#if you get out if this with only a broken arm you'll be lucky-

[lexumpysfunland]

I want to chloroform your stanley and see Walter react to Him passing out suddenly… or you could just make him faint or sumthin idk

he won't even let you get close to Stanley with that idea in mind... anything for Stanley's safety~

[wishful-seeker]

Tips on how to avoid being unintentionally ableist

1. When a disabled person says they cannot do something, and you wish to offer solutions, do not make a solution that involves them powering through pain, or something thats not accessible to the disabled.

Example:

Disabled person: "washing dishes hurts too much and i cannot do it."

Abled person: "what if you did one dish at a time throughout the day?"

This statement is not respecting that this disabled person just said they "can't". Always respect that. No matter how simple the task would be for you.

Disabled person:" i think ill use plastic silverware so i don't make dishes."

Abled person: "plastic is bad for the environment!"

This statement shuts down the most accessible and disabled friendly option that this disabled person can actually do because of the abled persons personal beliefs. This is not helpful, and ableist.

Better yet, instead of offering solutions, ask them directly "is there anything you need that you do not have that would help you do this?" This allows the disabled person to think about what would work, and they will always have a better idea of what would work than you do.

To add on to this, when we say we have no more energy to solve a problem or do a task, or change our lifestyle, we mean it.

2. If you feel discomfort when a disabled person is talking about their health, good and bad, that is ableist. Your discomfort is coming from a place that deams disabled peoples very existence as a bad thing and you need to fix that.

For example:

Disabled person:" this week has been rough pain wise, ive been through a lot, felt like my body was on fire. Lucky i got new meds though and i think they're helping!"

Abled person: "can we talk about something else, this is a bummer."

Disabled people should be able to exist freely without worrying about your personal comfort. Do you really think its appropriate to tell someone in constant pain that their life is making YOU uncomfortable?

3. Do not treat disabled people as tragedies, do not romanticize their old life or put their current one down.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah my life is pretty difficult sometimes, ive lost a lot but i still have happy moments."

Abled person: "it makes me so sad to see what disabled people go through :(. You used to love rock climbing and running, i would love to see you move around more again."

This statement is putting more value on the disabled persons abled past, and ignoring their life as a whole.

4. Do not avoid speaking to disabled people because it hurts to see your loved one disabled.

For example: my grandmother avoids conversations with me because it hurts her to see me in pain. While she has good intentions it leaves me being unable to be close to her. This is very isolating to the disabled.

5. Do not stop inviting your disabled friend/loved one out even if they are never well enough to attend. Unless we specifically ask you to stop asking if we can go out, good chances are we want to know you still care because again, disability is very isolating.

6. When a disabled person says certain things in their health have gotten better or worse, do not challenge this because you don't see a difference.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah things are getting a little better"

Abled person sees disabled person using their wheelchair like usual: "i thought you said you were getting better?"

Better and worse are usually small changes only the disabled experience, its not like abled people healing from a broken arm. Better to a disabled person could mean they can stand for 10 more minutes.

7. Do not expect disabled people to ever be abled again, and again, do not put more value on an abled life.

For example:

Disabled person:"I have been using a wheelchair for 2 years."

Abled person: "oh you're young, im sure you'll be walking around in no time!"

This statement invalidates and ignores the disabled persons current life by hoping they get a more abled bodied life. Its fine to hope disabled people get better, but you don't get to decide what better looks like.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

[tetsuskei]

synopsis: when a coworker brings their baby to work, that sets off the gears in kuroo's head to have some of your own

notes: first installment of oh, baby! repost from my old blog, with some editing done. please enjoy!

warnings: mentions of kids, unprotected sex, praise, body worship, cock warming, kuroo is horny on an astronomical level

interactions and reblogs are appreciated!

at first, everything is innocent. tetsurō knows his coworker only means well. but tetsurō should've expected that when ‘bring your child to work day’ came at the jva, that he'd encounter at least one infant.

his coworker asks him if he wants to hold their baby after catching him stare at the small child in awe. the resemblance between coworker and child clearly evident. he's so amazed at how strong genetics could be.

then tetsurō wondered how strong his own genetics would be when it came to your children.

to recall back, the conversation of children came up briefly between the two of you. you both decided that it would be logical to wait a little while before trying to have any. kuroo was focused on building up his career and so were you. you just wanted to have your priorities straight and be responsible. nothing's wrong with that, right?

and so the conversation had been left with a pin in it and you both moved on in life. you would question when to have children later.

when holding the child in his arms, kuroo only panicks for a moment (were babies always this small?) before the child naturally curls up into his chest. their tiny hand grabs ahold of his (ridiculously) large pinky before continuing to sleep soundly. they even coo with joy.

