#peachy writes!

[peachy-posy]

Counting Steps (Vash the Stampede x Reader)

Summary: While traveling with Vash, you get a wound and decide to hide it from him.

A/N: Howdy! This is my first Trigun fic, please be nice hehe. This was originally written with Tri Stamp Vash in mind, but then it turned into me mixing him with 98 Vash, and so now we have this.

I'm considering making a little series about the reader and Vash because I am so whipped for this silly blonde man, the brain rot is insane. If that's something you'd be interested in lmk!

I hope you guys like it <3 ALSO this was cross-posted to my AO3

Warnings: Mild violence, mild blood/injury, fainting

Word Count: 2.5k

This was inspired by this quote from @creativepromptsforwriting: “When were you going to tell me you were bleeding? When you’re already dead?!”

98. 99. That’s another 100 steps. Start over.

You grit your teeth, clutching your side fiercely. Luckily, you are wearing black, so Vash hadn’t seen the sticky, dark stain appear. Your faithful traveling companion walks several paces ahead of you, leading the two of you to a nearby settlement. You couldn’t be that far away now, right? God, you hope not. 

You lose your footing, stumbling briefly before catching yourself. White hot pain shoots through your abdomen, and you can’t stop the hiss that slides out between your teeth. Fortunately, Vash doesn’t seem to be able to hear it over the sounds of the wind. A bead of sweat rolls down your face, and you pause, allowing yourself to pant for a moment. Not for long, though. You have to keep moving.

Counting your steps in increments of 100 has been your method of keeping yourself focused. It was a simple task, something to devote all of yourself to for the time being. If you could keep going, one step at a time, you knew you could make it to the town. 

17. 18. 19. That’s another 20.

Your mind wanders to the very situation that caused you to get an injury in the first place. What a mess today has been. 

You have been traveling with the infamous Vash the Stampede for months at this point. Shootouts and run-ins with bandits and bounty hunters made for another Tuesday. Usually, that was no problem for you guys. You knew your way around a gun and could certainly hold your own, so what the fuck happened today?

30. 31. 32.

The two of you had stopped at a small plant you’d come across while traveling in the desert, thinking it was a good chance to take a breather. Little did you know, you were walking right into a stick-up, with a small group of bandits robbing a family that had stopped there as well. You and Vash stepped in quickly to help, easily incapacitating the bandits. Vash’s attention readily became focused on helping out the family, noticing that the oldest child had gotten a gash on the head.

Allowing Vash to handle the damage control inside, you had stepped back outside to catch your breath. You walked over to the side of the building, leaning against it and resting in the shadow it produced. Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw movement. Apparently, there was another person involved that had slipped away. You sprung into action, running around the building to where you’d seen the figure disappear. After that, everything happened really fast.

The man was quick, and he lunged at you with startling speed. You were able to dodge the initial thrust of his knife towards your gut, but you didn’t sidestep fast enough, feeling the blade tear a gash into your side. The adrenaline in your system helped you to ignore the pain, and you whipped around, kicking the knife out of his hand and twisting his arm behind his back. Before he knew it, you had him pinned on the ground, arms pulled uncomfortably behind his back. Drawing your small revolver from its holster, you swiftly hit the back of his head with the grip, feeling his body go limp under you. 

After he passed out, the tension left your body and you leaned back with a sigh. It was at this point that you started to feel the sharp, stinging pain radiating from your side. Glancing down with a wince, you moved your jacket aside, laying your eyes on the gash that had been so generously given to you by your friend here. Because you wore your jacket open, it looked like it had blown out of the way and been spared by the blade. So, at the very least, you wouldn’t be spending the evening sewing the jacket up. Your body was a different story, unfortunately.

It was a small, but deep, clean cut. It wasn’t anything worse than what you’ve had before. But, it would definitely need some stitches. You were almost positive you could patch this up with the first aid kit inside. 

You released your jacket, heaving yourself off the ground with some effort, applying pressure to the wound. Once on your feet, you made your way back around front, finding the entrance to the small building. 

Vash was crouched, chatting to the teary-eyed children, calming them down with a practiced ease that came from many years of experience around kids. He smiled at them, and said something that drew a giggle from the children. Their parents watched from nearby with grateful smiles, eventually pulling him into a conversation with them as well. A soft smile formed on your lips, as it often did when you saw him have these types of interactions. 

Your pain brought you back down to reality though, and you grimaced. Your eyes scanned the room for the first aid kit, and you found it lying on a small table. You quietly walked over, and immediately grabbed some gauze to hold against the wound. You sifted through the contents, searching for the thread, knowing you definitely had some. It wasn’t until you remembered that one of the kids had gotten a cut to the head that you turned around, seeing the last of your thread stitched up in a wound already. Vash might be holding onto some more, but even if he were, it likely wouldn’t be enough. 

Well. Shit.

You faced away from everyone again, trying to think of what to do. You were less than half a day’s walk from the next town. You didn’t have any supplies other than some gauze that would help. Telling Vash would worry him, and he’d definitely want to carry you the rest of the way, even though you knew his prosthetic had been causing him soreness recently. 

You were just gonna have to suck it up and walk. You stuffed gauze into your pockets as discreetly as you could, before hearing your name called from behind you softly. You turned your head to the side, heart skipping a beat at seeing those gorgeous blue eyes gazing at you.

“Everything okay?” he asked quietly, concern creasing his brow. You wanted to reach out and smooth your fingers over it, not wanting him to worry about anything. 

Instead, you gave him a convincing smile. “Yeah. I found another guy outside. We should probably tie him up with the others before leaving.” The person running the plant assured you both that they would be fine while they waited for authorities to arrive to take the men away. You made sure your body was angled to where he couldn’t see your bloody hand or the gauze. 

He raised his eyebrows, surprised to have missed one, but ultimately nodded, letting you know he’d take care of it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mayfly. I’m getting sloppy!” he joked, and you’d giggled in reply, heart fluttering every time he called that. It was just friendly, of course. Because that’s all you were - friends.

That’s another 60 steps. Or was it 70?

You jam your eyes shut, breathing through the worsening pain. You sigh defeatedly. You ran out of gauze an hour ago. The bleeding has slowed, but not fully stopped. Not with all of the pulling from walking. At least the sun is starting to go down, giving you a break from this damned heat. 

You look up, seeing Vash’s back ahead, his red coat blowing gently in the wind. The distance is getting greater between the two of you. You’re starting to regret not filling him in about your situation. After noticing your silence not long into the walk, he’d asked once more if everything was all right. You smiled, told him you were fine, and that you’d tell him later tonight. He accepted that begrudgingly, giving you a Look, but had ultimately given you space.

You stop walking, your breathing uneven and heavy. Your vision wasn’t quite right either… had you really lost that much blood? The chill settling into your bones screams ‘yes’ at you. Vash is getting too far away. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You feel your body trembling, and you close your eyes, a dull ringing in your ears beginning. Your grip on the gauze pressed into your side is getting looser, but you’re starting to care less. It’s not like it’s working anyway.

You are startled out of your thoughts by the feeling of hands gripping your upper arms. You gasp, opening your eyes, struggling to get them to focus for a moment. Once they do, you see Vash in front of you. His mouth is moving, and he looks worried. Oh. They’re his hands, you note, glancing at his arms. 

The ringing in your ears subsides enough that you can hear his voice again. He’s calling your name.

“…you okay? What’s wrong?” He asks, searching your eyes.

“Huh?” You manage eloquently.

He sighs, closing his eyes, but he doesn’t let go of you. “You’ll be the death of me, Mayfly. What’s wrong?” He asks. “I know you said you’d tell me later, and, well, it’s technically later now, so…” he trails off, but his words have an expectant tone to them. This doesn’t really seem to be something he wants to budge on.

Not that you’re planning on withholding what’s happening at this point. You are almost certain you’ll pass out here soon. 

“Um…” you start, averting your gaze. Finally, he seems to notice the way you’re holding yourself. Specifically, the placement of your arm, tucked into your jacket. His expression shifts into something more knowing, and he seems to have caught on. 

He gently reaches down to pull your hand away so he can take a look, but as he does so, your knees buckle and you start a hard fall to the sandy ground. You shut your eyes, waiting for the impact that never comes, as you are wrapped up in a pair of strong arms before falling very far.

You are slowly lowered the rest of the way, and find yourself resting against Vash’s chest on the ground. He’s muttering something under his breath, and you’re murmuring an apology. He pulls your jacket back, sucking in a sharp breath when he sees the bloodied gauze.

“When were you going to tell me you’re bleeding? Once you were already dead?!” He asks, and yeah, you probably deserve that. He’s peeling back the gauze gingerly, scrutinizing the wound, concern etched into his gorgeous face. He’s talking, likely scolding you, but that annoying ringing in your ears is back, so you can’t hear him. You should not be thinking about how pretty he looks right now, but your vision is turning black and you don’t really care anymore. His head turns to face you, his eyes widening. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite identify.

 But everything feels heavy, and you are very tired. You slump into his chest, closing your eyes. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The next thing you know, you are lying in an uncomfortable bed, tucked into itchy, white sheets. You groan, taking in how dry your mouth is and how bad your side hurts. 

Oh yeah.

You open your eyes, sitting up with a gasp. You blink hard to clear your vision, but curl into yourself as pain shoots through your abdomen. You feel a set of familiar hands take you by the shoulders.

“Woah! Take it easy! Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You feel one of the hands move from your shoulder to rub your back soothingly, and you look up. Those beautiful blue eyes meet yours, relief flooding his features. Vash murmurs your name with a relieved smile.

“There you are. Are you okay?” He asks softly, gently pushing you to lay back down. You put up no resistance.

“Yeah, just a bit sore,” you manage, glancing down to your wound. You move your hand to touch it, applying pressure experimentally, but he moves your hand away, holding onto it instead. Like a worried friend, you remind yourself. You take a moment to glance around the clinical-looking room, and think you already know the answer, but ask anyway. “Where are we?”

His thumb moves slowly across your knuckles, just like a friend would do. In a friendly way. “The local clinic. We weren’t very far out of town when you passed out. I just brought you here right away. That was last night.” His expression shifts from soft to scolding, and he runs his other hand through his blonde hair. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that again!”

You offer a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Vash. We’d used the last of the thread for stitches on one of the children, and I thought I could tough it out.”

He stares at you, and you wilt a bit at his hurt expression. “Why wouldn’t you tell me though? We may not have been able to stitch you up right away, but I could have-“

“Carried me into town?” You finish, and he nods. You reach up, gingerly touching his prosthetic arm. His eyes widen slightly, not expecting your touch. “I know your arm has been bothering you lately, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

His expression softens endearingly once more at your reasoning, the look he’s giving you making you fall in love with him all over again. 

“Oh, Mayfly,” he murmurs, “let me decide what I can handle, okay? It wouldn’t have been so bad.”

You understand, but you also frown a bit at his words, raising an eyebrow at him. “But who looks after you? You have and would push yourself past every limit you have for the sake of someone else.” 

He sighs, but doesn’t deny what you say, either. “How about we work on compromising a bit? We’ll look after each other, and make sure we aren’t pushing ourselves too hard.”

You try to level him with a stare, but end up relenting with a sigh and a smile. “Fine.”

He smiles back at you, mirroring your tone. “Fine.” 

There’s a beat of silence, and it seems like something comes to his mind at that moment. His smile becomes something more like a smirk, and you regard him suspiciously. 

“What,” you deadpan, somewhat dreading whatever he has to say.

He props his elbows on your bed, resting his chin on his hands, leaning forward. 

“Nothing! I’m just flattered,” he replies, and you really, really don’t like the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“By…?” You ask, narrowing your eyes.

“I didn’t know you thought I was pretty.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. Of course you do. But you’d never just say that.

“Yeah, right.”

“No really! You said so yourself! Remember? Something like, ‘I should not be thinking about how pretty you look-’”

You choke, blushing furiously. Oh my god. Right before you passed out. You must’ve accidentally said that out loud, delirious.

