#Bobble Head Apples

[king-galaxius]

Bobble Head Apples

Bobble head apples. Put the caramel apple on a stick. Then, attach it to the bobble head body. Do it quick! Place it on the dashboard of the car. Watch it shake. Did your creation become a masterpiece? Or, did you fuck it up? Now, it is a “generic ” version. Fake!

[hottestvirgin]

imagine anton’s whimpers while you ride him TᴖT

warnings. sex

oh my god. everyone knows that anton has the most soft, pretty whimpers ever. imagine bouncing on his thick cock and all he can do is squeeze your waist and whimper uncontrollably beneath you.

the way his quaking breath hitches every time the swollen tip of his cock juts against that sweet, spongy spot inside you, so so deep which makes his legs shake from how tight and warm your dripping cunt is around him.

anton looks so pretty like this. some of his thick, unruly hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, cheeks rosy and mouth agape with drool spilling down his chin. you couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss his wet, warmish lips. but anton feels so good that he can’t even kiss back.

“haah.. feels so good.” he whimpers against your plush lips quietly, throwing his head back to reveal his toned neck, adam’s apple bobbling when he swallows hard.

you lift your hips just slightly until his cock almost slips out and slam back down onto his lap, forcing a pretty moan from his lungs.

with his shaky breath he pauses for a short minute to lick his dry lips.

“f..fuck, mmh,” anton whines, digging his fingers deeper into your waist, “m’ close.. so close.”

you clench hard around him when he speaks. his soft spoken voice sends another wave of arousal through your veins.

“gonna cum deep in me? hm?” you taunt, switching out bouncing to rocking your hips. anton tenses beneath you and you could sense his orgasm.

“y-yes, y/n.. i’m cumming. ah, fuck..” anton couldn’t help but throw his head back again with a silent scream as he paints your throbbing walls with his heavy load, chest heaving heavily.

this was originally requested but erm.. i accidentally deleted it lol

[skyrigel]

“Come back, be here ...”

Pairing: fancast! Benji blackwood x Bracken!reader

Benji masterlist

“ You and Benji meet when sky goes blaze and sun comes up, by the woods. But this time somthing hits different.

Nsfw 18 +, sexual content ahead ( blow job ) and hinted sex, enemies with benefits, smug! Benji, gn! Bracken! Reader, choking, physical shoving and rough reader, Benji being adorable, fluff, sprinkle of fairy dust ( angst ) some team black vs green dispute.

“ What are you doing here ? ”

The twigs crunched by your soles echoed in ten empty woods, the sun was coming up from the horizon where land met sky.

“ You're late.” Benji said, rubbing his eye like he had fallen asleep, bones cracking as he got up from the bottom the trunk where he was sitting, a leather pouch discarded.

“ This wasn't even meant to be.” You spat, eyeing him as he grinned at your anger, already making his way towards you.

“ Why ? ” He said nonchalantly, knowing how much you hated that tone, slurring the ends, “ Because your coward king—”

“ Shut your mouth.” You shoved him, his back hitting the nearest bark, wrapping your fingers around his throat, his eyes locked in yours.

“ or what ? ” He challenged, every sound resonating back in your skin, waves shooting up and down, rippling your heart, he was very much amused when you had no answer.

“ Go, before I kill you traitor. ” You loosened your grip, satisfied to see the four red marks clinging to his cartilage rings, adam apple bobbling when he swallowed hard.

“ Why are we doing this ? ” He pulled you by the back of your neck, his face turning to a scowl.

“ Doing what ? ”

Benji shaked his head like you were being an idiot, “ This.” he said, with more urgency and you huffed before he caught you off guard.

He kissed you, not the first time and as you hoped, not the very last.

But it was different, like all your kisses were more crashing and shearing and reaching for each other while this, this— it was everything the rest weren't. Soft and sweet, a breeze on your mouth, slow and musical, like you had all the time, it was how lovers kissed, so close that his heart was beating in your ribs, so close that sides didn't matter and he was all along in you, with you.

“......” You pulled away when your chest ached for breath, his face was beaming with the crimson patches and lips swollen by you.

“ Do you...” He started, biting his lower lip, you looked away, “ ...you happen to have time.”

“ Not much.” you grabbed at his tunic, pulling it away while his face only heated up like the sun itself.

The moment you took him in your mouth was the moment you changed what has changed, ofcourse, Benji slipped into another person while you were at it, sometimes he would call you ‘darling’, ‘love’ and all those sweet names lovers had the luxury of, but it was forgotten as soon as both of you were in your clothes and senses.

But when he tugged at your hair, whispering sweet nothings with moans only you could make him gasp, or you hoped ( you wished ).

He was praising and guiding as your mouth devoured him whole, sniffing in his musky scent and drowning in his thick juices, he came with cursing “ oh love...” so loud that neither of you could forget it didn't happen.

There was hardly any talking, speaking meant acknowledge of what you were doing and in that case — you both were clueless. You hardly remember how and when this became something that was meant to be.

To meet by the horizon and fuck daylights out of each other wasn't the most fierce rivalry, to speak ill and crude before pulling each other for a kiss that could last lifetimes.

To hold hands as one reached heaven, or presumably hell, each thrust driven with hate, passion and anger and most of all — hope.

Benji and you never kissed after, it was only the initialisation, the ‘ hey, let's fuck.’ and a glare or pathetic attempt to insult was used as ‘ now get the fuck out of my territory ’ with an unsaid, ‘ but be back to me, soon’

So when Benji helped you up your knees, his head leaning against the bark as he show stars in morning blazing sky, before his eyes met you, flushed and pink lips pressed in warm summer sun, softly and sweetly.

“ You are getting good.” and here it was, his pathetic attempt but you were so wrong because that smile, which reached his eyes could never be an insult, and he was still clasping your hand.

You swallowed hard, the sun came up and he was looking at you, his gaze was softer when you looked back, was it today or was it all this time and you never saw, too afraid to fall in those devastingly beautiful eyes, lighting up like mischief.

“ Now get out.”

He chuckled as you pulled, clutching your wrist near your heart, arching your brows because that made you feral — another useless fact Benji had told you.

“ Don't be late—” he bent down, picking his leather pouch along with cloak, displaying his fine ass, shit “ — next time, there's more I want to do. ”

Despite you struggled, keeping the blush under control, or to blame the sun, you felt your whole body stiffening with the mere thought, arousal lurching in your stomach.

“ If you really want to do something,” you took three step back, facing his forward, the sun almost in the sky, blazing his whole face, “ then you could tell your troops on the western front to calm the fuck down, it's annoying.”

“ You didn't answer my question.” He pouted to himself, waving you off.

“ which question ? ” you blinked.

“ Nevermind, next time.” He smirked, you nodded, so there's going to be next time, you held the smile clutched in your cheeks.

“ Right.” you said, nodding while he bobbled in chin in courtesy and walked out of the woods to the blackwood fields.

--------------------------------------------------

“ My leige” A beaded man came rushing, his hand waving a parchment that was crumbled around the edges.

“ Make sure the mother is provided good care —” you turned to him, “ yes ? ”

“ The Blackwood troops dreaded the west aisles... there's been no dispute.”

Something inside you soared high, like bird's first flight and dropped like a free fall, no certainly just a hope.

“...” The said man stared at you, that's when you realised you were smiling your brightest.

“ that's... that's very nice.” You stood up, the woods awaited you.

[inkonparchment]

Leon Kennedy x agent!reader.

sometimes things go wrong on a mission.

tw - mentions of blood and injury. canon typical violence. swearing.

You can barely feel your feet anymore, another wave of nausea rolling over you as you're dragged along.

Despite the chill in the air, there is warmth pooling down your side, gushing out in ribbons of red, over, and under your hand that's pressing on the wound. The pain is coming in waves now; a push and pull, crashing with a sudden ferocity and then ebbing away. Your breaths have now turned shallow, consciousness slipping away like sand through your fingers.

Your head rolls back, eyes heavy, coming to land against a sturdy shoulder. Your brain flickers awake for second, registering a second presence next to you. Strong pair of hands holding you by your waist and one gripping your forearm in a vice-like grip.

Sweat. Blood. Dirt. All of the scents are combined together now.

"Just a little bit more, sweetheart," Leon reassured, voice clipped, "Hang on."

Your feet stagger, speed three paces behind Leon's. You can feel how tense his body is next to yours, muscles fired up in supporting your limp form. And you feel guilt spark in your chest.

"Leon..." You mumble.

"Almost there," He pants, grip tightening.

You muster up your remaining strength to whisper. "I'm only...slowing you down. I-" A groan escapes your lips "-Go on without me."

"No," He cuts you off sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You can't gather any more strength to speak, instead choosing to concentrate more on staying awake. But it would be so easy. So easy to close your eyes, so easy to drift off to sleep; it was calling out to you like a sirens song anyway.

"Hey!" Leon yells in your ear, jostling you by your waist. "Stay with me now!"

Leon bursts in through a door, the bite of the cold wind suddenly gone. He settles you down on a hard surface, making you groan at the loss of heat as he shifts around you. Your fingers are lose at the site of your wound, feeling calloused fingers wrap around your wrist to pry away your hand.

Your eyes come back into focus to see him kneeling in front of you, head tilted down as he pries your shirt away from where its sticking to your body. You frown. His head is tilted down, his hair falling in front of his eyes, hiding them from you.

You feel yourself reach out, fingers brushing against his hair, tucking them away from his face as he finally looks at you, gracing you with the blues of his eyes.

And everything falls away. Everything made irrelevant except for you and him.

There's a muddle of emotions in his eyes, one flashing and disappearing before another takes its place. Worry. Hurt. Guilt. Concern.

You can't seem to find the Leon you remember in there; the one who winks at you when meetings run too long, the one who levels his gaze with you when you're in the office after hours, the one who always finds you in a room, eyes full of mirth.

"You have really pretty eyes," You drawl out in a haze.

He squeezes your hand, gently resting it back against your thigh. He tries for something lighthearted. "You must have lost more blood than I thought.

Your heart squeezes in your chest, "Leon you should-"

He doesn't bother with a reply, just a harsh noise comes from his throat, anger making his shoulders stiffen. "Stop trying to push me away."

Tired. You're so tired. You don't notice the worry flicker across his features, snatching out the emergency first aid kit from his tactical belt. Stitches are the way to go and Leon is about to add to your mountain of pain. Maybe it'll keep you awake.

"Hey," He softly calls out to you, fingers brushing against your cheek, directing you to look at him. His adam's apple bobbles up and down. "I'm gonna stitch you up. No other way about it."

You nod because what else can you do?

And it hurts, God it hurts so much. You don't have the willpower to scream, writhing in your seat, trying to get away from Leon but at the same time gripping at his shoulders to bring him closer.

"Sweetheart," Leon pleads, trying to hold you in place, "I know it hurts, I'm so sorry. But just a minute more and I'll be done. Please, just a little more."

His voice calms you, and the soft, low baritone grounds you, shutting down any urges to buck away from him. You grind your teeth, Leon's ministrations making you alert, no longer wanting to slip away in deep slumber.

"Fuck you, Kennedy," You grit out, "Remind me to never jump in front of a knife for you."

You miss the tremor in his lip, the stiffening of his body as the memory hits again—your scream, the knife, his failure. The sound of your screaming was still echoing in his ears. You don't see his anguish and how it's been eating him away, doubting himself, his skills, and his competence.

"I'm never going to let that happen again." Leon swears with a fierce determination.

You may not see it but you hear it drip in his voice

[rileyslibrary]

I love your sense of humour and have cracked up at your stories multible times. Maby you can find some inspiration in this:

Price ordering the team to an etiquette training so they know how to behave in case they have to go under cover in a more "fancy" environment (or the upcoming mission may require something like this). I'm thinking about Ghosts "sausage fingers" from the origami bit on a delicate litte cake fork... Or him needing to *converse* with someone.

I think putting these hard soldiers in a situation that's out of their comfort zone is always a fun read!

Thank you for letting us enjoy your fantastic writing! <3

Be gentle, man!

Relationship: TF141 x F!Reader with a potential Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader (platonic?) on the horizon. Also there’s an OC in the story.

Word Count: 1,598 (approx. 7-8 min reading time)

Notes: I began writing this last night as a joke, and couldn’t stop. Thank you SO MUCH for inspiring me to do this, anon. It’s a crackfic btw. (There’s a part 2 now here)

———————————————————————

The training room feels out of place compared to its usual purpose. Bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the once-busy gym has been transformed into a classroom for an unlikely lesson—manners, of all things. Table manners, to be precise.

