#museums and antique stores

[magpie-to-the-morning]

Hmm, I need something to look forward to/plan for. I don't have any upcoming home improvement projects, trips, tattoos, piercings, or other events. I tried working on a five year plan but the only things I really want are 1) a fully remote job and 2) to find a life partner, both of which I guess I can work towards, but obviously can't control. And even if/when I achieve those goals... then what?

I love my house and don't want to move. I can't really afford to travel right now. So...?

[pooksbedamned]

I’ve never seen this much uranium glass in my life

The owner said his father never heard of Uranium glass or Vaseline glass before 1979

A customer asked if he had any… and a monster was born.

Vaseline glass (more yellow) and Green glass (more green) originated in Germany -1789- with the goal of producing colored glass. Uranium ore fit the bill

There were thousands of manufacturers all over the world in the early 1900’s and it was markets as fluorescent but probably nothing about radiation

It was a fad that peaked during 1890to the 1920’s

The wealthy would host dinner parties showing off their collections

Restrictions were put in place during WWII due to the government need of uranium ore (manhattan project )

[tamrielf]

i need to CHILL in a LIBRARY and then CHILL in an ANTIQUE STORE and then CHILL at a MUSEUM and then CHILL at a GRAVEYARD

[coyoteprince]

do you still do taxidermy? :]

Nah, though I still heavily respect, cherish, and seek it out via educational channels and natural history museums. I had a big nerd-out about the La Brea Tar Pits yesterday, in fact, especially finding out they have coyotes.

Anyway, had to stop a long time ago because my cool new disability started showing up. Taxidermy and tanning are intensely labor intensive, I just couldn't do it anymore. Being autistic also means I'm hyper sensitive to pain and cold (your hands tend to get extremely cold due to needing to keep specimens cold) which was another nail in the coffin.

I still keep osteological specimens and clean them, though. Still have the iron stomach to handle decomp smell and touch, too. Haven't taken in a new soul in a while, but I still hope a camel I can name Igore lands in my hands one day.

[hornyforpoetry]

Little hedonistic things to enjoy (Art Academia edition)

● sitting all day in art museums, sketching the paintings and writing analyzes and observations next to it;

● searching antique shops for old art albums and art theory books;

● looking through kiosks for various magazines to make collages;

● going through art stores and looking for all kinds of new and creative materials;

● doing a sketch study group where each participant imitates a pose from a famous artwork while the others draw it;

● making a wall to put pictures of all your favorite artists and pieces of art;

● staying up late to make your own colors and paper;

● making a collection of color shades and hanging them above the work table;

● analyzing color studies from Isaac Newton, Goethe or Johannes Itten and trying to put them into practice;

● sitting with the group of friends at the table and debating the importance, technique and quality of the great artists;

● going to crowded places like the subway, a park or a coffee shop and drawing people coming and going;

● writing imaginary stories and fanfictions about the secret lives of artists;

● spending hours looking for different interpretations in art for the same Greek myths;

● making illustrations for passages from favorite books and poems you have read;

● watching old DVDs about art, interviews with different contemporary artists, analysis of certain works of art.

[snowangeldotmp3]

'to the market'

(hello again, this is from another prompt requested by @fishwear ! i challenged myself to do all three prompts, so here's another! sorry it took so long heh, but i hope you enjoy, and thanks again for the prompt!)

32. markets x ronance - they go antiquing. nancy is obsessed with trying to hunt down valuables. she’s got her little antique pocket guide in her hands furiously checking stamps on china sets. meanwhile robin is having the time of her life to track down the ugliest, kitsch trinket in the whole store so she can annoy (amuse) nancy by displaying it proudly in their living room.

Robin was not a stranger to the many multitudes of Nancy Wheeler. After everything, nothing really surprised her about Nancy. Priss and a massive nerd. Badass and made Robin get rid of the spiders. Gorgeous and a gunslinger.

Serious Antiquing Nancy Wheeler, though, was something Robin can safely say she never expected.

Though it was quickly becoming her favorite.

It was adorable, the way Nancy was so passionate about it. And Robin had to admit, it was kind of fun.

(Mostly because Robin enjoys finding the most radioactive item in the antique store, keeping her own record of whatever she finds—Nancy refuses to let her bring it home—but that’s not the important part.)

What is important, is that Robin can say without a doubt, that antique malls were Nancy Wheeler’s favorite place in the world.

