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itslifetreesworld · 1 day ago

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My favorite Benthan looks in M: I (5/8): Rouge Nation!

M:I 1-3 are here

Ghost Protocol

Did I say I would pick one set of looks from each of the films? I lied. /unapologetic

Again, the following would be the costume analysis and my ramblings and some excuses for breaking my rules, and because I REALLY LIKE Rogue Nation this is going to be a long one...so if you are ready let's dive straight in:

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation

Ok so first of all,

I love you. Thank you so much for literally everything I'm crying

Secondly, this time, there's no thinking process at all. The car chase looks were actually what made me want to do this challenge in the first place, and then I quickly realized that there's no way I can let the Ethan certified Nice Tux™ go away.

But before we go straight to the two I picked, we can first have a look at the other costumes that pique my interest:

The record shop Ethan

This one is quite interesting for me because it's uncommonly casual. It's not the usual utilitarian bomber jacket and sweater combo that Ethan usually goes for, but a pretty casual olive green jacket that's slightly crumpled. Considering the context, I would even say this might be Ethan's personal clothing when he's not on a mission, as this was supposed to be a simple information pick-up.

2. The CIA Benji

So in the CIA, Benji was wearing a light grey jacket (hanging on his chair) and a slightly blue shirt with a striped tie. I am just putting this here to complain that both the CIA and the IMF have the most boring dress code of all times.

But in this scene, it was the first time Benji's wearing less than every other person in the room. My explanation is that he and Ethan probably did a lot more missions together before the demolition of the IMF, so he is in better physical condition, which also explains how relaxed he is in Vienna compared to Ghost Protocol. Speaking of Vienna...

I just want to point out what a shape he is. Just look at that.

Another detail is that his shirt is not even a simple white shirt; it's a slightly pleated(?) one that looks more expensive than my kidneys or something. I guess at least the CIA is paying him well

While Ethan looks like he's going to a funeral (which is not entirely wrong...you know)

He removed the tie shortly after going backstage but I kept the tie on, because it's also rarely he keeps the thing on at all so why not?

Btw I realized only as I'm writing this analysis that the lapel of Ethan's suit is actually peaked plus it's silk. That's why you should always do the research before instead of after everything. (I KNEW he's too dramatic to go to an opera with basic black suits goddamnit)

Another thing I quite like is Ethan's hair length in RN; it was something shorter than mi2 and GP but definitely longer than most others, which gives this lovely fringe and a slightly puffed feeling, which is really cute.

And before I started with the second outfit that I chose, let's have a look at these:

At first look I thought Benji's suit was the same as the CIA one, but then on a closer shot I realized that this one is striped and more of a tan color while the CIA one is simply grey. And I have no idea why Ethan decided to wear all dark colors under the burning sun of Casablanca, this guy is insane

Also I don't know if you noticed before because I haven't, but Benji was wearing these blue sneakers

I kept thinking about the costumes in Casablanca because I think in terms of plot, these are supposed to be Benji's personal clothes when he came to Vienna, so these are the clothes he wears when he travels! I will go into details about this when we talk about the car chase look very soon, but before that I had to put Ethan with this purple silk shirt here.

I don't think Ethan cared much about his outfits during the six months' run from the CIA, and judging from his line in Vienna that he prepared Benji's change of clothes, I'd say he got all of these ready before the opera. (I don't know mate but for six months he's been very unkept but the moment he knew he was going on a mission with Benji he got these fancy suits and purple silk shirts I mean there's got to be a reason for that. Plus in this shot he literally walked away from Ilsa to stand next to Benji. You can draw your own conclusions.)

FINALLY it's the lost tourists' look! I love these so much that I literally started this entire challenge for them:

I'm convinced that Benji prepared the clothes for both of them (I'm biased but yeah). I'm about 99.99% sure that Benji's wearing his own clothes, I've also considered if Ethan was wearing Benji's travelling shirts but this one could or could not be Benji's style, not super sure. Anyway if this one is from Ethan's then he picked something to match with Benji's.

Edited: I forgot to mention this but the dark patterns on Benji's shirt are also a matching shade of Ethan's burgundy shirt

Benji was wearing a different sneakers, an orange one to go with his T-shirt.

From here we know that Ethan is not totally mad, the inner layer is still a T-shirt, and from another shot we can see it's with prints, which is not common for him.

Edited: The amazing @waywardmillennial sent me this pic which shows the print on Ethan's shirt:

There are more details mentioned in here plus in the comment section about the shirt!

(Btw just slightly off track again. When Ethan literally just woke up from death his hands were on Benji's chest for quite a while, and Benji was definitely noticing)

We talked about Ethan's hair before now let's talk about Benji's. THIS is my absolute favorite part of Benji's look in RN. *chef's kisses*

...and I've definitely written too much this time. To wrap this one up I am nominating one last candidate:

I just love the color and the vibrancy of this red jacket and the cute shirt, alas the competition was simply too great this time

And that's all for Rouge Nation! Phew it was taking me much longer than I thought to get this out, but I am having so much fun. I hope you enjoyed it too!

I'm also putting the link to the analysis of MI1-3 and Ghost Protocol here for a quick refresh if you are interested.

Again thanks for reading this much and see you next time! :D

#mission impossible #mission impossible: rogue nation #ethan hunt #benji dunn #benthan #ethan hunt x benji dunn #character study #costume analysis #lifetreesworld #the hardest part for me is to actually stop watching RN

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 1 day ago

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Stan gets cursed into an anthropomorphic bird and can't speak English

How big is this bird? The size is critical for manhandling reasons.

Lol, i kid. I will write both situations. I'm thinking he's not any obvious bird species, just brown feathers and looks like he has a mullet.

Tiny birdman Stan's gotta learn how to fly fast. He's a funky shaped bird, legs too long and wings weird? He can pick things up because he's still got clawed hands but he is. so small. Scrambles to learn how to survive, loses his car, flaps his way to gravity falls.

Gets caught in a net and shoved in a cage by Gravity Falls resident scientists, interested in the woods newest anomaly. Stan would love this opportunity to ask for help, if he wasn't stuck speaking some nonsense gibberish language and rattling the cage bars while Ford drones on and on around him. I'm imagining like, animal crossing sounds coming from this birdman.

Stan suffers being Fords specimen of the week, getting poked at and prodded, all the while hissing threats at him and telling him he's gonna remember this later. Ford gets his notes done, goes back to release Stan, then stares as Stan flaps up to land on Fords shoulder, yelling at him in his nonsense language and waving his little hand claw wings around.

Well, clearly this little bird guy is a person of some kind, not a pet, and its probably annoyed at Ford for sticking him in a cage all week (he is, but also trying to communicate here). Just gonna pick it up, set it on a branch and!

