#and lets me jump 20 feet in the air

[empanadazul]

But let's use those tentacles for when you don't want to get up from the sofa but are craving chips

Not all venom fans are monster fuckers 😞 some of us are just aroace disasters who like the idea of a platonic soulmate who likes to murder annoying people for you, is that so bad?

[redflagshipwriter]

batmom Cass progress post

(masterpost)

Far Too Young: Cassandra Wayne, Teen Mother Debutante?

Danny cringed away from the headline on the newspaper sitting on the coffee table. “I am so sorry,” he said miserably. Someone must have reported on that first day in the city. Why'd they sit on the story for so long? That was the only time he'd been in public with Cass. So far, he'd only left Wayne Manor with Damian and Alfred to volunteer at the animal shelter.

Cass blinked up at him, from her perch on the back of the sofa. “Don't be,” she said. “It's fine. They will always talk.” Her face twitched into condescension. “It means nothing.” 

He wrung his hands because it really did look like something. She hadn't given him the article and he wasn't quite bold enough to request to read it. But it couldn't be nice. Even the headline was judgmental. 

“It would probably be for the best if we made a statement.” Grandfather Bat said out of nowhere.

Danny startled and jumped straight up. The chair creaked unhappily when he landed back on it.

“Brucedad,” Cass complained.

He huffed and held his hands up. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn't mean to startle anyone.”

Danny hunched a little more into his hoodie. Well. Tucker’s hoodie. It was way too big for Danny, especially after the weight he'd lost. But it was weirdly comforting. He fiddled with the sleeves.

“Cass, could we talk about it in my office?” Bruce said. His tone was calm and even. Danny sort of suspected it was for his benefit. “Danny, Damian is looking for you.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny let his heels drop off the chair, onto the carpet. “Yeah, okay. Where's he at?” 

Danny found his 13 year old uncle out in the barn with his cow. Danny hopped the wooden gate to go inside and sneezed at the dust in the air from dried hay. 

“Danny,” Damian acknowledged. He was brushing Batcow. “I hope that you are well this morning.” 

Danny made that weird white person smile-grimace where only his lips moved. “Good morning,” he said, instead of either lying or being a bummer. “Are we going to the shelter today?” 

Damian didn't pause. “Unfortunately, I have been told that it will not fit in Pennyworth’s schedule today,” he said primly. He dragged another long, precise stroke down Batcow’s fur, exactly lining up with his last stroke. Danny eyed his sure, confident motions. “Instead, I wondered if you would join me in a project in the barn. Have you any experience with wood working?”

“Nope.” Danny drifted a little closer. “Do you?”

“No.” Damian dropped to a crouch to take care of Batcow's hooves. “It is of no importance. We can overcome.” 

“Hell yeah, Uncle D,” Danny agreed genially. Why not? He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are we making?”

“Storage shelving, for materials intended for art therapy.” Damian made one final brisk movement and rose in a smooth motion. He hung up the tools and brushed his hands off. Danny followed Damian as he started to leave.

“Art therapy?” Danny echoed curiously. “That's neat. For ….you?” He ventured. 

‘It’s for me,’ Danny thought wryly. ‘This 13 year old takes his responsibility as my Uncle seriously. He'll say it's for him, but want me there, and-’

“Of course not,” Damian scoffed. “It is for Jerry and Batcow. They have unresolved traumas.” He pulled the door shut behind them. “We will require lumber from the storage unit, as well as an assortment of power tools. I am disallowed from using them without the presence of someone who is taller than 5 feet, or older than 20.”

“That is awfully specific.” Danny eyed Damian suspiciously. “I'm not going to get in any trouble for this, right?” He followed even as Damian picked up the pace a little as they crossed the huge green lawn towards a shed. 

“Tt.” Damian tapped in a code at lightning speed and then hefted open the door. “No. You will be fine.” He said flatly. He stalked into the dark space. Danny followed and sneezed at the dusty interior. “Can you lift 50 pounds?” 

Danny sniggered. “Yeah, easily,” he said with confidence.

Damian hummed in the back of his throat. “Good. You shall be the beast of burden.” 

That was such a wild thing to say that Danny blinked twice while processing it. Beast of burden?!? Who said that?

“... I'm not sure I like that,” Danny teased. “Have you heard that I'm the baby?” He gestured at himself. Weedy as he was, he was still noticeably larger than Damian. 

“You should be proud,” Damian said in a dry tone. “to be such an accomplished baby. Here.” He pointed at a bundle of lumber. “I require this.” 

Danny was a burdened beast back and forth between the shed and the barn for three trips to assemble everything that Damian thought they would need. The preteen oversaw it all with perfect aplomb, dark eyes glittering as his plan started to come together. 

There was a learning curve. 

“That's why they say to measure twice and cut once, huh,” Danny observed. He pursed his lips at the board that was only about half an inch too short for their purpose. They couldn't like, glue or nail on a slight extension, could they?

“We shall throw this in the woods so that no one discovers our failure.” Damian lifted one side of the poorly cut plank and dragged it to the back of the barn into an unused stall. It dragged a line through the loose straw cushioning the floor. 

“He's so little,’ Danny thought hysterically. He could not laugh at Damian. He absolutely could not. The little guy took himself so seriously. Danny was actually shaking with the effort not to laugh or coo.

Damian seemed to have no idea. “For the moment I will store it out of sight here.” He let the plank fall to the ground from an inch or so and then shut the stall door. Danny watched with his head cocked to the side and a hand pressed over his lips to hide his grin. 

“We have two more excess planks.” Damian went back to business. 

[mj0702]

I hope you like it 😅😅

“Bebita… hem de parlar” Ona said one afternoon you being hunched over the kitchen island lose papers scattered around you

“no puc de moment… cal acabar-ho” you mumbled trying to find a way through the Swedish back line

“Take a walk with me” the spaniard said and you heard it wasn’t a question – it was a fact

“Ona leave her… you can take Narla” Lucy said laying spread our on the couch the small dog at her feet

“We can take Narla with us, sí… But I think Bebita would benefit from a break… she’s working on that sheet for hours now” Ona said strictly and even your sister didn’t dare to talk back

“She can hear you…” you mumbled “Stupid Eriksson and stupid Björn making me headache”

“Bebita… up… walkies” Ona said overly sweet and Narla lifted her head before jumping off the couch coming running over happily “Sí Narla… you too”

“But I have to…” you started as you felt Ona pull you off the high bar chair

“…. We go walkies now… go get your shoes… and sunscreen” the spaniard basically sneered and you realized you better get going

So you scattered over the floor to your room to get a different shirt and your flip flops – the good one Mapí gifted you

“BEBITA!” you heard Ona yell and you physically flinched never been on the receiving end of Onas yelling so you quickly made your way down the hallway where the spaniard already waited for you

“You put sunscreen on?” the blonde asked lifting an eyebrow

“Don’t need…” you started and before you know it Ona already was covering your face and neck in cream like you were three years old

“Onaaaaa…” you whined trying to get away from her hands

“Atura-ho” the spaniard mumbled as she once again smearing more sunscreen on your face “I won’t let you get sunburned”

“I’m not three” you continue to whine

“Could’ve fooled me” Ona mumbled “Arm”

“come oooon” you stomped your foot a little which made Narla bark happily thinking you’re going to kick her favorite toy for her

“Narla” the spaniard hushed the westie gently and the high pitched barking stopped immediately “You sure behave like a three year old”

20 minutes later you got out of the car after Ona drove through the Barcelona traffic up to the Olympic Stadium from Barcelona. You loved it up here since Lucy took you to the place first time you visited. It was quite simply build but you felt the majestic Olympic spirit once you entered the building. It was as if the whole air change by the importance of the place running through your body as you walked through the little corridor that connected the outside world with the inside.

You were already a few steps away from the car when you heard Ona whistle

“This way Bebita” the spaniard said pointing the other way towards the Jardí Botànic de Barcelona – the botanical garden.

“Ugh… green stuff” you rolled your eyes but trotted after the blonde

“Go on Narls” Ona smiled as she clipped the leash off the collar and let the westie run lose

“How are you Bebita?” the spaniard looked at you while you kept your eyes trained forward

“Muy Bien… por qué?” you said a little confused

“You know there’s a thing that just doesn’t leave me alone…” Ona started and it was right this second you knew this wasn’t going to be a nice chat

“I like you… please don’t ruin it by talking about your sex life with me sister” you whined hoping you could distract her from whatever topic she was about to disclose

“Nice try… no…” the spaniard chuckled but got serious immediately again “… you remember the afternoon we talked about my tattoo? How it was spelled wrong?”

“Must have slipped me mind” you mumbled and Ona knew you knew exactly what she was talking about

“Yeah well… you asked me if I tried to commit too… at first I didn’t realize what you were asking… I didn’t understood it properly so I ask a friend what it means to “commit”… I had a suspicion that night when I laid in bed but I didn’t knew if I was right” Ona said seriously “… so I asked a friend and she confirmed my suspicion”

“Hm… no idea what you’re talking about” you hummed stopping at a big red blossom

“Then let me help you out with your own language… “to commit” can stand for “committing suicide”… as well as other things but since we were talking about that topic that afternoon I think I was right about that suspicion” the spaniard said seriously trying to read you

“Hmm…” you hummed again looking at the blossom intensely

“Talk to me Bebita” the spaniard said softly keeping a small distance between the two of you

“I rather not…” you mumbled enchanted by the flower

“Bebita…” Ona sighed sadly “… don’t you trust me? I swear I won’t tell a soul”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you… you are family at this point” you said as you decided to walk on

“Then talk to me” the spaniard begged

“It would bring you into a situation that would be unfair to you…” you stated seriously “… it would mean you knew something about me me sister has no idea of… and if it EVER comes out she would be so SO hurt… so.. I don’t have a clue what you are talking about”

“You did try and kill yourself didn’t you?” Ona asked walking a step behind you

“I’m still here… so no” you chuckled humorless

“Bebita… please” the spaniard grabbed your wrist stopping you successfully

“I can’t talk about it with you Ona…” you said quietly

“But you CAN…. I won’t tell Lucy” Ona said – no begging you

“I CAN’T… if Lucy ever finds out she’ll freak… if she THEN finds out you KNEW about it… it would destroy her Ona…” you felt the tears in your eyes “… IF she ever finds out she’ll need you… you need to catch her from falling”

“Mi pequeña Bebita” the spaniard whispered pulling you against her and the second your bodies connect you cling to her like she was the life jacket keeping you from drowning sobbing into her shirt “it’s going to be okay… I promise”

Ona held you until your tears substituted and your breathing became slower again

“I won’t push you…” the blonde whispered against your hair “… but are you save now or do I need to keep an extra eye on you?”

“No I’m good now… I wasn’t for a long time… but being here helped… a lot” you said and Ona saw it was genuine

“Good…” the spaniard pressed a soft kiss to your temple “… because I won’t hesitate to throw a knife at you”

“You don’t even hit a yard door from five meters away with a bowling ball…” you chuckled through your tears “… but I’d love to see you try”

“Disculpe??” Ona faked being outraged

“I saw you on the state fair… you had five balls and didn’t hit one tin Ona… FIVE balls!!” you rolled your eyes relieved that the spaniard didn’t squeeze an answer out of you

“This game was… regged” the spaniard grumbled

“Rigged…” you corrected “… and it wasn’t… you took out the guy who worked there… it looked painful when that ball hit his nose”

“It wasn’t my fault he had no reflexes” the spaniard defended herself

“He was leaning to the OUTSIDE of the booth… you basically threw backwards” you laughed and to Ona that sound was made by heaven

“He still could’ve paid attention and blocked it” Ona huffed before whistling again “Come on Narla… I think someone would like cuttlefish for dinner”

“Don’t you dare poison the dog… she did nothing to you” you exclaimed

“I wasn’t talking about her…” Ona laughed when she turned around letting you rooted to the ground letting you process the information

“No Ona please….” You sprinted after her

“You said you love me” you whined as you jumped on her back making the spaniard burst out laughing as she carried you while Narla jumped up and around you two barking happily

[octuscle]

Gringo Life

Carlos was breathing heavily. Today, his destiny might be decided. The savings of many years of hard work had been spent on Carlos's trip to the United States today. He was to meet the smuggler in a village not far from the border crossing. Carlos was to come without luggage, without papers. Only with the clothes on his back. Of course, that sounded strange, but Carlos did as he was told. He wore his best clothes. He had gotten himself a new hat. He looked hot. He was an alpha paisa! He would make a career for himself in the land of the gringos.

At the agreed meeting point, a man was standing next to a surprisingly clean new pickup. He looked like something out of a bad college jock comedy. Stars and Stripes tank top over a muscular, tanned torso. The buzz cut hidden under an upturned cap, powerful legs in tight jeans that also accentuated an impressive bulge at the crotch. Feet in dusty biker boots. He spat a bit of chewing tobacco on the street. “Carlos?” he asked. Carlos nodded with a dry mouth. “Good, then let's go.” With the little English he knew, Carlos asked where he should hide in this car. Probably not in the open loading area. The guy laughed and said that Carlos had booked a first-class ticket. You don't hide with this ticket. With this ticket, you drive the car into a better life yourself. He threw the car keys to Carlos and went to the passenger door. “Are you serious?” Carlos asked. He was already much more fluent than a few minutes ago. “You drive, I choose the music. By the way, I'm Zack!” Carlos climbed into the car. He had never sat in such a big and new and expensive car, let alone driven it. “You know how to drive an automatic, bro?” Zack asked. Carlos shook his head. “You'll learn!”

It was hot. Zack had turned off the air conditioning and rolled up the windows. Carlos had no idea which buttons to press to change that. He didn't want to ask Zack. Zack had turned up the music loud and was enthusiastically singing along to songs Carlos didn't know. He was sweating. He ran his hand over his neck. His mullet was soaked in sweat! “Coke?” Zack asked, opening what was obviously a cooled compartment in the center armrest. ‘Holy cow, dude! You're like, a total lifesaver! Thank you, fam!’ Carlos replied. With a heavy Spanish accent. But in fluent English!

“12 kilometers to the border” was written on a sign. Damn metric system, Carlos thought to himself. How many miles was that now? 10? Or more like 20? He drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Young's ‘Young Love & Saturday Nights.’ The muscles in his forearms twitched, making his tattoos dance. Zack opened the windows. The wind blew up Carlos' cut-off tank top. It felt damn good on his sweaty skin. At the end of the road, the border station appeared. Carlos took a deep breath. He slowed down. He rolled up to the Mexican border guard's hut. Zack handed Carlos two passports, which Carlos passed on. The officer only glanced through the window. He had to stand on tiptoe to see not only Carlos but also Zack in the big car. He stamped both passports and wished them a safe journey. Carlos breathed a sigh of relief. Although he knew that leaving Mexico was the easy part. Now came the entry into the USA. The officer could be a brother of Zack. Muscular, short-cropped hair, a tight, perfectly fitting uniform. He bared two rows of immaculate Hollywood-white teeth. “Welcome back to the USA!” he said as Carlos handed him the two passports. “What was the reason for your stay in Mexico?” “We were there to get wasted and hook up, y'all! Get ready for some wild times!” said Zack. The officer said that was indeed the best thing about Latinos. “Which one of you is Charles?” Silence… Zack nudged Carlos in the side. Carlos jumped and said, “My friends call me Chuck, Officer!” Zack grinned. The border guard looked at Carlos and then at the passport. Then he asked Carlos to take off his hat. Shit, the hat, Carlos thought. Of course, with it he looked like a wetback. He felt for the hat. There was no hat. He took off his trucker cap. His long blond hair fell into his face. He pushed it back. The border guard grinned and said that with short hair, Chuck would look less like a girl. He stamped the two passports and handed them back to Chuck in the car.

