breast pocket of his jacket, nudging aside the flowers in his buttonhole, patting the material with teasing fingers as you look up at him, informing him that he'll have to wait his turn as there's another man who's been craving your attention all evening too.

As you back away to find your dad for that slow dance that you'd promised him earlier, you keep your eyes on Van, watching his reaction as he quickly slips the photos out for a sneaky look. Just as predicted his eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack, the unmistakable longing etched all over his awed expression as he meets your gaze across the dancefloor with a hungry look that can only mean one thing.

You're gonna get it later...

You smile lasciviously, your belly flipping somersaults at the thought of consummating the life vows you made to each other that very afternoon.

Sex had never been a priority in your life before you'd met Van, it was just another element of your past relationships that although enjoyable had never really filled you with the insatiable need that Van had sparked in you the first night that you'd met. He'd come crashing into your life one evening at a festival that you'd both attended, a whirlwind of chaotic energy and endearing goofiness as you'd both shamelessly fan-girled and fan-boyed over the Arctic Monkeys in their headline slot. With a very newly recorded debut album under his belt, you weren't familiar with Catfish at the time and would never have dreamed for one moment that Van himself was destined to follow in your idols footsteps and burst into the music scene with quite such aplomb. You also never would have dared to dream that the sparkly-eyed, floppy-haired indie boy that caught your attention that fateful night would end up stealing your heart in such a way that he did, but yet here you were, five years on, proving all the nay-sayers wrong, embarking on the next chapter of your life together. You were perfect together in all the ways that mattered... and as for the sex... it was pretty mind-blowing.

You catch Van's eye as your dad twirls you around yet again, the opening bars of another familiar song sparking a memory in you. It's the song that was playing on the radio when Van proposed to you, another Van Morrison tune. He'd been planning an overblown romantic gesture for his proposal featuring heart-shaped balloons and dozens of roses, taking you completely by surprise when you were out at a planned family meal, but he just couldn't wait.

When he'd seen you there in the kitchen that momentous afternoon just over a year ago, kneading cookie dough with a dusting of flour in your hair and a telltale smudge of chocolate on your lips, he'd thought you'd just looked so adorable... so beautiful... so goddamn perfect... that he couldn't wait another second to ask you to be his wife. The sparkling solitaire diamond platinum ring he'd taken to carrying around with him for weeks had been quite literally burning a hole in his pocket, and he'd dropped down on to his knees right there and then on the kitchen floor, much to your shock and delighted surprise, professing his undying love whilst he'd slid the ring on to your finger. It had been a perfect moment, one that you'd treasure forever, slow dancing whilst he'd held you tightly in his arms, and your life had since been made up of many of these perfect moments.

"I hate to steal her away from you, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut in for this song."

Van's voice in your ear and his hand on your dad's shoulder brings you both to a halt, stilling your dance, and your dad lets you go.

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in, close enough that your hips are touching as you begin to sway.

"Got you on your own at last," he looks down on you, dipping his head to plant a small, sweet kiss on your lips. "I can't believe we actually did it babe. Married... the two of us. This is it now... we're gonna spend the rest of our lives together. I hope you're gonna still love me when I'm old and wrinkly."

"Of course I will," you tell him. "I'll always love you... just like I always have. Think I did the first moment I laid eyes on you to be honest."

Van chuckles. "You sure about that? I was a right state at that festival! Remember when you said you wanted to get up on my shoulders and I tripped over and we ended up in a heap on the floor?"

You laugh at the memory. "And you also spilt a whole pint of lager over me if I remember rightly... then instead of apologising you asked if I needed any help getting out of my wet clothes."

Van face palms dramatically, groaning. "God I really was a creep wasn't I? What the hell did you see in me?"

"You made me laugh. You were just so goofy and cute... and adorable... even with the shit chat-up lines."

You drape your hands over his shoulders, looking up at him, your fingers twisting through the hair at the nape of his neck. "And now here we both are..."

"Here we are," he echoes, a faraway look about him like he's caught up in a dream. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. You're the love of my life Y/N."

Again he bows his head to press a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. When you pull apart the grin he's wearing stretches wide on his face as he starts to mouth the words of the song to you.

"And when I'm returning, from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin'

Brightens up my day

And it makes me righteous, and it makes me whole

And it makes me mellow, down into my soul"

You giggle as he takes your hand and twirls you around, happy and carefree. When you fall back into his arms, he pulls you even closer into his body, impossibly tight.

"She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love... She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love..."

He croons the chorus into your ear before pulling back to look deep into your eyes and the rest of the room seems to melt away. You're exactly where you want to be, it feels like the universe is aligned just right in that moment and everything else is just background noise, orbiting distantly around you both.

And in case you were wondering… this tumblr post was the inspiration for this fic! Part 2 to come…

#wedding fic #catb imagines #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic

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archivallyfound09 · 1 year

Text

A Little Bit of Christmas

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin (Top Gun: Maverick) x Reader (F, no Y/N)

Warnings: Angstyyyyyy then some fluff, I don't proofread initially so apologies about spelling!