It followed him home. Ok.

Cue a few weeks of Stan trying to get a message to Ford and Ford treating him like a new variant of gnome, aka annoying pest creature. When Stan eventually conveys he's a person under a curse, and then revealed to be Stan, he's got weeks of blackmail to use against his bro. A full week in a cage, constantly being grabbed, thrown out windows, etc. Ford is living in his embarrassment nexus, cannot ever live down throwing Stan out windows while he was a tiny bird person because Ford thought his little beeping voice was annoying.

Onto Big Bird Stan.

Big bird Stan can drive! Its not any kind of comfortable but he's not about to fly around at his size, he'd get shot! Time for cross country trip while scourging in the trash and shrieking at people.

As always, somehow ends up in gravity falls. I think it'd be funny if he also gets netted by Ford, but he's also the exact same size, so he just gets out of the net and now Ford has a whole new problem in 'bird man who won't leave him alone and also doesn't speak English.' Stan is breaking into Fords house, riffling through his fridge, them crouching over Ford's head until he wakes up to squawk in his face. His weird wing hands can't grip pens and it wouldn't matter if they could beacause Ford is snatching all his paper our of Stan's hands and trying to wrestle him out of the house.

This bird man is Fords #1 enemy for weeks until he finally snaps and throws his hands in the air, demanding to know what this ting wants!

Only for Stan to drag him to his car that he parked in the woods, gestures to it, gestures to himself, does a few back and forths, and Ford jumps to the conclusion that Stan is dead and this is a mystic messanger of some kind.

That theory lasts as long as it takes Stan to groan over it, then shake his shoulders and sqwak angrily in his face.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #ford pines #stan the curse man #don't have much other than that on this

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celestialgallaghers · 2 days ago

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Cherub [18+]

Noel's been looking EXTRA FINE with these shows and someone made this lovely request so i had to write ab it of course. Someone also requested noel beard smut a while ago and i never wrote about it soooooooo here it is. I NEED THIS OLD MAN SO BAD !!!!!

Summary: As Noel begins to doubt the way age has changed him, you show him there's nothing sexier than the man he is now.

Word count: 4.4k

You loved Noel. Were obsessed with him actually. Even after all the years together, you were still discovering new things to adore. But lately, one detail in particular had completely taken over your attention. You’d started noticing it a few years ago, subtly at first, but now you were fully aware. Consumed, even.

When he turned fifty, he’d been in the best shape of his life. Lean, sharp, stupidly sexy. His hair had gone perfectly salt and pepper, his jaw still strong, his frame wiry and angular. For a while, he’d been religious about staying fit—morning workouts, careful meals, clothes that showed it off. And then, slowly, he let it go.

You didn’t blame him. And you certainly didn’t mind.

Noel had always been on the smaller side. You were nearly the same height and sometimes you swore his jeans were smaller than yours. He just had that narrow build. Slender hips that didn’t quite make anatomical sense but somehow suited him perfectly. It wasn’t like you ever felt you had to compete with him physically, far from it. You adored that little waist. Loved how easily your arms could wrap around him, how your chin fit over his shoulder, your head tucked into the warm crook of his neck.

But in recent years, like any man his age, he’d started to develop a bit of a belly. It changed the way he dressed. He’d swapped his extra small jumpers for looser button ups that strained just a bit in the middle. And sometimes the buttons would pop open. Or he’d stretch his arms above his head, and the hem would ride up, revealing a sliver of bare skin at his side.

At first you thought it was endearing. You’d tease him with little pinches as you passed by and he’d laugh, eyes crinkling in that way you loved.

But recently it had shifted. What had once been adorable had become provocative. Your fingers would find their way beneath his shirt when you curled up in bed or watched telly together, your hand absently stroking the skin.

There was suddenly more of him. More to see. More to touch. More that pulled your gaze every time it peeked out from under his clothes. You stopped giving him teasing pinches and would now just watch, silently entranced until the skin disappeared under the fabric again. It wasn’t overtly sexual, no more than a hint of cleavage was, but once your eyes landed there you couldn’t look away.

You’d especially noticed it during last year’s tour. There’d been an influx of button downs. And even more unbuttoned ones. Whether he didn’t realize how far down they got undone or just didn’t care, you weren’t sure. Maybe he liked it. You certainly did.

You’d hover side stage with bated breath, watching a shirt edge looser and looser with each song, hoping for it to fall open just a little more. Every flash of chest made you ache.

His hair had gone more grey lately, too. A bit longer. A little unkempt. More rugged. It only added to the appeal. And then jesus christ he’d started growing a beard.

Noel had always been so clean shaven. Occasionally a bit of stubble, but never anything intentional. Never like this.

It had thrown you at first. You’d lean in for a quick peck, expecting the familiar softness of his cheek, only to be met with something rough and bristled. It would startle you momentarily but you’d grown used to it. Found it oddly comforting at times.

The skin on your face, however, had been less quick to adapt. It wasn’t long before you found yourself nursing the occasional beard burn. He was apologetic about it, always offering to shave, but you never held him to it. Sometimes he followed through. Most times he didn’t.

You wondered if he noticed how much more your hands wandered when he let it grow. How much tighter your legs would squeeze around his head when he’d go down on you, feeling that scrape between your thighs for days.

Now, with the beard longer than ever, flecked in white and grey, with his hair a little wild and his body a little softer, you found yourself restless. Constantly eyeing him. Wanting.

He’d been busy lately. Distracted, but never distant. Most nights he’d end up fast asleep on your chest, your fingers absently petting his hair. He carried so much. Worrying about the music, about how things were with Liam, about how everything sounded. You understood. And you never faulted him for it.

But it meant the grooming had fallen off. The beard had grown thicker, rougher, the lines of it darker, more defined. And you’d been truly, desperately horny for weeks now.

You were lying in bed one morning still half-asleep when you shifted down and rested your head on his stomach. The skin there was soft and warm from sleep, rising and falling gently beneath your cheek. Your fingers moved slowly, tracing absentminded patterns over the gentle curve of his belly, the fine hair tickling your face as you nuzzled in closer. Your nose brushed along the line of his hip and you let yourself sink into the scent of his skin, the faint thud of his heartbeat echoing through his body.

After a while, you began pressing warm kisses to the exposed skin. Your lips wandered across the soft expanse just above his waistband, dotting affection along the space. You didn’t realize how carried away you were getting until he made a low noise above you—a sleepy, half-laughing groan.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, voice thick from sleep. “You’re treatin’ me like I’m pregnant. Am I really that fat?”