“So, what did I tell you?” said Zack. “Easier than stealing candy from a baby.” Chuck replied that he had obviously lost the bet. He wouldn't have believed in his life that the guy wasn't checking the back of the pickup. There were six kegs of the finest smuggled tequila rocking on the truck bed. “Dude,” Zack said. “Didn't you see the way the officer was staring at you? If you had told him you had the tequila on the truck bed, he would have let us through. The main thing is that you smile at him once.” Chuck kneaded the bulge in his torn jeans. Hell yes, the officer had been hot. But the load of his balls was reserved for Zack today. He had lost a bet, so Zack was allowed to suck him off in the repair shop. Chuck could only hope that the border guard was back on duty on the next trip to Mexico.

Chuck and Zack had been best bros since they first got kicked out of college together for drug smuggling. Behind the facade of the auto repair shop, they smuggled various things across the border. In both directions. It was lucrative. And each time they bet on whether they'd get caught or not. The loser had to empty his balls into one of the other's holes. They were rarely caught. For some reason, Chuck spoke fluent gutter Spanish like a construction worker. He didn't know when or where he'd learned it himself. That usually helped with problems at the border. And if that wasn't enough, a blowjob had been enough to get him out. Life was great.

Pics by @ki-kink

[neochan]

straight out a romance novel (m) – teaser

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ➪ bookshop keeper!jaemin x author!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 & 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 ➪ meet cute (read:awkward), sunshine x sunshine, strangers to something, love triangle, jealousy, best friends to rivals, found family in a way, smut, fluff, minor angst, including barista!jeno, ice cream shop worker!mark, barista!haechan, day care worker!renjun.

𝐖𝐂 ➪ teaser is 1.1k & fic is 20-25k est.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ➪ i've had this idea in the drafts since 2021 when i saw this note on a bookshop door. ever since then, i've been dreaming about telling this story. today i put fingers to keyboard and wrote a little something.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ➪ comment or send an ask!

A brightly-colored yellow paper clings to the door, its message hastily scrawled in ink: "we're open!" beckoning with a number underneath. You reach for the handle, but it refuses to budge, the lock catching you off guard. If they truly were open, why wasn't the door unlocked? You ponder for a moment whether to dial the number, then with a resigned sigh, you retrieve your phone and punch in the digits.

After a brief moment, the phone rings just once before a cheery voice fills your ear.

"Hello, Jaemin speaking."

You hesitated for a moment before responding, your heart fluttering for what seemed like no reason at all.

"Hey. I saw the note on the door. Mind letting me in?" Your voice wavered slightly, "The door is locked."

There's a shuffling on the other end of the line, and then a long slew of slightly muffled curse words.

You can't help but stifle a chuckle at the colorful language. It definitely wasn't what you were expecting from the boy who answered the phone so joyfully.

Moments later, you hear the click of the lock, and the door creaks open. The boy – Jaemin – stands there, phone pressed to his ear, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

"Hello," he says, his voice slightly louder than expected, the proximity causes a feedback loop that makes your ears sting.

You wince at the sudden noise, but the discomfort is overshadowed by the way he jumps nearly ten feet in the air. He fumbles to hang up the call, hands trembling.

"Sorry about that," Jaemin says, his cheeks flushing pink. "I forgot I was still on the phone."

Jaemin stands in the doorway, caught in a moment of stunned admiration as he gazes at you. His eyes trace the gentle curve of your lips, the way sunlight dances in your hair, and the subtle grace in your movements. He sways slightly, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest.

For a moment, the world seems to slow down as you both stand there looking at each other. It's only when you shift your weight that he realizes he's been staring, hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

Just as the silence begins to stretch uncomfortably, you clear your throat, "Um, can I come in?" you ask, voice soft yet filled with a hint of amusement.

The sound of your voice snaps Jaemin out of his reverie, and he blinks, his cheeks reddening even further at his own awkwardness.

"Oh! Yes, of course!" Jaemin steps back hastily, gesturing for you to enter the cozy bookshop.

You offer him a gracious smile as you pass by, feeling a flutter of excitement at the unexpected boyish charm that radiated off him. As you step inside, the scent of old books and ink envelops you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. This was familiar. This was home.

Jaemin shuts the door and follows you inside, his heart still pounding with the exhilaration of your presence. He can't help but steal glances at you as you explore the shelves, his cheeks flushing anew with each fleeting moment of eye contact.

Realizations seem to come slow to him today, because as you pick up a tattered book, avoiding his gaze in the dimly lit aisle, Jaemin becomes acutely aware of how his lingering presence might be perceived as stalkerish. In an attempt to ease the tension, he crosses his arms and leans against the shelf.

"So, what brings you to Seaside Stories?"

You glance up from the worn pages of the book, meeting Jaemin's gaze with a hint of curiosity in your eyes.

"Seaside Stories," you repeat, the name rolling off your tongue as you gesture around the cozy bookstore. "It's a lovely name. Is there a story behind it?"

Jaemin scratches the back of his head again, another sheepish grin gracing his lips. "Yeah, it's, um, the name of the store," he admits, his tone tinged with a touch of embarrassment.

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance towards the entrance. "But the sign outside just says bookstore," you remark.

The boy shifts awkwardly. "Right, about that... I, uh, I haven't gotten around to changing it yet," he confesses.

You can't help but chuckle at his honesty. "Well, Seaside Stories suits it perfectly," you assure him.

"Thanks," he murmurs, his voice bashful. "I'm glad you think so."

You nod, feeling a gentle warmth spreading through the air between you. The moment hangs suspended, the soft rustle of pages and the faint scent of old books enveloping you both in a cocoon of quiet intimacy.

As Jaemin stands, slightly uncomfortable by the wooden shelf that dug into his shoulder, he clears his throat, breaking the silence. "So..." he begins tentatively, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words.

You meet his gaze, "So... what's on your mind?" you prompt, a smirk teasing the corners of your lips.

A faint flush colors Jaemin's cheeks as he gathers his thoughts, his eyes flickering. "You never answered my question... What brings you here today?" he asks.

"Just exploring," you reply with a shrug, "I have a soft spot for bookshops, especially ones with charming yellow notes on the door," you add playfully.

As if his face could get any deeper shade of red, Jaemin's face grows hot again. He nods, excitment lighting up his features. "It's always nice to meet fellow book lovers," he remarks.

"Absolutely."

Another wave of silence passes between the both of you as you continue to fumble through the pages of the tattered book in your hands. The cover depicted what looked like a blue haired pirate aboard a rickety wooden boat. Definitely not what you'd read on a normal day. And absolutely nothing like what you write.

Suddenly aware of the lingering silence for the upteenth time, he attempts to clear his throat, but it comes out in a cackle that sounded like a dying cat. "So, uh, can I help you find anything specific?" he asks, his words stumbling over each other in his eagerness to fill the void.

You shake your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "No, I'm just browsing, thank you."

"Right, of course," he mumbles, his gaze darting nervously around the room. "Well, um, let me know if you need anything. I'll just... be around."

With an awkward half-wave, Jaemin retreats down the aisle, leaving you to explore the shelves in peace. As you watch him go, a smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

This boy was weird, but in a good way, you think.

Now come to think of it, so was the boy in the coffee shop.

Must be something in the water.

[ectologia]

love your stuff!! would you be ok with making something about bakugo just being a bully?

HARD TIMES

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X F!READER

𝐂𝐖 ♱ DUBCON/NONCON, BULLYING, ABUSE, SWEATY ARMPITS, PISS, HUMILIATION, MISOGYNY, SIZE KINK, SIZE DIFFERENCE, CRUEL NICKNAMES, DEGRADATION, OBJECTIFICATION, PROFANITY

“Hey.”

You shuffle down the corridor quicker at the deep, rumbling snarl. Twisting the straps of your bag tighter in your clammy fists as you take long, purposeful strides, almost skipping in your steps.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” A heavy palm lands on your shoulder, squeezing like a python once your back collides with the wall.

Your eyes follow the stocky blonde’s form all the way up his hard chest, chasing to confirm the two crimson rubies placed atop his tanned features like the gems of a crown.

Bakugou juts his chin upwards in an abrasive fashion the moment you whimper under the pressure of his fingertips.

“I didn’t see you in math today.”

You sweep his hand off, shuffling backwards beneath his stoic gaze. “I.. Uhm.. I switched classes..” You mumble, barely coherent under your meek breath.

“Why’s that.”

It’s not a question, nor does he care for an answer.

One thudding foot after another and he’s in your shadow, looming over you like the sun swallowing the moon.

Two thick biceps come to rest by your spinning head, propped against the wall at the perfect angle for the heady stench of his sweaty armpits to suffocate you in the tight space.

“I’m disappointed, I was looking forward to seeing my little cock-sock today.”

You turn, raising a defensive fore-arm. “Please, Bakugou. Not today, I��”

He curls a set of scarred fingers around the flimsy joint, stretching it upwards until he has you pinned like a butterfly, helpless and vulnerable against the wall.

“What’s my name?” He scoffs.

You squeal once the calloused digits tense, popping and rolling your delicate bones in a painful hug.

“Katsuki! Katsuki!”

His fist goes limp once again. “There we go.. stupid bitch.”

The heavy appendage drops back down to his side, as does yours. You rub at the red stripes left across your skin, encouraging the blood to pool back into your veins.

“I ain’t got much time, training’s in 20 minutes.”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up, brows knitted in pardon.

His eyes roll in their sockets. “Get your pussy out, need to fuck something.”

Panic strikes and you’re flinching away.

“Hey, stop acting like such a little victim — just spread ‘em.”

It takes him less than 3 seconds to do it himself. You’re hoisted up onto the window-sill with one large palm splayed across your ass, while the other comes down to paw at the fabric stretched across your chubby mound.

“Thought I told you to stop wearing these shitty shorts under your skirt.”

“I can’t, they’re part of the uniform policy!”

“Blah, blah, bitch.” He tugs at the black spandex. “All I’m hearing is you want your pussy lips burnt off.”

The fibres twang and snap under the crackling heat of his quirk, disconnecting until a grand burning hole is left in the garment.

“Katsuki!”

“That’s me.” He snickers with a toothy grin, pulling away to inspect the tiny slit between your legs.

“Did you get looser?” He cleaves the swollen folds apart, hooking two thumbs around the gooey rim of your pussyhole.

You tuck your chin into your chest, frowning down at his ministrations.

“Only joking babe.” He spanks your clit, chuckling at the way your legs jump. “She’s still good for another fuck or two.”

He wastes no time, pulling the stiff length of his fat dick out to slap against your puffed up pussy.

“Let’s do this quick, yeah? Don’t really wanna be seen piping a loser, no offence.”

You’re swung back and forth by the hinges of your knees with your feet left dangling in the air, clumsily knocking his back with every hop.

His hips clap against the crease of your thighs, pumping in and out of your sloppy cunny as the bulbous head of his cock pokes at your cervix.

“Oh, fuck, yeah. Bounce that fat-ass back on me, just like that.” He howls through the thin space of his pursed lips, huffing and puffing as he lifts you up and down on his prick.

“B— Katsuki!”

“Shh, shut up.”

He squeezes your face in between his fingers, smothering your mouth in an attempt to keep your cries to a minimum.

A dewy sheen bubbles along his hairline, darkening the beach blond spikes until the ends droop from the humidity. The way his large frame tips forward to knock his sweaty forehead against yours has you mewling, clawing at his shoulders for stability and some form of comfort as he uses you like his own girlie little flesh-light.

“Mmh.. Fuck on it, fuck on that cock, fuck on that big fat monster cock.”

His rapid thumping slows to a mellow pace as a ponderous expression befalls him. “All this humping’s making me need a piss.”

At this, you yelp. Thrashing around in his arms like a fish out of water.

He takes one step, two steps, towards the window until you’re squashed and squished against the glass.

“Well done piggie. You’ve just been promoted to Katsuki Bakugou’s new toilet.”

The torrid stream has you feeling almost bloated, on the brink of bursting as you’re pumped full off cock and piss, dribbling and squirting out of the tiny seam left in the space that Katsuki has yet to fill. Your toes curl and cripple from the positively sickening warmth of his urine spraying out of your cunt, sloshing around in what you can only assume is your womb.

“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff…” His ears twitch at the sensation of releasing inside your body.

Your head lounges against your shoulder, floating in and out of consciousness until a stinging smack to your cheek has you shaking yourself awake.

“You passin’ out on me already?” He adjusts his position, bringing your pliable, fucked-out body closer towards his chest.

“I ain’t even cum yet, baby.”

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon – 001

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1.7k

Warm water trickles your skin, washing away your filth. Physically you weren’t dirty, but subconsciously you felt that way; you’re curled up in the fetal position on the bathtub floor, as still as a frightened rabbit. Your body felt numb, and you envisioned yourself anywhere but where you were now.

You had been laying in this position for about 20 minutes now. You knew eventually you’d have to get up. You didn’t want the wrath of your stepmother banging on the door shouting about how you were running up the water bill.

You finally find your strength to get up, turning off the water. You sit for a few more minutes in silence. It was quiet in the house. You figured your stepmother had gone to bed. You grab your towel from atop of the toilet tank, standing up to wrap it around your body.

You step onto the shaggy rug outside of the tub, drying your feet off. Last thing you wanted to hear was complaints about how you left the floor wet. Your stepmom would bitch about anything if she could.

You open the door, peeking your head out to make sure she wasn’t walking around the hallway. It was radio silence, and dark. You shuffle down to your bedroom, your feet pattering against the hardwood floors. You notice your stepmother’s bedroom door was closed, officially confirming that she was indeed asleep.

You softly close your bedroom door behind you, letting out a meek sigh. You dry yourself off, quickly trying to change so you could head out for the night. You needed the fresh air. You felt suffocated the longer you stayed in here. You grab your set of house keys from your nightstand, leaving back out of your bedroom. You tiptoe past your stepmom’s room, making your way into the living room.

You slipped on your shoes that were sitting by the front door, and you were almost home free until you heard her voice. “Going somewhere?” You jump in surprise, the lights suddenly flicked on to reveal your stepmother sitting at the dining room table. She’s sitting with a bottle of tequila on the table, the glass she was drinking it from in her hands. She was drunk to all hell.

“I’m– I’m just going for a walk…” You stutter, timidly. She scoffs. “Don’t lie to me. You’re going to those trailer parks to see that hillbilly Dixon boy, aren’t you?” You don’t respond, and she snickers. “Those boys ain’t nothin’ but trouble. I don’t see why you even go over there. What’re you doing? Letting them run a train on you?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, holding back your tears. “I’m just going for a walk.” You repeat, opening your front door to leave. “Make sure you get your money's worth, you slut!” She shouts. You slam the door behind you, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your sweater as you make your way to the trailer parks. It wasn’t too far from where you lived, probably like a 20 minute walk if you had to estimate it.