"they seem to really like you!" his coworker laughs. "you seem to be a natural with kids!"

tetsurō only crinkles his nose in confusion but he can't help the fluttering in his chest at those words. "i'm not really doing anything but holding them."

they laugh again and nod with understanding. "sure, but you seem to be the type to make a great father, kuroo-san. you're a good person. very patient and understanding. by the way, when do you and the missus plan to have kids?"

and so having been asked the question sent him on a spiral.

by the time he's asked, several years have passed since your first conversation about kids. both you and him are financially stable. you're both lucky enough to live comfortably, and you're both happy where you are in your careers. most importantly, you're both married.

honestly, just the thought of being married to you and having a little family turns kuroo on too much. but he wants to have a family that's better than the broken one he had growing up. the best thing he can do for his kids is show them a healthy and long lasting relationship with their mother. and god does he know he can do that. he loves you so damn much his heart aches. he'll walk across fire for you, and the best part is that he knows you'll do the same for him.

the man isn't really present for the rest of the day, having to be called out during a meeting for being unfocused, and eventually sent home after he lies and says he isn't feeling well. and it's partially true, because now that he knows he wants kids, he feels an empty hole in his chest almost as if a part of him is missing.

and if being 'sick' means trying to conceal the boner in his slacks, then so be it. he doesn't want to relieve himself of his problem, no. not when the only thing on his mind is cumming inside of you raw.

tetsurō comes home to the smell of your cooking, his second favorite scent right after you. just seeing you makes him crazy. he'd been thinking about putting a baby in you all day. his hands itching to get started.

you haven't seen him yet, but tetsurō doesn't waste anymore time. he simply eyes you intently, taking time to admire you and all the soft curves of your backside. your perfect ass. you feel the warmth of him before seeing him and that's enough to startle you.

a small gasp leaves your mouth as you look up at him surprised before a honeyed smile appears on your face. a smile that's only reserved for him. "hi! you're home earlier than usual."

he returns your greeting with a grin. "hi beautiful, how was your day?" he tugs you into his grasp. lean arms encasing you in his hold as he rests his chin on top of your head and massages your hips.

hips he knows that will bare his children.

"it was good tetsu, are you hungry? i'm finishing up dinner now, and we can talk about your day." you respond, focus retuned to the stove in front of you.

he has to admit, the food smells delicious, but he's hungry for something else this evening. and unfortunately he'll have to endure an earful from you later about letting the food get cold, but he doesn't mean any harm. he just has priorities.

he hums, turning you fully towards him. his eyes lower and become stuck on your stomach. brain stuck on the thought of you being round with his child. you would look so cute pregnant. your breast would be filled with milk, too. maybe you'll let him taste—

"'ro?" you voice snaps him from his thoughts. you try to make eye contact with him and he only smiles, not registering a single thing you just said. his large hands take your face in his hold and you feel his calloused fingers run over your cheeks before he kisses your nose and then all over your face.

"tetsurō, what's gotten into you?" you giggle. you didn't mind his affection, don't get it wrong, but there was something oddly...intense about the way he's acting that you know something is up.

the ravenette seems to contemplate his thoughts, carefully reeling over the words in his mind. "i just thought that...maybe we should start...tryin', that's all." he mumbles, mouth pressing kisses all over your skin. you shiver at his touch, at the way his scent and body crowd in on your space.

ah, there it is.

your cheeks heat up, and you know exactly what he means. his words always slur slightly when he's turned on, almost like he's delirious or hooked on lust.

that paired with his cock poking your backside through his slacks.

tetsurō only continues. "today my co-worker brought in the cutest little baby i'd ever seen. looked just like 'em, too. i didn't really understand how children could make someone so happy...but i'm startin' to." he explains, tugging off your pants and underwear in one fell swoop, the cold air hitting your folds makes you jump.

you swallow nervously, "tetsu—"

"made me realize how cute our kids could—will be. they'd be the cutest in the world, i'm sure. wonder if they'd have my eyes and your smile. and hopefully they'll inherit your hair or else we'll be in trouble." he laughs before he undoes his tie, then his shirt, and tosses the garments somewhere on the floor. his belt is undone next and he's quick to unfasten his pants.

you eyes widen, and your heart fastens at the mental image of a tiny child in your arms, the spitting image of you and kuroo.

your husband pauses again, his brows knitted in thought. "do you think...that i can be a good father? for our kids?" he leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for a moment as he must be pondering the very question.