And specifically, the antique mall that was closest to their apartment. They’d been all over Boston, but nothing came close to this one. It was enormous, and Robin often found it hard to keep up with Nancy, who always had an open edition of Picker’s Pocket Guide and meticulously searched through every antique tea cup she could find. Robin’s job was usually to either hold Nancy’s guidebook, or use the black-light flashlight to search for radioactivity.

Which is the case for today. Nancy’s got her eye on another antique tea set, one that she’s been hunting for months now, bound and determined to find the damn things if it’s the last thing she does.

The stalls have changed since the last time they’d been there, new antiques (which is Robin’s favorite oxymoron now) from countless vendors all trying to get rid of all their old junk. Everything from dolls (creepy with a capital C) to paintings, old comics, and small clocks that Robin knows without a doubt have radium painted on the dial.

She is thankful, too, that it’s at least warm inside. The cold in Boston decided to have an extra bite to it today, and Robin maintains that they should’ve stopped for hot cocoa.

Nancy’s got her guidebook opened to the page she needs, hair tied up in a messy bun, bag thrown over her shoulder, and, most surprisingly, her glasses perched on her nose. It’s adorable. Nancy’s face scrunches up in thought, tongue darting out as she frantically writes something down in her book. She looks like a librarian, turtleneck under her lavender Emerson sweater and long skirt with pockets (Nancy’s favorite). She’s even tied her hair up with a matching lavender scrunchie.

Believe it or not, this is Nancy’s most casual look. She rarely wears her glasses out, but desperate times and all.

(It’s Robin’s favorite look. She only ever sees her this relaxed at home, and Robin’s mentally kicking herself for not bringing her Polaroid to get a picture of Nancy like this, in her element. Maybe some other time.)

“So,” Robin says, walking a half step behind Nancy to the first stall, “what teacup are we looking for? Is it even a teacup? Or is it another saucer?”

Nancy rolls her eyes as they find the wall of fine china. She searches for something in her tote, pushing her glasses up as they slide down her nose. “It’s a teacup this time, Robbie, I promise.” Nancy fishes a pen out of her bag, and then hands the book and pen to Robin with a small smile. “Hold this while I check the stamps on these? Please?”

And well, Robin can’t tell her ‘no’ when she’s got that spark in her eyes and that small, almost shy, smile.

Robin hums, tapping Nancy’s pen against her chin. “Well, I guess… since you asked so nicely.”

Nancy’s grin widens, stepping closer to give Robin a quick peck on her cheek. “Thank you,” she singsongs.

Robins rolls her eyes fondly as her face reddens. “Yeah, yeah. Anything for you, Nance.”

***

She should’ve expected that they’d be here all day. After all, Nancy was on a mission, and if it’s one thing Robin’s learned about being with Nancy, once she’s on a mission, she’s practically unstoppable.

Nancy had, after about an hour, released Robin to look at whatever she wanted, while Nancy continued to look at near-identical teacups. Though, Robin would’ve gladly stood there for another hour or two while Nancy searched for this mysterious cup.

Robin strolls down the stretch of stalls that are behind glass. Glassware, all with a faint greenish tint. Bingo.

Robin grabs the black-light from her jacket pocket, flicking it on and pointing it to the various bowls and vases, beaming the moment the stall lights up like a Christmas tree.

She steps closer, face close to the glass, but not too close. All this uranium glass in one spot is enough to create a hotspot.

One item in particular glows brighter than the others; a small bedside clock, shining a specific shade of radium green and for a moment, she really wishes Dustin were here with his Geiger counter, just to see how radioactive it is.

If Robin had to guess, the answer would be: extremely, given how bright the green is compared to the others.

She takes a cautious step back, away from the radioactive hotspot, taking out her own small notebook and jotting down the antique clock in her version of Nancy’s pocket guide and writes: Clock, Westclox, Big Ben. Radium. January 1989. Extremely radioactive.

Putting her notebook, pencil, and flashlight back into her pocket, Robin continues her stroll around the giant antique mall.

And then she spots it.

Like a cartoon, the clouds disappear just enough; the sun shining down on it, revealing itself in a holy light.

A stuffed opossum, wearing tiny sunglasses, holding a guitar in his tiny opossum paws.

Robin strides over to it and snatches it up, racing back to Nancy.

Nancy bumps into her halfway, eyebrows raised at Robin’s excited demeanor.

“Oh, hey Nance,” Robin says, a little out of breath, “didn’t see you there.” She shifts from foot to foot unconsciously, holding the stuffed opossum behind her back.

Nancy folds her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. “What do you have?”