Your best friend Daryl Dixon, who you were on your way to see, used to live a couple blocks down from you. That was before the house fire that claimed the life of his mother happened. Now he, his older brother Merle, and their father Will were living in a shaggy trailer park neighborhood.

“Right where they belonged” your stepmother would say. You make it to the trailer parks, walking through until you get to the Dixon residence. You notice their lights were on, meaning they were likely awake. As you readied yourself to walk up the stairs, the sound of a loud crash makes you freeze. “You ever talk to me like that again, boy, I’ll make you wish you died in that fire too. Ya hear me?!”

Will Dixon could be heard yelling from inside. A pretty normal occurrence for the Dixon home. “Man, get off me!” You hear Daryl shout back, his heavy southern accent easy to distinguish. “You leave out that door boy, you can sleep out there tonight.”

“Like I give a damn!” The door is suddenly ripped open, and Daryl steps outside, slamming it close behind him. The brunette pauses as he sees you at the end of the stairs, staring up at him. He’s quiet for a moment. “You heard all that?” He asks, coming down the steps towards you.

“Just the end of it.” You say. You notice there’s a cut on his lower lip. Your eyebrows knit together in concern as you reach up, letting your thumb gently brush over the wound. “Your lip’s busted.” You frown. Daryl winced, moving his head back from your touch.

“To hell with it.” He mutters. “Whad’ya doin’ here?”

Your head tips to the side slightly, and you give him a small smile. “I’m always here.”

You and Daryl sat without a word, your backs rested up against a southern magnolia tree in the woods. This was a spot you two always went when you wanted to get away from everything. It usually involves you both in silence listening to wildlife. You didn’t mind it. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words anyway. Hasn’t been since his mom’s death. Regardless of if you guys did talk or not, you were just happy to be in his presence.

“Merle’s in jail.” He disrupts the silence, picking a stick off the ground before he begins to break it apart piece by piece. Merle was always in jail so that didn’t surprise you one bit.

Both the Dixon boys weren’t strangers when it came to trouble, but Merle was the worst of the two. Anytime Daryl caught himself in any trouble with the law it came from dumb shit Merle dragged him into.

You truly couldn’t stand Merle, but you could never tell that to Daryl. His loyalty to his older brother was impeccable. You hope one day he could get out of that phase and come to the realization that Merle wasn’t good for him.

“What did he do this time?” You ask, not really needing to as you could guess that it probably involved him assaulting someone. He wasn’t exactly a people person. “He beat the hell outta some guy in a bar.”

‘Bingo. Right on the mark.’

“That brother of yours isn’t gonna be satisfied until he’s locked in there for life.” You mumbled. Daryl shoots you a look. “What? You can’t just go around beating people up without consequences. That’s not how the world works.”

“Asshole probably deserved it.” He murmured, chucking the stick. You roll your eyes, deciding not to push the subject any further. You hear Daryl wince, and you look over to see him messing around with the cut on his lip.

You dig in the pockets of your sweater in search of something you could wipe the blood off with. Great forces are on your side as you pull out an alcohol prep wipe. You often carried them around for moments like these. This isn’t the first time you’ve cleaned up a wound left on Daryl by his father, or even a wound on yourself.

You rip open the package before gently grabbing the brunette’s face to make him look over at you. “Hold still.” You say, placing the wipe on his open wound. He winces again, trying to move his head back but you don’t let him. “Oh cut it out you big baby, it’s not that bad. You don’t want it to get infected, do you?”

Daryl grumbles, but sits still to let you work. It’s quiet as you do, nothing but the sound of an owl hooting. You could feel Daryl’s eyes on you, and your focus shifts from his lip to his blue hues. “What?”

“That come from her?” He questions, nodding his head to the choke bruise on your neck. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. You swallow a lump that was beginning to well up at the back of your throat and shake your head. “She had another guy come by today. This one was into choking…”

Daryl’s jaw clenched in anger. Every time he heard about the men your stepmother invited over he just wanted to go there himself to rid you of the burden once and for all. But he didn’t want to put you in a worse situation than you already were in. “You don’t deserve what she’s doin’ to you.”

“Neither do you.” You remark. “But that’s just our reality.”

“Don’t have to be.” He declared. You pull the wipe from his lip, deciding it was clean enough. You ball it up, tossing it wherever on the ground. “Done.” You smile faintly, moving on from the topic. You didn’t want to think about it right now. “S’gettin’ late,” he comments. “Want me to walk you back home?” He offers.

“What’re you gonna do?” You remember his dad telling him not to come back. You’d think that he truly didn’t mean that but even you knew that Will made sure there was no way Daryl could get back inside the house tonight. “I’ma come back here to sleep. Ain’t the first time my old man’s kicked me out. Damn sure ain’t gonna be the last.”

You nod. “Then it looks like I’m staying.” You insist, settling against the tree. Daryl shakes his head. “I don’t need you to-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off before he could argue. “I’m staying.” You lean your head against the tree, your eyes closing. Daryl stares at you for a moment. Your stubbornness amazed him sometimes. It was worse than his own, but he knew he couldn’t fight you when you made up your mind on something.

“Fine.” He says, settling against the tree along with you. You scoot a bit closer to the brunette, letting your head fall on his shoulder. He tenses a bit, but calms his nerves. His body relaxes underneath you.

“Hey.” Daryl mutters, unsure if you’re awake or fast asleep already. You hum in response. “You really ain’t gotta be here.” He tries once more to change your mind. You smile.

“I’m always here.”

Taglist:

@daryldixmedown, @supernaturalstilinski, @vampiresluv, @myassisasolarsystem

[houseofanticipation]

You've always been an outdoor person. You're a camper, a hiker, an explorer. You feel at home in this forest; miles upon miles of trees in every direction, the only hints of civilization a handful of campgrounds and the odd ranger station. Years of experience have made you comfortable here, in the cool, quiet air.

Maybe too comfortable.

It's late morning when you first notice someone behind you on the trail. You don't see them when you look back. You just their footsteps, the sound of cracking twigs and crunching leaves. You expect them to pass you, as you're taking a pretty leisurely pace, but the footsteps always seem to be about 20 feet behind you. You start to get annoyed. This person's thousand-pound feet are ruining your nice, quiet walk. You step to the side of the trail and wait the person to pass.

And so do they.

That makes you nervous. You start walking again, and they walk with you. You stop, they stop. You begin to think you might be in trouble. Careful to keep the noise at you front, you take the folded trail map out of your pocket and begin to scan it. There's a ranger station not far ahead; if you can just make it that far, you might be safe.

You break into a brisk walk, and your pursuer keeps pace. This trail was made intentionally with a lot bends in it, so each hiker or group of hikers could feel like the wilderness was their own, without running into many other people. It means your pursuer can stay relatively close to you without ever entering your line of sight. You're close now, you recognize the little footbridge over this creek, so you break into a run, skidding on mud and dried leaves as you make a mad dash for safety. The footsteps crash through the forest behind you, and you're too afraid to turn around but you're sure they're gaining on you. You see the ranger station up ahead, a little log cabin with a green door, and you practically fly up the front steps, through the unlocked door. You slam it shut behind you and throw the deadbolt, sliding down the door in a mess of exhaustion and nerves.

The ranger station consists of a single room, with a ladder up to a small loft space where the ranger sleeps. You were hoping to find help, but the ranger isn't here at the moment. That's okay. Just the locked door on its own makes you feel a lot better. You listen intently for any sound outside, but all you hear is birdsong, and wind through the trees.

Then someone is trying to turn the door handle. The sound makes you jump, but you try to stay brave. You're still safe. They can't get in.

You hear a man's voice on the other side of the door. "Hello?"

You summon your courage and call back. "Leave me alone! What do you want from me?"

The voice sounds surprised. "I...I don't want anything from you ma'am. It's just...well, you're kind of in my office." You get to your hands and knees and crawl to the front window, just peeking over the sill. Outside is a flustered looking man in a ranger uniform. Relief floods your body. You let him in.

"Thank god," he says. "I'm not supposed to leave the station unlocked, I thought at first some teenagers had gotten in here and...hey, what's wrong?" He's seen the look in your eyes, the way you're still panting, the state of your hair. You explain to him about the footsteps, the chase through the woods, how you hid here for safety. His eyes grow wider with your every word. "Shit, that's terrible. Drink some water, get yourself hydrated while I check around out there." He offers you his canteen. You begin to tell him you have your own water, but he waves you off. "No, no, I can't let you use your own rations. I've got extra water reserves here just for unprepared hikers, I won't run out. Please."

You take the canteen and drink, sitting on a hard folding chair while the ranger goes back outside. Now that you think about it, you're actually incredibly thirsty. You finish off the ranger's canteen, and feel a little bad about it, but he seemed insistent that you should have it.

You're exhausted. It had already been a long day of hiking, and then you went and spent the rest of your energy running through the forest. You were probably overreacting, you think as your eyelids begin to droop. Maybe it was just an illusion, your own footsteps somehow echoed back to you by the forest. In the warmth and safety of the ranger station, the fear you felt before seems almost silly.

Your limbs feel sluggish and disconnected. Your head seems to be full of rocks. Your eyelids fall closed, and you're out before you hit the floor.

You come to little by little, slowly becoming aware of several odd sensation at once. The first thing you notice is that you feel good. Incredible, actually. You're having trouble wrapping your head around why exactly—you're having trouble putting thoughts together, connecting raw sensation to ideas or meanings. But you like how you're feeling, you know that much.

There's more to it though, because you also hurt, which you don't like. There's something rough pressing up against your back, and your arms and legs are sore. You're cold, too, colder than you've been in a long time, and a cool wind stings your bare skin. Why is your skin bare?

You open your eyes. You're in a forest clearing, a place you recognize. It's a popular camping spot, secluded but not far from the trail. You're on a tree—tied to it, you realize, that's the rough thing on your back, and the reason you're so sore. Coils of rope around your wrists are pulling your arms up and behind you, like you're giving the tree a backwards hug. Something similar is happening with your legs, and a rope across your throat is keeping you from pointing your head down.

You are naked.

The ranger is there, leaning into you, and for a confused moment you think he's trying to untie you, but then the whole picture suddenly falls into place. He is raping you, slowly and indulgently, moaning openly as he slides cock up and down, in and out of your pussy. Fear jolts you awake, your fight-or-flight response taking control, but you you have no way to fight and now means of fleeing. You begin to scream, thrashing against your bonds, but they're solid and secure. You're not going anywhere.

"Oh good you're...oh!...awake," says the ranger, still inside you. "I have to tell you, I thought you looked cute when I decided to follow you, but I had no idea you'd be this...o...oh, fuck...this good. I think you've got the tightest little cunt I've ever fucked."

Just because that pleasurable feeling isn't wanted anymore doesn't mean it's going away. With every thrust of the ranger's cock, the feeling builds inside you, threatening to spill over. "Please," you whimper. You can't cum, not here, not to this. "Please stop, let me go."

The ranger grins and looks at you. He gives you an extra deep thrust and you moan in spite of yourself, your muscles contracting and your pussy tightening around him. "Why would I...oh, fuck that's good...why would I stop when you're clearly enjoying this just as much as I am?"

Tears stream down your face. You can't control it now. Waves of tension wash your body, each one making you seize tighter, arching your back, straining your bonds. As the final wave crashes over you the ranger gives one last moan and buries his face in your neck, his cum seeming to warm your shivering body from the inside. You go limp, wobbly, all the tension draining from your body with the cum that spills forth as he withdraws his cock.

The ranger buckles up his pants and leans over, hands on his knees, panting. "Fuck, girl. I can't just keep that cunt to myself. People need to know!" He goes behind you somewhere, and you can hear leaves rustle. When he comes back he holds a stake in his hand: a signpost, with a printed metal sign attached. He shows it to you:

Elk Trail Cum Dump

The park thanks you for your patronage. Feel free to use this receptacle as you see fit.

"I had this made up a few years back." Says the ranger as he hammers it into the ground in front of you. "We've had a handful of cum dumps, but I'll tell you what, you're definitely the best." He looks you up and down, then steps forward and sticks his middle and index fingers up inside you. You tighten reflexively, and he whistles. "Fuuuck me that's good! Alright, I'll probably be back tonight with some friends. New cum dump always attracts some attention. Stay tight, honey." He gives your cheek a little slap and walks away.

It hurts for a while. The bark against your skin. The ropes digging into you. Your shoulders, supporting your weight for so long. But after your sixth hour or so it all just fades into a general, dispassionate numbness.

People walk by sometimes. You hear them on the trail and call out for help. They come, usually but they don't help. A pair of young women laugh and take selfies with their fingers in your pussy. And old man rapes you breathlessly while is wife rolls her eyes and laughs good-naturedly. A middle aged woman with a big backpack says she's going to help you out, which turns out to mean producing a vibrator and giving you the most mind-melting, earth-shattering orgasm of your life, before saying a polite goodbye and leaving you tied up.

When your bladder gets full you just piss right there. It's not a bad way to do it, really; with your legs pulled back like this, you manage not to get much on you. You're a little more concerned about what happens when you need to shit, but you suppose there's a chance you can hold it until you die of hunger or thirst.

A man with a bushy beard gives you a long look before leaving and coming back with a long branch, one end whittled barkless and smooth. He inserts the smooth end into your pussy and sets the other end on the ground, held up only by your natural grip. He instructs you to bounce up and down on it while he masturbates. It's a little thick for you, but it actually feels pretty good, and you try to put on a good show for him as thanks. He lets you keep in there when he leaves, as a way to pass the hours.

You fall asleep just as the sun is setting. You find if you rest your head against the tree just so, you can relax without it falling forward and choking you on the rope across your neck. When you wake again it's full night, and someone has built a little fire in a circle of stones. A dozen or so men are lounging around, laughing, chatting, drinking beers out of a cooler. And raping you of course, but you barely even notice that now. All it really means to you is that someone took away your nice stick.

The ranger is among the men, though he's out of uniform. He raises a beer to you when he sees you're awake. "Welcome back to the land of the living! My buddies here are loving that little pussy of yours."

"You shouldn't have open flames out here," you croak, your throat dry. "You could start a...a...ah! Forest fire." Your sentence is interrupted when the man currently inside you does a strange sort of twisting thing you don't quite understand, and the jolt of pleasure takes you by surprise.

"Ah, fuck you," says the ranger. "Which of us here is the park ranger and which is the cum dump? I know my way around a fire."

"If you say so," you say as the man adds another load of cum to your collection.

He's drunk, you can tell. They're all a little drunk, their words a little slurred, their movements a little wobbly. As the next guy slides into you, you nod at the bottle in his hand. "Hey, let me get a little of that." He holds the bottle up to your lips obligingly, and while most of it splashes down your chin and across your breasts, you get a few good swigs in. It's a party, after all.

