#and an aspect takes over his body as he's falling bc it felt bad or something

[axellis]

[lovelyunholyc]

starving, darling

!!nsfw, minors and blank/ageless blogs dni - will be blocked :)!!

fem!reader, names (sweetheart, baby, darling, my love, reader calls him good boy). praise, spitting, oral (f! receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex. gratuitous descriptions of making out...bc who doesn't want to eat choso whole.... ',:|

you have no measure of the power you hold.

to bring a strong, towering curse to its knees, to make him feel something he had never felt before, had been missing for a millenia, an eternity, it seems, sometimes. choso himself cannot fathom the power you hold over him, cannot seem to comprehend why he so willingly lays himself at your feet - you, a delightful little beauty, a simple little human.

choso likes to be held like this, you had learned quickly. in quiet moments, in the safety of your bed, he buries his face in your bosom, arms secure around your waist, and you brush through the tangles of his hair with your fingers, soothing his scalp; just that morning you'd helped him brush them into those unruly buns he likes, that endear him to you so much. his weight across your bottom half is comforting, his warmth seeping into you.

he's still a little shy to ask for what he wants, but already you've learned him and can glean from the tired droop of his eyes (though they shine just a bit when he sees you), the pout pulling at his lips, and you open your arms and pull him into you.

he'd known he loved you when he watched you dress his brother's wounds that first time. your touches were tender, yet firm and sure, unwavering.

and then you had turned to him, that adorable pinch of concern to your brow, giving him a once over to ensure he was unharmed, before wrapping him in a bone crushing embrace. he'd laughed at the contrast of your gentleness with yuuji to the strength you displayed when you squeezed him.

you're full of contradictions: soft yet hard, tender yet tough, loving yet - when necessary, ruthless. he wants to unravel every single one of them until he has you figured out completely, and then memorize every aspect of you until he can think of nothing else.

he still hasn't had the courage to tell you.

when you hold him like this, so soft and warm and adoring, soothing the aches in his muscles, the cloudiness in his mind, he thinks he doesn't have to.

choso looks up just to be able to admire your beauty, cheek to your chest, ear pressed to the steady thrum of your heartbeat, and you pause stroking his hair to smile softly down at him. "hi, handsome," you purr.

heat rises to his face; he'll never get used to your praise, would rather sing yours instead. still, it makes his heart flutter every time, makes a giddy feeling take over his chest.

he hides his face back in the fabric of your shirt, suddenly shy. it was bad enough for his heart that he'd found you lounging in bed in nothing but one of his undershirts and your underwear, warm and smelling fresh and faintly like your favorite perfume.

you giggle, a sound so lovely that he swears he could listen to it forever, and revels in how it vibrates through your chest and seeps into him. "choso," you call so sweetly, he has no choice but to turn to you once more, cheeks burning. "can i kiss you, sweetheart?"

the nickname makes him blush even harder, though a zip of pleasure buzzes through his body at the confident way you address him, knowing he wouldn't ever refuse.

choso just nods, raises himself up gently to meet your lips.

though you're below him, you dominate the kiss. with a soft nibble to his bottom lip, he parts them easily, lets you slip your tongue into his mouth to coax his out for you to suck on. you lick at his lips, slow and purposeful with your movements, intent on getting him to moan sweetly against you (which he does quickly), on making the back of his neck prickle with pleasure, his fingers to twitch at your sides.

he loves the way you taste, how quickly you can make him fall apart on your tongue. the way you tug lightly at his hair to maneuver his head the way you like, to delve even deeper and take over his mouth. he loves letting you take control of him, his pleasure; you take such good care of him, let his thoughts and worries fade away and allow him to just (feel).

when you pull back, you leave him breathless, panting lightly but smiling because you continue to trail your lips up the line of his jaw, across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose to follow the inky black line bisecting his face. he closes his eyes and revels in your careful attention, your soothing touch. he hums in satisfaction, like a cat purring low and lovely, and the sound makes you giggle softly against his skin.

you touch your noses together and grin, kissing him once more before beckoning him to lie next to you. you sling your arm around his neck and lean over him, your faces still barely a breath apart, basking in the closeness, the comfort.

"how are you today, baby?" your words are simple, soft against his skin as they brush along the strong line of his jaw, but they make his chest warm.

before you, who else outside of his brothers had cared enough about him to know?

choso takes comfort in the warm weight of you settling across his chest, soft hands cradling his face, the pads of your thumbs smoothing absently over his cheeks, and the intensity of the day that had worn away at him so forcefully, instantly dulls and melts away beneath your touch. he relaxes completely in your hold, a bliss he'd never known and from now on would never let go to the best of his ability.

"fine," is all he says, though watching his expression change, knowing all his tells, you know he means much more. "i missed you." and that, you know he means tenfold by the emotion in his voice, the tender hold of his hands on your hips, long fingers drifting up along your lower back beneath the hem of your top, chasing the warmth of your skin.

for someone so skilled in blood manipulation, he never seemed to be warm enough without touching you.

the constant little reminders he gives you that in his overabundance of time on earth, you're something completely new to him, entirely different and extraordinary, somehow - it never fails to make your heart race.

"mm, missed you, too, my love."

you grin almost sheepishly when you say it, though he knows that doesn't take any sincerity away from the sentiment, especially when it brings heat to your cheeks, makes your smile so lovely.

my love. your love. his love.

choso can't help but smile with you, tilting up almost imperceptibly in search of your pretty lips again, yet you indulge him so easily, as if on instinct, as if you can read his mind as naturally as breathing.

you kiss him soft and slow, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him, as if you were memorizing his mouth all over again. the quiet moan he lets out, that you swallow up without hesitation, coaxing out more, more, more, makes you shiver inexplicably. you only let him go for mere fractions of a second to breathe, and neither of you could be happier to drown in each other, in the deep, passionate movements of your lips, your tongues, sharing breaths until you're lightheaded.

it's dizzying, how much he wants you. now, more than ever, but always. now, most, because it's the present - later he knows he'll want you even more than he ever has.

when you pull away a final time you're grinning devilishly, cheeks full with it and a shade darker with the rush of blood, lips wet and bitten an irresistible red that makes his mouth water even more. you've somehow migrated into his lap, legs on either side of him, fingers woven into his soft hair, his own hands caressing your back beneath your shirt and squeezing appreciatively at the thick of your thighs.

you see the lovesick look in his pretty eyes, clouded with desire and syrupy sweet, and can't help but chuckle quietly to yourself, though you must know you're not much better off.

"what do you want, darling?" you ask from mere centimeters away, tracing his plump bottom lip with your thumb, leaning in to kitten lick at it and swipe your combined spit away from the smooth skin.

choso nearly whimpers, his tongue darting out on instinct to follow the trace of where yours had been, his eyes glazing over even further. you know, of course you know.

you pull back a bit further, sitting up on his hips, hands propping you up on his chest. you had felt his cock stir a long, breathless moment before, and it ached now, hard and heavy against the heat of your center, confined beneath both your layers of clothing, twitching and throbbing for attention.

"you look like you want something, sweetheart," you purr, teasing, and the difference in your tone presently from when you'd first spoken, the dangerous gleam in your eyes now, is enough to make his head spin.

choso wets his lips again, desperation coating every syllable. "i want you."

you smile wide, satisfied, reward him with a slow roll of your hips that makes his jaw drop just a little. "yeah?"

"yes, i-" he cuts himself off with a gasp when you do it again, "-i want to make you feel good."

the sincerity, the wholeheartedness that floods his voice and the look in his eyes, how eager he always is to please you, always makes your heart melt. you pause, leaning back down to kiss him again, short and sweet, a small reminder of your overwhelming affection.

"you will, choso," you murmur against his lips, feel his whole body tremor with excitement and anticipation beneath you. "as long as it's you."

when you pull away again, he follows you, holds you close to his chest with big arms winding across your back, fingertips traversing over the smooth expanse of your skin. you smile when you capture his lips again, reluctant to part until he finally asks, "may i pleasure you?"

you can't help but giggle quietly at his politeness, charmed as you always are by how earnest he is in everything he does, a sort of genuine innocence in his actions and the way he carries himself that opposes his physicality and age. it never fails to send you reeling, heat blooming in your gut.

you nod easily, kiss him as if in answer. you nip at his perfectly petal-soft lips, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth before releasing it with a satisfied hum, grazing your teeth along the skin just to make him shiver. your fingers drift back up to his jaw, caress at the edges of it as you shift carefully up his body, straddling his stomach instead so you can stare down at him from a higher angle with a wanton smile.

"can i give you something first, darling?"

the hazy lust gleaming in his eyes intensifies as he blinks slowly, eyelids heavy under your own hungry gaze. he's breathing heavy from your kisses and the anticipation, chest heaving beneath one of your palms.

"please," choso breathes, ever so polite, the movement of his lips tickling the pad of your thumb when you trace over them again, hand gliding down to pinch his chin gently between your thumb and forefinger. there is no pressure behind your touch, merely a guide - support, because his body knows instinctively what to do, poised and ready.

your grin is nothing short of wicked. you can't help but lean down for a moment to peck at his lips again, before rising back up and pursing your own.

choso clutches at your waist with lightly trembling fingers, pretty lips parting so nicely as he opens up for you, tongue resting dutifully on his bottom lip. you splay your fingers out across his throat in a loose grip as he bares it just for you, thumb tracing over the edge of his jaw. the hand on his chest moves to tangle through his soft, soft hair, like silk between your fingers, and he looks up at you expectantly, eagerly, eyes shining with the thrill of it, the silent plea for you to take care of him.

it doesn't take you long to gather enough saliva. you watch him carefully, releasing it slowly to drip like syrup down onto his waiting tongue, stroking lovingly at his jaw with your thumb.

"good boy," you whisper sweetly when he swallows you down like it's nectar, and you feel his adam's apple bob beneath your palm. he shivers at the praise, tilts his chin up in that way again, hearts in his eyes and all across those pretty lips, slick with your spit and his own, searching for more of you, so you giggle softly and shift again to kiss him deeply.

when you render him breathless again, he speaks through soft pants. "i want you to-" -there's that hesitation, the pause before he can say what he truly wants, encouraged to continue when you peck lovingly at his pretty face- "-can you cum on my face?"

and who are you to deny him?

you nudge your nose against his fondly, already shoving at the flimsy waistband of your panties, giddy at his promise. "of course, darling," you breathe against his lips, swallow down his low groan as he helps you wriggle out of your underwear and slides his fingers up between your folds.

you're soaked - his long, elegant fingers glide easily along your slit, his thumb practically slipping over your clit and making you jolt.

choso doesn't bother much more after the initial touch - he's impatient, and feeling your sweetness on his hand isn't nearly enough to satiate him and only further delays what he really wants. you huff a little when he grabs at your thighs and hoists you up to nudge your pussy closer to his face, laughing softly at his eagerness and petting at his hair before positioning yourself properly, his head below you and between your knees.

before you can ask if he's even ready, choso pulls you down, kissing at the crease between your inner thigh before diving into your sweet, dripping cunt.

he groans appreciatively, deep and guttural, after giving your slit one long, slow lick, from your hole to your clit, punctuating it with a swirl of the tip of his tongue at the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it to flick at it until you're whining and trying to squirm out of his hold from the intensity. choso holds you firm with those strong fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, a smile playing at his lips when he finally releases your clit to lap up your sweet nectar instead.

he takes his time, savoring you, sliding his tongue smoothly along your folds and relishing how you mewl for him, at each gush of arousal he coaxes out only to lick up and moan with satisfaction. the vibrations of his deep voice against where you're most sensitive leaves you reeling, clutching at the headboard and his soft hair below you, back arching when he delves his tongue deeper, dipping into your entrance as far as he can go, his nose nudging at your clit in tandem.

"oh, fuck, baby," you whimper when he thrusts his tongue into you, shameless in his open enjoyment, whining along with you as you spout random praise, and bucking his hips into the air inadvertently.

he snakes one hand down to relieve some of the ache, squeezing desperately at his straining cock, your breathy cries of his name and the obscene, wet sound of him lapping up your slick like music to his ears. he could swear he sees heaven when you tug at his hair, when he withdraws his hand from himself in favor of urging you to start grinding on his face, two of his fingers slipping easily into your entrance.

your hips stutter first in uncertainty, concerned about him, like always, but choso doesn't loosen his hold, one hand clutching at your bottom and pushing you forward onto his flattened tongue. soon enough, with his fingers pumping in rhythm, it feels too good for you to resist, and you lose yourself on his hunger to taste you, to take from you until he's satisfied. your hips are moving wildly, chasing the sweet friction of his smooth tongue, the tip of his nose, the tremor his voice elicits when he moans so deeply, pleased at what he can do for you, how much pure pleasure only he can give you.

he knows your body so well, he can tell instantly when you're close - the choked up gasps, your muscles beginning to tense - he sucks ruefully on your clit once more, curling his fingers in just the right way to press into that sensitive spot inside you. he doesn't relent even when you throw your head back with a sharp cry of his name, hips shoving down on him and undoubtedly complicating his ability to breathe - no, instead, he doubles down, pulls his fingers back and forces his tongue as deep into your fluttering hole as he's able, just so he can feel your walls spasm around his tongue and greedily swallow down everything you gush out as you orgasm, completely lost in his brand of euphoria.

choso loses himself too, forgets about his own aching cock begging for release still confined in his pants - he could care less about breathing properly either - he licks into you with vigor, mesmerized by your sweet, pretty little pussy, until you're wriggling away from sensitivity, thighs quivering, weakly pushing at his fingers still gripping tightly at your cheeks (where he's surely left bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and the thought makes him shiver in delight).

when he finally lets you go, you collapse into bed beside him, rolling on your side to sling a shaking leg possessively over his waist, grinning gleefully up at him; the sight of his face, reddened with exertion, tainted all across with a mix of your arousal and his spit, hair mussed and sticking to his dampened forehead - gives you a whole new rush of giddiness. you're both breathing heavy, but despite that, you bring him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. you run your tongue along the seam of his wet, red lips, shades darker and swollen with use, moaning softly at the taste of yourself, before licking into his mouth, sucking that capable, lovely tongue into your own mouth.

"oh, you're so sweet to me, aren't you?" you coo when you pull back, laughing breathlessly and swiping at the mess on his face with your fingers. "so lovely." you pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose as you go, nosing at his heated skin and delighting at his soft smile and the gooey look shining in his eyes, clearly lovestruck.

choso preens under your attention and praise, fingers twitching on the small of your back when you trail yours down the solid plane of his abdomen. "my love," you continue quietly with your nose pressed to his cheek, your tone so gentle yet palpable, your breath tickling his skin, making him shiver, "you're so good to me, so handsome too." he closes his eyes and can't help but whine helplessly when your hand slides under his waistband and fists his cock.

you thumb at the glistening head before pulling it out fully, glancing down just to catch a glimpse of how pretty you know it to be, thick and heavy in your hand, throbbing with need and already so wet with his excitement. you squeeze tighter at the base then, cooing at him once more when his whole body jolts at the sweet pressure. "oh, my poor baby." you kiss him again, pumping his cock simultaneously, eager to swallow up all the pleased little sounds he makes. "i'll take care of you, too, okay?"

choso just nods vigorously, eyebrows scrunching up adorably as you swirl your thumb over the tip of his cock again, flicking at the frenulum and toying with his sensitivity. he gasps out your name when you twist your hand on your downstroke, and you nip at his jaw playfully, so charmed by his reactions.

"you wanna cum inside me, baby?" you're back at his lips, biting lightly at them as you wait for him to compose himself enough to answer between heavy breaths, his fingers kneading restlessly at your waist. "i want you, choso, want you to fill me up nice and deep, like only you can."

he bucks up into your hand at that involuntarily, and it takes all his strength not to keep going lest he spill into your fist before he can even get between your legs again. "y-yes, please," he nearly whimpers, spurred on by another passionate kiss you grace him with, to switch positions and hover above you, on his knees between yours.

you pull at his top until he tugs it off and tosses it away carelessly, your fingers immediately tracing over the ridges of muscle along his chest, his abdomen, nearly purring with satisfaction when they flex and jump beneath your touch as he moves. you trace along his scars, too, etched into his otherwise smooth skin, cruel imperfections that you've already memorized, continuing your trail even when he bends to get closer to you, capturing your lips again like he can't bear to be even that far from you.

he moans so deliciously into your mouth when you find his dick again, wasting no time and pressing him against your pussy to coat him in your slick. he ruts against your folds, he can't help it, you're so warm and wet and heavenly, and he didn't know he could be so impatient.

"inside, baby," you murmur against his lips, breaking him out of his trance only to put him in another spell when you guide him to your entrance.

your back arches as he pushes into you, agonizingly slow despite how wet and wanting you already are, your muscles barely offering any sort of resistance. choso splits you open in every way, you think, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in just as deeply as he feeds into you, stretching you wide on the swollen crown of his dick and pinning you in place, hands fisting the sheets beside your head, his elbows locked behind your knees. you're taking him so nicely it's like your cunt is sucking him in, walls clutching so sweetly at his cock, as if you're made perfectly for him.

you sigh happily when he pulls back just a bit to thrust back in to the hilt, when he finally fills you so completely you think you can feel him lodged in your throat, throbbing with desire for you and hot, hot, hot. your eyelids droop with pleasure, watery with your blissful little smile as he pauses right there where you can feel the most of him, just to hold you even closer until you're sure there's not any possible space between you.

and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"feels good, love?" your words are heavy, thick with emotion and the overwhelming pleasure you're feeling, nearly slurred together with your adoration for him.

choso nods again, kisses at your cheeks and nose, nips at your pretty lips. when he looks at you again, you think his eyes hold stars in them for you, sparkling in his irises and falling across his cheeks. "s'good, darling, so good." he sounds just as intoxicated as you, raw and vulnerable, and you giggle softly and bring him back to your lips then, swiping tenderly at the skin just below those pretty eyes, at the tiny droplets of diamonds that escape them, at the stark black mark across his face.

"you're so beautiful, choso," you whisper, and his cheeks burn so furiously you wonder how your palms haven't been scorched by them, laughing quietly to yourself at the thought. it seems silly, but you can't be bothered to believe it is, not when he feels so good inside you, so snug and warm and lovely, and he's enveloping you so wholly in his embrace, and his heart beating erratically against your own feels all too much like you're home. safe, blissful.

choso wants to hold you forever. he wants to mold you to himself so that he never has to let you go, doesn't care in the least how irrational it may be, he loves how you feel, how you make him feel, just by being this close. he wants to tell you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, he'll ever see all his life, and if he were to live another millennia, that your eyes may just hold all the answers in the universe - but he chokes on his words when your walls flutter around him, when you claw at his back and wordlessly urge him to start moving.

instead, he whispers, too, a broken, breathless confession, dripping with emotion, "i- i love you."

you gasp, whether from his revelation or the slow roll of his hips he isn't sure, but he is sure you heard him and know how sincere he is, breathing out a stuttered response just as ardently.

choso thinks he loses himself again, in the sweet clasp of your pussy, in your low moans and how your body moves for him, only pulling him closer, until he all but drowns in you, happily.

his pace is unhurried but undeniably deep, balls squishing up against your ass, savoring the tight heat of your walls around him, the sharp, fleeting pain of your nails raking across his back - he loves the sting, is too lost to wonder whether it seems wrong to. the wet sound as he pounds into you, so deep it takes your breath every time, nearly drives him into a frenzy, makes him want to make a bigger mess of the both of you.

he doesn't stray too long from your face, he loves your sultry, blissed out expressions just as much, loves every little reaction you give when he nips and pinches lightly at where he knows you're most sensitive, when the head of his cock hits undeniably deeper, teasing at that spot that drives you wild. he doesn't even pull back far enough to remove the shirt you're still wearing, instead rucking the hem up with rough fingers just so he can lick and suck at your nipples and make your back arch off the mattress.

"so pretty," he murmurs into your skin, almost to himself, but the deep cadence of his voice against you gives him away, makes you shiver. "my love, my love." he repeats it like he can't help himself, carves into you like he's trying to shape your perfect cunt to his dick, like he wants to forget how it feels so he can keep doing it for the first time again and again and again. you all but squeak when his pelvis grinds up against your swollen clit on every downstroke, breath caught in your throat when he licks at your pulse, squeezes at your thighs. he's everywhere, devouring every part of you, it seems, and you couldn't be happier to let him, to trust him so thoroughly with the softest, most vulnerable parts of you.

choso groans so deeply, it vibrates through your entire body, makes you shudder pleasantly. he finds your lips again, swivels his hips a little quicker, and you're panting lightly into his mouth, that little smirk shining through.

"close, baby?" you lick at his lips, fingers tugging at his hair. his pupils are blown charmingly wide, eyelids heavy as he only grunts in response, hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you - you laugh lightly, nibble at his bottom lip. "cum for me, handsome, i wanna feel you."

his next moan is so resonant, it shakes through him - and you by extension. he pulls out until only the flared head of his cock stays inside you, shifts a little higher on the bed, gravity stretching your legs even wider, hips lifting up along with his. when he plunges back in all the way in one smooth thrust, you nearly scream. the angle somehow makes him hit even deeper, the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix. you're mewling, grasping desperately at his shoulders, his biceps flexing with you trapped between them as he drives his cock deep into the sweet clutch of your cunt.

you're rendered speechless by the force of his thrusts, your whole body jostled by it, your insides undoubtedly battered.

the reminder of his silent strength makes you whine a little higher, like wordless praise spilling from your lips.

choso whispers out your name like it pains him, over and over as he chases his high, his dick spasming inside you within just a few more heavy, gut-wrenching thrusts. you reach up to weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair and tug, back arching, and he gasps, pretty eyes rolling back in his head. in one startlingly deep stroke he's spilling inside you, pumping you full just as he'd promised, wave after wave pulsing into you, the feel of it making your walls clench and squeeze in turn. you whine along with him, hold him as close to you as you can, choso clutching onto you just as desperately, almost as if he's melting into you, until you're molded into one.

he ruts into you lazily until it's too much for him, until he feels raw with oversensitivity. he comes down panting heavily into your sweat-dampened skin, just as you start to languidly chase the sweet grind of the base of his cock against your swollen clit.

you're still stroking his hair, praising him softly, "good boy, so sweet to me," trailing gentle fingers across the planes of his back, almost as if in apology for where your nails had dug bright red lines into.

choso shivers blissfully with the aftershocks of pleasure, with the soft tickle of your fingers on his skin, and he feels insatiable. he presses wet lips onto wherever he can reach, up the line of your neck, your jaw, your pretty lips, and pulls back just for a moment to look at you. just as dazed as he feels, warm and rosy with love, eyes droopy and shiny with it, fluttering along your lashes and in the playful little smile on your lips.

oh, how he adores you.

he kisses you again, licking at your lips and sucking on your pretty pink tongue before drifting back down the way he came, dropping kisses all along your body with reverence. he spends precious time at your chest, finally sliding your shirt off and kneading at your breasts and sucking and nipping at each pert nipple until he's satisfied, until your voice catches in your throat from moaning.

when he has to pull out to continue down further where he truly wants to be, he bites his lip in displeasure at the loss of your warmth. but he's immediately appeased by the view before him, by the lewdness of his seed spilling forth from your hole, the way it leaks out and catches on your folds, the inside of your thighs.

choso almost instinctively slides his fingers through your pussy, scooping up what he can and pushing it back into you, plunging his fingers into your entrance in a futile attempt to keep it in. your fingers tighten almost painfully where they're woven in his hair, and wordlessly, he continues his trail of kisses down your stomach. he's handsome even in the mess of you, in the wreck you've both left of each other, and especially when he's down between your legs.

he presses his lips against your hip, nips at the supple flesh of your thighs.

"darling?" you question breathlessly, but he's so thoroughly lost in you he barely registers it as he suddenly laps at your swollen clit, his fingers still plugged up in the sweet clutch of your cunt.

your reaction is immediate, back arching and voice breaking on his name as he kisses and licks at your sweet pussy. his tongue flicks at your sensitive bud, teeth grazing at the hood of it before his lips wrap around it and he sucks, and you nearly scream his name. your hips start to buck up against his face, and he holds you down with a strong hand splayed across your hip, the other still occupied, fingers now pumping into you.

choso takes his time. his lips are laden with worship, his tongue reverent, gratuitous. he eats you out like he'd rather be doing nothing else for the rest of his life (he thinks that's true), like nothing makes him happier than feeling your walls hug at him, sucking him in so sweetly, your sweet nectar leaking out just for him to swallow up and savor. he licks his release clean from you just to mess you up again, just to make you whine and cry from pure pleasure, tears dripping from your eyes because your body can barely comprehend so much of it.

he hardly realizes it when he's rutting against the bed, hard once more just from eating you out again, his fingers now replaced with his tongue because he wants to taste from you directly, wants to feel it on his tongue when you clench up and cum just because of him.

and he hardly realizes when he cums too, almost instantly after you do, until his vision goes white and he whines against your pussy just as your velvet walls pulse and squeeze around his tongue, your release spilling into his greedy mouth, lips smacking lewdly as he laps it all up through both of your orgasms, filling him just as he'd filled you with his seed.

he loves giving to you, receiving from you. he's so tired of taking, weary of seeing destruction at his own hands.

when he sees the wreck he's made of you, your entire body trembling with the force of what only he can give you, he thinks he's found the measure of his own power.

and when you still reach out for him, kissing him like nothing else matters to you, he knows you have much more of it than he.