Requested: YES! The delightful @rosiahills22 posted that she had an idea and was kind enough to share it with me. Here ya go, sunshine- I hope it breaks your heart! <3

"Okay, I know something's up. You're never up before I am," the sleep made Jake's voice even deeper than usual, a loud yawn punctuating his suspicion. You simply smiled, perched on the barstool by the counter, coffee mug firmly in hand. You gave him your sweetest look as you sipped your coffee, a bit of the whipped cream on top sticking to your upper lip.

He chuckled as he made his way to the cabinet to grab a mg and get his own caffeine for the day. The two of you had been together for just over two years, but this would be the first Christmas that he was actually home on base and not deployed on some secret mission thousands of miles away for the holidays. You started humming a christmas carol into your coffee, chancing a glance up at Jake as he poured the hot coffee into his "Navy Aviator" mug. He looked at you quizzically and then saw some of the boxes from storage stacked up behind you.

He let out a tired laugh. "Don't go overboard, okay? Don't want to hurt yourself while I'm not around." He gave you a wink, but the meaning was well intentioned- you had previously had a bit of a spill when decorating for the Fourth of July ( wasn't your fault- the flagpole was ridiculously high and the stepstool wasn't entirely stable). You nodded fervently as he downed his coffee.

"Here's hoping for a good day," he said softly, kissing you and running a hand down your cheek. You smiled as he broke the kiss and headed towards the doors with a "love you" tossed over his shoulder. As the door closed, you practically jumped out of your skin, excited to start decorating.

-------

You knew it had been a while since breakfast, your growling stomach was the only indication that was persistent enough to get you to stop. You walked to the kitchen and started pulling out a variety of items to eat as you admired your handiwork: a full tree, decorated with ornaments, lights garland, and icicles displayed proudly in the living room, lights strung up and down the hallway to the bedroom and bathroom with ornaments hanging from them, wreaths on every door you could find.

You had also swapped out all the blankets in the living room with more holiday-centric pieces, pillows were exchanged, and stuffed animals were added to complete the christmas display that was now your couch. You smiled at the small, stuffed Rudolph and Clarice, enjoying their lovesick look and making you immediately think of how you looked at Jake.

You had made a list of a few items you were missing- a new wreath hanger for the front door, some replacement bulbs for the top of the tree and a few new ornaments to commemorate your first, actual Christmas spent together. You hadn't mentioned to Jake how much you enjoyed decorating, especially now that you finally had someone to share it with.

-----

Before you realized, your stomach was growling again. The blue lights on the microwave read 9:02 and you were immediately confused why Jake wasn't home yet. Normally, he'd arrive back to you between 5-6, 6:30 at the absolute latest. Or he'd call if he was going out (honestly, he normally just told you to meet him when he went out with the gang from work). You checked your phone and saw no calls or messages, so you continued a scavenge for food, throwing together some pasta dish in case Jake hadn't eaten when he arrived.

No sooner were you pulling the past off the stove and grating some cheese into it did the front door open. Heavy boots hit the floor as the door slammed loudly shut. Jake's bag hit the wall before it hit the floor. You jumped a bit, not sure what had happened, but one look told you everything.

It had been an absolute hell of a day.

Jake walked past you towards the fridge, grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat next to it on the counter. He grabbed a glass and, with a long pout, downed the amber liquid in seconds. You gently sat down his plate of food and Jake followed, now with a beer in hand.

Dinner was silent. You didn't want to pry or bother him when he got like this. It wasn't often he shut down, but you knew better than to try and play therapist and fix him in a state like this. You quickly finished your food and stood, taking both your empty plates to the sink. As you rinsed them off, you smiled at all your decorating and how it shone against the darkness outside. You looked at Jake, but he was still slumped over, sipping his beer.

"Hey, I know it's been a rough day but-"

"But what?" You took a shaky breath as his question came out as more of a bark than anything. When you didn't say anything, he looked at you annoyed. You unenthusiastically gestured to the living room and the kitchen, where glimmering Christmas lights shone proudly and small bits of holly garland now adored the tops of your cabinetry.

Jake groaned. "Okay, great. More stuff," he half mumbled into the beer bottle. You bit your lip frustrated almost to tears, but not willing to shed them.

"I know it's been a rough day," you repeated calmly, "but I wanted to do something special since it's our first real Christmas together."

You weren't sure what it was, but that seemed to snap something in Jake. He stood up, beer bottle clanging to the bottom of the trash bin in front of him. You took in a deep breath, unsure of exactly what was bout to happen.

"Great. Just fucking great, babe. You cover the house with all this shit," the word came out like poison, "and why? You want a pat on the back? Want to feel like what you did was special? Wow. Awesome." He rolled his eyes as the sarcasm and his volume started to grow.

"I'm sorry that I'm not in the mood to deal with any of this christmas bullshit and I wish you would just stop wasting my money on all of it so everything can look even more cramped than it already is!" he shook the stuffed Rudolph in his fist and let it fly off into the tree as he stormed out of the room and towards the bedroom. The door slammed and suddenly the only sound in the room was the tinkling of ornaments on the still shaking tree.