“of course.” you nod slowly. "i don't think so, i know so. you'll be great with our kids, tetsu." you answer, running your fingers along his jaw.

"yeah?" he breathes, pulling down his pants along with his boxers. "do you still want some?" he moves your body so that you're sitting safely on the counter away from everything else.

"w-with you? yes..." you answer, voice getting caught in your throat as he prods his fat tip at your entrance. you're already soaked enough that you know he can just...slide right in.

kuroo's breathing becomes extremely labored and his gaze darkens at your words. his single strand of restraint is being pulled taut. "then can we? can we start trying, sweets?" his hands are groping at your chest and hips, and he riles himself up the longer he touches you without relief.

you barely say 'yes' before he pushes himself into you, his jaw going slack as he is enveloped by you, cunt warm and inviting and gummy walls pleasurable beyond means.

his eyes glass over and he's completely enamored by the fact that he can be this close to you. that you trust him to hold you like he is now.

you look up at him with near helplessness as his grip on your legs doesn't loosen up. the stretch of him never is something you think you can get used to, as you feel yourself struggle to adjust to his size. the heavy and thick fullness of his cock is intense. you can feel how it throbs with need.

"do you think—" he moans as your cunt drags over his cock, sucking him in more, "that they're going to be interested in volleyball?" he lets his tip kiss your cervix and you keen, causing a groan to escape his mouth. "you think they're gonna be a middle blocker like me?"

"are you really asking me that right now?" you sigh, fingers frantically gripping the counter beneath you. you move your hips against him and hope that will shut him up.

spoiler, it doesn't. "why not—fuck, just like that baby—it's a genuine question." he buries his face in the side of your neck, and the smell of your lavender soap invades his senses before his teeth choose to bite and scrape at your skin.

"you're such a volleyball nerd, tetsu." you laugh but soon moan as both of your hips move synchronously. "when are you not thinking about it?"

he huffs out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple as he presses you further into the kitchen counter. his lips linger against your skin before you felt them curve into a smile. "when i'm busy thinking 'bout your cute self, which is definitely more than volleyball."

you tried to formulate a response but only a refined moan escapes your lips again as kuroo pounds you. the sound of skin on skin filters out any remaining thoughts you had.

"you don't understand how crazy i've been goin' today." he grunts, nearly delirious in the way you cream on him so well. he can already feel himself twitch with the need to cum but as much as he wants to, he wants this moment to last a bit longer. he can't cum before you.

one of his hands lace with your own as he regards you. "been thinking about all the different ways to get you pregnant. of all the cute little maternity outfits you'll wear. of me taking care of you when you get tired and your feet ache. you're going to look so pretty carrying our baby, sweetheart."

he's rambling and you're not even sure if he's talking to you or if he's talking directly to your womb. but his words alone are enough to bring you to your first orgasm, pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

"jesus christ," he groans, struggling to keep composure, "it's like your cunt is trying to suck the life out of me."

you only whimper, legs quivering in a way you didn't know they could as you slip them tighter around his waist. with the way kuroo is bullying your insides he just might be successful at his agenda of getting you pregnant tonight.

he moves your legs over his shoulders, laying you down so your back is pressed against the cold surface of the marble counter. the new angle he decides to rut in you at causes you to cry out in surprise.

"so perfect, so pretty like this split on my cock. gonna be even prettier filled with my cum." his head bows so that he can kiss you and you eagerly meet his lips, the taste of him comforting, addicting, and familiar all at once.

he brings one hand down to your clit, moving his fingers methodically over your bundle of nerves as he coos and encourages you to cum again.

