#alaskan wear

[piensosarapaima]

Mira esto... 👀

[saint-starflicker]

I prefer Love, Dad to PJFA but the answer to "Could we have been raised by two warmer people?" should be "Alaskans"

[once-and-future-alaskan]

Clicked on a youtube video and said "I don't like your eyes." aloud instinctively and with genuine horror after seeing the presenters soulless piercing stare.

[lemonmaid]

A snip i need to get out of my head before bed. (Warnings pregnant reader, not proofed read, I'm so fucking tired)

Poly 141 x pregnant reader.

When you told the boys that you were pregnant, many many emotions but not one was negative towards you.

Johnny was excited, immediately thinking of names and happy that they almost have enough people for a football team (john thinks rugby would be a better sport but who is asking).

Simon who is immediately nervous due to his own family issues, he knows therapy can help with this but he'll be damn if he is ever like his father.

Kyle who is immediately thinking why it is important to know who the father is, even if he isn't the bio dad he is still gonna buy the proper hair products just in case.

John who is already crying, he is a big papa bear now and he couldn't be more happy.

Over the course of your pregnancy, the boys are literally waiting hand and foot for you.

Simon refuses to let you do anything on your own. You want to help with the nursery? No sit down and rest. You need to bend down and grab something you dropped? Nah call him even if he is at work.

John is up your ass about you doing exercises and taking your prenatal vitamins. He wakes you up at eight in the morning to do a light work out for your core muscle then makes you wind down for bed by 9 pm.

Johnny is always ready to make a snack run, even if John is against it, hell he even got back up emergency snacks in the car. Even though you all share an Alaskan king bed, reach over and shove him awake so he can do a quick errand.

Kyle is always with you when you are shopping, 100% he will agree with you on any clothing for the baby, you want the cutest expensive baby towel that is good for eczema? No problem. You think we should do cloth diapers? You're absolutely right, save nature.

When you have to get a body pillow/pregnancy pillow to support your stomach the boys are upset that they can't cuddle you without the pillow being in the way (or the little shit kicks them and it hurts you).

The boys love, LOVE it when you wear tight shirts, I mean look at that adorable bump and Jesus christ your breast have gotten so big.

Speaking of breast, Johnny is always looking at you like a kicked dog when you don't let him "help" you pump.

Please tell them when something hurts. Because these boys take everything too serious. When you started having braksion hicks, they were so paranoid. It got to a point where when you were in labor you didn't tell them untill they were 5 minutes apart. Which freaked them out, rushing you to the hospital.

The boys are 100% supportive of your birth plan, they really are.

But as soon as the contractions hit and they see your pained expression, they are immediately second guessing.

John is bluntly telling you to take the epidural.

Simon is rubbing your back telling you that there is no reward for having a natural birth.

But, you progress, practicing your breathing exercises, you've been training for this moment. You decided to bounce and roll on the yoga ball that was offered in the room, it help with the pressure.

Johnny is the one who has been trying to sneak you food, happy wife (or partner) happy life. But Kyle is nagging him how you cannot have food when you are close to labor (you're only 2 cm and it's been four hours).

Simon is encouraging you to sleep and rest, when you obviously can't Johnny is helping you recheck the diaper bag for the tenth time that night.

Kyle who is walking with you up and down the hall, purposely walking down the hall with the window where you can see the other newborns.

John who is now having panic attack, 'oh god I'm going to be a father'.

When it's finally time to start pushing, one of the nurses tries pushing out the others, thinking that John is the father. It wasn't untill your midwife told them to leave them be and that they can stay.

Simon and John who are holding your hands as you pushed, Johnny is playing with your hair to help distract you from the pain and Kyle is wiping your forehead.

When everyone hears the sharp cry that echoes in the room, the gasp is heard, when the newborn is placed on your chest, they can't help but shed a tear.

Simon and Johnny are telling you that you did an amazing job. Kyle is kissing your head, comforting your cries, John is watching the nurses every move with the newborn.

They all couldn't be more happier.

[ffverr]

Take this art I never posted here!

Basically, what if Scott stayed happy in Alaska and raised baby Nathan and adopted a husky and everything was fine and also they're wearing kuspuks because we should all believe in the Scott Summers native Alaskan agenda?

[dillonmarquis]

Hannah wears: Alaskane. 2024.

[blakeprentiss]

heating up in here

hotchniss alaska au

warnings: smut, case talk, the usual

a/n: this got looooong oops ! for the sake of the story we’re pretending they weren’t matchy matchy and that she is in fact wearing his sweater

(gifs by @aaronwhorechner )

**

“i’m not sleeping with reid.”

emily stifled a laugh, watching as penelope instantly claimed dibs on sharing with morgan.

“come on, spence, we can share.” jj spoke, placing an arm around the young agent to turn him towards the stairs. and then there were three.

rossi wordlessly looked between emily and aaron before sticking his hand out for a key. 4 rooms, 7 people; the math wasn’t hard, there was one single room. and dave knew he had it to himself.

“guess it’s you and me tonight,” hotch said, picking up his bag and making his way towards the room. emily followed in tow, doing her best to keep up.

“you think they have heat?” she asked as she trailed behind, arms rubbing against herself as best she could to keep warm. emily was a cold woman. not emotionally, well, not anymore, but physically cold almost all of the time. needless to say, she was not doing too well in the alaskan weather.

“let’s hope,” hotch said, stopping at the hotel room door. he unlocked the lock, taking a little longer than emily pleased.

“what, did you forget how to open a door?” she teased.

“it’s an old hotel, prentiss,” hotch sighed, finally pushing the door open. “the lock probably hasn’t been changed in decades.” he walked in, flicking on the light and stopping in his tracks. which, naturally, caused emily to walk straight into his backside.

“ow, hotch!” emily yelped, her hand reaching for his shoulder to steady herself. she was about to ask why the hell he stopped walking two steps into the room when she noticed what caught his attention: the lone, king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“you can have it,” hotch said, moving in further and digging clothes out of his go-bag. “you get cold.” emily rolled her eyes, grabbing her own pajamas from her bag.

“don’t be stupid, there’s no couch and you’ll kill your back laying on the floor every night.” she reasoned, watching him make his way to the bathroom. “we’re adults, we’ll be fine.”

“yeah,” she heard hotch call as he shut the door. emily dug through her go-bag, grabbing her pajamas and groaning. the case had been called in hours after they returned from their previous one, meaning she hadn’t had time to properly pack her bag. which meant she had no sweatshirt. sighing, she threw on her sweats and t-shirt and waited for hotch to be done in the bathroom.

he walked out moments later, breath catching in his throat when he caught sight of emily. his eyes flitted down to her chest, nipples visible through the fabric of her shirt. clearing his throat, he looked back up at her and spoke. “no sweatshirt?”

“forgot to pack one,” she mumbled, walking into the bathroom and closing the door. splashing water onto her face, emily sighed as she resigned herself to sharing a bed with her boss. her very attractive boss, no less.

stepping out, her eyes landed on hotch, sitting in bed looking over the case file. he looked up, eyes meeting hers momentarily before reaching behind him. “here,” he said, tossing his brown quarter-zip sweater towards her. “it’ll keep you warm tonight.”

emily smiled gratefully, pulling on the warm fabric and watching it pool around her arms. “thank you,” she mumbled softly, climbing into the bed next to him. “goodnight hotch.”