 “I-I did not!” You sputter back, but you know it’s futile. He’s laughing too hard. You hate it, but even now, as he is laughing at you, you can’t help but love the sound of it. You’d do just about anything to keep him laughing and smiling like this.

He pokes your cheek, his laugh dying down. “For the record, I think you’re pretty too. ‘Specially when you’re blushing like this.”

Holy. Shit. 

Never mind. You wish you had bled out.

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀mad & mean | hk

⠀⠀⠀kai x fem!reader

genre ; smutty. easy as that.

warnings | tags ; manhandling; mad (not at reader tho) and a bit mean kai (he's a tease here too); once again kinda needy reader; longhaired kai which is a huge warning itself; probably ooc; i had more in mind while writing, but forgot :c

wordcount ; 1.4k (idk how it happened).

✉ notes ; firstly, colored italics are kai's thoughts. if it's hard to read, pls tell me, i'll make it just italics or italics + bold. secondly, the idea was born in the middle of drooling talking about the first photo in the banner with @biteyoubiteme, so you know where to send thanks ~

i hate coming up with titles i'll just be naming everything like kai#2 from now on

⠀⠀⠀[ masterlist is here ]

kai was mad. it’s not that he got mad often, but over time you learned that it was the final stage after going through stages of being upset. and though you rarely saw him truly angry, it was a safe bet that this was one of those times. when you rushed to the front door to greet him with a kiss the moment you heard the keys turning, he threw his already removed jacket somewhere on the floor, discarded his shoes, and threw you over his shoulder, locking the door with a free hand—all happening in mere seconds without even the tiniest word from him.

you really tried to ask him what happened as he clearly carried you to the bedroom—sweet kai who’s still there made sure to be careful around the turns—but he silenced all your questions with a light but unexpected slap to your butt, making you yelp and jerk. good thing he was holding you tight enough not to let you move even an inch on his shoulder.

until he shut the door—with a bit too much strength that it needed—and threw you on the bed, making you bounce slightly before composing yourself and crawling back a bit to give him space to join you. he didn’t though. unlike how it usually went, where he preferred you two to undress each other while making out, he just took everything in his hands that time, throwing his hoodie somewhere on the floor and staying in a simple white t-shirt.

it couldn’t last long, less than a second probably with how sharp he was with everything he did, but the image of him grabbing the t-shirt behind his neck, the way the already short sleeves went down to his shoulders to expose more of his arms, and the beautiful flex of his muscles, burned its way into your brain. and you realized you weren’t obsessed with him before—it was too light to call it an obsession compared to what you felt just now.

and you really thought kai wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. the way your breath hitched, the way you swallowed thickly, and how you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his arms. you were so cute, lying there almost awkwardly, frozen in the middle of crawling away to give him space, fascination with him shining so bright in your eyes.

somehow, the way you looked at him only made him want to torture you a bit more. his hair was always a pain when it came to having sex with him on top, sticking to his neck or—even worse—not sticking and tickling it annoyingly, part of it covering his eyes, so he always made sure it was tied back before things started.

sometimes he forgets, of course. it happens to everyone, doesn’t it? and when it happens, he has to ask you to do it for him while he’s pounding you into the sheets. you’re always so cute with your shaky hands trying to gather his hair to tie it up, half of it constantly leaving your palm with the way you’re being pushed up the bed by his thrusts. you fail more often than not, but every uncomfortable tug you do, and how ridiculous he looks after it are worth it, because he can see how much you struggle.

and he thought it was the worst he could do to you, but with the way you were looking at him right now, at his arms, shoulders, and chest, he realized he could do better—’better’ for him of course, not for you—maybe he should just sit with his back to the headboard, arms behind his head, making you do all the work if you’re already that desperate, and he was just standing near the bed?

no, he thought, today we will do it another way. but i do have something in mind for you.

he tugged the hair tie off his wrist with his teeth, and you could swear your soul left your body at the sight. if there ever was a chance of you looking at other men, there wasn’t one now, because you wanted to see what you’ve seen just now daily for the rest of your life, and no one else would be able to do it like kai. you needed to know what exactly made him like that, and if it was something bad, how to make him like that without anything bad.

he grabbed his hair in his palms, taking his time to make the neatest ponytail he could manage, arms and chest on full display as he was towering over you sprawled on the bed, thighs already rubbing against each other, trying to get at least some friction.

and kai was enjoying it far too much, fingers going through his bangs, pushing it back even though you both perfectly knew it was too short to be put into a ponytail, but you both also knew that his fingers and arms looked too good in that moment to just waste an opportunity to make you lose your mind a bit more.

you wanted him to never stop tying his hair and to be done with it already until you still had some sanity, shame and dignity left, because you felt like you’d start begging if it took him a few more seconds to finish.

kai wanted to take more time, wanted to make you beg, but he himself was so hard already, it almost hurt. he moved his hand to the waist of his jeans, making sure you were watching that hand, not the one that was holding his bangs back to open his forehead, and unbuttoned his jeans, easily but still slowly, to keep your eyes on his bulge for a bit longer, until he took the pull between his fingers and pulled it down just as slowly.

you whimpered his name, eyes going up to his, already much closer to begging than you were just mere seconds ago before that "performance". he looked just too good, half naked, jeans low on his hips and unzipped, bulge perfectly seen through the thin fabric of his boxers, and his hair in a ponytail he took so damn long to make.

you looked at him like he was a greek god, and kai found it hard to torture you even more, because it slowly turned into him torturing himself. you barely noticed how he managed to push his jeans down—god bless these damn wide jeans—and get on top of you, pressing you into the bed with all of his weight, lips immediately on your neck, one of the hands lifting your leg to his waist, sinking fingertips into your skin.

"kai—" your whimper was music to his ears, something closer to a song of a siren, and he couldn’t help himself but bite into your neck and grind his hips against yours, groaning. "kai, you’re— you’re mad. are you sure—"

he almost growled at that. does it—he ground his hips against yours harder—feel like i’m not sure? flashed in his mind, before he straightened up, towering over you.

you looked up at him with huge eyes, not completely sure what to expect from him. of course you weren’t scared, he would never do something you wouldn’t enjoy, and you had a safe word too, just in case he got too carried away—he was big after all, in all the ways, and sometimes he forgot how strong he was but now, towering over you, face straight, eyes hooded and looking into yours, he looked like you were in trouble.

after the endless—or at least, really long—staring contest, he grabbed your waist, fingers digging into the flesh, and turned you around on your stomach, almost throwing you on the bed. you still were trying to understand what happened, pushing your upper body up on your elbows turning your head to look at him over your shoulder, and he already had his knees on the sides of your thighs, pressing them together to fixate you under him the next moment. the look he gave you was enough for your arms to give in and make you fall back on the bed.

maybe i will make you ride me tonight though, kai thought, pulling your pants and underwear down. but at first i’ll make sure your legs won’t even let you sit up.

[peachie5000]

okay so the news about the series possibly having a future is huge but I also do really need to emphasize queerplatonic/aroace lapidot real

[naffeclipse]

Toying around with a sort of Apex Polarity spin involving Sun and Moon and having them as Arctic Fox type of creatures (think werewolf monster body types but fox style) and Y/N is an Arctic Hare-esque humanoid mythical being with white fur and long ears tipped in black. Of course, it's set in the Arctic tundra. Thinking of calling it Of Fox Maws.

You've seen the fox men before. They'll skirt the outsides of the large valley you like to go to gather arctic willow and sedge out of the snow. Their eyes glint in the harsh Arctic light, watching you. You warily tense your legs, always ready to bolt should the two fiends decide they're hungry enough to attempt to chase you down.

You can't trust foxes.

But you always skip away, out of sight and far from the terror of what could easily be your last day. This happens for a season. Sometimes, they attempt to creep closer in plain view but you turn tail and run, ducking behind snowy hills and hiding low until you're certain they're gone.

Once, you were caught off guard in the middle of your foraging. One voice called softly out to you. You jumped back and found the fox men too close, almost within lunging distance—your little heart fluttered as if to take flight and escape—but you ran and ran and ran until you couldn't breathe. Then, you look behind you.

The fox men were nowhere to be found.

One day, you're amid a rocky field of purple saxifrage, happily picking blossoms to toss in your mouth while twisting your long ears this way and that to listen in for any predators or creeping fox men that might try to break your little neck in their vulpine jaws. You never expected the teeth to come from the ground you placed your foot on. A snap of metal. A bone crack. You're bitten by something cold and terrible, and it chains you to the ground. Terrible pain eats your leg as blood, crimson among the snow and rocks, begins to drip down your fur.

You panic. Such is your nature. You thrash and struggle while the metal trap digs deeper into your leg. The safety of daylight begins to fade as exhaustion and fear begin to take hold, and then you see them. Their glinting eyes, their sharp ears narrowed, their fur white and strangely marked with colorful swirls on their underside, their claws scraping over the ground as they come closer and closer.

You cry it in your terror—you could always run before. They talk low and soft to you, one anxiously coaxing you to stop moving, to stop hurting yourself, but you tug and struggle in your wild franticness. The teeth keep biting your leg—you flounder before a set of arms catches you, pinning you down with strange gold and red fur on his chest that warms your deathly chilled body. You scream but another set of hands holds down your caught leg—this one with deep blue and silver swirls in the fur on his chest. You dissolve in the horror of the end that will come from too many jaws—

A musical steel note plays when he breaks the chain in half with his raw strength. You keep thrashing, struggling to get away, but the fox men are too strong, and the one holding you keeps asking you to stop being frightened—they only want to help. The other digs his dark claws into the metal trap and pries it apart as the other drags you out of reach of the contraption maw, and you cry from the pain of it all.

The two begin yipping and fussing. When they press their hands to the bleeding bite mark on your leg, the anguish overwhelms you until all you see is white, then nothing.

They become frantic at your slumped form and all the blood on your silky white fur. Sun takes to your wound and Moon takes you in his arms, and keeping pressure on the strange bite, they carry you back to their den. There, you'll be safe and warm, and there, they can help you with your broken leg.

Hopefully, you won't keep screaming when you wake up. (You will.)

[peachy-keenss]

this two foot tall demonic doll will make you his bitch!

[peachy-puddin-cup]

“She Still Is.” Moonflower Fic

Under the cut is a small Moonflower fic I wrote about Macaque taking Suki under the falls to see the ruins of the old stone palace, with a bonus sketch of the last moment by the pookie @aleiiii 💜

Enjoy!

“Macaque..Are we supposed to be here?” Suki asks as they walk in through the tunnel, leading to the ruins of the old stone palace.

The shadow monkey shrugs. “Probably not.” He yawned as he lead her in.

“This place looks so old..like really old..this Wukong’s old place?” She blinks.

“Yeah sorta kinda..” It was lore anyone would know about the monkey king had they just known that story, but it wasn’t just his home..it was their home. Not that she would have remembered.

“These stones are so smooth.” Suki whispered to herself, feeling the texture of the broken slabs of stone that once rose dozens of feet to sculpt high walls.

“Hm yeah they were.” Macaque shrugs.

Why did you bring her here you idiot!? If Wukong comes around you two are gonna fight and she’s gonna get upset. he thought to himself as he wondered around, but he couldn’t sense Wukong anywhere around here thankfully.

Suki continued to wander further into the structure that had not yet collapse.

“Hey wait up!” Macaque huffed as she wandered further.

“Oh my..” She whispered as she looked over the walls with faded murals.

“Oh..” Macaque mumbled to himself. This room.

Suki stopped at a small section of wall that was mostly covered in vines that she had to pull away to see what was there. “…Oh wow..she’s beautiful.” She whispered as she gazed at the portrait before her.

Macaque glanced over to where she had gone and he let out a soft sigh. The mural she was staring at was her..or at least what used to be her.

“Isn’t she beautiful..?” Suki glanced back to Macaque with a sparkling smile and a wag of her tail.

“Yeah..She was.” His gaze softened to her as he got closer to look at the mural, seeing how the colors had faded with weathering and sunlight. His gaze rested on her, marveling at the mural of her past self.

She still is. he smiled to himself.