��Talk about Fitness Vs. Finesse,” Soap whispers, and you playfully nudge his side. The comment reaches Gaz’s ears, and he lets out a chuckle. Yet, Price’s death stare reclaims your attention and brings you back to focus.

You all sit around a long, polished mahogany table atop the gym’s boxing ring, admiring the delicate china and crystal glassware set before you. It reminds you of Aunt Claire’s preserved collection, which rarely leaves its cabinet. Lady Theodora, your etiquette instructor, assures you that each piece serves a purpose, and you will put them all to use. Every. Single. One of them.

Lady Theodora, the epitome of timeless confidence, moves gracefully around the table. Her silver hair is slicked back, framing a face that exudes years of wisdom and experience. Her Bordeaux-coloured shawl billows behind her as she glides, catching the gentle breeze her steps create. She pauses behind Price’s chair and reveals the reason behind today’s masterclass: an undercover operation.

“In the world of espionage, where appearances can mean the difference between life and death,” she says in a soft voice, “the art of etiquette becomes a weapon, a shield, and,” she concludes, resting her hand on Price’s shoulder, “your ticket to survival.”

“Bollocks.”

All eyes are drawn to the far end of the table, where a shadowy figure prefers to go unnoticed but isn’t afraid to express doubts. The only visible sign of life is a hand fidgeting with the butterknife.

“I beg your pardon, Lieutenant.” Lady Theodora says, and Ghost leans forward, revealing his unmasked—and visibly annoyed—face.

“We’re soldiers, not knights,” he claims. “Teaching us how to use all these,” he says, motioning to the various utensils before him, “is a waste of time, both yours and mine.”

Lady Theodora regards him gently as if looking at a child throwing a tantrum. She smiles and walks behind him, gripping the back of his chair.

“You seem quite certain of your own competence and doubtful of mine, Mr Riley,” she says, amused.

Ghost tilts his head to the side, partially facing her.

“With all due respect, Lady Theodora,” he replies, “I don’t believe you fully comprehend how such missions operate.”

Lady Theodora lets a light chuckle as she moves closer to Ghost’s face.

“My record of 25 confirmed kills, three of which were accomplished with a butterknife like the one in your hand, might suggest otherwise,” she admits. “Now, would you kindly move your seat forward, Lieutenant? I’ll show you how to act like a proper gentleman.”

Ghost’s Adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows hard. He returns the butterknife to its original position and pushes his chair forward with Lady Theodora’s help.

Gaz clears his throat and looks at Soap.

“Imagine her dinner parties,” he whispers so Price doesn’t hear him, “they must be perfectly executed.”

“Bet she makes a killer soufflé,” Soap whispers back.

You look at them and mutter, “You two are beyond help.” Unfortunately, it’s your own comment that catches Price’s attention this time, and he gives you a stern warning to behave.

“Let’s get started,” Lady Theodora says. “Projecting confidence and grace requires proper posture: sit up straight, shoulders back, and imagine a string pulling you upward from the crown of your head.”

You all adjust your posture, attempting to imitate Lady Theodora. Ghost used to a more relaxed posture, finds it difficult to maintain the required formality. His broad shoulders hunch forward, and he struggles to keep his legs straight.

“Excellent,” Lady Theodora remarks, catching Ghost’s struggle but choosing not to comment further. “Next, we shall delve into the art of dining. Each utensil on the table has a specific purpose, and it is essential to use them correctly.”

She points to the array of utensils laid out before you. Multiple forks, knives, and spoons of various sizes and shapes make the sight overwhelming.

“The outermost utensils are for the earlier courses, while the inner ones are for the later ones.” Lady Theodora says, “It’s like unwrapping a gift, one course at a time.”

You all nod and place the napkin on your lap to begin the process.

Ghost’s ingrained military habits take over when food is served, causing him to devour it quickly. He shovels forkfuls of food into his mouth without looking up and barely pausing to chew.

“Mr Riley,” Lady Theodora addresses Ghost, who shoots his head up to look at her. “I understand the military inclination to eat fast, but we must remember that the food isn’t going anywhere. Take your time, savour each bite, and enjoy your meal, please.”

“Sorry ’bout that.” Ghost mumbles with his mouth full.

Lady Theodora raises an eyebrow. “Mr Riley, it is impolite to speak with your mouth full,” she reminds him. “Please, swallow your food before continuing.”

Ghost swallows and clears his throat. “Apologies, Lady Theodora,” he mutters.

Lady Theodora smiles and nods at Ghost’s response. “Very well, Lieutenant Riley,” she says. “Remember, dining is about more than just the food; it’s also about the company and the experience.”

As the training continues, you witness Soap’s attempts to initiate a proper conversation, only to subconsciously bring up military strategies. Gaz, on the other hand, struggles with small talk and, when asked about his hobbies, blurts out his love of explosions.

“Kerosene is one hell of a—”

“No kerosene talk on the table, Sergeant,” Lady Theodora interrupts. “How about we talk about something more appropriate, like, for example, what did you do today?”

“You’re not going to like it.” He replies.

“Did it involve kerosene?” She asks and receives multiple excited nods from Gaz.

Ghost forgets about his napkin while using the finger bowl and instinctively flicks his hands to dry them. Droplets of water scatter across the table, and Lady Theodora steps forward with a calm smile. She retrieves his napkin and hands it to him. “Remember, Lieutenant,” she whispers, “the napkin is your ally.”

Throughout this ordeal, Price seems to be the only one who already has a natural fluidity in his movements. Like he already knows about etiquette.

You compliment his impeccable manners, but Lady Theodora intervenes before Price can respond.

“Oh, that’s because the Captain already received my services a few years ago,” she reveals, winking.

Price, caught off guard, coughs and sputters, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. After regaining his composure, he clears his throat and grins.

“Yes, well, Lady Theodora’s guidance has been, um, invaluable,” he manages to say and lowers his gaze to his plate. Gaz raises an eyebrow, and Soap gives a sly smile.

With the etiquette training completed, Price gracefully positions his utensils on his plate and folds his napkin. Lady Theodora hands him a file stack, which he distributes to you.

“These files contain detailed background information for your assigned roles,” he explains. “Study them carefully; familiarise yourselves with the personas you will embody, and don’t worry; with Lady Theodora’s help, you’ll have plenty of time to learn how to carry yourselves.”

He watches you all as you take hold of your respective files, scanning the pages and absorbing the details that will shape your performances.

“Gaz, within those pages, you’ll uncover the roadmap to shape your tech persona, along with essential contacts and valuable industry insights,” Price declares.

“A startup entrepreneur,” Gaz mutters and nods, “nice.”

“Soap,” Price continues, “your file contains the lineage and history of an alleged oil tycoon family; you’ll assume the identity of their sole son and heir to the business.”

“Why do I get the oil-moneyed spoiled brat?” Soap protests, “Gaz is the one obsessed with fossil fuel!”

Price looks at Lady Theodora, silently begging her to take the lead.

“Focus on embodying the demeanour of an heir, Sergeant MacTavish,” she comforts Soap. “Acquiring in-depth knowledge of the business is not a top priority now.”

Finally, Price shifts his focus to you and Ghost. His voice softens, and a smile appears on his lips.

“As for the two of you,” he says, “your assignment requires a convincing portrayal of a couple.”

You and Ghost exchange a brief look before returning your focus to the files in your hands.

“Laswell will provide you with a forged marriage certificate and photos of your alleged relationship,” Price continues. “The documents will serve as tangible proof if the need to validate your connection arises.”

“Any chance to let us know who or what we’re after?” Gaz asks, and Price shakes his head.

“Baby steps, Sergeant; we’re waiting for Laswell to give us more intel,” he explains, “but as far as we know, we’re dealing with people who can buy their way out of some very sketchy shit.”

“Language, Captain.” Lady Theodora reminds him.

“Please accept my sincere apologies, Theodora,” he says and turns to Gaz. “I meant sketchy things, Sergeant.”

As they continue discussing the mission, your mind wanders on the latest information. Ghost’s partner? How? You look at the file and then back at Ghost. You see Lady Theodora walking behind Ghost’s chair and leaning close to his ear. She looks at you and whispers to him.

“I told you, Lieutenant,” she says, “I’ll mould you into a proper gentleman.”

Ghost turns to face you as well. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, Lady Theodora,” he replies.

But Lady Theodora smiles and touches his shoulder, “Oh, you’ll see, Mr Riley—you’re my gift to unwrap, one course at a time.”

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

[g-xix]

🔞Rockstar Gf | James Marriott

Getting back to the hotel room after a gig where he had his forearms exposed n sleeves ridden up showing forearm definition whilst he shredded his guitar - button down w the top two buttons un done, tie loosely hanging from around his collar ever so sluttily - thin sheen of sweat giving him an almost God-like glowing aura, running his hand through his mullet and shaking out the cropped locks so gloriously you could only watch and stare from backstage with your heartbeat between your legs... 2.1k wordcount self-indulgent fic of a horny rockstar!gf x rockstar!James Marriott, featuring blowjobs, finishing inside the reader + cute aftercare, and brief mentions of cockwarming, masochism/sadism, hair-pulling and spit

Imagine rockstar!gf reader that can't stop herself from pinning James down after seeing him onstage for the first day of his tour, back in the hotel room barely allowing him to walk through the door before tackling him onto the bed - or chair - you were too desperate to differentiate either, straddling your legs over either side of his and smashing your lips on top of his - frenziedly pushing your bodies as humanely close as possible whilst his lips moved against yours - trying to synchronise with the ravenous pace you initiated.

Your boyfriend was sweet, domestic, funny, caring and loving. Goofy and cute, in his matching pyjamas whilst he watched your shows with you before sleeping, or would cuddle you from behind whilst you worked on your laptop with sleepy eyes and tired types.

But an hour ago?

Seeing him with the top part of his button up open and exposed, chest visible with each heave and shout of lyric - tie sluttily loosened and practically begging for you to use it as a lever to pull him closer to you - thin sheen of sweat from exertion giving him an almost God-like glow, silhouette casted with a golden aura of flashing lights behind him - his hand running through cropped locks, shaking his mullet gloriously and allowing the gleaming black to illuminate crimson about the flyaway strands - painting a near biblical radiance to your boyfriend that you'd never seen before...?

You were in awe as you watched from the backstage, lips ajar and eyes fixated, body unmoving and completely thunderstruck from the sight of James shredding the chords of his guitar, his forearms exposed by ridden up sleeves and angled lights which defined his muscles by tenfold which stunned you into inertia - the only movement being the heartbeat you could feel between your thighs. 

"That is the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen," You broke away from James with a gasp for breath, not even letting him reply as you wrapped your knuckles with his tie and fulfilled that fantasy of using it to pull him forwards and crash his lips back into yours, meeting in a wet open-mouthed kiss which you dominated.

The feeling of James' hands, fingertips roughened from plucking guitar strings, scaling over your thighs on either side of his body had you practically racing for him to speed up and touch you further up. Unbeknown to you, it wasn't just you that'd been thirsting for someone all night - as James had caught himself looking off to the side to stare at you in your low cut top and teeny tiny miniskirt all too many times, the sight of a red thong strap peeking from just beneath the denim giving him thoughts that were dangerous to be having in front of thousands of people.

His hands reached under your skirt, tracing around your plush behind and feeling the softness beneath that skirt which he'd been thinking of for so long. And his motions only triggered you to begin grinding down - pressing your hips flush with his and gyrating fluidly over the bulge you felt rapidly forming beneath you - James breaking the kiss to throw his head back and let out a groan at the stimulation, voice breaking slightly initially, sending a heat down to your core at the little noise.

James' lips glistened, adams apple bobbling at he gulped down precious oxygen, pallid skin of his neck open and exposed - practically inviting you to close the gap by biting down on the soft spot between collarbone and neck, licking a line down before creating a suction to leave a hickey and mark your boyfriend up.

"Fuck, that's gna - that's gonna show -" James panted.

"You want me to stop?"

You smirked as James shook his head regardless of the fact that the bruises across his neck would be visible at his next show, pressing a sweet kiss against his jaw as a little show of praise, before leaving another dark hickey to bloom besides the previous one you'd created.

Feeling James' index and middle finger swipe over your clothed core and press into the dampness through your panties, you withdrew from James' neck and burrowed your face besides James' - back arching to the touch and trying to find some sort of stimulation against your clit. Instead, James granted the pleasure of pulling your panties to the side, before his middle finger traced your folds up to your clit and used your arousal as lubricant to trace tight figures of eight over the sensitive nub, your heavy breaths and high pitchy sounds music to James' ears as your hips moved synchronously with his fingers, echoing his movements and proving just how horny you were with the desperate bucking of your hips.