[xycuro-illuminati]

Bitter exes stuntdevil lore masterpost

Ok so here's the full lore of the bitter exes stuntdevil (Daredevil/Stunt Master divorce) story with how it went down and everything lol (images have alt text)

Big reminder that this would be my version of DD so keep in mind that Matt is Latino here and that I will be taking certain elements from shadowlands here (I'm sorry fellow dd mutuals I just like the whole demon possession aspect by itself. I don't like shadowlands and I think it sucks I just wished they made him into an actual beast demon yknow).

To give a summary of how it goes: The Hand is not involved with the Beast demon at all, they're not going to show up whatsoever. In this version, the beast demon is just a parasitic demon that was hiding in a flower that a group of cultists summoned and when Danny Rand and Matt went to investigate, Matt got too close and was exposed to the pollen, therefore, got infected. The beast demon would shut off his nervous system over time and made Matt unaware of things before completely taking over and transforming him into a monstrous demon that acts like a zombie. Matt would be in a comatose state while the Beast demon was using his body and did whatever it wanted and fed off negative energy. Shadowlands isn't a big marvel event, it just lasted for a short time with only the Heroes for Hire involved and after the exorcism (here's the art showcasing that), Matt was left in a distraught state where he wanted to rebuild himself and clear his head since all he could remember was strangling Foggy (comic here). It made him feel not only horrible and guilty, but he also felt like a burden bc Foggy was juggling between running the law firm and visiting Matt to help him recover. During this, Matt wanted to go back to San Francisco to try to regain his footing again and Foggy decided to let him do so thinking it might help him. It would be this version of the Daredevil Reborn arc (or at least, takes place after it).

And that's where Stunt Master comes in.

For those that don't know who Stunt Master is, George Smith was one of the early villains in Matt's rogues gallery dating all the way back to volume 1. He's a classic vol 1 type villain that wants nothing but fame and fortune, along with getting in Matt's way. His dynamic with Matt during that time was standard antagonist interaction but they also held a playful banter along with some really strong trust bonds and some homoerotic dialogue as per usual.

However, during the Death's Head arc, George has a change of heart after being forced to kidnap Karen Page and wanted to be good. He lead Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze) and Matt to Death's Head and the three of them stopped him. After this interaction, George was no longer considered a villain and even becomes friends with Johnny during the older runs (which he originally met up with Ghost Rider bc he wanted to make up to Matt for his kindness).

George doesn't show up that much again but going back to where Matt is going through it post demonic possession: the two of them meet up. Matt tells him his identity as Daredevil and what happened during their catching up, and George tries to help him out by going on stunt rides to help get Matt's mind off of things. Since Matt had felt like a burden before, for George to treat him as if nothing changed, it made Matt feel better in some weird way. That was how Matt fell madly in love with George. All those wild stunts and running around as vigilantes, plus Matt being in a vulnerable mental state, it all added up for Matt to quickly attach himself to George and would do anything for him.

Matt and George began dating and Matt adopted some of George's cowboy aesthetics into his costume.

At first, they were doing a few good things here and there trying to do the right thing. But George has always wanted fame and fortune, so that fame got to his head and he started to fall back to his old criminal ways. Unfortunately, because Matt was so down bad and lovesick, he went along with it without acknowledging the repercussions. Matt returned to NYC to reunite with Foggy, but after Foggy learned about what George was doing, he wasn't a fan of this relationship (literally the smartest mf here and yes, Foggy was PISSED OFF rightfully so). Matt was getting worse and worse over the few months, and he eventually ditched the law firm and left Foggy to deal with work by himself while he and George went on a road trip to Las Vegas where they eventually got married there. Matt fully adopted the cowboy aesthetic and had a criminal cowboy daredevil suit made for him as both a wedding suit and a vigilante costume.

The two idiots kept causing a shit ton of crime including vandalism and theft, specifically robbing trains. Some of those crimes eventually caught Johnny Blaze's attention, making him surprised that his good ol' friend George was going back to being a criminal again. When Johnny confronted them, George rambled about wanting fame again and that any attention is good attention no matter what. Matt had even convinced George that Johnny's disapproval shouldn't mean anything to him, to which made Johnny believe that Matt was enabling him (here's the full comic that I drew here).

(It's also a little secret addition to this little exchange where Johnny expresses how he feels about Daredevil when asked:

Doesn't wanna say anything about the whole cowboy phase so he says this instead lol. But that's just me).

The three of them started beef with each other so whenever Ghost Rider was involved, it was a whole shit show.

(Full post of this image here)

Matt and Johnny fought the most while George would either watch from afar and root for Matt or continue with whatever scheme they were up to. Along with all of this happening, post marriage was starting to make Matt slowly wake up from his lovesick phase and he was realizing that George was not a good partner after all. The two would get into petty arguments while also doing some headass shit to spite the other. George was insensitive to Matt's feelings while Matt would constantly ignore George whenever he tried talking to him. Not only that, George was so bad at sex that Matt completely lost his sex drive. These two were not a good couple and over the year, Matt was slowly figuring that out.

George has done shit from putting the motorcycle in the bed, only caring about The Mets and watching their games during sex, played the worst disco songs Matt has ever heard, and he was overall just a shitty partner. The two of them eventually fell out of love and barely tolerated each other, whether it was during domestic moments or during their crime schemes.

At one point during a fight, Ghost Rider ruined the veil on Matt's suit along with using a heated chain on him and burned a section of Matt's left bicep. After that fight, Matt realized that fighting Ghost Rider for George wasn't worth any risk and refused to fight Johnny no matter what George says. George went after Ghost Rider by himself only to get absolutely smoked while his costume got tarnished in the process.

Matt later on went back to NYC to visit Foggy, and by visit, he basically showed up at Foggy's doorstep in the middle of the night during a rainstorm while still wearing the cowboy outfit.

Foggy was reluctant at first, but Matt admits being a stupid fucking idiot and apologizes for leaving Foggy to run the law firm by himself. After being let in, Matt begs Foggy to help him divorce George, and Foggy agrees to help him out just this once. Matt goes back to George to talk to him and after another argument, they both agree on getting a divorce since at this point they can't stand being around each other anymore.

After the divorce, Matt was finally improving on himself and then the events of vol 3 and 4 starts. During Matt's whole identity-being-revealed, whenever someone asks him about the whole cowboy Daredevil fiasco back in San Francisco, Matt made up the excuse that the cowboy Daredevil wasn't him but instead some random guy. A faker. An imposter, if you will.

George comes back during vol 4 in issues 11-12 where he decides to take the opportunity for more fame and fortune by orchestrating the entire Kid Stunt Master arc where he faked his own suicide and took drugs to make sure Matt couldn't tell he was lying. He also did this to spite Matt as well so there's that to add onto.

Since it's been a few years after interacting with each other and George (pretending to be) being desperate for his help, Matt decided to give him a chance and had truly believed that George had changed over the years. And Matt was genuinely sadden over his (fake) suicide.

Matt started reminiscing the good ol' days when they were friends and even the beginning days of their developing relationship. Of course, after finding out the truth of George orchestrating the entire thing, Matt quickly snuffed out those reminiscing feelings and went straight back to completely hating on George.

After that ordeal, he wants his ex husband to get hit by a truck. He wants nothing to do with George Smith whatsoever.

After Kirsten learned about the entire divorce, her, Matt, and Foggy decide to celebrate the divorce date as a fun little anniversary. A few years later, Johnny and Matt finally sit down and have a conversation about the whole criminal cowboy phase and after learning both perspectives, there was an understanding (comic I drew here). But despite learning the truth, Matt and Johnny still have some grievances between each other, they just learn to keep a distance and be respectful when necessary.

Which is why there's a hate triangle guide I made for the three in the first place lmao.

There you go, that's the entire lore for this crack hateship of mine. If I were an official Marvel writer, I would definitely use this to reveal Matt's bisexuality being canon. It would be the worst way to reveal a bi character but it would be so funny and so worth it.

Here's a playlist of it. If you have any cheesy, funny, or over the top dramatic bad break up songs lmk I'll add it to the list.

[pascalpanic]

Popping Pearls and Purple Skies (Din Djarin x f!reader)

Summary: While in your home system, Din takes you to your home planet for your favorite treat.

W/C: 3.6k

Warnings: food mention, Star Wars cursing lol, mentions of physical fighting, mentions of trauma

A/N: okay. this was inspired by me thinking Grogu would love popping boba bc he loved the frog lady’s eggs so much!! I hope I did it okay :) Siruus, reader’s home planet, is supposed to be a mishmash of cultures, none specifically, I just picked cool elements from a variety of cultures!

One of the delights you missed most from your home planet was, you discovered, practically unattainable on any other planet. You’d scoured far and wide, hoping maybe you’d cross paths with another Siruusian or an admirer of the culture, but found nothing. It was only on Siruus that you could find your favorite drink: a milky tea with popping pearls.

Din knows you miss your home. Late at night, in the hull of the ship, he’d confide that he missed his home planet too. He told you tales of growing up in Aq Vetina, the feather-light and velvety robes that he wore every day, the spicy foods his mother would cook- which later made him a great Mandalorian.

Did you know that the Mandos love spicy food, cyare? We have a whole vocabulary to describe the heat of a dish. It’s traditional. I was raised on it, and the comfort of a burning mouth was a universal sensation: one that reminded me of my real parents and my adoptive clan.

Rarely did the Mandalorian man let his guard down, but never had he completely done so like he has with you. From the moment he hired you to care for his little green son, he’d been entranced by your laughter, the smooth sound of your voice in the language you’d been raised speaking. He caught you teaching the kid some vocabulary, and he’d quiz him on it when you weren’t around. The kid couldn’t speak yet, but he could point and match words to images or objects, which he attributed entirely to you. You were the child’s primary caretaker and kindergarten teacher in one, and Din admired your care and commitment.

Something about you spoke to him, and over time he thinks he came to realize it was the fact that, though you’d never heard of The Way before meeting Din, you were the holistic ideal of a Mandalorian. You valued knowledge and valor, and though you didn’t work in the traditional Mando fields of bounty hunting or working as a warrior, you embodied another aspect: that care for children.

Watching you with the kid was what made him realize he was in love with you. He’d told you everything. When you looked over your shoulder and laughed, the baby watching you too, the gaze was a love Din has never felt but immediately recognized. It hit him and his whole body shuddered, harder than it had when the Maldo Kreis cold had seeped into his bones, even through the beskar. At the same time, he felt too warm in his own skin, like the fever he’d had as a toddler that threatened his life- he’d told you that story too.  Dank Farrik. This was not in the plan.

You had told Din all about your home planet too. You told him of the bright flowers that bloomed in the cold of winter, that released a pollen that made the birds in the area start laying their eggs. He listened intently every time, clinging to every word he told you like he’d never hear that beautiful voice again. He’d hear you singing Siruusian lullabies to the baby, and on nights you missed home.

He’d offered to take you back many times. Any time you were near, there was a standing offer to pop in for a visit. But you’ve always declined; the child and Mando would bring too much attention to your quiet little planet, you explained. That was only partially true, so you didn’t feel as bad lying by omission to Din. You’d neglected to mention, every time, that this was your life now, and more specifically that you never want to leave his side again.

Din really is something. You’d never even heard of Mandalorians before he swept you off your planet, never understood the intricate Creed and their strong beliefs. It didn’t matter to you, that you couldn’t see his face; at least at first. Of course you’d respect the slightly terrifying man’s customs.

But over time you’ve fallen for him, and that’s made everything just a little harder. The man seemingly made of steel was warm and gentle beneath it, with you and the child. He’d wrangle a bounty into the carbonite freezer then tenderly tuck a flower he found behind your ear, calling you sweet names in Mando’a that you didn’t understand. The juxtaposition of the man’s very being- covered in impenetrable, freezing metal to hide an ooey-gooey center like that of a warm pastry- was exciting and beautiful to you.

How could you not fall in love? The three of you became a little family, even as you joined Din on the quest of returning your little green son to his people. You’d treated the baby as your own son, the way Din did too. You’d tried to shepherd him away from the Frog woman’s eggs, only to find him munching on them moments later, scolded him with love and promptly hidden the container.

That day made you miss home even more. The eggs reminded you of the popping pearls you loved so much- no wonder the kid loved them. You’d never eat the Frog’s eggs, of course, but you’d sung the baby to sleep that night in the hull of the ship, another lullaby from your youth. Maybe next time you’d take Din’s offer to visit home seriously. Maybe. There was still another reason you didn’t want to return: if you came home, you weren’t sure you could leave again.

Now you’re in hyperspace, nestled into the small bunk, your child snoozing softly above you with gentle grunts and snorts of sleep. Din is up in the cockpit and you can’t sleep. You wonder if he’s awake too. Maybe you’ll go check.

Sliding on warm slippers to pad your bare feet from the cold metal of the floor, you climb the ladder to the cockpit and see Din sitting in the captain’s chair. You’re unsure if he’s awake or not; it’s hard to tell through the beskar. His shoulders shift a little as he hears you moving and you can tell he’s awake. “Hi. Couldn’t sleep,” you admit as you assume your regular position. The chairs move with the pull of a lever, and you scoot yours closer to Din and prop your feet on his arm rest.

Din nods, resting against the chair. “Me neither. The kid?”

“Asleep,” you confirm and nod, slumping down in your seat.

It’s nice and quiet between the two of you, a relaxed silence as the stars fly past and the Crest hums its low rumble of engines and filters. Just being in his presence soothes you more than being alone in that coffin of a bunk. If you think this is calming, you ponder, just his presence, imagine his arms around you while you sleep. Imagine his warm skin beneath the beskar surrounding you and radiating heat.

He’s thinking the same thing. You look impossibly soft and warm. Your plush skin prickles with the cold of the cockpit and Din wants to put an ungloved hand over it and let the heat of his flushed body sink into yours. He doesn’t. He just stares off at the stars. “We’re approaching your home system,” he murmurs softly. “Would you like to visit?”

Well damn. You hadn’t expected to be confronted with the question so soon, and you’re not quite sure how to answer. “I don’t know.”

It’s quiet again. Din’s silence invites you to speak your inner monologue, to throw your tangled thoughts into the open so he can help unknot them with his nimble mind. In response to his lack of words, which say as much as any sentence, you respond. “I haven’t been there in so long. I don’t know if I want to go back. I like my life now, and I’m scared I’ll want to stay if we visit.”

Din nods as you speak, processing the meanings of your words. “Well,” he begins, “what if I rephrase it like this: would you like us to visit?”

Us. What the kriff does that entail? The three of you, your little family, perhaps? You and Din as friends, as coworkers? Or as something more… your mind spins and you can’t make sense of it, so you give it up. “What does that mean?”

Din turns his chair to face you, moving your legs to drape across his lap. Even through the gloves, he holds back a shiver as he rests his hands atop your shins. “We’ll go, all three of us. If you like your life now, we’ll be your reminders of it.”

Your mouth curves into a warm smile, your body feeling soft and fuzzy all over. “How kind.”

“I’ll even buy you that tea you ramble about,” he offers.

Gasping in excitement, you clap your hands together. “Will you try it? Oh, Din, you’ll love it, it’s the most delicious thing in the galaxy.”

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckles through the modulator, a sound you wish you could hear without the mechanical suppressor.

Popping up, you kiss the top of his beskar-clad head in excitement before you can stop yourself. “Thank you, Din.”

“Anything for you, cyare,” he says with a certain warmth to his voice, a large hand finding your waist. “Go get some rest, lie down. We’ll be there in about half a day.”

“Only if you rest too,” you tell him and your hand rests over his. It’s the most he’s ever touched you purposefully, and now all you want is for him to slide that hand back until he’s wrapping you in his muscular arms. Din nods and you pat his forearm. “Sweet dreams.”

-

The ramp comes down and your mouth forms a soft ring in excitement. It’s a beautiful day, the nearest sun making the atmosphere the beautiful purple you grew up under. The oranges and yellows of the architecture surround you, and you instinctively clutch the Mandalorian’s hand. “Welcome to my home,” you tell him with a grin and lead him down.

Your little green child is strapped to your chest in a baby carrier, a birikad in Mando’a, and he looks around in wonder, squealing excitedly. As you walk through the streets of the small city, vendors call in Siruusian, a language Din is slowly learning from you. He thinks he recognizes a few words here or there.

Venturing to the side, a stall sells small animals made of a gorgeously embroidered fabric. You had many of these as a child; your favorite was a blue and silver bantha, an exotic animal you’d never seen before your adventures with Din. The child coos at the menagerie in front of him and you squat so he can look at them.

“Toata,” you coo in Siruusian, a word to mean little one, “can you pick the frog?”

That’s one of the words you worked on with him. A tiny, green, three-fingered hand grabs a gorgeous yellowy-brown frog and holds it up in triumph. “Good job, cutie! Aren’t you a smart little thing?” you grin and kiss his forehead. “Is that the one you want?”

Din watches from a few meters back, grinning beneath the helmet. When the child nods excitedly and squeals, he almost laughs softly at the beautiful sight. You pay for the frog and Din meanders over, the baby already chewing on a long leg of the plush.

He wants to see you like that for the rest of his life: glowing with excitement, the little kid strapped to your chest, absolutely at ease and relaxed in the place you used to call home. “You want one too?” you ask.

He shakes his head at first, but after a little haggling, Din purchases himself a copper and yellow blurrg and a mudhorn made of silver for you. The symbolism of the mudhorn, of Clan Djarin, is not lost on you. It makes your heart flit nervously around your ribcage as you wander through the market, making your little mudhorn and the baby’s frog pretend to fight. As always, the littlest member of Clan Djarin triumphs over the mighty mudhorn.

An aromatic smell wafts through the air and your face lights up to see a stand selling your favorite beverage. Din spots it too and makes his way over, getting in the line, his hand holding yours once again. This time, he initiated it. You like that. It makes you giggle and squeeze his fingers softly.

“What do you usually order?” he asks you.

You frown and scan the menu. You explain your drink to him, an orange-colored, sweet and herbal milk tea with your favorite citrusy popping pearls in the bottom. He asks what you think he’d like and you pick a drink for him: a blue, warmly-spiced milk tea with the same pearls. “It’s not the proper drink without it,” you explain.

Picking the baby from his carrier to face you, you ask him questions by the process of elimination. “Okay, toata, do you like… mushfruit?” He makes a noise of disproval. You knew he hated that one; you wanted to ensure he was listening. “No? How about…” you pretend to ponder it. “How about panga?”

The baby squeals in excitement. The green fruit has always been his favorite when you and Din require him to eat his fruit. “Wonderful, and a panga milk tea with you. Do you remember froggie’s eggs?” You ask him, pointing to the frog toy he holds. He tilts his head in confusion.

“The snackies I said no?” That clue does it. He nods, cooing and giggling. “These taste like those! You’ll love it.”

The rest of the time in the line is quiet, shuffling forward slowly to reach the stand. “Is it what you’d hoped?” Din asks after a while.

You nod and smile. “As soon as I get my tea, it will be.”

“And you… you don’t want to stay?”

“Nope,” you agree, popping the p with your lips.

He doesn’t know quite what to say. He’s not the wordsmith you are. “Well. I’m glad. I, uh. I’d miss you if you left.”

The words are simple but they warm your heart. “I’d miss the two of you far too much to leave,” you assure him. “For different reasons, respectively.”

Your flirtation is more than mild, but it hangs in Din’s mouth like a spicy Mandalorian food. He knows what you imply, and the thought that you could feel the same practically sends him into orbit, above Siruus’s atmosphere and next to one of its 4 moons. He can’t respond. He just tightens his grip on your hand.

Once you’ve acquired the drinks, Din holding his and the child’s, the three of you make your way back to the Razor Crest so Din can enjoy the drink too. Walking up the ramp, you sigh as the air-controlled atmosphere warms your slightly-chilled skin from being outside for so long in the Siruusian spring.

You unpack the kid from his carrier, and grin as he toddles to his father, making grabby hands for his green drink. “Oh my, toata,” you tease. “Your drink is the same color as you!”

Din laughs softly, and sets the drink on the floor for him. The baby tries to hold it and walk but the cup is too tall to move with his tiny body. You lift it for him and move it so he can sit in a circle with you and Din, cross-legged on the floor.

The baby plops down in front of his drink then realizes it’s too tall for him to sip from the thick straw while seated. The baby makes a little whine of frustration and you scoop up the kid, putting him in your lap. You hold the cup for him, and his two tiny hands grab the straw to drink from. The baby squeaks as he pops a pearl in his mouth. It’s just like the froggy eggs, and he couldn’t be more excited.

Your free hand holds your drink, and you close your eyes in happiness when the first sip of your tea reaches your tongue. You make a content little moan at the flavor, then open your eyes to see the child vigorously slurping up the drink. “Woah, little man. Slow down.”

Din just watches the two of you, smiling to himself. When your eyes return to him, he lifts his drink. “I’m not really supposed to do this,” he admits as he grabs the edge of his helmet. Both you and the child watch in bewilderment as he lifts his helmet just enough to expose the bottom of his nose, his lips and chin.

You’d never really processed that Din would be… well, so human. The strip of his face, exposed, reveals warm skin, dark stubble, and lips that look ridiculously soft. It’s a sight to see, a Mandalorian cross-legged on the floor and sipping tea with popping pearls. It makes you grin, and both you and the baby lean in closer to try and look under the helmet further.

“That’s as much as you get,” Din teases as he lowers the helmet, once more covering his entire face.

You frown, but the excitement of Din trying your favorite treat overwhelms it for now. “What do you think?” You ask.

Din tilts his head and does exactly that: thinks. “It’s very good,” he nods as he looks at the child, nearly halfway done with his green milk-tea. “I really like it. That’s delicious.”

“Yay,” you smile and sip your own drink again, sighing. The three of you continue like that for a while, sitting together and drinking your tea. Every time he lifts his helmet, you consider those plush lips, the scruff coating his defined jaw and chin. When his tea is gone, you frown to realize the moment of intimacy, of seeing just a little of his face, is over.

The kid is tuckered out from his day. You put the baby to bed in his hammock over the bunk, kissing him goodnight and singing him a lullaby as you rock the knit cradle. He falls asleep quickly,  tummy full of a delicious treat very similar to his favorite snack. While you put the child to bed, Din pilots you safely out of the sky harbor and away from Siruus, out of the purple-tinted sky and back into the darkness of space followed by hyperdrive.

You climb up to the cockpit, entering and standing behind Din’s captain chair. “I had a wonderful time today. Thank you.” You put your hands on his pauldron-covered shoulders.

“Thank you,” he insists. “I’d never go there for any other reason. The drink was wonderful and the kid absolutely loved everything about it.” “Maybe we’ll have to vacation there sometime,” you chuckle, spotting Din’s little toy blurrg peeking out from a pocket on his utility belt.

Din turns and stands from his chair, looking at you through that black t-visor. You’re not sure why he does it; in all honesty, he isn’t either. You stare into the helmet, where you suspect and hope his eyes are. “You’re very handsome under there,” you tell him, putting a hand on the divot of his helmet, where the beskar caves inward over his cheeks.

“I’m nothing special,” he shakes his head, a hand covering yours. “Nowhere as special or as beautiful as you.”

Heat rises in your skin, blood flowing closer to the surface. “That’s not true, Din.”

“It is. You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve seen in the galaxy,” he murmurs, his other hand cupping your cheek through leather gloves.

“Well, thank you,” you laugh softly, almost nervously, “but I meant you’re very special. I haven’t even seen all of your face and I know you’re absolutely gorgeous beneath that helmet.” You pause, tracing the curves of the beskar. “What color eyes do you have? I want to finish the mental picture.”

“Brown,” Din breathes out, barely able to control himself with you this close.

“Din?”

“Mesh’la.”

“Can… can you do what you did with your helmet to drink the tea?”

He lifts it just enough, just exposing those goddamn taunting lips and the scruffy jaw. “Like this?”

“Exactly,” you exhale before cupping his soft jaw, feeling the stubble beneath your palms as you press your lips to his. Those lips are a little dry but warm and strong, just like you’d assume the rest of him is. He puts a hand on your waist and pulls you in close, kissing you back deeply.