You laughed gently against his stomach and kissed him once more beneath his navel before lifting your head, resting your chin on him. Looking up through the curtain of your hair you caught the way his brow furrowed slightly, the faint crease between his eyes as he squinted down at you.

“Course not,” you said with an affectionate smile. “Not like it’d matter anyways.”

He shifted slightly, almost like he was uncomfortable. You watched him carefully. He’d never been self conscious about his weight, not that he’d let on. So you weren’t sure if he was joking or if something in him had really stirred at your touch.

“What?” you prodded gently, still cradling his waist. “You can worship my body but I can’t do the same to yours?”

His gaze dropped to meet yours then, a flicker of something uncertain behind the fondness in his expression. “It’s not the same.”

You cocked your head. “Why not?”

He exhaled, like it pained him to say it out loud. “Because you’re…you,” he said finally. “You’re soft in all the right places. I’m just getting soft.”

You dragged your hand slowly across the plane of his stomach, letting your palm press meaningfully into the spot he seemed so unsure about. “You don’t think I like this?” you asked, voice lower. “This exact part of you?”

You punctuated the question with a playful little bite to the skin. A surprised laugh bubbled out of him and your lips lingered where you’d bitten, soothing the spot with a kiss.

Your gaze drifted back up to his face, more serious this time. “Noel, I adore you. All of you. I don’t think you’ve ever been sexier in your life.”

He scoffed lightly, embarrassed. “Come off it—”

But you cut him off, rising up just slightly so your face hovered above his chest, one hand still resting warmly at his waist.

“No, I’m dead serious,” you said, holding his gaze. “You’ve got no idea how mad I am for you lately.”

You let your eyes wander slowly over the exposed lines of his chest. The smattering of gray in the hair dusting his torso.

“It’s unbearable,” you whispered, words heavy with intent.

There was a pause. Then something shifted in his expression.

“This turns you on then?” he asked, voice low as if he was testing the waters.

A wicked grin pulled at your mouth. “You have no idea.”

He barely had time to respond before you were moving again, climbing up his body, kissing your way over his sternum. Then the slope of his shoulder. The curve of his throat. By the time you were face to face, you were half-draped across him, your hand sliding up to cradle his jaw.

Your thumb brushed gently through the scruff of his beard.

“And by the way,” you whispered, “the beard? Same effect.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. Something about the way he was looking at you, open and a little unsure, made your chest ache. He wasn’t the type to ask for reassurance, not directly, but it was written all over him now. And you wanted to give everything. Every piece of yourself that might remind him just how wanted he was.

You leaned in and kissed him slow and deep, trying to convey how much you wanted him just the way he was. He kissed back like he understood. Like he needed to believe it.

His hand slid up the length of your spine, pulling you closer until your chest was flush against his. You could feel the shift then, the surrender in his body. His mouth grew hungrier against yours, the scrape of his beard dragging across your cheek, your jaw, and it made you smile against his lips.

“You don’t know what all this does to me,” you murmured, fingers trailing down his chest, slower now, dragging your nails lightly over the soft swell of his stomach.

A shaky breath escaped him. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you whispered against his lips. “You get better with age and I’m just…fucking obsessed with you.”

Your hips shifted slightly against his and you felt him twitch beneath you. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, a quiet curse slipping past his lips.

Your mouth trailed along his jaw, down the edge of his beard, settling just beneath his ear. “You think this is happening because I pity you?”

He groaned softly, hands gripping your waist.

“I love all of you,” you continued. “Even the parts you might not.”

He didn’t say anything. Just reached up and cupped the back of your neck, pulling you into another kiss. His other hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, palm hot against your back.

You shifted against him, pressing a thigh between his legs and feeling the unmistakable heat there. A shiver ran through you, the rush to your head immediate, overwhelmed by the surge of love flooding your chest. It killed you that he felt this way. You needed to change his mind. Needed him to never feel insecure again.

You let the kiss stretch out a while longer before slowly pulling away. Your mouth moved with purpose now, trailing down his chest in slow, worshipful descent. You paused to flick your tongue over one of his nipples, smiling at the sharp intake of breath he gave you. Then you kissed it softly, letting your lips linger.

When you reached the trail of hair leading into his boxers, you brushed your lips along the line, nudging the fabric lower with your mouth as you went. By the time your face was buried in the tangle of hair at the base of his cock, you felt him twitch beneath your lips, already beginning to harden. Even that hair had started to go gray now. You smiled softly against it and looked up at him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” you whispered. “I hope you know that.”

He didn’t speak. Just breathed through his nose, a little uneven, and the hand resting in your hair gave a gentle tug.

You held his gaze for a beat longer then slowly pulled his boxers down and off, revealing all of him.

Your fingers wrapped gently around his right knee, guiding his leg up until his foot settled flat on the mattress. You moved slowly, giving him time to adjust, to settle into the moment. He tensed slightly, just for a second, but you kissed into the inside of his knee softly and felt him begin to relax again.

You trailed reverent kisses up the inside of his thigh, reveling in the way the skin jumped with each touch. The way his breath hitched, the way his fingers flexed in your hair—it made your stomach tighten.

By the time you reached the sensitive skin behind his balls, he was breathing hard. You nosed at them gently, letting out a soft laugh when you heard the low, helpless curse fall from his mouth.

Your tongue flicked out, slow and teasing, before you dragged it upward over the softness and closed your mouth around one of his balls. You sucked gently, letting your tongue cradle and warm him. Then you gave the same attention to the other, savoring the way his hips twitched and his grip in your hair tightened.

Then you let your tongue glide up from the base of his cock, tracing the sensitive underside, following the vein all the way to the flushed tip. He was fully hard now, thick and heavy and hot against your mouth.

You hovered there for a moment, your breath warm against the head of his cock. Then, without breaking eye contact, you leaned forward and let your lips part around the tip.

He hissed through his teeth, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping back to yours. You watched him watch you. He was completely still save for the clench of his jaw.

You started slow, taking him inch by inch, your lips wet and open around him. One hand stayed wrapped gently around the base, your thumb stroking lazy, affectionate circles into the underside. The other slid up to cradle the thigh you’d drawn up, fingers splayed just beneath the curve.

Every twitch of his cock against your tongue, every low sound that slipped from his mouth, only made you more devoted to the act. You weren't doing this to tease him. You weren’t trying to rush him over the edge either. You just wanted to show him your desire. How deeply you wanted him.

You drew back slowly then sank down again, your mouth stretching wider as you took more of him in. The weight of him pressed against your tongue and you moaned softly around him, loving the way he jolted in response. The way his hand tangled more tightly in your hair.

“Christ,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked.

You hummed around him again and the choked sound he gave in return made something flutter low in your stomach. Your hand shifted on his hip, guiding him gently, encouraging him to stay open for you. You couldn’t get enough of the sounds he made. The way he unraveled from your touch.