“goodnight prentiss,” hotch replied, taking a moment to look at her before shutting the light off. god, she looked so good in his sweater. he laid there for a moment, the darkness and silence of the room really putting into perspective his situation. he was sharing a bed with his subordinate, arguably his most attractive one, in the middle of alaska. truly not how hotch had expected his day to end.

emily, meanwhile, had the same thought about her boss looming in the back of her mind. however, she couldn’t bear to focus on that, instead channeling all of her energy into not shivering. as warm as hotch’s sweater was - and fuck, it was warm - she was still freezing. arms wrapped around herself, doing her best to not hog the covers, emily tried her hardest to keep warm and still.

it was no use though, hotch could feel her body twitching every so often. plus, her teeth were chattering so frequently that he thought they would chip. he debated for a moment whether he should sacrifice his own warmth and give her the blanket, or cross the line and give her his embrace. and as much as he wanted to just give her the blanket, he didn’t want to be cold either.

she felt the bed dip first, feeling hotch roll to his other side. then, she felt the warmth encapsulate her body as his arm wrapped against her. finally, she felt his body directly against her back as he pulled her flush to him. oh. she was definitely warm now. their close proximity meant that when he whispered to her, his words went straight to her ear, hot breath tickling her skin. “think you can sleep now?”

no. absolutely not. “yeah,” she whispered back, making a feeble attempt to relax her body and find a comfortable position. instead, however, she found her ass pressed directly against him. she was sure her skin was fucking boiling at this point, cursing herself internally for even moving half an inch. she felt hotch breathing heavily against her, and all she could do was pray he was asleep and close her eyes.

he was not asleep, instead focusing everything on trying not to get rock hard against emily’s ass. unfortunately for hotch, no amount of steady breathing could stop his dick from growing harder. feeling the sudden warmth on her ass, emily smirked to herself. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” she whispered, stifling a giggle.

“emily,” hotch groaned, his tone somewhere between a moan and a warning. keeping her lower body in place, she turned her head around to meet hotch’s eyes. the smirk fell from her face when she was met with nothing but lust from the man in front of her. gasping, she felt hotch’s hand wrap around her waist, snaking its way up bottom of the sweater.

“aaron,” she whispered, a moan catching in her throat. her free arm wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer. she could feel his breath on her lips, inches away from making contact with her own.

and that’s when they heard a scream.

***

“his name’s craig ramey. fisherman.”

the team gathered around the latest victim, all clad in their pajamas and jackets. as the discussion about the unsub’s accelerated schedule picked up, emily’s attention only strayed further. she could practically feel hotch’s eyes boring into her cheek, and if she was still enough, she could almost feel his breath on her skin.

aaron was doing all he could to maintain his professional manner in this moment, but all thoughts led him back to emily. he forced his eyes on the victim in front, around the team, at the cops, but they always found their way back to her.

“it’s still late,” hotch spoke suddenly, clearing his voice. “i’m sure none of us got much sleep, why don’t we all take a couple hours to rest and get ready for the morning?” it wasn’t a question, and he knew there wouldn’t be any rest in his room.

the team trickled apart, each making their way back to their respective rooms. emily stopped at hers, waiting for aaron to make his way from back of the group. he opened the door, and when emily stepped inside it was only a matter of seconds before the door was locked and she was pressed against it.

“aaron,” she gasped, arms wrapping around his neck to stabilize herself. he looked into her eyes, pupils blow.

“what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice about a whisper.

“kiss me.”

and kiss her he did. lips against each other, breathy moans traveling from emily’s throat to aaron’s mouth. she could feel his stubble against her face, turning her on more than she already was. his hips pushed towards her, causing emily to gasp when she felt his cock press against her pulsing core. aaron pulled back, lips beginning to nip along her neck. one hand braced her hip against the wall, the other finding its way through her layers of clothing.

“look so fucking good in my sweater, baby,” he muttered, eliciting a moan from emily as he twisted her nipple. “gonna fuck you so good while you wear it.”

“aaron,” she whined, his name apparently being the only word her brain could form. she released one hand from his hair, bringing it down to fumble with his jeans. before she could even get them unbuttoned, however, he was pressing his hips forward, cock straining against her hand. “fuck,” she groaned. “need you so badly.”

“is that so?” he asked, emily practically feeling the smirk radiating off of him. “take me then.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. she had his pants and boxers dropped in seconds. eyes blowing wide at the size of his cock. emily sunk to her knees, taking her time to work him with her hand. “emily,” hotch moaned, almost as if it was a warning. it was then she wrapped her lips around him, moaning at the string of curses he muttered while she swirled her tongue around his tip. inch by inch, she took him in her mouth, jaw aching from the size of him. she bobbed back and forth, increasing speed ever so slowly and wrapping a hand around what couldn’t fit.

hotch looked down, pupils blown at the sight of emily beneath him. he let out a groan, even more turned on when he felt her gag around him. they locked eyes, emily watching his expressions as she moved back and forth. it became too much, then, hotch tapping her cheek twice as a sign to release.

“too good at that,” he murmured, thumb wiping away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. “would’ve cum if you kept going, and i’m saving that for when i’m inside you.”

it was emily’s turn to groan, which no sooner turned into a squeal as hotch swept her off her feet and placed her on the bed. true to his word, he removed all her clothing, save for his sweater. taking of the remnants of his clothes, aaron climbed on top of her and pressed two fingers to her lips. instinctively, she opened her mouth, sucking the digits nicely until he pulled back.

within seconds those same fingers delved into her wet, soaking cunt. emily moaned, to which aaron placed his free hand on top of her mouth. “can’t have you being too loud, can we?” she shook her head, mouth opening and closing against his palm as aaron’s pace picked up.

“aaron, oh my god,” emily whispered, nearly biting his palm to keep from screaming. he smiled, planing a kiss to her head as he added a third finger inside her. she groaned, head pushing away from his hand and dropping to his shoulder. “fuck, aaron, please,” she whined, feeling herself getting closer to the edge.

“come for me, baby,” he muttered in her ear, groaning softly as he felt her tip over the edge. “good girl, so good for me.” he fucked her through her orgasm until it was too much, emily removing his hand and panting into his chest.

“holy fuck,” she breathed, slowly catching her breath. she looked up at hotch, meeting his soft smile with one of her own.

“you okay?” he asked.

“yeah,” she said. “so okay.”

“good.” he didn’t waste a second before pushing her back onto the bed, spreading her legs as he followed and lined up inside her. she gasped, locking eyes with him.

“please,” she whispered, staring at his hard, leaking cock at the edge of her equally soaked cunt.

“oh god, emily,” he moaned, watching his dick disappear under his sweater and into her pussy. “so fucking tight, so fucking good.”

“aaron,” emily whine, relishing in how good the pain was as his dick stretched out her cunt. she didn’t even want time to adjust to his size, she needed him to fuck her. “move.”

he wasted no time, fucking her with a rapid pace. “oh, emily,” he moaned, a string of curses following under his breath. emily groaned at the sensation, his tip hitting her perfectly. aaron looked up and felt himself getting closer as he watched emily, her mouth agape as she bit back a whimper. “so good for me,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. “i’m so close.”