[bunnyisintrouble]

I don't know how many more I can take 🥀❤️‍🩹

[bberetd]

= Miraculous Shelter =

It’s been a while since I’ve written a proper story, so I’ve decided to come out of retirement with my faves!

Thank you @peaches2217 for helping me out with writing, @vulpixfairy1985 for giving me inspiration from your drabbles, and @silenzahra for keeping me motivated ♥️ you’ll also see some elements from your bookworm hc post, and @itsavee4117 from your Luigi artist hc post ;)

@kelbreyworshipper @supergay-64 @pepperycar @pinkcreamypeach @wahooitsamee and anyone else, hope you enjoy!

Here are some doodles to go with it! The cake in the drawing is the one Luigi and Peach make for Daisy in the story, and then on the right, I was too lazy to draw the Toad-equivalents of Sarasaland (2 brain dead to come up with name) 😭 so imagine them looking like the children from the Grinch movie.

[neapolitanupsidedowncake]

how mha characters would propose! Or just ask you out on a first date? 💗💗💗 Also I love ur blog sm its so cute!

BNHA BOYS PROPOSING 💖 gn!reader 💌

content warning: fluff, multiple char. x reader, mentions of wine

DENKI

i think from the first month or so of your relationship together he was thinking "im so gonna marry them 💖" but waited about 4 years or so into dating

he's really nervous about proposing 🥺😭

he wanted to make it special for his precious bean 💞

he asked kirishima and sero to help give him tips 😂

on the day he decided to propose he came to your house early in the morning so he could take you to a nice valley range

you guys just hang out at like 5 in the morning alone on top the pretty little hill he chose just talking about your life and some interesting things you saw recently

when suddenly (he was waiting for the perfect sunrise moment) he told you to follow him then close your eyes

he took you to a flower field nearby, knelt down and pulled out a pretty ring box (😭🥺) tells you to open your eyes!!

and it's just the cutest and nicest thing you've ever seen, and he tells you he loves you so much and he wants to spend eternity with you forever and ever 💗💗

IZUKU

this man goes all out!! and on your anniversary too!

on the day of your third anniversary, izuku is so excited and nervous because he really wanted to make a proposal special for you, his adorable little bean &lt;;/3

he researched a LOT, and even finds out what knee to kneel on (left knee)

he dresses rather nice, debating for about thirty minutes with himself to dress more casually than a three piece suit, settling on wearing a beige sweater you gave him for his birthday.

he even asked his mom about tips, 💓 asking where some places would be nice to go to

he told you he wanted to meet at a shopping place for you to have some fun, then visit a park with pretty flowers

he takes you shopping for your anniversary gift for the day, and the whole time he holds your hand, thinking on how lucky he was to have you.

when it actually comes the time when you go to the park (the place he chose to propose) he's a little sweaty, nervous, and he fears you might just reject him

so when he suddenly, abruptly gets down on one knee (in his panic on his right knee), that wasn't his intention (he planned to do it in front of a pretty tree) but he's doing it

he's crying a little bit, and he starts off by saying that he loved you since he first talked to you in high school. he has a velvety ring box open, and he asks you "will you stay with me forever y/n?"

after you say yes, he's the happiest man in the world, crying, and he squeezes you in a tight hug 🥺💗💗 (in front of a park bench)

SHOTO

after about 3 years of dating, to propose, this guy makes a candlelight dinner for you two at your guys' house!!!!

fuyumi is so excited when she finds out because she LOVES you!!!

he asked his brother, natsuo if that was really cheesy or not, he said yeah, but he did it anyway.

he asked one of your friends secretly to take you out on the day he planned it all out, so it was a surprise for you

he made a meal you both liked, and he got fancy expensive candles and lit it with his fire a few minutes before you got home.

he even put some red rose petals around and on the table 💗💗

he makes sure to dress fancy, and for once even messes with his hair a little bit to make a nice style!

when your friend takes you home, you see the candlelight dinner, with the rose petals, and fancy wine and your soon to be fiancé in a nice suit 🥺💌

he walks you to the table and pulls your chair out for you (gentleman!!) and asks you how your day was with your friend.

you guys talk for a while, and after you both finish eating, he walks to your chair, kneels down, and pulls out an expensive looking ring box from his pocket.

in the soft candlelight, he says, "y/n, my love for you grows more and more every day, and I would be so lucky if you felt the same way. will you marry me?"

after you say yes, he fits the ring on you and decides to slow dance w you with some soft music in the back (🥺😭💗💗)

a/n: (lmao i think i changed the tense of the verbs like 3288432x but wtv lol) i like this prompt, it's really cute, and i love seeing cute proposals or hearing about them it's just too sweet yk? 🥺💖💖 i chose some of my favorite bois, i hope these reach your expectations anon!! so sorry for the long release date 😭

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen. Part Four

Hi guys!! I’m sorry for the wait! The next few chapters will be MASSIVE if I don’t split them up! And the plot is about to pick up for sure. Thank you all so, so much for all your encouragement and likes and comments, they make me so, so happy. And trust me things will spice up I promise 😈😈! 🥹 I love you guys, you are all the best!! Peachy Keen, Part Four 🍑✨

WORDS: 5,921

WARNINGS: NONE

“Ni-hona.”

The word coming from Quaritch's mouth is jumbled and slow as he struggles to pronounce it. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his hand waving in front of him in the correct gesture as he tries to speak.

“No, no, not ni-hona, nìhona.” You speak slowly, making sure to pronounce the syllables correctly. Your mouth twitches as you struggle not to smile. Really, it’s just ridiculous how charming this guy can be when he’s frustrated.

Quaritch’s scowl deepens as you correct him, but he begrudgingly repeats your speech pattern.

“Nìhona.”

You beam and clap your hands together twice in front of you, pride filling your chest. “Yes! It can be a little tricky to remember, but once you practice a little bit, you’ll be saying it in your sleep!”

Quaritch sits up straighter, and you definitely aren’t imagining the way his chest puffs out a little bit at your praise. His mouth quirks up slightly at the corners at your elated reaction.

“Honestly, I’m pretty surprised you got it so fast. I know it took me at least two weeks to learn what you learned in one week.” It isn't a lie. Quaritch had taken off with your lessons much faster than you could have ever expected, soaking up everything Na’vi related like an eager sponge. It was impressive, to say the least.

He snorts softly, crossing his massive arms over his chest. “What, you thought I wouldn’t be able to do it? This shit is easy as hell.”

This time you can’t help your giggle, and you aren’t imagining the way his golden eyes soften just a bit.

It’s a beautiful day as you sit across from one another in the courtyard, so close your knees almost brush together. The daylight is warm against your skin and dark hair, and it lights up Quaritch in front of you. It would be the perfect day if you could hear the sounds of insects and the breeze of trees around you, but the only thing you can hear is the constant cacophony of construction and hexbots at work in the distance. Even with that all that noise, there is almost nothing that could ruin your mood right now.

It's been two days since your conversation on the stairs, and you’d been so relieved when you’d met up the morning afterward and everything between you felt…surprisingly normal. You’d been worried that it would feel uncomfortable, or that something would have changed in how he interacted with you. To your relief, Quaritch had simply greeted you with his usual scowl before kicking your ass again.

You were just glad that your emotional moment with him hadn’t seemed to change anything.

You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply soaking in his presence. Your lesson time for the morning ended about fifteen minutes ago, but you just don’t want to leave yet. It seems Quaritch feels the same way, as he makes no move to get up. In fact, this is probably the longest time you’ve spent with him in silence.

It was nice to just be with someone, with no expectations or small talk.

Eventually, Quaritch shifts to stand, long legs pulling out from his seat on the floor to push himself up. You look up from your place on the ground to watch him rise, not even bothering to look away as he catches your gaze.

When he offers you a hand up, you grasp it without hesitation. He pulls you to your feet much more gently than in the past, and your hands linger together for a brief moment before you simultaneously let go.

That’s the one thing you've noticed that seems to have changed since the stairs. He's more gentle with his words and with his hits, less mean almost. He grabs things for you, and when you walk together he hovers a hand above the small of your back. He's almost hesitant to meet your eyes sometimes. It's a stark contrast to how he acted to you in the beginning, but you couldn't say you minded at all. In fact, his behavior now never failed to make your face burn and butterflies explode in your stomach. 

 “Well, Peach, this has been fun, but I got a meeting with my team in thirty. Those assholes are probably already loosin’ their minds waitin’. Jackasses can’t do shit without me.” He sneers, rolling his eyes derisively. 

You snicker. Quaritch definitely has an ego, but from the way you’ve seen his team hang onto his every word and order, he probably isn’t too far off the mark with that statement.

Quaritch grins briefly at your laugh, sharp fangs peeking out slightly. Even though you have your own set of sharp teeth now, seeing his never fails to make your stomach jolt. 

“Sounds about right, sir. Same time tomorrow?”

Quaritch falters so briefly that you wonder if you're imagining it. He opens his mouth slightly, as if to speak, before something flashes over his face and he closes it. His eyes move between yours and his tail flicks unsteadily behind him.

“Yeah, sweetheart. And make sure your scrawny ass isn’t late this time, alright? I don’t have all day to wait on you. I am actually important around here, you know.”

Your lips twitch, but you manage not to smile. You contort your face into something semi-serious, but your eyes and voice are clearly amused.

“Yes, sir!”

Quaritch rolls his eyes, his own mouth twitching. His long arm reaches across the distance between your bodies and he presses his hand briefly against the bare skin of your upper arm. The training you’ve been doing together has put some faint callouses on his hands, and they rub tenderly against your skin as he strokes a quick path. He does it quickly, as though it’s an action he doesn’t even realize he’s doing.

You’ve been in close proximity for months, training and talking and almost kissing, but your heart still races in your chest every time you touch. It’s embarrassing, really, the effect he has on you.

You gaze at each other for another long moment before he releases you and turns around.

You blow out a quiet breath as you watch him walk away and out of the yard, appreciating the view as you always do. At least this time you don’t have anything sharp in your hands. Just thinking about it makes your hand sting, even though the cut has long since healed.

You wander back to the Avatar sleeping center, taking your time and enjoying the light of the day. You certainly don't have much of anything to do once you are linked back into your human body.

Soon enough, though, you make it to the center. After you link back, you simply lay in the pod for a moment, staring up at the warm yellow lighting. You just can’t seem to get your body to move. 

Eventually, you’re able to find the motivation to rise from your position and open the pod. You swing your legs over the side and sit there for another minute, blearily rubbing your fists against your eyes to clear them. Your mouth feels a little fuzzy and your head has begun to throb sharply at your temples, but all in all, you feel fairly energetic. It’s much better than you felt when you first began linking.

You stand on your feet, turning this way and that to stretch out your lethargic muscles. Your stomach begins to growl hungrily, so you drearily make your way to the doors of the center just as Miss Hall strides through.

Her red hair is in its usual severe bun, slicked back and not a hair out of place. Everything about her looks as it usually does, but it’s her quick pace and the pleased expression on her face that takes you off guard.

“Nice morning, isn’t it, Miss Hall? How’s it going with-” you pause when Miss Hall’s head jerks toward you and an uncharacteristically enthusiastic smile appears on her face. In the time you’ve known her, you’ve never seen such a happy look from her before. It’s enough to make you hesitate in the doorway, startled. When the smile doesn’t fade from her mouth, something clicks in your mind and realization floods your body.

Is it…?

Your heart leaps into your throat when she answers your unasked question by nodding her head.

Ohmygod it’s time!

You quickly cover the remaining distance from her in a few brief seconds so you can either clap her shoulder, pull her into a hug, or do a celebratory dance. You aren’t even sure. Just as you’re lifting your arms to apparently pull her into a hug, she coughs and shoves her arm in between your bodies for a handshake.

Oh, right. Woops.

You lower your arms and stay a few feet away, respecting her choice for less physical contact. That didn’t stop you from squeezing her hand and giving it ten pumps up and down though.

“They actually agreed to let us head out? All of us? How far do we-?”