The beskar right above his lips makes it more difficult but not impossible. He lifts the helmet a little higher so he can tilt his head to the side, can kiss you with the energy and passion you’re putting into it. Mentally, he adds this to his lists of favorite tastes: spicy Mandalorian cuisine, your favorite tea with popping pearls, and you.

It lasts a while before you break away and Din lowers his helmet all the way once more. You breathe heavily from the fervor of the kiss, lips swollen and damp. Maker, he wishes this visor had a photo capability to take a picture of the way you look. “Come rest with me. Please, Din.”

Din can’t say no to that. He retreats downstairs with you, strips himself of the beskar save for the helmet, and snuggles into your side. Your wish comes true then and there, when you learn that he’s as good of a cuddler as you’d hoped. “Goodnight, Din. Thank you,” you murmur.

“Goodnight, mesh’la. Thank you more.”

The baby above you gives a little snort in his sleep. That’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep in his arms.

-

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[bl--ankhaeji]

Fluff with some kinda angst w/ xuxi please. Where the reader is sad bc she feels insecure of her weight and some flaws uwu

I wrote a little something else to go with this here

Someone else sent in a request similar to this one so I just combined them

Other Request Anon:  Hi 🙂 Can you do a xuxi x chubby reader? I'm really feeling ugly these days bc I keep getting fat. ☹️ I really love to eat tho.. but I need something comforting to read right now bc I feel insecure to other girls with a beautiful body. 🙂 It's okay tho if you don't want to. I will understand. Thanks a lot. 😚

I know this request took a while but I hope you like it sweets

P.S the ending is a little rushed because I ran out of time sorry

As you stood at the end of your driveway you watched the sculpted back of your used to be boyfriend walk away from you getting smaller the farther he walked. Tears raced quickly down your face, the more you wiped the more came in their place. Your knees gave out under you as you fell to the unwavering ground below, the grass only providing minimal comfort. 

“XUXI!” you screamed at the retreating back pretty soon you couldn’t see him any more and as realization sunk in a chorus of the word ‘no’ flowed out of your mouth getting louder each time. 

“NO!” you shot up out of bed, the blanket that was once wrapped around you falling to the floor as your chest rose and fell quickly. An impending panic attack was coming to the surface as you tried calming yourself. You had dreamt that your boyfriend Xuxi had left you after telling you that your weight was too much for him to handle. 

As the memory of the harsh words he spoke rang in your head you notice the current damp state of not your face. Once you had calmed yourself you took a look at your phone to see that you had two unread messages and a missed call from your boyfriend.   

Xuxi:

Good morning baby, I had to go to the company for practice and we have an interview later so I might be home a little late. 

Also I bought you your favorite breakfast and left it in the microwave so when you wake up just heat it up and give me a ft ok I want to hear your voice and see your beautiful face. 

Stepping out of your shared bedroom you make your way to the kitchen. The ding from the microwave rings throughout the room taking the food out of the device you make your way to the living room and turn on the tv. 

You do as asked and call Xuxi to which he picks up on the second ring. “Hey baby.” His deep voice sounds through the phone automatically bringing a smile to your face, “Hey” you responded. When he asks why you didn’t facetime your mind immediately went to the dream and then you thought about how you look right now. You give him some half assed lie about your battery in hopes that he wouldn’t ask anymore about it. At the same time you look at the food set in front of you and instantly lose your appetite. 

You stay on the phone with Xuxi until he has to go. Getting up off of the couch your body feels especially heavy and the dream pops up again. It’s as if your mind is trying to warn you that this is your future if you don’t do something, and looking at the food again you start to feel sick to your stomach. 

You throw the food away and go to take a shower hoping that it’ll somehow wash away your insecurities. Walking into the bathroom you turn on the water and begin to strip and as your luck has it you accidentally catch yourself in the mirror and it’s as if you get caught in a trance. YOu have no choice but to look at yourself, your naked body. The lighting in the room is bright and does not care about accentuating all aspects of your flawed body. The raw disgust you feel increases as your eyes dart all over yourself spotting any and everything wrong.  

Your hand unconsciously lifts to the rolls at your sides accompanied by the plethora of stretch marks on your arms and your thighs and your stomach and your ass. It’s as if they never end. Every slight form of movement causes at least one part of your body to jiggle unattractively. You look at your face and the slight double chin under it. 

The steam from the shower layers the bathroom, the condensation covering the mirror keeping you from seeing yourself clearly. Snapping out of it you realize that you’ve had the water running for a very long time, while in the shower you think of Xuxi and how he wouldn’t want you to think of yourself this way. You think about the feeling of his hands caressing your body with so much love and care. 

Stepping out of the shower you feel a little better about yourself. You make your way into the room so that you can pick out some clothes to wear. “Maybe if I dress up i’ll feel even better about myself.” Preparing the clothes in your mind you have an image for a bomb ass outfit.

You put on the clothes and go look in the mirror to see something completely different then what you had imagined. The person you saw was not who you imagined. Your eyes zoned in on your torso and how it pushed against the shirt and the word frumpy popped up in your head. You felt as if you were the before picture on a makeover show. It was all wrong how could- 

‘You know how. Why would anything look good on you.’ a voice in the back of your head told you. Instant depression washed over you. Suddenly the dream came to again and it almost brought tears to your eyes. The ringing of your phone cleared your thoughts but only temporarily. 

It was Xuxi, he was facetiming you. You couldn’t let him see you like this, so you didn’t answer it.  You messaged him telling him you were busy and couldn’t answer. But the reminder that Xuxi is there calmed you once again and you just took the clothes off making the decision to not think about it anymore and you threw on some sweats and one of Xuxi’s oversized shirts.

Laying in bed you go through your phone looking for something to occupy you and your mind, but nothing can keep your attention and the self demeaning thoughts start to creep back in. And not to mention your head is starting to hurt. “Maybe after a nap things will be better.” You say to yourself as you close your eyes and go to sleep. 

You wake up in a cold sweat with a throat as dry as the sahara. Getting up out of bed the room starts to spin forcing you to have to steady yourself. Making your way to the kitchen you hear the door open revealing your tall boyfriend. “Hey baby how was your day?” Xuxi asks as he walks up to you after he drops his backpack on the floor, giving you a kiss on your cheek. 

“Hey bubs.” you say avoiding the rest of the question as you put the glass up to your lips and take a drink of water. When Xuxi wraps his hands around your waist lifting you and spinning you lightly. The headache that never left intensifies to the point where you feel as if you are going to faint. “XUXI put me down!” once your feet touch the floor your legs give out you hear a loud “Woah!” and you feel his arms around you once again steadying you. 

He cradles your face in his large hands, forcing you to look at him, “Baby are you ok? You’ve been acting a little off all day. I wasn’t going to say anything because it didn’t seem too serious but now I’m worried.”  

“I’m fin-” your body folds in on itself once again and Xuxi drags you to your room sitting you on the bed where he looks at you with a face that says ‘Lie again’. You avoid his eyes, not wanting him to know that you have been feeling bad about yourself all day. He walks back to the kitchen to get you more water when he walks by the garbage can and sees the food he left you earlier this morning in the trash. 

“Why was this in the trash? Have you starved yourself all day??!!” he asks once he makes it back to the room, holding the back of old food up next to his face. Your silence is enough answer for him and he walks out of the room to quickly order food. Sitting on the bed in front of you he looks at you with possibly the most serious expression you’ve ever seen on him. 

“Why?” is all he says as he waits for you to explain why you would possibly want to harm yourself like this. After explaining through unshed tears to him what you went through today he takes you into his arms, his sturdy chest unyielding as cries wrack your body. “Babygirl I don’t want you to ever do this to yourself again ok? Promise me.” He holds out his pinky finger. 

“I want to know that I will never in my life do that to you. I love you for everything you are. I love how soft and cuddly you are, I love how you fill out your clothes, I love how you look. But not only that I love you, for exactly who you are no matter what you look like.” he tells you looking into your eyes, “ I don’t want you to lose weight, that’s not what this is about. It’s about being healthy and starving yourself is not how you do it. I will support you wholeheartedly if you say you want to get healthy but being healthy is NOT about being a certain weight. Do you understand me?” 

As if it was pre-planned the food he ordered had just made it and as Xuxi went to go get it so you could finally eat something it left you with your thoughts. Dream be damned, insecurities be damned, you do want to get healthy not lose weight. You shouldn’t be forced to feel a certain way about yourself just because of some numbers on a scale or just because you don’t look like mainstream females. 

And as Xuxi sat in front of you feeding you the food he bought the only thing on your mind was, “Damn I love this man.”        

[nandoor]

guillermo & why he wants to be a vampire (aka a long rambling meta post): 

tw for mention of suicide/suicidal ideation 

i’ve got 3 ideas rolling around in my head but tbh i think aspects of all 3 ideas are valid/plausible given what we know of guillermo so far

1) unhappiness as a human: 

it’s very clear that guillermo did not have the easiest childhood. he makes numerous references to being bullied growing up & even his mannerisms, the way he dresses, & his way of speaking suggest years of verbal & physical abuse for being who he is. 

whether vampirism will actually make him happier (which, honestly, it might--i mean he has devoted over a decade of his life at this point so guillermo is, at the very least, convinced this is 100% what he wants) is debatable, but it would be a considerably different life for him & that may be enough. 

i think it’s fair to say that up until finding out vampires were real and that he could potentially become a vampire if he acted as a vampire’s familiar, guillermo was likely depressed & unhappy with life. frankly, i can’t imagine a human wanting to be a vampire unless they were terribly bored or upset w/ their current lot in life. 

2) vampirism as a metaphor and/or substitute for suicide--aka does guillermo actually want to be a vampire?: 

this ties in w/ option #1 but the difference here is that guillermo seeking out a vampire to turn him was, ultimately, a substitute for suicide. 

suicidal ideation isn’t always big, grand dangerous gestures. maybe you don’t wear a seatbelt on purpose when driving or you don’t pay attention when crossing the street in heavy traffic or you encourage/build bad habits (i.e., excessive drinking, smoking, drug abuse, and/or other unsafe practices). & purposefully searching for vampires seems like a wwdits universe equivalent at the very least given the inherent danger involved. 

in this way, you can see guillermo’s desire to be a vampire less of an ambition & more of a desperate attempt for something that will make him happy--or, specifically, a way to regain control of a life he no longer feels is worth living. furthermore, even the act of being a familiar is dangerous & almost an admission of a death wish--guillermo had seen countless of familiars employed to nadja & laszlo die, but he never stopped being nandor’s familiar despite facing death on numerous occasions. 

at the end of the day, in the wwdits universe, becoming a vampire requires you to die. if you want to become a vampire, you are embracing the idea of dying. your heart stops. your brain ceases to function. your soul leaves your body and the ghost of your human self drifts off into the land of the dead. & when you wake as a vampire, you will have more in common with a corpse than with a living, breathing human. you subsist on the literal lifeblood of others much like a ghost might need an object to haunt/possess to remain in the living world. 

take for instance laszlo--some of his dialogue reveals that he was quite unhappy as a human & also was likely destined to die sometime soon (from the plague). once nadja turns him into a vampire, however, he is unbelievably happy. he loves & cares for nadja deeply--he feels no resentment towards her for his turning even if it wasn’t necessarily consensual at the time. &, unlike nandor & nadja, who seemingly wax poetic about their ‘human’ days (most likely bc they were both turned against their will/were not actually unhappy w/ their human lives), laszlo seems to care very little about talking about his human life. his real ‘life’ began the moment he met nadja, plain & simple. 

which brings us back to guillermo. if being a vampire hunter can give him the autonomy, power, and community he craved in his original pursuit to become a vampire, than i honestly don’t think guillermo will want to be a vampire anymore. because it wasn’t about being a vampire--it was about finding something to live for. of course i personally think that we don’t need to find something to live for--rather, we should learn to just live for ourselves if possible but i digress.

3) the happiest option: he genuinely loves vampires/vampire culture (?): 

not much to say here other than guillermo is in it for the #aesthetic. or, rather, he was in it for the aesthetic at first but i doubt something as vapid as simply enjoying the /idea/ of vampires would keep anyone in the role of familiar for over 10 yrs. he also probably clung to the idea that being a vampire would fix all his ‘human’ problems, make his lifelong self-esteem issues & desire for community disappear if he was able to successfully integrate himself in a group that would accept him for who he was, eccentricities and all. he wants to be his 100% authentic self & vampires are a group that will pretty much welcome anyone into their fold (ex: we’ve got jenna, who parallels guillermo pretty well, & was accepted by nadja & eventually laszlo w/ open arms as she was. like nadja didn’t make her change or doll her up or anything like that--jenna is still the same jenna from before she grew fangs... just w/ a severe sun allergy & a strictly liquid diet lmao) 

+ bonus crack idea: guillermo’s obsession w/ vamps is actually a byproduct of his van helsing heritage. i love the idea that his wires got super crossed thanks to watching iwtv/reading anne rice novels as a kid & instead of feeling disgust or hatred for vamps, he falls head over heels w/ them as a metaphor for the ‘otherness’ that he felt growing up (assumedly as a gay POC in a strict catholic household). 

like just imagine abraham van helsing’s ghost rolling in his grave over the fact that one of his strongest descendants is actually hopelessly in love with a vampire a vampire’s familiar. 

van helsing: ok so this is all a plot to kill the vampires once you’ve gained their trust, yes? 

van helsing 10+ yrs later: ...you’ve got to be kidding me :/

[swlbarnes]

Soul - Jack Kline x Reader

Summary: Castiel always insists that it is impossible for humans to perceive the physical form of a soul. After spending time with Jack, you swear Cas is wrong.

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader, Father figure!Castiel x Reader

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: canon typical violence, light torture, some slight angst, fluff, danger to reader, danger to characters, blood, fatherly castiel (is that a warning? idk), basically there’s some good stuff and some bad stuff, but overall it’s fluff! slight canon divergence, vague early season 14 spoiler, but the main Jack plot in season 14 doesn’t apply here

A/N: I had this idea like FOREVER ago bc of that shot of jack asleep in the back of the impala (gif below), and i just got around to writing it bc school is garbage (pls stay in school). Hope it’s alright! Feedback is always greatly appreciated!

gif creator here, give them love!

Soul /sōl/ noun - the immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life.

You often found yourself asking Castiel the most random of questions about the universe. What was the beginning of the world like? What did the Bible completely get wrong? How have things changed over time in Heaven? Who thought the platypus was a good idea?

Most of all, though, your questions seemed to focus on one thing: souls. You were absolutely enamored by the subject. Something about them felt so incredibly intriguing, and after having seen the change in Sam Winchester when he happened to lose his soul, you wanted all the information you could get. Having an angel friend to answer your questions was exactly what you needed.

“Cas,” you spoke his name softly, intent on not destroying the peacefully quiet nature of the bunker’s library at 4 o’clock in the morning. The pair of you were up researching for a hunt after you found yourself unable to fall asleep. You insisted that instead of having Cas use his grace to help you sleep, that you could use your time to get some work done. The seraph reluctantly agreed.

“Yes?” He hummed in acknowledgement. His eyes lifted from his book in front of him just slightly to meet your gaze.

“What does a soul look like?”

Castiel let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back in his seat and pushing the book away just enough to show that you had his attention. A small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth at the question. This was far from your first time asking it. You questioned him relentlessly about every topic you could think of, but no matter what, you always came back around to the same question. What does a soul really look like?

And every time he gave the same answer: “They look like light.”

Sometimes you took this at face value, just glad to hear him say it again, but sometimes, like this particular night, you needed to hear more. You gave him a nod of encouragement, urging him to continue speaking. He took in a breath and cast his eyes over the room momentarily. His hands clasped together in his lap, and the small, relaxed smile remained on his face. He loved answering your questions and you could tell. There was always a childlike excitement to you when he would offer you a new piece of information. You would take his words and hold them close to you, eager to commit them to memory. You knew secrets of the universe that other people could never even dream of knowing. It felt nice to take you under his literal and metaphorical wing to teach you the things you wanted to know.

“Souls tend to shine differently depending on the person. You can tell so much about someone based on their soul alone. This is why demons are so easy to spot: their souls are so twisted that they become something so much different than the purity of a human soul,” he elaborated, his eyes trailing over the swirls of the wood grain on the table top.

You leaned forward slightly. “But surely not all human souls are so… pure,” you pointed out. He nodded.

“You’re correct. Many human souls find themselves being twisted in their life on earth as well, but never to the extent of a demon’s, of course.”

“But demons manifest themselves as black smoke. So, does that mean that the purity of a soul is based on how bright it is?” You continued to pester. You trailed your nails along the edge of the table subconsciously.

Castiel shook his head side to side. “No, not at all. It’s less of it being one rule for all and more of just a… feeling. Much like you are often able to tell the intentions of a fellow human with a glance, souls are much the same. Some souls are dim, but that does not mean that they aren’t beautifully pure,” he informed you. His voice remained level and patient, as it always did when you started a line of questions. You smiled at his tone. You were always grateful for the care he took in these situations. He never made you feel bad for your questions or your lack of knowledge, something you wished that your old school teachers had taken lessons in.

Your gaze travelled down to the pages of the lore book still open in front of you. The old weathered paper was yellowed and tattered with time. The top right corner of the page you were on was creased from someone who knows how long ago that dog-eared their spot in the text. You fought the urge to grimace at the foul treatment given to the book and focused instead on posing your next question. “What does… my soul look like?”

This was another familiar question, but still, Cas humored you. He trailed his eyes over your face with a thoughtful expression before he opened his mouth to reply. “Your soul is… complex. It shines bright, and has a slight, dare I say, twinkle to it. Like a star.” He paused to cast you a proud, fatherly smile. “You’re the team’s North Star, forever helping to guide us home.”

You cast your eyes downward, hoping the way your hair came down around your face was enough to hide your reddened cheeks and meek smile. You reached a hand up to trail a finger along the edges of your book. The worn leather of the binding was soft beneath your fingertips, and the scent of old pages wafted around you like a blanket in the serenity of the library. “I wish I could see souls,” you commented in passing, your voice heavy with exhaustion.

Cas was quick to recognize the wobble of your form and the half closed position of your heavy eyelids. He stood from his seat and made his way around the table, placing a hand on your shoulder and coaxing you upright. “Humans can’t see souls, and I promise that if there was a way for you to do so, you would be the first person I would tell.” With that, he led you down the maze-like halls of the bunker and into your bed. He brought the covers up to your chin, giving a light chuckle as he heard your soft snores before he was even able to shut the door behind him.

-

A year or so had passed since that night. Things finally settled down, and for once you could feel at peace. The bunker now consisted of the two Winchester boys, your fallen angel mentor, an ex-trickster archangel, and the son of Lucifer himself. Things were… good. There was just one thing…

Castiel had lied to you.

He had told you that humans could not see souls. That humans were incapable of comprehending the visual aspects of a soul. And you swear to every higher power you know, he lied to you. He must have. It was the only explanation.

These thoughts paraded around your mind, your brain’s mess of emotions a swift contrast to the atmosphere of the Impala you were sat in the back seat therein. Your eyes fixated on the nephilim sat by your side. Jack’s body leaned limp against the car door, his hand placed with his palm against the window to act as a barrier between his cheek and the icy glass. The sun was setting just on the other side of his window. The sky was streaked with endless shades of pinks, yellows, and oranges, spreading out in wisps that curled lazily around the surrounding landscape. Your ears were filled with the soft guitar riff of Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin cassette. The scent surrounding you was that of old leather, whiskey, gun powder, and a swirling mixture of both Sam and Dean’s favorite colognes - in other words, it smelled like home.

You fixed your attention on Jack’s form. Your gaze swept over him, taking in every detail you possibly could. You noticed the way the tips of his fingers twitched in his dreaming state. You noticed the slight part of his lips as he let out soft, even breaths. You noticed each little freckle that dotted his skin. You noticed the way that his favorite red jacket was tugged up to tuck into his neck, as you knew he loved how the fluffy fabric felt comforting against his skin. You noticed it all.

Most of all, you noticed the way the light of the sunset behind him framed his form. The remaining rays trickled in through the car window, casting a gentle glow around his silhouette. The orange tendrils of light curled along his hair and tinted his dark brown curls a lighter, more fiery blonde color. The slant of his cheekbones was far more distinct in this lighting. The shadows of his face were dark and impressive, but somehow his features maintained his tender nature. In fact, you swore you could make out the shape of a halo at the crown of his hair. Everything about him and the way the sunset curved around him felt so celestial, so strong. Yet still he retained an air of care and love about him. He just looked so… Jack. And it was incredible.

-

“What do you mean you’re scared of the dark?” Dean asked in a teasing tone. An annoyed scowl formed in your lips and your arms wound around your own torso as you sought out as much comfort as you could get.

“Oh, shove it Winchester. We’re all scared of something. You wouldn’t be so cocky if we were in an airplane right now,” you shot back. You tried your best to hide the shake in the back of your throat, but you knew by the eldest brother’s deep chuckle that you hadn’t done as well as you had hoped.

“That’s because a plane crash will kill ya, and you just have to go down without a fight. Seriously, you’re a hunter, how are you afraid of the dark?”

You shuffled around from your place in one of the plush couches of the library. The darkness surrounding you curled its claws around your neck and began to squeeze, but you just shook your head in an attempt to fight it off. “I know what’s in the dark. I think we have more reason to hate the dark than anyone else does,” you insisted. You could practically see the stupid smirk on his face, and you wanted nothing more than to punch it right off.

Your knees tugged themselves up against your chest so you could wind your arms around them. Gazing into the endless darkness was unsettling no matter what, but to make things worse, you didn’t know what was really in the bunker. The last time something got out, the Wicked Witch tried to destroy Oz, and you weren’t too keen on fighting both your fear of the dark and another old fairy tale on the same day. Nope. Definitely not. You were much more comfortable sitting right where you were on the couch with your back pressed against the wall and your feet up off the ground so nothing could grab you from somewhere in the emptiness.

The sounds of shuffling coming from the winding corridors caused you to jump in fright. “Wh-who’s there?” You stuttered out, turning your head from one side to the other as if you could see who - or what - was making their way over to you.

Around the corner, the flame of a lit candle made itself visible, the light it emitted casting a soft golden glow over the surrounding few feet. “Dean? (Y/N)?” The soft, familiar voice of the nephilim called as he rounded the corner, candle in hand. Your heart jumped at the sight.

“Jack!” You cried out gratefully. You instantly flung yourself off of the couch, the balls of your feet barely hitting the floor with each step before you leaped forward again, all the way up until you made it to the man. You ducked underneath the candle and wrapped your arms around his waist, tugging him close to you in search of comfort.

The air in his lungs was exhaled with a huff upon impact. He raised the candle above his head to ensure the flame wouldn’t catch on your hair or clothing before he wrapped his free arm around your shoulders in a comforting - yet confused - manner. “Are you alright?” Jack asked with an edge of worry in his tone. You nodded against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Just… don’t like the dark. And Dean is mean to me.” Your accusation brought forth a cry of offense from Dean, which in turn caused you to chuckle into the material of Jack’s shirt, which you were still clinging to as if your life depended on it. Jack looked up to Dean in an ever-so-serious accusatory manner.

“Sam is working on getting the power back on still. He said he’s almost got it, but I should come check on you in case you were worried,” the nephilim explained, turning his gaze to you once again. You cast him a small smile and took a step back.

You coughed to clear your throat from the awkward silence that followed, much to Dean’s amusement. He indicated this with a rather unflattering snort that you would have demolished him for in other circumstances. Instead of tearing into the older hunter, you peered upwards at the man in front of you. “Well, thank you for coming to make sure we were alright. I don’t know how much more of Dean’s teasing I can take, especially when it’s too dark for me to even take a swing at him.”

A smile bloomed on Jack’s lips, and your expression brightened to match. He lowered the candle again, now that you were a safe distance away. You instantly found yourself mesmerized by the way the shadows shifted across his skin, accentuating the hills and valleys of his face in different ways based on where the flame sat.

The soft orange glow flickered in his irises. The light was just bright enough to illuminate his face, chest, and shoulders, but the rest of his body seemed to fade into the darkness all around you. A few strands of chestnut hair were still visible, and the light brought forth more details of his natural highlights than you had previously noticed. Overall, he looked warm and safe, and you found yourself shuffling to remain close to him with each movement. You would later insist to Dean that this behavior was a result of you wishing to remain close to the light, but deep down you knew what the true source of your comfort really was.

-

“They’ll never find you, y’know,” the young janitor insisted as he strolled leisurely around the empty space. Well, to be fair, this wasn’t really the janitor. The real man was likely off in some remote location with a slit throat like all the other poor vics you had come across in the coroner’s office on this particular case. No, this man was the shapeshifter you and the team had been hunting for the past week.