“inside,” she responded, no hesitation. “please.”

“of course,” he whispered, picking up the pace and moving impossibly faster. he felt emily’s orgasm before she did, her moans combined with the clenching around his cock pulling his own. he spilt into her, stilling as they came down from their high.

he pulled out, laying down next to emily and turning to look at her. she turned to him, a soft smile on her face that matched his. “what?” she asked.

“you’re beautiful,” he responded, pushing her grown-out bangs out of her face. “pretty girl.” she blushed as he planted a kiss to her cheek, pulling her into his arms.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” she spoke, her voice muffled against his chest. “can i keep the sweater?” she asked a moment later, feeling his chest vibrate with laughter.

“for the rest of the trip, sure.” he said. “i have others i can wear. but i want it back, that’s my favorite one.”

“yeah,” emily sighed. “me too.”

[piensosarapaima]

BOTAS DE VADEAR ALASKAN WEAR CENTURION TRACKING (ACWBT11) Color Verde Tamaño 45

https://arapaimabeitia.com/botas-para-wader/325-75-botas-de-vadear-alaskan-wear-centurion-tracking-acwbt11.html#/15-color-verde/37-tamano-45 BOTAS DE VADEAR ALASKAN WEAR CENTURION TRACKING (ACWBT11) – Construcción dura que fija el tobillo de forma segura; – La punta y el talón de la bota están reforzados con detalles especiales de goma; – El saliente del talón facilita la extracción de las…

[tomeebear04]

Draw Tom and Tord (or Tom and whoever youd like) gutting fish on an Alaskan commercial fishing boat. Make sure theres a bucket for the fish remains, dirtied. Make sure theyre wearing appropriate attire for the job. (Rubber/plastic coveralls.) This is not hobbyist fishing, its a grueling job they are forced to do together. Whether Tom delights in this or is grimacing is up to you. His face is streaked with sweat and maybe a few fish scales. (With shipping) The rest is up to you.

nice vision

[hugsandchaos]

Ideas and scenarios for if Eudaemon was swapped so that the Links ended up in Danny’s universe

•Danny was hanging around one of his favorite spots, an abandoned observatory (which is not his haunt!!), when he saw a dark purple portal. He’d never seen a portal that wasn’t green, so this was very alarming. As he approached, Legend came out.

•Or, let’s say it was late and Danny wanted to check on his abandoned observatory and found the nine heroes. One of them was awake, so he kinda just approached in ghost form and was like “What are you doing in my house?”. After the old man, who was apparently nicknamed Time, explained how he and his group followed a shadow monster through a portal (which was strange, but okay), and seeing how the weather forecast predicted heavy rain soon, Danny was okay with them staying and invited Time and his group somewhere better suited in the building than the large room with cracked glass ceilings. He got some extra blankets from where he stored them and left a first aid kit with the group as well.

•Over the next few weeks, Danny would try to guide the group in ghost form and help them out. After all, this shadow monster could certainly cause some serious trouble for him. It’s not necessarily exhausting, but he already has so much on his plate, and now this? He’s usually pretty tired when they see him.

•The real trouble comes when they try to help out in ghost fights and meet him in human form. He appreciates the help, but they don’t have the right gear and knowledge yet! And he can’t let them figure out that he’s half ghost! He understood they have a strong sense of justice pretty quickly, and he absolutely dreads the thought of them trying to defend Danny, but only making things worse by getting the attention of ghost hunters.

•Danny teaching the Links hand-to-hand combat, gets sword lessons in return.

•Danny telling them that if they bring Wolfie out in public, they have to say he’s a husky or Alaskan malamute or animal control will be called. Wolfie doesn’t have to wear a collar, they can just say he’s chipped.

•Danny teaching them ghost stuff.

•The group gets a ghost guide!

And my favorite?

Danny gets shot out of the sky by his parents or other ghost hunters and the chains sees it. They rush to him and defend him from the ghost hunters. Bonus points if it’s the Fentons trying to capture “the ghost kid”, and tell the group that ghosts are evil and yada yada, and the chain hits them with logical questions and tells them about how they showed up to his house uninvited and he helped them rather than kick them out or attack them.

I desperately need the Links figuring Danny out and interrogating him about why he’s letting himself go on like this.

[once-and-future-alaskan]

Coining a clothing aesthetic: "Metal Gear-Core." There's no real actual guidelines as I have only realized I frequently dress in it but I can tell you that it involves a precise mix of cold war to early GWOT military surplus with modern skin tight base layers. Stretchy compression/moisture wicking fabrics type things.

Think Big Bosses exposed underarmor type sleeves under his Vietnam tiger stripe fatigues in MGS3. Not quite tech wear but adjacent.

[mediumgayitalian]

It starts really…really stupid.

The Apollo cabin is having a movie night. Will’s DVD collection is bigger than his textbook collection, which is saying something, because he is a nerd. They baited Nico with a pirate movie: then, when he was comfortable and moon-eyed and unable to keep his mouth shut for a good twenty minutes after the end credits, they started phasing in the rom-coms.

Evil. Manipulators, the lot of them; so incapable of lying that they’re masters of bending the truth. Nico would leave, except they literally barricaded the door and keep all the lights on so there are no shadows for him to duck into (something he should have questioned from the very beginning, but unfortunately as soon as the Pirates of the Caribbean theme started playing, his reasoning skills hopped on a train and fled back to the Lotus Casino in 1938. So).

“This is stupid,” Nico grumbles, not that anyone is paying him any attention. Every single one of Will’s siblings stares at the TV with their chins in their hands, completely ignoring any and all of Nico’s (very valid) criticism.

Not that it stops him. “This is less realistic than Davey Jones,” he insists, largely just so his grievances are Known and Aired Out. The leading man says something stupid and cheesy, and three seperate doofuses in his company genuinely swoon. Nico scowls as hard as he can, pulling a blanket over his head. “Idiotic and cheesy.”

Nico pointedly isn’t following the plot — not that there is one — so he has no idea what’s going on. He squints. The leading man is wearing some ugly suit, too tight, and the leading lady collapses tearfully in his arms, thanking him about something.

Will sighs dreamily. Nico scowls harder.

“When is it my turn,” Will laments.

Kayla reaches over blindly and pats him on the head. She ends up more smacking him gently and lovingly on the face, but Will doesn’t seem to mind.

“Don’t we all want to know.”

“You don’t understand,” Will says dramatically. He flops backwards, hands flailing. Nico peeks over from under his blanket. His Head Medic camp shirt has ridden up in his dramatics, showing a sliver of skin. Nico flushes and intentionally looks away, focusing on his friend’s face.

“When will a rich, attractive older man come waltzing in here and offer to put me through med school, huh? When will my dream come true?”

Nico is 90% sure that Will is joking, but without his permission, be blurts out —

“You’d run off with some guy you don’t know?”

“Without hesitation!” Will cries. He yanks himself back upright, making Nico jump, arms thrown up and forehead creased. “You know how broke I’m gonna be when I’m done school?”

Nico doesn’t answer, but Will doesn’t wait for one.