When everyone's had their turn on you the boys decide to play a game called "Hide the Herring," which turns out to consist of everyone scattering to find objects, and then taking turns trying to fit them inside you, the winner being the one with the largest object that manages to fit completely inside you. You get several different rocks, some sticks, big chunk of frozen together ice cubes, One guy tries to fit a full, unopened bottle of beer in you, fat end first. It stretches you almost to your limit but he manages, with a bit of clitoral stimulation, to get it all the way up to the neck. He says, "if you can hold on to it for ten seconds you can drink the whole thing," and you agree gamely to give it a try. He takes his hand away and the whole crowd counts down as you clench around this bottle, harder to do when you can't close your legs. You can feel it slipping, little by little, but when the count reaches zero it's still there, and you let it slip out into its owner's waiting hands. He cracks it open and holds it to your mouth, and you close your lips around it. You don't want to lost any like last time. The group is so impressed by the way you open your throat and let it drain into you that they give you another, and another after that. By the end of your fourth beer you're definitely feeling the alcohol, and the last of the fear and misery of the situation falls away like the last remnants of a lizard's skin. Being the Elk Trail Cum Dump, you guess, isn't so bad after all.

The winner of Hide the Herring ends up being a full ten pack of hot dogs. The entrant opens it up, uses two of the hot dogs to pack the wrapping into your pussy, and then spends about fifteen minutes cutting the other eight into pieces and popping them, one at a time, into your asshole. There's a lot of arguing about whether using your ass is allowed, or if it still counts as one object once the package is open, but it doesn't matter to you. Being filled this full feels amazing, and you manage to convince one of the guys to fuck you with your ass stuffed like this. Chunks of hot dog pop out of your ass, two and three at a time as you cum, and he leaves you dripping, feeling warm and gooey.

You get fucked a few more times as they set up camp for the night. Everyone's cum at least once by now, so the loads are getting a little thin, but that's okay. You feel as though you are melting into the tree, becoming a part of it. When you wake tomorrow, you imagine your arms and legs will have grown into its bark, your hair becoming leaves, your heart and lungs and mind becoming wood. Nothing more than a handful of tight wet holes for hikers and campers to enjoy. With this image glowing in your mind's eye, you drift off into a contented sleep.

[kookies2000]

A Smile Behind the Crown Chapter 1

Wonderland Au

Au by @endomentendo

Sorry this took so long. It started off as a one shot and kinda turned into a story with over 15 to 20 chapters........... so I hope I make you proud!!!!

…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….

Tik Tok and tok tik

The sounds likes to haunt

Smiling when the time is down

Work with the needs of the royal crown

Hands on the clock move round and round

Wipe wipe wipe, clean windows, clear vision

Chop chop chop, all the way in the kitchen

Sweep sweep sweep, across the halls

Brush brush brush the walls

Cut cut cut the green grass

Tap tap tap the glass

Keep my head

Rest in bed

Repeat

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Day and night

Go to the left and right

Plant the roses in their beds

All of this so I don't lose my head

Do as I'm told so I don't end up dead

Work in the heat and breaking a sweat

Hello and goodbye to the queen and king

Clean through autumn and through the spring

The bounds around my ankles cause pain

They clink and clang as I walk with chains

Voice so loud with screams it's strained

Tears on my cheeks left me with stains

Throat so dry I can't even complain

My emotions are a big hurricane

Family and friends are in vain

I have no one to blame

Started with a flame

Pain hit like a train

Tik tok, tik tok!

LET ME

OUT!

…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….…….

Oh, it didn't use to be like this. No, it used to be magical. A world full of colour and laughter. I would jump from tree to tree, and run on water, all as long as I never let go of his hand. I was always safe and sound throughout my childhood. Running so fast I was lifted into the air. Running on air, stepping on clouds, and falling in the air at record speeds. I didn't care if the ground got closer. I embraced the feeling of the air running through my skin and dress. Arms out as if to hug something that wasn't there. Only to disappear before the ground can hurt me. It was all….. so………. pulchritudinous! And to imagine it used to be all so blurry. Hidden away in my brain with other memories I couldn't remember. Like they were just whisked away into a field of forgotten. Begging to be found.

As happy as I am to finally remember my family and friends, I wish it didn't come at this cost. But I would rather be locked up with my loved ones and rot in here with them, no regrets and in the arms of everyone I love.

Almost everyone. I wonder where he is. Did he escape? I hope he did, he doesn't deserve to be locked in this inky blackness and consumed by sadness. Even if he was a thorn in the side. What I wouldn't give to see his glowing smile again.

24 years ago

Tossing and turning in her bed, she was so excited for today. She couldn't help but smile throughout her sleep, just waiting for the sun to rise. The very second the golden rays rose, she kicked the blankets off her bed and didn't even bother putting on shoes. Her little bare feet created tiny stepping sounds that echoed on the empty halls. She couldn't wait any longer! She had to see if everything was set up. Her head didn't even reach the windows for her to look out. So with every step she would leap into the air to look out the windows. Her heart skipped when she saw a glimpse of silver and white decorations.

Filled with glee, she sprinted across the halls as fast as she could. So fast her feet barely touched the ground and she could feel herself get lifted into the air.

“Where are you going?” Literally lifted into the air. She felt a pair of warm arms wrap around her and lift her up. She smiled knowing who's beautiful voice this belonged to.

“The coronation is today!” She chimed as she flapped her arms and kicked her feet. The woman held her closer and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Yes, it is. But it doesn't start until sunset. There's still lots to do before the princess is crowned.” The lady walked the little girl back into her room.

“But mama!” The little girl groaned in disappointment. Her mom placed her back in bed and went to her closet. Her hands brushing against every piece of clothing as if examining each one.

“No buts Ann, the castle must be neat and tighty.” The mother pulled out a maids dress that was the size of her daughters. Ann groaned again and fell back into her bed, throwing the blanket over her head.

“Mama!” her voice was muffled by the blanket.

“Oh Ann, we don't want our future queen to be crowned in a mess, now do we?” her mother placed the cleaning dress onto the bed and gently tugged at the blanket. She heard her daughter sigh before popping back out of the blanket. Her face had a slight pout and her button eye was covered by her dark hair.

Her eye looked down at the dress before her, blue and white, her favourite colours.

“Ok mama.” she gave in and pulled her dress closer. Her mom smiled warmly at the sight of her little one. So small, so innocent and clean. She ran her plushed hand through her daughter's head full of yarn, pulling it away from her face. She sighed at the sight of her pink button eye, a trait she shared with her aunt.

Once dressed, she held her mother's hand and out of her room they went. She felt her mother's doll-like hand place itself on her back and straightened her out.

“Stand up straight dear, no slouching.” She said in her usual warm voice. Ann nodded and kept her posture straight as they walked the halls. The red carpet below them nudged them along as if it was also in a hurry.

“Yes, yes, we are going.” The mother giggled as the carpet below them kept bending and moving to make them move faster. Curtains to every window moved aside to let in the new sunlight. Blinding Ann for a moment before she was given a sponge to start cleaning the glass. The curtains lifted the young Ann off the floor and higher so she could clean the upper windows.

“Thank you.” Ann smiled politely.

Everyday was the same. Bed at seven, wake up at five eleven. Clean the windows and brush the curtains. Once done, dust the dust bunnies away from the armoured knights. She always felt bad doing this though. The dust bunnies always ran for their lives.

“Dust off the lint from your bow.” Her aunt patted her head as she vacuumed the halls. Sucking up any dust bunnies that tried to make a run for it. The red carpet had to be free of dirt, and so did Ann apparently. That never made sense to the young girl.

The garden was beautiful. Flowers dancing in their pots and singing a beautiful morning song. Bushes and trees ran to their place as gardeners prepared a new hole for them to rest in.

“Arms firm.” Her father helped her hold the shovel. They dug and dug for what seemed like forever. Leaving holes for the new white roses that were impatiently tapping their leaves.

“Snobs.” Ann whispered under her breath, letting her father receive a slap to the face.

“I didn't say anything!” Her father looked at the roses confused.

Then it was lunch time, at long last. She can sit for a while and relax.

“Pinky out.” Her mother whispered gently as they had their lunch break. Maybe not relax. Even in her free time she had to be prim and proper. Even walking across the garden with her aunt was a chore.

“What did we talk about slouching?” Her aunt fixed Ann’s back again and placed her arms behind her back, “No twiddling your fingers dear!”

Ann nodded yes and did as told.

“Open your mouth wide!” Her aunt commanded. Ann did as told and opened as wide as she could, “Now, with proper articulation, what will we say when her majesty speaks to you?”

“Yes your majesty!” She bowed the best a 6 year old can. Her stubby legs felt a little unsteady as she did. Her aunt took notice of her niece having trouble and held her steady.

“Practice, dear, practice.” Her aunt assured her. Ann nodded and kept her balance.

Practice, they told her. Practice everyday. She had to learn how to dance, how to read, how to garden, how to eat like a lady, and how to do everything with grace and elegance. It was repetitive, boring even. But it was peaceful. No risks, no danger, no worries. Just a steady life. And Ann was expected to follow this steady life until the end.

She felt a yawn come as she dusted the library. Quiet, with not a single sound interrupting it. The little girl sighed but a little smile remained. She dusted all the desks from the library, making sure not a single dust bunny remained. She sighed once more as she hopped on her toes to dust the shelves, she could barely reach the second row of books.

“Need help?” Her brother's voice spoke up. He was no taller than her but definitely took more risks. He dragged a chair behind him and slammed it next to her. He took the duster from her doll hands and dusted the second and third row of books.

“Thanks Randy.” Ann smiled her usual sweet smile. He gave a confident thumbs up and climbed the shelf some more to get the rows above.

As she watched her brother help, she looked around the library to see all the books organised and neat. The setting sun shined a radiant red onto them making them look like they glowed. Her eye landed on all the fairytale books she read. Books about magic, witches, dragons, curses, nothing wonderland hasn't seen. Princesses, queens, kings, and of course a prince. She adored these books to death. The excitement they created, the world's they shared, and the beautiful moments of love they told. She consumed every last word her 6 year old mind can process. How she wished she could experience these moments. Run to the mountains, see the world from above, climb every tree in sight and defeat enemies! And find a charming prince on the way that can rescue her from danger.

“It's almost time kids!” They heard their aunt come in. Ann's day dream came to an end and left her in reality. Unlike the books she read, she wasn't destined for a great adventure or even a prince. She was destined to clean and be a maid. Destined to wake up, get dressed, clean the halls, clean the restrooms, clean the windows, vacuumed the carpets, fix the garden, sleep and repeat. All while looking proper. It was near to impossible to do all this but it was more than possible in Wonderland.

But she can't complain, her family loved her.

They loved her so much they finished their chores early so Ann can get ready and wear her best dress to the coronation. A dress her father requested the Chatter family to create for her. She loved that family. They were always so colourful and made her laugh like chimes in the wind.

After she put on her dress, she looked at herself in the mirror to see it consumed her entire body. Forget me not flowers decorated her waist and hair. The dress was blue and white to match everyone else. It puffed out so much she had to raise her arms to not wrinkle the smooth silk. It was time.

She happily arrived at the castle's garden, listening to the trees hum a tune as the birds chirped along. The flowers sang along and swayed back and forth as they awaited the princess. She couldn't wait to see her. Their future queen! Ann kicked her feet and clapped her hands in excitement, she swore she would explode.

Seconds felt like hours to her until finally the horns sounded. She gasped and looked down the altar with everyone else. There she was, the princess soon to be queen. Dressed in a sparkling white and blue dress that outshines the stars themselves. Ann clapped excitedly as the princess walked down the garden with all eyes on her. Graceful, beautiful, magnificent, and elegant. Everything this kingdom needed. Once at the end of the aisle, the princess bowed to her family and the Chatter family. Everyone had proud smiles on as the king began his speech.

“Today is a special day for my daughter!” The king announced. As he spoke, Ann looked over at the Chatter family. An odd bunch, in fact they were considered the oddest of the odd. Their heads were nothing but a pair of dentures while other family members had a deck of cards for a head. But that was the beauty of the Chatter family, they were a colourful and wondrous sight to behold. And mist if all, her friend was there!

A little boy around her age was holding the golden crown. His hat too large for his head, or jaw in this case. The poor thing only had one eye to see with as the other was covered by the ribbon of his hat. His blue eye scanned the guests and he gasped in delight when he saw the doll.

“Hi!” Ann whispered loudly and waved. The young pair of teeth waved back, dropping the crown for a split second.

“Careful Chatter.” His mom caught the crown before it could hit the ground. The young boy could only chuckle nervously as he held still for the ceremony.

“ Please rise!” The king announced. Ann hopped out of her seat just like everyone else. All eyes locked on the scene before them, “Bring me the crown!”

The moment the king announced this, little boy Chatter scurried across the stage and held up the crown high and proudly. The ribbon of his hat covered both his eyes in the process. The king and queen chuckled at the adorable sight.

“Thank you my dear.” The queen smiled and took the crown from the little Chatter. Chatter gleefully clapped his hands and ran back to his family as the king hovered the crown over his daughters head.

“I hereby present my daughter this crown. Which will symbolise power, generosity, kindness, bravery and intelligence. Qualities she worked hard everyday to perfect so she can rule this land! And today, she will be known as the new queen of Wonderland!” The king announced. The very second the crown rested upon the new queen's head, the garden was filled with cheers and claps. People welcomed the new leader with open arms and congratulated her as she and her family walked down the aisle.

As everyone began to move to the ballroom for the celebratory dinner, Ann ran through the crowd to find her friend. Her only friend in this castle really. The castle kids usually had a busy schedule like her so they didn't spend much time together. Or they were higher ups like the kids of the ladies in waiting or the royal family. She never crossed paths with them much.

But the little Chatter lived in the servants quarters with her and her family. He was the son of a simple hat maker and a dress designer. While wacky and colourful, Chatter liked to stay put in the castle.

“We have all we need here!” He exclaimed as he and Ann walked in the garden with other children playing around. The Chatter hopped onto a leaf and tapped his foot. The leaf raised the little boy into the air as he waved his hands in the air like a showman.

“Why, and I do mean why, would anyone want to leave this magical castle?” He chimed. He looked down at a smiling Ann with a smile of his own.

“It was just a thought Chatter.” Ann twiddled with her fingers and looked around the garden. Her eye scan all the smiling faces of every child. Everyone was so happy and content with their lives inside the walls and sometimes she questioned why.

They lived in a world of wonder and magic. A world where normality didn't exist and anything can happen. Yet everyone seemed content in this box they were in. It was almost as if everyone was hiding from something, maybe from someone.

“You know what they say my dear Ann!” Chatter hopped off the leaf and glided his way next to her. His arms out like a proud little boy as he chimed like the cleanest of wind pipes, “A single drop of thought can cause the biggest splash of ideas!”

“Oh?” Ann tilted her head in curiosity, “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea!” Chatter chimed again in glee, “But my mom tells me that every night. If it's important enough to be said by her, it must be true!”

A soft giggle escaped the doll's mouth. She loved her friend to death but she still wished he would see things like her. Oh well, she can be the only dreamer in this castle and she'll still be happy.

“Look out!!!” She heard a kids voice call out. Ann turned around and ducked just in time when an apple flew past her head.

“Ow!” Chatter shouted when he felt the fruit slam against his eye. Ann gave a gasp of concern and ran to her friend.

“You ok?” She helped him sit up. His eyes rolled around like googly eyes, not being able to look at her in the eyes straight.

“Chipper as a sing-song bird!” Chatter chimed happily, giving her a dizzy smile. Ann giggled at the silly sight of her friend. Always so happy, so full of life and never had a dark day in his life. He always wore his best bright red suite and a hat too big for him……… where's his hat?