When you pulled off for a moment, your lips were swollen and wet. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of his shaft, then to his hipbone, then to the hollow just above where the hair began again. Your mouth lingered there, warm and soft, as your hand continued its steady rhythm around him.

You looked up at him, your voice low and sincere.

“Noel,” you murmured. “I want to hear you say it.”

He blinked down at you, dazed. “Say what?”

“That you're beautiful.”

The words were spoken directly into his skin, your lips brushing against the soft slope of his stomach as you nuzzled into it. You needed him to claim it. Not just accept it, but believe it.

He scoffed and looked away. Like it embarrassed him just to consider.

But you didn’t let up.

“I mean it,” you said, your hand tightening ever so slightly around him.

He gasped, sharp and involuntary, his head tipping back against the pillow. But when he looked down at you again, he didn’t look away. You held his gaze, patient and steady.

Still, he didn’t speak. So you coaxed it out of him the only way you knew how.

You lowered yourself again, lips parting as you took him back into your mouth, deeper this time. You relaxed your jaw, letting him slide further until your nose pressed to the soft skin above the base, your throat swallowing around him as his entire body tensed beneath you.

The moan that spilled from him was low, torn from deep in his chest. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other reached for your shoulder, gripping it with trembling fingers.

You moved in a steady rhythm, mouth worshipping every inch of him. Your tongue dragged slowly along the underside of his cock with every pull, savoring the weight and heat of him. You let yourself sink into it too. Into the smell of him, the occasional catch in his breath when your lips pressed down deep, the breathy sounds falling from his mouth.

You pulled off with a quiet pop only when you sensed he was getting close. You kissed your way back down to the base again, nuzzling, breathing heavily against him. You let your cheek rest there for a moment, then whispered again, more gently this time.

“Noel.”

He exhaled shakily, already understanding. You weren’t going to let him run from it. You’d bring him to the edge over and over again if that’s what it took, but he wouldn’t get to come without those words.

You looked up at him, eyes soft, lips still parted against his skin.

He swallowed hard. And when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse and uncertain. “I’m…”

You smiled encouragingly and kissed his hip again. “Go on.”

Then you took him fully back into your mouth, easing him in deep as your hand resumed its pace at the base, your cheeks hollowing, your tongue pressing just right.

“Fuck—” he gasped, already on the brink. “I’m beautiful. I’m beautiful, I’m—”

The words dissolved into a moan as his body gave out. His hips jerked up instinctively, chasing the heat of your mouth. He came with a low, broken sound, and you held him through every wave of it. Swallowed everything he gave you, your hand stroking gently at the base, coaxing every last drop from him.

His body went limp beneath you, hand slipping from your hair, his breath coming in soft, unsteady exhales.

You pulled back slowly and kissed his stomach again. You rested your cheek right where you’d started against his stomach, your fingers stroking aimlessly over his thigh.

“You are beautiful,” you murmured into the skin. “I don’t want you to forget that. Ever.”

There was a long pause. Then his hand found your shoulder again and squeezed, firm but grateful.

You looked up at him. His eyes were wide and soft, full of something that looked a lot like awe. And love. So much love it made your chest ache.

“Come here,” he said, voice ragged.

You climbed back up his body and settled into his arms, your head on his chest, your leg thrown over his hip. A kiss was pressed to the crown of your head, and he let it linger.

“You’re beautiful too,” he whispered, his voice thick.

And you held him tighter.

After that, he started wearing tighter shirts.

Not by accident. On purpose.

They were the kind that clung just enough to his stomach, the fabric stretching ever so slightly across his middle. Buttons left undone a little too far down. He’d stretch in front of you in the kitchen knowing full well the hem would ride up and every time it did he’d glance over with that wicked little grin, mischievous and unmistakably aware of what he was doing.

He'd caught on. And there was no denying now that he believed you loved it because he could see it. The way your breath would hitch, how your gaze would track the sliver of skin at his waist, the subtle curve of his belly, the soft trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. The way lust would take over your entire expression before you could even try to hide it.

It drove you mad. And he knew it.

And the beard, god, he’d kept the beard. Not just kept it, but started maintaining it. Trimmed it just right. Full and coarse in all the ways that made you dizzy. He never mentioned the way your hands wandered more now. How often they cupped his jaw. How your fingers drifted through the scruff whenever he was close. But he noticed. You knew he did.

Because now he wore it all with something like pride. Like he’d finally realized that none of it diminished him. That he could be older and still make you wild. That you could love him even more now, with the gray in his beard and the softening of his waist, than you ever had before.

And fuck, nothing turned you on more than watching him start to believe it.

Rehearsals had started and he’d been in a good mood. And he looked better than ever. Maybe he even seemed a bit more confident. Your sex life had been crazy good lately. Not that it wasn’t before, but it had become more frequent. Like both of you were insatiable.

Tonight wasn’t any different.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed in just your underwear rubbing lotion into your legs, distracted by the memory of watching him earlier that day. Every time he passed off a guitar, his shirt would slide up and you’d catch glimpses of that bare skin. That little curve above his waistband. You’d had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from staring so openly.

Across the room, Noel peeled off his shirt. When he turned back toward you, his eyes locked onto yours, amusement tugging at his mouth.

“Felt you starin’ all through practice,” he said, voice low and smug.

You didn’t even try to deny it. “You were showing off.”

He smirked and stepped between your knees. “Can you blame me?” he murmured, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “You’re always lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, feigning innocence as your hands slid up his sides, fingers trailing over the warmth of his bare skin.

“Like you’re gonna eat me alive.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss along the line of his stomach, slow and reverent. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Before you could say another word, he pushed you gently backward until you were lying flat on the mattress. You let out a small laugh, surprised, breath catching as his hands skimmed down your sides and hooked into the waistband of your underwear.

“Noel—”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he muttered, dragging the fabric down slowly. “The way you look at me lately…you don’t know what it does to me.”

Your pulse stuttered as he knelt between your legs, spreading you open with steady hands. He kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and sure, like he was claiming you. Another kiss, higher. Then another. The rough scrape of his beard made you twitch.

Your breath hitched. “God, that…”

He glanced up, eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth quirking. “That what?”

“That—your beard,” you breathed.

He smirked, wicked and knowing, then ducked his head again. When he finally pressed his mouth to you, it was like your whole body caught fire. The contrast of his warm tongue against the roughness of his beard made you moan helplessly, head falling back into the pillows.

He groaned against you, clearly enjoying your reaction. His tongue moved slowly, parting you with ease, his mouth soft and open and consuming. He licked you with full strokes, messy and thorough, until your hips were lifting off the bed and your thighs were threatening to close around his head.