Yet you fought against James' fingers, pulling away and getting off of his lap, remembering what you'd really wanted to do. Dropping down to your knees in front of James, batting your eyelashes up sensually at him as you kneeled between his manspread legs, fulfilling those lustful thoughts you'd battled with whilst James was onstage - fiending to show him just how deserving he was of something special for how irreverently glorious he had looked. 

And now, between his legs, you tackled his belt, unshackling him from his jeans and pulling the denim down to see the boxers beneath - already tented with a bulge which your palm trailed up his thigh to press flat against, rubbing the shaft through the material - your fingers with long acrylics grasping around the meat through his boxers and listening to the groan that fell from James' lips gratifiedly. This was his reward. 

You shoved his cock into your mouth almost greedily, the way your lips were instantly around his length as soon as you freed him from his boxers - his sensitive tip touching the back of your throat all too quickly - the feeling causing James to throw his head back - his fingers tangling around the back of your scalp, around swathes of hair in a reflex response to the fast pleasure which shot through his body as you could feel his thick muscles clenching around your head - quads tightening and filling a your ears with a buzz of excitement as you gulped his cock.

Bobbing your head- again and again - your pillowy lips happily around his length, cheeks behind them hollowing and fastening around your boyfriend, massaging his cock with the smooth tissue and only further stimulating and eliciting groans from your man as your tongue traced the underside of him - expertly using your mouth to ensure that you rewarded James sufficiently - showed him just how much he deserved after how fucking delicious he looked, fingers strumming over the guitar and head tossed back as he sung, adams apple highlighted with exertion as he gulped and sang and made you wish he was between your legs, using those same fingers and mouth to do far filthier things to you instead.

James was so respectful whilst you looked up and batted your eyelashes at him with his cock in your mouth - so good - never bucking his hips or pushing your head down, skull-fucking you or using you... If only he realised how much he had earned a right to treat you like that, now. Little did he know, but you'd let him pin you to the wall and slam his hips into you, literally crush your windpipe and orally obliterate you against the wall - spit in your mouth and choke you, if that was what pleasured him.

You wouldn't mind; 

He well and truly earnt it.

Your drool spilled from the corners of your mouth, leaking down his cock and further lubricating your actions as you didn't even slurp to collect it back up - letting the saliva drip down from his length to his balls, messily covering his sex and making for disgustingly pornographic noises which had James' head spinning as his fingers clenched around your scalp, tightening his grip around your hair as he squeezed his eyes shut, muttering through clenched teeth "Close- so close - so fucken' close, sweetheart'-"

Your hand joined your mouth, grasping around the base and sliding over the skin, your spit in abundance and lubricating your movements as your mouth popped off of his cock, tongue running up and down his shaft, feeling out the prominent vein of his underside and stimulating that vessel, increasing blood flow and the intensity of his erection as your hand moved in the same fashion.

"Where you wanna finish? Where, where, you just name it-" You almost sounded desperate to pleasure him - as though you loved this more than James. And James was too lost in the pre-climax haze to even care.

"Inside-" He almost gasped between his laboured breaths, and you didn't even consider which hole he meant, because you knew where you wanted him to finish inside of you.

Hastily rushing off your knees and onto your feet instead, your panties had already courteously been pushed aside previously by James, and straddling his hips - you didn't waste a single second in lining James up before plunging his length inside of you, sinking down on his cock and letting your own head roll back, lifting yourself up and frantically riding his cock - not only aiming to fulfil James' release, but now yours, also. 

James' hand met your jaw, pulling your head downwards to face his own - his thumb pushing between your already open lips and pressing down on your tongue, muffling your moan as you wrapped your lips around his digit instead, his thumb and fingers levering your gaze down and forcing your eyes to meet his, the visceral eye contact with your lover amongst the passion of the moment causing the throbbing in your lower stomach to increase in frequency, becoming sharper and making you tighten around James, his own cock pulsing and stimulating you - your joint physical responses triggering each others' orgasms - heat unfurling within your stomach as your bounces slowed, legs cramping as a wave of euphoria crashed over you - the feeling of your cervix being covered with James' climax a sign of his orgasm, also, as the both of you relieved all that tension and craving you'd yearned during the concert - relaxing your legs and slowing to a halt - resting your head on James' shoulder and allowing heart rate to slow back down to a normal pace whilst you just cockwarmed James, his hand pressing and patting against your back lovingly as he felt your own heartrate pumping against his chest.

"What was all that special treatment for?" James turned around to look at you - lying naked on the bed like a piece of artwork which James admired from the bathroom doorway as he ran a bath for the two of you to share.

"That was for looking so damn sexy when you were performing," You grinned up at your spouse, truly enamoured as you watched his brows raise slightly, eyes widening despite his wholesome smile which widened in a clear sign of humble flusterment as the compliment and affirmation. "Guess I just couldn't help myself."

A squeal, followed by a bursting laugh left your lips as James scooped your body effortlessly up from the bed, letting you wrap your arms around his neck and squirm happily as he peppered your neck and face with a myriad of little kisses whilst he held you bridal style - carrying you to the en suite which donned a ridiculously big bath (that had also been filled with bubbles and an assortment of soaps and scents, thanks to James' little potion making session with your travel bag.)

"I could get used to that." James admit happily, dropping a little wink as he lowered you into the bath, dunking his forearms into the bubbles as you were submerged and wrapped in the perfectly warm water - James wet arms returning from the water and flicking the droplets off of his fingers and onto you instead, making you wrinkle your nose and turn away at James' annoying behaviour before you turned back around - wanting to call him a prick or give him a comment, until you found yourself silenced with a dopey smile, admiring your boyfriend's forearms as he worked on unbuttoning his shirt, exposing himself button by button with those burly forearms which showed muscular definition with each movement, enchanting you and making you rest your head in your hands as you just watched him lovingly.

"Good thing you're touring, I get this view every week for the next month." You sighed contentedly.

"Oh, is that to say I can get this treatment every night I play?" James looked up through his lashes at you with a smirk, loving the idea already.

 You giggled at his eagerness and shrugged - though you still leaned from the tub and held eye contact as you flirted back: "Don't even tempt me because you know damn well I will..."

And James' grin tripled in size. Because like you said - he knew damn well that you would. 

First James Marriott smut!!! Enjoyed?? Do give some constructive criticism in the replies xxx

Hope you enjoyed reading!! Feel free to interact- whether that be a comment, vote or follow! Requests open, feel free to submit what u wanna see... Much love!!

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[mothmothwoth]

fanart of Pomme being exposed to the horrors with sketches of Chaya and Leo who are not doing so well either

idk who the hell put so much dirt on the eggs but like- they better be okay- I will cry

under the page break for Pomme close up and design notes bc I’m actually proud of something I drew for once :>

I saw a post that said the paint smeared on Pommes checks made it look like she was crying and that fucking clocked me so I had to put that there (it might not come across tho)

she also lost a shoe in the struggle, tore her stockings, got covered in dirt, and ripped her wings. In my mind her wings are like those fake toile fairy wings you get for like little kid costumes. Those wings have wire on the edges so that why the outside edge is saturated and the rip pattern is like that

I gave her APPLE POCKETS this is common for pomme designs but it just makes me really happy. ALSO her hair is in bubble braids bc they shape of each little bobble reminds me of an apple again so.

also Leonarda has earrings on for her design normally so in this tattered look her earring got torn off. Oh! And her hat has a tear in it along with being askew like her cubito. And when I think of Leo I think of her silly ass dog head so I gave her a bigger nose and smaller eyes to try and capture the joy I feel looking at that stupid dog (/pos) Also chayannes duck lost an eye :(

[suiana]

c-can we plz have more of the silly yan!door dasher.

but like..we become friends with him and we actually put up with his antics<3

(gn reader is done with this silly door dasher) (this is when they're already friends)

"ugh... can you come in through the front door next time... stop climbing in through the window, it's creepy."

you groan, staring at the food delivery driver as he holds up a box of fried chicken. he smiles bashfully, rubbing the back of his head with his other hand. his adam's apple bobbles up and down as he swallows his saliva.

yeah... why didn't he just do that? it wasn't night and you were expecting him so he didn't have to sneak around...

"haha... just wanted to, um, give you an extra surprise is all!"

the male coughs up an excuse as he sets down the box of fried chicken. shit, what if you find out how weird and creepy he truly is?! what if you-

"whatever, just come in like a normal person next time."

the male smiles, nodding enthusiastically as he pulls out a chair for you sit in. his fear disappears just as quickly as it came as you started ranting about how boring your day was while eating the crispy fried chicken he brought over.

phew, thank goodness you were used to his antics! would've been bad if you started suspecting things haha!

[berrybeca]

Locked, right? - Blaise Z.

first smut posted??? sorry if i talk about balls a lot :c , i saw the clip from ‘La Storia’ with lorenzo zurzolo’s balls and i have been thinking about it ever since. blaise is my pookie cookie...

cw: public-ish sex, choking, praising?, use of cum as lube, power struggle, established relationship

blaise’s hands cup your cheeks, bringing your face to hide into his neck as he shushes you gently, caressing your spine with the pad of his thumb. he holds your naked figure in his lap, his jeans rubbing against your thighs, but your hands work on unbuttoning his white shirt, his sweater long gone now.

“yeah, yeah… that’s fucking great, sweets.” he mumbles, the praises being like second-nature when it came to sex with him, absolutely spoiling you by coating you in his warm words, mind numb as he reaches down to your socks, removing them and throwing them to the floor.

the train wobbles, causing even more friction between you both. he pulls you even closer, your chest pressing against his as be melts down into the seat, placing you on his abs as he unbuttons his trousers, messy kisses pressed on his face by your bitten lips. paranoia gets the best of you, and you look to the door of the cabin, just to make sure it’s locked.

he slides his pants down to his ankles, boxers falling with them as he massages your waist, placing you back down on his lap with his cock pressing against your belly, balls resting beneath your cunt. “y’wanna keep kissing me, huh? missed me that much?” he asks, lips swollen by the amount of kisses and bites pressed on them.

he grunts, throwing his head back as he massages your hips, grinding his hips on yours, rubbing yourself on his sack. sure, he had been rubbing his cock during all of winter break, just missing and thinking about you - his lovely girlfriend, but he was never as emptied out as after the multiple rounds you had the previous year.

“i missed you so much, baby… mmh.” you murmur, nose pressed against his cheek as you kiss his jawline desperately, his warm hands running down to your clit, your naked body desperate for the warmth he provides when you press yourself against his chest.

your arousal pools on his crotch, the bumpy tracks that lead to Hogwarts only adding to the pleasure, the beautiful Scottish countryside just outside of the window. It was more than luck to have been able to get a cabin all to yourselves, your Slytherin friends innocently awaiting for you both.

he slides your hips, on the now 'lubed' area of his crotch, your juices making it all more enjoyable as you ride his sack, his mushroom-like tip leaking pre-cum on your tummy. you push yourself off his chest, keeping him at eye-level as you start, with his hands helping and guiding your hips, to bounce up and down on the base of his penis, essentially edging the both of you by not putting it in yet.

your hands find their designed place, the movement almost mechanic, holding onto his shoulders, thumb darting to the side, pressing down on his adam's apple, causing a grunt to escape his lips, your hands now crawl towards his neck, holding onto the base, both thumbs having a firm, yet loving, grip on his adam's apple, that bobbles in your grip. his hands tremble on your hips, but he quickly regains his posture and goes back to bouncing you up and down, side to side, front to back on his balls.

his cock twitches against your tummy, pre-cum leaking onto your soft flesh that he quickly wipes off with his index finger, rubbing it off on your pebbled nipple, as he starts to roll his fingers on it, the slight 'lube' used and the overall sensation makes your grip falter, but you - much like your stubborn boyfriend - refuse to let go to the pleasure, and you tighten your grip around his neck, pressing harder on his bobbing adam’s apple.

“come on, baby, have mercy and let me put it in. you know she misses me…” he coos, pulling you closer to him with his best patronizing, yet still desperate stare, rubbing your crotch against the base of his cock. he groans, almost a whiny undertone in his voice, eyebrows tightly knit, and you can tell he’s seconds away from losing his patience.

--

sorry, decided to edge you guys for this one... just kinda lost steam and confidence i guess. let me know if you liked it, and as always, requests are open and encouraged!!!