“We are allowed a maximum distance of ten miles from the tree line of the Kill Zone-"

You squeal and clap your hands, interrupting her sentence, but you just can’t help it.

“But only ten miles, no more, do you understand?” She gives you a stern look as she speaks. 

You nod your head franticly. Ten miles past the Kill Zone was so much further than you ever expected the RDA to allow your little group of newbies to head out on their first trip into the wilderness of Pandora. But you certainly weren’t fucking complaining! It's a dream come true, being able to travel that far so soon, and you are not going to ruin it.

You had spent the past two months developing the muscular tone and reflexes of your Avatar so you would be ready for the large amount of physical activity wandering around Pandora would require. Learning to fight from Quaritch of all people had undoubtedly helped in that goal; your Avatar had much better strength and speed now. 

And you wonder if this is what Quaritch felt like all the time, fast and powerful, so much bigger and better than everyone around him. If so, it’s no wonder he’s kind of a bully; sometimes even you got a little cocky with your newfound physical prowess, and you aren’t even half the asshole Quaritch liked to be sometimes.  

“Okay, okay, when do we leave?”

Tomorrow, tomorrow, say tomorrow!

“We’ll head out tomorrow morning, all five members of the second division.”

I might literally shit my pants right now.

Your mind races, your heart furiously pumping to keep up with all the exhilaration now surging through your blood and into your brain. You’re going to have to shower, have to pack, have to prepare the equipment that’ll come along, have to tell the group-

You gasp, lurching up from the chair you hadn't even realized you had drifted into, too consumed with your wild thoughts.

“I’ll go tell the group!” you almost shout, already halfway out the door before Miss Hall can even respond.

They’re going to be so excited!

If you had been bored to tears these last few months, Emma, James, Margot, and even David were all absolutely crazed by monotony at this point. With no Quaritch to lighten up their day, they’ve fallen into the same old routine of grey walls and mindlessly studying things they already reviewed years ago.

You race down the hallways. You bump into a few people but don't slow down to apologize properly, instead shouting a haphazard, “Sorry!” back at them as you continue on your way.

You turn a corner a few hallways from the break room too fast, and you crash face-first into the side of someone’s hard leg.

You bounce right off them, face throbbing angrily. You would have landed on your ass if a giant hand hadn’t shot out and grabbed your shoulder before you could fully tilt backward.

“Jesus Peach, where the hell you runnin’ off to so fast?”

You gasp lightly, lifting your wide eyes up, up, up until you meet Quaritch questioning golden ones.

You beam up at him, too buzzed to feel embarrassed about running into him like an excited toddler. He raises his eyebrow as he takes in your thrilled face, clearly curious as to what was tickling you. You're about to deliver the news when your eyes trail down his chest and you freeze.

There, against his green tank top and resting by his silver dog tags, is your pendant.

You stare at it, stunned. All thoughts of Pandora dissolve in your brain like mist. You barely refrain from gasping again.

While he had accepted your gift and hadn’t laughed straight in your face like you thought he might, you never actually believed he would wear something you had made, something so clearly sentimental.

Quaritch follows your startled eye line to his chest, blinking when he sees you gaping at the pendant. He raises his eyebrow questioningly again, scoffing while crossing his arms over his chest.

“What, Peach? You thought I wasn’t gonna wear it?” He sneers, looking almost defensive.

You stutter, mind struggling to catch up with everything that's happening. “W-Well, you just weren’t wearing it the past two days, sir. I just figured…”

He rolls his eyes derisively. “I needed to find a chain to put it on. Took me a few days.” He smirks at you. “Just couldn’t wait to see me wearin’ it, huh?”

You color a bit, lips thinning, but you refuse to rise to his teasing bait. You lean back and cross your own arms over your chest to match his stance. “No, sir, I’m just glad to see you liked it, that’s all.”

“Well, you made it, so. Anyway, what the hell has you running around here like your ass is on fire?" 

Your eyes soften as your limbs practically melt into the floor at his words. He was wearing it just because you made it?

You clear your throat, attempting to move onto Pandora and not focus on his surprisingly tender words. Even as you do, the sweet feeling of affection for Quaritch doesn’t leave, instead nesting deep and gently into your heart and bones. “Uh, Amanda said our group is now cleared by the higher-ups for fieldwork. My group and I leave tomorrow morning.”  

You snatch up Quaritch’s right hand resting by his side, the excitement of the news once again making its way through your veins and rejuvenating you. It takes both your hands to hold one of his, and even then they still look teeny tiny by his own massive one. You squeeze it as tightly as you can, which probably feels like nothing to him.

“Isn’t it amazing? We’ve been waiting months for this, not to mention the years we’ve been training and prepping, and I-” Your voice had been getting higher and higher as your excitement explodes like fireworks in your blood, and you drop his hand just as quickly as you had grabbed it to start clapping your hands together. You’re just about to start jumping up and down when Quaritch places an enormous hand on your shoulder to keep you still and interrupts you.

“You mean to tell me they already cleared your little group of pussycats for Pandora? Jesus, you think your team is really ready for that?” Despite his harsh words, the grip on your shoulder is gentle. He doesn’t look angry per se, more disbelieving and annoyed than anything.

Your childish excitement falters, your smile dropping a bit when you realize he has a point. You’ve struggled with remembering that Pandora isn’t a joke or something you can just waltz into half-cocked and hoping for the best. You were always too focused on the beautiful scientific possibilities, and you often forget just what Pandora really is; an unknown, hostile environment that will kill you if you let down your guard. Like Quaritch had said when you had first met him, Pandora would eat you alive if you weren’t careful.

You breathe in deeply, squaring your shoulders as your heart rate begins to calm. You’re still beyond thrilled about this, but Quaritch is right. This is not the time for you to slip off into your head like you usually do when you start overthinking things.

If you weren’t alert, focused, and mature about this, something awful could happen to you or to your friends, just because you were off galivanting around the forest. If someone you cared about got hurt because you were too distracted by pretty flowers, you would never forgive yourself. And with that thought in your head, you feel a spark of fear tighten your gut.

You swallow. “I - I know. But I really think that we’re ready for this, and it won’t be for more than a few hours-”

“I know you, Peach, and whether it’s for a minute or an hour, you like to get lost in that pretty lil’ head of yours and not pay attention.”

You wince, conceding. “I know, I know, but I will focus when I’m out there and I’ll do my job. This is what I came here for, what I’ve studied for. We’ll be in and out, just like that.”

You reach out hesitantly and slowly grab onto his hand once again. Your gentle touch seems to calm him a little bit, and his eyes lock onto yours. Your sure to any passerbys that your height difference must look extremely comical as you stand across from one another, but you don’t break eye contact to see if anyone’s looking.

“I’ll be okay, Quaritch. I promise I’ll pay attention and listen to every order. I’ll be back before you know it.”

The tension that had suddenly gripped him seems to flee him as quickly as it appeared. You’re about to relinquish your grip on his hand just as he tightens his gently. He squeezes your hand, clearly making sure to be careful with your fragile limb.

Something flashes across his face, gone before you can determine what it is. Determination, perhaps? Resolution? Whatever it is, you’re just glad he had pulled your head from your ass and given you the facts straight. If there was one thing you could rely on Quaritch to do, it was to give no bullshit.

“I’ll you in two days, Quaritch. I’ll be back before you know it!” You grin, trying to sound convincing. You’re not sure if it’s for him or for you.

You slowly let go of his hand again, giving it one last soft squeeze. You peer up at him as best you can at your height. Eventually, Quaritch nods once, a distant expression on his face. He takes a step back, putting some distance between you as he speaks.

“Guess I’ll see you soon, Peach.”

Your mouth twitches upward. “See you soon, sir.”

Quaritch nods one last time before he swiftly moves around you and continues on his path. You turn to watch him go, brows furrowed at his seemingly sullen mood.

It really won’t be that long, you reason. We’ll be able to continue our lessons soon, he won’t miss that much time.

You wander back toward the break room where you know your team will be, thoughts of Quaritch soon replaced by nervous excitement as you imagine your group's reaction to the news. As you step through the doors, you hear the tail end of an irritated discussion.

“ -alright, and I’m just saying that if they wanted to, they would totally have us moving in that direction - oh hey, girl!” Margot breaks off her sentence once she notices you standing in the doorway. Her face brightens up, grin spreading across her face. You don’t blame her; two months spent with just David and the lovebirds for company has made you a little crazy, too.

“I was just telling these three about how - ” Margot’s sentence cuts off as she takes a full look at your face. Her smile drops a bit, eyes flickering over your expression. You have no idea what you look like; probably nervous, delighted. It has to be a very strange look.

“What’s wrong, sugar? You look like you’re about to either pass out or dance, I can’t really tell. Why don’t you sit down-”

“We’ve been approved for Pandora.” Your words come out choked.

Everyone freezes, stunned. They gape at you from around the room. You’d all been expecting this, but it was one thing to wait for it and another thing entirely to have it happen. Just as you thought, your group is torn between the thrill of seeing Pandora in the flesh for the first time and the terror of being in a hostile environment.

The room sits in silence for a moment before Margot closes her mouth, swallows, and rasps, “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow, Miss Hall said.” You struggle to speak. Your mouth is dry from both excitement and dread.

They sit there for another moment, wrapping their minds around the news. Margot is the first to stand. She smiles, clearly enthusiastic, but her mouth is tight.

“Well. I guess we need to get packed, huh?”

------

When you make it back to your quarters that night, you spend at least two hours packing every single thing you think you might need in Pandora. You run around your room like a whirlwind, packing things into a bag and then unpacking them over and over again as you work yourself into a frenzy. Eventually, you send it off to be put in the center for when you link up. All the really important equipment is already in the Avatar center, but you still want to be prepared.

Your thoughts anxiously jump all over the place. Waiting for stressful situations has never been your strong suit.

You doze in and out of sleep restlessly, spending more time kicking off your covers and tossing and turning than you actually do resting. Blessedly, you’re able to grab a few hours of sleep once your mind stops running wild, but you know you’ll still be tired when your alarm clock goes off.

Once you wake up and the reality of the situation pumps energy through your veins, you get dressed and ready as fast as you can. Your fingers quiver slightly as you struggle to put on your tennis shoes.

You head down to the mess hall, squinting your eyes against the bright lights of the hallways. You snag a bagel and eat it as best you can, ignoring the way your stomach turns. By the time you eat it and make your way to the linking center, you’re practically sweating. Nerves are quickly making a complete mess of you.

Just as you enter through the doors, Margot leaps from her seat and hurtles her way toward you. You barely have time to open your arms before she’s crashing into you so hard that you take a step back, but you don’t hesitate even a second before wrapping your arms around her in turn.

You only hug her for less than five seconds, but by the time she releases her grip, you feel so, so much better. It feels like a sharp, heavy stone had been lifted off your chest and you can finally breathe. You hadn’t noticed how twisted your mood had turned, torn between excitement and fear.  

“Hey, girl.” Margot speaks in a rare, quiet voice. She looks how you feel; tired, thrilled, stressed. Her hair is slightly mussed and her face is a little pale, but you can’t imagine you look any better.

“Hey, Margot.” You give her as best of an encouraging smile as you can, even though it feels more like a grimace. She returns the look, and together you walk toward the table where the rest of the group is waiting.

Poor Emma looks like she’s a second away from puking, and James sits by her, rubbing a hand soothingly against her back. David is in the corner of the room, muttering to himself almost frantically as he obsessively wipes his glasses clean against his shirt.

You grimace at their state, but you feel a little glad that you aren’t the only one apprehensive about this trip. It’d be more worrisome if they weren’t acting like this, really. The last thing anyone needs is someone acting cocky and causing trouble on your first outing.

You take a seat just as Miss Hall comes through the doors, professionally put together as always. She scans the room in one quick glance, and once she realizes the whole team is here, she says,

“Alright, team. Let’s get started.”

You make sure to focus on the quick reminders, what the primary mission of your group is, and the process of the investigation. Your mind begs you to think about the future and everything that could go wrong, but you stubbornly keep your attention on the present.  