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten caught. Your plan was foolproof, at least it was all the way up until it wasn’t. Perhaps it really was never the best idea for the whole team to split up and have each of you going off on your own, but there were simply too many possible hotspots the shifter could have shown up to and not enough hunters to adequately cover them all. You were all hoping to figure out who the latest face claim was tonight, and had no intentions of moving in on the creature. Apparently it had far different plans.

All you could remember was an ear ringing thud against the back of your head before you woke up tied against one of the rickety support beams in an old abandoned warehouse close by where you had been conducting your personal search mission. An hour and a half had already passed, and you found yourself running low on snarky quips to fire back. The backhanded commentary about the cliched locale ran out of steam about thirty minutes ago, and he really wasn’t giving you much else to work off of.

This had clearly worn you down, and you wanted nothing more than to get back to the motel room, shower off the blood and dirt clinging to your skin, and collapse into bed. Of course, your idiotic friends would have to actually find you and save you before that could happen.

“If you were really that confident in them not finding me, then you wouldn’t feel the need to constantly remind me how hopeless it is,” you pointed out, shrugging nonchalantly. “But, whatever, that’s just psychology or whatever. I’m sure the world renowned Winchesters will be completely fooled by you, some random back alley shifter with a thing for the dramatics.”

The noise that ripped from the man’s throat could only be described as a growl; it was a bit too human to be an animal, but just animalistic enough to not feel human either. All in all, it was utterly unsettling, and you found your feet shuffling around in discomfort. “Shut up,” he snarled. His lip curled upwards to bare his teeth, an act that seemed out of place when the pearly whites being revealed were the dull, omnivorous ones of a human being. You quirked a brow in question.

The shifter twirled the knife in his hand as he made his way over to where you stood. The cool metal of the blade was chilling against the skin of your neck, and you pressed your back into the wooden beam behind you in an attempt to retreat from his threat. “For someone about to die, you sure do talk a lot,” he hissed. You winced against the scent of tobacco and cheap liquor clinging to his breath.

“Well,” you muttered, mustering a smirk despite yourself. “For an evil mastermind who wants to kill me, you sure are taking your precious time.” Perhaps goading a mentally unstable form changing monster into killing you wasn’t the best course of action, but it was the only comeback your brain could think of as you felt the kiss of his knife against your bared throat.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m just letting you simmer for a while,” the shifter hummed. He raised the knife to brush a lock of hair from your eyes before trailing it down the side of your face. Your fists clenched from their place tied behind your back. “That fear in your eyes, the fear you’re trying to hide from me, it’s… thrilling. You act so high and mighty, you act like you’re the one in control here, but all it would take is one… little…” The knife in his hand trailed down the column of your throat and paused just over your heart, where he pressed down the flat of the blade just enough that the edges dug into your skin. “Slip.” On that word, he flicked his wrist, drawing a line of scarlet blood along your chest. You hissed out in pain.

“Oh, screw you, man,” you muttered through clenched teeth. He gave a dark chuckle and ran his knife through the stream of blood trickling down your skin.

He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a bang sounded from behind him. “Jack, wait!” Sam Winchester’s gruff voice called. The old, dilapidated door of the warehouse opened and slammed against the wall, revealing the young nephilim’s fuming form in the doorway.

“Jack!” You cried out in desperation. His gaze flickered over you momentarily, scanning your injuries and growing darker and darker with each new one he found. At the sight of the knife still being held against your chest, Jack’s eyes went alight.

“Stop!” He shouted, throwing his hand out in front of him and sending golden beams of his grace towards your attacker, who went flying far from gracefully across the empty room. His body slammed into one of the support beams, causing the wood to crack and splinter.

Sam and Dean came barreling into the warehouse after Jack, guns and knives at the ready. Sam wasted no time before rushing towards you, slicing through the rope around your wrists with his blade and catching you in his arms when your legs collapsed beneath you. You sighed and settled into his grasp, turning your eyes to Jack’s squared shoulders as he made his way to the crumpled form of the shifter.

Dean stepped forward to help the nephilim, but with a wave of Sam’s hand, he held his place and watched from afar instead. Jack’s entire body seemed to glow with his grace, his eyes a brilliantly bright gold unlike anything you had ever seen from the man. His jaw was set in determination as he reached a hand down and gripped the shifter’s shirt collar. He dragged the struggling man a few feet to the wall, where he slammed him against the ramshackled wooden planks.

“You should never have touched them,” he spat menacingly. Golden irises swept over the shifter’s body in disgust. The veins in Jack’s arm took up his signature glow as well, the light travelling up to his hand, where it seemed to sizzle against the shifter’s skin. An ear splitting cry ripped from the man’s throat, his legs thrashing wildly in an attempt to escape, but Jack made no move to let go. He simply tightened his grip and continued on. The shadow of two large wings spanned out along the wall, each wing easily seeming to be at least twice as large as Jack himself. They flared out in a way one could only describe as threatening, and for the first time in your life, you could understand the fear others seemed to have when they spoke of Jack Kline. The golden glow emanating from his being sent the hairs along your arms and at the back of your neck standing on end. Never had you seen Jack so… frightening. You tended to spend most of your time around the man cooing over his soft spoken nature and kind smiles. Seeing the full extent of the nephilim’s powers felt like being thrown into a bath of ice water. This truly was a being of immense strength and unimaginable power, and that fact was being thrown in your face quite suddenly.

“Jack!” You called out, voice wavering slightly in fright of the sight of such a cool and collected man in a state like this. He froze at the sound of your voice and turned his eyes to you. His grip loosened ever so slightly and his face fell as he realized what was wrong. He blinked away what he could of his anger and shifted his hand to the man’s forehead, sending one last blast of his grace to smite the shifter on the spot. The body crumpled to the floor, burnt out eyes gazing into nothing.

Jack turned on his heel and made it over to you in a few long strides. His hands reached out and he took you from Sam without a second thought. The golden glow in Jack’s eyes still had not disappeared entirely as he scanned over your injuries. His brow furrowed in unease at the sight of the various bruises and cuts marring your skin. Slowly, he raised a hand up to your cheek and pressed his palm against you. His grace flooded over your body, surrounding you in a warmth and comfort that felt so utterly Jack. Your injuries burned briefly as the grace touched them, but the discomfort was gone as quickly as it came.

At some point during the exchange, it seemed that your eyes had closed on their own volition. You allowed them to open once more, and they locked on to the fading light surrounding Jack’s pupils. Neither of you said a word, you just pulled him towards you and buried your face in his chest.

-

You tugged your jacket closer to your body against the chill of the late night winds. The tell tale splash of yet another rock being tossed incorrectly into the lake could be heard clearly as it echoed through the trees. A chuckle escaped your lips, an the nephilim by the shoreline pouted in response.

“I just don’t get it!” He complained, hanging his head low as he shuffled over to you. Your smile practically split your face at this point.

“Jack, it’s all about the technique. Plus, you have to get the right kind of rock. Make sure the rock is flat. Like…” Your eyes scanned over the rocks all around your feet until you found one that suited your needs. “This one!” You plucked it out of the mess and held it up to Jack for him to inspect. He turned it over in his fingers, brushing over the rock’s surface and giving an understanding nod.

“Okay,” he hummed in acknowledgement. “What next?”

You reached down and grabbed another similar rock that would suit your needs before standing upright once more. “Next, you want to crouch down a little, get yourself closer to the surface of the water, you know?” You do so as you speak, and Jack slowly moves to follow. “Turn to the side…” He shuffled so his side is facing the water. “Now, from here, you need to throw the rock as close to matching the surface of the water as you can, throw it kinda sideways, and flick your wrist.” With a quick flick of your wrist, the rock skids over the water and hops one, two, three times before it finally drops beneath the surface entirely.

You stood to your full height and turned around to face Jack, who had his arm wound back in preparation and a look of utter determination in his eyes. A small smile graced your lips at the sight. The light of the full moon illuminated his features in a soft, innocent glow. This setting felt so much different from the usual yellow tinted bulbs back in the bunker. The natural white light conveyed a sense of purity you had yet to see of him, but once it has been seen, the image will surely never leave you. His hair was pushed back to ensure there would be no distractions during such an important moment. Your gaze followed his arm as he flicked his wrist forward, sending the rock hurtling along the water. The ripples of the stone against the surface distorted his reflection, and you felt a small sense of pride when you saw how it bounced up and hit the water again with a splash.

“I did it!” He cried in victory, jumping up with a look of sheer joy.

You smiled back and nodded, trying your best to match his excitement. This proved to be an easy task, as anything pertaining to Jack and his happiness brought you joy. “You did! That was great, Jack!” You praised. He took a step towards you and pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around you in a grateful embrace. Just like that day in the warehouse, you found yourself easing into his arms without a second thought. You slumped against him and pressed your face into his neck, glad to simply bathe in his presence and nothing more. The light of the moon cascaded down upon the pair of you, casting a line of white over the surface of the water. You trailed your eyes down the path of moonlight until your gaze rested on the still rippling reflection of your embrace. A smile settled itself on your lips, and you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

-

He wasn’t supposed to run off. He was supposed to stay with the group. Where did he go? Why did he run off? Why did he run off?

Your panicked gaze scanned over your wooded surroundings in hopes of spotting the familiar nephilim, but it was to no avail. This hunt was lasting longer than it was supposed to. The last rays of the day were disappearing and the streams of sunlight that once ran through the treetops were quickly being replaced by a shroud of dark night sky.

A scream of his name bubbled up in your throat, and it took everything in you to force it back down and continue your quiet search. You could hardly even hear the shuffling of the rest of the team around you over the pounding of your heart in your ears. You tightened your grip on the handle of your gun, hovering your pointer finger over the trigger in case of an emergency. The bullets loaded into the gun wouldn’t do much good against the wendigo lurking somewhere in those woods, but you held on to the hope that you would be able to distract the thing long enough to molotov the son of a bitch.

“I just don’t understand why he would go off on his own like that,” you muttered aloud, voice audibly shaking with unease. Dean let out a sigh.

“You know how the kid has been lately. He hasn’t felt the same since he came back without his mojo. He’s probably trying to prove he’s still valuable to the team,” the older hunter explained. He kept his voice as quiet as possible so as not to disturb the bloodthirsty monster hiding in the shadows, but even at such a low volume his baritone seemed to echo endlessly through the trees. You winced at the idea of the wendigo perched atop one of the many branches looming overhead, simply listening to your conversation and waiting for the right time to strike.

You let out a frustrated huff. “He doesn’t have to prove a thing. We all know he’s a valuable asset to the team. Plus, he’s family.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sam nod his head, his chin length hair swaying with his movements. “Of course we know that, but I don’t think he’s trying to prove it to us. He’s doing this to prove it to himself.”

Your heart constricted at that. Jack didn’t believe he was capable without his powers, and now he was risking his life to make a point to himself. You swallowed the rising lump in your throat and blinked away the sting of would-be tears. This wasn’t the time to get emotional.

Your search seemed fruitless, and soon enough you found yourself unable to see past a few feet in the darkened woods. Castiel’s eyes shone a bright blue, the only light you could make out in the otherwise almost pitch black night. The moon provided little comfort from its place shrouded behind the tops of the trees. A chilling wind swept through the forest floor, sending an unnerving chill down your spine.

“Can you see anything, Cas?” You asked the angel, whose eyes flickered back and forth across the landscape. He furrowed his brow in frustration.

“I can’t find any signs of Jack’s presence. No trail of footprints, no broken branches, nothing to indicate where he might have gone.”

This answer was unhelpful, but exactly what you expected. Jack might be practically human now, but he isn’t a fool. He knows how to cover his tracks like the best of them. Castiel continued to examine the terrain, being the only one of the four of you who could still manage to see. Meanwhile, you followed close behind and tuned your ears in to listen for anything suspicious. It didn’t go over your head that there was still a ravenous wendigo prowling around, and three blinded hunters would surely be a tempting meal to the beast. If it wasn’t stalking Jack, then you had no doubts that its eyes were on you. To be entirely honest, you weren’t sure which option made your stomach turn more.

You had just taken another step forward when you heard the scream. Jack’s voice. Undeniably, that was Jack’s voice. “Help!” He sobbed, the piercing sound bouncing off the trees. “Please help me!”

It took less than a second for you to turn and dash in the direction of the disturbance. The cries of your friends behind you, begging you to stop were drowned out in favor of pushing all of your energy forward. A hand made a grab for your jacket. You yanked the material away in one smooth motion.

Once a set of fingers wrapped around your elbow and pulled backwards, that was when the world came flooding back to your senses. Your body tumbled to the cold dirt floor. Your limbs scrambled to right yourself and continue on, but you were ultimately stopped by a pair of arms curling around your waist and lifting you up and away.

“Sam, let go of me!” You pleaded as you continued to thrash in his hold. His grip only tightened. “Sam, please! I need to save him!”

“I can’t let you do that!” His voice sounded pained, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at that point.

“Why not?” You hissed through your teeth. Frustrations were mounting and anger bubbled up deep within your chest. “We can’t just leave him! He’s gonna die, I can’t lose him! We can’t lose him!”

“God, this is like trying to keep Jack from barging into that warehouse to save them all over again,” Dean muttered. His hands worked to keep you still, and your legs worked double time to kick him away. “Dammit, stop that!”

“No! Let me go!”

“(Y/N), have you forgotten what we’re hunting in the first place?” Castiel butted in. “This is a wendigo, their mimicry of human voices is perfect. We can’t trust anything we hear!” His tone begged you to understand. It told you how upset the situation made him as well. The amount of pain he felt from being unable to save the boy he sees as a son was clearly audible. And it made you even angrier.

“Sam, I’m sorry about this.”

A pause. “Wait, what?”

Without another word, you threw your elbow back to meet his chin. His hold on you released instantly, and as soon as your feet touched the ground, you were off. You could no longer hear their shouts. You couldn’t hear the pounding of your feet against the leaves and branches littered beneath your boots. You couldn’t hear your heaving breaths. All that registered in your mind was the pumping of the blood in your ears and the memories of Jack’s cry for help. Maybe it was the wendigo, but if it was, then it knew Jack. And now you had no doubt in your mind that it planned to go after Jack first. Maybe you were running straight into the monster’s trap, but if there was even the slightest chance that you could kill this thing before it set a claw on Jack Kline, you were going to take it.

Your search brought you to the mouth of a cave. All you could make out was the rock’s shape around a gaping, pitch black hole. Carefully, you tucked your gun in the waistband of your pants and replaced it with your lighter in one hand and your homemade molotov bottle in the other. In a few quick flicks the lighter sparked to life. Upon waving the flame over the ground outside the cave, a few old splotches of blood became very apparent, and your hunter instincts kicked into overdrive. This was the wendigo’s lair. There was no doubt about that.

You took silent steps into the cave. The humid air held the unmistakable scent of rotten flesh and the metallic tang of blood, new and old. You swallowed down the bile that threatened to creep up your throat and continued on. The shake that previously overtook your hands was long gone now, replaced by the deadly, steady accuracy of your rage.

Your venture took you deeper and deeper into the cavern. The farther in you got, the heavier the stench became in your nose, and it took all you had not to gag on each breath. The air was stale and the ground was just damp enough to utter a soft squish each time your boots sunk into the dirt. The cave took a sharp turn, and you pressed your back against the wall before swinging out around the corner with your lighter and bottle outstretched and at the ready. What you saw, however, wasn’t the wendigo, but a clearly winded Jack Kline pressed against the wall where the cave hits a dead end.

His eyes met yours and instantly you saw the fear filling his body. “No, you shouldn’t be here!” He cried out, struggling to his feet with one hand planted firmly on the rock wall.

Your jaw clenched at the sight of crimson staining his left pant leg, the denim clearly torn where the wendigo must have slashed at him to immobilize him. “Where is it?” You growled out. Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short when the sound of skittering claws rang from behind you. You turned around in just enough time to see the beast swipe a hand at you. It sent you flying into the far wall of the space. Your grip on the bottle and lighter tightened as your back slammed against the stone. Pain exploded in your side, and only once you felt the blood soaking into your shirt did you realize it was coming from the large gash along your torso.

The wendigo let out a ferocious snarl as it stalked towards Jack, seeming ready for a meal now that it had stocked up on a new victim to keep for later. Blood trickled down your neck from where the back of your head had connected with the wall, and the pounding sensation sent your vision swirling and fading in and out. You couldn’t see much, but from what you made out of the creature raising its claws to strike Jack down, you were ready to jump into action.

One flick of the lighter seemed to be enough this time, and you barely gave the cloth enough time to catch the fire before you screamed out, “Duck!” and hurled both objects, molotov and lighter combined, in the direction of the monster. Jack dived towards you to the best of his ability with an injured leg. The molotov connected with the wendigo’s calf, the glass shattering and allowing the fire to spread to consume its entire frame.

You closed your eyes against the sudden light and turned to face Jack, who now sat next to you against the wall. Your hand reached out to instinctively cover Jack’s face from the flames, only to find that he, too, had turned to face you. You kept your hand in place on the side of his head. Your fingers curled into his hair and your palm pressed against his cheek in an effort to ground yourself.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to take in Jack’s features. The flickering orange flames illuminated his tousled mop of waves. With the fire placed where it was, only one side of the boy’s face was visible, but from what you could see, his skin was blotched with a layer of dirt. Some patches of skin were also coated in the telltale crimson of blood, while others were tinted a deep purple with an oncoming bruise. A distinct line ran down from his eye to curve around his chin, the path his tears continued to take along his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, a red tint surrounding the blue of his iris. The orange glow of the fire flickered in his glassy pupils. His eyes were wide and his pupils were blown like a frightened animal. His bottom lip pouted out, only adding to the image of a scared little boy being built in your mind.

His frame shook so heavily that you could see the shadow behind him quivering as well. He was scared - no, he was terrified. He was beaten, bruised, clawed, and thrown around, but all you could see was that he was alive. And in a moment of absolute clarity and overwhelming relief, you did the only thing you could think to do. You placed your palms against his cheeks and pulled him towards you into a kiss. He let out a gasp against your lips, but melted into the kiss only a moment later. He shuffled as close to you as he possibly could. His hands clutched desperately at your shirt and tugged every so often as if he wanted you even closer. Your hands drifted to the back of his head and your fingers curled through his hair. You gripped at the roots with just enough force to remind him that you were there, and you weren’t going anywhere.

By the time you both broke away from each other, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were stood over the flaming wendigo. The brothers’ chests heaved with the exertion of their run, and each of the three men wore expressions of mixed relief and understanding. Your cheeks flushed at the sight of the bruise forming on Sam’s chin. Dean let out a huff and shook his head to remind you that you would be getting a lecture for what you had done, but kept his speaking tone soft and clear of judgement for the time being.

“Come on, lovebirds. Let’s get you two patched up.”

-

You lounged lazily across the couch in what Dean had deemed his “Dean cave.” You had mentioned your favorite movie the other day in passing, and Jack had seemed quite interested in the subject, having never seen the film before. When Sam and Dean went out on a local salt and burn with just the pair of them, you decided that would be the perfect chance for you to introduce the ex-nephilim to your world. After mentioning the idea to Castiel and wondering if he had seen it before, he told you that he knew about it from the information Metatron gave him, but held no personal memories or thoughts on the subject. He seemed glad to join yourself and Jack on your movie night, and you were more than prepared to have a nice, calm night with your favorite celestial beings.

The room was dark except for the soft glow of the DVD’s menu screen on the flat screen Dean had splurged on a few weeks prior. You were grateful that you no longer had to crowd around someone’s laptop for movie nights, and the dedicated room for relaxation was a necessary add in to the bunker after everything you all had to deal with. You fiddled with the remote in one hand, your arm spread out towards the TV as it hung off the couch.

Castiel sat upright in one of the comfy old recliners placed on either side of the couch. His hands rested on his knees and a soft smile settled on his lips. His cobalt gaze swept over you in amusement and a bit of wonder. “(Y/N),” he addressed into the silent air. As usual in these situations, he kept his tone soft.

You looked up at him, your vision of him upside down from your position. “What’s up, Cas?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, fiddling with his thumbs. “We haven’t had a talk in a while.”

You paused a moment to think. “We have, Cas. We usually have a talk at least once a week. We had one a couple days ago, right?” You reminded him. Your brows were furrowed in confusion. Castiel gave a quick nod.

“Yes, I suppose, but I more so meant we haven’t had a talk about a specific subject in quite a while.” His rephrasing cleared up little in your mind, but from the look in his eyes, he was expecting you to come to some sort of understanding.

Your eyes wandered the room as you continued to rack your brain for a clue. “Do I get any hints? Am I allowed to phone a friend?” You joked casually.

Now it was Cas’s turn to furrow his brows. His gave his signature head tilt as he spoke. “I… don’t see how calling a colleague might help in this situation, but…” He trailed off and shook his head in dismissal. “What I mean is, you seem to have lost interest in the lore on human souls. I simply find it peculiar how you have stopped asking about wishing to see them and wondering what they look like so suddenly. I hope you know that you are not bothering me when you ask things like that.” His tone held an apologetic edge to it, as if afraid that he had seemed to disinterested and had scared you off of the subject. A smile found its way onto your face at the thought. Castiel, angel of the lord, worried he made you feel bad about your interests and curiosity.

“No, Cas, I know. You’re always very patient with me during our talks, and I really appreciate that. It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I kinda… understand it now?” You tried to clear things up, but it came out sounding more like a question than an answer.

“How so?”

You gave a vague shrug. You dropped the remote onto your stomach and picked absentmindedly at your nails, trying to hide the crimson blush creeping up your cheeks in the low light available. Around anyone else you would be certain that they could not see such a thing, but you knew better with Castiel. His vision that night in the woods was proof enough that he could see in the dark without issue. “I guess I just… I understand how you can just… tell what someone is like through something as simple as a light. I understand that feeling of looking at something and understanding how it’s feeling. I used to think that a light couldn’t possibly be enough, that a soul can’t be made up of something so simple, but I guess I figured out how complex it can really be. Complex, but still… really beautiful. And good. And pure. And sure, maybe sometimes it’s a little scary, but at the end of the day, it stands for power and beauty and life, and that’s pretty amazing.” You trailed off of your tangent with a cough. Your cheeks were on fire, and you could practically feel Cas’s gaze burning holes in your head. “Or, like, something like that. I guess. Whatever, it’s not important.”

The angel opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment Jack opened the door with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in hand and a bright smile on his face. He raised the bowl in celebration. “I didn’t burn it this time!” He cheered in victory. You grinned.

“That’s great, Jack! Now get over here, and let’s get this movie started.” You raised your head up just enough so he could sit down before dropping it back down onto his lap. He placed the bowl on the coffee table to free up his hands so he could begin running them through your hair.

You wouldn’t notice the way Castiel’s gaze lingered on you both for the better portion of the movie. You wouldn’t notice the way he picked out each little social cue Dean had taught him about romance all those years ago. You wouldn’t notice the pleased smile that would tug at the corners of his lips when he realized that this was real. But you would notice the way Jack’s face would change with each twist of the plot. You would notice the way the dull light from the TV cast a perfectly cut shadow to define his jawline. You would notice how different he looked in the different color palettes present in different scenes. You would notice how the shadows across his face danced and shifted each time he would lean down to plant a random kiss on your lips, cheek, or forehead. You would always notice these things, because that was Jack Kline’s soul. Every little flicker of the light across his skin, every shadow along the curves of his body, every glint in his eyes, everything you saw was a part of who he is. And in your eyes, who he is is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen.

[lesbians4shaynetopp]

Smosh Theatre AU

Actors

• Shayne- Baritone

• Courtney- Soprano

• Noah- Tenor

• Keith- Baritenor

• Damien- Baritenor

• Olivia- Alto/Mezzo

• Sarah- Mezzo/Sop

• Kimmy- Alto/Mezzo

• Ian (but mostly assi. director)- Bass

Crew

• Matt- stage manager

• Mari- assi. stage manager

• Joven- set head

• Lasercorn- set head

• Wes- sound head

• Boze- costume/makeup head

• Flitz- props head/choreographer

• Sohinki- lights head

Directors- Rhett and Link

The Musicals

Little Shop Of Horrors

Seymour- Noah

Audrey- Courtney

Audrey II- Keith

Orin Scrivello- Damien

Crystal, Ronnette, and Chiffon- Kimmy, Olivia, and Sarah

Mr. Mushnik- Shayne

Falsettos

Marvin- Damien

Whizzer- Shayne

Trina- Kimmy

Mendel- Keith

Jason- Noah

Charlotte- Olivia

Cordelia- Courtney

Waitress

Jenna- Courtney

Dawn- Olivia

Becky- Kimmy

Dr. Pomatter- Damien

Earl- Ian

Ogie- Noah

Cal- Shayne

Joe- Keith

Headcanons

Actors

Damien

• Damien is the star of the program

• He has a lot of range as an actor

• He has singing range up to a F#4 belt

• He had so much fun as Orin in little shop

• Dark Damien popped off honestly

• And then with falsettos he went off with it all. Bitch’ll make you cry

• Though he had a harder time staying in character with him

• Just because it’s hard to do Thrill Of First Love with your best friend (if you know you know)

• He didn’t think he was going to be Dr. Pomatter but that’s how it ended up

• It was a little harder on his voice, but he loved every second

Keith

• Keith has RANGE BABYY He goes up to an A4 and down to a C3

• His favorite role he’s every done was Audrey II.