[shewhowillrise]

Omega!Dick/Alpha!Slade Prompt (pre identity reveal)

The Batman has bought Slade off from doing any contracts in Gotham. A continuous contract that if Slade is offered money for a contract in Gotham, Batman will pay him double not to do it.

Nightwing has asked Slade to kill someone in Gotham for him.

“And what, little bird, do you have that would trump daddy bat’s money?”

“My first mature heat,” the hero says, not wavering. And that makes Slade pause for the first time in a while.

The Bat’s orientations have been a well regarded secret. Not only is Nightwing offering up his heat, but he has offered up the information that not only is he an omega, but that he hasn’t had an alpha yet to trigger a non-pubescent heat.

He’s untouched.

“And who is it you want dead?”

“Jack Napier, th-”

“The Joker, I know,” Slade says, tilting his squinting his eye at the bird, “and why now? After all he’s done?”

At this, Nightwing shifted, but his eye contact with Slade didn’t waver, “because he killed my brother.”

Slade crowds into Nightwing’s space, making the kid have to tilt his head up, “and what do I get upfront incase you run away while I dispose of the clown?”

Slade can see Nightwing’s adam’s apple bobble, “that was my upfront offer.”

Nightwing’s startled by Slade pushing him to the wall, “and after?”

“P-Permission to-” Slade’s teeth scratch at Nightwing’s gland, “claim me.”

[milliondollarwomen]

Well Hello

tom blyth x fem reader

word count 1.9k

mature content 18+

https://www.tumblr.com/daemonslover/740468521162653696/well-hello-part-2?source=share

Part 2 ^^^^^

overview: you meet him and the bar and he has to claim you.

hey y’all this is my first time writing like this! so please let me know if you guys liked it.

As you entered the bar, you could hear people talking and drinks clinking. A captivating figure was leaning casually on the counter. His commanding British accent drew you in right away. You decide to head over his way to see if he will notice you and as you stand next him waiting for the bartender he looks at you. "Well, hello," this mysterious man greets me. His smile is charming without being overly cheesy and he possesses dark curly hair that isn't too curly, along with the most stunning blue eyes you've ever laid eyes on. He was probably wondering why I did not react after I stared at him for a while.

"Hi" you responded not knowing what to do or how to act and all he did was say hello but already you felt anxious. "Are you from around here, love?" The way it slipped from his lips, love, was enough to make you melt. "No, I just moved here for graduate school. I'm going to NYU, and you?" When you told him you were a graduate student, he tilted his head slightly, which made you wonder what it was about that interested him; however, you refrained from making too much of it. "Ah well, congratulations, but yes, I am, and I've been here for quite some time,"

you were intrigued and wanted to learn more about him. As he spoke, he sipped from his cup; you couldn't help but notice the way he held it, how it landed on his lips, and how his Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed. It was enough to make your mouth water. It was puzzling to you how a guy you had only known for five minutes could evoke such strong emotions in you. "so, what do you do for work or are you in school as well?"

With a look of surprise on his face, he shifted his gaze towards you. "I do a lot of things, none of which concern you, dove, but I would love to buy you a drink. So tell me all about yourself." you can't say that you blame him for avoiding the subject; after all, you are just an odd woman who wants to know where he works or if he's in school. In the course of your conversation, you told him that your undergraduate major was sociology, that you were lonely here, and that you had hoped to make some new friends if you ventured out more. After blabbing your mouth for the next 30 minutes, you realized how open you were to this man you had never met. He may be a murderer for all you know. His eyes pierced through you as you pondered why you told him these things about yourself, and then he assertively said, "Tell me what you're thinking about." It jolted you out of your nervous thoughts, "I just told you about myself and I have no idea who you are."

Unexpectedly, he grinned at you. To him, it seemed like you were exactly where he wanted you to be. Before you stepped next to him, Tom spotted you—even though he hadn't planned on meeting a woman tonight. He could tell you were a newcomer to the city. Your awkwardness when approaching the bartender for a drink and your rushed search for someone to talk to was clearly noticeable. He could see right through you. He took pleasure in the idea of dominating others, particularly those who sought out his presence and placed their trust in him. Claiming that you were lonely and in need of someone sparked his interest in you.

He grasped your fingers, entwined them, and rubbed circles around your thumb. "my love, let me apologize for my rudeness earlier I just don't open up to many people but you have made me feel comfortable." This made you feel relieved. "I'm a teacher, but I grew up in Birmingham, I moved here a couple years ago for the job and have loved it ever since" He realized he needed to exhibit his softer side to entice you back, and that is exactly what he did. The way your eyes softened when he discussed relocating here and teaching made him want to do unexplainable things to you. This was so easy for him all he had to do was throw the word love or dove around and you would cave.

After that, you gradually picked up on his flirting, massaging your thumb, and calling you pet names. With the courage of alcohol, you thought you could seize this opportunity. You move forward and whisper in his ear, "Well I think teachers are sexy," and you can see his jaw clench as he realizes how forward you are being with him. He glanced at you with passion before grabbing your waist. You were so close you feared you'd be unable to breathe. "Don't start something you can't finish," his aggressiveness made you weak in the knees. You began to feel the warmth rise between your legs. All it took was you to look at him like you were begging for him to be inside you. he grabbed your arm and lead you out of the bar. "you're coming home with me" this instantly made you regret your decision, you'd thought it be fun to tease him but you didn't think he would take you home.

Before he called a taxi, you looked at him with nervous eyes, "Honestly I should get going, I just moved in and need to get settled I-" before you could finish your sentence, he pulled you to the side and leaned into you, "Oh dove, you can't tease me in there and expect to get away with it" he lightly grabbed your throat and ran his hand up to rub his thumb across your mouth, "You're going to be a good girl okay?" This made you think this man is bad news, but his dominance over you gave you chills. "okay I'm sorry" was all you could manage out of your mouth.

When we arrived at his place, all you could see was how immaculate and tidy it was. Coming from college, most boys/men's homes are awful. After scanning the room, he observed how interested you were. Simply adoring you. You look over at him as he sits on the couch, straight passion in his eyes. This made you want to puke since you knew what he wanted. "Come here" he said, making your stomach drop. you cautiously approach him, and he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to your knees. "Now I just met you and I understand you may not know how things work but teasing me and then trying to back out isn't going to work dove" As he reprimands you, he effortlessly puts his thumb into your mouth. He moves it around, gets wet, and rubs it against your lips. Your eyes were wide and large, ready for his next move. This makes your panties soaked for him.

He keeps a close eye on me, knowing that you have no idea what his next move will be. With that, he unbuckles his pants and removes his boxers, revealing that he is very well endowed. His cock is extremely hard for you. You observe how the veins transport so much blood to the tip. It's crimson with precum. "Now be a good girl and suck my cock," he demands. You shove him into your mouth and beginning to bob your head back and forth. He immediately begins to grunt as he watches you suck him off. "Fuck, you're being so good for me," he says. It makes your pussy ache for him. Looking up at him and seeing him appreciate your lips around him only makes you desire him more.

You get bored of giving him head, which makes him angry. He grabs the back of your head and fucks your mouth till you are unable to breathe. After he is pleased, he pulls you up and clutches your neck, "You will stop when I tell you to stop." This instills terror in your eyes, which turns him on and uses to fuel himself. He pushes you onto the couch and begins pulling your clothes off left and right. He hovers over you while you lay there naked and exposed. "Please touch me" you implore. "Please what?" he taunts you, as if your pussy isn't throbbing to be touched. "Please, sir, please touch me" and he begins to rub circles on your pussy, causing you to jerk and squirm. He enjoys witnessing how easy it is to fulfill you.

"Oh fuck, don't stop," you moan, and he promptly stops. "You don't tell me what to do, I've been too passive with you; you need to learn a lesson," he says as he flips you over and shoves his cock inside you. His size made you shout out, unable to adjust. After a few strokes, pleasure begins to surge in your stomach. "Sir, you feel so good." Those words caused him to slam into your tight pussy even harder. "You're such a good girl, taking all of me in your tight pussy." Hearing him speak to you in such a humiliating manner turned you on. His cock began to twitch inside you, eventually spilling all of his seed. He pulled out and watched you collapse on the couch, watching all of his sperm run out of your pussy.

"you are mine now"

Two weeks later

It had been two weeks since you last saw the man you met at the bar, and you still hadn't gotten his name. You awoke this morning ready to begin the day because it was your first day of graduate school. You were worried but eager to begin courses. You'd gotten up, showered, blow-dried, and styled your hair. You wanted to make a good first impression because you did not know anyone yet. You put on light makeup and got dressed.

Fortunately, when shopping for apartments, you discovered one close to campus, so you could walk to your first class. Today, you had your first class at 9:00 a.m. Walking through New York, you simply absorbed everything in, watching people and soaking up your surroundings. You had a feeling this was the right place to be, and you were excited for the journey to begin. When you arrived on campus, you entered the building and found your classroom. You arrived a little early, so you decided to walk in and take a seat. There were a few students already in the room.

The girl sitting next to you looked over and smiled, "Hi, my name is Emily," which let you relax even more. "Hi, my name is y/n." With that, we began talking about where we were from and what other classes we were attending. The class became larger, and it was finally time to begin. The professor strolled in and said the normal hey, my name is yada yada. After reviewing the curriculum and taking notes, a man walks in. "I'm sorry for being late, professor; it won't happen again." Before lifting your head, you knew that British voice. It made you shiver in your chair. "Sorry for the interruption, class. This is Tom Blyth; he's been working for me for two years and will be assisting this semester." You cautiously raise your head, hoping it's not who you think it is. And there's the man you met in the bar, smirking at you.

[yuyubeans]

him.

pairing: mingi x cuteness

genre: me loving mingi

wc: 105

mingi is so pretty. his little donut lips, his pretty monolids with moles all over his beautiful tan skin, he deserves to be painted in kisses he's so... everything. his little bobbling adams apple, his loud laugh, omg he laughs at everything, either way, he's so beautiful, his face, his personality, his soul, ALSO, IF I MEET THOSE FUCKING BITCHES WHO DIDN'T EAT WITH HIM I'M GONNA FUCKING BREAK THEIR NECKS, LIKE HOW DARE YOUUUUU. anws, as I was saying, his pouty lips!! he legit is ":3" like tell me he's not cos he is, my little chicken fajita with nachos on the side :D

a/n: I love mingi so much 😔, this came in my head when I read this anws, I'd love feedback or like insults on my layout, idm man anws bye

© yuyubeans, 2024.

[holylulusworld]

Cookies

Summary: Cookies make everything better.

Square filled for @anyfandomfluffbingo: Square 5: Free space - Sharing food

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, implied bad date

“Whatcha doing, sweetheart?“ Dean strolls into the library, grinning from ear to ear. He’s carrying two paper bags filled with his favorite poison. Booze, sex magazines, and fatty food. “Oh…” He licks his lips. “COOKIES!”

He inhales deeply, almost purring. His mouth waters when he catches the scent of your freshly baked cookies.

“Dean, you are drooling.” You grin. “What did you buy?”

“Can I have one?” Dean places the bags on the table. He steals one of your cookies, immediately feasting on it. “Damn, that’s the best cookie I ever ate. Why did you bake them? Is it a special occasion?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you huff, and take another bite of your cookie. “My mom always said cookies make everything better. I didn’t want to get upset with that douchebag asking me out, and decided it’s better to bake cookies.”

“I’m not complaining,” Dean munches another cookie. “But who do you want me to kill? Give me that bastard’s name and I’ll break his face.” 

“How do you wanna know it’s a guy?” You smirk as Dean opens his mouth. He licks his lips, swallows thickly, and goes back to eating cookies. If he tells you what’s on his mind, you’ll strangle him. “Dirty man!” You scold, knowing Dean is confusing porn with reality again. 

“It as a dude…right?” He dips his head. His Adam’s apple bobbles, and he rubs his hand over his crotch. “Or was it a pretty dame?”

You giggle at Dean’s hopeful expression. “You are a fucking perv, Winchester! Even if it was a girl, you are not invited to watch.”

“But…” Dean bites his tongue. “Why the cookies?” He asks.

“If I’m mad, or sad,” you sigh deeply, “I bake. We only had the ingredients for cookies. I would’ve baked a pie but…”

“PIE? Wait…Did you want to bake a pie? Why didn’t you do it? Where is my pie?” Dean stares at you, looking offended as you didn’t make pie instead of cookies.

“I didn’t have the ingredients for pie!“ You point out. “We need to restock first.”

“What do you need?” He grabs the next best book and a pencil. “Let me write it down. I’ll get the ingredients and you can make my pie.”