Three hours and many conversations later, it’s time to link up. You squeeze Margot’s hand one last time and share one last look before you shuffle over to the linking pod. It takes too many minutes to clear your frantic mind. Eventually, bright white and vibrant colors flash across your eyes, and then you’re waking up in the body of your Avatar.

You and the team get dressed in tense silence. Your clothes are different from the regular attire you wear around Bridgehead. Now you’re wearing dark green shorts and a beige crop top that is covered by a tan, long-sleeved open shirt made of thin fabric. Your long dark hair is pulled back and covered by a bandana. You wear shoes for once, sturdy boots and socks that will help you walk on the slick forest floor.

Most of the supplies for Pandora exploration stays in a separate part of the Avatar center, and for the first time since arriving on on this planet, you actually get to use it. Holotablets preloaded with specific data, vests, comm links, backpacks filled with equipment. Everything that could possibly be needed for exploration and data collection is here.

It’s a scientist’s wet dream.

You pack quickly, fussing and triple checking everything before it’s time to leave the center.

Your group makes its way across Bridgehead toward the utility aircraft section of the city. Your tail waves nervously behind you as you walk, and it almost hits a tiny passing military man as you wander too close into his personal space. He shouts at you, glaring, and you only spare him an apologetic glance and a squeaky shout of “Sorry!” before you keep walking. You don’t have time to do anything else.  

The loud noise of people and machines does nothing to calm your nerves, and your sensitive ears frantically flick with the amount of deafening pandemonium that assaults your senses.

It doesn’t get any better as you walk. When you reach the launching pads, the shrieking of the SA-2 Samson aircraft makes you want to cover your ears and cower. You’re grimacing fiercely as you walk closer to the pad, and you can see the rest of your group doing the same. When you see it waiting, the nerves return full force. Your stomach turns and a cold sweat breaks out across your skin.

Don’t puke, don’t puke, Jesus Christ.

“Get on!” Miss Hall shouts as best she can over the howling. The other members go first, stepping up and into the large carrier. The whirring of the blades causes your hair to whip wildly over your face, blocking your view, and you try not trip on your feet as you pull yourself onto the craft after James. He turns around after he finds his footing again and gives you a hand up. Once you stand inside, you quickly take off your backpack and find a seat.

Miss Hall is the last one to climb in, hands full of the light, protective vests that are now required by the RDA. She hands them out to everyone and you grip yours tightly as you take it from her, knuckles white. You hold it your hands uncertaintly; you’d watched training videos on how to put the thing on and how to properly buckle it up, but now that you’re here your mind is going blank.

You shake your head in an effort to reorganize your thoughts, but the shrieking and the wind make it an almost impossible task. You sit up from your seat a bit to put the vest on over your shoulders.

Miss Hall finishes her conversation with the pilot and makes her way steadily over to your seats.

“Everyone ready?!” She shouts. Her eyes are a bright yellow, hair finally ruffled. She has a wide, encouraging smile on her face, and you distantly realize that this is the most genuine you’ve ever seen her.

She opens her grinning mouth to shout again before something seems to catch her attention. She looks out the open side of the carrier, eyebrows furrowing after a second. You follow her gaze, curious to see what made such an expression.

For a brief moment, you aren’t really sure if what you’re seeing is real.

Holy fucking shit! Is that Quaritch?!

Indeed, striding toward your aircraft, flanked by Z-Dog and Lopez, is Quaritch.

It feels as though someone has shocked you with a taser. You lurch up in your seat, gasping, eyes wide and mouth open as you stare at Quaritch’s intimidating form. Your heart thunders in your chest from both surprise and excitement.

Is he coming with us!?

The thought fills you with giddiness and you eagerly watch as he gets closer to the aircraft. As he nears you can see his hard and serious expression, as well as his new getup. He’s wearing dark green army vest covered in pockets, the thick straps resting against his broad shoulders. A black comm link that matches your own is around his throat. He holds a massive gun strapped across his chest next to his usual breathing mask. He walks like he owns Bridgehead, sneer firmly in place as he towers over even his team members. From this angle you can see his blue skin glowing in the daylight and his tail flicking irritably behind him.

You don’t realize you’re gawking at him until your mouth begins to dry. You snap it closed, suddenly breathless.

Soon enough, a large blue hand wraps around the opening to the carrier and Quaritch’s massive body lifts itself through. Your seat is right next to the large opening, so when Quaritch enters his shoulder brushes against the bare skin of your knees as he pulls himself up.

You're out of your seat before you realize it, hand reaching out to grab onto Quaritch’s massive bicep. He jerks a little bit when he realizes he’s being touched, glower firmly on his face when he turns to see who’s doing the touching. His expression settles when he realizes it’s you, face brightening as his sneer turns into a mocking smirk at your shocked face.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” You shout over the engine and wind, leaning close until your face is right next to his shoulder. You almost have to press your body to his so he can hear you. He leans down over you, putting his face close to yours as he shouts back. His golden eyes lock onto yours.

“What, Peach, you think I was going to let your scrawny ass get yourself killed out there!? God knows you wouldn’t last a second in Pandora without me watching your dumbass! What would everyone think if someone I was training died on their first time out?”

You beam at him, too happy to care about his slightly insulting words. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here!” You shout as loudly as you can.

He seems briefly surprised by your joy before his smirk turns cocky. “I bet you are, Peach!”

You scoff and daringly wack him lightly on the arm just as Z-Dog and Lopez pull themselves into the carrier. Z-Dog raises an eyebrow at Quaritch’s close position to you, her smirk growing mocking as she pops her bright pink bubblegum. Her expression schools itself into something more neutral when Quaritch turns to shout instructions at her, but you can still see the amusement in her eyes. Lopez remains silent beside her, hands holding his gun close to his chest. He nods when you make eye contact with him.

They turn to take a seat near your group, eyeing your team members distastefully. It seems like Quaritch wasn’t the only Recom member who dislikes scientists.

You grip Quaritch’s forearm and lead him toward the empty seat next to yours. You push your backpack off to the side to make room for your feet and take a seat. Quaritch places himself next to you, close enough that your thigh presses tightly against his. It makes your body buzz.

The whirring of the engine begins to scream even louder as it prepares to take off and you wince. Your hands bring themselves up until they’re pressed tightly against your ears. It only muffles the sound slightly.

Quaritch scowls when he sees you wince, golden eyes tightening around the corners and mouth thinning. He leans in close again to say something, and you tilt your head closer to hear. Your hair brushes against the bare skin of his arm.

“The loud noises will get better!” He shouts, nodding when you look at him. You nod back, immensely relieved to hear it.

He snorts when he sees your open vest. He rolls his eyes as he stands up from his seat to kneel in front of you, uncaring of the way the carrier shakes aggressively as it leaves the ground. His broad fingers swiftly begin to put the buckles and snaps in place, tugging here and there. As he gets lower, his hand brushes against the gentle flare of your hip, and you can’t help but shudder. Luckily, it's covered by the shuddering of the aircraft. You really didn’t need Quaritch to look any smugger than he already does. 

You watch him tug your vest into place until everything sits perfectly, pretty mouth twisting as he works. He nods once he’s done, moving to sit back in his seat like he hadn’t just taken you completely by surprise. That does seem to be his thing, though.

You can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that Quaritch was actually here and coming with you on your first trip. All your worries seem to fade away as you realize what this means. If there is anyone whose capabilities you trusted, it's Quaritch. You’ve seen this guy fight before, and even then he barely broke a sweat. You also trusted that he would put in an effort to keep you safe, even if just to ‘save his image’ as he said. You almost roll your eyes.

The important thing is that you feel safe with Quaritch. Maybe that's stupid, maybe you’d end up regretting it. But for now, it's the only way you can feel. And with that feeling, hope and elation fully blossoms as you think about what you are about to accomplish with Quaritch by your side.

And really, what’s the worst that could happen?

Tagging: I tried to get everyone!!

@kristennero @silverhowe @creativityleftthechat @nissilou

@x-maladaptive-daydreams-x @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

@rdeville @anxiousraindrop5299 @floufli @rax-raxus

@nanamislut321 @perseny @gremlinfuck @e1d0lonk3k

@iwillnotexplainmyself @mxddymay @coffinbeananteiku @j-ang-0 @rowdy-00 @tmblrsexyw0man

@tohellwiththedevill @arsen-the-vamp @babyduk213

@owaowaowawa @desertrose244 @myxwallz @the-black-pines

@nahpu55yboy @goldmacaron @secretnerd00 @mxddymay @mckenzieriley69 @kristennero @kakimakiloh

@nina-murs @cannon3fodder @helpimhyperfixating @natalie12seal @daisybelldarling @b-dawwwg @r3dc4ndy @bitem4rked @simpforavillain @ilikeblueppl @curlymantis @novas-dreamworld

@wsup687 @poorpatheticdarling @spaghetti-in-my-pockets @skinmittensgoblin @darksxder @zilena9 @manymaria111 @ornnhub @roselleviennesstuff @dyingofcookies @dominespectabilis @mechformers @raezrr @missd3vil @biggestsimpever191919 @starfleetslut @ttreader @ @usvoldemort @kristennero @coffinbeananteiku @hellobittybabypotter @mrsquaritch @jane-arthur @luciddasher @redthefieryginger @nova-de-sketch

[peachy-posy]

Ride This Out - Vash x Reader (Chapter 3)

Rating: Explicit - 18+ MINORS DNI

A/N: Last chapter!!! It's literally pretty much all smut lmaoooo Thank you for reading along <3

Chapter Tags: Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Finger Riding, Mild Breeding Kink, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Coming Inside

Word Count: 5.4k

AO3 Chapter 1 Chapter 2

When you wake up, the room is dark. Dim moonlight filters softly into the room, illuminating the small quarters. 

You sink further into the warm mass you’re pressed against, trying to align your body to fit more snugly against his sleeping form. 

Your lover has one arm snaking around your waist, hand splayed on your hip. Sensing your movements, he begins to stir softly, a quiet groan escaping his lips. His fingers twitch as he wakes, and he tightens his arm around you as he blinks open his turquoise eyes. 

He smiles sleepily, free hand coming up to your face, brushing a loose strand of your bangs behind your ear. You smile back, leaning up to give him a sweet kiss. You feel him smile against your lips before drawing back. 

“Sleep okay, love?” His voice is charmingly gravelly from just waking up. 

A soft snort escapes you as you nod. He still sounds mostly asleep. “Not as good as you, I don’t think,” you joke. 

A grin adorns his face as he nods in agreement, drawing you closer to his warm body. 

You glance over to the window, a sigh escaping your lips. “We really overslept a bit, huh?”

Vash laughs, shrugging. “Ah, who cares. That was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

You lie together comfortably, his fingers running through your hair, scratching your scalp. Despite the peaceful atmosphere of the room, your mind is racing, your earlier conversation situated at the forefront of your thoughts.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you murmur against his chest. 

“I know,” he replies quietly. 

Biting the inside of your lip, you press forward. “I really am sorry… I never want you to be hurting alone.”

He says nothing for a moment, silence settling into the room like a thin layer of dust. Fear that you’ve somehow said the wrong thing begins forming in your chest, and you swallow thickly in an attempt to soothe it. Just as you’re about to start over explaining yourself, he speaks. 

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he remarks, a wistful smile on his lips. “I… I don’t deserve someone to share my hurt with.” He pauses, eyes somewhat glazed as he gets lost in his thoughts. “I don’t deserve you.”

Your chest twists painfully, his words causing you to feel ill. You refuse to allow him to keep thinking of himself this way. Hastily pushing yourself into an upright position, you turn to face him. His eyes are wide as you level him with an intense stare. 

“I don’t want to hear you say that ever again, Vash! You deserve the world . I’ll try to give that to you for as long as I live.” You pause briefly, trying to shift your tone into something more tender. “I’ve never met anyone as selfless, and kind, and brave, and sma-“ your words die out, interrupted by him surging forward, lips capturing yours in a desperate, passionate kiss. 

Initially, the shock of the kiss has you stiff, but you find yourself quickly melting into him.