Robin smiles. Nancy does not. Robin shows her the taxidermied opossum. “Nance, we have to take him home.”

“Absolutely not,” Nancy says, making a face. “Where would we even put him? The living room? The bedroom? I’m not sleeping in the same room as that.” She points at it, face twisted in disgust.

Robin pouts, if only a little, to make a point. “Please, Nance?” She begs, watching Nancy’s resolve crack, if only for a second. “I’ve already named him. Plus, I know the perfect spot for him! You won’t have to worry about him in our room, pinkie swear.”

Nancy’s face softens, another crack in her resolve, and Robin knows she’s won. Nancy huffs, pinching her the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But only if you help me look for this stupid cup again.”

“Deal,” Robin beams, “thank you, Nance,” she mimics Nancy’s singsong voice from earlier. She leans down, planting a kiss to Nancy’s cheek, reveling in the way pink dusts across her cheekbones.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nancy mutters, taking Robin’s free hand and intertwining it with her own. “Anything for you, Rob.”

***

“It’s perfect!”

“It’s hideous.”

Robin gasps, “He is not! He’s charming. He brings the room together!”

“I still can’t believe I let you bring that thing into our apartment.” Nancy wrinkles her nose, leaning further into Robin as they sit on the couch, sipping hot cocoa and taking in the marvel that is the guitar playing opossum in their living room.

“Believe it, babe. Besides, if not for me and Franklin here, you wouldn’t have found your precious cup.” Robin nods to the teacup, now preciously displayed on one of Nancy’s shelves, and crosses her arms, grinning smugly at Nancy,

Nancy rolls her eyes, lightly swatting Robin’s chest. “Shut up, Buckley.”

“Make me, Wheeler,” she teases, poking at Nancy’s shoulder. “I’d do it again, though. Help you get your special cups, it’s just so cute. I’ve seen you run a gaggle of newspaper nerds before, but I don’t know Nance, I think you could make it as a professional antique collector.” Robin pauses, considering, “Is that even a real thing? It could be. You could be the first.”

Nancy giggles into her cocoa. “I’m glad you say that, actually, Robbie, because there’s this one teacup that would match this one really well and I think—”

Robin groans, unable to think about fine china any more than she already has, but she meant what she said. She’d do it again. Just to see that brilliant look on Nancy’s face.

[charmcoindied]

like it's not that i Can't do things by myself obviously i have done that for many years it's just that it's so much more boring omg...... like yeah i love thrifting and stuff and i might still go out this week but it's so much more fun when you can see some ugly bobblehead and point and laugh at it with someone

[thetasteofsunshineonyourtongue]

*hua cheng cosplayer appears at your door*Trick or treat! Haunted ghost photo for the ghost king?

It is technically nearly 3 AM when I'm answering this, however it is always halloween in my heart, so here you are dearie! *Gives you a big handful of candy as well as this pair of photographs that I believe are a couple from the Edwardian era (1901-1910). I don't know if they're haunted, but they sure are staring into your soul*

[ufonaut]

i think i really am like a genuinely lame person. which is fine. but it's really hitting me lately that my idea of fun is nothing that could be even remotely understood as cool

[domesticated-whores]

actually having a full mental breakdown over canceled plans, lol

[plushie-lovey]

I wish I could take my plushies with me to cool places and take cute pictures of them there. Sadly I don't go out often, and on the very rare occasions when I go, its with friends who'd probably think I'm weird for toting around a plushie to [insert activity here]

[uniqueartisanconnoisseur]

Auction, Show, and Stops in Northern Illinois.

This weekend, we took a little trip up north, to northern, Illinois that is. Our first stop was a former Corn Museum that farmer Jim Brandt had on his rural Pearl City, Illinois farm. My husband Keith and I had the honor of checking out the late Mr. Brandt’s collection prior to it going to auction on May 25th. Rick Garnhart, Auctioneer of Pro-Auctions, who is holding his estate sale gave us a…

[malusokay]

little things to feel softer

Being kind to mean people

Teas with honey and sleeping early

A fun collection of cute mugs from little antique stores

Pearls and dainty jewellery

Buying flowers for yourself or a loved one, not just on special occasions.

being kind just because you want to, with no hidden motives, just genuine kindness

Reading and writing poetry

Self-care nights and long bubble baths

Going to the farmer's market to buy fresh fruits

No phone in the morning

Paying attention to the little things: changing seasons, moon phases, blooming flowers, etc...