“Dean,” you snicker as he expectantly looks at you. “We can’t use the book! Sammy will get mad and…uh…I need to check on my recipes first.”

“Recipes,” he nods thoughtfully. “Alright. We will bring the food and cookies to the Dean Cave. You’ll get your recipes, and we will write down what Sammy needs to buy.”

“Dean.”

“Yeah?” He looks at the remaining cookies.

“Nothing.” You don’t have the heart to tell Dean you’re not in the mood to make pie too. “We can make the pie tomorrow. I've got two more baking trays of cookies left.”

“Two. More. Trays.” Dean’s eyes widen. “I’ll be right back…”

“Apple pie. Pecan pie. Cherry pie,” Dean thumbs through your receipt book. “Hmm…we will start with cherry pie. Next is pecan and then we will go for some good all apple pie.”

“Dean…” You watch your friend munch on your cookies while reading another recipe. “What about blueberry.”

“Oh, yeah. We will make blueberry pie too,” he hums. “Do you want to watch a movie or something? I thought about Caddy-“

“Caddyshack!” You end Dean's line. “A classic.”

He slams your receipt book shut and looks at you. “Tomorrow we will make some pie.”

Dean gets comfortable on the sofa, patting the spot next to him. You scoot closer and rest your head in his lap. “Caddyshack it is.”

“So…who was the douche making you sad and do you want me to kill him?”

Tags in reblog.

[in-halingstardust]

Helo helooo I'm here because of a brainrot of mine that's been hunting me ever since I saw Dan Heng's dragon form. Reader licking sub Dan Heng's horns?? Holding his horns got me so feral already but I wonder what kind of reactions he will give if we lick it hehe ( ͝° ͜ʖ͡°)

A/N: omg omg omg omg. BRAIN ROT IS RIGHT gah damn. (♡´艸`) anon ur opening up new doors in my mind frfr !mdni

˚₊· ➳❥ Like listen- you definitely be straddling Dan Heng, and his tits would always be plush and pushing against you as you struggle to reach towards his horns.

˚₊· ➳❥ He is such a good boy; you know! He wants to fondle your ass and suck on your nipples until they were red and sore, but he can't! Not with the way you lean against him trying your best to flick your tongue against his horns. A couple of kitten licks and Dan Heng is already buckling against you as he leans his head back against exposing his Adam's apple as it bobbles. ♡

˚₊· ➳❥ You coo, "Aww Dan Heng I haven't even worked on you yet." Another lick and his hands grip your ass hosting you a couple inches higher giving you more access to his horns. "You're such a good boy, telling me what you want."

˚₊· ➳❥ His tips glow an ethereal of blue and white, creamy...♡ With new length, you put the tip of his horn into your mouth and roll your tongue around it. Dan Heng gives an un-sightly moan, pressing you against him. You were afraid the chair would tip at your weight with the way he was holding you.

˚₊· ➳❥ Who knew Dan Heng was so sensitive? As you gave long swipes up and down each horn you could feel him leaking through his pants onto your panties as he set you against him. Your pussy to his crotch as he rolled into you, mewing for you to take his clothes off, to ride him, to not stop, no matter what. ♡

[drewsbuzzcut]

Can you write something where Y/N and Mat are horny and they dry hump on the couch or the bed ?

Warnings: smut

“I missed you so much,” Mat groans, sucking on your throat.

His hands are splayed out on your hips, trying to control your erratic movements. You can’t help but grind against his hard, clothed cock. You haven’t seen your boyfriend in a week, and you haven’t had sex for longer. You do not have patience for his pace.

“I want you,” you murmur with a teasing buck of your hips.

“I know, baby. I can feel how wet you are,” he whispers in your ear, turning your whimper into a groan when he takes your earlobe between his lips.

You just know your pathetic excuse for underwear is soaked with arousal. You can feel it between your legs and apparently Mat can feel it too.

“So do something about it,” you sass, pulling on locks of his hair.

When he tilts his head back, you get the perfect view of his Adam’s apple and the way it bobbles when you touch it. Everything about your man is so attractive and you’d be damned if you didn’t indulge in him.

He pulls you in, a hand ripping off one side of your shirt while his lips lock with yours. Your breasts become exposed and Mat wastes no time groping them.

“Fuck,” you cry. Since it’s been a while, you’re ultra sensitive. Every little move Mat makes sets you on fire.

Your tongue pushes into his mouth, curling around his. You continue to move over his lap, rolling your pussy into his hard on for a smidge of friction.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Get yourself off on me,” he mutters into the kiss.

Your cheeks become flushed and your hair gets tousled as you roll your hips into his. The thickness of his length nudges your clit and it sends you reeling. Whimpers and whines rip out from your mouth, perfectly synchronized with Mat’s low moans.

“I’m gonna cum,” you announce as you feel the knot tighten in your tummy. Your core clenches down angrily at the fact that you’re not being filled up.

“That’s it, baby. Make a mess,” he grunts, hands moving your hips to his own pace.

He pulls your lips down on his, taking charge over your hungered state. His tongue thrusts down your throat and he swallows every sound you make. Pulling away, you’re left breathless and even more disheveled.

You speed up your pace once you feel the knot start untangle. Everything goes black and the force of your release washes over you. Your body arches into your boyfriend and his mouth catches one of your nipples.

“Oh my god,” you cry, nails digging into Mat’s skin to keep your body from succumbing to your trembles.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl. I love you, baby,” he talks you through your high, his hands pressing you into him. He subtly ruts his hips into your pussy, making sure your orgasm is completely satisfying.

You twitch against his chest, but your breathing finally calms down. Everything else around you becomes hazy, though.

“I love you,” you whisper through a raspy voice.

“You made me cum in my shorts,” Mat admits and you let out a little giggle.

“I can’t believe you just let me dry hump you.”

“It was hot. You’re hot,” he says simply. He’s not lying, you look absolutely delectable fucking yourself on him. He loves the way you get flushed and how crazy your hair gets.

“You’re hot, too, Barzy.”

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

AAAHHH I adore the most recent chapter for SbITILYP!!!! I think our protagonist is beginning to catch some feelings too...

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 24

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 9,391

There is a kidnapping. Hiccup rushes into things and also admits he is an environmental terrorist, privately.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Worst In Show, unedited, Hiccup’s POV, Reader’s POV

&lt;Previous - Next>

You peered in from around a corner, a small basin pressed to your middle, your hands gripping at the hands on either side of it. 

You were alone, besides Hiccup, who you were sure hadn’t noticed you yet, because you were definitely not spying.

He held up a Terror in his hands a ways away in a clearing between huts staring up at it in the yellow light. It looked a lot like a bobble headed cat; the small dragon dangled limply from where he grasped it, his hands hooked under its armpits.

They were set up in front of a series of small buckets and minor constructs, most of them burned and singed, sitting on top of a stone-stacked wall. There were a few burnt apples and sticks and leaves lying around the clearing too, and as you walked up you stamped a few out.

Target practice?

You guessed you were feeling him out.

You were curious as to what he was doing, yet for some reason you were embarrassed by the idea of focusing too hard on him, and so you made an effort also to examine the scenery around. Or, you had. That had gone out the window.

Honestly, you hadn’t spent as much time taking in Hiccup after coming onto the island, too busy avoiding plot things and pretending not to notice the world around you, but you still recognized how a few of his freckles had faded since you’d known him, which was sort of upsetting.

Fortunately for him, however, he’d grown more sure in the time you’d known him, moreso learned watching from afar, which was nice. Not that he’d ever been necessarily unsure before, more misguided. But you also liked him when he’d been just lanky-footed, though you hadn’t felt much loss there, because he was still lanky-footed.

Truly, he had eyes and ears in places you didn’t think would have eyes and ears. Not on purpose. Definitely not on purpose.

But he had definitely overheard you talking when you’d been doing laundry. Really…

You wondered if you should greet him.

It was only a matter of time until he came over himself. It was a ways away but you could still see the way his eyes flickered to the corner of his lids in a way that directly implied that he’d seen something.

You wished more people were around, not too busy out enjoying the pleasant, warm sun on a day everyone would usually be working together like a well-oiled machine.

You hoped you had the guts to keep moving. 

The other Riders had been stumbling around, too, looking for him. You’d just be down to let him know. Simple.

You inhaled sharply and steeled yourself, marching- Well, more stumbling- down into the metaphorical arena, dropping your small, borrowed metal-lined basin by the entrance, meaning the side pillar of a yellow-painted hut.

The basin clattered behind you, the momentum of the drop enough to send it clattering against the wall of the hutt for just a moment until it eventually stilled. That was enough to draw Hiccup’s attention.

A smattering of purple beads, one or two with patterns and the rest without, hung along the top drawstring keeping his tunic closed.

One or two glinted in the light off his sleeves, though today they were sparse.

He hadn’t been wearing his red tunic as much, which sent a pang through your chest, light yet stabbing in a subtle way, like a growing pain or the ringing of a small gong or a series of tinkling wind chimes.

He looked good in red, though green was his color too.

“Who’s that?” You asked, nodding to the dog-sized green Terror in his arms, boots grazing over grass.

You did your best to keep your voice even and to not think about the walk you’d spent with him together, coming back from the pond, your stomach feeling as if it itself was glowing, filled with metaphorical twisting, finicky bugs and things you’d never considered on purpose.

“Oh, uh- This? This Is T-Sharp-? Shapt- Sharpshot,” Hiccup said, nodding to himself and pursing his lips so they ended in a line as he looked at the small dragon in his arms, as if he had just decided on that name at that very moment.

“Really?” Your arms were hidden behind your back, your hands linked by each other as you looked at Hiccup.

Behind him was a bucket with a few dead fish floating inside and some water. One side of it was glowing red and a small fire had been dancing around its edges, playing a sordid game of will-it-won’t it.

You scuffed your foot against the floor, which was uneven meaning you accidentally kicked a hard rock sticking out of the ground.

“Ow,” You said, hopping slightly as you lifted your stubbed, booted toe into the air and hid it behind you.

“Yeah- Right,” Hiccup nodded, “It’s- A good name?”

You’d heard the rumbles of gossip around town; they were holding some sort of contest.

You wondered if anyone would show up to watch. If you knew the village, it was very likely, if it occurred at exactly the right time. Yet with how much lounging everyone had been doing, if it took place in a few hours, that would be unlikely. 

“Yeah,” Hiccup said without prompting, answering the sort of half-question you had unconsciously proposed into the silence, “Snotlout and Fishlegs got into an argument. So now we’re having a contest on who can be the best dragon trainer- Don’t tell them I said that. It’s not a contest.”

That definitely had the potential to blow up in someone’s face.

“Wow,” You said, “Are you sure that’s smart? I mean… Aren’t you guys trying to be partners with your dragons, or something?”

You weren’t sure if being the first necessitated being the best, especially when he had people like Fishlegs and Astrid to contend with, but Hiccup did have a certain je ne sais quoi with the dragons that you thought anyone would be hard-pressed to match.

He trained everyone’s dragons, after all.

Stormfly, Barf and Belch, meatlug, Hookfang…

Separately, you were glad to see Hookfang was fine. Astrid had gotten the honey to him on time, it seemed.

He was usually wandering around the village with all the grumpy attitude he was capable of. You knew that deep down, he really liked people, though. At least kids. He wouldn’t stick around the children so hard otherwise; he was very fond at heart.

“No, I’m not,” Hiccup grumbled, slouching slightly, probably thinking about Thawfest, “I didn’t want to compete in the first place.”

You nodded.

The sort of competition Berk seemed to generate over anything at all seemed saturated with a sort of enthusiasm and fevered, violent determination that wasn’t ever safe. Hiccup was definitely fevered and enthusiastic, but you could see him being out off by this.

It was always annoying to compete with Snotlout, or so you’d heard. The Jorgensons prodded themselves on being the most avid of them all.

You wondered what Mrs. Jorgenson felt about it; whether she was for her son or against in any given circumstance was up to her mood and the time of day.

“I have been meaning to ask- Have you ever thought about going out again?” Hiccup started rubbing his neck as Sharpshot curled into a ball, his tail held sternly in his own mouth, “I mean, for a dragon, or something. I could help you train one.”

“I- Huh? I mean, I wasn’t serious,” You laughed embarrassedly. It took you a moment to recall what he was talking about, despite the fact that was half the reason you’d approached him in the first place.

You shuffled your feet slightly, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Are you sure?” Hiccup asked, somewhat dejected.