“Very! I grew up on a pullout couch, which, I love my mom, and I love our apartment, but I want — I want —”

With his long, lanky limbs and flushed face, he begins to remind Nico of a kettle. He refrains from pointing this out. His siblings, on the other hand, openly snicker at him, dividing their attention between the movie and throwing popcorn at their eldest brother’s head.

“I want an Alaskan King! And — a mahogany desk! With lots of drawers! And windows! Floor to ceiling windows! And a rooftop garden!”

He glares playfully at his siblings, who are all giggling now, pointing fingers at them all.

“Lemme tell you right now. A man walks in here offering me that and a cheque for any school I want and it’s over for you people. I’m gone. You can fend for yourselves.”

“Yeah right,” Austin snorts, disbelieving. He reaches over and pinches Will’s thigh, cackling when he squawks. “We can’t even get you to leave the infirmary at the end of your shift. You’re stuck here forever, Rapunzel.”

“Just you wait! My prince will come!”

“As if he even wants a prince,” he hears Kayla whispering to a giggling Gracie, who responds with a cheeky, “Not when he’s got a king!”

Nico doesn’t know who they’re talking about, but the fact that there’s someone — his vision goes green. He has to tamp down a genuine snarl which is — ridiculous. And out of nowhere.

He cuts another glance to Will, who is still muttering petulantly. Every few minutes, he hears something about an “open floor plan” and “high pressure showers”.

He gets a very, very stupid idea.

———

The first mistake (because that’s what it is) is easy to explain away — the Hades cabin is still under renovation.

Well. Mostly.

“Please,” Will is begging, eyes big and pleading and painfully, beautifully blue. “Please? I’ll bring movies! And Yan’s Wii! And get Cecil to lend me some of the games he — uh, acquired! Pretty please!”

Nico has to bite back the you could be toting a pack of Lastrogonian giants with you and I’d still let you in that so desperately wants to come out of his mouth.

“Bring snacks and I’ll consider it,” he says instead.

Will beams. His eyes nearly squeeze shut, when he smiles like that, and there’s nothing Nico can do about the sharp inhale that rips through his chest. He blinks the spots away from his eyes, everything suddenly a little brighter, covered in golden sunlight.

“Yes!” Will cheers, pumping his fist and jumping up and down like a lunatic. Nico is so endeared that it aches something awful in his chest, and his cheeks smart from the size of his smile. “Sleepover! After my shift, di Angelo, I won’t be late!”

Yes, you will.

“I lock my doors and set a skeleton guard to watch it at eight,” he warns with a throat suddenly dry. “I mean it, Solace. I’ll sic the harpies on you.”

Will laughs as he jogs towards the infirmary, clearly not believing him. Nico watches him go the whole way, jumping when a hand lands on his shoulder.

“You,” says Drew Tanaka, blowing a bubble with her gum, “are a humiliating case, di Angelo.”

He shoves her, scowling. His face feels sunburnt. “Shut up.”

He absolutely does not spend the day moping after the infirmary, despite whatever rumours Drew’s lying mouth might spread. He has a job, thanks. He runs three separate sword fighting classes, and the younger kids are insane, so he doesn’t have time to be distracted.

Not that he is. But. Hypothetically, if he were to be distracted, he isn’t. Yeah.

He sits with Percy and Jason at dinner, distractedly wolfing down his food. Some kind of barbecue. He is not paying attention.

“No, Jase, we can say whatever we want, he’s not listening —”

“If he decides to stab you I am going to let him —”

“What’s going on?” Nico interrupts, looking up for the first time.

Percy smiles angelically, placing his hands under his chin.

“Nothing, Nico dear.”

Jason bangs his head on the table.

“I’m gonna…leave,” Nico says, slowly. “Y’all…do whatever you’re doing.”

“You said y’all,” Percy says gleefully. “You said y’all.”

Nico flushes hotly. “I did not. Shut up before I summon Jules-Albert to run you over.”

Percy cackles. Even Jason laughs. Nico throws his plate at them as he stomps away, sprinting extra quickly past the infirmary for no reason at all.

Time seems to slow down after dinner. For all Nico knows, it actually does. It wouldn’t make a difference. By the time there’s a knock on his cabin door, the sun has well past set, and Will is smiling sheepishly.

“I didn’t hear my shift alarm,” he says, the second Nico opens the door.

Nico sighs. He bites the corner of his mouth, hard, so it doesn’t do something stupid like turn upwards or something.

“There’s ADHD, and then there’s you, Solace.”

Will leans into his personal space and presses an over-exaggerated, smacking kiss to his cheek before he can stop him. Nico goes scarlet.

“But you love me anyway!”

There are no thoughts left in Nico’s brain to refute him. The only thing shaking around up there are alarm bells and KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! repeated over and over again like a gong.

“Hngh,” he says, intelligently. Will doesn’t seem to notice, striding confidently right into the cabin.

“I brought the Wii and movies and stuff, like I promised, and I’ve been saving this chocolate I bought last time I went into the city — woah, when did that get here!”

Will freezes in the middle of the cabin, gaping. Nico nearly walks right into him.

‘That’ is the giant, brand-new bed tucked snugly in the far right corner — an Alaskan King.

Nico clears his throat, shrugging.

“Remodelling, remember? The coffin beds had to go. And no one else but me sleeps here, so. Hazel has her own bed on the other side.”

He gestures to the other corner, where Hazel’s — smaller — bed sits, empty, coral pink comforter straightened neatly. Will barely even glances at it.

“What! But I thought you already renovated the beds —”

“Temporary.”

Will squints at him for a moment. Nico squirms, trying to hold his gaze. He’s not lying — they were temporary. Of course, he only made the decision that they were temporary a week ago, but. Well. Truth is truth.

Evidently, Will decides that he isn’t going to get a real answer out of Nico or he doesn’t care to get one, because he quickly turns away and, with a running start, jumps and sprawls himself on the gigantic bed.

“Oh, gods,” he groans, and oh, gods, indeed, is Nico ever going to get a fucking break or is his face just going to be stuck like this all the time. “Gods, Neeks, I am going to move in here. I don’t even — look! I can stretch all the way and I don’t touch the edge!”

“I see that,” Nico says weakly. His shirt has ridden up again. Nico bites back the confessing comment he wants to make about undershirts and how Will should invest in them.

“Man, I feel like I could pass right out,” Will sighs, eyelashes — they are so long and so blonde who decided that who gave him that right — fluttering shut. He grabs on of Nico’s pillows and curls around it, content. Nico stares. And stares.

After too much time has passed, Will cracks an eye open, smiling slightly. “Well, don’t just stand there, Death Breath. Bed’s more than big enough for us both, now. Get over here.”

Miraculously, Nico does, managing to unglue himself from the floor and look anywhere but the long, languid stretch of Will’s body.

(They play four straight hours of Mario Kart — or, rather, Will spends four straight hours losing. When they finally fall asleep, they’re so far apart on the giant bed they might as well be in different countries — but Nico wakes up in the middle of the night with his arms around Will’s waist, and practically throws himself on the ground for the rest of the night.)

———

The next thing he does is just…embarrassing.