“Your hat!” Ann patted his empty head. Chatter could only respond with a “huh” and pat his head. He shook his head, finally fixing his spinning eyes, but they were clearly still trying to focus. Ann saw the hat flying away into the woods nearby and looked back at her friend. One pupil was bigger than the other, indicating he still couldn't see well.

“I'll get it for you!” Ann lifted the dress of her skirt and ran off to get the runaway hat. The hat flew into the dark woods and the little doll followed. Her little mind not even thinking twice about what she was running into.

In fact, her little mind didn't even realise she had some eyes following her every move.

[stuck1nthelimbo]

im so normal about them — 📌 post | masterlist | ko-fi

6 》Masturbation - Squirting - Dacryphilia ― Truth or Fuck [Fushiguro Toji x f!reader]

Everyone knows about the 'Truth or Dare' game, right? How about the adult version?

TAGS!!! 2.1k, age gap, toji fucks son's friend (20s), masturbation, squirting, rough-ish, creampie, no beta

With the perfect freezing weather and knee-deep snow, a small group of friends has gathered at Fushiguro’s cottage. We were greeted by the host’s father, Fushiguro Toji. I became smitten with him when I met him months ago and after gathering the courage to admit it to my friends…

“I dare you…” Yuji pretends to come up with a dare, yet I’m aware of what he’s about to say. I roll my eyes and blow lip bubbles. Nobara hides behind him, giggling at my upcoming disgrace, “I dare you to go and kiss Mr. Fushiguro, on the lips,” the audible gasp slips Megumi and he nudges his friend, who’s impatiently squirming. My friend points at the vodka shot, which can negate the dare, however, I’m conflicted: between being unaware of what the diabolical trio has in plan and the fact that I don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“I’ll get back to you,” I flick Yuji’s forehead as I walk by him, trudging to the kitchen. Peeking in, my eyes discover broad shoulders and a muscular back with a skintight black t-shirt. For a moment, I envy his ex-wife, who enjoyed all these and bore his child. Well, let’s focus more on the conception of said child and less on rest. “Um, Mr. Fushiguro?” He turns head while fiddling with something in the fridge, then twists on his feet, squinting at me.

“You kids involvin’ me now?” he blatantly mocks the group, puffing air through the nose.

“They dared me to kiss you,” shuffling on the spot, I mutter, and he scoffs. His head drops to the side, crossing arms over the puffed-out chest. That shirt is holding on its dear life.

“What are you, twelve? You’re older than those punks,” Toji’s peeved, yet leans forward and sticks his cheek out. I shake my head and point at my lips with an index finger. The scoff’s louder now, gives me a peck on the lips, and dismisses me with a hand gesture.

Not enough. So I’ll make sure I end up with another opportunity. The second time doesn’t quench my thirst either. Maybe the third time’s a charm? Now with the gust in my stroll, I prance in the kitchen and heartily grin at the eldest. The sudden aggression alarms me: large palm grabs my face and his lips crash onto mine, tongue slithering into my mouth. This grown-up kiss leaves me breathless.

“The fourth time you’ll wobble out of here,” he’s so fine when his eyes gleam with malice and a sly smirk contorts his face.

I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Now I’m tiptoeing down the stairs for water while fixing an oversized shirt. Caught a glimpse of the clock on my way, it’s around two in the morning. Everybody’s asleep, it’s dead silent until I step foot on the first floor and hear the faint sound of the TV. I waltz into the kitchen, grab a water bottle, and plop on an empty sofa, sipping.

“Hey,” the low disembodied voice startles me, I jump, almost spilling the liquid. Something huge slouches beside me. Now shirtless Fushiguro Toji glances at me. A sculpted chest and abdomen and the gray sweatpants leave so little to the imagination, “Someone dared you to kiss me at midnight? You’re a tad late.”

“Come on, Mr. Fushiguro, give me a break. They dared me, I didn’t have a choice,” I lie through my teeth, averting gaze from him to the TV. He looks back at the screen, his hand tampering with the remote.

“First,” the index finger raises, the rest hold the remote, “You didn’t drink, shots were untouched. And second,” the middle finger flicks up, “stop calling me Mr. Fushiguro, Toji’s fine,” he mutters. The silence lingers between us, the low volume of the movie relieves the awkwardness.

“Hey, wanna play ‘Truth or Dare’?” I break the silence and he glances at me with an embarrassed smile.

“And you’re gonna ask me who’s my crush? Pass, kiddo,” he brushes off the idea without considering.

“Come on,” I straighten between the cushions, my digits tap on his veiny forearm, “truth or dare?” his eyes bounce to my dimly shadowed face, and a sigh of defeat escapes him.

“Truth.”

“Have you ever…” I wander off, sweeping the room with my eyes before they land back on him, “had sex outside the bedroom?” Toji shoots me a dumbfounded look, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. The shock shifts to a flirtatious smirk.

“Oh, you meant with a twist,” his lips pucker, eyes tag along the flickering TV, “alright,” he clears throat, “almost always. I don’t remember the last time I had sex in bed,” chewing on the inside of my cheek, I anticipate the question, “truth or dare?”

“Truth,” half-lidded, verdant eyes stare at me.

“Have you ever hooked up with a man twice your age?” He knows the answer, the stuck-up grin plastered on his scarred lips. I audibly swallow and shake my head. He faintly nods, proud of himself.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Do you prefer slow and romantic sex or rough fucking?” He chortles, air eagerly puffs out of his nose, and his eyes glance at the TV. In a moment, his head turns back to me and drops a bit, staring from under the lashes.

“I prefer to hold down brats and turn them into incoherent, blabbering messes. I like leaving a mark,” his husky voice reverberates in my ears, and my tailbone tingles. He doesn’t take his eyes off of me, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I maintain the eye contact, holding my breath in. He’s pleasantly surprised. His tongue glides across the teeth.

“You should kiss the player in front of you,” he’s so casual, and his eyes trail down to my lips. I lean forward, supporting my weight on open palms pressing down the cushions. Poising face near his, he mumbles, “for thirty seconds,” I barely register the statement before his large hand clasps the back of my head and pulls me in a sloppy kiss. His teeth nibble, fleshy tongues lap, fingers on my nape claw along the hair, steamy breath spills over me and half a minute runs out with the spiderweb-thin threads of saliva spreading between us. Glazed eyes gawk at me, stirred breathing heats my throat, and he skulks toward me, tossing the remote on the floor.

“Truth or dare?” I somehow utter the sentence and hear him click his tongue and mouth the word ‘Dare’ without halting the predatory movement. “Just touc–,” Toji’s low chuckle prickles my skin with goosebumps and I’m unable to finish. His teeth ready to feast on my delicate neck freeze midway, his hand crams between the flimsy underwear and soft pussy, index and middle fingers plunging in my sopping cunt without an ounce of resistance. I mewl at the intrusive sensation and glance at the older male. He’s dead absorbed in the sounds and the texture my gummy walls exude with each knuckle-deep thrust, occasionally the thumb flits across the clit, and I twinge with each brush.

The other hand lurks under the shirt, feeling around before grabbing onto my breast, kneading it with his fingers, possessing the softness of the flesh. Buried digits quicken the pace, the forceful thumb rubs against the bud, drawing few quiet whimpers out of me. The prominent squelchs of my wetness echo. Something pleasant swirls in the depth of my stomach, coils several times and pours downward, between the thighs. His long fingers meticulously slip the soaked underwear to the side, before pulling out and relentlessly sinking back in.

"Wait, Toji," I protest, yet he positions himself between my legs, spreading them further apart; I feel something coming, the unfamiliar sensation and without the proper amount of time, the ecstatic pleasure swallows me, my legs tremble and I gush all over him. Literally. Under the heavy eyelids, I notice how half his body glints, as if splashed with water, "oh, my God," the audible whisper under the heavy breathing snaps his attention. He straightens and I see droplets of transparent liquid on his torso, guiding down the chiseled figure.

"First time squirting?" the cynical tone annoys me, but I'm still under the influence of soft, gentle waves of post-orgasmic bliss and prop myself up, "Clean up," now the tone has changed into demanding, irritating me further. Reaching hand for the paper towels next to the sofa, his palm seizes my wrist, "no, not that," the sharpness makes me tingle again; I push my tongue out, and after his validating smile, I press it flat on his damp chest. The skin feels smooth under my muscle as it glides around the muscular chest, under the collarbone and finishes close the crevice of the neck. I can feel the vibration of his throaty laugh and I pull back, searching for his eyes, before being pinned down on the sofa by a strong hand around my throat.

With one hand, fingers tightly envelope under my jaw, the other yanks his sweatpants down, and even in the dimmed TV light, I make out the silhouette of his fat veiny cock, bouncing out of the boxers. His fingers pull my underwear aside, straining the fabric and harshly grazing his manhood against my drenched pussy. I whine and buck my hips, but he pulls back in time. Brushing the tip of his cock against the swollen clit, he pity smiles the following childish pouts from me. The index and middle fingers press down on his cock, firmly nudging the head of his cock on my sopping cunt until I fling legs around in frustration.

"Truth or dare?" Both of his hands wrap around my thighs, hooking his girth at the entrance of my cunt, teasing. I ignore the question, but the nails digging into my skin bring me back to his expression.

"Uhhh," I reluctantly mutter, "truth," he leans forward, leveling his face with mine, and one of my hands tug on the strands of hair on his nape, closing the distance between us, Toji’s shaky breath seeps under my nostrils. The stillness agitates me, until he bucks his hips, bottoming out inside. My mouth gapes, but before any sound escapes, his palm blankets over my trembling lips, and the pillow under my neck dampens his grunts.

“Everything you wanted?” the ‘truth or dare’ question flies over my head, my brain short-circuited and drunk on the smell of sweat beading on the male’s temples. He hasn’t moved since he bottomed out, forcefully stretching my cunt around his thickness. Each spasm around him runs a shiver up my spine. The pain is buried deep between the ecstasy that radiates from the depths of my stomach. The nails I've dug in his hair nearly break the skin. The other hand weakly pushes against his flat stomach, to which his response is pushing himself inside to the hilt, grinding his groin against my sensitive clit. I swiftly shut my eyes and he, in a painstakingly slow manner, thrusts. Moving back and forth, reminding me with each thrust how enormous he is. He quickly picks up the pace, chipping away at my sanity with each hit. The room's filled with the quiet buzzing of TV and short, sharp grunts his throat echoes, alongside the wet sounds that emit between us.

With each passing second, another round of pleasurable waves swirl in the depth of my stomach. The hand over my mouth tightens as his hips stutter with each forceful thrust. The stuttering turns into hips bucking erratically, teeth grinding, sinking into my flesh, and throaty grunts, soon replaced by barely audible moans, as I feel something fill each nook and cranny of my gummy walls up. The grip on my face loosens while my hips shake following a stomach-churning, body-rippling orgasm.

His weight pulls away, and straightens in his seat: strands of damp hair glue to his forehead and cheeks, mouth hanging, Toji regains his steady breathing. I struggle to close my legs, the strained muscles ache with the smallest movement. The hot, viscous fluid leaks onto the sofa cushions from the apex of my thighs and the elder man groans in frustration, yet does nothing. With difficulties, rises off the sofa, trudging to the kitchen. I reach for the water bottle, almost spilling the contents of it all over my sore, tired body. My pussy stings and I know, this will be hell in the morning. But oh, well. He won this round of ‘Truth or Fu– Dare’.

© stuck1nthelimbo; do not redistribute, repost, modify, or use in any way, form, and/or shape. re-translation by asking for permission first.

[laurenairay]

Lately you've been on my mind - E. Pettersson

I’m jumping in as a pinch-hitter as part of @wyattjohnston’s winter fic exchange, with an Elias Pettersson story for @typical-simplelove! I really hope you enjoy this Claudia– I had a lot of fun creating something from the prompts you gave me, and I was just so inspired that I wrote it all in one day! And thank you Demi, for being a sounding board for me as I put together my ideas.

Summary: Brock Boeser is the ultimate match maker – he knows he is. And he is determined to set his friends up.

a.k.a. you and Elias are both friends with Brock, and keep finding yourselves in moments alone.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: idiots to lovers, self-doubt, Brock is a meddler

Title from: Adore you, by Harry Styles

~

2019 was already shaping up to be a fantastic year. The sun was shining brightly, the January air was crisp and cold, and you had Spanish Banks dog park essentially to yourself, seeing that it was excruciatingly early in the morning.

But damn if the views of the North Shore mountains weren’t worth it. Your dog seemed to agree, with the way he was running up and down the sand. You’d lived in Vancouver all your 20 years so far, still living with your parents where you’d decided not to go to university, and it was moments like this that reminded you just how fortunate you were.

Your peace and quiet lasted for all of another half an hour before you heard enthusiastic barking from behind you. Recalling your dog to your side – which only took a couple of attempts, which was an improvement – you turned your head to see what was coming your way, only to freeze at the guy you saw walking towards you.

A guy that was clearly the up-and-coming star of your family’s favourite sports team, the Vancouver Canucks. Brock Boeser, in the flesh.

“Hey, sorry for interrupting your quiet.”

His smile tightened slightly when he realised you clearly knew who he was, with whatever your face was doing, but you quickly shook your head to reassure him. No, he was here just the same as you, to walk his dog. You could be cool with that.

“It’s a beautiful off-leash park – it would be a shame not to share it,” you shrugged, smiling back at him.

Brock immediately relaxed, easy a tension you didn’t realise you had.

“Who’s this beautiful pup, hm?”

“This is Bailey. I’ve had him, like, three months now? He’s only 18 months old so he’s still learning not to jump up, but he tries his best,” you mused.

“He’s perfect…”

Yes, Brock was definitely a dog person.

“…a border collie, right?”

“Yeah that’s right. He was abandoned a few months ago at a shelter my mom volunteers at, and I barely had to beg her to let me adopt him,” you laughed.

Brock just grinned. “Coola was a rescue dog as well. I adopted him back in February last year, after the All Star Game, but he lived in Minnesota with my parents while I finished my rookie year. I know the feeling of not being able to resist a sweet little dog.”

At least he understood.

With a smile, you motioned for Bailey that he was allowed to run again, and within moments Coola was joining him, the two dogs playing in the surf.

“So, you live here then?”

You and Brock walked your dogs for nearly another hour, the two of you talking like you’d known each other all your lives, before Bailey flopped at your feet, a clear sign he was done and ready to leave.

“Looks like that’s my cue,” you said dryly, making Brock laugh.

“Definitely,” he teased, “but hey, maybe we could exchange numbers? I’d love to walk Coola with you and Bailey again, now that I know they’re friends.”

You hesitated slightly, unsure whether he actually meant that, but the earnestness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Sure, I’d like that. Bailey could use all the friends he could get,” you mused.

Brock just grinned.

“I don’t know, I have a feeling we’re going to be pretty good friends as well.”

~

Nearly five years on and you were (somehow) genuine friends with Brock. He’d been right, against all odds. There was just something about his straightforward friendship that made your life that little bit easier, knowing that you could rely on him to be a breath of fresh air, no drama. And you knew he appreciated your chilled approach to pretty much everything, never judging him, always his biggest supporter – both on the team and for him as a person. Brock Boeser was probably one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you cherished everything about him, like an older brother you didn’t realise you needed.