But his hands held you open, steady and unyielding, thumbs digging into the creases of your thighs just enough to keep you where he wanted you.

“Fuck, Noel—” You whimpered as the bristle of his beard dragged across your inner thighs, every nerve lighting up beneath the friction.

He pulled back slightly, eyes dark, lips glistening. “Too much?”

You shook your head, breath caught in your chest. “No. No, it’s perfect.”

His grin was devilish before he dove back in.

This time he focused on your clit, tongue circling slowly, lips sealing around it in a rhythm that made your vision blur. And that beard, god that beard, brushed against the most sensitive skin like he’d grown it just for this.

You could already feel the burn setting in. The kind you’d carry with you tomorrow and think about every time your thighs brushed together.

Your legs began to tremble. Your hands fisted in the sheets then slid up into his hair, gripping him like you needed something to steady you.

He moaned again when your thighs squeezed tighter around his head and you felt the sound echo into your core, vibrating through every inch of you.

It didn’t take long after that.

Your orgasm crept up fast and brutal. When it hit, you cried out, hips jerking against his mouth, body pulsing beneath his grip. He didn’t stop. Not for a second. Kept licking you through it, working you down from the edge, mouth wet and patient, the coarse scrape of his beard dragging you back into your body even as you threatened to float away.

When you finally collapsed against the mattress, completely spent, he kissed the inside of your thigh again, gentler now, then nuzzled into the space just beside your hip, catching his breath.

You blinked up at the ceiling, chest heaving, heart still thudding in your ears.

After a long pause, you felt him shift, dragging his body up over yours until he was hovering above you, one arm braced by your head, the other trailing lazy fingers along your ribs.

You reached up and stroked your thumb along his jaw, smiling at the slight glisten still on his mouth.

“That was filthy,” you whispered.

He kissed you slow and deep and tasting like everything you’d just given him.

“Good,” he said against your lips. “Maybe now you’ll stop starin’ at me like that.”

You laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Well,” he said with a grin, “this should be an interesting few weeks then.”

You laughed again, full and helpless, and pulled him close, heart aching with love.

#noel gallagher #noel gallagher x reader #noel gallagher x you #noel gallagher fic #request #noel gallagher smut

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masked-daydream · 3 days ago

Text

DATE EVERYTHING! SELF-AWARE AU

Another version of the Self-Aware Au by writing-munchies but the Player is like @kingtism1 aka Antonio from TikTok who says the most unholy stuff to every dateable.

In this AU they can hear the Players comments to each and every one of them as they try their hardest to control themselves.

I will probably quote some of the unhinged stuff that the guy says and also add some of my own. I really recommend you guys watching his interactions but only if you are 🔞 like this fic.

Unhinged! Player x Self-Aware! Dateables

⚠️ 🔞 Content Incoming, No Sex but it is very much Implied ⚠️

"I respect your decision, but someday I wanna let you devour my ass like how a British man first tastes of Soul Food, eating it till there's nothing but slobber left on the plate."

Dorian freezes as he hears the Players first words to him as he tries to control the growing blush on his face as to let his his character sprite change because of the comment.

As the player leaves he finally let's out a breath of relief as he covers his face as he let's the growing blush appear on his face.

'What the bloody hell was that?'

Dorian thought to himself, as he steadies himself continuing his duty. He hopes that this will be last time he hears some unholy words from the player. Not knowing that this is only the beginning...

😏

"You think if I nutted, on him the fire would go out and he just dies?" The player wondered as they got introduced to Dante. "Hmm...I guess not." You smirked, "So Dante drop them drawers and we're gonna start frothing right now-

Dante felt as he's gonna lose himself as he hears the players comments to him. He knows he's hot, but he didn't know what to do with someone so direct, as hears the player continues their dirty rant to him-

"You might burn my dick off but it will be so worth it fucking the fireplace..." The player says no shame or regret coating their voice.

Dante feels the embers burn in his body burn hotter. Wishing that the player would never notice his face and his cock twitch. He never considered being dominated but he might make an exception for the bold player.

"It gets me so. Damn. Riled Up!" Reggie nearly screams in frustration. As he was about to scream at the player more, he hears them-

"Oh~ Reggie I want you to hatefuck me soo bad! I want you to bend me over and break me-"

Reggie pauses his rant.

"RIGHT NOW!" The player nearly screams in desperation.

His face turns into absolute shock. Then immediately turns into lust as his eyes darken. As he let's his character sprite continue the next dialogue.

He knew that this player was a bit wild hearing how they made the other objects and concepts get flustered. But he didn't know they were desperate. And he loves~ desperation.

As he finally settles taking back control to his character. He could feel himself wanting more of the players desperation....

The wildness and horniness of the players words flow through every dateables. Each words getting more freakier than the next as everyone in the game tries their hardest to control their character sprites as to not let the player know about how they're comments affect them.

And these comments are not limited to the conventionally attractive dateables. Oh no... the comments reached EVERY. ONE.

Like Sassy Chap who never expected to be one of the brunt of the players comments. as he feels the players long stare as he introduces himself-

"I want you to plug that heart-shaped mic into my pussy after you-" He nearly dropped his mic as the player explains they're desires in explicit detail.

as he tries to continue his script until he can't handle the comments anymore and left the scene abruptly.

You were in shock as the game restarts itself again for the umpteenth time. You knew there were some bugs and all but you were kinda getting a bit annoyed with the constant self-restarting of the game especially when you're in the middle of a scene with a Dateable.

You sigh as you press continue your game. Guess you're gonna have to continue your plan to go to the attic as you open your phone searching the ways to unlock it. As you scroll through your phone you learn that the only way to get to the attic is to find the Skeleton Key aka Keith.

As you read through the comments you notice the certain inputs about the Finely-Dressed Dateable.

"Oh? Now this is interesting..." You laugh to yourself. As you look back at your game beginning to prepare to find this certain Dateable.

But before that you still need to finish getting love endings to the others. After all it wouldn't take that long...

Cabrizzio does one of his flustered poses. One of his hands at the back of his hand closing his eyes as he let's himself hear the unholy words of the player, trying his hardest as to not changed his blushing expression change to pure desire.

"Yeah. I'm ripping you off the hinges- I'm throwing you on the floor and I'm riding you till you bust all over the room- and painting all the walls white-"

Cabrizzio tries so hard not to let the words affect him as he imagines the player actually riding him with passion-still closing his eyes as the player continues their rant on how they want to ride him. He feels his pants tighten up

Wishing that the screen will not show his arousal as the player clicks to hear his next words.

'Dios mio...please let my desires be heard! I want to feel them near me for I cannot handle it no more!'