Calm hobbies like painting, knitting, reading, baking

Matcha and tea over coffee

Being kind to stray animals and befriending them

Sending handwritten letters to your friends

Try cooking from scratch, make some jam, maybe attempt a sourdough... (nara smith my queen)

Flower prints and sundresses

Lacy tops and light colours

Taking time to appreciate art, listen to music, visit museums and art exhibitions, go to concerts, the theatre, cinema, etc..

Wearing only natural fabrics

Vanilla scented EVERYTHING

not sure how I feel about the title, but this all leans into the "softer/calmer life" thing; you guys get me lol. <3

As always, please feel free to share your own suggestions and tips in the comments!! ♡

love ya ･:*₊‧౨ৎ

[antiqealleyway]

(Part 1/2)

When going through a particular booth, I saw some wallets and began to look through them. I have been looking for a new wallet for a while, and wanted something that could keep photos.

I saw this particular black wallet and started to go through it when these papers fell out. Going through them, they appear to have belonged to a woman named Miss Genevieve Kniese.

Genevieve was a student of the Julliard School of Music, as seen by her certificate. She had lots of important dates to keep, and kept notes to remind her of dates and meetings in her wallet. She also kept photos of her loves ones in her wallet, as well as receipts, and little letters other people have written her. There is also one newspaper clipping that is dated 1935, suggesting she was very fond of music.

I believe Genevieve lost her wallet around 1944, which is the latest given date on her items.

The wallet is still for sale in the mall, and is $8.

(The rest of the notes and photos found in Genevieve's wallet is in the next post.)

[storagespyturtle]

[rangerbarbz]

Serving Up Romance pt. 3

Author's Note: guys this semester has been raw dogging me tbh. curse my damn zoology classes. anyways love being a woman in stem and I love Stan Pines. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO COME OUT IVE BEEN SO BUSY. ALSO I AM SO HONORED AND THANKFUL FOR ALL THE KIND RESPONSES YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO ME <3 (If there's typos my bad im running on like 2% capacity and horny)

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this eager to get home. The car ride back to your house was mainly spent in comfortable silence between you and Stan. That was alright, though. His hand was on your knee drawing lazy circles with his thumb while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was pure bliss. 

The radio then started to play a love song that you couldn’t remember the name of anymore. You smiled and began to sing along quietly, tapping to the beat of the song on Stan’s skin. You heard him chuckle. 

“Sorry, I’m doing a drum solo on your neck,” you joked, increasing the speed of your tapping. He grinned, still looking at the road. 

“S’alright.” He then looked over at you fondly. “I like your singing, by the way. Ya got a voice that matches your face” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“I don’t know about that, but thank you,” you replied. 

You soon saw the familiar opening of your driveway. Stan parked his Diablo behind your car. He then unbuckled his seatbelt at the speed of light and flung open his door. He jogged to the passenger side to open the door for you. He stood with his back straight like he was your bodyguard.

You giggled, stepping out of the car. “You’re real chivalrous, Pines,” you cooed, patting his cheek. 

He winked at you. “I did my homework.” 

“Well,” you stood on your tip-toes to whisper in his ear, “let’s see how you do on the final exam.” You swore you could feel the heat from his blush radiating off him. 

“Yes, well, I hope, I mean- I will pass,” he stammered as you took hold of his hand. You guided him up your front porch stairs to unlock the door. Once you were inside, you both began to kick your shoes off. “Nice digs you got here, doll. I especially like this thing.” He had walked over to your dining table while you were still unstrapping your sandals to pick up a clay structure you had found at an antique store. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was colorful and was a perfect centerpiece. 

You figured he was being sarcastic so you responded, “Aw, leave it alone!”

He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? I’m being serious. I like art. There’s a reason I’m banned at museums.” You laughed and threw your shoe on the floor. You crossed over to him as he continued to examine it to wrap yourself around his midsection. He hummed and set the piece down to caress your forearms. 

You kissed his back through the fabric of his button-up. “You wanna go to my room?” you asked softly. He turned around and swiftly picked you up, your legs hooking around his waist. Your eyes were as wide as saucers, face beginning to flush. His hands were digging into your thighs to support you; they felt rough against your soft flesh. 

“Where to, sweetheart?” he mumbled, planting kisses on your jawline. 