Brock had always insisted that you needed to be integrated into every part of his life, so you spent more time with his team than you ever thought you would (and hadn’t that been a starstruck moment, when you’d first attended a team gathering). He pretty much brought you to all gatherings, events, and anything to do with Coola (and now Milo), and while at first it had been overwhelming, you’d quickly adjusted when you realised just how ridiculous his teammates were.

So it wasn’t a surprise to Elias Pettersson when he walked into Brock’s house and saw you sitting on the sofa surrounded by dogs.

“Well this looks cosy.”

You grinned at his teasing words, waving him over. “It’s good to see you too, Elias.”

He shared a small private smile with you, lifting Milo’s legs to take a seat on the sofa next to you. The dog in question huffed out his displeasure but didn’t move, allowing Elias to settle in properly.

This guy, more than anyone else, was the teammate you enjoyed spending the most time with alongside Brock. Elias was definitely the most sane of all Brock’s Vancouver friends, and his dry sense of humour always had you in stitches. It was rare that he showed much of himself to anyone, as reserved as he was, but the more you’d gotten to know him over the years, the more you recognised the little signs of his reactions and collated them like hoarded treasure. And the more that Elias had gotten to know you, the more willing he seemed to be to share jokes and smiles and laughter with you, forging a friendship of your own.

And yes, sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive – you’d be crazy or blind to think otherwise - but he’d never shown a hint of interest towards you in that way. And there was no way you’d ever say anything unless you were sure things were reciprocated (there was just no way), so you were more than happy to have him as a friend. Elias Pettersson was an unmistakeable joy in your life, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin that.

He really was so handsome though.

“I’m surprised Brock isn’t buried under puppies like usual,” Elias said.

“We haven’t been long back from walking the dogs, so I said I’d get them settled while he showered and got ready to head out with you,” you explained, running your hand over your Bailey’s head.

“He does need to look pretty enough to leave the house, that’s true,” he mused.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the both of you knowing Brock needed no help in looking pretty, Elias just smiling widely.

It just goes to show how wrapped up you were in Elias’s attention that neither of you noticed Brock standing at the bottom of the stairs, eyes lighting up at your laughter and Elias’s smile.

~

It was early, far too early, but here you were fulfilling Bailey’s every need. You were wrapped up warm, puffer jacket, woollen hat, gloves, and scarf, walking your border collie through Hadden Park, allowing the travel mug of coffee to wake you up fully while you took in the views surrounding you. Bailey was in his element, trotting about and sniffing every single leaf and twig, and it was only your phone buzzing that broke you out of your silent contentment.

From: Brock Hey, are you walking Bailey?

To: Brock Yeah we’re at Hadden Park Wasn’t sure if you would be getting up early after your game last night so I didn’t text

From: Brock Hah yeah fair enough Do you mind if Petey comes along?

You tried not to fantasise about why Elias was so willing to join you both on a dog walk, so early on a day off. You tried so hard.

To: Brock Of course I don’t mind

From: Brock Of course?

You felt heat dancing across your cheeks. Damn it Brock.

To: Brock You know I think Petey is great.

From: Brock Well I definitely do now.

You groaned, already able to picture the smirk on your friend’s face.

To: Brock Don’t be dumb I’ll see you soon

The last thing you needed was Brock teasing you, especially in front of Elias. The last thing you wanted was Elias to feel uncomfortable around you, just because you find him attractive. The last thing you could bear would be if you lost your friendship with Elias just because Brock was reading into things that weren’t true.

But there was nothing you could do for damage control until Brock was in front of you. All you could hope was that he didn’t make you look like an idiot.

It couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes before you saw the familiar pair walking towards you, dogs at Brock’s side, and you found yourself smiling despite your trepidation. You gave them both hugs in greeting, travel mug long empty and placed in your bag, Bailey barking happily.

“What a beautiful morning,” Brock said happily.

“Cold but beautiful, sure,” you mused.

Elias nodded his agreement, thick scarf wrapped in loops around him, Brock just laughing.

“Petey, you don’t mind taking Coola while I walk Milo, do you?” Brock asked.

Elias narrowed his eyes, as if trying to read into Brock’s words, but Brock just kept smiling at him.

“Sure, I can walk Coola,” Elias eventually said.

“Great!”

The moment that Coola’s leash was in Elias’s hands, Coola darted forward, Elias crashing directly into your body. It was only through his quick reflexes that you didn’t end up on your ass, his hands clutching at your hips while you clung to his jacket.

“Coola! Chill!”

Brock’s giggled words did little to calm his dog down, all three dogs dancing around your feet as Elias steadied you. His face was impossibly close to yours, breath practically mingling. How had you not realised how blue his eyes were before this? His lips were parted slightly, as if he was still processing, but it was only when Bailey bumped into both of your legs that he abruptly let you go, and you dropped your hands too.

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted, stepping away sharply.

“No apologies needed. It wasn’t your fault,” you said, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“Aww you can’t blame Coola for being excited,” Brock grinned, kneeling down to give fuss to both his dogs.

There was something in his smile that you just couldn’t put your finger on. Hm.

“Shall we walk then, if they’re so excited?” Elias said dryly.

All three dogs started barking at the word ‘walk’, making you laugh and nod, Brock just grinning even wider.

~

From: Brock Petey is taking the roadtrip losses really hard. Come over tomorrow?

~

You don’t know what it was that possessed you, but the moment you received those texts from Brock, you knew you had to do something. Elias was such a stoic guy, so reserved in his emotions, so the fact that it was obvious enough he was suffering that Brock asked for your help? There was no way you weren’t going to do everything in your power to ease any tensions they had, especially Elias.

There wasn’t much you could do, but you could do this.

When you arrived at Brock’s house the next morning, you were only mildly startled to see Elias opening the door instead of Brock, his eyes flashing in surprise before he smiled.

“Did Brock not say I was coming over?” you said hesitantly.

The last thing you wanted was to intrude.

“He said we were going for brunch, but this is a welcome surprise,” Elias said, smiling softly.

Oh. Now you felt stupid.

Wait, a welcome surprise?

“I don’t know what is making your face do that, but I’m not lying when I say it’s good to see you,” Elias said firmly.

“Alright, I believe you,” you mused.

Elias just grinned, walking over to the bottom of the staircase.

“SHE’S HERE!”

“GOOD! YOU’RE COMING FOR BRUNCH, RIGHT?”

You rolled your eyes fondly at Brock’s assumptions. It wasn’t like you had much else planned for today, but still!

“YEAH I’LL COME!”

Elias laughed at your matching volume, making you smile back at him, a light flush dusting across your cheeks. His laugh was magical and you weren’t going to shame yourself for liking it.

“Brock’s just finishing his hair and then he’ll be down. That’s what he said anyway,” Elias explained, sitting down on the arm of Brock’s sofa.

“He’s got an image to maintain, can’t be looking anything less than perfect,” you teased, the familiar joke making you smile.

Elias just snickered, shaking his head. You leaned up against the back of the sofa, standing close enough to Elias that the blue of his eyes was almost hypnotising, before you remembered why you came over in the first place.

“It feels a little silly now, but I heard from a little bird that you were taking things a little rough, so here’s a little something,” you said.

“Brock needs to keep his mouth shut,” he grumbled.

You just laughed, reaching into your bag to pull out the gift. But as you placed it in his hands, Elias froze.

“What’s this?” Elias said, eyes wide in shock.

You bit your bottom lip, before letting out a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

“You were having a bad day. So I made you a hat,” you said simply, trying to keep your voice light and airy.

“You made me a hat? You knitted this?”

Elias stared down in wonder at the soft light blue woollen bundle in his hand, a look of pure astonishment on his face. It was only then that you realised how close it was to the colour of his eyes.

“Uh, yes, I did? I got back into knitting recently, so it’s nothing fancy, but I just wanted to make something to cheer you up?” you said, trying not to cringe at yourself.

“No-one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his soft words.

“Really?”

“Really really,” Elias nodded.

“I’ve never had a hat made for me either.”

You flinched at the sound of Brock’s voice coming from behind you, Elias immediately scowling over your shoulder.

“Wouldn’t want to cover up your Prince Charming hair,” Elias grumbled, shoving the hat into the pocket of his hoodie.

You didn’t mention the dark blue hat you’d knitted for Brock that was tucked into your bag. Brock pouted as you snickered, slinking into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Look, I know it’s not really my place. And that we’re just friends because of Brock. But these losses were just a bad blip – you’re going to get over them in no time at all, and be back to destroying the other teams like you were born to,”

Elias smiled wryly. “It doesn’t feel like that right now. But thanks.”

You pursed your lips briefly before huffing out a breath. Telling him what you really thought was hardly the most embarrassing thing you’d ever done.

“You make me so proud. You know that, right?”

“What?” Elias frowned.

“You go out there, every single day, and give this team, this city, your all. Your pour yourself into everything that you do, always give 100%, and as your friend, as someone who has known you for years…I am so proud of you.”

As your cheeks heated from your words, Elias swallowed heavily, a flush dusting across his own cheeks.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this, to deserve your kind words, but I appreciate it. Thank you,” he murmured.

Your heartbeat raced at the intensity in his eyes.

“Brunch? Can we go?”

Elias scowled again at Brock’s grinning interruption but walked away towards the front door. You were read to grumble at Brock yourself, until you saw Elias pull the knitted hat out of his pocket and slide it on over his hair. It looked…perfect.

“Are you good?” Brock asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

Your voice was far breathier than you would ever admit.

*

Another month, another team event. This time Brock had invited you to be his plus one to a formal gala, hardly the first time he had asked and yet this time he practically begged you to come along. You didn’t need him to beg, you could admit that much – the events were always fun and hey, you got to dress up nicely – but his behaviour was strange, even for him.

Either way, Brock had looked ecstatic when you said yes, even going as buying you a gorgeous midnight blue evening gown, sleeveless and high-necked, as classy as it was beautiful, so you were going to complain. He could have his secrets – you knew you’d get it out of him eventually.

He picked you up after you’d gotten your hair and nails done, make-up subtle but elegant, wide smile on his face as he drove the two of you to the event. You didn’t have time to be suspicious about his good mood as the two of you greeted his teammates and their better halves, your attention consumed by all the cheek kisses and compliments, but you should’ve known he was up to something. Because the moment that the two of you joined Elias at a table with a few chairs around it, Brock all but disappeared, leaving the two of you completely alone.

“Hi Brock. Bye Brock,” Elias said dryly.

“I have no idea what’s gotten into him tonight, I am so sorry,” you sighed.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise for him. I’m sorry that he’s abandoned you already,” Elias said, frowning.

“Well at least I’m near a chair,” you said, huffing out a laugh, “High heels are not my friends.”

Elias immediately pulled a chair out for you to sit on, and you felt a gentle heat brush across your cheeks at the gentlemanly action.

“Thanks Elias,” you said, more shocked than anything.

Not too shocked to smile at him as he sat down right next to you, after picking up a couple of flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. If he wanted to join you…well, you weren’t going to complain. Not if you got his attention all to yourself.

It can’t have been more than an hour before Brock wandered back over, but by the flush on his cheeks and the glassiness of his eyes, he was more than a little tipsy. Damn it Brock.

“You’re not going to ask this beautiful woman to dance, Petey?”

Elias immediately blushed furiously, eyes narrowing at his friend, making you want to die a little inside – but also to shield him.

“Oh no, these heels are killing my feet already. Elias is just being kind enough to keep me company,” you said sweetly.

Brock snickered, shaking his head, but walked away without any further pestering. You both sat there for a moment in silence, reeling from the short conversation. What the hell was that, Brock?

“You didn’t have to make up a lie to defend me,” Elias said, finally looking at you again.

“I wanted to.”

The mortification that filled your body upon your blurted words was immediate and all-consuming, especially with how surprised Elias looked. How could you save this? How the hell could you save this?

“Besides it’s the least I could do for Brock dumping me on you in the first place,” you said coolly, shrugging, trying to calm yourself down and failing miserably.

Elias hesitated before something flashed across his face, and he looked at you with an expression you’d never seen from him before. It made you shiver. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Oh.

Oh.

He…really?

You’d spent so long convinced that he didn’t see you that way, that he wasn’t attracted to you in the slightest, and now that he’d said this? Giving you enough to let yourself hope, to admit to yourself that your sweetest daydreams and deepest fantasies could actually be reality?

While your mind raced, full of swirling realisations that perhaps things weren’t so unrequited after all, Elias just watched you, expression just as intense as before. It wasn’t until you let out a shaky breath, smiling a tiny smile at him, that he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Another drink?”

“Yes, definitely.”

*

Movie nights were sacred. It didn’t matter who they were with, not really, but now that you had your own tiny apartment, a night in watching your favourite movies and eating your favourite snacks was always the best way to unwind. Usually Brock was your only companion, or Brock with a few of his teammates, and that was the plan tonight. Brock and Elias were both joining you for a movie night and you couldn’t wait to have a chilled night in with two of your favourite people. Even if your whole world had been shaken up only last week at that eventful team gala.

The pizzas you’d ordered hadn’t long arrived before Elias arrived at your door, beers in hand, and you let him in with a happy smile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, smiling shyly back at you.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sweetness in his face, and you found yourself just nodding.

“You know you’re always welcome. Come on, pizza just got here too.”

Elias all but raced you to the kitchen, making you laugh as he opened the cardboard lids. But your phone buzzed before you could reach for a slice.

From: Brock I can’t make it tonight. Have fun. Both of you.

You heart started racing at his implications, knowing deep in your bones that Brock never intended to come this evening. Had he known all along, how you felt about Elias? And how you hoped Elias felt for you too?

Surely not.

But then again, Brock always surprised you. You had always tried not to underestimate your friend, but it appeared that you’d fallen for that sweet innocent smile just the same as everyone else.

“Is Brock on his way?”

“Brock isn’t coming.”

“Oh.”

Elias seemed to hesitate, making you inhale sharply.

“Did you want to reschedule?” he asked, wincing.

You could be brave, right? Or at least take a step towards bravery?

“You’re already here…so we can still have our own movie night?” you suggested, unable to stop yourself from chewing your bottom lip.

Elias’s eyes flickered down quickly towards your mouth, before he cleared his throat and smiled softly at you. “Yeah, of course we can. Also means we don’t have to listen to Brock whining that we aren’t watching one of his rom com choices.”

The dryness of his tone made you giggle, immediately cutting through the lingering awkward tension. You could absolutely do a movie night just with Elias. You could absolutely handle being alone with him like this.

Absolutely.

The two of you ploughed through the pizzas while you watched one of you go-to action movies, laughing and talking all the way through, even finishing the popcorn and a couple of beers each by the time the credits were rolling. Bailey had happily sat by your feet the whole time, actually behaving himself for once, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d felt so content. So relaxed and happy. Brock had always brought that out in you, and now that Elias had too? It just filled you with butterflies in the best way.

“Shall we watch another?”

“Definitely,” you nodded, smiling up at him.

Elias smiled easily back. “You choose? I’ll clear up.”

Before you could protest or even help him, Elias had picked up both pizza boxes and all the empty beer bottles, leaving you alone on the sofa. You heard him opening the trash can, snapping you out of your surprise, so you started scrolling through Netflix again, eventually deciding on a light-hearted comedy just as Elias re-entered the room. Bailey had trotted out to his own bed when Elias left, so it really was just the two of you now.