Cabrizzio wished to himself as he let's the player interact with him till they got the love ending as he let his heart ache with want.

Curt smiles as he let Rod take his turn in their conversation with the player. Something about letting his 'creative juices flowing' which he agrees. Just as he was about to interact. They hear the player interrupt them as said.

"The only juices I want are the one that come out of your penis- So how about you both Eiffel tower me- and just fill me with your cum in both holes." The player says as he licks his lips.

Curt & Rod had their widen as they look at each other eyes filled with shock. Then they look back at the player still looking at them probably admiring their bodies.

On which they feel slightly exposed as both of them try to pinch each other to calm down and continue their interactive like it's nothing. As Rod adjusted his pants and Curt trying to calm his own heart down.

They really wish you could come to them so they could fulfill your promise cause they will never let you live it down.

"Do let me thrust the key into the lock! I want to open you all the way!" Keith exclaims to the player letting his arms spread wide like a mock gesture of embrace as he closes his eyes.

Keith knows that it's only a matter of time before the player realizes him. As he knows that he is the one who is slowly pulling the strings to get what he wants in the end. He then smiles showing his perfect teeth thinking that the player must be so flustered by his actions because of their silence.

He then opens his eyes, his expression turns bewildered as the player only looks at him blankly their eyes piercing through his body.

He immediately turns his expression into a loving one thinking that the player just needed to look at him more so they could feel his "genuineness"

But the player still continues to just stare at him blankly only blinking slowly to show that he is still paying attention to him.

Keith tries to not let himself get frustrated by the players indifferent expression. Then he senses some movement thinking that the player will click to see his next dialogue.

But then they saw them adjust themselves in their chair, then narrow their eyes with a grin as they shows their teeth like how the Cheshire cat as they move slowly towards the screen.

Keith can only freeze as he didn't really prepare himself from what's about to come.

"tsk tsk tsk. Keith...My dearest Keith, I know that you are a manipulate fucking bastard and I know what you're playing at acting all romantic and shit..." The player drawls as he stares at the sociopathic key-man.

Not knowing that said Key-man is trying not to break their perfect composure as he listens to you. Each of your words making his sweat a little. As you continue-

"I know you only want me to realize you, then leave me as if I'm a cheap whore. But I gotta tell you something big man..." You smirked your eyes focused on his.

If not for the fact there's a screen between you two he might as well think that you are truly looking into his soul.

"I am going to ride that bastard cock of yours till I'm satisfied after I tie you up like a damn bitch you are. Then I am going to slowly ruin you, biting you, marking you till you only remember nothing but my tight holes. As I kick you out of my house after I make sure that you will never get the satisfaction you want and will only remember me by the way my holes tighten your dick as I slowly choke you, which I know you'll enjoy cause you're a sick bastard. And I will abandon you like how you discarded Dorian the moment you are done using him. I'm gonna make you live your shitty human life only remembering me and not anyone else till the day you die~"

...

Keith fell silent in shock hearing the most disgusting, sinful and outrageous words that no one had ever had the guts to say to him to his face.

As he tries his hardest to not let both anger and arousal affect him as he gets way more frustrated either because you already figured him out or because he feels his cock harden with arousal as he remembers each and every filthy word that came out of your mouth.

As you finish your sinful confession to one of the most evil dateables. You press click anticipating his nest dialogue.

But all you see is Keith covering his blushing face. You were kinda confused on this new sprite since this was not shown on the guide.

You click again then a new sprite appeared with Keith just staring at you with a manic look on his eyes. You look closer then immediately shuddered. As you feel like he is truly staring at you.

You press again as he still stays in the same sprite but this time with a smirk as you click again, not expecting the dialogue that was definitely not in the guide as he says.

"Hahaha! I would like to see you try my darling, but remember do be careful on what you're asking for the only one that will be ruined here-"

The dialogue stops as you stare in surprise. As you are tempted to click again thinking that this new dialogue is just a joke until Keith smirks again but this time the eyes in his character literally making eye-contact with you as the next dialogue made you gasp In fear.

"is you~ My dear (y/n)~" 😉

#date everything #date everything au #date everything self-aware au #date everything nsft #dorian the door #dante the fire place #regina “reggie” rejection #the sassy chap #cabrizzio the cabinet #curt & rod #curt & rod the curtains #Keith the Skeleton Key

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ynasomniaur · 21 hours ago

Text

｡𖦹°‧ fuck me eyes | s.g

classification: archive (fluff)

synopsis: They say GOJO Satoru is too much — too powerful, too beautiful, too far gone. But no one ever really ever dared to know him and his scars. Until you.

author’s note ⟡ ݁₊ . hi so i finished it hehe this is inspired by ethel cain’s ‘fuck me eyes’ lyrics — “they wanna take her out but no one ever wants to take her home” and that sealed this piece. try reading it while listening to it for just an elevated experience… mwehe not proofread though… enjoy! i loved writing this. lmk your thoughts! hearts and reblogs are highly appreciated. lovelots!

wc: 1.7k

──★ ˙

GOJO satoru is a whore.

at least that’s what people say.

that he’s a notorious playboy or fuckboy — or some other term people would call him every week or whatever — known for incredible and mind-blowing one night stands. his eyes are so damn captivating people go crazy over it the moment he bats it.

people fawn over him. they love him — people practically offer themselves to him willingly, just one look from his ocean eyes and yup, hearts around him remember to beat just to break, burst, collapse.

he’s a heartbreaker, a damn good one at that.

at least that’s what people say.

GOJO satoru is an arrogant asshole who doesn’t give a fuck because he has everything. those cold piercing eyes are just portals of his own apathy.

that he’s a snob, a power tripper; loud and annoying. that since he knows he’s good looking and rich he just takes advantage of the people around him. he’s a know-it-all. boastful. insensitive and apathetic. people say he doesn’t even have a heart that’s why stepping over people is so easy for him.

that GOJO satoru is devoid of emotions — cold hearted.

his eyes reflect hollowness.

at least that’s what people say.

he doesn’t bat an eye when someone offers him chocolates and flowers, how everyday he receives tons of love letters; he doesn’t even show any remorse when he rejects someone that lays bare their heart on their hands, stripped raw just palpitating his name, willingly devout at the mercy of his affection that just doesn’t seem to exist.

it just fucking doesn’t — he’s cold hearted.

not the one to commit. reckless beyond reparation. just another conceited and affluent man who grew up always, always getting what he wants. just another insufferable, maddeningly beautiful man with beautiful eyes that feels entitled to everything around him because, for some reason it does.

that’s what people say.

and he thinks it’s true. hard cold fact burning bright red on his skin full of scratch marks. the curses that slip off the lips of the people he’d been with, tears full of disdain and hatred; lockers and mailboxes overflowing with love letters. maybe he really doesn’t care. maybe he does.