“I think you look hot,” Mitchell, Piper’s brother, assures him kindly. He pats Nico’s flaming cheek. “Honest. And it’ll work wonders! Will’ll be struck.”

“Why do people keep saying that,” Nico croaks. “I don’t even like him!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

With Mitchell’s unwavering — if teasing — assurance, Nico finds the courage to step out of the Aphrodite cabin and into the waning sun. He’s grateful he waited until after the summer ended to do this — the fewer people around the witness, the better. His reputation is hanging on by a string as it is.

A wolf-whistle rings out the second he steps off the porch, making him scowl. Cecil, unfortunately, is far too used to being on the receiving end of it and does not even flinch.

“Looking spiffy, Ghost King!”

“Bite me,” Nico growls back, and is only aware of the trap he’s walked into when Cecil gleefully says, “I believe that’s Will’s job, actually —”

He wisely scampers away before the skeleton Nico summoned can murder him.

The second he’s out of sight, Nico slumps.

What is he doing.

“Aw, jeez, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Lemme tell you the gar-bage I had to endure tod — Nico?”

Nico whips up to face the voice. Will stands a few feet in front of him, unmoving, wearing his scrubs today — heavily stained, yikes — and his favourite pair of ratty cargo shorts. The expression on his face is oddly inscrutable.

“Are you…going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Nico says, flushing and repeating himself when his voice cracks three separate times. “Yeah, I’m. Um. Ambassador of Pluto duties, you know. I’m expected in New Rome in a couple hours.”

It’s not quite the truth — he is going to be in New Rome in a couple of hours, but his reason for being there is fabricated. Literally.

“I didn’t know you were visiting today.” Will steps forward, almost trance-like. His eyes are glued to somewhere around Nico’s chest, and he reaches out — hesitantly, although he’s never been hesitant to touch Nico in all the time he has known him — to brush his fingers over Nico’s collar. “This isn’t what you usually wear.”

Nico swallows. No, it is not. Usually, his Ambassador of Pluto uniform is his black toga. (It still is. If he was actually on duty and showed up in anything else, several Romans would have his head. Good thing he’s full of it.) But right now, he’s wearing a tailored, black silk suit made by hand by some dead Byzantine seamstress whose name Nico could not pronounce if he tried. Diamonds glitter in the lobes of his ears, freshly pierced, and his rings are more polished than usual.

“Special occasion today.”

Will doesn’t say anything for a long moment. His hand still curls at Nico’s collar, millimeters away from his neck, heat boring into his skin.

“You clean up nice.” An expression Nico can’t name flits across his eyes, and Nico’s breath catches, and then he’s grinning, too-wide and teasing, reaching up to dig a hand through his hair. “But maybe ditch the hair gel, Wilbur Robinson, and just let —”

“Gah! Get off of me! You’re the worst!”

Will stumbles back as he shoves him, weak from laughter, and Nico’s stomach flips.

———

The third thing is maybe the most ridiculous out of all of them — and almost gets him killed.

“I’m starving,” Will complains, apologizing to the random New Yorker who just walked into him. (Nico rolls his eyes. Will would get eaten if Nico wasn’t here — he is too soft for the city. He’s gonna get shoved into a puddle or something; he’s so unwilling to elbow his way through a crowd that Nico has to hold his hand so as not to lose him. Definitely not a city boy, that’s for sure.) “And we don’t have to meet Argus for another two hours — can we stop for food? I want something fried. Desperately.”

“I guess so,” Nico sighs, pretending to be more put-out than he is. Will doesn’t buy it for a second, rolling his eyes hard enough to hurt.

“C’mon, Nicholas Hoult. There’s gotta be a diner around here somewhere, and I still want to go shopping after this.”

He lets Will pull him around, even though they’d probably get somewhere faster if Nico leads. Will stops every three seconds to listen to a busker, or observe particularly interesting graffiti, or attempt to pet a pigeon. It shouldn’t be cute, it should be embarrassing because Will truly never gets out, but it is — endearing. A little. Even if Nico can feel his stomach eating itself.

Will brightens when he finally stumbles across some gaudy, mint-green painted, hole-in-the-wall family restaurant, beaming back at Nico like he won a sparring match rather than stumbled upon somewhere to eat. But his eyes are squished shut, the way they are when he’s genuinely excited, and some early January snow dusts his golden hair, and his nose is red from the cold, and it’s just —

It’s a lot.

They find a booth tucked in the back corner. Will slides in next to Nico, not across from him, and it makes him — flush, for some reason, cheeks glowing as bright as Will’s massive, dorky scarf.

The waitress brings them sodas. Nico doesn’t remember ordering them, but it’s cherry coke — his favourite — so he must’ve. Will has a water, because he’s annoying and pretentious, and he tries to blow his straw wrapper at Nico but he’s too fast and catches it. Will pouts.

“You’re no fun.”

“I’ll show you fun.”

He’s balled up the wrapper as tiny as possible and flicks it at Will’s face before he can stop him, except it hits him in the — eye, and Will shouts in surprise, and Nico jumps and rushes to apologise but he’s laughing too hard for it to be sincere, and Will scowls playfully at him, and Nico bangs his knee on the rickety table trying to move it and it only makes him laugh harder, and Will cracks soon, too. And he can’t sing for shit but his laughter is musical, low and baritone and a little raspy on the edges, like the country music he loves so damn much. And all the laughter gets sucked right out of Nico’s lungs as he watches him, bright-eyed, red-nosed and freezing, still wearing his stupid parka even though it’s barely below forty degrees, and he is suddenly achingly truly and obviously the most beautiful thing Nico has ever seen in his life, and he thinks oh, no. But it doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

———

(After the diner, they go window shopping, and Nico feels like he can’t function. His chest aches with new knowledge that he doesn’t know where to put. New York air is disgusting but Will smells like eucalyptus and sunshine, always, and the look on his face when they pass a dusty antique shop is blinding. He’s rambling about old anatomy textbooks and gods knows what else and Nico nods along with a stupid, endless smile on his face that he couldn’t tamp down if he tried.)

(In the back of the shop there’s a big, ancient, beautiful mahogany desk. It has a divot for an inkwell and more drawers than Nico can count. It’s nine hundred dollars. Nico pulls out the credit card his father gave him for emergencies, buys it before Will can stop him, and shadow travels all three of them — himself, Will, and the unbelievably massive desk — back to Cabin 13, passing out immediately after to the sound of Will’s shout.)

(His father is the first thing he sees in his dreams, arms crossed, legs tapping.)

(“I believe I told you that card was for emergencies,” says the Lord of the Dead, “not crises over cute boys.”)

(“You were down so bad you kidnapped your wife instead of talking to her like a normal person,” Nico blurts, and immediately wishes he would melt into shadows.)

(He wakes up to another arms-crossed, foot-tapping figure: Will lectures him for two and a half hours. He times it.)

(But Will does all his paperwork in the Hades cabin, now, skin glowing amber under the Greek fire torches, often falling asleep on the smooth wooden surface. He hasn’t spent a night in the infirmary in months. Often, if Nico can wake him, he’ll crawl into Nico’s massive bed, curling all six-two of him into a ball around the centre and puffing tiny little snores into his pillow.)

(His cabin smells like eucalyptus and sunshine all the time, now.)