He pulls back, ending the kiss as quickly as it started. You stare at him, a feeling of breathlessness in your chest.

“I love you. God, I love you so much.” The words fall from his lips so beautifully, and you waste no time in stealing another intense kiss. He reciprocates it immediately, hands raising to cup your jaw. 

“I,” you gasp, managing to pull away for a moment before his hands draw you in again roughly. The kiss is wet and rushed, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull back again after a few seconds, lips close enough to still be grazing his, breathing out, “love you.” He surges forward, desperately seeking out your lips as if he needs them to survive. 

Without interrupting your kiss, you swing your knee over his hips to straddle him. He leans back in a fluid motion, pulling you with him to the mattress. Using your knees and forearms to support you, you hover over his pelvis and lean over his chest, deepening the kiss. Your bodies rock together sensually as his tongue slips past your lips, drawing a soft moan from your chest.

His hands trail roughly down your body, possessive as he squeezes and claims you. They eventually come to rest on your hips, gripping them as his pelvis bucks slightly against you. The feeling is electrifying, and you grind your clothed sex down on him in response, drawing a groan from him. Heat rushes through your core as you feel his hardened member, aching with want. 

Just as you’re about to see if he wants to go further, he draws back, letting his head rest on the mattress, cheeks flushed. The otherwise quiet, dusty bedroom is filled with the sounds of soft panting.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his eyes hooded with lust. “I’m being selfish… I wasn’t even considering the fact that you got injured today. You’re probably still sore, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

You gaze at him for several long moments, his thoughtfulness making you feel both touched and impatient. “Vash, I’m fine. What I am is extremely pent up, though, so I would really appreciate it if we could take care of that.” He blushes slightly, and you can’t stop the smirk that pulls at your lips. “In fact, I’m hoping I’ll be sore if I play my cards right.”

A giggle falls from your lips as he gapes at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. It’s not long before he too eventually snorts, giving into laughing along with you. 

“Unbelievable!” He chides, giving you a playful poke to your side. “I was worried about you, and here you are, only one thing on your mind!”

You blush, grinning down at him. “Well, I’m not alone in thinking about it.” A purposeful shift of your body on his pelvis effectively proves your point, putting pressure on his hardened length. The sensation draws a pleasured groan from him, and your grin widens. 

He swallows thickly. “I guess it has been a little while.”

That could be the biggest understatement of the year. Traveling in a group doesn’t exactly allow many opportunities for intimacy. Many nights have been spent under the stars in the desert, unable to do more than share chaste kisses and a sleeping bag. 

“All right,” he sighs. “But you’re gonna have to keep it down for once, because these walls are pretty thin,” he warns teasingly. 

You regard him with a playfully scandalized expression, mouth open, a smile threatening to betray your rouse. “ For once? You’re so full of it!”

He grins at you, snickering softly and murmuring a not-so-apologetic sounding apology. Cupping the base of your head, he pulls you down for a kiss. You smile against his lips, your fingers hastily working to remove his shirt. 

Once it’s been slipped over his head and tossed aside, you sit back up, eyes shamelessly roving over his figure. He is a vision of beauty, his defined muscles lightly flexing as you graze your fingernails across his skin. The soft touch has him gasping, his own hands sliding up and down your sides. 

When you two first got together, he was incredibly self conscious about his body. All intimacy involved his shirt remaining on, which was perfectly fine with you. You wanted him to be comfortable and to be able to fully enjoy himself, and were happy to build up his confidence slowly. 

He finally showed you his shirtless form after months of gentle reassurances and confidence building, and you traced your fingers delicately over his scars with tears streaming down your cheeks, babbling that you couldn’t understand how so many could hurt him this way. 

You’d felt terrible afterwards. He had to comfort you when he was in a very vulnerable state. You apologized profusely, vowing to him that you would take every bad and painful touch his body had ever been scarred with and replace it tenfold with a gentle and loving one. 

And you spent as much time as you could fulfilling that promise. 

You begin peppering kisses all over him, wanting to claim every inch of his skin with them. Keeping your touch featherlight, you graze every ridge and valley on his abdomen, absolutely relishing the pleasured sounds you’re able to pull from him. Your mouth works its way down his body, taking time to give every scar you can see attention with your lips and mouth. His breath catches when you give a few quick sucks to his nipples, teeth just barely scraping against them. 

Your body is situated right atop his still covered cock, the pressure on it constantly fluctuating as you shift and move. The way he sounds as he’s panting and moaning lights a fire in you, smoldering and building with every passing moment. You find yourself struggling to not grind against him to soothe the tingling heat in your core. 

You kiss and nip slowly down his stomach, your own body scooting down in between his legs, your head finally reaching his pants. Your eyes flick up at him through your lashes, and the look on his face goes directly to your cunt. He’s already wrecked and you’ve barely touched him—his chest is rising and falling in quick, uneven pants; beads of sweat are accumulating at his hairline, rolling slowly down his face; his cheeks are flushed with arousal.

His cock is painfully hard: you don’t need to remove anything to tell that much. You’re glad he’s wearing a pair of loose, gray sweatpants, because they’re much easier to remove than his normal clothes. 

With nimble fingers, you slide his pants and underwear off, tossing them aside haphazardly, eyes trained on his thick length. 

You glance at him through your lashes again. “So hard already, baby,” you murmur, lightly gripping his cock and giving it a slow stroke.

He moans deliciously, his head tilting back into the pillows. “You’re gonna kill me, Mayfly,” he mumbles, the back of his hand covering his eyes. 

You grin, giving him a firmer stroke. The moan he lets out makes you squeeze your thighs together, seeking any relief for your aching, wet sex. 

You go down on him eagerly, taking the tip of his thick cock into your mouth, moaning as you suck and lick the head and slit. A shaky, breathy moan escapes his lips as his hands grasp at the sheets, and you start pumping his shaft with your hands while focusing on the bulbous tip with your mouth and tongue. 

You sneak an occasional glance at your lover while you suck him off, unable to keep your eyes off him for long. He has his eyes closed, his brow furrowed, his mouth open as quiet, lewd whimpers and groans spill from his lips. His hips twitch involuntarily as he loses himself in the wet heat of your mouth. 

He begins to thrust up into you as his pants and moans become more noticeable, but you hold him down by the hips, removing your hands from his cock, rubbing placating circles against his hip bone. Just as he’s beginning to make noises of protest, you take him completely into your mouth, his tip touching the back of your throat. The strangled cry that leaves his throat spurs you on as you begin bobbing up and down in earnest, sucking and hollowing your cheeks. 

He cries out your name, one of his hands covering his mouth to try and stifle his moans. His other hand is gripping the sheets, holding them so tightly his knuckles are white. 

“Oh, f-fuck, yes, just like that baby,” he babbles, his words muffled around his hand. He starts jerking his hips into your mouth again, and you let him this time, swallowing around his cock as he fucks your mouth. 

You begin to notice his body tense up periodically, and based on the noises of desperation falling from his covered mouth, you know he’s getting close. 

Deciding to try and push him over the edge, you take him deeper into your throat, but he cries out once more, gasping, “Baby, baby, wait-wait!” As you register his words, you begin easing up, but he grabs your head urgently and pulls you off his throbbing cock, his hips jerking forward reflexively. 

You look up, furrowing your brow, eyes watering and wet lips parted and swollen. He’s sitting up, hunched over, panting and trembling. A bead of sweat rolls down his neck and along his collarbone, and the sight of him this way makes you want to step back in and finish the job.

You scold yourself mentally for being distracted and horny, trying to reign it in to make sure he’s all right.

“Everything okay?” Your voice is slightly hoarse as you rub a hand soothingly along his thigh. You move to sit up on your knees, resting in between his parted legs. 

He looks out of it, and it takes a moment for your question to register. With a reassuring nod, he runs a hand through his sweat slicked locks, putting his free hand over yours with a breathless chuckle. 

“Yeah, yeah, more than okay—I just don’t wanna cum yet, s’too soon,” he mumbles, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. 

A delighted grin forms on your lips as you lunge forward and pepper kisses on his nose and cheekbones. 

“Aw! Such a thoughtful partner I have!” You praise happily, somewhat teasing. 

When he looks at you, his eyes darken, prompting you to swallow thickly as arousal tingles in your core. 

A soft huff of laughter escapes him, and he murmurs, “Actually…” Leaning forward, his voice lowers as he speaks into your ear. “I only wanna cum inside you. It’d be such a waste going down your throat.”

You choke on air, anticipation swirling in your gut. You have no idea where that suddenly came from, but it would be a lie if you said it didn’t turn you on. You know your face is bright red, because when he leans back to look at you, he can’t hold back his laughter at your expression. Your face feels even hotter as you look away from him.

“Sorry, sorry… too much?” He finally manages, his hand coming up to brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Um… actually…” you bite your lip, eyes trained on anything other than him in the moonlit room, feeling uncharacteristically shy. 

He absolutely glows with excitement.

“Mayfly!” He gasps, his tone playfully scandalized. “Did we just find a new kink?”

You hide your flaming cheeks with your hands, fingers spread across your eyes. In your embarrassment, all you can manage is a high pitched, “Mhm!”

He coos playfully, reaching for your wrists. “C’mon, don’t hide. It’s okay! It’s hot!”

Tugging your wrists away from your face, he plants little kisses on your cheekbones, ceasing only when you meet his eyes again.

A pleased grin is plastered on his face as he releases your wrists, drawing a huff of laughter from you. As he reaches forward to pull you in by the base of your neck for a soft kiss, you feel the tension melt from your body. 

Feeling reassured that you’ve recovered from your slight embarrassment, his hands drift, grazing down to the hem of your shirt, fingers slipping under the fabric to feel your heated, sweat-slicked skin. Reaching down after him, you lift your shirt off easily, tossing it aside. His hands slide up your body sensually, snaking around your back, seeking out the clasp of your bra. With practiced fingers, the clasp is freed, and you let the garment slide down your arms, flinging it haphazardly. 

A moan spills from your lips as his calloused hands cup your breasts, fingers gently pinching your hardened nipples. You feel heady with lust and anticipation, your pussy throbbing. 

You rest your forehead against his own, sharing his breaths, relaxing into him as you feel one of his hands ghost down your belly. Your eyelids flutter shut as his hand trails further down, slipping into your pants and underwear, prompting you to part your knees. 

Vash’s lips latch onto your neck, sucking and nipping the sensitive flesh as his fingertips reach your soaking folds. A pleased groan rumbles from his chest as he feels your wetness, dipping into your cunt to spread the fluids towards your throbbing clit. A shaky, wanton moan tumbles from your lips, his touch electric on your aching sex. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against your neck breathlessly, finger dipping back into your hole. 

“Vash, please,” you whine, shifting to get his finger closer to your swollen clit. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, his finger finally sliding to where you want it. Your body jolts as he starts rubbing small circles into you, his movements somewhat restricted by your pants, but still effective in sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He curses under his breath as lewd whimpers escape you, pitched and desperate. 

Hastily pulling your remaining clothes off, you shudder as he increases the pressure on your clit once he has more room. You’re so wound up you know you won’t last long like this, and he seems to know this too. 

The sparking pleasure from his finger eases up gradually, leaving you breathlessly reeling. You feel his finger slide down your folds, dipping slowly into your cunt. You whine as he sinks it into you, resisting the impulse to squeeze your thighs together. The small intrusion of his finger feels like sweet relief, and you find yourself quaking when he’s knuckles deep. 

You feel his long finger curl, pressing onto the plush walls of your pussy with a teasingly slow pace. Pleasure jolts in your core and you groan lasciviously, feeling his pulsing finger quicken its pace. 

It’s not long before he is relentlessly fingering your g-spot, slipping another finger into your wet hole. You grind your clit into his palm, desperately seeking out friction.

Your body feels like a live wire, core thrumming with pleasure. Your breaths are coming in short pants, and your forehead has dropped down to rest in the crook of your lover’s shoulder, where he’s babbling praises into your ear. 

‘So good for me, you’re taking me so well, so tight.’