"tetsu, please," you whine, "you feel so good, wanna have your babies." the need and anticipation of getting your husbands cum is starting to make you frustrated yet needy all at the same time. yet the way he's making you feel right now makes you want this moment to last forever.

he must sense what you're feeling and hums, kissing you again sweetly. "oh you're not understandin' me princess," he breathes, hips moving in an animalistic way. "i'm gonna have you knocked up by the end of tonight. that's a promise."

"you promise?" you look up at him with doe eyes, mouth parted as little moans still escape you.

he'd give you the world if you asked. he'd pluck the sun from the sky, too. when he presses his forehead to yours he only professes his love to you like he's saying his vows for the first time. he can feel the tightening of his balls and burning pit in his abdomen as his release creeps up on him.

and when he pinches your bundle of nerves, you cum again for a second time. your eyes roll back in your head and your nails dig deeply into the muscle of his broad shoulders.

tetsurō nearly doubles over when his orgasm follows, and he spills thick, white cords of cum into you. his golden eyes look at you and you swear he cums just a little more from the eye contact you two hold. the hard throbbing and pulsing warmth he provides you makes you clench around him again, a feeling of wholeness and elation when you're finally full of him.

you're both incredibly still for a moment and you just hold each other. he sits you up with regard, and you brush back his sweaty fringe. his large hands massage your muscles before he carefully carries you to your shared bedroom.

he sits down and you realize you're both still very connected.

"t-tetsu!" you grab onto him, eyes widening as your taken by surprised at the new angle.

"fuck..." he hisses.

there's something sensitive in the way he moves inside of you, and you're not sure if that has to do with his cum inside of you or your cunt trying to hold in every drop.

kuroo always liked the notion of kissing your ring finger, because it reminded him that the two of you are joined—united. you start to speak but he does before you can even formulate the words.

"i hope you don't think we're done here." he murmurs, and by the twitch of his cock you know he's serious. him and his damned stamina. exhausted, you only shift your trembling hips to prepare for more.

it's looking to be a long night.

and so it's not surprising when several weeks pass by and when said coworker asks him again about kids, he proudly shows them the ultrasound photo hidden away in his wallet.

he only hopes that after baby number 1 you won't mind more.

taglist (send an ask to be added): @boosyboo9206 @milkteeboba @kodzukenmaaa @honeybleed

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Tech Support

I haven't participated in a @steddiemicrofic challenge since February, but I have missed them! Here's the August prompt plug at 437 words with a T rating.

"It's broken," Eddie repeated. "I know you think you're suddenly some kind of tech expert, but my amp won't magically turn on."

Steve sighed. "Dude, I literally sell computers. No expert, but I'm sure I could figure something out with it."

"It's dead as a doorknob," Eddie said. He cocked his head to the side. "Where does that expression come from anyway? Doorknobs were never alive."

"You're getting distracted."

Eddie stuck his tongue out. "Look, it's old. I'm lucky it's lasted this long. I've been slowly saving up because it was only a matter of time."

"Just let me look." Steve let out a long-suffered sigh. "If it is dead, what would it hurt?"

Eddie didn't hesitate at all as he said, "My pride."

Steve snorted. "Is your pride worth the cost of a new amp? And a canceled show tomorrow because you'll never get a new one that fast?"

Eddie shrugged. "Probably not." He slowly stepped aside. "Fine, oh wise tech guy! Fix my amp."

As Steve walked around him, Eddie muttered, "This should be good," but Steve staunchly ignored him. He was used to Eddie's dramatics.

Steve stood over the amp as he considered his options. He didn't know enough about the hardware to try and peel away panels or yank at the internal mechanisms. Eddie had been right that a little basic computer repair didn't come close to understanding how complicated musical equipment worked. Still, the computer had to be the more complex of the two, right? It didn't hurt anything but his own pride if he couldn't figure it out.

That little pep talk handled, Steve knelt next to the amp. He considered it for a moment, studying the knobs on the front before feeling around for any hidden buttons. His fingers wrapped around something at the back, and Steve paused.

He turned back to where Eddie had leaned against the wall for a smoke break. "Solved your problem."

Eddie waved his cigarette before dropping it. "Doesn't look like it's on to me. You didn't fix it just because you declared that you fixed it."

"No," Steve agreed, "but I bet it turns on when I plug this in."

Eddie gaped as he wiggled the cord back and forth. "You're shitting me!"