Something that made your breath hitch in your throat was the way that Elias sat down closer to you this time. Unmistakably closer, close enough to feel the heat from his body and to smell his cologne. He did that on purpose, there was no doubt about it. But his face gave you no answers, nothing more than his usual smile around you, so you let it go. Overthinking things was definitely not the way to go, you knew that much.

It didn’t make your heartrate calm down at all though.

You pressed play to get the movie started, lightly tossing the tv remote onto your coffee table before settling back into the sofa, letting the familiar introduction wash over you.

It took ten minutes for everything to change.

Elias wasn’t a big hugger. You knew this. Brock knew this. The whole of the Vancouver Canucks knew this. So when you felt a pressure along your shoulders, you tried not to flinch, realising it was his arm stretching across the back of the sofa when his hand lightly brushed your opposite shoulder. Elias…Elias had put his arm around you. He’d put his arm around you? You glanced up at him, trying to get any sense of his thought process, but his eyes were resolutely glued to the television, his body a frozen line of tension. All over again, your heart started racing. You were right after all. Maybe…maybe Elias really did have feelings for you, just as he’d finally hinted at the team event, and now he was making a gentle move in the most Petey way ever.

The ball was in your court.

Ever so slowly, you relaxed against under his arm, sinking into his side, head resting on his chest. You could hear just how fast his own heart was racing and it made you smile, feeling giddy that he was just as affected as you were, even more so when his arm draped around you properly. This was really happening. Elias Pettersson had really instigated snuggling with you on the sofa. This was better than any dream you could’ve imagined.

The next thing you knew, you were blinking your eyes open. The sky outside was pitch black, the curtains still wide open, and the Netflix landing page was glaring bright. But the main thing you noticed? You were curled up against Elias’s side still, head resting on his chest, his arm having fallen down to your waist and his head lolling back on the sofa. You’d fallen asleep together? Was there anything more cliché than that? Still, it felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest with how right it felt to be in Elias’s hold. His hands were so large and so warm, the heat spreading through the contact on top of your sweatpants. His chest was so solid and calming under your cheek. And as you lifted your head, ever to slightly to look at him properly, even just through the light from the TV he looked so handsome. Beautiful and peaceful. But there was no way that could be comfortable for him, and the last thing you wanted was for an aching neck to put a damper on what was the perfect evening.

So you lightly rested your hand on his chest, shaking him gently until you heard him grunt in displeasure.

“Hey, Elias, we fell asleep on the sofa,” you murmured.

He immediately groaned, making you laugh softly, smiling at him as he finally lifted his head.

“I was having such a good dream,” he grumbled.

Then he seemed to freeze as he realised where he actually was, taking note of how you were still tucked into his side, and where his arm and hand were holding you.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, no, we both fell asleep eh?” you said, interrupting with a smile and a shake of your head, “It’s fine, Elias. We were both cosy.”

He swallowed heavily before nodding.

“I don’t think I’ve ever fallen asleep on the sofa with someone before,” he mumbled, “It was…nice.”

You felt your cheeks heating up with the gentle compliment, your smile letting him know you felt the same.

“I should go,” he said softly.

No!

Well, now was your moment. Now was the time to be brave where you’d never needed to be so brave before. After everything that had been building between the two of you…now was the moment.

“Or, maybe you could stay, and we could talk in the morning,” you offered as calmly as you could.

You felt Elias inhale sharply where your hand was still resting on his chest.

“The kind of talk that I’ve been wanting to have for a while?” he asked, hope evident in his eyes.

Oh wow.

For a while?

You felt like you were floating as his words sunk in.

“Yeah I think we’re on the same page,” you murmured, your blood thrumming with possibility.

The smile that spread across Elias’s face made your heart soar, and you found yourself smiling just as widely back. And when he leant forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead, you’d never felt more alive.

You could only imagine Brock’s satisfied grin when you told him.

[catladyoftheyr]

Too Sweet Ch. 4

Ch: (1) (2) (3) (5)

Harvey x Gn reader

Summary: you stumble upon Harvey leaving Caroline’s dance aerobics class and startle him. He accidentally drops his dumbbells on your foot and has to patch you up <3

Word count: 1.6

A/n: vhs because in my heart stardew is set in the 90s. Also he can lift you because his dance aerobics class is WORKING OKAY lmaooo I just thought it was cute 🥰

You woke up groggy, regretting the decision to pack light when you moved to the Valley. You missed your coffee maker. You desperately wanted to roll over, to pull the sheets back over your head and sleep for just 5 more minutes. But you knew yourself well enough that 5 minutes would turn into 20. You had animals to feed and crops to tend to. You dragged yourself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before sliding your feet into your work shoes. Getting dressed could wait, you decided.

The summer air was muggy and you knew that sooner rather than later your clothes would start to stick and your hair would start to frizz. You let the animals out to graze and deftly avoided stepping on any chickens while you made your way over to the new barn you'd commissioned from Robin. A small calf poked her head out of the barn door and mooed. “Good morning to you too, Daisy.” You gave her a gentle pet on the head and she nuzzled back affectionately.

The barn and the calf had drained the last of your money. You’d have to sell directly to Pierre today if you wanted cash to buy any more seeds. You dressed for the day and headed back outside to assess what you could sell. You’d managed to craft some rudimentary sprinklers after finding a book full of blueprints your grandfather had left behind. It saved watering time, but you still had to harvest everything manually. You arranged a large basket full of everything you could part with before heading into town.

The bell on the door rang as you walked into the general store. Pierre greeted you as you set the large basket on the counter. “You’re selling today?”

“I need more seeds and tomorrow’s Wednesday.” It wasn’t technically a lie. You just omitted the fact that you were flat broke as well.

“Well I’m happy to help out. It’ll be great to have some fresh from the farm produce to offer.” Pierre took his time examining the goods you’d brought, carefully placing each item on the counter and punching numbers into his calculator. You made idle chit chat as the women from Caroline’s dance aerobics class began to file out into the store. You told Marnie that the calf was settling in just fine, thanked Robin again for her hard work on your barn. Emily told you what she was getting Gus for his birthday and overheard Jodi ask Caroline what she should make for dinner. You heard Pierre announce your total and you exchanged most of your meager earnings for seeds, pocketing the rest. You were turning to leave when you saw one more person enter the store from the house. Was that…. Harvey?

You rubbed your eyes thinking you might have made a mistake, but this town was small and that was definitely the local doctor standing there. He held a pair of small dumbbells, and you noticed sweatbands on his wrists and forehead. He wore a pair of small shorts and a t-shirt boasting what you assumed was his alma mater. You walked over to say hello and tapped him playfully on the shoulder. Harvey spun around, seemingly frightened by the unexpected touch. He dropped the dumbbells in surprise and you felt them land directly on your foot. You swore and jumped back, hopping on your good foot.

“I’m so sorry!” You both shouted in unison, apologizing to the other for different things. “I didn’t mean to startle you-“

“Your foot!”

“I think it’s okay really. I should head home.”

“You should let me examine it. The clinic is next door.” Harvey’s face displayed genuine concern, and you were secretly worried that your foot was broken. You relented, hoping the injury wasn’t going to impact your farm work. You turned around to head outside and winced as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot. You inhaled sharply and tried to find a way to walk. Harvey took notice of your efforts and wrapped one arm around your waist while draping one of yours across his shoulders. “Let me help you.”

You’d never been this close. You felt your face flush and hoped he wouldn’t notice. The act of chivalry seemed to come so naturally to him. You made your way to the clinic slowly, relishing the feeling of his arm on your waist. Harvey helped you through the doors of the clinic, allowing you to sit down on a bench in his waiting room. “Thank you” you whispered as you adjusted your positioning.

“It’s the least I could do. I can’t apologize enough for what happened. Now let’s take a look.” Harvey was especially gentle as he knelt in front of you; He unlaced your shoes, sliding off the sock of the injured foot. He pursed his lips as he examined you.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I just wasn’t expecting to see you today; at least not in Caroline’s group.”

“You need to stop apologizing.” Harvey fell silent for a moment, contemplating his next words. “I joined as a way to try and stay active. I’m not as young as I once was; it’s getting harder to stay In shape.” His face had a hint of flush to it as he spoke. You wouldn’t dream of saying it, but you found it incredibly endearing. You also couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. Harvey typically wore slacks and blazers. You trailed your vision down the lines of his arms and imagined running your fingers over the veins. His legs had a considerable amount of hair and you traced it as it disappeared under the hem of his shorts. His physique reminded you of someone’s dad, you could picture him wearing socks and sandals and denim shorts while he stood behind a grill.

“I think it’s nice that you’re making the decision to do what’s healthy. And all the women in that group are really nice. Caroline gives me some tea leaves from the bushes in her sunroom. You picked good friends.”

“Thank you. Can you promise me you won’t tell anyone else, though? Word spreads fast in small towns. I’m not ready for everyone to know about this.” His face flushed deeper, a clear shade of red now.

“I promise.” You extended your arm toward him and stuck out the pinky on your hand. “I pinky swear it.” Harvey chuckled and smiled at you before hooking his own pinky in yours and shaking hands.

Turning his focus back to your door he frowned as he felt around it gently. Even the soft touches hurt and you hissed quietly when he hit an especially sore spot. He prompted you through rotations and flexes before rising to his feet. “The good news is it’s not broken. But it’s bruised pretty badly. The swelling should go down significantly in a couple hours and you should be able to work on it tomorrow. But you need to stay off it for the rest of the day if you want it to heal. I’ll wrap it for you in a second, but you should probably ice and elevate it as well.”

The doctor disappeared behind the doors and you heard the sounds of drawers and cupboards opening and closing. You sighed and shook your head while you tried to stop the montage of scenes from today from replaying in your mind. Images of Harvey in athletic shorts, his smile as he linked pinkies, how his hands felt on you, and the look on his face when he saw you in Pierre’s swirled around your brain. Your daydreams were interrupted when Harvey emerged holding materials to wrap your foot. He worked deftly, the years of experience showing as he wrapped the fabric around you in record time. He let out a small sigh as he finished.

“You’re all set. However as your doctor I am strongly recommending that you don’t try to walk home on that foot yet. You could delay your recovery and risk further damage. Now as your friend, I’m proposing that you can come upstairs and watch a movie to stay off your feet.”

“I don’t think I can climb the stairs…”

“Leave it to me” Harvey leaned forward and swept you into his arms in one smooth motion, holding you bridal style. You gasped as your legs dangled in the air and giggled as he began to ascend the stairs carrying you. You leaned in closer, seizing the opportunity to press yourself against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he finagled the door to his apartment open. You breathed in deeply through your nose, trying to hold onto his scent before he set you down on his couch. He pulled his coffee table closer to the couch to allow you to rest and elevate your foot.

The doctor strode to a shelf near the tv that held an extensive collection of VHS tapes. He hummed as he browsed through the titles before selecting one. He popped the tape into the VCR. He settled onto the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the fabric of his t-shirt against your arm. The movie was in black and white, definitely a classic. “I put in The Zuzu City Express. It’s one of my favorites” Harvey explained almost sheepishly. You hadn’t picked him as a film buff.

You tried to focus on the film, but the truth is you were exhausted from the stressful day. Harvey’s arm was draped across the back of the couch. You let your head fall onto his shoulder. He made no effort to move you, no indication that the action was unwanted. You relaxed and a yawn escaped. Your eyelids grew heavier as you tried harder to pay attention to the movie. Harvey’s arm moved to rest across the back of your neck, his hand falling on your shoulder as you drifted off.

[mydearesthrry]

A Compilation of Y/nrry on Stage - h.s.

a/n: self indulgent, once again. been watching a couple of old 1d concert vids lately and this just came to me like i think i wrote all of this in about 20 mins? enjoyyyyyyy

🎀 warnings/cw: nothing, fluff, cursing?

🐇 pairing: 1dbandmember!yreader x fratboyera!harry

💐 wc: 1.2k

summary: 3 moments during the take me home tour where ynrry shined through on stage.

Y/N could sense mischief from a mile away. From the second the fans screamed to looking over at where they were pointing, she knew she was fucked. Clad in a light pink shirt and crop top that only showed an inch about her torso, she tried to run away from Louis but the stilettos on her feet gave her no opportunity to. 

“Louis! Louis stop, don’t!” Her pleading seemingly wasn’t enough because, within a blink of an eye, she was drenched in cold water. The two of them immediately knew what this meant. 

It meant war. And she was determined to get all of her bandmates on her side to defeat Louis. 

At first, she tried running after him, but when she realized it was no use since he was so fast and she was in heels, she called Harry over and immediately told him to turn around and crouch to help her. Harry, who had seen the entire interaction, was immediately down and got down without question. She hopped up on his back, motioning at Zayn for him to throw her a water bottle, Harry immediately started running toward Harry. 

As he ran, her in-ear monitors made her remember that she was to sing soon, and she raised her mic to her lips, singing softly. “And if we get together, yeah get together, don’t let the pictures leave your phone! Do you guys think I can beat Louis?” She screamed, following her lyrics, giggling at the loud cheers from the crowd. Harry continued running, and Y/N looked down to see that Niall and Liam were running with them, water bottles in their hands as well. 

Louis glanced over his shoulder and saw them running after him, pulling a face and running away faster. Unfortunately, he was too slow, and they all eventually caught up to him. Zayn too, who was right behind him and making sure he didn’t run away. Liam and Niall caught Louis by his arms, holding him still so their best friend could get her revenge. Harry stalked over to them and set her down, Y/N still singing as she had Harry crack open her bottles. Giggles instead of melodies filled the stadium speakers as she poured the water over his head. The rest of the boys handed her their water, and she continued to pour water on Louis. 

“Paybacks a bitch, Tommo.” She grinned, grabbing him by the back of his neck and into a hug, pushing him away when their cue came in to start doing the rowing dance move. They all stood in a staggered line, laughing loudly while they danced. 

Everyone else flared away, but Harry stayed. He bent down, mouth close to her ear as he popped out her in-ear, and very softly, whispered, “Good job on your victory, Princess.”

—

The band sat in their respective spots, the soft guitar for Summer Love filtering through the air. In front of Harry, a little off to the side was Y/N, who had the brightest gleam in her eyes, admiring the crowd. It was during songs like these that she allowed herself to bask in the feeling of fame, one that often consumed and overwhelmed her. She giggled when she waved at a few fans and they started screaming and crying in response to her. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Harry had seen that, and smiled wider when she saw he already had a grin on his face. 

Raising the mic to his lips, he followed Zayn’s lyrics, and since Y/N was already looking over at him, she twisted on her bottom, being careful of her skirt. Her eyes traced all of Harry’s features, them being nearly enhanced due to the bright spotlights on him. Finishing his part of the first verse, his eyes flicked back to her, nose scrunching cutely. She blew a playful kiss back, laughing when his cheeks became overtaken by a pinkish hue. Jumping down from her spot, she walked over to the back of the stage to retrieve her phone, before jogging back to her spot, confusing Harry when she passed it and instead beelined for him. 

Plopping down next to him, she swiped on her phone until she got to the camera app, holding it up to be level with their faces. They pulled a couple of funny faces before she tossed her phone over to Liam and Niall to the right of her, who grabbed it with ease. They started snapping pictures too, Liam turning to face his back to the crowd, taking a selfie with them too. The mic was on her lips, and they motioned her to catch it, but she shook her head no. 