he’s just there… like a mere bystander of what people say about him that each time feels and becomes real. maybe it is.

like a water that takes up the shape of any container it’s in.

the audience of his own mind; the passenger of his own car — never entirely present nor complete. drifting over his hazy waking days full of indulgence and reckless youth. why not?

he’s just there to experience and for so long; he just became desensitized by everything people threw at him.

people want him.

they either want him or want to be him.

but fuck does it also fucking sting so bad, like his skin ripped apart from part by part, nerves from the veins from the tendons from the bones until he’s messily undone by everyone that surrounds him.

a masked vulnerability. they gave him the tools, the cutting edges, ‘you shape it,’ and maybe that’s what love is — to be guided..? but does it actually involve shedding your flesh for the people’s satisfaction?

because deep down he knows the difference between being wanted and being loved and he knew damn well none of it was love at all but over time, over his measly life decisions, over his sins and broken lineage, maybe it is. maybe to be loved is be broken.

condemned.

offered and tainted.

GOJO satoru is a unreal. a divine being. too damn ethereal that most people think he’s carved and molded by the gods themselves and sent him as a touch of blessing and grace in this unruly world; that the closest you could ever get to heaven is through his vastly deep, striking blue eyes.

at least that’s what people say.

more and more years that piles up on his being; he felt much more of a concept rather than a human. he’s smart enough to see the patterns, recognize the botched notions, but what does it change?

awareness doesn’t equate to freedom when you weren’t given a chance to be free in the first place.

so damn untethered. hazy. he’s everywhere but home.

hollowed blue. he’s a concept of damnation and salvation based from what they say. his eyes — always his fucking eyes — that looks like the exact replica of his parents, his father mainly and he’d laugh — his laugh sometimes scares him; its mechanical, a practiced response rather than a genuine reaction — “i know.”

his parents doesn’t know how to raise a child but they’re that damn good at raising hell.

and maybe that’s what he’ll ever be. irredeemable.

never home.

revered as divine by many, abhorred down to his guts by the world, all while he burns skin deep, superficial marrows all dented. fractured. sticking out.

until he met you.

maybe it’s a cruel punishment waiting to strike him down to ashes again. you looked at him in a way that nobody ever did; him as a human not as a concept or rumor or narrative people plastered everywhere.

to you, he’s satoru. just satoru and good-fucking-god that unraveled something within him. something rustic. decaying and withered nursed back to life. slowly.

for so long, he felt like he’s just constantly drowning from everything that his lungs just blown blue and purple until you.

for the longest time, he finally learned how to breathe without suffocating.

not from the contact of air in his nostrils. in his lungs. just... breathing. he noticed how his shoulders drop whenever you’re around, with him. how his tense and monitored breathing becomes even and comes down with a long, freeing sigh.

your presence feels warm. dangerously and tenderly warm sometimes the voices and fatigue from his cracked bones tell him to pull away; its dangerous, until you’d reach out to him and brush his hair away from his face and everything just falls into the most perfect places.

apparently this is what it feels like to be loved. not just wanted. not as a flesh to be used, a vessel to be trained, a figure to blame and hate - just human. humane. loved dearly so, he could feel the adoration for him just from the feather light brush of your fingertips. that was enough.

his eyes that he grew to hate, most times devoid of emotions, peels its sclera and holds the most venerating love that he wish he can say but sometimes the letters couldn’t really trace the complexity of his affection that swells not just within his heart and chest but in his whole being. it runs deeper than his existence.

funny how most of his life he felt like a bystander of his own being, his own lifeline, just drifting but now that he has you…

he feels tethered. grounded. like a body one with the mud and ground and grass, all yours to nurture.

he never learned how it feels to come home for he never was home, but to you it felt somatic. like everything about him just knows your existence like a familiar path to gravitate towards to — path to safety. as if his atoms and cells knew you before he could ever know your name and existence.

he’s already imprinted himself unto you and yours to him.

he’s not cold-hearted. maybe his heart just doesn’t know how to warm itself up. it was a defense mechanism from the piercing criticisms because back then if he let himself feel, he’ll erode. too much of a burden and responsibilities placed on his shoulders. he'll disintegrate.

he’s not a heartbreaker. he was the one who stood before all the people who cursed him with an already broken heart. he just happened to bleed all over others too. and believe me when i say he's utterly sorry for that.

and most of all? maybe he was a whore. all the body counts? yeah fuck he can’t ever undo that. he knows that well enough.

he’s just looking for a home maybe he can carve himself unto. even if it was definitely temporal. to be skin to skin with someone was the closest thing to what feels like home back then.

because maybe if he did it enough it’ll fill the gaping void within him. if he did it enough someone’ll crave him for who he really is rather than just a concept or a flesh.

just him.

he’s not what people say. you reassured him enough for him to believe it… most times. he tries his best because sometimes your love terrifies him — how can such a sinner like him deserve a love so fucking genuine it washes away his dubious doubts and fears?

how?

why?

he knows he’ll never ever be kind enough to himself. just doesn’t seem right. he’ll push you away once the burns that were embedded on his soul sears again. he just doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire of his wrongdoings. sins. damnations. he’ll never ever be the angel people make him out to be.

irredeemable.

at least that’s what people say.

but you taught him that to love isn’t to burn. that it doesn’t have to shout. it’s not turbulent and just blue. that to love is to hold space and hold his hand in the process of you understanding things.

that to love is to finally let yourself be seen. held. loved. even with the edges he thinks is too unlovable. it's not. never will be, because if someone loves you?

they'll witness. they'll hold you, see you for who you are — flesh and imperfections, wrong decisions and just you. already enough, always has been. just made forgotten by the cruel voices outside. you taught him all that and god, it always takes his breath away whenever he knows he's loved. he can't believe he has you. too damn lucky.

he’s undone, but he’s yours. that may be all he ever needs to hear.

or know.

for him to finally be a human and be humane with a home.

to just be satoru.

and that’s the greatest divinity of redemption he'll forever be grateful for.

──★ ˙

author’s note ⟡ ݁₊ . helloooo!!! i hope u enjoyed itt hehe till next time <33if u guys see any typo or read any ungrammatical sentence... pretend its not there hehe i might update please, xanny tomorrow. lovelots! xoxo, yna

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mourningz-dove · 1 day ago

Note

Hello and welcome to tumblr!!