“Fish, cleaning; I still have to pay rent,” You explained, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

You were certain there were parts of dragon training that they’d definitely not shown on screen; you’d already been an eyewitness to a few. “Yeah, we would have to… Figure that out,” Hiccup looked troubled for a moment, grimacing, before shaking his head lightly, and then hedging stiffly, “I guess, well, I could help you- If you wanted to fly anywhere…?”

You would be happy to fly me around?” You asked sheepishly, for lack of anything better to say.

“I-I guess?” Hiccup shifted, “Is there anywhere you’d… Like to go?”

“Okay,” You shrugged nervously, clasping your arms in front of you, “I’m not sure. But feel free to sweep me off my feet whenever you like.”

Your upper back and neck felt hot as you began to gather what felt like a sweat, not quite sure what you were even saying.

You’d stopped focusing on the little dragon for a bit, too focused on the conversation. What brought him back into your realm of focus was the way he latched onto Hiccup’s prosthetic while you were talking, gnawing on the metal part with its gums as if it was some tasty bit of fish, or a bone.

“What? Like… Let me pick you up? Or-” He gestured to his arms, as if trying to show off how thin they were, before hesitating, then hopping slightly as he shook his prosthetic leg, booking quickly between you and his dragon, “Because-...”

He asked that last bit unsurely. His face said clearly he thought he messed up somehow. You were too embarrassed yourself to discern where.

“I think so, R-romeo,” You tried not to let a beat pass before you spoke, intending not to show how awkward you felt, hoping to instead get swept away by fast conversation. You knew for certain he wouldn’t get it before you opened your mouth and regretted it but you said it anyways, like a train with broken brakes, rushing down a track.

You glanced down, maybe in an attempt to distract yourself, where the Terror was still holding steadfast, holding bodily onto his leg in what might have been an instinctual effort to keep stable.

Hiccup stopped a moment after with a sheepish grimace, jumping slightly as he made an effort to stand still.

However, again, like something you couldn’t control, you were immediately brought back to the time he’d brought you over to the cove.

He was going to get it.

You cringed.

What had you told him? Flowers, chocolates… Nice dates?

You flushed. 

Was that what he was trying to do?

It was a really nice day out, just the same as it was way back when you and Hiccup had been sitting on that blanket overlooking the mountain pond.

Hiccup tilted slightly to the side, “Isn’t that the name fro-?”

“No-!” You laughed awkwardly, “I mean- yes? I mean…”

You wanted to groan nervously, or maybe smack yourself around the head, or slam it against something hard, but that wasn’t really possible at the moment.

You’d felt odd about him since he’d given you the glowing algae vial- you figured you could grow it in a pot, maybe- and showed you the pond. A little weirder than usual, that is, in a different way. 

 “It means, like… I- ah-” You spluttered, picking up on his confusion, resisting the urge to hunch your shoulders embarrassedly; It’s what you got for making references in the wrong language, “It’s probably better if I don’t-It's one of those things you have to know beforehand, i think?”

You lied through your teeth, smiling uncomfortably, “It’d probably be really awkward if-…”

You made a sheepish noise at the back of your throat, something in your stomach curling and fluttering with embarrassment.

You resisted the urge to grab it and strangle it. Or squish it.

You really did like him.

“Right,” Hiccup said, though the corner of his mouth had quirked up into something resembling a dazed crescent smile, “So… I’m heading to the arena for dragon training… Things. For the competition? Would you… Come with me?”

There wasn’t a patch of skin on your face that wasn’t on fire.

Or maybe it was the bucket behind Hiccup, the fire along the edge of it starting to quickly pick up in flickering intensity, made more intense by the flap of Hiccup’s Terror’s wings as it scrambled for balance, Sharpshot having apparently gotten bored of Hiccup’s prosthetic and climbed up just moments prior.

“O-okay,” You wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

It rose up for a second and you could tell the moment he registered it, his mouth turning into a line as he grimaced, “After I put that out.”

You yelped as he turned, showing off a few small embers attached to the back of his fur coat, which were also beginning to catch.

“Ow,” You mumbled, wincing as something small clattered to the ground behind you.

You held onto the lowest bar of the cage surrounding the arena, rubbing the back of your head and resting your other arm as your feet dangled into the rings as you sat up on the ledge. You were on the stone side, the one overshadowed by the large cliff face marking the beginning of the forests above.

You looked to your side, trying to find what had so promptly hit you in the head. Besides you, there were nothing but a few pebbles. You turned slightly and to your back was a slightly larger pebble, which really could have been what had made contact with the back of your head.

You looked around discontentedly for a moment longer, though you spotted no one else but the Riders below and Meatlug to your front. And indeed a ways away was Meatlug, warbling and marching determinedly along the wooden pathway over the ocean side, the side of the arena opposite yours.

Could she have done it? No, she was too sweet. And she was at the wrong angle. The pebble had very clearly come from behind.

For a moment, you thought you heard something, but it was so faint that you were sure it couldn’t have been more than your imagination.

Well, speak no evil, hear no evil.

You stared confusedly down at the Riders below.

You tried to let go of your unease, laying your head on your elbows. They seemed to be on the verge of a violent breakout; well, at least Snotlout and Astrid were.

Most of their dragons weren’t here; just Toothless and Meatlug.

Your bucket was resting a little while beside you with the water and floating fish from Hiccup’s trashed on-fire one, a just-in-case for the tiny dragons below. There was a bit less water in it now, and Hiccup’s coat was a bit more burned than it had been before, but if you needed to use it, you were sure it’d still be useful.

The edge of it dug into your side. You glanced back towards the cabin built into the wall by the arena and nudged the bucket more to the side, causing the water within to slosh dangerously.

Fishlegs had trained his dragon to fetch by reading cards, which you could say was about two tricks in and of themselves. Even if the cards had pictures.

The Twins' Terror performance was kind of impressive, though Terrors were a little bit stupid. You missed Astrid’s.

Hiccup’s was definitely second best, though you were certain that shooting fire was second nature to most dragons. The farmers had trouble with them sometimes, as the few Terrors bored enough to wander into the wheat were very trigger-happy, especially when they were startled.

“You!” Snotlout shouted from down below, as if he had been called by thought, like the devil, “Who won?”

Hiccup had joined in on the argument too, it looked like, at first glancing back between you and the others.

He, too, was now looking at you with expectant eyes.

You smiled guiltily, still trying to shake off the sense of paranoia you had felt earlier.

“...Fishlegs?” You said, though you were certain that no one would listen, not really. You were sure your determination would only add more fuel to the fire, but to say it was to take the easiest way out. At least then they would leave you out of it, after.

You cringed. Something in you withered a little bit, especially at the dejected look on Hiccup’s face, but after a moment you decided that for your own preservation it was better this way,

 “Sorry,” You called down to where Hiccup was standing still and shooting Fishlegs a dead look, the corners of his brows furrowed.

Fishlegs took only a moment to pause, shoulders slightly loosening though still stiff, bent arms falling slightly, the closest approximation to his expression being a simple ‘uh-oh, before he turned his attention back to arguing with Snotlout.

Snotlout looked mad at the idea that Fishlegs had the gall to turn his attention away from him and towards the ‘loser,’ rolling his eyes and gesturing violently at Hiccup, then waving his arm up above.

“What is going on with you two-?” Is the last thing you caught, shouted by Astrid as she made an irritated attempt to fend off the twins, before you turned your attention away.

You felt off as you looked around, realizing that the area above and by your peripheries, even looking back and forth, was empty.

“Where did Meatlug go?” You mumbled, pulling your legs up through the grate.

It was a curious thought, the same absentminded kind you spent on a lost pencil or a friend who’d wandered off while you were busy with another, which might have been what Fishlegs would have been doing with Meatlug by now any other time.

The space she occupied hadn’t been nearly close enough to you to set any alarm bells off immediately though there was a change in the air and a distinct lack of sound from her heavy dragon feet hitting wood.

You had to turn all the way around before you spotted her, her tail end disappearing up a set of steps leading around the side of the cliffs opposite the way to Berk, to the right side of the large stage behind the arena, lined by large abstract statues of vikings unreal and long past.

“Oh,” You said, pushing upwards and accidentally kicking the bucket close to you as you got up, which sounded a lot louder than you would have minded if it was silent. Though with all the arguing, it wouldn’t matter.

Quickly, you worked into a jog in an effort to catch up to her, ignoring the prickling feeling racing up and down your spine. You were being ridiculous and you’d prove it to yourself.

It wouldn’t be good if Meatlug got lost, now. Fishlegs would be sad, and with how often Mrs. Ingerman complained about her wandering off, you were sure he was going to get grounded.

Losing Meatlug would definitely make things more difficult for Hiccup, especially if he was put in charge of finding her, being responsible for all the dragons on Berk. And it would be a lot more difficult to give Meatlug quality outside playtime if he was stuck around the house doing chores.

Besides, she was a dragon. She was just fine, and so you were just going for a look.

You made it across the clearing in good time, proud of all the dips and ledges you’d been able to pass without tripping over, and yet as you came closer to the base of the steps in your stomach grew a sense of unease, the chill running across your arms only growing stronger.

You did your best to come up with a hop in your step, climbing the shallow staircase and crossing wide ledges with easy optimism. 

You came to the top quickly, passing a few piles of pebbles, where, for some odd reason, there lay what could only be labeled a knocked-over pile of pebbles. They were splayed across the dirt, fanning out from what you determined to be the most common impact point just rocks blocking the path just in front of a thick, stiff pile of rocks blocking the way ahead like a tattered wall.

You blinked confusedly, a hand slightly extended even as you pulled your elbow closer, your steps hesitant as you looked around for Meatlug, instead meeting eye-to-eye with the sharp point of what looked like the shape point of a white horn peeking out over-

“Oh,” You said.

You heard the call of your name, and quickly you opened your mouth to speak-scream, do something- but it was too late, as you felt the heavy presence of an Outcast emerge behind you, shadow looming cool and dark, stretching forwards so far its horns looked like a wickedly sharp hook on the sea end of a fishing line.

“They- they took Meatlug?!” Hiccup asked, “That’s who you’re worried about right now? The dragon?”

He tried to smother the spike of panic in his chest as he realized you’d been missing. Meatlug, too. But meatlug was a dragon. She could defend herself better than any Viking- she had built in weapons, for Thor’s sake. There wasn’t anyone who wasn’t his Dad who could wrestle her down without help, not now that she’d been taught to fight off people the correct way.

You were missing. And there were Outcasts on the loose.

 “-He could be going anywhere!” Fishlegs started, shooting Hiccup a grossed out look, which he ignored, “What-What are we going to do?!”

“They don’t really go all over the island,” Tuffnut snorted, walking casually towards the pile of rocks plugging the Outcasts’ escape tunnel before stopping and shrugging, not at all panicked at the fact that you were missing, “Like. six yak farms-”

“-A couple of sheep pens-” Ruffnut gestured with both of her hands before resting them at her hips from where she stood, on the side of Tuffnut farthest from Hiccup.

“-Mildew’s cabbage field-” Tuffnut sneered at the mention and Ruffnut rolled her eyes, clearly not pleased at all -kind of disgusted- the way people usually were when Mildew was brought up.

The twins looked at each other, shoulders stiffening in mock revulsion before gagging and saying in unison, “Gobber’s outhouse.”

They both stick their tongues out in a move that was oddly synchronous as they gagged again.

“Is there anywhere else they might be headed?” Hiccup asked quickly.

He didn’t really have the mind to stay still yet he forced his feet to keep planted against the dirt anyways, eager to run after you on Toothless. But if he didn’t know where you were going, he wouldn’t be able to get to you on time.

“Well… there is the secluded beach,” Ruffnut said, turning to face Hiccup completely. Her face was still clearly written over with disinterest, eyes looking off towards the rockpile to her side.

“Yeah,” Tuffnut agreed, gesturing widely, looking up slightly as if to convey a picture of serenity, “It’s really nice. The white sand, so soft on your little toes- It’s on the other side of the island. I can’t believe you haven’t been there.” 

Ruffnut punched him in the arm, “Stop telling people where all our good hiding spots are, yak-brain!”

“You started it!” Tuffnut snapped back doodily, bending down and bringing his arm to cover his head in order to protect it from his sister’s onslaught of punches.

Hiccup grimaced, resisting the urge to say something slightly sarcastic and definitely situationally inappropriate. Any other time and he might’ve tried to vet it out; see if it was a good date spot. Instead, his gut jumped in alarm.  

“Aw, why don’t we toss ‘er overboard?” Came the voice of Alvin the Treacherous, spoken in a low-ish, high-ish grating grumble. 