They tossed the phone back to her anyway, but she missed the catch and clenched her eyes shut, only for them to snap open again when she felt two taps on her thighs. Opening her eyes, she saw Harry grinning at her with a shit-eating grin, holding her phone in his hand. 

She rolled her eyes, grabbing it from him and unlocking it again. She pulled up her camera roll app, looking at the pictures of her and Harry. She smiled and set one of the funnier ones as her home screen background. She turned her phone to Harry, and he grinned at her, trying to subtly move his arm behind her back to rub it. Turning to him, she held up a hand to block the crowd from seeing what she was whispering into his ear. 

The crowd screamed when they saw this, but they would never know that the words she whispered into his ear were ‘I love you’.

—

 As Niall talked to the crowd, Y/N and Harry pulled their in-ears out of their ears to talk to each other, something that was extremely common at their concerts. 

“What d’you wanna order from the hotel when we get back? ‘M starving and I miss you. I feel like I’ve not seen you all day.” Harry said— shouted, knowing she could barely hear over the volume of the crowd. She turned around, shrugging her shoulders. Harry rolled his eyes, and she tiptoed, the heels on her feet not being enough to be able to reach his ears. 

“I‘ve been craving pizza since this morning, maybe that if they have it. We can cuddle when we get back to the hotel, but you have to shower, you’re all sweaty. As for the pizza,” She questioned in his ear. “I’m not sure what toppings yet, but maybe we can agree on some?” 

He nodded, giving a thumbs up, “Wanna join me in the shower?” She looked at him with an annoyed expression, but he had a boyish grin on his face.”‘M putting olives on the pizza.” 

“Oh, absolutely not, are you serious? Harry, that’s disgusting.” She pulled a face of disgust, putting her hand on his face to push him away. He had the biggest look of offense on his face, and she giggled. He didn’t get far from her push, only about 1 foot away. She laughed when she heard him scream ‘Say sorry!’, and she shook her head no. 

“You know I hate olives! I’m picking all of them off and giving them to you.” She grinned back, and he rolled his eyes again, but with the look he gave her, it was obvious that he would do anything for her.

[writingoddess1125]

Blowin' Me Up Pt. 2

Kurt Wagner and Azazel Fanfic 

Mild Kurt Wagner and Reader 

Takes place in the 80′s after Apocalypses. I took a lot of creative libraries with this so just know this isn't accurate to anything! Gender N! Reader 

Also don't own X-Men obviously.  (i fucking wish..)  

This one was in the drafts for like- 2 years? Might as well post it!

Previous <<

Marvel Masterlist <<

Kofi

When Azazel came back to, He was laid on the dirty stairs were a bouncer and Angel surrounded him- His head laid on the metal steps as the world seemed too much all at once, a unfamiliar feeling hitting his chest and making his head spin.

"Alright up you go" He heard the bouncer say, the younger man grabbing his arm as gently as possible to help him back to his feet. Swaying a but which lead to Angel grabbing him as well.

It was humiliating for a World Class Agent to be assisted by some random bouncer and a women half his size to a proper chair-

However Zaz was in truth too out of it to even let that humiliation settle on him, his mind woozy and like he had just been hit by a car. Which he defiently had before...

"Does he have any medical conditions? Do we need to call an ambulance" The concerned mutant bouncer asked Angel, who was trying to smooth over the situation and try not to draw as much attention to them- risking their mission.

"No No its fine- This was so out of the blue for him-"

Azazel felt his brain suddently connect the dots at Angel's words.. Staring at her like she had sprouted a second head and feathers from her ass.

Blue..

Blue...

That boy.. he looked to be around early 20s maybe late teens, just old enough to get unto this club..

Blue

The 60s..

Mystique..

"Эта синяя сука!!"

(That Blue Bitch!)

Azazel screamed out suddently making everyone near him jump in surpsie at his sudden rage, The red man rising from his seat like it had been lit on fire. His face twisted like a thunder storm as he marched past Angel and the bouncer.

"Zaz! Zaz what the hell is wrong wit-"

"Завершите миссию самостоятельно. У меня внезапное дело"

(Finish the Mission yourself. I have sudden Business)

He said in a hurry, knowing Angel had been around him long enough to catch what most he said anyway.

"Of what!?"

"Видимо, похитил собственного ребенка!!"

(Kidnapping my own child apparently!"

The women throwing her hands up dramatically as she watched him flee from the top steps and BAMF away as fast as possible.

"Fuck-"

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

Kurt was leaned against (Y/N)- the two of them on the rooftop of the club cuddled against one another. The alcohol adding a boost of confidence he didn't know he had.

"It's so beautiful here"

"Zis is nice, ja?" he said with a lazy grin, his accent heavier then normal.

(Y/N) nodding at this as they leaned against him more. Kurts tail lazily swaying as he glanced over the street below. His yellow eyes caught sight of a food cart, and he nudged (Y/N) with a grin.

"Look," he said, gesturing toward it. "Vanna grab something?"

(Y/N) laughed of course at Kurts eyes practically pleading, their own stomach growling in agreement. "Yeah, let's get something. Alcohol and an empty stomach never mix well"

With a quick teleport down, the two made there way to the cart. The smell of fried food filled the air, and buzzed duo stood there, practically drooling as the vendor started their order- which the two seemed not to even know what the food was.

(Y/N) fishing in their pockets for money. The sound of faint music from the club mixed with the chatter of the city, creating a lively but relaxing atmosphere for the two students.

That was until a group of clearly drunk humans stumbled into view. They noticed Kurt first. Their steps slowed, eyes narrowing as they took at the mutant.

"Hey," one of them slurred, stumbling closer. "What's with the Halloween costume?"

Another laughed, nudging his friend. "No, that's not a costume. That’s one of those mutant freaks."

The tension in the air shift immediately. Kurt glanced at (Y/N), his expression sober and serious now. He gave a slight nod, signaling that it was time to leave.

"Let me pay real quick-"

They muttered softly, getting out a 20$ to pay for the food that was prepared but not eated. Without a word, both turned to walk away, hoping to avoid any further confrontation.

But the group wasn’t done.

"Where do you think you're going?" one of them called, voice dripping with malice. "Too good to talk to us, freaks?"

"Let’s just go," (Y/N) whispered to Kurt, but the humans were already moving toward the two, blocking the path.

Before the duo could react, one of them shoved Kurt hard. He stumbled back, his tail flicking out instinctively—and in the process, it caught one of the humans on the arm, leaving a thin but noticeable cut.

The injured man cursed loudly. "You freak!" he snarled, reaching down to grab an empty bottle from the ground. With a rage-fueled throw, the bottle sailed through the air and struck Kurt squarely on the head with a sharp crack.

“Kurt!” (Y/N) cried out, rushing toward him as he staggered, clutching his head in pain.

But before (Y/N) could reach him, there was a familiar BAMF. The air around Kurt swirled with the smell of sulfur, and a puff of smoke enveloped him, just as his hand reached out to grab his other half. In an instant, the two vanished, leaving the humans stunned and coughing in the dissipating red cloud.

Just as fast as the BAMF happened it felt like a record skip- before loud music developed the area. (Y/N) was now standing back at the club-

But Kurt nowhere in sight.

"Kurt?.."

Tag List-

@bloodyshadow737 @4c1dtr1p

[bun-z-bakery]

what if dogday got into baking? , maybe you could try writing about him learning to baking stuff?

✧. ┊𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝛢𝑤𝑎𝑦

A/N: This was such a cute ask! I hope you enjoy! This ones short but still sweet!^^

Making sure Dogday was out of the kitchen was your top priority during mealtimes. 

You know he means well, but you didn't want to run the risk of him breaking more plates or setting anything on fire… again. 

You sat outside on the grass, enjoying the fresh air and nice breeze on your skin. 

Dogday decided to sleep in, Poppy and Kissy wandered around looking for flowers which meant you had some much needed alone time. 

The sound of pots crashing made you jump to your feet. Quickly you rushed inside and called out for Dogday. 

“I-In here.”

You rush to the kitchen, stopping at the doorway as you take in the mess. 

“Angel, before you get mad-”

You couldn't help but laugh. 

Dogday stares at you with a confused expression and tilts his head. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn't be mad when he's covered in flour and holding a tiny whisk in his giant hand. 

“Anddd what have you been up to?”

You snort as you get closer and dust some flour off of his nose. 

“Angel I'm sorry, I'll help you clean up…”

He sighs in defeat. 

You noticed he was standing oddly and quickly tickled his sides, making him squirm in the process. 

“Dogday what's this?”

You hold up the baking book you never remembered buying. 

It was slightly sticky from the batter but the pages were still very noticeably new. 

“it gets boring here… And wanted to learn something that might lessen some of your responsibilities…”

He looks like a puppy that's being reprimanded. You couldn't help but chuckle. 

Adorable. 

You thought to yourself. 

“Dogday I'm not mad I'm happy you're trying something new! A $20 book on the other hand-”

“$20?!”

“Tell you what,”

You skim through the pages while he curiously hovers over you. You slam your finger down on the page that had the most delicious looking cake in the photo reference. 

“Make this and if it tastes good then I'll let you off the hook!”

Your proposition seemed to have made him perk up. 

He grabs onto his tail to avoid any more damage to the kitchen. 

“Alright deal! Let me work my magic.”

He points the comically tiny whisk at you and you raise your hands in defeat. 

“Alright alright, I'll be on standby.”

You joke as you leave him to his experiment. 

Throughout his time in the kitchen, the sound of pots and spoons falling and the smell of something burning made you question if letting him bake would lead to a house fire. 

“Sunshine, how's it go-”

You look around the kitchen, your mouth agape. 

“You act like I don't clean up after myself.”

He shakes his head in disbelief with the little faith you had in him. 

The kitchen was almost spotless, impressive was an understatement.

He motions towards the cake he had made and calls out to the others for a taste. 

“Wow it smells great Dogday!”

Poppy exclaims as soon as she and Kissy walk in. 

“It does smell pretty promising!”

You agree before taking a seat at the table. 

Once everyone is served and seated, you begin to inspect the cake. It seemed well made and you were eager to taste it now. 

“Alright on the count of 3!”

You say as you four hold a piece of cake near your mouths. 

“3,2,1!”

“...”

“It's… good?”

Your words instantly shift his mood. 

His tail begins to wag as he continues to eat his slice. 

“Does this mean I can help out in the kitchen?!”

Dogday’s eyes light up. Seeing him heartbroken after such an accomplishment would crush you. 

“Fine, if you can keep the mess to a minimum.”

“Deal!”

A/N: I got my PC back!! this is my first post using my pc and wow is it 10 times easier than on my phone. I've been a bit busy recently but keep sending in requests! I'm still working on a few projects and will post them hopefully soon! If you read this far dont forget to reblog and like <3

[ciitroner]

What does the princess treatment from the boys look like cause this 9-5 is killing me.

Back hurts, shoulders hurt, feet hurt - If it's a better deal I'll take the kidnapped by two hot men for 200.

🥲

wc: 933 warnings: fluff, you get a massage after a hard day of work :), cute ending(?)

Don't really expect anything nice unless you've "deserved it", at least that's the mentality you'll find in Simon. It's Johnny who falls first, "love at first grind" he claims, grins and humps the air behind you like an airheaded fratboy. You recall the day you met him at the bar, cringe at yourself, and wish you'd kept to your sad little house for the night. Simon doesn't understand what Johnny obsesses over, but he still lets him keep you.

He finds you a bit hot when you're angry and screaming at him, pushing you even further by not responding - only tilting his head a bit. He bets you'd even try to punch him if you weren't bound to the headboard, the dumb little thing you are. Could break your arm so easily, he bets. He finds you slightly cuter when you're clinging to him, though, sleepy and tired after a long night. So what.

Over time, he gets more and more infatuated with you - but he refuses to admit that it's love. Simon Ghost Riley doesn't love. Yet, when he sees you in the kitchen - slightly teary eyed from the harsh affectionate ass-slap you got from Johnny when you asked where the baking powder was for the cake you're practically forced to bake, he gnaws slightly on his lower lip. Johnny showed you the cupboard where the newly bought baking powder was being kept and gave you a kiss before walking away to tend to some other important matter. They don't trust you being alone yet, especially in the kitchen, so Simon had to watch over you.

You whisk the batter, trying to imagine you're anywhere but here. He's scary. Basically acting like a second shadow, following each of your movements with his cold eyes. You scoop up some of the batter from the side of the bowl with your finger and turn around towards him, raising your finger, "want a taste, S-Simon?", you mentally curse yourself over the stutter. Forced to use their real names lately, you're not used to it - you hate how out of control you feel.

"No."

He turns around and walks off to the window, not daring to leave you alone for his quick smoke break. His eyes bore into yours as you shrug and pop it in your own mouth, trying to hide the humiliation from the asshole rejection. You put the batter in the cake pan before finally opening the oven and putting it in. Your body aches, and you lean against the kitchen counter with a sigh, rubbing and half-heartedly massaging your own shoulder. They'd told you to clean the house when you had screamed last night about how disgusting and dusty everything is, and how much you hate them. Johnny had just played it off as you needing a good dicking down, and Simon had just rolled his eyes.

"How long?" His voice suddenly speaks up, beside you. You jump in fright and notice that - for a big guy, he sure is quiet as a mouse. "about 20 more minutes..." you stare up at him, silently trying to figure out why he's so interested. He hums, and ushers you to the sofa, sighing in relief when dust particles don't fly up anywhere when you both sit down. "Did a good job today. Lay down."

You lay down on your back, and half-expect him to pull a Johnny and pounce on you.

"Your stomach, love, c'mon." He turns you around, and you oblige. He shocks you when he pulls your shirt up and unclasps your bra. Simon stands over you for a few seconds, before he scoots you into the back cushions and sits on the small empty space beside your butt. You close your eyes, burrowing your head in your arms, crossed under your face. It starts with slow strokes of his calloused and rough fingers down your back, until they settle at your lower back. Two thumbs on either side of your soft back massage your muscles with precise movements. He slowly moves upwards, taking his time to shift between massaging and stroking, sometimes even brushing his fingers through your scalp. He stops to knead a sore spot under your shoulder blades when you let out a slightly pained gasp and open your eyes in shock.

You both ignore the twitch in his pants.

He focuses on that specific muscle for a while, kneading it to dough, before moving on.

-----

You yawn, open your eyes, and notice the evening glow from the sun through the window in the living room. You'd fallen asleep and forgot-

"The cake!" You try to move up from the sofa, but a tug on your foot stops you, "easy, crazy." Johnny laughs, "Simon took care of it." You notice a blanket draped over you, only exposing your knees and down, he's massaging your feet and calves, as they're laid over his thighs, "Lay back, he told me not to stop unless ye cried for me to." His eyes shift to the TV, while he continues his ministrations. You push your head onto the pillow under your head again, probably put there after you'd fallen asleep.

You sigh, the tiredness and stress from the past few weeks weighing down on your eyelids, and you comfortably drowse off before you can hear the "g'night, princess." that leaves Simon's mouth when he strokes the back of his hand over your cheek.

His slight trance is interrupted by the man beside you, "ye burnt yerself?"

Simon scoffs slightly and crosses his arms, "forgot to use those pink fuckin' oven mitts you bought."