• He says it’s because he didn’t have to worry about blocking

• But it’s really bc he got to play with it a lot

• Mendel was harder for him bc he’s used to over the top characters

• He was so excited to work with Noah a lot

• Bc ya know bffs

• Being Joe in Waitress wasn’t his favorite role, but he can play old really well

• He was the sweetest old man and he made Courtney cry on stage during Take It From An Old Man

Noah

• Then Noah is a NATURAL tenor. He can go to a B4 but he can’t go very low

• He’s a phenomenal with body language on stage

• Also he gets main roles bc he can sing so high

• But also bc he’s just fucken talented

• Seymour was he best role. Like- he was perfect for the role.

• He burst out laughing when he saw the cast list for falsettos bc OF COURSE he was cast as the little Jewish kid

• But that also meant Damien, Keith, Shayne, and Kimmy got to be his parents 🥰🥰

• The CHEMISTRY he and Keith had on stage during falsettos tho

• In Waitress he was lowkey confused about being Ogie and not Dr. Pomatter bc he thought Damien was gonna be Ogie

• But he ended up really liking Ogie

• He basically had the comedic relief and two solo songs sooo

Courtney

• Courtney?? She’s a hella soprano. Belts a F5 and amazing falsetto.

• She will usually get the main roles bc she a soprano and blonde

• So of course she got Audrey

• Doing the accent was really fun for her

• The entire character was very over the top and fun for her

• Tho she honestly thought she was going to be Trina, but she accepted the fact that she has been overthrown by Kimmy

• And she loved being a lesbian with Olivia

• Bc that was just everyday for them

• Jenna in Waitress was her best role

• It was the most vulnerable she’s ever felt on stage

• She loved working with Damien too

• Bad Idea? So much fun.

Shayne

• Shayne is more into the straight plays but he does like to do the musicals.

• He’s truly a baritone, but for falsettos he was able to stretch it and build his falsetto (haha)

• It did take a little bit of a toll on his voice

• But it was SO worth it making people cry during The Games I Play and You Gotta Die Sometime

• It was the most work he’s ever put into a show character-wise

• He usually plays the homophobic assholes and now he’s playing the boyfriend of the homophobic asshole (haha oops 🤭🤭)

• Honestly he did fall a little more in love with Damien (in a friend way obviously) during the entire process

• Being mean to Noah in Little Shop? Best thing

• The dancing in Mushnik & Son was a lot of work for him

• But it was a really fun song too

Kimmy

• Kimmy was a newbie for Little Shop and blew everyone away with her powerful alto belt

• They didn’t think twice about her for Trina

• And she fucking KILLED IT

• She thought Courtney hated her for a little bit, but she realized that’s it wasn’t the case

• Everyone accepted her in immediately

• She got closer to everyone really quick because of falsettos since it was a smaller cast and more relationship building

• Working with Keith was a lot of fun for her

• He brought a lot to the table, comedy-wise and it was just a blast for her

• Then with Waitress she REALLY got to connect with the girls which was amazing

• And she got to really belt out those alto notes as Becky

Olivia

• Olivia was never a naturally good singer, but she really wanted to do theatre (especially musical theatre) so she did A LOT of voice lessons

• She’s a great dancer and actor though

• But she usually doesn’t get the biggest roles in the musicals

• Except for Waitress which was a great experience for her

• It was such a perfect role for her character-wise

• With falsettos though, she had a hard time with it all

• The character was really anything she’s done before

�� And the singing was VERY belt-y

• But by the end it was great

Sarah

• Sarah isn’t the best out of the other actors, but it doesn’t really bother her

• Anything is good for her

• She likes supporting the actors

• And she got to be assistant director for Waitress!

• When she’s not in the shows, she usually helps Boze with costumes and makeup or set with the design aspects

• She’s sort of a jack of all trades around there

Ian

• He’s been apart of the program for a WHILE

• He started out as an actor, but as more people kept coming he started doing more assistant director stuff

• Which is fine for him

• He likes doing the more director-y things

• Since he IS a bass, it’s harder for him to get musical roles since broadway is FULL of tenors

• He was ecstatic when he saw he got to be in Waitress

• Of course as Earl

• Rock vocals are his thing

• Also acting as a creep

Crew

Matt

• He is THE stage manager

• He’s super organized and very on top of everything

• He works a lot with sound and lights

• The focus is REAL during shows bc he be calling cues like a madman

• If you look at his script, it’s very messy though

• All different colors and notes jammed into the margins

• He’s not afraid to yell at the crew if they screw something up

• But they all still love him

Mari

• She’s also super organized so she and Matt are a super team

• She works more closely with the more tangible aspects of the show like set and props

• She’s also not afraid to yell at them

• She takes more organized notes so the directors are actually able to read them

Joven and Lasercorn

• they’re like an old married couple when it comes to the set

• Joven dreams big, while Lasercorn thinks more practically

• Mostly because Lasercorn does the bulk of the actual building and inventory

• Joven does the blueprints

• In the end, they’re a dream team and are there to make the shows look awesome

• And they Do

Wes

• Sound is no easy task that requires a lot of patience with the directors and focus

• There have been multiple instances that Matt has YELLED at him because of missed cues, a cue being too quiet, etc.

• And on performance night, literally sweat is dripping from his forehead bc of the stress

• They joke that it’s where his silver hair comes from

• And it may seem like the worst thing ever to be on sound, but Wes loves the thrill of it all

Boze

• She loves theatre and always wished to be apart of it somehow

• She’s never been able to act, dance, or sing very well, so she applied to the local regional theatre to do the things she CAN do: thrift, sew, and do makeup

• She loves helping with quick changes and putting makeup on the men

• ESPECIALLY Damien since he hates makeup

Flitz

• He’s always loved dance, but he’s not really a singer or an actor

• Also loves antiques

• So the program put him head of props because they were low on staff at that time

• The theatre doesn’t usually do super dance heavy musicals, so any songs that do have dance numbers, he will choreograph

• He did all of the choreo for Crystal, Chiffon, and Ronnette in Little Shop, Mushnik & Son, the smaller stuff in Falsettos, Never Ever Getting Rid Of Me, and Bad Idea in Waitress

Sohinki

• He had experience in lighting for a small concert venue and then he came to the theatre bc he needed a job very bad

• And the theatre needed techies, so it was a perfect match

• He had to admit, doing lights for shows is so much better than concerts

• There’s more of a thrill to it

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Leonidas Karatasos AGE & BIRTH DATE. Currently 33, reincarnated on August 11th, 1986 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Kobalos OCCUPATION. Owner of Hypnos FACE CLAIM. Scott Eastwood

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: war, death, violence, drinking, assault, homophobia, fire, madness ) When Leonidas was born in a small village on the outskirts of Thebes in ancient Greece, he never would have imagined to still be alive an eternity later. He was a lively child, with a knack for games and jokes, a huge smile on his face and a devilish glint in his eyes. He was born into a family that had partaken in the village’s belief in Dionysus for years before he was born. They praised the god of madness and ecstasy day and night and constantly celebrated him. They were known to be just as ecstatic as their god was supposed to be, leading ritualistic dances and sing songs through nights and days. While they thought they believed in the only true religion, and praised the best god there was, outside of their little world many frowned upon them. They were belittled, as well as beaten and laughed at. Other people around Thebes watched them with both worry and disgust. And despite that, Leonidas never wavered in the strong belief that had been burnt into his mind from the moment he was born. It did not matter that the rest of the world thought he was one with a group of crazy people. He would still whisper about it into the ears of those who would listen once he was old enough, ready to spread the belief to anyone who had an open ear for him. He would still take a beating, and rise from it to celebrate another feast for Dionysus.

Though even within the group of the small village, Leonidas was often the one who didn’t like to be in the middle of it all. He liked being just outside of the light, dancing in shadows, and observing some of the more extreme rituals the others partook in. While he was a fan of a life with no boundaries, he sometimes felt bad for the fact that they would plug people from their own lives as if they were no longer needed. He would have gladly stolen a loaf of bread from them, but their entire life? It did not stop him from having fun, of indulging in those aspects of the belief that especially appealed to him. For Leonidas, there was no way he would ever leave them, and so he was still in the only space he thought he belonged when Dionysus finally listened to their prayers. Being granted powers by the god they had prayed to for so long now seemed almost like a surreal dream – but who would say no to the gift of immortality?

The villagers were gifted not only that but also the ability to trick whoever they wanted and conjure illusions by looking into another pair of eyes. The man who was in his mid-twenties at the time couldn’t quite believe his luck. Finally, he had an easy time paying back those that wronged him and those he held close to his heart. He reveled in getting to trick them, in driving them mad when he thought they deserved it. In the end, his first mortal life was still ended by another human who despised the villagers, and beat him until no life was left in his body. He was reincarnated into the village that had always been his home and would be his home once again. While living there, Leonidas loved to connect to the plants around him, learning about their healing abilities and how to use them, while still using his trickster abilities to their fullest. He was hardly seen without an amused sparkle in his eyes or a laugh on his lips. He was good at spreading joy, even better at masking his feelings when he didn’t feel it for once. Back in those days, he thought life could go on like this forever and ever. But of course, it did not. It was between 339 and 338 BC that his life was turned upside down by the war against Philip II of Macedon. Leonidas did not care much about the politics behind the war, though that changed once Thebes was overrun, his family of villagers ripped apart, and most of them sold into slavery. He had a burning hatred for what had happened to the perfect life he lived, and he swore he would never turn a blind eye to politics again. Rich men with great monologues should not rule over those less fortunate.

Leonidas was bought by a young man who was rich and striving to rise up in power to impress his father and his wife-to-be. Little did he know who he had let into his home, for Leonidas hardly wasted any time in using his powers to get himself out of slavery. He used mostly his glamour, but also his silk tongue to whisper promises and stories into his owner’s ears until he no longer believed him to be a slave, but an equal. It was by his side that he managed to get a foot in the door of the regime of Alexander The Great. However, the Kobaloi didn’t make it very far in his quest to undermine the regime, as he found his fate once more by a blade cutting his neck when the man who originally bought him was attacked.

Being reincarnated into the life of a man who became a soldier before he remembered his wish to drive anyone mad who let others fight for them, he once again found himself in the middle of a war. Despite using whatever trick he had up his sleeve, Leonidas didn’t make it far while Alexander The Great was fighting his wars. He fought and fell, just another soldier who died. By the time Alexander died, Leonidas had been reincarnated once more, already irritated with the sensation. He found himself still sticking in Greece, though no longer near his home that Thebes had once been. Now he found himself as part of the Aetolian League, residing in Athens. But the young Kobaloi never actually felt an alliance with anyone. Over time, he slipped from the Aetolian League to the Achaean league, changing his home and supposed alliance to be able to drive the conquering groups mad. He managed to make his way towards those leading wars and fights, giving suggestions on their strategies, while doing the same to the other side not long after. Leonidas, who had originally intended to help out those who were less fortunate, got lost in the pleasure of fueling chaos and madness. He would whisper his way into beds of important people, create illusions to get them to do what he wanted. He enjoyed it, and every death he died throughout the years was worth it. Soldier, advisor, lover, trickster.

But there was one thing that truly messed up his plans and his will to only live for the chaos he could create: finding his soulmate. It was the last thing he had expected to ever happen to him, someone who had very much enjoyed sexual freedom up until that moment, but it took only one look at the man’s face and his heart was captured in an instant – and would never let go of this feeling for the rest of his lives. While Leonidas was gifted an immortal life and reincarnation, the one he chose to fall for lived a very different timeline. The time they got to spend together was never enough before his beloved was called into a veil Leonidas could not quite fathom with his thoughts, forced to stay away from him. Sometimes they got to spend more years together, sometimes barely any time at all. It always seemed to take an excruciatingly long time before they got to reunite, and it drove Leonidas mad. They were apart more than they were together it seemed, and that was unfair in the eyes of the furious Kobaloi. Every time they got separated over the years, he would unleash his emotions in the form of more madness. He made his way through Europe but always made his way back to Greece as if feeling its call. He slipped from court to court, from regime to regime, often masking himself as a charming young man who only had everyone else’s best interest at heart. The reality was, he thrived on making everyone else suffer when his own heart was burning. He loved ruining lives because his own seemed so very broken. When he didn’t find himself among those more fortunate, he was often reincarnated into the life of a man who was fighting yet another war, the pain in his heart overshadowed by that of the violence real life had to offer.

That was his routine for too many centuries. Die painful deaths at war, see excruciating pain, find himself in slavery – or celebrate debaucherous feasts full of ecstasy and madness while driving the rich and influential against one another, and in between that, meet the love of his life only to lose him over and over again. From extreme high to extreme lows, it shouldn’t have been surprising that he suffered. Leonidas mind sometimes didn’t differ so much from those he had driven mad with his own powers. He was angry at the world and angry at the god who had given him these powers – apparently to do nothing more but suffer and see others suffer.

The Kobaloi was the reason for quite a few monarchs going mad over the centuries. Those who loved to torture and throw great feasts often found Leonidas in their court. None of them would have said phrases like “Qu'ils mangent de la brioche” or refer to choices that were sure to make people hate them. He was one of the people King Charles VI of France listened to when enough alcohol was coursing through his system, plenty of his more bizarre moments stemming from conversations with Leonidas. He left the court of King Charles VI in 1393 after a celebration later on known as “ball of the burning men”. Leonidas had fueled the idea of the king to show up to a wedding with some of his men dressed as wildlings, covered in pitch. Four of them ended up burning to death. Leonidas couldn’t have cared less.

Two centuries later, Leonidas was also the reason why Emperor Rudolf II developed a severe case of paranoia. The Kobaloi found it delighting to tell the man that everyone wanted to overthrow and kill him – while his words partly held truth, they were also partly an illusion to make the emperor insecure. And it worked. Leonidas watched from the sidelines as Rudolf II was called unstable and unpredictable. He helped the emperor find people to fuel his love for the occult, watching with glee how he threw himself into false information about the supernatural world, while the real problem was sitting right next to him. Leonidas left the man shortly before he was overthrown by his brother, having lost interest in the man once more. His next life he spent at the court of Queen Christina of Sweden, finding joy in a woman who so clearly held no interest in what was expected of her as a Queen. He helped her dress up in men’s clothing and covered for her when she led women into her bedrooms. It was her who brought him back to Greece eventually, where he settled in Rome until he was hunted and his life ended because some of his neighbors suspected him to be a witch.

With every death, with every monarch driven mad, with every war fought, and with every separation from the love of his life, his sanity seemed to wear thinner. Not many of his deaths were caused by his lack of carelessness when it came to his sexual desires, his celebrations, or his madness. While death had lost all meaning to him over the centuries, dying still didn’t become any easier. Leonidas absolutely hated it, and once again wondered why a god would have given him this sort of gift only to suffer.

Despite his despair, he mostly stuck to Greece since the late 19th century, noticing the call of the veil in Corinth Bay. He lived in the town for some years, before moving elsewhere, feeling unsettled and bored quickly. But he had seen so much of the world already, he didn’t know what else would be able to impress him. From time to time his old love for tricking people around him would burn up with a newfound, undying passion, and it was in those moments that Leonidas would often say he could never get tired of playing games.

But during this time period, he eventually completely lost that spark. Nowadays, he would say that a soul simply is not made to survive forever, and be reborn over and over again. He had seen too much sorrow, and no matter how much he held onto the side of him that was careless and fun-loving, seeing plenty of people he liked die didn’t help either. One could say he suffered through quite a few mid-life crises, those highs, and lows of his never easy to watch. When he lost his lover to death once more, cursed to spend another 100 years without him in the early 20th century, he was simply tired of it all. With no real meaning in life anymore, it sometimes felt like a nuisance to have to go on. Days seemed grey, and any joy of tricking people was lost on him all over again. Leonidas still did it, but it seemed to be as much of a nuisance as everything else. He had lost his fire and passion for life, and a part of him wished that he could just get rid of his reincarnation.

The last time Leonidas died, it was one of his more heroic deaths. He had saved a young woman from a group of men assaulting her, and was stabbed to death on his way home when they recognized him as someone who had kissed a man in the same bar as them not too long ago. Leonidas died, and his gloomy mind stayed with him when he was reincarnated in August 1986. While an older version of himself would have been ecstatic to see the way the world changed, became more open-minded, celebrated festivals and parties, he now attended without seeing any real meaning to it. Where was the point when he had done all of it over and over again? He was missing a part of himself and missing a life that wasmeaningful.

He did not think that Dionysus would ever come into play again. He had given up on his god forever ago, when he stayed silent through too much suffering and too many prayers. Therefore, being called to Corinth Bay where he had lived several times in the past with the promise of a war between Gods, he didn’t know what to expect. He wanted to be mad at Dionysus, mad at these gods fighting each other at the hands of others. While it’s not his first time in the city, he can’t remember ever seeing it crowded by so many supernatural creatures, or with so much brewing underneath the surface. He took over a place he had owned in the past, now a cocktail bar named Hypnos. It was no big trick for him to get the lease signed over to him once more, using the place to judge people, trick them, and figure out which side he really wanted to be on. He is ready to fight – whether he has done more than enough of that in his lifetime or not.

PERSONALITY

+ playful, open-minded, loyal - vengeful, irresponsible, cynical

PLAYED BY LISA. GMT+1. She/Her.

[irwinkitten]

knockout round | a.i

(gif credit to @asht0ns-world )

pairing: reader x boxer!ashton notes: so the who do you love video lowkey inspired this. even tho the majority of the video is lowkey pointless, the looks that ashton was giving the camera gave me such a boxer!ash vibe and lets be real i’m a hoe for possessive and jealous ash. thank u to @asht0ns-world @singledadharrington, @gorgeouslygrace, @sugarcoated-pain and @5sosnsfw for letting me throw out my ideas of this and killing you all with the potential plot ideas. also thank u christa for being the best cheerleader, i love u angel. and massive thank u to lena for finding the gif bc my laptop has issues warnings: violence, smut word count: 3.1k!! 

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Boxing had always been apart of Ashton’s life. He’d never really known a part of his life without it.

As a child, his temperament was always short. Teachers called him the problem child and people never wanted to be his friend. But he still managed to find three friends and forge a tight bond with them that people often called them brothers without even realising there was no familial resemblance to the quartet.

When his mother had enrolled him into boxing classes, after expressing an interest in the programs that he watched with his parents, they soon realised that with the lessons that he went to, his anger simmered down and his fuse seemed to get longer with each passing year.

By the time that Ashton had reached his late teens, he was the lightweight champion of the area. As he continued to grow, put on the muscle, and move up in the divisions, he was making a name for himself. He was one that wasn’t to be messed with.

As his name gained traction with the media, so did stories of his childhood, his anger. And he was a lot more honest about his childhood than most boxers.

“I had a good environment. But I have anger issues and I know that I have them. It’s taken years of hard work to get to where I am today, but I know that the driving force has always been my anger. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

His competitors could never find his achilles heel. His love life was never a subject that he talked or posted about, and despite a few competitors going below the belt and making remarks about his mother that would’ve angered any man, he’d held his cool and then thoroughly beaten them the next day.

When she came into his life, it was steady. She’d just come from a bad relationship, her heart in tatters and the two of them shopping late night. He’d been running for last minute prep and she’d decided to drown her sorrows in alcohol and ice cream. She knew his name, knew his title that he held in the boxing world.

But she didn’t care. All she cared about was he’d picked up the last tub of her favourite ice cream and just at her absolutely defeated look, it prompted him to offer her a deal.

“Let me at least take you out somewhere for the day where we can be kids again. I’ve got some days off coming up anyway.”

His words had prompted the smallest of smiles as she accepted his offer as he handed her the ice cream and she gave him her number, under the stipulation that he wouldn’t be creepy about it.

And despite giving her a mock offended look, he understood her wariness of giving her number to someone who was essentially a complete stranger.

From then on, she became a rock in his life who seemed to have his back regardless. His three friends from childhood who’d all become apart of his management team as he gained status with his boxing, noticed how he was always in better moods, he stuck to the plans before fights and before long the friendship blossomed into a relationship that he was protective of.

But of course, whilst in the media spotlight, he knew that keeping such a relationship quiet was always going to be impossible.

But the day that it’d been announced that he was against her ex, the very one who left her a broken woman in the ice cream aisle, he knew that this fight was going to be important, whether she acknowledged it or not, this was payback for hurting the beautiful woman he was resolutely in love with.

He’d never been so revved for a match before.

Ashton knew that she was worried, that her bottom lip would be shredded beyond belief from her teeth. But he wasn’t.

Dean Martin has gone the wrong way to rile him up, to use his girl as verbal bait. And hearing the derogatory terms, Ashton wasn’t too sure if he was grateful that Calum’s hand on his bicep reminded him where he was, or if he was still annoyed over it.

He was certainly annoyed that the hand turned into a restraining arm when Martin had made a comment of bedding his girl, with or without her permission. He’d seen red and as rage flooded his body, his muscles locked up, ready to pound the fucker down.

Calum had hastily pulled Ashton away from his opponent, opting to keep the distance between them so that Ashton wouldn’t be tempted to knock Martin out before the match.

The headlines went wild with those shots and the look of undiluted rage on Ashton’s features. People were very quickly realising that even he has his limits and Dean Martin had managed to break those limits clean.

Being with her before the match, his hands were firmly around her waist as she stood between his legs. Despite his trainer telling him no distractions, she was never a distraction. Only an anchor. And right now he needed to ground himself because the last thing he wanted to do was lose this fight to someone like Dean Martin.

“Baby, you’ve got this fight in the bag.” She hummed softly, her lips ghosting across his cheek. Ashton sighed.

“I hate the fact that it’s your ex I’m fighting.” He finally admitted and she sighed, her fingers running through his hair. His eyes fell shut of their own accord, her touch soothing the rage that was bubbling under the surface. Martin’s comments still rang in his ears.

“He wasn’t a good man. You’re the better man, better partner.” The words were soft, almost caressing his soul and he felt reassured.

“Only because of you, sweet girl. I’m better because of you.” Her lips curved up into a wry grin as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m proud of you Ash. You’ve got this fight in the bag, and if that boy tries what he did for the weigh in, I won’t be angry or upset. Lord knows you’ve told me time and again that anyone disrespecting me within earshot of you will earn them either a verbal lashing or a physical one depending on their words.” Her tone was teasing, reminding him that she wouldn’t be angry with him.

It’d been an issue at first, his verbal and physical responses to people being either disrespectful or derogatory about his girl. But only when he told her his reasons, how he was raised to respect a woman, regardless of any kinds of relationship, she understood that it was something that he could tone down but not necessarily control.

And they compromised on it. He tried to keep it to verbal smackdowns, and only if someone threw the first punch, did he defend himself. His reputation grew within months and soon when they’d been together for two years, he was at the top of his career.

“Irwin, ten minutes. Your girl needs to go.” Calum had re-entered the locker room, giving her a brief smile. “Seats for you are close to ringside. He’s on the blue corner.” She nodded, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before making her way, ruffling Calum’s hair as she did.

Ashton laughed at the disgruntled look on Calum’s face and he could feel his body begin to gear as he did the last minute stretches.

“Martin’s going to hit hard and fast. You need to be swift. Don’t use everything you have until he starts to wear down.” Ashton nodded, focusing on the aspect of the fight, rather than who he was fighting. He couldn’t let his anger cloud his judgement or moves, not so early on into the match.

Calum was soon hustling him to the entrance corner, both of them knocking fists together before he rushed ahead to prep his area. As the music began playing, he pulled the silk robe on, the hood falling just over his eyes as he made his way out, loud screams causing a smirk to slip on his features as he began the walk through, Luke and Michael following behind at this point and keeping people on the floor seats from mobbing him.

Martin was stood scowling, doing a last minute stretch as his gloves were being put on. Once Ashton was in the ring, Calum was there, pulling the robe off and getting the gloves onto his wrapped up hands.

“Remember, you might be fucking angry with him, but I swear to god Irwin, if you let this fucker beat you, I’ll kick your ass myself.” This caused Ashton to crack a smile before Calum put the mouth guard in and Ashton went and met the ref in the middle. He and Martin touched gloves before the bell went and the first swing came from Martin, aiming for the jaw, causing Ashton to bend backwards to avoid getting clocked.