He stood tall over the other Outcasts. His stature was nearly large enough to match Stoick’s, with a personality that made him about ten times more sensitive; you hadn’t known  who he was, at first. And you’d been mouthing off while they’d carried you over. 

That had definitely set him off, and it was very likely that you had the black eye to prove it. He’d knocked you into a rock.

You never had much of an opinion of him at all -you didn’t often cross paths- yet you knew his reputation and wondered if this was what was going to get Mildew finally kicked off the island.

“Boss- She’d- make a good hostage?” Have the nervous voice of another large Outcasts, bald with a thin, twirled mustache. He looked very goofy, hunching over himself with his built frame, like a small dog with its tail between its legs. 

You’d been gagged with some dirty old cloth, carried around like a hapless animal, a ragdoll held under the arm, hands tied by the wrists, arms also pinned to your back by multiple cords of tight rope. It was almost hard to breathe.

It was better than a large, sweaty hand over your mouth. That had been unpleasant.

“But- what about Mildew? If she goes back and tells the rest-”

Mildew had separated from the flock a while back, leaving for home up on the backside of the Great Hall’s mountain.

“To ‘el with Mildew!” Alvin sneered from the other side of the boat, in a way that made you scoot back, though your face was exceptionally blank. You hoped you gave off the impression that you were unimpressed.

You did your best to tune them out as Treacherous knocked his grunt a new one.

Your knees were beginning to hurt as you’d been thrown roughly to the ship’s floor, which rocked with the movement of the water, but only barely. 

Your feet and lower legs were folded under you, flush against the wood as you listened to the arguing outlaws. They were both slightly damp, the wood of the ship’s floor having been apparently washed over by a wave while Alvin had been spying.

You were, of course, a little bit nervous and a little bit scared. Were the Outcasts taking you; back to their base? But, as it stood, you were also incredibly bored. And confused.

You had no idea how they were able to muzzle Meatlug with just rope.  Or, maybe a vague idea. You had the idea that maybe she was, perhaps, a bit overtrained.

You glanced around, hoping to God, the Gods, whichever one or ones were in charge, that there was a way out of this that didn’t require you getting stabbed in some form or another.

You didn’t know what they wanted from you. Did they think you were part of the Riders?

You weren’t. You hoped that was obvious. What if they asked anything from you? You could try the hand thing. But no, would that even work? 

Your cheeks burned. You’d rather save yourself the embarrassment. And the dragons from the Outcasts, of course.

You hoped it wouldn’t take too long for the Riders to know that you were gone. They would at least notice Meatlug, you hoped. Hiccup might recognize that you were missing. That would be great.

The ship hadn’t quite been launched away too far from Berk, the top of its mountains just disappearing over the horizon. The ‘crew,’ if it could even be called that, as just a handful of Outcasts, still pulling the flimsy rowboat that had brought you there up on board.

Most of the ship was made up of a dull, gray wood that looked to be crumbling in some parts and was littered with various Outcasts all in the same coordinated uniforms, gray chainmail and darker gray fabric. Metal shoulder guards with the same vaguely curly helmets over dark-colored hair. 

You wondered if they were all related or if they’d all dyed their hair or something. The latter option seemed to be the most plausible, you being unable to spot a head of hair that wasn’t greasy in some fashion. But then again, the whole lot of them was pretty dirty. 

It was a very nice day out, sort of chilly as Berk always was, though you were more out at sea than near Berk, yes the sun shone yellow and everything was well-lit. The only shade came from the sail, outlined against the ship’s floor, just out of reach to you.

There were only a few clouds in the sky, of course, which was mostly clear. There was a speck in the distance, not any more noticeable than a piece of dust in your eye, painful as that would be.

You took a moment to squint at it before you decided that it probably wasn’t anything, the lack of movement throwing you off slightly.

Still, you looked a moment longer, for lack of anything better to do. It took you a while to realize it was growing. So maybe it wasn’t your imagination.

The Riders had come to your rescue? Your eyes widened slightly, which hurt your eye a bit,bla and you quickly turned away, hoping no one on the ship had noticed. 

You heard the hurried stamp of Outcasts as they hurried by you, shouting as they left their positions rowing, Alvin the Treacherous shouting all the while.

You risked a glance to your side, hoping there was something you could do to get ready as Outcasts levied their crossbows over the edge of the ship.

You looked up again to where, up in the sky, you saw the Riders. They were a distance away now, just barely out of shooting range.

Fishlegs was seated on Hookfang’s body, a few feet back and away from Snotlout, and from the way things were going up there, he was definitely fretting over Meatlug.

You spotted Astrid, too, but the others…?

You squinted for the third time, wincing as you felt something wet on your face -you couldn’t tell if it was sea spray or something else- yet it was unneeded.

Your only warning was a whistling, the same one most Vikings had run from before the first movie had finished. Or, It was far from a warning, really, more like an outright aggressive attack.

A shot of what you immediately recognized as plasma slammed into one side of the boat, the front side opposite you, splitting wood and damaging the bow.

You watched as an Outcast balked and edged away from the fire side even as it rocked, the force of the blast causing it to shake and singing the floorboards. You felt its heat despite its distance. Plasma was lightning and you’d rather not get burned.

Strangely enough, though, the blast hadn’t nearly been to the strength you’d remembered back on Berk, when terror was the norm. You supposed, though, that the ship might sink if that was the case.

Still, in the chaos, you’d been knocked to the side as someone’s knee caught you in the shoulder as he scrambled away.

Just by you, Meatlug was struggling in her restraints, though her pupils were enlarged and she was girling as best as she could, tied down as she was, looking around in the sky with doe eyes.

You heard a different kind of hissing soon after as the area around you filled with the noxious smog of Zippleback gas before you’d very quickly felt yourself yanked up by the shoulders.

You felt an unbelievable vertigo as you’d been thrown into the air and caught roughly, huffing just as you heard the light grunt of a teenage guy.

You were unbelievably confused, head spinning

You heard the sound of the releasing of wood gears and taut strings as arrows went flying, a few bursting through green smog and flying a good distance before landing in the sea. You heard the shouts from within the smog and were sure there were some Outcasts who had been aiming at each other by accident.

You hoped Meatlug should be fine, though for a Grinkle who’d been taken care of as well as she had, you suspected the arrows wouldn't serve as any more than thorns.

There was a reason why the Vikings on Berk stuck to their axes and swords and just resorted to throwing bolas when it came down to shooting dragons from the sky.

The smoke- It was very smart of Hiccup- because that was definitely not the Twins- to try that.

“Cut the sails!” Hiccup demanded, facing the Riders to his right as he spoke, voice carrying over the wind. It definitely sounded a bit off, as if he wasn’t quite used to giving order’s but it was confident, which did miles in terms of covering that up.

Snotlout groaned at the sound of his voice and Tuffnut threw his head back and seemed to gargle nothing into the air, but for the most part, the Riders seemed to work together like a well-oiled machine. Like your laundry partner, if she was six smallish Vikings instead of one big one in pants. 

They hadn’t done much, but for the most part it had all transitioned smoothly.

Case in point; as the gas dissipated, you watched, eyes straining around Hiccup’s torso, as Astrid signaled for Stormfly to shoot, spines jabbing haphazardly towards the ropes controlling the sails, cutting them loose.

The Outcasts below weren’t nearly quick enough to shoot, Astrid, Stormfly, Snotlout and Hookfang covering Barf and Belch as the Twins fled. 

Up in the air, things seemed more muted, especially as you were drawn away from the chaos. 

But you heard some rustling, only just barely audible, the sound of fabric on fabric on skin and something else. So, you did your best to look up at your savior, craning your head and peering out of the corner of your eye as he pulled out something from his waistband-a knife.

You were slightly uneasy, what with the unsteady ground, as he held it before you, smelling smoke and what was definitely dragon as you squirmed around.

You closed your eyes quickly, pinching them shut until you felt the flat face on something cool against your cheek and a quick, thin snap before the fabric gagging you broke loose.

He used the knife to cut the gag away from your mouth.

You blinked your eyes open again, unsteadily, your left eye stinging. 

You were face to face with Hiccup for a moment.

He looked sort of upset in a way that made you want to grimace, your eyes meeting neutral, solid greens before he turned his attention away and leaned further forwards, head whipping back towards the Riders.

“Stay out of shooting range!” Hiccup called again.

Over the sound of rabble down below, you made out the sound of Astrid and Snotlout responding, though this time, you couldn’t quite hear what they had said.

“Whatever,” Tuffnut rolled his eyes, as you scooted up just enough to see the Twins, shouting as he laid back on his dragon’s neck, distracted as Ruffnut took the liberty to punch him. Hard.

“You’ll be fine on your own?” Hiccup shouted, looking towards Astrid, who was hovering with Stormfly just a few meters below, “I’m going to get my Dad!”

“Yeah,” She looked up at him with focused eyes as nodded, “We got it.”

You wondered what the Chief was going to do with this. He couldn’t let them go. You hoped they would all be fine- the rest of the Berkians.

It was sort of surprising.

You weren’t sure why, but you’d seen the two Haddocks around together a lot less. You’d heard it from someone who heard it from Gobber that Hiccup had been avoiding the big man, and the Chief had been letting him.

It would be pretty easy to put them into custody, you guessed. The Outcasts were sitting ducks; Alvin, who if you remembered correctly from village talk, was the leader of all of them. 

It was strange that he’d arrived without extra detail though he seemed large enough for it not to matter, if largeness was any indicator of strength the way it was where the Chief was concerned.

You leaned closer to Hiccup as Toothless made a sharp turn, Hiccup’s leg under your back jerking as it switched gears.

The wind ripped past your face as Toothless rocketed through the sky.

Your escape from Dagur had been a lot more perilous. However, the way the wind blew against Hiccup, brushing his hair completely out of his face, exposing parts of a pale, blotchy forehead. It was kind of flattering, the way he leaned forwards slightly in an unconscious effort to stay streamlined.

It made him look daring in a Hiccup sort of way.

You looked up at him from where you were half reclined, both legs hanging off one side of the saddle, head hanging off the other. You were positioned in front of Hiccup on Toothless, where his tiny horn-like fins poked you in the stomach like flexible, twitchy mittens.

It was kind of awkward.

He was your knight in shining armor, sort of. More like a lanky-furred Viking guy with a metal shield, which you seemed to like a bit more.

A lanky-furred Viking guy who’d taken acid to the back for you and who’d been struck by lightning and who liked the things you gave him a lot and who you liked to see with the things you’d given him very, very much.

You had to ask yourself where the Terrors were, without their minders. This was probably not how that was supposed to go.

You stood awkwardly on the white sands of the secluded beach, the same place Hiccup had dropped you off before he’d bolted back to the village for his Dad, as Stoick on Thornado dropped Alvin roughly onto the dirt.

The Chief landed on him as he tried to push away and make a break for it. Make a break for it or attempt a take-down of someone, most probably you, though that seemed even less and less likely as Hiccup and therefore Toothless stood stationed in front of you.

Toothless was definitely bored, much more interested in the pushing and pulling waves than the Outcasts being stripped of their helmets, gear and weapons and escorted to captivity in restraints by a league of tough, large, able-bodied Berkians.

Hiccup was standing casually by you, if by ‘by’ you meant slightly in front of, though you could tell he was still tense, shoulders a bit too stiff and arms crossed in a way that was atypical for him as he conversed with the other Riders. His eyes, though, stayed cautiously on his Dad and Alvin.

And Snotlout, as he goaded on the grunt outcasts, who glared at him. One tried to lunge but was quickly punched down by Spitelout, who had then turned his attention to his son, ready to give him an earful.

“-If you plug a hole, you can pick water up with it,” Tuffnut nodded, “I did that once with a mug that had a hole in the bottom. It was really thin, though. Made it out of a rusty pipe or something, I dunno.”

“Heat builds pressure,” Ruffnut nodded, joining in. You were pretty sure what they had held merit; you were pretty sure the pipe thing did. 

You wished you had the internet, still.

You sometimes thought that they were secret geniuses, or very good at stumbling on to real science. 

“What?” Hiccup said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

The twins were positioned a lot closer to you than the others, Astrid and Fishlegs being more focused on the Outcasts’, Fishlegs more so because he was worried about Meatlug, who’d had yet to be brought to shore by the adult Vikings. He was hunched over as per usual, quite twitchy and asking about her frequently in a way that made everyone close to him annoyed. Astrid was standing more firmly, arms crossed as she stoickly surveyed the scene.

Ruffnut snickered, “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“What?” Hiccup looked to you for help.