Your hips start rolling, and you moan Vash’s name with tears in your eyes when his fingers hit just right.

“Right there?” He asks breathlessly. 

You nod vigorously, gripping onto his bicep to ground yourself. He watches you with wide eyes, completely transfixed, and makes no move to stop you from taking your pleasure. 

You let yourself get lost in the heat that’s buzzing deep inside you, head thrown back and eyes closed, riding your lover’s fingers with pitched moans. With every roll of your hips, Vash’s palm rubs into you, the friction sending jolts of ecstasy through your body.  

Vash’s other hand creeps down his own body, and he starts to fuck his fist slowly as he watches you. He stares, entranced as your eyebrows furrow, and can feel your walls begin to tense sporadically on his fingers. He slips a third finger into your heat and you gasp in response, hips stuttering momentarily as you adjust. 

The pleasure that has been steadily building is beginning to reach its breaking point. Every brush of his fingers against your g-spot sends you hurdling closer to your climax. As much as you’d like to have that release, you don’t mind to edge yourself a bit, wanting to reciprocate the thoughtfulness your partner showed you. 

“Mmm, baby, ‘m close,” you mumble, huffing for breath as sweat rolls down every part of your body, hips steadily rolling to a stop. You lift yourself gingerly, beginning to scoot back to let Vash’s fingers slide out of your throbbing cunt, but cry out in surprise when you feel his hand grasp your hip, pushing you back down on his digits harshly. His fingers push hard against your g-spot, sending delicious sparks of ecstasy through you, teetering dangerously close to the edge once again. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to gain some control, trying to breathe through the orgasm that is threatening to overtake you.

You open your eyes to ask Vash what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when you see him. He’s watching you, completely captivated, panting and sweating, cock strained and hard. He has an intense look on his face.

“Who said you should stop?” His voice is low, and you swallow thickly. His fingers twitch in you, and you squirm slightly, swallowing a whimper. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.” 

Before you have a chance to mumble out a reply, he curls his digits inside you, and you cry out in bliss. He fingers you roughly, sparks of hot pleasure shooting into your belly. You’re worked back to the edge swiftly, gasping desperately, walls tensing on his long fingers. He leans forward slightly, face close to your ear. 

“C’mon Mayfly,” he breathes, giving you a wet kiss right under your jaw. You feel him suck and nip at your sensitive skin, shuddering from all of the sensations assaulting you. He shifts up, lips right on your ear. Fingers relentless inside of you, you feel tears prick at your eyes. He brings his palm closer to your heat, grinding it against your clit. “Come for me, you’re so close.”

That’s all you can take: you throw your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as you are thrown over the edge with a strangled cry. Your orgasm is one of the most intense you’ve ever had, the unshed tears from earlier spilling over your lashes as your body goes rigid. He continues to fuck you through it, praising you as he feels your walls clamp down, fluttering sporadically, fluids gushing around his fingers. Your body is wracked by aftershocks of pleasure, and you gasp against him each time. Eventually, the waves begin to fizzle, and you slump against him as stray tears roll down your cheeks.  

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing the side of your head.

You whimper as he withdraws his slicked fingers, arms still wrapped around his neck to anchor yourself from the intense pleasure you’re still coming down from.

Despite the mind blowing orgasm he just gave you, that tingling, hot sensation of unadulterated want can still be felt in your core, and you know you could do another round. 

His hand strokes up and down your spine, his touch brimming with love and care. A few moments pass before either of you speak again, allowing you to collect yourself. 

“Can you keep going?” He asks softly, kissing that same spot on your head. Even though he hasn’t cum, there’s no pressure in his question. There never has been and there never will be. He only wants to continue if you do.

You smile weakly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “‘Course I can. What do you take me for?”

He chuckles softly, gently wiping the remnants of a tear off your cheek. “You’re insatiable.”

You blush, but laugh along with him, giving him a small, affectionate kiss on the nose. “Hey, I tried to stop. I think you’re just into it.”

He grins, and your heart skips a beat. “Guilty as charged.”

After giving you another few moments to recover, Vash guides you gently back onto his hips, laying down with his back on the mattress. You straddle him, and he places his large hands on your hips. You smile warmly, taking in his visage laying under you. 

“You’re stunning,” you whisper, lovingly stroking his forearms at your sides. 

He blushes, and your smile brightens. “I could say the same thing. I’ve got a pretty good view from here,” he replies, his thumbs stroking the plush flesh around your hips. 

Lifting yourself onto your knees, Vash reaches down to guide himself into your sensitive heat. 

It’s been a while for you both, so the stretch to accommodate his member straddles pleasure and pain. You balance yourself using his chest, slowly lowering yourself onto him. You’re half tempted to just throw caution to the wind and bottom out now, despite being oversensitive. 

“Don’t - ah - don’t rush, Mayfly,” he chides, sensing your impatience. 

“‘s taking too long,” you mumble back, closing your eyes as you concentrate. His grip tightens on your hips to control your descent, his breathing quick. 

When you finally bottom out, you both let out a deep exhale, taking a moment to get adjusted. You feel so full, the burn from stretching not quite gone, but dissipating steadily.

After remaining seated for a few moments, you try an experimental roll of your hips, deciding both the sensitivity and stretch is bearable. Vash sucks in a sharp breath, and you take it as a cue to keep going. 

You start at a steady, but slow pace, mostly grinding at this point. It’s not long, though, before you raise yourself up and sink back down, a breathy moan of Vash’s name on your tongue. Setting a languid pace, you bite your lip as he moans wantonly. His thick cock twitches inside you as you ride him, your walls clenching on him sporadically. 

“Oh, god you’re tight. Fuck.”

Soon, the slow pace isn’t enough, and you begin bouncing on his hips, his cock spearing deep into you, sparks of pleasure shooting into your core. His hands grip your inner thighs, thumbs resting in the divet connecting your pelvis to your thighs, head tilting back into the pillows, eyes closed. His swollen lips part as soft groans and pants of your name spill from them. 

“Like that, god yes,” he mutters, his hips starting to thrust in tune with your movements. 

You throw your head back as his thrusts become more forceful, less controlled. You feel so deliciously full, the burn from the stretch completely gone. His grip on your thighs tightens, and he starts pulling you down harder, driving a pleasured cry from your mouth. Your eyes flit down to where you’re joined, watching as he snaps his hips upwards, his muscles flexing as he moves.

You are taken by surprise when Vash’s grip on your thighs moves abruptly to your waist, and he rolls you over, switching positions. Now looming over top of you, he thrusts his cock into you at a punishing pace. You gasp, the pleasure building in your core dizzying. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, your body folding as he fucks into you. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hammering your g-spot and causing a wet squelching noise.  

In an unfortunately timed moment of self-awareness breaking through your haze of lust, you realize just how loud you two have been this whole time: the lewd slapping of your sweat soaked bodies, the old bed creaking and scraping the floor, the wooden headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, the breathy ’ ah’ that spills from your lips with every thrust, the heavy panting and groaning from your lover. Your face turns beet red, but you can’t stop the keening noise you make at a particularly deep thrust. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, mortified that half the inn probably knows what you’re doing. 

“What’s wrong?” Vash manages, unrelenting in his pace. 

“We, ah, I just realized, mm…” your words fail you for a moment, toes curling as he bends you further, trying to get closer to hear you better. “We’ve been so, ngh, loud,” you finally get out, face turning impossibly redder. 

The smug look that overtakes his features makes you wish you’d kept your mouth shut.

“I warned you earlier,” he pants, but seems all too pleased about the noise. Biting your hand, you attempt to stifle the noises you’re making, though you know it’s far too late to care. He gets a mischievous kind of look in his eye, and before you know it, his hand snakes down between your rocking bodies, fingers deftly brushing against your oversensitive clit. 

All hopes in preserving your dignity are out the window. 

A cry of his name pours from your lips, lost in the intense sensations overtaking your body. Your walls clench down on him, causing him to groan loudly, hips stuttering for a moment. 

“C-close, close, mmm! ” you babble desperately, gasping, feeling the pleasure in your core winding up tighter with every toe curling slap of his hips. 

“M-me too, Mayfly,” he pants, his pistoning hips becoming more erratic. He increases the pressure on your clit, tightening the coil in your core. 

His ministrations bring you to your climax, a strangled moan tearing from your throat, your whole body going taut as you peak. The aftershocks of pleasure follow, hitting you in waves, your tightening, fluttering walls sending Vash closer to the edge. You feel his thrusts stutter. 

“In, cum inside, please,” you beg, voice pitched and desperate as you toss your head to the side. 

He curses under his breath at your erotic display, sweat dripping down his body. He manages one final thrust, pushing his cock in as deep as he can with a stuttered groan as his seed spills into you. The warm feeling of it filling you up extends your orgasm slightly, your cunt milking his throbbing member as much as possible. Vash grinds his hips into you, chasing the last waves of his pleasure as the remainder of his seed spills into you. 

The blonde collapses onto the mattress after letting your legs fall from his shoulders, trying to land mostly to your side. 

You’re a mess of heaving, tangled limbs on a bed. Both of you pant heavily, sweat drenching your bodies, his softening cock still inside you as your combined fluids start trickling from your puffy, sensitive hole. 

After several moments spent catching your breath, you curl into him, wrapping a leg around his own. You hear him huff a bit of laughter, pulling you closely against him. He presses a kiss into your hair, and you gently trace patterns with your fingernails on his back. 

You break the comfortable silence. 

“I think… that may have been the best sex we’ve ever had.”

He snorts, his hand coming up to scratch your scalp softly. “I think you’re right. Not sure why though.”

“We were extremely pent up,” you point out. He hums in agreement. “And I’ve heard makeup sex is better than regular sex.”

Your statement takes him by surprise, a snicker finally escaping him following a beat of silence. You grin against his chest, pressing a kiss to the sweat-covered skin in front of you. 

“Are you saying we should argue more and have sex less?” He asks, teasing. 

“Hey, if it works, it works.”

He chuckles, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. You sigh into it, feeling your body melt. 

“I love you,” you murmur softly against his lips. 

“I love you too, Mayfly,” he replies, giving you another soft kiss for good measure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The following morning, you and Vash walk alongside Wolfwood to a nearby restaurant, seeking out some breakfast before getting on the road. 

You had been worried sick that everyone would shoot dirty looks at you and your partner following your late-night activities; Wolfwood especially, since you’ll be stuck with him and his teasing long-term. It seems as if you’re in the clear, though, because you haven’t heard a word all morning. 

After sitting at a small table at the restaurant, Vash takes your hand, holding it softly. You shoot him a quick, tender gaze before Wolfwood clears his throat.

“Y’know guys, I’m just so glad you were able to make up. You had me worried.”

“Oh yeah, I meant to thank you!” Vash exclaims suddenly, glad to have remembered. “Thank you for being there for her yesterday. We really owe you,” he finishes, his voice earnest. You smile pleasantly, taking a sip of water.

Wolfwood waves him off. “Think nothing of it, friend. Always glad to help.”

A beat of silence follows, and he adds nonchalantly, “Y’know, I should be thanking you.” 

You and Vash exchanged puzzled glances, before he asks, “What for?”

Wolfwood shrugs, plucking a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, lighting it swiftly. “It was just so thoughtful to loudly make sure everyone at the inn knew you guys made up. You two are just constantly thinking of others.”

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀be quiet | cbg

⠀⠀⠀meany!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre ; smut

warnings | tags ; beomgyu is mean and frustrated (and hot); a tiny bit of subtle cock worship; name calling ('slut' + 'pathetic'); NO protection mentioned; probably something else but i forgot.

wordcount ; 0.9k

✉ notes ; getting a meltdown while trying to come up with nicknames beomgyu would call his s/o is... meh. if anyone has any suggestions for all the members—

also kinda tagging my bestie @biteyoubiteme because she loves gamer gyu, but it's... not much of a gamer gyu, but... ily sorry

happy new year everyone! i hope 2025 will be kind to you and people who are important to you ♡ thank you so much for reading, i'm happy to have you all in my life ♡

⠀⠀⠀[ masterlist is here ]

you weren't sure how you went there—one moment you were sitting cross-legged on the couch beside beomgyu as he played league of legends on his laptop, and the next, you found yourself kneeling on the rough fabric, face down, cheek pressed against the t-shirt he had carelessly thrown on the couch to prevent you from rubbing your cheek against it. you felt his hand on the side of your head, pushing your face further into the fabric as his other hand pulled your bottoms down to your knees, your underwear going with them.

