#thornsong

SEND ME ‘👕’ AND I’LL DRAW MY MUSE IN YOUR MUSE’S CLOTHES [Closed]

 [ Six Shooter plays in the background tbh ]

@thornsong​

“…” she’s trying really hard to not burst out laughing at the dinner table.

the soft sigh against his skin sent it prickling into goosebumps, a heated flush traveling from the warmth of her breath up to his ears and cheeks.as much as they cozied themselves upon this couch, settled in positions identical to now, never could he fully acclimate himself to it.so unaccustomed to this affection, this gentle touch that did not speak of battle but in fact an intimacy his childhood had lacked, each and every time did he flinch when she approached.

yet, like all other times that had come and gone, he sunk back, tense muscles becoming lax as he practically melted like putty against her.

she was warm and soft and soothing, smelling sweet of soap and clean hair, fresh clothes straight out of the dryer.she was everything beautiful, like the sun and stars and the glimmer of the distant moon captured in a person.and she had chosen him.

he, who was followed by the rancid stench of battlefields, who’s hands were permanently stained with the blood of innocents and enemies alike.he, who caved to savage urges and resolved all with violence, who embodied the very ugliness of war that so many turned their heads away from.yet, with her gentle eyes, she gazed upon him not with the disgust and contempt he expected, but with love.a love he felt in how she curled against his shoulder, in the way her nose nuzzled against crook of neck and collarbone, her low hum signaling contentment.

vegeta would remain eternally baffled that she had chosen him of all people, but tonight, he would not question her.instead, did he turn to her, savoring the closeness, the bliss of a comfortable silence between them, before he reached.

‘ it’s late, ‘ his words came out near monotone, softly spoken, voice as gentle as his touch as he moved her.with practiced ease, treating her as though she were feather-light, she was lifted easily from the couch to his arms, cradled to still be allowed to nestle against his chest and be carried comfortably to bed.

bumps her head into his shoulder.

an angel ??  ||  @thornsong