You smiled with a bit of mischief.

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” You repeated, bumping into his arm with your own as he shot you a slightly betrayed look.

You shuffled carefully, mindful not to kick up too much sand as your boots were still wet and cleaning sand out of your soles and toes was something you really weren’t looking forward to doing later.

“That- I’ve never heard of that. Ever. Not working,” Hiccup looked at you with concern, shoulders loosening.

You blinked your eye, which was now definitely at least slightly swollen.

You’d touched it a moment earlier to find something lightly stinging just below your eye. When your fingers had come off, they were slightly shiny with what you thought was blood, though it didn’t really seem to be bleeding freely, so it was probably fine enough for you to handle on your own.

Nobody had said anything yet, anyhow, so you didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

“It might,” You shrugged, smiling emptily, though you were sure you could have said something of merit having learned more in elementary than he’d probably ever get to know his entire life.

“Yeah,” Tuffnut said, pleasedly. You were fifty percent certain if they did believe the Earth was round, or if other people believed they did, it was because they’d come up with something ridiculous to say to bug everyone else.

“... This isn’t going to become another ‘Earth is round’ thing, is it?” Hiccup asked exhaustedly.

Ruffnut’s head perked up at the statement, head whipping to you before she began to speak in a raspy, very approving voice, “Round-earther.”

Tuffnut started jumping in place like he was about to start sprinting, shaking his arms out.

You fist bumped Tuffnut as “Yeah,”-ed in a way that told you it was less about the word and more about his approval, bobbing his head over hunched shoulders, satisfied at your obvious agreement.

“If you don’t,” You but your lip, searching for the right word, “Not keep trying to woo me with all your boundless scientific knowledge, it might.”

Hiccup looked scandalized.

“Science is more Fishlegs’ thing,” He grumbled, shrugging,shaking his head and looking away to nod towards the large boy, looking miserable in a sort of mild way,

You bit your lip, feeling a little bit bad. Really, you were incredibly grateful that he was able to get to you so fast. 

“I know. You’re really smart, actually, I mean-” You nodded, speaking emphatically, before nudging him with your elbow, in a gentle effort to communicate that you weren’t serious, “-You’re a genius, but that’s half the point-not that bit, I mean the one before it- Really, privately, I don’t think Fishlegs believes the Earth is round, either.”

Hiccup shot you a quick, short smile at the compliment, yet still nudged you lightly back.

You smiled slightly too, something you were sure was along the lines of like a small crescent, feeling sort of warm in the chest.

In the background, both Tuffnut and Ruffnut boo-ed quietly. Fishlegs, a few feet away, because to speak with more intense anxiety about Meatlug, despite everyone else’ reassurances that she was okay. 

You knew Fishlegs and Meatlug already stuck questionably close, beyond the levels of ‘best friend’ that Hiccup and Toothless had, bordering on some anxious attachment. This was not going to help that.

“You were being sarcastic?” Hiccup asked after a moment.

You shifted, sticking your tongue out slightly, both of your brows quirking up.

Hiccup’s bottom lids pulled upwards as he smiled, the joy you imagined in his eyes and the light reflecting off them making it look like a fire had been lit in his pupils.

“Gross,” Tuffnut mumbled to his sister in your periphery, nudging her in the arm and making a face, which maybe just made you smile harder.

It -the beach- would be a good place to pull in water. And it was connected to the tunnels. If only he could figure out a way to funnel water upwards; his chute system worked off gravity and dragons bringing water up to the top of it to begin running.

For a project as large-scale as a pipe system, he’d need something more sophisticated.

He wasn’t sure what the twins suggested would work. But…

“It’s okay,” You said, bumping his shoulder with your own, “Have you been working on anything new? In the forge, I mean. To do with pipes.”

Hiccup turned to look at you.

“Ah, yeah…” He hadn’t realized he’d said that out loud.

You and Hiccup were walking the long way back to the village, through the forest walking past large, straight-backed pine trees, in the part of Berk where the fauna grew tallest and things were just a bit more wild.

Pine fronds rustled and there was barely a walkable path, the way you were headed. Hiccup guessed that there weren’t many people going to the secluded beach.

He’d offered to walk you, privately because he didn’t want to fly back with the rest of the others, who would be undoubtedly making fun of him.

And he wanted to make sure you were okay.

“What are you planning?” You hedged, looking at him from the corner of your eye, hands behind your back. You’d been putting them a lot there recently. He wondered if there was a reason for that.

The two of you were very close, squeezing past and over fallen logs and dodging around mossy trunks and large plate-looking mushrooms.

“For the record, I really liked your Terror trick.” 

Hiccup started at that as he kicked aside a large stick and stepped over a rock, protruding out of the damp forest floor.

He supposed he should be pretty pleased with that answer, and a part of him was, preening and sitting a bit straighter as you took a few steps forwards, hopping over a short gnarled root and brushing aside a particularly dark set of long ferns, but. Another part of him was a little bit doubtful.

The air was very fresh despite the fact that the fauna was incredibly packed down by the underbrush.

“You said you thought Fishlegs’ was the best,” Hiccup grumbled as you squinted up at him.

The look you gave him filled him with a small measure of embarrassment, cheeks burning slightly. So he was a little itty-bit jealous.

“I meant what I said,” You paused, waiting for him to catch up, stopping in front of a large log, one that definitely was decaying and probably had a lot of bugs in it. He wondered if Terrors like bugs.

Hiccup tried to see around it, long and definitely wide. It seemed to go through a large mass of unkempt ferns and boulders. He couldn’t tell where it began or ended. 

…Maybe he should have brought Toothless instead of letting him run ahead. But if you got lost, to be fair, you weren’t the worst person to be lost with. 

Hiccup wasn’t affronted by the idea, “Looks like we’re going to have to go up.”

“Okay,” You nodded, leaving the looking to Hiccup, kicking down the beginnings of a small bush as you grabbed for the side of the log.

You yelped as part of the bark crumbled, breaking off your hands, and grimaced blankly down at it, held in your palm as you stood again in front of the log.

Hiccup looked at it with concern, then decided to feel for his own grip, wincing when he made contact with soft bark, half rotted and darkly colored, pulling himself up the side and trying to feel for a hold with his prosthetic.

His other hand made contact with something soft and damp for a moment, which he winced at yet didn’t care much about as he grabbed upwards, “Here’s good.”

“Thanks,” You said simply as you lined up behind him.

He felt around at the top of the log before grabbing along what felt like a ridge, pulling himself up with a grunt and threw himself over, straddling the top. 

A glowing bug skittered past against the wood, traveling towards a patch of fungus growing out of the dead log; a long thing with many legs looking a light transparent blue.

Hiccup frowned. It had probably come over from the pond. Hopefully didn’t just cause any kind of environmental disaster; he wasn’t being conservative at all with what he put in there.  Fishlegs would probably handle it. He was more into that kind of thing than Hiccup. For you, it was worth it.

He twisted in half to look back at you, scooting back on the log slightly in order to make room “So…”

Your brows were brows lifted upwards as you spoke, “...What’s been going on with you and your Dad?”

Hiccup perked up, grimacing, eyes turning from you to back down the path the two of you had walked to get here. 

It was a sudden question, but with the lull in conversation, as it usually went in most circumstances, there was bound to be something, though the subject of that something was usually impossible to put a name to. Unless it was Hiccup speaking, in which case it was probably going to get him in trouble.

But had you really picked up on that? Hiccup and his Dad, that was. Hiccup had to wonder if he was really that easy to read. If his Dad was, for anyone who wasn’t him. The answer to that question was a bit more obscure to him.

“Sorry,” You said, sheepishly.

Hiccup nodded.

“It’s fine,” He wondered how much you knew about them; how much you’d been witness to. The idea was embarrassing to him for reasons he hadn’t thought about. It was a bit different with everyone else, given most of the people here already knew his business. 

He guessed you had been here long enough to be most people, but you were not.

How much did you know about him? Did you know how much he liked you?

Hiccup shrugged, sort of moodily, glaring down at the forest floor way down off to the side by your feet.

And then he held out his hand

He was sort of nervous when he did, but as if late it seemed that an exchange of hands was something the two of you did more easily. But whatever brought the conversation away from his parent issues.

But then you laughed, and took it. It was sort of nervous and a little bit shy but it was spur-of-the-moment and the kind that just came out of nowhere, short and uncontrollable. And it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

It was… Almost enough to make him forget about his Dad.

Really, he didn’t know why he was still upset. He had told his dad it was fine -that he’d been forgiven since he’d been bugging you- but he still didn’t want to see him right now. So he took the liberty to remove himself from the situation. It’d probably be fine later. Their relationship was still slightly rocky.

He had no idea what his Dad was trying to do, offering Hiccup help. You didn’t seem to be the rough-and-tumble type. Maybe you were. Who knew.

His Dad didn’t get his friendship  with Toothless, not even in half. Not until he’d gotten Thornado and even then, they were more different. More like battle buddies than friends, which was a completely different thing; more about the utility than anything else. As least he’d stopped trying to kick the dragons off the island, 

He half pulled you up the log, watching your arms tense and loosen as you climbed.

Hiccup swallowed, then frowned slightly.

You settled on the log across from him with a light thump and a wince, looking back behind you and tugging your skirts loose after the majority of the trim had gotten stuck under one of your legs.

You looked a bit different in this light, face more covered in shadow, details by the pond harder to pick out now that you were in the relative darkness of the forest instead of by the pond, but he laughed nervously all the same, bringing one hand up to rub the back of his neck.

There was some dark mottling around your eye. It sort of implied a swell but the bruising wasn’t nearly enough to throw off the symmetry of your face or seal your eye shut in the way eyes did when they were busted. Still, it was noticeable and it looked like it hurt.

There was a very light cut below your bottom lid, not nearly enough to form a canyon but enough to cut down to blood, already scabbing. He was sure it would be nothing more than a papercut by tomorrow. 

But still, he kind of wished he’d gotten there in time to stop it.

He looked down, startling at your thumb running over the back of his hand, vaguely and definitely unconsciously tracing over the lightning scar like a jagged vine trailing up his wrist.

It has just been a moment, but he’d-He hadn’t realized the two of you had still been holding hands. 

You nearly pulled yours away, but Hiccup was just in time to stop that, the gentle wrapping of his own fingers pulling to yours just barely enough to be felt.

He kept his eyes trained away, as if to ignore what he’d just done, feeling slightly as if he’d just gotten away with something small and taboo, like he was a child again stealing a piece of bread off his Father’s plate.

Fortunately, you seemed happy as well to ignore the Gronkle in the metaphorical room. Maybe even… Flustered?

“How are the, ah,” You asked, both hands on his wrist now, “Acid burns? Are you fine, now?”

He wasn’t sure how you’d gone from the Lightning scars to the acid burns, but he did guess that was the last time he’d… He’d rescued you. Kind of.

Hiccup’s blush must have spanned from one ear to the next with how they tingled with that very familiar hot-yet-not, half-stinging-in-a-painless-way sensation.

After all the abrasions and blisters had gone, it was fine. Of course, now, it was mostly healed, though it gave him trouble sometimes.

The skin there was stuffer and newer than he’d like it, incredibly soft and rough and sensitive and insensitive in all the wrong ways. But it made for a cool scar. And that was all that mattered.

What he couldn’t make up for in stature, he definitely had covered in scar tissue.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore- not when he moved, or tried to sleep… He used the ointment the two of you had gotten from Gothi.

He wished he’d gotten to the Outcast ship sooner. Really, he should be the one asking if you were fine. There was no point dancing around it.

They -He and the others- didn't have time to go back for the Terrors- they’d be causing trouble back at the arena

“You’re…” Hiccup turned his attention down to the dirt and mulch, then back up at you. His free hand twitched as if suggesting he use it to take a look at the part of your eye that must have still been sore, instead moving to trace the inside of your wrist. The one that belonged to the hand still holding his, which had relaxed enough that his knuckles brushed against the old log bark.

 “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You stuck your tongue out slightly and smiled in a way that used your cheeks, “...is something wrong?”

Hiccup startled, “What? No- I mean,” he was not particularly paying attention as he began to slide slightly on the log, precarious balance thrown off kilter. He would adjust, in just a second, though, after he- “I- Your eye-”

Unfortunately, before he could finish, he felt something still catch against the gray fabric of his trousers -probably bark- and even as he made increased efforts to stop it, letting go of your hand and throwing his arms out, accidentally smacking you in the shoulder, he still slipped and fell off the other end of the log, landing shoulder first on hard forest floor.

He really had to stop doing that.