The noise was deafening and Ashton knew his focus was slipping as Martin landed in some good punches. It was getting close and he could feel himself dropping as he lost the round, his lip bloody and a cut on his cheek, half staggering back to Calum who seemed to be trying his best not to berate him.

But then she was there beside Calum, her hands on his cheeks once he’d been checked over.

“Do me proud, Ashton Fletcher. I know you can beat him.” And his second wind came as the next round got ready.

“Gonna let your bitch lean over for me later when I win? It’s all she ever really was good for.” The comment was crass, but the fuse was lit.

“Irwin, don’t let anger cloud your judgement here.” Calum snapped harshly. The last thing they needed was his focus to be lost, but if anything, his focus was sharpening. And he could feel the anger bubble under his skin.

“C’mon Irwin. Make sure to share the spoils. I mean, she’s second hand goods, surely you’re not still with her?” Ashton’s eyes caught hers and he could see she’d heard his calls. His fuse seemingly got shorter as he gave her a reassuring smile, taking the offered water and taking a few seconds to calm his racing heart.

“How about this, I share her with some buddies and drop her back to you. She might be in reasonable condition if she doesn’t fight like she used to. Always feisty until I got her to see sense, if you catch my drift.” The smirk on Martin’s lips as the words left his mouth snapped something inside of Ashton and the anger that had been bubbling, flooded.

And he was furious.

The bell went and Ashton immediately had Martin on his back foot, unable to even get close for a hit as Ashton’s fists repeatedly went for him, reminding himself to not murder his opponent.

It didn’t take long before there became a real look of fear in Martin’s eyes and Ashton felt no ounce of sympathy as he landed a knockout and the crowd roared in approval. It didn’t take long before the last round was won and his arm was being raised, a bruised rib protesting as he was handed the belt and his lips curved into the widest smirk.

Martin was lucky to get away with the injuries that he got. Two visible black eyes, a few cuts and Ashton was almost certain he managed to at least fracture a rib with the force of his hit at one point. Part of him wished that he broke something clean but he’d take what he could get in this fight. Knowing that he’d gotten what he deserved, settled the anger to a simmer, the adrenaline still flooding his body.

As he exited the ring, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling his girl into his side, his lips meeting hers in a soft, sweet kiss, ignoring the disappointed noises. Once he pulled away, his gaze moved to Martin, staring at him out, his grip only getting marginally tighter until he left the opposite side.

Ashton retreated back to his side, his arms still firmly around her as the medic double checked the rib to make sure it was only bruised and not broken, before clearing him to go and get cleaned up.

She didn’t protest as he pulled her with, her back pressed against the cold tiles as his lips met her neck, the hot water beating down on his back.

“All mine to care for, to love on.” He murmured against her skin, lips and teeth gently pulling at the skin. Her fingers lifted up to run through his hair, gripping the damp strands gently.

“All yours.” She whispered in return, a sharp gasp escaping as his lips had moved to her breasts, his teeth pulling on one nipple carefully as his hand worked the other. She was whining softly, his name escaping occasionally.

His lips moved from her breasts, trailing down as he got to his knees, a whine escaping her lips.

“Shouldn’t it be me rewarding you, handsome?” He shook his head at her words, moving her fingers back to his hair.

“All about you tonight, doll.” She was about to argue, but his tongue licked a stripe up her folds, a startled noise escaping her instead as she gripped his hair, his lips attaching to her clit. He worked two fingers inside of her as he nipped and sucked on her clit, the noises were somewhat beautiful sounds to his ears as she got closer to her orgasm.

Her fingers got tighter around his hair as she called out his name, his lips immediately beginning a journey back up her body slowly sliding his fingers out as he stood up, lifting his fingers to her lips, tapping them gently.

They parted under his touch and her tongue swirled around his digits, a groan escaping his lips as she cleaned them. He wasted no time as he pulled them free, his lips meeting hers as he lined up against her entrance.

“You’re far too good to me, princess.” He groaned as he slid in, her legs lifting off the ground to wrap around his waist. His hands immediately moved to cup her ass as his hips began to move against hers, moans escaping the both of them.

He knew that he wasn’t going to last too long, not with the protesting rib, so one hand slid from her ass, moving to her clit as he picked up his pace. Her words were half begging, incoherent as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

As she came, her eyes falling shut, his head dropped to her shoulder as he reached his own orgasm, her name tumbling from his lips like a prayer, her fingers still working through his hair, their breathing heavy as he pressed gentle kisses on the marks he’d left on her skin.

“I love it when you mark me like that. I know I’m always yours, but seeing them, just sets my insides on fire.” She murmured as he pulled out from her, finally allowing her under the stream of hot water. She kept her hair from the stream of the water as she allowed it to hit her skin.

“Just as I’m yours, sweet girl. I’m sorry if I hurt you though.” His fingers ghosted across the red marks left by his fingers, and she shook her head at him.

“You of all people know that I love seeing them.” She murmured as she reached over, taking the shampoo and working it into his hair. His eyes fell shut at her ministrations and didn’t argue with her. She always told him she loved seeing the marks, but sometimes it didn’t stop the guilt flooding him.

He worked the shower gel along her body as she conditioned his hair. They worked in silence until she’d gotten the suds of the shower gel off his body. His hands switched the water off as her lips slowly moved across from his shoulder, along his collarbone before finding the junction of his neck and shoulder, trailing her lips along the column of his throat.

A soft noise escaped his lips as she reached his jaw, before her lips reached his once more, her hands taking a hold of his head, her palms firmly planted against his cheeks. He knew better than to look away from her when she was this determined.

“I love you, Ashton Irwin, and that won’t ever change. We have words for a reason, and you know I use them. Please don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart.” His lips met hers briefly before a sigh escaped.

“Sorry angel.”

“Your forgiven. Now, we need to get ready and head back home. I know that the boys will want to at least spend a quiet night in celebrating with you.” Her voice held amusement, knowing that despite her want for the two of them to continue their own celebrations, the other three would deliberately ruin that.

Ashton laughed.

“They’re too frightened to cross you, y’know. If you said that you were taking me home, they wouldn’t argue.” He commented as the two stepped from the shower and dried off. She lifted her shoulders into a shrug as she got re-dressed.

“I know, but I don't want them bitching at me, because I want days with you, not just a few hours. So they get the few hours and then I get days. And they know better than to show up unannounced after a match.” The grin that she wore made him laugh as he got dressed.

Once they were ready, his hand slid into hers, fingers interlacing as they headed out back to the waiting cars to get the two of them home. Michael was the first to throw his arm across Ashton’s shoulders as they trio caught up with the two.

“So, we’re drinking at yours then?” She raised an eyebrow pointedly at Ashton, Michael’s words simply proving her point. He rolled his eyes before grinning.

“Of course. M’lookin’ forward to the headlines that are gonna come out from this fight.” Calum laughed as he threw his own arm around her shoulders.

“They’re gonna point out how no one can seemingly knock you down. You’re like a rock.” Luke teased and Ashton rolled his eye as Michael moved his arm from his friends shoulders.

Once they reached his place, the other three didn’t protest as she helped check him over before all but ordering him to put his feet up. The others were about to make a comment, but one look stopped the thoughts dead in their tracks and she received sheepish smiles in return as she finally settled into his good side.

It was worth it all in her eyes.

---

tag list: @cals-babylons , @glitterprincelu , @calumspeachy , @wrappedaroundcal , @cosmocalum , @monsteramongmikey , @talkfastfletcher , @hereforlukescruff , @astroashtonio , @catchinqcalum , @5saucewho , @dontstopisagoodsongchangemymind , @therainydays4 , @asht0ns-world , @silverchainbee , @hidd3nfangirl , @doodleasouarus , @empathycth , @mylovehes , @songforhema , @kinglyhood , @youngblood199456 , @makecoffeenotwars , @sunny-sos , @negative-love , @softboycal , @kinglycalum , @you-of-ghost , @meetyoutheremgc , @lmao5sosimagines , @lietoash , @aw-hawkeye , @drummerboy794 , @itjustkindahappenedreally, @mycollectionofnuts, @abitloudforanaccousticset, @boytoynamedcalum , @teampreator , @dukehoods , @dweebluke , @calumculture , @lashtoncurls , @wildhearthood , @gigglyirwin , @blue-skies-are-alright , @hearts-to-the-sky , @tiddlerrr , @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you , @zooniah , @cakeassx-blog , @paqueretteash , @rotten-kandy , @vipclifford , @musiclover1263 , @rosecoloredash , @jpgluke , @cathartichaoss , @5secondssofssummer , @cozyfivesos , @balsamichood , @cliffordstxngue , @lukesbellas , @myloverboyash , @cxddlyash  , @gabiatthedisco , @rosesfromcth , @gorgeouslygrace , @calumsssparkle , @valentinelrh , @meetashthere , @softforcal , @cakesunflower , @hotmessmichael , @fangirlforever0704 , @caswinchester2000 , @long-termplanwithshort-termfixes , @josierosie , @ashtoniwir , @raabiac , @burncrashbromance , @killerlukesqueen , @angelbabylu , 

[ainsleymorgan]

『MARILYN LIMA ❙ DEMIGIRL』 ⟿ looks like AINSLEY MORGAN is here for HER SOPHOMORE year as a COMPUTER SCIENCE student. SHE is 20 years old & known to be ORGANIZED, BENEVOLENT, INDECISIVE & OBSTINATE. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ lexi. 23. pst. she/hers. 

we’re back at it again folks! this gal has been bopping around my head for a good long while now - i apologize if this is an incoherent mess. give this a little like and i’ll slide into ur dm’s to plot smth ok ily

stats

— background. (death tw, grief tw, cancer tw)

The Morgans have a long, complicated history. Margaret and Callum meet near the end of college (she’s studying English, he lives in town) and fall rapidly in love. The only problem? Margaret’s engaged to her high school sweetheart. When Margaret ends up pregnant, she pretends like it’s her fiancee’s and has a shotgun wedding. Callum goes off to join the army and pretend like his heart wasn’t just shattered in two.

Years pass - Margaret gets her PhD in English and has another kid (this time with her actual husband). Callum leaves the army, gets married too (and widowed a few years later), has some kids of his own. But then they run into each other at a bar in a city far away from the last one they were in together, and it’s like nothing ever changed.

The two get married almost immediately after the divorce papers are signed, and have two more kids almost immediately after that. Margaret becomes an English professor, and Callum’s content with taking care of the gaggle of children their blended family has produced. 

Five years after the last set of kids, Ainsley and her brother Tristan are born. They’re just as unplanned as their eldest sister was, but no less loved. 

They quickly become the apple of the entire family’s eye, doted upon by their army of older siblings. The twins are late to walking, so they get taken to the pediatrician, who says that they’re so used to being carried everywhere by their family that they haven’t felt the need to walk yet. They’re set down more often, and quickly catch up to be able to run after their brothers and sisters.

Ainsley and Tristan are attached at the hip. Despite the attention from the rest of their family, the two maintain that specific bond only twins can. They make up a language that only they can understand, and throw tantrums whenever they’re out of eyesight of each other. 

They’re happy kids, bright and bubbly. And loud. The house is always filled with screams and laughter. It’s an idealistic life, a perfect family.

DEATH TW // There’s an accident when the twins are nearly five. Nobody knows what happened - they swear they were watching the kids splashing in the lake - but suddenly, Tristan’s gone. His body is found in the water later that day. // END TW

GRIEF TW // Ainsley’s too young to understand what’s going on when they bury him. She gets quiet and shy, a once bubbly little girl drawing in on herself. All she knows is that her best friend is gone, and now there’s nobody to actually talk to.

They move soon after, to a town called Lovell, when Margaret gets a job at the local university. It’s something the family needs, after Tristan, and they hope that the change will help Ainsley open back up again.

She doesn’t, not for a while. She’s thrust into kindergarten, in a new town without her twin there to keep her grounded. Her teachers worry about her social skills - she seems to prefer painting or doodling to playing on the playground with her classmates. But slowly, surely, she starts opening up again as Lovell becomes home. // END TW

The Morgans decide that they like Lovell, and that they’re going to stay. They buy a nice house in a quiet neighborhood, with big trees for the kids to climb on. Ainsley breaks her leg falling out of one when she’s seven (she still has the scar on her knee from where a branch snagged). 

As the kids get older and start moving out of the house, Callum decides he needs a project. He’s always loved cooking and restaurants. So he decides to buy one. Calls it the Main Street Diner (not very creative, but it tells you right where it is!), and starts really integrating himself into the Lovell community.

Ainsley spends nearly every afternoon there, sitting at the corner of the counter after school. Her siblings are old enough to babysit, but they’ve hit their moody teenage phase, and Ainsley wants nothing to do with it. Her mom’s either teaching or grading papers or reading, and that’s boring to a nine-year-old. So diner it is.

She spends most of her time at the counter drawing or painting. Each one is proudly displayed on the wall, marking her progress over time. 

Sometimes she helps with little tasks, like sorting silverware or wiping down tables. Eventually, when she hits high school, she graduates to waiting tables to make some money of her own.

When it comes time to think about college, Ainsley decides she wants to go as far away from Lovell as possible. She knows everything and everyone in town - even some of the Radcliffe students who frequent the diner. Ainsley wants something new and interesting. 

She looks at schools in California, eventually gets accepted to UCLA. Ainsley packs her bags and flies across the country. She learns to miss the comforts of home, but enjoys the independence being on the other side of the continent gives her.

CANCER TW // Halfway through her first year at UCLA, Ainsley gets a call from her mom. Dad’s sick, she says. Cancer. 

Ainsley drops everything and moves back home. She takes a semester off of school to help take care of her dad while her mom continues teaching. He gets better, goes into remission, but there’s still the lingering fear that it’ll come back, that it’ll be worse, that she’ll lose him too. // CANCER TW

So she decides to transfer to Radcliffe. It’s local, in case anything happens, but she can still live in the dorms to keep some semblance of independence. And she gets to go for essentially free. She starts working at the diner again, to keep an eye on her dad, though she claims it’s just to make money. It’s a good set-up, for now.

— personality.

Ainsley is super artistic. Literally constantly drawing or writing or doing something creative. There’s usually paint somewhere on her clothes, regardless of how new the clothing is.

Also has this Thing against making her hobby her career, which is why she’s a computer sciences major rather than an arts major. She grew up watching her mom and dad turn their passions into their jobs, which seemed stressful and like it took some of the fun out of it. So she said no thanks.

She still really enjoys computers and coding - mainly web design. Hopes to become a full-time web designer after college, while throwing in some of the graphic design portions of web designing to sprinkle some of the artsy aspects of her personality.

Despite being a computer sciences major and pretty good with technology, she definitely prefers going analog in most of her life. Writes everything down rather than typing it into her phone or laptop, and goes through a million journals (also owns a million more blank ones).

This bitch definitely bullet journals.

Is a fairly organized person, but her room? An absolute mess. Ainsley says it’s an aesthetic mess (it’s not).

The only part she takes care of is the collection of plants on her windowsill. One of her notebooks is dedicated to their care schedule, and notes on how they’re doing.

Her bag is basically Mary Poppins’ tote, but make it a beat-up Fjallraven she bought during a 50% off sale three years ago. Has literally anything you could ever need in it. Paper, pens, snacks, water, first aid kit, you name it. Need some superglue or a needle and thread? Ask Ainsley.

Is simultaneously super indecisive and super stubborn. Will take a thousand years to decide on something, but once she’s picked it, she’s stuck on it. 

Will die on any hill she feels remotely attached to.

That being said, she’s not a super aggressive person. Is actually pretty calm, still quieter than she was before Tristan. The human equivalent of a warm blanket.

Also super gay. So so gay. 

(But she’s never been with a girl bc she’s got issues w feeling worthy of romantic attention!! Or any attention!!)

This bitch needs to go to therapy.

— wanted connections.

aka the part im so bad at

Where my Lovell locals at?

Friends - pls give this cinnamon roll ppl to fawn over she loves her friends !!

Enemies - idk if she’d think of them as an enemy but let ppl be mean to her so she can be kind of mean back

Crushes - either on her or ppl for her to crush on !! she will pine until the day she dies !!

idk what else im bad at this just love me and love Ainsley

[doctorgerth]

Contest Winner (Third Place)

Winner: @arkanfire

Prize Choice: Full NSFW Alphabet with any character

Description: Full NSFW Alphabet with Eustass Kid; female mentions and pronouns

Rating: 100% filth

Warnings: extra extra smutty, like, all the smut

Note: Sorry to post these prizes out of order! I have the one shot for second place winner a little over half way done, it’s just taking a bit longer because it is a one shot. I went ahead and worked on this today and it didn’t take very long so I wanted to go ahead and post it! Hat, I really hope you enjoy this, my love! It was really fun to write! I need a shower now... x 

Full NSFW Alphabet (Eustass Kid)

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

- Depending on if it's a one night stand or someone he truly loves, aftercare can actually vary

- With one night stands, he's pretty quick to tell them to get out, or quick to leave if he's at their place; he has no interest in cuddling or exchanging in pillow talk with someone he's never going to see again, let alone someone he doesn't really give two shits about

- With someone he loves, he's of course more inclined to stay; he's still not very cuddly as he usually gets really hot to the touch after his sessions so he'll ask his partner to stay on their side of the bed for a moment until he cools down

- he'll either grab a glass of water or perhaps some whiskey, and probably some food as well, not caring if he's walking around the place completely naked; if he's feeling particularly generous he'll ask them if they want anything while he rummages through the kitchen

- once he's ready, he'll allow his partner to cuddle him, usually he'll just lie on his back and let them cuddle up on his chest

- he doesn't really participate in much pillow talk as he's pretty quick to fall asleep after

- he'll pretty much always be honest and tell them if their session was good or bad, no matter who his partner was for the night

- cleanup is a bit messy as he usually leaves to clean himself off, measly throwing a towel or shirt or whatever at his partner to clean themselves

B = Bodypart (Their favorite body part of their's and also their partner's)

- he's of course mega proud about his cock, is anyone surprised?

- he's conquered many ladies with it, made quite a few cum all over it, what's not to be proud of?

- it fuels his ego immensely when a woman praises his cock, god he can't get enough of that

- he's also quite proud of his torso, how broad and toned it is; it's usually what wins the ladies over initially

- as for his favorite part on a woman? definitely the ass, everyone knows Kid is an ass man

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

- Kid's cum is a bit on the thicker side, really really sticky

- It's not the best tasting cum by any means, but it's not the worst

- Kid usually prefers to cum on his partner's ass or in their mouth, but he's really not picky as seeing his partner drenched in his cum is gonna excite him either way

- He actually has pretty good aim too, he's not really clumsy when shooting his seed, if you tell him not to get it in your hair he's pretty good at following your orders

- If his partner asks him to cum inside, he's honestly really turned on but also really terrified as he doesn't want any kids right now

- unless it's with a partner he really trusts, he'll usually just ignore them, pretending he didn't hear their request and jizz literally anywhere else

- his pull out game is immaculate; no babies for Eustass  

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- It's not much of a secret but it is dirty nonetheless: Kid loves anal sex

- Penetration, rimming, anything that can be done to the booty he's gonna do it because he just absolutely loves it

- The extra tightness, the view of the ass, the naughty sensation of doing anal just really turns him on so much

- He doesn't care how taboo it is, it's a thrill to him and he's gonna keep doing it

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

- Kid has a great amount of experience, but not nearly as much as he likes to put off

- He's had a handful of one night stands, some really great, some absolutely shitty, but by now he definitely knows his way around a woman

- He likes to be in control 99% of the time, so he'd of course need to know what he's doing in order to be the leader

- There's some gray areas where he's a bit unsure, so his partner needs to be able to explain it to him well to his understanding or he's not interested; sex isn't meant for trial and error, he's going to fuck you like he knows how to

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

- Literally any variation of Doggy Style

- it brings forth a sort of primal desire in his being when he gets to fuck someone from behind; there's so much power, so much carnal energy from taking a woman from behind

- bending a girl over and just pounding into them is definitely his favorite way to have sex; he'll usually grab fistfuls of their hair, or smack their ass until his hand prints are littered on their skin

- he's an ass man, so he needs to see that ass when he's fucking

- Reverse Cowgirl (in the rare instances he lets his woman top)

- Kid isn't totally against a woman topping him, if she knows what she's doing and just how he likes it, he'll let her take control

- it's just such a rare occasion for a woman to keep up with his pace while riding him, plus he gets frustrated with all the teasing so he usually throws them off and goes back to taking the reigns

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they more humorous)

- If you ever laughed at Kid while having sex with him, he'd get instantly pissy and probably storm out; the mood is just ruined for him in general

- Sex is no laughing matter; it's time for him to make the both of you feel good, chase after your respective highs, what's so funny about it? Are you saying he's doing so poorly he's making you laugh at him? No one laughs at Kid!

- He takes it way too personally honestly, and gets real butt hurt about it, so laughing during sex is a no go

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

- The carpet definitely matches the drapes

- His dark red pubes are insanely curly

- He honestly gets really frustrated with the shaving, he cuts himself like every time due to his impatience, so he doesn't really shave all too often

- He trims his hairs down when they get too wild for his liking, but that's about it

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

- Romantic? Yeah right

- Sex isn't romantic to him, he doesn't get the whole "emotional connection" that comes with it, so he doesn't see sex as a big deal really

- It's just two people trying to gain physical pleasure

- I can see him having "romantic" sex with the absolute love of his life if she asks him to, and obviously sex with someone he loves does mean something to him, but other than that, he's not very intimate in the bedroom  

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

- Kid has been whacking it since the age he first learned how to

- His masturbation habits may be a bit over the average Joe's, but he needs to release his anger and stress somehow

- He literally has no shame in where he masturbates, when the urge arises, he's gotta do it then and there; he'll usually just sneak off to the nearest private room

- Needless to say, Killer and the rest of the crew have walked in on him plenty of times

- If possible, he'd like to stare at some suggestive magazines or maybe a picture of his lover (if he had one), but his mind and hand really do all the work themselves

- Just like with sex, he curses a lot during the process and he's a bit loud when he cums

- He'll usually just jizz into his hand or a spare shirt or sock; the floor of his bedroom is full of cum clothes, smh

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

- Humiliation Play

- calling his partner a whore or a slut or whatever other degrading name really gets him going; the way they react to it, whether they moan in delight or growl in annoyance will always turn him on

- don't ever try to humiliate Kid in bed though, he'll get ticked off easily; he expects you to praise him, telling him how good he's fucking you

- Pain

- Kid is always a bit rough when it comes to sexy times; the pain felt or inflicted just sends an adrenaline rush through his body that ignites the sexual fires inside his veins, making for some intense, rowdy sex

- Choking, gagging, spanking, hair pulling, biting, etc. are all things he enjoys in the bedroom

- He's even okay with his partner slapping him around a bit, it doesn't ever hurt him, but it stings just enough to fuel that rush

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

- Kid could really care less where he has sex just as long as he's getting some

- From the most private quarters to the more public areas, he's gonna take his partner when he's in the mood (also with consent bc Kid believes in consent gdi)

- I'd say some of his favorite places are the bedroom, his study, public restrooms, and alleys

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

- The adrenaline after a fight always manages to make blood rush down to his member

- That victory after defeating someone/something or even the energy after a fight with his partner always makes him hot and heavy, eager to get nasty with them

- Seeing his partner either flustered from his teasing or pissed off from his antics also makes it easy to pop a boner

- Revealing clothing is a bit more difficult, as yes he enjoys seeing the more risque side of his partner, but he's also pissed to see them flaunting their stuff for everybody to see

- Either way, it's motivation nonetheless, whether it's motivation to praise their sexy body or motivation to punish them for being so scandalous; they're gonna end up having sex either way

- Public teasing is also another way to get him in the mood

- But let's be real, this boy is practically always in the mood

N = NO (Something they won't do, turn offs)

- Cuckolding or threesomes with another guy

- No other man is ever going to have the chance to fuck his woman, that is not okay in his books; his lover is his and only he can make them scream in pleasure

- Being submissive

- Kid doesn't have a single submissive bone in his body so don't expect him to bend for you

- Although he can appreciate a woman taking charge every now and then, he has to have the ability to regain control whenever he wants, so he's not really interested in being cuffed or tied up

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- Kid actually has a pretty short tongue, his clit game is ridiculous but as for eating out? it's not his best work really

- Due to this, plus his own selfish ways, he much prefers receiving than giving

- That won't stop him from asking his lover to come sit on his face though

- 69ing is probably his favorite way to do during oral, that or having his lover on their knees for him, sucking him off

- He loves some good face fucking, so be prepared for him to grab you by the hair and pound his dick into your mouth