Could you write a fluffy silver x gn reader fic where they're having a picnic and stargazing? I'd like to see your writting style since you are new here :)

‘ ‘ You and I under

the night sky... , ,

Pairing; Fluffy Silver X Gender-Neutral! Reader

Word count; 1.4k

Triggers; Non that I know of

Side notes; thank you for requesting a fic with me! I do hope you enjoy it, and hope I encapsulated what you wanted!<3

ps. love the fact my first fic here is about Silver😭😭 he is such a sweetheart

The night was quiet and peaceful, dotted with a vast amount of white flecks high above, with little to no cloud disturbance. It was serene, some could say. There was only the soft rustle of leaves as the wind blew through them, creating a soft ambience that didn't need words. Just you and Silver, and the few furry and feathered creatures that roamed around, seemingly also basking in the comfort that the twilight brought upon.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye that a squirrel scampered up a tree with chubby cheeks, most likely returning to its home from snagging a few acorns. How a doe and her two twins lurked around you two, curling around her barely two-month-old children, judging by the prominent spots along their coats. The fawns were already fast asleep, yet the mother nestled them closer to her, not in worry or fear, but to keep them close as they used the flowers below, tinged a blue-ish ashen from the moon, as bedding.

A motherly instinct, you figured.

It was yet another thing you grew to get accustomed to whenever you were with the knight, whom you leaned on as he stared up toward the stars above. How animals seemed to surround him, no matter where he went. He was beloved by nature and its creatures, and honestly? You couldn't blame them. He was a gentle soul, kind as he was beautiful, and that was dangerously so. If anything, his nature affinity suited him.

A smile spread across your face, remembering how this whole thing even started.

Silver had planned a picnic for many days with the help of Lilia and Sebek within the forest of Night Raven College, not deep enough where direbeasts lurked, but far enough to see the beauty of nature in its entirety. Sevens, even if there was a monster that crept inside the shrubbery, you trusted him of all people to make sure you were safe. The knight had made sure to pack your favorite dishes and snacks, promising afterward that Lilia did not, in fact, help him with any of the food preparations, no matter how much the poor old fae attempted.

Even the quilt that lay below you two, you noted, was in your favorite colors. The woven basket, once full of goods and treats, is now empty, with various things sprawled on the blanket. Some finished, others bitten into and forgotten. Silver's sword sat a little way from you, as he rarely ever was without it in case of an emergency. A habit and comfort he held as a knight, taught since childhood to be aware of potential threats and prepare for them.

A drowsy voice drew you from your thoughts, along with a movement from Silver, who nudged his head in the direction of the illuminated sky. "...Whenever I was younger, Lilia used to tell Sebek and me that every star was a part of a shape." He started off, glancing toward your face, and it was a wonder if his eyes could get any softer. "He would point to the stars before listing off each and every one he saw... Sebek always fell for it, though. The way he'd stare, so intensely at the sky, trying to see the shapes Lilia pointed out before shouting that this was preposterous." A snicker came from him, most likely remembering Sebek's expression.

To which, you couldn't help but join him in his giggle before asking, curiosity filling your gaze. "What did you think of it? Did you think that each star could form a shape?" It was a stupid wonder, yes, but to hear his opinion on it, to listen to him... You couldn't help but crave it, after far too many times of him listening to your tirades about sevens know what. You wanted to hear his view on it.

He paused for a beat, unsure of how to answer as he glanced back up. "In a way, I suppose I wanted to believe it..?" It sounded more like a question than a direct answer, but he continued, "Even though I'm sure it's impossible, or a trick of the eye to see any at all... It'd be an intriguing sentiment, to say the least?" He said, narrowing his gaze thoughtfully.

Now, it was your turn to point to the sky, exclaiming, "Well, then I think that one's a sword!" In reality, it was just a group of specks in the sky that held no shape you could tell, but the sudden outburst of emotion caused Silver to grin. A genuine one, that reached the corners of his eyes as he looked at you as if you were everything he could've wanted and more.

No, that was wrong, you were always that to him.

It was a gaze he reserved for you, and you alone, and it seemed particularly evident today under the moonlight, where only the stars and animals could witness your bond. "A sword, you say?" He questioned, to which you stubbornly nodded in response. "Well, then I think that one is a bear," He'd say as he pointed lazily up at the sky towards another bunch of flecks.

This was the start of a playful little game, and you sure as hell weren't going to "lose." So, the two of you pointed at random sections of the sky, giggling at what the other came up with. Each one progressively getting weirder and weirder as the game continued, and just as you were about to take your turn, which was going to be a possum with an ice cream cone hat, you felt him lean on you just as you did him. On instinct, you peeked at him, finding that his eyes were closed and his breath was beginning to even out.

You blinked at the sight. Two questions forming inside your head. First question, how long had he been knocked out? Second question... Did it seriously take your two, maybe three, brain cells to create some sort of electrical connection to form a possum with an ice cream cone hat that you didn't notice he was sitting up, snoozing?

Slightly embarrassing, but you decided to ignore that fact for your own sanity.

Instead, you closed your eyes, figuring a nap wouldn't hurt. After all, trying to drag Silver back to Diasomnia was out of the cards, and you couldn't ask animals to carry him. Even if you had, the biggest, anyway, was the doe, and you were not about to disturb that poor mother from her rest. It wasn't like you and Silver were going to doze off for all of eternity, right?

It was a catnap, where you both would get an hour or so of rest!

With that thought process, you took his hand in yours, where your sides collided. And with the whistle of the forest, you let yourself drift away.

. ⋆ ｡ﾟ+ ☁︎ ｡⋆ + ｡ﾟ ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆ . +

When you woke up, the sun was beaming hard on you, the brightness was enough to kill a small Victorian child if he stared too hard, causing you to wince before you nestled into what you assumed was your pillow. But that didn't make sense. Pillows didn't have heartbeats, nor was yours this long or so... Limb-y. You opened your eyes, your vision bleary before noticing familiar silver hair.

Oh.

You had found yourself in a heap of limbs with Silver. The two small fawns, and birds looking down at your conundrum, whom you stared at, bewildered. You then looked up at the sky again, internally cursing at yourself. The attempt to untangle yourself was a hard one, considering one of your legs had fallen asleep and now tingled from being under Silver's. Which was enough to already send you over the edge, but it was the loud, boisterous voice you heard that really did it.

"SILVER! IT IS VERY UNKNIGHTLY TO MISS CLASSES!"

Sebek Zigvolt's voice rang through the trees, startling the fawns and birds, even if he was, for now, far away. You groaned to yourself, giving up your struggle to disentangle yourself before slumping back on Silver. You had no idea how many classes you missed, but at this point? You were comfortable with Silver, and it wasn't like Sebek wasn't going to find you two eventually. So, you might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right?

To you, it was worth missing a few classes anyway.

#twisted wonderland #silver twst #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #twisted wonderland x reader #TWST x reader

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