“L-last door on the right,” you squeaked. He started to walk carefully with you in his arms to your room before laying you down on your bed. His cheeks were tinged a light pink as his lips met yours once again. He kissed you firmly, his forearms bracing himself on either side of your head. You snaked your arms around his torso to pull him closer to you while your tongue slipped past his lips. He tasted like the cheap cigars he got from the Dusk-2-Dawn in town, but you needed to taste more of him. 

Your hands moved to his dark hair, entangling it in your fingers. You groaned as the kiss became more sloppy. His right hand dragged down the side of you, outlining your waist and hip and eventually stopping to grip the outside of your thigh. Stan then broke the kiss to take a look at you. Your makeup had been smudged and your hair was spilling out behind your head. You were a vision. 

“Fuck,” Stan groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. His finger slipped underneath the strap of your dress. “Can I take this off? Please?” His voice was dripping with lust as he kissed you gently on your cheek. Oh, shit was this really happening? You talked big game outside, but now that it got down to it, you were getting a little nervous. 

“Uh, yes. Let me get up real quick.” He rolled off of you to let you stand up, your back facing towards him. You began to unzip your dress, but it got stuck at the top of the zipper. 

“Oh, hold on, sweetheart. I got you.” Stan stood up to maneuver the slider so that it went down easier. You bit your lip to suppress the grin forming over something so domestic. “There we go,” he said, unzipping your dress the rest of the way. This was still Stan. You had nothing to be worried about. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, turning to face him. His eyebrows lifted as you let the dress fall from your shoulders and crumple on the shoulder. Both of you were blushing from the vulnerability of the situation. You stood before him in a lacy bra push-up bra and matching light pink panties. 

He swallowed hard. “I, wow,” he ran his hands through his hair and exhaled, “you’re…beautiful.” You gave him a wide smile. 

“Your turn now, handsome.” You kissed him and began to unbutton his shirt one by one while his hands slid down your back. His hands began to wander over your hips, waist, and down to your butt where he squeezed roughly. He swallowed the squeak you made by colliding his lips with yours. His shirt fell to the floor showing off a broad, hairy chest. You ran your fingers through the coarse hair before grasping onto his burly shoulders for balance. His teeth and tongue fought with yours while he sat on the edge of the bed, bringing you into his lap. 

“Fuck, you’re so soft,” Stan whispered, fumbling with the hook of your bra. You felt some light pressure as it came undone. He tossed it to the floor with the growing pile of clothes. His eyes then became transfixed on your breasts. You saw him swallow and his face turned an even deeper shade of red. 

“Are they okay?” you asked self-consciously. 

His eyes met yours immediately. “Okay?” He glanced back down at your breasts and the back at you. “Babe, they’re…” he shook his head, “they’re fucking smokin’.” Your laughter from his blunt compliment was cut off by a sharp inhale. His lips had latched on to your right nipple while he fondled the other breast vigorously. Your fingers weaved into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp, and his tongue swirling over your areola. 

“Stan…” you breathed, grinding down on the bulge in his blue jeans. He had started to repeat his same ministrations on your other nipple, giving it a gentle bite. You yelped; he looked up at you with that shit-eating grin that said Ha, I made you make that sound. He then pulled you to him as he laid his back against the comforter of your bed. 

“You mind if I take these off, doll?” Stan asked, tugging at the waistband of your panties. You grinned. 

“I don’t mind,” you replied. “What are you gonna do when they’re off?” 

Stan rolled his eyes playfully. “Not tellin’.” He carefully slid his panties over the globes of your ass. “That’ll ruin the surprise.” He suddenly flipped you over so that your positions were switched. He smirked at the surprised expression on your face. “Learned that from boxing,” he joked, now watching as he removed your panties the rest of the way. He licked his lips; the lacy material grazing your calf. He eventually set them at the end of the bed, eyes never leaving your molten core. 

“Stan?” you asked. His eyes darted to meet yours. His pupils were insanely dilated…Hungry even. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just… Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Would you mind if I…” his voice trailed off. He leaned down to peck at your kneecap. Oh.

“Oh, you mean, like oral?” you stammered. 

“I mean like eating you out,” Stan clarified. So you were right. 

“Y-you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t mind, but don’t you want me to take care of you?” To be honest, you weren’t used to guys putting you first. 

Stan frowned. “Toots, I have been thinking about your legs around my head all night. This is for me as much as it is for you.” You felt every part of your body heat up. 

“Oh, okay then. Yes, I think that would be very enjoyable,” you replied nervously, unsure of how to respond. Stan laughed before placing his hands at your thighs to gently part your legs further. 