- He won't deny that he loves the feeling of someone gagging on his cock, it makes him feel massive and he just basks in the feeling of them practically choking on his member

- Cumming in his partner's mouth is one of his fav ways to blow a load

- He finds it hot as hell if they swallow; watching them clean up and swallow his mess is always a gateway to some intense fucking

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

- Slow and sensual are words that just don't belong in Kid's sexual dictionary

- His pace is 99.9999% always going to be rough, relentless, and animalistic as that's just in his nature

- He needs a strong woman that can take his eager pace as he's never going to go easy on them

- His pace is roughest during quickies or when his partner has been teasing and tormenting him all day

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

- Quickies are definitely a thing with Kid, though they're not preferred like you would think

- Kid likes to give his all in everything he does, sex included, and you can't really do that with quickies so they're not his preference

- But he's definitely not opposed to them either, if a quickie is all he can get right now, it's a hell of a lot better than nothing so he'll take it

- Quickies are usually the roughest sex you'll get from Kid; as he usually just completely skips any kind of foreplay and jumps straight into pounding into you like a wild animal

- Up against the wall quickies are his favorite  

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

- Kid isn't really into experimenting; he's had his rounds, he knows what he likes and he knows what he's good at

- His sexual ways are enough to satisfy him, so he won't settle with a partner who expects more out of him

- I can see him willing to experiment with a partner he truly loves and trusts, but he'll probably complain the whole time lmao; and there's just certain things he'll definitely say no to, like pegging or golden showers or just weird things

- As for the taking risks, the idea of getting caught by someone while doing the do is a major turn on for him, so I'd say he enjoys taking those kinds of risks

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

- On a good day, Kid could probably go about 3 or 4 rounds

- Usually though, he makes his sessions long enough for them to be absolutely exhausted after, so just one more round to seal the deal is usual his go to

- Kid has impeccable stamina, and can last for a pretty long time to no one's surprise

- He knows when to quit it though as he can tell when his partner is getting exhausted; so typically, he'll go for however long his partner will allow him

- That's not to say it's impossible to make him cum because there are quite a few talents that can make him bust easily

- Blowjobs are an easy way to make him nut, especially if you can manage to deepthroat his cock; the sensation of someone gagging on his cock always brings him right to the edge

- Strict attention on his head will always make him cum quicker than usual as it's just so sensitive

- Kid never really lasts long during anal sex either as the extra tightness around his dick is just too much to handle

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

- Toys with Kid are a no go

- He owns a fleshlight, thanks to a gag gift from Heat, and he used it once but it wasn't nearly as good as his hand so it just kinda sits in his drawer

- If he can't bring himself pleasure from his own personal skill then there's something wrong

- With a partner, the same rule applies; if he can't make them scream his name and cum all over him with his own body and skills then he's not doing a great job

- He firmly believes they don't need toys to have good sex

- The furthest I can see him going are small toys he makes himself like maybe nipple clamps or something idk

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

- Kid isn't much of tease during sex as he likes to get straight to the point usually

- Most of the teasing happens beforehand like when Kid is trying to insinuate he's in the mood and he's trying to test to see if his partner is in the mood as well

- A lot of his teasing happens in public, whether it be groping, toying with her lady bits under a table, or slamming her against the wall and grinding his member against her, then just casually walking away

- He definitely knows what he's doing when teasing, as his actions pretty much always lead to a sexually frustrated partner that is more than eager for him when they get a chance to sneak away, begging him to fuck her

- He'll appreciate a partner who reciprocates this form of teasing but he doesn't like a teaser in the bedroom; he's way too impatient for that

- If you want really frustrated Kid sex (which hey you just might) then tease the hell out of him and he'll show you no mercy

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

- Kid is loud as fuck and he kinda hates it about himself because he of course wants to hear the moans from his partner rather than his own

- But between the cursing and the spanking and the grunts and the "Who's fucking you so good?" kind of chants, anyone within ear shot is gonna know what's going

- His voice is low, but he's just a naturally loud and boisterous man so of course his groans of pleasure are gonna be loud, like distant roars of rolling thunder

- He tends to curse and grunt a bit louder once reaching climax

W = Wild Card (Random headcanon)

- Kid finds it absolutely sexy to see his lipstick smeared all over his partner

- If the situation allows, he'll sneak away to apply some more on (he's always got it on him) just so he can smear the lipstick all over his partner's body, littering her skin with his red marks

- He might look a little ridiculous with smeared lipstick on his face, but he could care less as the markings on her body truly make her look divine

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants)

- His dick is pale just like the rest of him, but with a big, blush pink tip that's really sensitive

- I'd say he's about average size (for his height), probably about 6 inches or a lil less than that

- What he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; his dick is thicc af, and he's quite proud of the way he stretches women so well, but it's a bit painful for virgins or anal sex tbh

-  It has a couple of prominent veins, but other than that, it's really smooth

- slight curve upward

- more of a shower than a grower

- his balls are about average in comparison to his penis size (they're also really sensitive)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

- Way too fucking high lemme tell ya

- This man is a literal walking sex machine, ready to shove his dick into something literally any second of the day

- He's got so much built up anger and stress he needs to release, so he's like horny 100% of the time

- He honestly needs a partner that is ready to get it anytime and anywhere

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwords)

- Because his sessions are long and intense he's pretty quick to fall asleep after due to overexertion and the blissful feeling of coming down from his high

- He's pretty good about cleaning up before falling asleep, but honestly sometimes he just crashes right after rolling off of them

- He hardly cares about getting dressed before crashing, as I said before he gets really warm after sex, so he'll allow himself to cool off before rolling over and pulling his partner into him

- If he's staying with a stranger (very very rare) he'll just roll away from them and start snoring immediately

- With a loved one, he'll try his best to stay awake, talking about whatever they want, but sleep ultimately takes him within five minutes after sex

[kuronekonerochan]

Very messy thoughts about a very messy kdrama: Melting Me Softly

Overall:

I loved the premise...it looked like the kind of ridiculous over the top kdrama that could make for an interesting entertaining watch...unfortunately it is just badly executed. It doesn't know what it wants to be. The action syfy part is confusing, there is no emotional weigh over the tragedy of losing 20 years of life on the part of the Male Lead, although we feel it with the FL(who, by the way, is the only good part of the drama as far as acting goes, despite having little to work with), and even the jokes don't land because the supposed funny side characters are either too annoying and terrible people or they are too pathetic and I pity them instead of finding any of it funny (like the scenes with his family).

Melting me softly is a mess. Honestly with only just how all over the place the pilot was most ppl would have drop it then, but ji chang wook is soooo pretty and it's his comeback after military, still.... lord, is the drama bad. 

The syfy element is a mess, the characters are all shallow and unlikable in the few scenes we had with them so far (except the FL who seems nice enough but hasn't had that much to do yet).

The Characters:

 JCW is surprisingly unlikable for me and it's not even that he's the cliche jerk. Surprisingly it’s even worse because he’s just boring as a character. He’s not nice, but he doesn’t go out of his way to be cruel so that he can be redeemable later.

Nope, he’s just arrogant and entitled and he interacts with everyone mostly by casting judgmental side eye and being kind of uninterested in anyone else. Not in a charming megalo centric  way (like the Lead from What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim, who was a good person despite his ego), but in a dismissive everyday style that makes him all the more unlikable. What’s worse is that it’s even more evident with his family, who are problematic and a bit clingly and “golddigging/leaching” but still they seem to like each other enough in their own weird way. The lead though, treats his family coldly, like a disgusted spectator and it’s hard to watch. There is no chemistry between him and the rest of the cast because the character treats everyone like they’re not worthy of his respect.

That scene where the leads meet and she’s upset over losing 20 years of her life? -  I automatically went: *eyeroll Ugh, Men... It's not all about you everytime. You convinced her, effed up her life, own it and stop making excuses! The right thing to do is apologize and shut the f up!

The side characters, as I said are all either pathetic or terrible people, with the exception of the female lead’s family, who seem to be in a different, better acted drama. The shift in tone is jarring.

The Plot:

The plot is a complete mess and the main conflict so far is stupid. His producing team (that ended up convincing his gf) decided to hush things up in the past because outrage, audience ratings, yada yada and that's it! Yet it’s super confusing bc it seems like they are hiding what they did from him and scheming behind his back, while at the same time it's obvious he knows they threw him under the bus back them, so where’s the conflict? Also it's petty and the real villains involved with the cryoproject and the attack on the scientist are still just a vague concept that the drama clearly wont go into anytime soon, so it all seems like filler. 

To top it all, last episode's cliffhanger is about their previous romantic interests (who are now in their 40s) reconnecting when one of them is married and the other cover up the ML's disappearance, so it's all just more annoying filler I have no interest in watching...

The production design/ technical aspects:

The technical aspects are also bad, especially the editing...scenes are chopped off and put together and seem cut short or pointless. Time is also weird, they mix office scenes with home scenes from ML and random FL scenes without parallels and it's impossible to make out when the days start and end. It's been a while since I saw such messy execution from the production. Usually it's stuff like plot or characters or acting that bothers me, at most camera work, but here it really is the production as a whole. 

What I meant by parallels is that when you are starting to tell a narrative with two leads from their separate povs before they are onscreen together, there's usually an editing order:

Both leads wake up, both leads wander away. Ok so far. Both leads reconnect with family. Scene of FL at home with family followed by scene with ML with family. New day starts. Day 1: looking for answers: contacting the police, talking to the last ppl involved in the experience, etc. Sequencial scenes showing how each go about finding answers in their own way (the method helps to start establishing character and  personality differences between the leads). ML does that, but for some reason the FL doesn't?  (Maybe here a nightime scene each with the family to further develop feelings/angst and exposition of changes in family dinamics and events that happened while they were gone.) Next is trying to get back the life they left behind. Again, sequencial scenes of his workplace and in this case her university.

And with that we get the feeling a few days have passed and they went around on their parallel journeys. But here it's all jumbled and mashed together. He keeps talking to the people from his network in random chopped talks where it feels like he doesn't ask everything logically just so the drama can have another different scene with them later, he is home, his family is a mess but that isn't even edited in contrast to the scenes of her family for juxtaposition...and he seems to have more scenes than her and hers fall randomly out of nowhere and without logic. After being discharged from the hospital and talking to her family, why wouldn't her first reaction be trying to find him and ask what the hell happened? Instead she goes around, even returns to college before going to him?  The drama and the leads seem to walk around in circles without purpose. The transitions are also lowsy...usually all the driving in kdramas is too much but here it is lacking. The ML jumping around from the hospital, to the network, to the (most baffling) secret patient room where the scientist is without us knowing how he got there is distracting. Besides, those small driving scenes are important for character interaction and development: either with phone calls that allow us to see a more intimate side of the characters, how he takes things when nobody is watching, or with another person in the car communicating, or even just silent rides with body language and expression giving us a glimpse of their state of mind....  without any of this, by just appearing in places and doing things, the characters seem shallow and incomplete.

Minor complaints: 

They made the choice to make the 2nd Female lead kind of bitchy, greedy and backstabbing by having her agree to the cover up and her decision of not telling him immediately  what she had done now and apologize (when her younger self seemed much sweeter than that). I feel like the drama has barely begun and they already did her dirty by choosing to go that way with her character after her introduction on the pilot. Also, typecast of the actress playing her older self... she always plays a bitch (she's very good at it but I wanted to see her on a softer role). I wouldn’t mind  if this were a noona romance, since so far the leads have zero chemistry together. To be fair, there wasn’t any with the 2nd female lead, or JCW and any other character in a non romatic way either, in fact, except for the kid niece who actually seems to get a genuine reaction out of him.

 Plus we know from K2 that JCW and noonas have better chemistry ;)

At least I wish they had given her a better arc, for example, the girlfriend who was left behind, because of how it went down, never got over her love for him. They could have a romantic interest for her who she met after the lead was frozen, and the two had become very close over the years but she couldn't move on... they could give her closure so she'd finally realize in her heart how she felt about her own romantic interest without it being clouded with guilt and unresolved feelings for the lead. 

@kdramaxoxo

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

Hold On

Request: ... maybe smth more angsty like the twins fail a mission bc of a fuck up Jacob did and his sister dies bc of it. I'm a sucker for breaking families like this :") or maybe istead of evie it could be a s/o if you prefer to simply do reader inserts

Warnings: Real Bad Angst, Real Bad Violence, Read The Request, It’s just Real BadTM 

I’d rather do Reader Inserts plainly for the fact that it’s more immersive; that, and I do not want to make them both seem OOC, which is a tendency when dealing with two protagonists. I’m slightly thinking about a part two, but I’m not too sure. But anyway... Enjoy, friends!

Requested by Anonymous

"Hold on," you whispered with bated breath to Jacob, who was helping you to toss a giant crate of rigged dynamite off of a smuggler's boat in the middle of the Thames.

"I am..." he grunted, his muscles straining and aching under the weight of the objects. You both got to the front of the ship and threw the contraband overboard.

"Oi!" a voice scolded. You and Jacob shared a glance under your hoods.

"Time to leave!" said he, diving over the edge.

"At least we agree on one thing..." you mumbled to yourself, joining him in the nick of time.

The water was murky, and you didn't dare open your eyes until you got to the surface. The water's surface broke moments after you and Jacob inhaled the air as an anteater inhales ants. His cowl had slipped onto his shoulders (as did yours), and his hair stuck to his forehead. "Back to the train?" You suggested. You earned a dubious squint in response.

“What, no ‘race to the train’?”

 You laughed at him and paddled back with a bit more speed than necessary to shore.

Blighters trailed threateningly close to your carriage. Gunshots sailed past your head and you gripped tightly to the reigns of the horse. "Hold on!" Jacob cried from the roof, shooting his own bullets and darts and bombs and whatever else you could think of.

"I'm trying!" You responded, knuckles going white.

A Blighter pulled up alongside you, and instinctively you reached for your throwing knives, aiming for the horse's flank. Your aim was in the perfect place. Frantically, the horse galloped off down random alleyways and back streets.

"Get up here!" Jacob instructed. Hurriedly, you scampered up to the roof. He pulled you into him, muscles taut with stress, and shot a zip line to the nearest building. The sudden rush through the air made you cling on for dear life (as you had no control over where he was going) and you ended up safely on a balcony, watching the Blighters follow the carriage across a bridge.

"They didn't see us?" You queried.

"Let's not question it." Jacob pulled you over the rooftops find a way back to the hideout.

BOOM!

The factory exploded, sending fire, ash and embers storming up the wooden frames. You and Jacob were running across the rafters, aiming for a metal platform that had an open window behind it; your way out.

Jacob was quite a bit behind you, but you weren't leaving without the both of you accounted for. "Come on, Jacob!" You pressed, watching the flames belch into a monstrous cloud of smoke.

"Hold on a minute!" He retorted breathlessly, his wooden beam dangerously brittle. As he came closer, there was a crack beneath his feet. He paused, shocked.

"Run!"

He did as you suggested, sprinting over young flames. In a split second, there was an abrupt CRACK and the timber gave way beneath Jacob's feet. "No!" You sprinted forward as he hastily jumped, grasping for a stub protruding out of the platform. His fingers managed to grasp it, but the support was too weak and that too snapped like a twig. Jacob fell with it, a yell falling from his mouth.

"Jacob!" You peered over the edge and sighed thankfully as you saw him hanging from a flagpole sticking out of the wall.

"Little help... please?" He strained, adjusting his grip and swinging viciously over the acrobatic flames.

"Hold on!" He was too far down to reach by leaning over the railing. You observed a railing beside you, before an idea popped into your head.

As quick as a flash, you ripped your red scarf of cloth from around your waist and tied one end securely around the railing, whilst the other was wrapped around your palm.

Testing it for stability, you leaned over the edge and reached out your arm, slowly lowering yourself further and further. Jacob used the remainder of his sapped strength to pull himself up as much as he could to meet your hand. He grunted in effort and his viper like arm struck out to meet yours; it didn't register until you were tugged harshly by the added weight. You could tell his teeth were clenched and his jaw was set. 

"Whoa!" You breathed, regaining balance. Pulling yourself back slowly, Jacob reached out with a free hand to grab hold of the platform. You wriggled your fingers out of the cloth once you were safe and went back to help Jacob– this time with two hands.

Once you were on the platform, the two of you had no time to waste before it was to explode, and you fiddled with the knot of the cloth before just slicing it with your blade and sprinting out of there, both of you fully fatigued. Once you made it to a safe distance away on a flat roof, you fell to the ground beneath you.

"Well," you panted. "That was... something else." Jacob joined you on the floor.

"Thanks." He drew deep breathes in and out of his lungs.

"You're not going last next time," you stated.

"I wasn't... I won't..." he was struggling to find words, heaving his chest in and out. You laughed breathlessly.

The final showdown-- the three Musketeers (Assassins) against one bulked up Templar. And boy, he had it all: gear, skills, you name it, he had it.

The night was calm and still, unknowing of the blood that was supposed to be spilt tonight.

A frightening aspect of this mission was the fact that there were barely any Templars around him as you approached.

Feet as light as a feather and as quiet as a mouse, the three of you moved towards him from different routes. You came from the ground whilst Jacob and Evie came from two different directions on the buildings above.

The buildings gave you cover, and more than once came the decision to take cover against the wall. Checking to see if the clearing was empty of Templars, you made a move to cross; to get to the office. The rooftops in Jacob’s area should be clear of snipers by now. As if to prove your hypothosis, you saw a figure clad in black and green give you a thumbs up.

Perfect.

 Just as your foot stepped out into a brighter area, a loud gunshot rang out in the air.

You whipped yourself back around the wall and hit the floor, pain blossoming in your gut. 

Jacob signalled that he killed them all!

“Well, well, well.” A big brute of a man -- it was your target-- caught your neck, scraping your back against the coarse bricks until your toes couldn’t reach the floor. He squeezed, and it did not take long for you to start gasping. Your hands flew to his arm, weakly trying to pry him off.

“Assassins aren’t as observant as we thought they were, it seems.” 

Blood dripped out of your mouth. The effects of blood loss really beginning to sink in. 

“Why were you trying to kill me, Assassin?” A sharp pressure pressed against your already bleeding wound, and you let out a strangled whimper.

“I need an answer.” 

It was impossible to reply. 

“Guess you’re of no use to us, then.” You felt an electric type of shock on the hole in your gut, before a searing pain clutched your torso.

The brute had stabbed you with his knife, before twisting and removing it violently.

“NO!” A sudden reintroduction of gravity sent you back to the ground. Air flooded your lungs, and you coughed up the blood that had gathered in your throat. The brute and another figure were flown sideways and rolled away in opposite directions. A kukri slid slightly further away. As quick as a flash, the figure was up and straddling the brute and sheathing his serrated blade into his chest three times, each one more vicious than the last. He died almost instantly.

A single moment was all it took for the figure to be by your side. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered with urgency, cowl resting on his shoulders. “I’m so so sorry.” 

“Y-You gave me the s-signal, a-and...” you cried out weakly in pain, effectively cutting yourself off as you tried to move.

“I know; I’m so sorry.” He ripped off his sash and pressed it firmly against your wound. He shushed you when you yelped, tears flowing down your cheeks. He nestled your head against his shoulder, your upper body cradled in one arm.

“Evie!” His voice cracked as he yelled for backup. “EVIE!” There was urgency and emotion; a tone of life and death and hurry up, Evie.

“Jacob, what’s...” footsteps trailed off as Evie stared in shock, from her brother and best friend to the blood leaking brute. “Oh my God.”

“Get help!” 

“Who should I--”

“A doctor, a nurse, Henry, anyone!”

Flustered, Evie couldn’t help but freeze. 

“NOW, Evie!”

You whimpered at the sudden head throb the loud noise caused. You were quickly met with whispered apologies as the older twin set off sprinting.

“You n-need to leave before...” you took a few deeper breaths. “... b-before th’ Police...”

You got your point across. You didn’t have to say anymore.

“Don’t worry about that; just keep breathing for me.”

“B-Bullet...”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jacob pressed harder. “It h-hurts...”

“I know it hurts, I know.” His voice was soothing; reassuring to the point where you almost fully believed that you were going to get out of this alive. “If I can survive a burning factory, you can heal from a small scratch.” You gazed at his sad smile, his face framed with tears as he chuckled solemnly. 

“I’m scared, Jacob...”

He gripped you tighter. “There’s nothing to be scared about, love. I’ve got you, okay? Just, hold on for me.”

You tried to move your hand to grip his jacket, but your limbs felt numb.

“I can’t f-feel my legs...”

Worriedly, Jacob took in your complexion. Pale skin and sunken eyes. The only time he’s seen this expression is in the dying moments of his targets. 

“Evie’s coming, Y/N/N. You’ll be fine, alright? Just stay with me, okay?” He took one of your hands and pressed it against your wound with him. “Keep applying pressure.” He reached his arm over you to reach the ties on your robes; the tight clothing needed to go.

His neck came within inches of your nose, and you caught the scent of his leather coat; pine and pub-- a reminder of happier times. 

The quick loss of pressure to your torso made you hitch a breath. The pain seemed blossom further up your stomach. You felt your head lull back. 

“Hey.” Jacob snapped his fingers a few times to get your attention again. “Stay awake, love.”

“I d-don’t...” It quickly became harder for you to take in stable amounts of air. As a response, Jacob released some of the pressure to make it easier for you to breathe. 

“Hold on, Y/N/N. Please.” “Just take deep breaths with me, alright?”

The bleeding was slowing down, so he deemed it safe to take his hand off the wound in order to place one of yours on his chest. It was silent for a few moments as you regain the little composure you had left.

You didn’t want to die. 

“S-Shroud, Jake...” you gently closed your fingers against the fabric of his green lapel.

“What about it?” His hand returned to your wound once you calmed down. 

“Starrick has it.” His eyes widened beneath the long strands of his hair. You tried to shift into the warmth of his chest more, but ended up taking pained breaths, almost falling into another hyperventilating state. Instead, he pulled you closer, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on yours, tenderly soothing your cries with gentle shushing. His fingers clasped your hand tightly.

“You be good now, Jacob Frye.” You felt liquid drop onto your cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Y/N/N. So much.”

The atmosphere fell into thick silence once more. 

A minute more passed when Jacob’s ears heard a commotion in the street. His head shot up and his chest deflated in relief. “D’you hear that? Evie’s brought the whole cavalry with...” 

He cast his eyes down to meet yours. 

You stared at the sky, watching everything but nothing at the same time. He pushed a few strands away from your eyes, using his bloodied fingers to slowly close them. He placed one last kiss to your forehead, cradling your head in his hand. Not knowing what to say, he brought your knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft but firm kiss. 

Then he began to shake.

Sobs racked his body, wild yet quiet. 

Evie was too late, and he didn’t do it right. 

“Jacob, Y/N!” Evie and a nurse rounded the corner, but halted at the sight before them. 

“Oh, dear...” the nurse sighed sympathetically. Jacob sat up slightly straighter, but didn’t look up.

“It was all my fault.”

[jojosthetic-boogaloo]

Hello dear ❣️ can I have a regular match up? I’m a Brazilian girl, blonde hair and dark brown eyes, I have a nice butt 🌝 and I’m fairly short. I’m always cheerfull, but pretty insecure about myself. I’m a little stubborn sometimes bc I have a strong personality, I’m not afraid to fight over something I believe and I can be very loud about that 😂 I’m Taurus, I love to write, read and watch movies (addicted to Pixar) I’m caring and love physical contact, PDA++ (wait I have more info)

Sweet bean! As we talked in DMs, you get a moodboard of course! I really enjoy making them and it really doesn’t take more than an hour most times for me to arrange it, so don’t worry! I only feel bad since it takes more time and I keep you guys hanging for longer than I’d like to, but if you’re okay with waiting, you get a moodboard! 

Now, for your matchup! I had a bit of a hard time deciding on this. I mean, okay, I’m kinda lying, I instantly knew who to match you up with, but I did struggle a bit! Hence, behold and prepare for trouble, and make it double!

Translation: “Paris isn't the only place we can shoot off at, darling”

Whaaat? Dia, did you just make a combo moodboard? Well, yes I did you sexy beast. Why? Because I felt that both of them would complement you on a 50/50 ratio, each his own. So, if you’re into poli relationships, ahoy! If not, just one of them is good too, hope you enjoy my reasoning for each below!

Guido Mista!

You met by chance during one of his missions. You just so happened to almost make him miss his shot, if it were not because he’d pushed you to the side to avoid hurting you, that is. Let it be known, you were majorly pissed at first, and were about to yell at him every single insult you could think up. Then, noticing the gun in his hand and the fallen man on the far end of the street, you froze up. You really, really shouldn’t have come to this side of Naples this late in the afternoon.