———

He tells himself that this will be his last thing.

(It isn’t.)

It takes him four separate times to muster up the courage. It’s — humiliating, is what it is, and he’s never been a coward except for maybe about this one thing.

“Dude,” says Katie Gardener, the fifth time he walks by her cabin without saying something, “this is getting embarrassing. Pull yourself together.”

“I’m — pulled,” he defends, wishing he didn’t get red so damn easy. “And — what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at college, or something?”

“College ends in April, stupid,” she says, as if Nico has more than a fourth grade education and would somehow know that. He refrains from sticking out his tongue because that is Undignified, and clearly he is the more mature one of the two of them. “What do you need, flowers for Will or something? You don’t need to bother. He likes dandelions.”

“I know what flowers he likes,” Nico snaps, and wallows in immediate despair as she snickers. He should consider having Will remove whatever part of his brain is responsible for Stupid, Emotional Outbursts. Or just get a lobotomy. Whatever’s faster, honestly.

“I need — a garden.”

“…A garden.”

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he begs.

Perhaps college has somehow made her merciful — which he doubts, anyone who sustains a relationship with Travis freaking Stoll stopped worrying about mercy long ago — or perhaps he truly is that pitiful. But she relents, rolling her eyes and muttering something about stupid teenagers and refusal to communicate, blah blah blah. Nico knows he’s a mess. He would appreciate it if everyone else politely pretended he wasn’t. She comes back minutes later with a truly massive bucket of soil, a handful of gardening tools, and several packets of seeds.

“Well, you don’t have a lot of space for it, kid, seeing as your cabin is kind of tucked —”

“I want it on the roof,” Nico interrupts. He manages to keep his face in check. “Uh, that would make the most sense, anyways. It’s flat and I can get there easy and — yeah.”

She narrows her eyes at him. Years of Hermes cabin pranks have left her with a truly magnificent BS detector, but after a moment she sighs.

“Whatever, kid. Let’s go. Nothing will grow for a couple months, anyways.”

———

The last thing is what, eventually, gives him away.

The issue is that camp is crowded in the summer. And, really, he would have gotten it done in the spring, except he needed help — he needed an architect.

And he only really knew one, and her school year was kind of packed.

“You want,” says Annabeth slowly, “to entirely restructure your cabin.”

Nico squirms. “I just want to change the windows,” he mumbles.

She stares at him, fingers steepled, for what feels like ten solid minutes. At minimum.

“Kid —” Nico scowls, she is barely three years older than he is and technically almost a century younger — “installing floor to ceiling windows in your cabin will restructure it — entirely.” She pulls out a paper and pencil out of, as far as Nico can tell, absolutely nowhere, and begins to sketch. “There are foundations here, see? So everything has to be moved and reorganized to keep the structure standing. I can’t just, like…knock out the wall. It doesn’t work that way.”

Nico slumps. “So it’s not possible?”

“I didn’t say that,” she snaps, offended. “I just said it won’t be easy. Gimme a couple hours, I’ll have blueprints.”

She barely hears him as he thanks her, nose already pressed to the paper. Nico smiles at her anyway. She’s the best and brightest of them for a reason, after all, and he appreciates her help.

The walk back to his cabin is a surprisingly pleasant one. A lot of his friends (which, woah) are finally back, and Nico is realising he’s missed them, and it’s nice to see them again. It’s also nice to see camp as busy as it is, as much as he likes the quiet chill of the winter months. All the cabin doors are wide open as people sweep out the dust, shake out sheets, air out the staleness that has been locked inside some of them for months. Chatter fills every corner, and the air smells like strawberries.

His small smile widens as he approaches his own cabin — the flowers he and Katie planted a few months back have started to bloom, and with them comes the memory of Will’s gasping excitement when he’d seen them, the smile that lit up his face. They’re regular plants, but Katie — enchanted them, somehow, protected them; even when Nico is having his worst days, they don’t wither. (And they keep growing, too. Nico has taken to picking a flower every morning and leaving it in his (Will’s) desk — to brighten up the room, on paper, but the flower always ends up whenever Will is by the end of the day. (And, more often than not, tucked behind his ear, locks of golden hair caught among brightly coloured petals; a crown of his own making.)

The cabin is empty when he walks in, unsurprisingly considering how often Will is usually locked in the infirmary for the first week of camp.

(He’ll be back tonight, to do his paperwork before heading back to his cabin. Nico’ll have to be sure he actually makes it back to his cabin — Chiron has been turning a blind eye, because Will needs more sleep and Kayla and Austin can handle themselves, but the little kids need their counsellor. Well, most days.)

Nico stands in the door and realises: things have changed.

Maybe a silly thing to think. But — a year ago, this place was unliveable. Dark, and dreary, coffin-shaped and miserable, it was no wonder it had never felt like home. But the sight of Hazel’s bed (and the sketchbook she left on it last time she was here) fills him with warmth, and the windows are always open, now, so even the air feels lighter. Dozens of Will’s textbooks are strewn around the room, Lou Ellen’s jacket hangs on the back of the desk chair, a deck of cards is sprawled on the floor. A sun lamp is plugged into the wall. Nico’s giant bed is unmade. He’s got laundry peeking out of the closet doors, and he needs to clean his bathroom. A pair of obnoxiously patterned flipflops sit by the door.

It looks lived in. It looks like somewhere that can be lived in, and most of all, his friends — Will — have been living in it with him.

He swallows the lump in the back of his throat, stepping in and shutting the door behind him.

It takes him time to tidy up. He leaves Hazel’s sketchbook where it is, along with most of Will’s stuff — although he shoves a couple textbooks in random drawers when he trips over them. He puts the rest of his friends’ stuff by the door so he doesn’t forget to return it, and makes his bed (which, frankly, he hardly does, because it’s a massive pain — he tucks in one corner of the mattress cover and has to freaking summon Jules Albert to get to the other. But it was worth it). He barely makes it to dinner, too distracted to hear the horn.

“Finally,” bursts a voice sometime around nine, throwing open the door and flopping on the bed. Nico smiles, setting down his game and running light fingers through Will’s frizzy hair. He groans, leaning into it.

“I hate the first week of camp!”

Nico snorts. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do! It’s miserable! It’s all —” he contorts just face, mocking — “‘Will, do this.’ ‘Will, do that.’ ‘Will, I forgot how hard the climbing wall was and incinerated myself.’ ‘Will, we need you to treat the group of kids Clarisse beat up.’ Will, Will, Will! Constant!”

“How dare they take up all your time,” Nico says, grinning.

“Right! They should be less — I dunno, disastrous! I am one person! I can only be pulled in so many directions at once!”

Despite all his complaining, the slightest of smiles pulls at Will’s mouth — as Nico would expect. He’s exhausted and perpetually overworked, sure, but there’s nothing in the world Will relishes like being needed.

“I just —” He sighs, leaning further into Nico’s touch. Nico’s throat goes dry. “Man, I’m so glad we have this place to ourselves. It’s the only privacy I get. Sometimes I just wanna close the blinds and never come out, you know?”

Nico freezes. “Uh.”