"g-gyu—" you whimpered, unsure if you wanted him to stop or continue. it was the middle of the night in the dorm's living room, and while some of the members were known to wander around at random hours, you were too far gone to care. you had been wet for nearly an hour already, watching beomgyu groan and curse his "completely useless, good-for-nothing" teammates. his forearms flexed as one hand clicked the mouse buttons aggressively and the other flew over the keys, hands that seemed to be made by the gods themselves.

he pulled his sweatpants down, freeing himself with a soft groan. instinctively, you tried to turn your head to look back at him—you loved his cock so much, you could admire it for hours, for days from between his legs—but he quickly pressed your head back down, pushing your chin up so you could barely see him. this made you whimper in protest, your body aching for him.

beomgyu chuckled, pushing two of his fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch you out. "ohh, what a pathetic little pup," he murmured, his voice filled with a pout. "wants to see my cock so badly. would do anything for it, wouldn't you?" his fingers curled inside you, making you clench around them and mewl into the fabric of his t-shirt.

you whined a quiet "please", already wet enough to take him. your inner thighs were slick with your arousal, and you pushed your hips back, trying to show him you were ready and couldn't wait. you didn't care about the stretching, craving the little pain that always came with his dick.

beomgyu wanted to torture you more, to make you cry, beg, and whimper. he loved seeing your face wet and your mind filled only with thoughts of him, loved seeing the dumb, lust-filled look in your eyes. sometimes, he managed to make you go dumb for his cock before it even left his pants. but this time, he knew you barely had any time. he knew should’ve pulled you to his bedroom and fuck you in his bed, but you’d been almost grinding the couch for half an hour, stealing his concentration completely. by the end of the game he could barely think about anything but you.

he rolled his eyes as he finally started pushing his cock inside, the tip alone feeling like heaven. it was wet, tight, and so warm, shaped just for him. he couldn't wait to feel you clenching around him. with a sharp exhale, he buried himself inside you completely, biting his lip to stay quiet. but you didn't do the same—your moan cut through the night air. fuck, he thought. it was hot but too risky, soobin would scold the shit out of him for fucking in a shared space.

when he pulled out, you whimpered—he stretched you out so good, you were praying for him to stay inside longer, but it only lasted a moment before he wrapped his fingers around your neck, pulling you up by it to stand on your knees. he told you to grab his t-shirt, which you did, clenching it in your hands as your back pressed against his chest.

not-so-gently, beomgyu left a bite on your neck, groaning "stay. quiet." into it before tearing the t-shirt away from your hands and turning you around, pushing you to lay on the couch. you swallowed thickly as he towered over you, your gaze immediately drawn to his cock, your tongue darting out to lick your lips involuntarily.

he pushed his bangs back, looking down at you sprawled beneath him, your eyes glued to his cock that you couldn't wait to have inside you. it was mutual, and he slapped your thigh quietly, saying "up". beomgyu knew you were a good, smart girl, so even in your current state, you lifted your hips up, letting him put his t-shirt under you.

you reached out for him immediately, hands trying to grab his arms to pull him down. he tsked, shaking his head, but you both knew he loved it. he parted your legs, positioning his cock at your entrance once more. lowering himself on top of you this time, he leaned on his elbow not to crush you, his palm finding its place on your face, covering your mouth. his fingers dug into your cheeks as he buried himself to the hilt with one sharp movement, making you arch your back and moan into his hand, eyes screwed shut.

"can never be quiet, can you?" beomgyu asked breathlessly, your reaction to him making his brain hazy. "if you wake any of them up, i'll ask that one to join. f-fuck— you're clenching around me. liking the thought, little slut?"

[peachie5000]

Luke's personal narrative running through his head throughout abyss kills me though. Because once he gets over the hurdle of actually self-actualizing its already when he's found out he isn't real and has done irreparable things to the world that he knows he won't be forgiven for. Truly a doomed existence and thats BEFORE multiple different characters and events start implying he should kys for the greater good.

He only understands the value of his life once he realizes that he can't live!!! I go insane!!!!

[pexchys]

"your dirty little secret" Al-Haitham x gn!Reader

cw: semi-nsfw, a little angst, secret relationships, lowk toxic reader, drunk mentions, somewhat unrequited love

Al-Haitham walks past you, his boots clicking against the grand Akademiya halls

He barely notices you, his face as stoic as ever

But you know he's frustrated

You know he's dying on the inside.

You've been avoiding him like the plague, until it's three in the morning, drunk at the tavern, stumbling away from Nilou, Cyno and Tighnari, making your way to his home

Just like you did last night

When you knocked on the door, your face flushed and your eyes wide as Al-Haitham greeted you before you gently grabbed his face and brought him close to you

He paused before wrapping his strong arms around your waist, kicking the door closed as he pushed you against the wall, desperate as he kissed your lips, before moving down to your neck

You gasped, arching your back to give him more access as he continued to press kisses down to your collarbone, before he led you into his bedroom

"You're drunk," he muttered in between kisses and soft bites, laying you down on your back

You stayed quiet, choosing to run your fingers through his gray locks and nudging him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his hips

And when the morning came, he was still asleep with evidence all over his chest of what you did hours before

And when you wanted nothing more than to sit there and study his face, memorizing the arch of his nose and his quiet breathing pattern,

The way he so many times tried to spend a wholesome night with you,

You grabbed your clothes and left.

Gone.

Like every time.

He was falling in love with you, you knew that.

You could see it in the way he stared at you when you laughed,

Or when his demeanor slightly shifted when you flirted with Dehya

Or joked with Kaveh.

You wanted to love him back.

But that would be impossible.

So for now, he'd be your dirty little secret.

Inspired by Artemas's "dirty little secret"

[peachy-panic]

BBU: Hollywood

This idea took root and wouldn't let go. Can't say for sure if this will be A Thing, or just a one-off teaser of a thing, but here it is nonetheless.

WARNINGS: BBU, implied noncon, implied noncon drug use, the fucked up film industry

“Cut!”

He doesn’t realize the cameras have stopped rolling until the shrill ring of the bell jolts him back into his body, and out of the one he’s been inhabiting since the last call of action. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink for a few moments, still caught in the blurry line between characters. Sometimes it takes a few seconds to remember which mask he's wearing.

There is a flurry of movement around him; PAs rush past, murmuring into their headsets, toting plush robes and glass bottles of sparkling water. Hair and makeup swoop in to invade everyone’s space, making their minute adjustments before rolling begins anew. 

When he returns to himself, Henry's cheeks are cold with drying tear tracks, and his heartbeat pulses lightly in his lips. 

His scene partner is already turned away, her attention attuned to the phone in her hand while a woman with frizzy hair attends to her smudged lipstick. Distantly, Henry knows if he touches his fingertips to his own mouth, they will come away in the same shade of red. Seconds ago, they were locked in an embrace, their tears mingling in the neckline of her silk gown, whispered words of affection spilling between them, and now Henry doesn’t exist. He won’t again until the cameras are pointed at him. Only then does he become alive.

A cold, acrylic nail hooks his chin and turns his head. His personal makeup artist is a woman named Kat in her late thirties with a sleek, blonde bob and smile lines around her eyes. She’s worked on every one of Henry’s films, and she has never spoken to him directly. On instinct, Henry lets his eyes fall shut, slipping back from the surface as she goes through the familiar routine of touching him up. 

From behind the wall of his own little world, he allows himself the indulgence of tuning into the conversations around him. A couple of new production assistants—not much older than him—talk about the food truck that production ordered as an end-of-week treat. (This doesn’t apply to Henry. He is on a strict diet of kale and boiled chicken while he's filming. He is always filming). The wardrobe team talks about grabbing a drink at Stanley’s after wrap today. (He knows that Stanley’s is everyone’s favorite spot because it’s less than a mile from the studio, but he’s never seen it for himself). The assistant director comments on her third cup of coffee of the day. (Henry wishes he could ask for some).

The voices fade and flutter until one cuts through the rest.

“One last take, and we’re calling it, David.”

Henry opens his eyes, and Paul stands directly in front of him.

His sleek, black suit stands out among the crew's workwear, and probably costs three times as much combined. It’s hard not to notice the ways everyone’s demeanor changes the moment the Executive Producer steps onto set. In a way, it’s almost reassuring to know Henry isn’t the only one who shrinks in this man’s shadow. But that’s where the commonality ends. They may fear him, too, but at the end of a fourteen hour day, they are not the ones who return home to Paul Maxwell’s bed. 

“Our star needs to be red-carpet ready in an hour-thirty.” Though he’s addressing the director, Paul stares directly into Henry’s eyes. “Be sure that he is.”

He doesn’t need to nudge the makeup artist away so much as she instinctively pulls back when Paul lifts a large hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Henry’s jaw. Henry keeps his eyes where they’ve been beckoned and pretends not to notice the assistants in his periphery who duck their faces away from the display of ownership. Paul’s thumb swipes across the corner of Henry’s mouth, taking with it a smear of Eliza Darling’s expensive lipstick. Then, wordlessly, he releases him. 

There’s a renewed sense of urgency as Paul retreats from the chaos, but also one of relief that comes with the last shot of the day—for everyone except Henry. 

He was up before the sun, and he knows he’ll be out long after it has set. The worst part about interior days: he doesn’t get to see daylight once. Normally, even the call of his Keeper’s bedroom feels like a reprieve after this many hours of shooting. But tonight, his previous film is set to premier on the other side of Los Angeles, and there is no premier without Paul Maxwell’s shining star.

More importantly, there is no after party without him.

There is no time for exhaustion, not for him. When the caffeine pills have run their course, he’ll be given something stronger, and he’ll take it. Whatever it takes to get through the night that will inevitably become a very long weekend.

“You heard the boss,” David says, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Let’s make it a good one. Clear frame.”

The makeup brushes make a few last frantic swipes across his skin before they scurry away. Liza Darling tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and presses her phone into a nameless PA’s hand. Henry closes his eyes and slips into another man’s skin.

People tell Henry all the time that he’s lucky to lead the life that he does, in his position. It is only in these fleeting intervals of fiction between reality that he might just agree with them.

For the next three minutes, he does not have to be Henry, nor is he the boy with the name from a life he is not allowed to remember. For the next three minutes, he is Brock Layton: twenty-three, rich, and madly in love. 

For the next three minutes, he is as free as he’ll ever be again. 

“Sound speed,” the mixer calls out, raising the boom pole over his head. 

“Rolling,” camera echoes back. 

“And, action.”

[peachypede]

Some MTAS Owen Relationship Headcanons

He loves making you food, but he especially loves you being the first to try out his new recipes. Seeing your face light up when you like his food makes him happier than you can imagine.

He mentions that he wants to name a dish after you. You end up having an appetizer, a main course, and a dessert that are all titled “Y/n’s Favorite ❤️”

Because of his work, he doesn’t wear cologne very often other than when he’s going on dates with you. He comes home smelling like the good food he makes, though. (and he has some of that good natural man smell)

Obviously he's a jewelry guy with those chunky rings he wears, (that he probably has to take off when cooking at the saloon) and one of his love languages is gift giving, so he loves to shower you in jewelry, too. He makes an effort to know your favorite metal, gem, and type of jewelry like rings/necklaces/earrings/etc and he gets you what you like. If you don’t have a preference, he’s really good at determining what would look good on you. Seeing you wear what he bought makes him swell with pride. If you want to match with him, he gets flustered.

He has lots of pictures of his family in his house and when you start dating him, pictures of you slowly start showing up, too. Then, if you have children with him, he takes so many pictures of all of you. Your living room, bedroom, and kitchen all have pictures of your family on the walls.