When he’s done his job, he quickly turns to you, raising an eyebrow at how instead of running away in a panic, you’d just sat there on the ground, looking at him with a mix between anger and fear in your eyes. He caught on the situation, and immediately felt bad. He stepped closer to you, and you could feel nothing but your legs freeze, not allowing you to move. Was he going to kill you? What were you going to do now??

Surprisingly enough, he extended his hand towards you with the most handsome smile (well, you weren’t quite sure if it was the smile or his face overall) you’d ever seen and, carefully, extended yours to grab his, surprised by it’s warmth. Right now, you were truly thankful you’d taken your pills that day, otherwise you’d be grasping for air and curled in a ball right now. 

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good, maybe in shock?” You didn’t answer, maybe you were in shock, and Mista wasn’t happy with that, he got worried, helping you up carefully and holding you up by placing an arm around your shoulder so you wouldn’t plummet to the ground. “Listen, it’s late and I doubt there’s any place I can step in open right now, it’s a local holiday today, you know?” He commented, seemingly trying to balance his options while helping you walk alongside him.

“Fine.” You muttered, feeling your lungs work properly once again, your legs starting to keep up the pace by themselves again, yet there was a weird feeling of pressure in your chest and a weird, uncomfortable lightheaded sensation settling in your head. Maybe you were in fact in shock. You felt like screaming, but the pressure in your chest kept you from it. After all, you’d just seen someone get shot. And his oddly friendly and caring killer was helping you walk as you thought this.

“Listen.” He started, looking forward to make sure you didn’t trip with anything on your way. “It’s my job, I’m not just shooting people for fun, I want you to know that you’re not in any type of danger with me.” He continued, stealing a side glance to you, who seemed very focused on your walking and the pavement. He sighed at your silence. “I’m Guido Mista, you can just call me Mista though, if you want t- HEY!” The pressure in your chest increased, and you felt your body-weight plummet to the ground below your legs, you’d fainted. 

When you woke up, you scanned your surroundings, slowly but carefully trying to make out where you were. This was unfamiliar; a fancy, quite rustic living room laid before your eyes. You let out a quiet grunt when you tried to sit up, feeling your head spin and holding it with your hand. Slight rustling and a thud were the first things you heard in that deafening silence, turning your groggy gaze to the source only to find yourself with a cute, round tiger striped ass pointing your direction. It’s owner had tumbled over from the sofa before it, probably. But, you’d seen those pants before, had you not?

When the figure rose from the ground, you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the man from before. How was he there? Most importantly, where were you even?!

“Good morning, miss. It’s me, Mista, from last night.” He started, squatting before you so you’d meet his gaze, deep and sincere. He didn’t seem like a bad person, it was just that, last night... He started speaking again when he noticed your gaze falter from his face down onto the ground with a preoccupied frown. “I brought you here, you fainted on me and I didn’t know where else to take you. Bruno took good care of you, you’re all fine now! He told me you’d fainted due to severe stress and shock.” He paused, analyzing your expression. You were looking at him, but somehow, it felt like you weren’t really listening to him and were just spacing out. 

He looked down and bit the inside of his cheek, feeling terrible. He didn’t mean to fuck it up this bad by letting a civilian get involved in his business. And even more so if it was such a cute girl, who was in this state thanks to him. When he looked back up, he found himself with your open palm right onto his face, as you tragically shoved him and his ass touched the ground once more. Well, now he was confused. 

“You.” You started, still confused and sitting back up with tentative motions. You shook your head and looked around the room once more. Empty. Only Mista and you in there. Your fight or flight response activated. Looking back at the now tumbled over gunman, you saw him slowly rise up with both his hands at the sides of his head, in an apologetic, harmless gesture and with a dumb smile on his face. He did not expect that reaction, but it was honestly amusing, no one had dared to do that to him, if ever. “Yes?” He answered, slowly getting on his feet this time and looking at you, sitting on the sofa with a questioning look. “Where am I?” 

Your speech was shorter and calmer than you’d liked it to be, but that’s just how your body was willing to behave as of now. You felt tired. Looking straight into the man’s dark eyes, you noticed for the first time, at least with a clear mind. He really didn’t look bad, nor personality wise nor physically wise. You bit your lip and looked to the window behind him to his right. It was sunny, quite so, maybe it was lunchtime already. He cleared his throat and with a wave of his hand to bring your gaze back to him, he answered. “You’re at one of Naples’s Passione hideouts. Basically, our den.” Seeing how alarmed your expression got, he quickly waved his hands frantically before you, dismissing any threatening thoughts you might have gotten. “Don’t worry! We just treated you, you’re free to go now, well, we’ll have to drop you off somewhere so you don’t remember your way back here but, yeah. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?” You blurted out, finally feeling your speech come back to you. “You’re telling me that, after seeing a man get shot by a gangster, getting taken to a mafia hideout and spending the night, I’m just, magically, going to be set free and about like nothing happened?” Your tone rose bit by bit until it came out in a panicked squeal. He blinked a few times in silence, his mouth small in surprise. After a few short seconds of silence and a “uhhhhh” from Guido, he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah?” You were the one to blink a few times now, confused. 

“...Okay.” You muttered, rising from your seat and walking to the living room’s door with no established destination. Once you got to the door, it flung open before you, making you let out a shriek and almost falling on your butt onto the floor once more. It was a tall, long white haired man with the aspect of someone who could easily crush your head with his bare pinky finger. You slowly recoiled back, until your back was met with an obstacle; two black boots to be more specific. Mista’s. He held you from under your arms and helped you up. Still feeling the fear seep into your body, you pressed your back flush against Mista’s chest, who let out a surprised cough at the contact.

“Is it this little chick the one you frightened to death, Mista?” The tall man spoke, his voice just as low as you expected it to sound like, you brought your hands together and rested them before your lower stomach. You were scared, they were the mafia, of course you were getting like, murdered or some shit!

“Sadly, yes. I really, really didn’t mean to, signorina.” He lowered his face a bit in attempt to direct his last words to you, to which you reacted by turning your face in his direction and, instead of yelling, pressing your lips shut. He was... well, closer than you expected. Feeling heat rise to your face, you quickly turned your face to the man at the door, letting out a small, angry huff. You just really, really wanted it all to be over or to be a weird dream.

“It’s... okay.” You let out quietly. What?? You didn’t mean to say that, it wasn’t okay! You were outright terrified and scared, and by yourself with the god damn Italian mafia! No matter, after a quick glance to the man behind you, you felt a weird sense of relief and comfort when you saw his expression soften and a bright smile beaming down on you. You really couldn’t find normal people attractive, could you now. 

“Well, when you’re done flirting, the car is outside, we already gathered where you live so all you have to do is sit quietly on the back and not take your blind off. Understood?” The other man spoke, making you snap your head right back at him alarmed. You really didn’t even know how to react aside than with a reluctant nod. Great, now the mafia knew where you lived, wasn’t that just, grand.

You got blindfolded by the one you were most comfortable with, the one that actually sent your whole night upside down and made you get caught up in this but, no matter, the nicest one so far. Mista was careful not to get any of your hairs caught in the knot, gently guiding you into the back of the car, which you assumed was a mini van, and feeling slight weight sink next to you in the seat as the engine started up. 

With a tentative hand, you palmed the space next to you, trying to find whoever was sitting next to you, even if you already had an idea, you wanted to confirm it. And honestly, this felt scary, so you just really wanted some reassurance. “Hm?” You heard from the man, who almost immediately covered your curious hand with his bigger, warmer one and squeezed it with care. “Don’t worry, we’ll drop you off soon and you won’t have to hear from us ever again.” He whispered to you, and you felt his breath clash against your ear, making you shiver. Did you... really want to never hear from him again? The thought crossed your mind, and lingered there for the whole ride.

When the car stopped, you felt him take your blind off, revealing the inside of a black mini van to you, empty for the most part, and sitting next to you now tucking the dark cloth in his pocket, Mista. He turned to you again and gave you a sincere, wide smile. “Here’s your house bella. I’m sure you’ll be happy to never get involved in this again, huh?” He commented, as he got up and opened the sliding door of the van and signaled you to get down. “Don’t worry, I’ll accompany you to the door if it makes you feel better.” It wasn’t that you’d feel better. It was that something... didn’t sit right with you about this. 

When you made it to the entrance, you opened the front door with your keys with ease, turning back to face him once more with your hands behind your back. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow and a confused pout in his face. “Is something the matter?” He started. You were trying to find the words to express what you wanted to say. 

“Y/N.” You started, looking him right in the eye, which seemed to fluster him a little. He tilted his head in confusion for a moment before you proceeded. “That’s my name, Y/N.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by raising your index in front of him, he complied and kept his mouth shut. “I’d like to keep in contact with you so, here, have my number.” At this point, you really didn’t know what you were even doing, honestly. Giving your phone number to a member of the mafia had to be now crossed from your bucket list before you die, great!

He seemed to struggle to find his reply for a few seconds, these few seconds which you used to scribble down your number into a piece of clean tissue you’d ripped from your bag, and slapping it on his chest with maybe more force than necessary. He let out a small cough from the impact and started chuckling in response, grabbing the piece of frail paper and holding it over his heart with a smile on his face. “I’ll make sure to let you know when I get back to my phone then, miss.”

You couldn’t help but give him a smile of your own now, nodding and, after giving him a last look from head to toe, turning and finally stepping into your oh so dear apartment. Breathing in a deep much needed breath of air, you let yourself slowly sink down onto the floor while you used the door as support. When you touched the ground, you covered your face with your hands and let out a tiny scream. You were out of it. What’s the first thing you think of when held half captive by the mafia? Ask out one of it’s members because you think he’s cute. That’s it, you’d lost it, this was it.

You got up and decided to take a shower, taking your mind off things for a while and, inevitably, due to the intense distress your emotions had suffered for the past hours, you flopped down into your bed and fell asleep, not minding it being early in the afternoon.

When you woke up the next morning, you did not expect to wake up to three text messages from an unsaved number and for it to be already 1 in the afternoon. Checking the messages, you jumped from your bed and ran to the door, poorly fixing your hair on the way and thankful your door led to the apartment’s first floor hallway and not the street, you couldn’t have handled well being seen in this state.

“Hey! Guido Mista here, I hope you slept well and feel better today!”

“I’ll be out on errands today, so maybe you’d like to meet tomorrow since I’m free?” 

“Anyways, hope you like what’s on your door!”

You opened the door and saw a medium sized box laying on the floor. Upon squatting down and ripping it open easily by the adhesive tape, you noticed its contents with a delighted smile dancing on your lips. There was a small bouquet of pretty (although fake) flowers inside, a beautiful pair of shoes and a very nice looking summer dress. There was a small envelope inside, which you took in your hands and noticed a messily written “from Italy’s best gunslinger to Y/N” 

“Hello! Good morning, Y/N. I hope you like the gifts! I noticed your shoes had gotten a bit ruined from last night, as well as your clothes getting dirtied because of me. I had a friend of mine help out with choosing them out, she’s really into fashion so I hope it’s good for you! Pd: The flowers are fake since I don’t know if you’re allergic to them yet, so I hope we get to talk about it tomorrow!”

You pressed the surprisingly thoughtful letter to your chest and rummaged through the box with your free hand, noticing they’d gotten your size perfectly and how high end the clothes looked. They really went all out huh? Did you even deserve this? You didn’t give it much more thought after taking the items out and quickly running to try them out into your bathroom.

You loved the outfit! So you decided to pay him back in the most humble way you could, which was inviting him over for dinner though text. You could manage to cook something nice if you put your mind to it!

“Hi! Loved the gifts! Please, do come over tomorrow night for dinner, I’ll make you something nice as payback” Upon receiving this message, Mista immediately grabbed his phone even if it almost meant throwing down all his grocery bags onto the floor. Checking it, he felt heat rising to his cheeks, because of course he had to take your message the other way around first. Upon re-reading it and getting a clearer mind, he replied. “See ya tmrrow night then, bella.”

When the sun had just set the next day, you heard your doorbell ring. You’d put on his wonderful gifts for your outfit and carefully done your hair for the occasion, making your way to the door with a small smile playing on your lips, you opened it to find him standing there, in casual attire you hadn’t seen on him before. Those tight ripped jeans went well with his figure, and seeing his hair for once was a wonderful change.

The night went way better than you’d expected, with a few flirty comments here and there being exchanged between each other, you talked about your likes and dislikes, your lives, the music you liked... oh! The music you liked!

When you were done with dinner, Mista got up and walked up to your seat, holding out a hand for you while bowing reverently at you with a playful smile on his face. “Would you offer me a dance, signorina?”  You giggled, holding his hand only to be pulled into his arms and getting spun around in place while he laughed. When you got back on your feet, placing your hands on his chest and pushing his figure gently away from yours, you gave him a playful bow while holding your dress up by the sides and replied. “A minute, my dearest, for I must firstly play some sweet tunes.” He let out an amused snort and rested his back on the nearest wall, watching you make your way to your laptop and, knowing his tastes, playing one of your favorites from Whitney Houston. 

Making your way to him while dancing, he quickly beamed at you and, in two quick strides, he caught up to you, placing one hand on your hip and the other searching for your other hand.

While you danced and laughed like teens in love, with Whitney singing a very cheery “I wanna dance with somebody” in the background, you got to a point in which Mista’d spun you around and let you drop, holding you tight by your waist to avoid you actually falling. His other hand holding yours in his splayed to the side. 

Your faces were close, and your breathing clashed in a most wonderful way. He let his eyelids close halfway, giving you a tiny smirk as he gently placed his forehead in yours. You blushed, chuckling quietly at the gesture and placing the hand you previously had on his hip, up to the back of his head, gently tugging on his hair and brushing your lips with his. “Just do it already, Guido.” You heard him huff out a content “hmph” and promptly pressed his thick lips against yours, in a much more dedicated manner you’d expected from him.

From the moment he’d felt you kiss him back, and by the way he’d gently laid you down into the floor carefully, standing on his knees and slowly sliding one of his warm palms up on your thigh, you knew what was in store for the rest of the night. Ironically enough, Maneater had started playing when your dress was halfway lifted up, which made you both chuckle into each other’s lips.

Next morning, you can’t seem to find him anywhere, only to be surprised by him getting out of your shower and shyly smiling at you while looking somewhere close to the feet of the bed. “Good morning, tesoro.” He was so adorable it physically hurt you and made you hold a hand tightly to your chest. After he’d changed back into his clothes from yesterday and watched you change with an amused, flirty smile on his face, you both went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast before he had to leave for work.

You make breakfast together while Sweet Caroline plays, which ends up in you both dancing in the kitchen and almost letting the pancakes get burnt.

When it’s all done and ready, he departs from you with a kiss. “See you as soon as I’m allowed to, bella.” You both knew you’d meet up often in this manner from now on.

One day, while you chilled sitting in the balcony, he’d ask. “Hey, Y/N, not to like, ruin the moment but, are we like, dating or something like that?” You’d start laughing really loudly, getting up from your seat and sitting on his lap, planting a kiss to his lips and chuckling. “What do you think, dumbass.” He chuckled and kissed you back once more, giving a tiny nod in response. “Yeah, just needed the reassurance.”

When dating, he just really loves to show you off to absolutely everyone. He’ll pick you up and spin you around while showering you in kisses, kiss you while holding you in his arms, dramatic old style with one leg sticking out; in public or in private, this man is all about showering you with love.

When outside, he’s always holding your hand, or letting you cling to his arm, whatever that means you not leaving his side.

He’s really into going out and doing stuff! Get ready for lots of shopping with a very enthusiastic judge per boyfriend giving you a thumbs up and whistling with each outfit you try on. As well as beach activities in summer! He’ll buy you tickets for those boat rides that pull you from an inflatable and throw you into the water when they turn around. He lives for that sweet adrenaline with his girlfriend by his side.

The way you don’t bite your tongue and are so straightforward with your emotions and thoughts? Drives him wild. He lives for that clashing personality of yours, he even admits to have been turned on sometimes when you yelled at him for whatever he’d pulled; being either mixing his red pants with your white blouse in the washing machine, or not lowering the toilet seat after he’s done.

You’re so cute? So petite so adorable and so hot? How did he land this wonderful girlfriend?? He still asks himself this every morning he gets to wake up next to you, pulling you close into his arms and cuddling you until it’s time to inevitably get up and be productive.

This is the type of boyfriend to send you flowers every day he’s away and bring you breakfast when you’re together. The type to get over his fear of bugs and rid of the spiders and roaches for you. The type to try his best to make you lunch on weekends after letting you sleep in, only for it to turn out horrible and order your favorite takeout. A sweet, disaster type of boyfriend that loves you unconditionally. And that would stay by your side for as long as you’d let him.

Ghiaccio!

You’re one big challenge, and he likes himself a nice assiduous challenge once in a while, it amuses him, and that’s how you catch his eye at first. A smart, banter partner. 

Overtime and seeing how you retorted to his constant screaming and rage outbursts, he started to quiet a little, feeling how he’d met someone who would not back down even when they clashed with him. He started to like you, your strong personality was a rare thing to find nowadays.

He’s not really into PDA, but when you’re alone? He will and when I say he will I mean he w i l l have his hands all over you or just carry you around or hold you close just to be touching you constantly. He didn’t get much physical affection for a long time, and besides, you were warmer in comparison to him, your body heat felt most wonderful against his. 

As an expert butt lover connoisseur, he really wants to touch that wonderful cute round rear you have, one day describing it to you as “geometrical and biologically absolutely perfect”. He was kind of a dork, but you found it adorable no matter.

He’s very, very overprotective. That’s why he won’t let you come over to the office under absolutely no circumstances. What, letting his wonderful girlfriend come see him at the risk of getting bothered or even so much as talked to by his dumbass teammates? Not a chance!

He’ll never say the classic three words (I love you), but he’ll make sure to communicate it through his actions and small details here and there. “I was worried about you”, “I missed you”, “This made me think of you”, “You can have my last slice”, etc.

He really likes to wake you up in the middle of the night (which honestly, at first, irritates you, but you forgive him after) and suggest for you to hop on the car and go for a ride wherever, to have fun. Most times you’ll end up in an empty parking lot near the beach staring up at the starry sky and with his hands wrapped around your waist, as you comfortably sit in his lap and rest your head on his chest. 

On your sleepless nights, you’ll curl up together in the sofa and watch a marathon of Pixar movies, whilst he criticizes whatever flaw his analytic gaze finds. At first, just because that’s how he is, after a few sessions, he just did it as an excuse to get you to shut him up with those wonderful kisses you gave him, followed by a sweet “Shut up and watch the movie, caro mio.” 

He’ll read your writings when you offer him the opportunity sometimes. And, much to your surprise, he will never criticize them! He just reads them in silence, and when he’s done, he always says the same “It’s wonderful amore, you’re really talented.” And places a small kiss on the top of your nose as he volts back into his seat and types away on his keyboard once more. He’s always so overloaded with work it kind of saddens you, but still, he always makes some time for you, and you see that. You appreciate that greatly.

Get ready for late night conversations about the most variate topics. 

“Hey, do you think pigeons dream?” “Well, Y/N amore, it could be, due to the fact that pigeons do, like you; even if sometimes it’s not that clear, have a brain, and usually, brain owners do have the ability to dream.” “Did you just insult me and call me an airhead whilst debating if pigeons have the ability to dream?” “You know I say it out of love.” “Well, you’re ugly when you scowl.” “Excuse me wHAT-” You’d laugh and roll over in bed to hug him and bury your face on the crook of his neck, nuzzling your nose gently against it. “An eye for an eye.” He’d huff and blush slightly, holding you tenderly back and pressing his cheek on the top of your head. “Fair enough.”

[frostironstrange]

what about tony and loki together wanting stephen (i'm curious bc i've never seen that possibility explored before) ps: i loooove your blog when i first read "express" i went crazy bc i couldn't find any more content for frostironstrange thank you so much for giving us more!!!

Express is a wonderful fic and I’m so glad I can help provide content to support the other people who came out of it shipping this.

Tony had saw Loki. Had seen him before, but not seen him. Not until the moment where Loki stood, pouring all the magic from his body into the infinity stones to jumpstart them after Thanos’ death as Thor screamed at him not to do this. Not to leave him again. Loki’s very soul had been exposed as he pulled on the threads of the universe itself, all the pain and all the lies he’d had to live leading up to this moment. Then the stones took to the magic, and in a moment they pulled from Loki his very core. His essence. They ripped him to shreds and for one terrible moment Tony though Loki gone and dead and the universe doomed.

But then Loki had done what he had always done. What he had so much experience in doing. He’d pulled himself back together, piece by agonizing piece and forced the stones to his will, reminding them who had given them life again and taking control of them as if it was his birthright. Maybe it was. Others had borrowed power from the stones, but in that moment with the whole damn universe watching, Loki had controlled them. They could not consume him like they had those before him, they could only be consumed by him. 

It lasted a thousand years and hardly a few seconds, then Loki had pulled the universe itself around him and from it he pulled back all those who had been lost and returned them as if they had never left. Peter was by Tony’s side, the guardians were returned, but even more then that, Asgard was restored and those lost in New York, those lost in Tony’s failings with Ultron and those lost in the battle before were all back. Safe. Home again. 

And then Loki was falling, the stones and him both now used up once more. Tony’s suit was barely working but somehow it found the power for Tony to lunge forward. Somehow Tony had caught him.

That had been two years ago. Tony had caught Loki and he’d never really let go since then. After everything, after Thanos and the exhaustion of Loki’s very soul Loki had been adrift. He’d confessed to Tony a few nights after he awoke that he’d seen the future up until he used the stones for the second time and after that everything had gone black. He’d assumed that he’d die there, and now that he’d survived he didn’t really know what to do with himself. Tony had understood and offered him a place as an Avenger. From there, Tony set about helping Loki find his place in the universe again. It turns out it was a lot easier to take care of someone else then it was to take care of himself, and it gave him a purpose in life. As Loki recovered, he learned to take care of Tony in turn. They ate together, taking turns cooking each day, they fought together on the battlefield and in the political world and after about six months they began to sleep together. Nothing fiery and passionate per say, just a soft rhythm that pulsed through every aspect of their relationship. Everyone said it wouldn’t last. 

But two years later, there they were as strong as they ever were. They were just as in love as before, working together and living together and happy. Loki had a job of sorts now outside of the Avengers, he worked with Stephen helping out those that needed magical assistance. He loved the work, Stephen loved the help and Tony loved seeing Loki happy and active.

There was just one thing, one small problem. One flaw in everything going on.

Loki and Tony felt as if they were missing something. Or someone. Someone wearing a long red cape who was always far too busy and yet made time for the two of them. Someone who came by once a week to eat dinner with them along with the other avengers and superheros around. Someone who smiled rarely but lit up a room like fairy lights when he did so. 

Yeah, the both of them had it bad for Stephen. The issue was, neither could understand whether he was interested or not. Sometimes Stephen seemed eager to spend time with them. Sometimes Stephen seemed flighty, ready to run if he sensed the slightest disturbance and it was frustrating them. 

So Tony took matters into his own hands. He requested Stephen meet with him formally, booked out his own schedule and had him and Loki taken off the rooster for that time period and he made tea for the three of them. Stephen was nervous when he came, but not overly so, and he seemed to settle a bit when handed tea singling that nothing too bad was about to happen.

“So.” Stephen began. Ever to the point. 

“So.” Tony parroted, a light of mischief in his eyes that made Loki do that little half-laugh Tony loved so much. Stephen flashed him a grin too but waited for him to continue. 

“So, over these past few months, Loki and I have been trying to… babe what’s the word you used? Court? We’ve been trying to court you. I love that word because it’s such a regal way to describe us being dumbasses and pining after you with weird half-flirting. We’ve been getting weird signals and the both of us wanted to know if this was something you’re interested in or not.” Tony finished off, trying not to let himself fall into a ramble. Stephen was looking at Tony as if he were mad, then quickly switched his gaze to Loki, as if expecting this to be some sort of prank. 

Loki gave a slight nod to agree with what Tony had said, but otherwise remained silent, waiting for Stephen to make his choice. He seemed to seriously consider what Tony had said, before finally speaking.

“I was unsure of myself, at first I thought I must be misreading your signals and distanced myself from you both. But, I guess I must’ve been correct the first time around.” He paused, realizing that didn’t answer their request.

“I think. I think I am interested, though I’ve had little success with relationships in the past, and little time for them, I would be willing to do my best to make it work with the two of you if you would have me.” His voice was softer then normal, but firm. 

There was still a lot to discuss. Boundaries, arrangements, schedules, but Loki couldn’t resist reaching out to put his hand on Stephen’s cheek in a silent question. Stephen gave him a little nod and Loki leaned in to catch him in a quick, soft kiss. It was their very first, and much later, a few thousand years and a million kisses later Tony would still recall it as his very favorite of Loki and Stephen’s kisses.