You took in a shaky breath, tears silently streaming down your cheeks. You had thought this would be a surprise that Jake would like. He told you on his last deployment how much he had loved seeing you decorate the place and how you had "really made it your own." You slowly stepped towards the tree, grabbing a few branches to settle it back down. You picked up the thrown reindeer and then you saw it: the "Our First Christmas" ornament that some of Jake's work friends had given to you before the deployment laid shattered on the floor.

You cradled the pieces in your hand and then walked them over to the trash, the ceramic clattering quietly with the now forgotten beer bottle at the bottom. You looked around and let out a heavy sigh, tears still falling as you wiped your nose on your sleeve. You began unplugging lights, removing the remaining ornaments and boxing them back up and putting them in the storage closet.

You were surprised at how quickly you were able to put everything away. You hadn't been interrupted, so you assumed that Jake had fallen asleep. You sat quietly on the couch, the room seeming especially bare. You sighed and pulled up a blanket, exhaustion overtaking you into sleep.

------

The next morning you woke early, the bareness in the room another reminder of what had occurred last night. You took in a shaky breath and quickly walked to the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth and splash some water on your face. You were grateful to past you for leaving some clean clothes on the hamper in the bathroom. You changed and decided to head out for some coffee from the local shop just off base.

When you returned, coffee and pastries in hand for you and Jake, you found him sitting on the floor, facing the corner of your living room. You looked at him quizzically and, as you crossed the room to put the coffee and food down on the kitchen table. With the new vantage point, you saw him holding a ceramic piece of the ornament that had broken last night.

"I'm a fucking asshole," you heard him mutter quietly. You stood still, eyebrow raised, waiting for him to continue. He stood slowly, the ornament still in hand, as he made his way over to you at the kitchen table.

"I'm so sorry, baby, so, so, incredibly sorry," he looked down at his shoes, afraid of what you'd say if he looked into your eyes. He took in a shaky breath.

"Christmas was always hard at home. It seemed like every year it was the perfect time for a full blown fight between my parents and someone would always break someone else's toys and it was always stressful and chaotic and..." you could see a tiny glimmer of wetness on his cheeks.

"...and it's no excuse. I shouldn't have done any of that. I was so glad to have you here and have you to celebrate with. And I know I ruined it and I don't know if I can fix it, but...I'm so sorry. Something snapped and I lost it. And now I'm terrified I'm going to lose you." He looked back down at the ornament shard in his hand.

"I need you to know how much this means to me to celebrate," you started, voice shaky, hands held stiffly by your sides. "I didn't have anyone or anything to celebrate Christmas growing up. Dad was always gone, mom didn't have any money and anything they did have, they gave to my younger brother. Now they're all gone. Last year was my first chance to celebrate and decorate. I was so proud to show this all off to you and this year, my only dream was to get to spend it with you. To get to have a real family Christmas celebration."

Your words hung thick in the air. Before you realized it, Jake had you wrapped up tightly in his arms. Apologies were mumbled into your hair as he clutched you tightly to his chest. You felt hot tears on your cheeks and on your neck and shoulders as your arms automatically wrapped around Jake's muscular frame.

"Okay, I am not going to be able to make this up to you," he pulled away slowly and looked down at the ornament in his hand, "but, goddammit, I'm going to try," you gave him a tentative smile as he continued. "Go out and buy whatever else you want for Christmas, New Year, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, whatever holidays you want to celebrate okay?" You let out a laugh as you wiped the snot from your nose in a very unladylike fashion.

Jake laughed and hugged you again, placing a kiss on your lips, both cheeks, forehead, and the top of your head. You laughed again and then started towards the door, car keys, coffee, and purse in hand.

--------

You returned back with a small bag of decorations a few hours later. You knew Jake was trying to patch things up, but you still felt guilty about all the items you had already spent money on. And, quite honestly, there wasn't much more that you needed around the house.

You heard the music inside before you opened the door. Christmas music blared from the house and only got louder as you walked in. You were not anticipating seeing almost everyone from the recently Top Gun mission in your house, all in a variety of stages of decoration. You immediately spotted Phoenix and Bob at the Christmas tree, while Halo was clearly hanging lights in the hallway (and the bathroom?).

"Hey Hangman! Mrs. Claus is home!" You turned at saw Rooster on a ladder with Coyote and Payback trying to steady him as he hung something from your ceiling. You laughed a bit and put down your purse, handing the bag of decorations to Halo as you continued into the house.

Jake stepped out of the bedroom, a red flannel and jeans now adorning his body and a santa hat perched on his head. You laughed (unsure of where he got a flannel for the hot San Diego temps) and stepped into a hug with him.

"Thank you," you whispered and he pulled back, putting the santa hat on you and dipping you into a long, obnoxious kiss. It earned a lot of whoops and hollers and a few gags (Rooster) as you ended the kiss.

"I know it's not the same, but I hope it's a little bit of Christmas for you," he whispered and wrapped his arms around you again.

------

A/N: Did I say "I want to hurt my own feelings?" Yes. Yes I did. Thanks again to @rosiahills22 for the idea!!! <3

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #Hangman #hangman fic #jake hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman #top gun maverick #top gun 2 #christmas fic #request #angsty #angst with a happy ending #top gun 2 angst

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