“And it’s — nice, in here. Smells like you. And it just, well —” He smiles, broad and soft, and, suddenly, Nico understands his father on a level he never thought he would. If Will looked him in the eye and asked him for all the riches under the Earth, asked him to defy Zeus, asked him to rule the dead — Nico would bend time and space to do that for him. He understands, abruptly and wholly, why loving mortals ends in tragedy, why the gods promise more than they can give. He wants to give Will everything. “I like when it’s just you and me sometimes,” he says, softly. “It can be nice to disappear.”

There’s so much love bursting out Nico’s chest he doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels like every part of him is screaming his affection, every molecule is straining to meet with Will’s. He’s dizzy.

“I,” he starts, then freezes again. He doesn’t know what — what. Every thought he’s ever had hits him at once, and he can’t pick one out, can’t think with all the clutter in his head.

Will perks up. “Yes?”

“I have to. Cancel. My plans. With Annabeth.”

Will deflates. “Oh.”

There is something here, something charged, something about to change — and Nico is losing it. He panics.

“I asked her to restructure the cabin!” he shouts, startling Will. He squeezes his eyes shut instead of looking at those wide, wide blue eyes. “To! Make. Floor to ceiling windows.” He waits a bit. “Apparently you can’t just bust down the wall. You have to. Restructure.”

It’s silent for so long Nico is half-convinced Will left, if it weren’t for the faint sound of him breathing and the heat Nico can always feel leeching off of him. He peeks his eyes back open.

“Why?” asks Will quietly when their eyes meet.

Nico swallows. It takes several tries to moisten his throat enough to speak. “Why what?”

“Why do you want to…have floor to ceiling windows?”

“Same reason I wanted this massive bed,” he admits, quiet, whispering, near silent. “Same reason I — changed my Ambassador uniform. Same reason for the desk and the —” he stumbles over his words, blushing — “the garden and the flowers and — this, right now.”

“Nico,” says Will, very very quietly.

“I just. Well. You were joking, you know? And, gods, it’s been a year, now, but I think you were telling the truth? A little bit? And anyway, I want you to have the things you like, and —”

“Nico,” Will says again, louder this time, a particular quality to his voice Nico can’t name. He falters.

“…Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Nico doesn’t even have the chance to be offended. He doesn’t even have the chance to think. Before he can rationalize the situation and connect the dots in front of him, Will’s hands are sliding into his hair, his face is inches away, and then they’re kissing.

They’re kissing.

Will tastes like Blistex, like mint gum, and like the breath he sighs into his mouth. His eyes are closed, and for a full six seconds before Nico recovers enough to close his, he has the best view of his pale, fanning eyelashes that he’s ever seen — long enough to think: oh, this is a child of the sun. He smells familiar and — intoxicating. Nico never wants to know pure air again, never wants to move without the brand of Will’s over-heated hands on the back of his neck. Never wants to forget the rough scrape of Will’s chapped lips, the tiny little sounds and sighs he makes every time Nico moves their mouths, the slightest curl of his lips when he smiles, unable to hold it back. The rapid beat of his heart, pressed against his own chest.

“Nico,” he says again, slightly more urgent, pulling away just enough that their lips still brush every time he speaks, “Nico, I love you to death.”

“I would do anything for you,” Nico chokes out. He meets Will’s eyes and tries to — communicate it to him, tries to beam his thoughts into his head. “I would — move the moon and stars for you, do you understand that? Do you know how precious you are to me? My tesoro,” he says, feeling Will’s breath hitch. “Il mio cuore. Il mio cuore battendo, sole.”

For a second Nico frightens himself. He’s never spoken words like that to anyone in his life — not his mother, not Bianca, not Hazel, nobody.

But Will’s smile is radiant. And he still holds Nico, gently, and says over and over, “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Something slots back into place in his chest.

[tswhiisftteedr]

Valentino Doodles lol

I am aware this is a writing account/blog/tumblr, but I felt like posting this here fitted the vibe(Though, it is still cross posted to my actual art account, @maviscarlettie ) (Also I’d like to thank everyone who contributed to the Vox and Val’s clothing style post,

as it help me find references for both this and future posts)

I just want to say that this man is so hot, like, god ‘Damn it, Valentino!’

Honestly I just want this (moth)man and his tv head boyfriend to throw me on their, probably Alaskan king size bed, and tag team me- hdhdjsjsjdjke, horny thoughts, hehehe~ >:)

[lunacyxxx]

Differences Aside

MDNI Ghost and Konig are your plugs, but what you didn't know was that they were each other's opps. So, one day you decided to buy from both of them. It was like one of them always had something the other didn't.

You were already kind of high when you were talking to them and thus, here's the tale of how you ended up between two sworn enemies.

Contains: drug use, dominant masked men and fingering nd stuff

not proofread, idk how many words this is. I hope yall enjoy it.))

The sun was going down and you just finished all your tasks for the day. It was time to reward yourself with your normal routine of getting high, you entered your home and smiled excitedly. You quickly make haste to your bedroom getting undressed and going into your personal bathroom, you turn on your shower and begin your nightly routine.

You came out in a towel and went to your closet putting on a long t-shirt and spandex shorts. Music sounded through your room when you connected your phone to your speaker and sat at your desk. The bottom drawer to your left had all your goodies in it, you noticed you were on your last nug.

Coincidentally, you got a text from your plug Ghost.

Ghost: new pack came in, lmk what you want and how much luv.

One thing about Ghost, despite his intimidating appearance, he had a soft spot for you. Honestly when he first pulled up to your place, he wasn't expecting someone who looked like you to smoke. He was surprised when you gave him some extra cash for gas so since then, he's always made sure you got what you wanted and sometimes added in a little extra.

You smiled at his text and replied asking to see his menu, he sent it a couple minutes later and you looked over it. He wasn't lying when he said new because some of this stuff you've never heard of before. You pondered over your choices as you rolled up, "Hmm."

You: I'll take the (fave cereal) edible and a 3.5 of Alaskan Thunder Fuck please and thank you :)

Ghost: Okay darling, I'll be over there in about 2 hours. This would normally be $50 but for you its $30, see you soon

You like his message and light your joint taking in a steady inhale, moving over to your bed you open your window and pull up your laptop to watch youtube. About an hour later, you finished your joint and was watching YouTube until your phone lit up with another text.

Konig: I got new stuff for you to try ;)

Ah Konig, the tallest dude you've ever laid eyes on. How ya'll met was kind of funny, he had the wrong address and was parked outside your home when you went outside to get the mail. He got out of his car and came up to you and thought you were the customer who placed an order earlier that day.

You two talked and he realized he made a typo in the gps, but you still ended up buying something from him since Ghost was out of town for that week. Talk about good luck, right? So like Ghost, he sometimes adds an extra and gives you discounts.

Konig sent you his list and he had new shit too.

You: I'll take one of your carts, you can choose whichever one you wanna give me and a 3.5 of GSC please and thank you.

Konig: Of course, you know I got you. It's gonna be $30 for you."

You liked his message and leaned over to your nightstand grabbing your wallet and taking out the cash you needed.

The cool summer air brushed your skin when you stepped outside to wait for your plugs to pull up, the familiar rumble of Ghost's car and Konig's truck coming down the opposite sides of the street. Ghost parked on the curb and Konig pulled into your driveway.