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he murmured, head moving down to leave open-mouthed kisses up your leg. His hands were splayed on the outside of your thighs; his mouth was slowly inching to where you needed him most. Your breath shuddered, clutching the sheets to brace yourself for his touch. 

“So pretty,” Stan groaned, pressing his lips against your labia. You gasped at the contact, making him chuckle. “So wet for me, too.” His big hands moved to your hips while the tip of his tongue teased your slit. He then pulled you closer to his mouth to give your swollen clit the attention it needed so badly. He swirled his tongue around the bud carefully, the pads of his fingers sinking into your hips. 

“Oh, God,” you cried out. You quickly covered your mouth with the palms of both your hands out of embarrassment. 

“Uh, uh,” Stan chastised. He lifted his head to gently take your wrists and uncover your face. “I want to hear everything.” He then positioned your hands to the back of his head. “And don’t be afraid to take what you want, sweetheart.” Stan delved back into your cunt, not being as tender as he was before. He was fucking you with his tongue, tasting every bit of you that he could.

You gripped his hair and squeezed your thighs around his head. “Stan! Please,” you exclaimed, “don’t stop.” You were now grinding your clit against his strong nose, hips swiveling to their own accord. Stan sighed dreamily, using the flat of his tongue to lick a stripe up your pussy. You accidentally tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to let out what can only be described as a guttural whimper. That was the cause of your undoing. The build-up developing in your abdomen reached its peak by gushing onto Stan’s mouth and sending shockwaves through your body. 

When you came down from your high, Stan was laying there wide-eyed in awe of what he had just witnessed. “That…” he breathed, “was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He laid his head on your stomach and gave it a quick peck. “Ya know, if you’re up to it, I got a rubber in my-”

“Yes,” you interjected. “I need to feel you in me right now.” 

“Oh, alright. Hold on let me just,” he fumbled over his words, reaching into his pocket to reveal a worn leather wallet. He pulled out a square golden wrapper and ripped it open with his teeth. You crawled over to him to unbuckle his belt, kneeling at the end of the bed.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this,” you confessed, unzipping his pants and pulling them down. 

“Oh, fuck,” Stan groaned as you exposed his throbbing cock form his boxers. It was painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip. You wrapped your lips around it, sucking it slightly before dragging your tongue down his shaft. He threw his head back as you used your fingers to fondle his balls gently and take him further into your mouth. His fingers wove into the hair above your ear, cradling your head. You gazed up at him to see his face flushed and eyelids hooded. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not gonna last much longer like this, and I really want to feel ya,” Stan apologized. You nodded and removed your mouth from his cock so he could slide the condom on. You laid down on the bed and let him hover over you, lining himself up with your entrance. This was really happening.

“Okay, I’m about to put it in. Just, let me know if I hurt ya, okay? Let me know what feels good too,” Stan instructed lovingly. He caged your head in with his forearms and gave you a sweet kiss. You then felt pressure in your lower half of Stan entering you. You and Stan gasped in unison at the feeling. 

“Stan,” you breathed. “You feel…so good.” He started to move his hips back and forth, eyes studying your face and how it scrunched up in pleasure. 

“You do too, Y/N. Oh, God.” His pace began to pick up. He looked from side to side at your arms in search of something to anchor him. He interlocked your hands in his and put his head in the crook of your neck, grunting into your skin. It was so much. It was so sensual. He made you feel so beautiful. That familiar feeling was approaching as his hips slammed into yours. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and starting to shake. 

“I’m almost there, Stan.”

Stan’s eyes met yours, his hair a mess and sweat starting to bead at his temples. “Come on, baby, let me feel it. Give it to me,” he begged. Once again, his gruff voice was the cause of your intense orgasm. You screamed his name while he chased his own. His thrusts were no longer uniform but sloppy. 

You felt his body tense up and relax as he came. He pressed his forehead into the valley of your breasts and just breathed. You played with his hair absentmindedly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasms. 

He eventually pulled himself from you, making you feel empty. He went to the bathroom to toss the used condom and came back to hold you flush to his chest. He kissed along the shell of your ear and held you by your waist. 

“Breakfast is on me in the morning,” Stan whispered. “I’ll make you my special: Stancakes.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles as you shifted your body to face him. He was giving you a dopey smile. You planted a kiss on his nose. “Can’t wait.”

People who wanted to be tagged (i love y’all): @lucas1253 @vitality-falls @daniel-meyer-03 @marvelous-maniac @daisysinadarkmedow @lordbelkamort @mayhaps-nerd @ziragus