They both got out, Ghost stood at 6 '4, wearing black sweats a black long sleeve and of course his skull balaclava. Konig hopped out his truck, standing at 6 '10 he wore his sniper hood, gray hoodie and black jeans.

The two men caught sight of each other, and they both pulled out their pistols ready to shoot, "Now wait a damn minute!” The both of them jumped at your sudden yell.

"First of all, this is what we're not gonna do. Especially in front of my house. Secondly, what the hell is y'all problem?"

"Tell me why the fuck he's here first!" they both said, the differences in their accents now very apparent and you felt a very slight ache down there. (iykyk)

"Uh because y'all are my plugs? I can't have two plugs, you both end up having different stuff that hits hard; especially when I mix the two together."

“We actually don’t get along at all," Konig said, eyeing you.

"Yeah, something like this isn't supposed to happen,” Ghost spat out while glaring at Konig

A look of realization crossed your face and you looked between the both of them, "How about you put your differences aside and let's all smoke. I don't really care for stuff like this unless someone I know, and love is involved and stuff. I mean, neither of you shot one another yet sooo."

The two men looked at you then at each other before lowering their weapons, both of them mumbling something under their breaths. You walked over to Konig and gave him the money; in turn he gave you a medium baggie which was new.

You then walked over to Ghost and paid him and he gave you a bag that was around the same size as Konig's. Neither of them would admit they liked pulling up to give you your weed, they often invited you inside their vehicles to chat and show you some of the other products they had.

"I forgot to ask, do either of you have more things to do, I don't wanna stop your bag or anything."

Ghost shook his head and Konig spoke up, "I always save the best for last. Why do you think you always get a little something extra meine liebe?"

Ghost rolled his eyes and scoffed, "I hate to agree with his ass but same here. I'm free for the rest of the night."

"Mkay, now that's settled we can go inside. I should have one of y'all roll, out here just pulling guns on each other and shit." You lead them into your home, the living room has a comfortable sectional with a matching ottoman. There was a mounted tv with your entertainment center underneath it, a bookshelf with books, crystals and all your favorite things.

"Make yourselves comfortable and no fighting, I do have a cast iron skillet and won't hesitate to pop someone with it." You ignore the chuckles coming from both men as they sit on opposite sides of the couch, not without mean mugging each other until you come back with your rolling tray, water and some snacks.

You scooch past Konig while saying excuse me before you sit in the space between them, and thus the smoke session commences.

After about 30 minutes, all three of you were slouched on the couch completely zooted watching Planet Earth. (A/N: idk about y'all but that's the best thing to watch when you're high asf, speaking from experience)

"That lizard has some fucking balls running through all those snakes," Konig commented. You and Ghost nodded, the both of you completely tapped into the show. Over the course of the session, you were sandwiched between them, their thick thighs pressing against your own.

Ghost looked over at you, his eyes red and half opened while they took in your appearance. His eyes flickered up only to catch Konig doing the same thing, Ghost felt a bit ballsy so he put his arm over your shoulder pulling you closer to him.

"Uh?"

Konig saw this and slipped an arm around your waist, also pulling your hips to him. "Hey, what's up with the both of you?"

You looked between the two of them and you could feel the tension building slightly, you honestly liked the idea of your two plugs showing you this much attention. Yet you hoped it wouldn't turn into some type of blood bath anytime soon, "If you guys wanted to cuddle, you could've just asked."

"Let's see who can make her cum the most," Ghost said. You could feel Konig readjust his grip to hold your hips and squeeze them slightly. "Well, I'm already where I need to be. I call going first, as long as meine liebe is okay with it. Ja?" The way the taller man stared you down through his hood had you shook, his red eyes portraying more than just being under the influence. You couldn't stop yourself from nodding.

"We need you to say it darling, if not then we can pretend this never happened."

Not wanting to lose this once in a lifetime opportunity, you gave them the answer they were looking for. "Yes, I'm fine with that."

You felt your shorts being pulled away and cool hands going under your shirt, Ghost moved with a sense of dominance and roughness while Konig too expressed his dominance but in a slightly possessive manner.

Ghost adjusted himself so one leg was on the couch and your back was pressed to his broad chest. Konig gripped your thighs and spread them open with a satisfied huff.

Konig admired your bare pussy before lifting his mask up and diving right in, his tongue lapping at your clit before tracing through all the creases and folds to get a better taste of you. Your moans and lewd slurps echoed through the living room. His tongue moving slowly, as if he wanted to map out each curve a dip of your core.

"Don't forget that I'm here," Ghost murmured. His hands were massaging your breasts and playing with your nipples under your shirt, the overload of the difference in the way they were handling you turns your mind to mush.

You could only imagine how they acted once they got you where they wanted, Ghost took a hold of your throat. His lips brushing past your ear as he bit it, he tilted your head back and looked down at you.

His lustful gaze causing your pussy to clench, Konig noticed the moment you two were having and pushed two fingers inside of your sopping pussy. He angled them up and began thrusting them, Ghost kept your focus on him while he eyed Konig.

The two of them having a heated stare down while you wiggled between them.

Your juices were soaking the Austrian's hands as he slowly worked them in and out of your slick heat, lewd wet noises mingled with your moans in the hazy living room. Konig pushes his fingers upwards trying to find that spongy spot that he knows will drive you crazy, Ghost watches him work his fingers inside of you. His own erection throbbing in his pants, Simon pinches and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger ensuring that he was making you moan louder. 

His hand is still around your throat keeping you in place.

Your breath hitches in your throat when Konig finally finds that spot, he hums and presses on your lower tummy. “There we go, take that shit y/n,” Konig growls before jerking his digits in and out of your pussy roughly. Simon held you close to him, cutting off your air supply slightly while he watches you come undone. His large hands move to grab your wrists to prevent you from pushing Konig away.

At this point you couldn't control your mewls and your thighs were quaking, broken moans leave your gaping mouth as you feel a strong coil in the pit of your tummy. You try to tell Konig to slow down but your words only come out as quivering babbles.

Your feet plant themselves on the couch as your hips buck under Konig’s hand, you throw your head back on Ghost’s shoulder crying out as that coil snaps and you gush all over Konig’s hand and face.

"Bedroom. Now,” the both of them were surely going to break you.

[dillonmarquis]

Skye wears: Alaskane. 2024.

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue October 1, 1963

Mirella Petteni wrapped in a black-dyed Alaskan seal fur cape coat by Fouke—actually a wide, nine-tenths-long cape with narrow, set-in sleeves. Designed by Emeric Partos. Wear-Right gloves. Hat, wrapped like an Italian peasant scarf, in organza; by Christian Dior-New York. Lipstick; Revlon Stormy Pink.

Mirella Petteni enveloppée dans un manteau-cape en fourrure de phoque d'Alaska teint en noir par Fouke - en réalité un large pan de cape, neuf dixièmes de longueur, avec des manches étroites et montées. Dessiné par Emeric Partos. Gants Wear-Right. Chapeau, enveloppé comme une écharpe de paysan italien, en organza ; par Christian Dior-New York. Rouge à lèvres; Stormy Pink de Revlon.

Photo Bert Stern vogue archive