Steve laughed as he moved through the steps Eddie had forgotten, grinning at the hum of amp and speaker crackling to life together. "Sorry, babe. Sometimes it just takes an expert."

Eddie glared, even as he moved forward to wrap his arms around Steve. "Smart ass." He pressed a quick kiss to Steve's nose, an apology or thanks Steve didn't know.

[withahappyrefrain]

Drowning in the Light Part 1

Summary: Once excited about your job as a lounge singer, now you can barely get through it, thanks to your less than charming boyfriend. Can a blue eyed bodyguard pull you out of a horrible situation? Or are you both doomed by the life you chose?

Warning: extensive reference to domestic abuse (not by Bob), language, guns, mob bodyguard Bob AU (yes he comes with a warning you'll see)

***

Sharp pain seared throughout your body, starting at your legs, bruised from kicks, up to your shoulders, sore from being shoved against a wall. Then your head, God, your head. You must have hit something when you got knocked down. 

The throbbing pain surrounding your right eye was familiar. From past experience, you knew it would be bruised, no need to look in the mirror. But the sharp, stinging pain near your scalp was new. Gently, you placed your fingers on the area, feeling something wet. 

Blood. 

You should get up, take care of yourself, try to leave before the man responsible for it all comes back. But instead, all you could do was curl into a ball. 

It wasn't always like this. 

For as long as you could remember, you wanted to sing. Selling out Madison Square Garden wasn't your end goal. No, you were content to land a job where you could sing at the same place every night. No more wedding gigs that took up your entire weekend. No more supplementing your income with that lousy waitressing job. Plus, the owner was sweet on you. 

At first. 

Slowly, you sat yourself up, thankful the pain in your arms from a few days ago has subsided. It wasn't fun wearing long sleeves in late spring, but you didn't have the time to cover it up with makeup. No, you were now far too busy helping run the club, despite making almost no money from it. After all, who was going to restock the bar? Clearly not the owner. Nor would he clean up the room he just destroyed.  Chairs had been knocked over. A now broken bottle of Bourbon had clearly been smashed against the wall, the scent burning your nostrils. 

But no sign of the man who was the cause of all this. 

Looking back, the red flags were obvious, but at the time, they were easy to ignore. You were living your dream and had found someone who supported it. That was all you wanted since moving away from your family to pursue your ambitions. 

So what if he got a little jealous when you spoke to male patrons? It was easy to calm him down and besides, you quickly learned to be on the lookout for him. When he suggested you stop interacting with your family, it seemed to come with good intentions. They had never supported your dreams and their phone calls always ended with an offer to pay for graduate school, scoffing at the possibility you were truly happy. 

In retrospect, it’s possible they saw the red flags you were blind to. 

Moving in together was a no brainer. It meant you could quit your temp office job that you did only to make ends meet. It also made sense why you were giving part of your paycheck to him, to help cover household expenses. 

You were now lucky if you could stash away a few dollars from your nightly tips before he got to it. 

Running a club was stressful, especially one where clients did seedy business. They never harmed you or other patrons, unless provoked (by someone who had too much liquid courage and not enough wits about them). He started off just yelling, which then turned into shoving, which had now turned into you lying on the floor of your dressing room, surrounded by destruction. 

So you didn't get up right away. Your eyes remained closed as you attempted to block out the sounds of an argument on the first floor. Your so-called "boyfriend" was probably giving some bullshit excuse as to why he was unable to pay someone on time. 

Again. 

Tonight, you had interrupted to offer a much better reason as to why he couldn't pay a vendor on time. You even got an extension, something the club desperately needed. Can’t run a place like this without alcohol, after all. 

But that wasn't good enough. You made him look incompetent, stupid. Like he couldn't manage his own lounge. It was the truth, one that everyone could see, but making it known was a sin. You knew it would be bad with the way he grabbed your wrist, practically dragging you back to your dressing room, ignoring the stares of onlookers. 

This was a new low for him. Funny how he kept surprising you, even a year later. 

Sounds of men talking downstairs were muffled, probably one of the many seedy customers who stayed past closing to discuss less than legal matters. They were loud tonight and you'd probably have to clean up whatever mess they were making. After all, your boyfriend was far too busy to help. 

But first you had to clean up yourself. Standing up was painful, your knees throbbing from being pushed onto the hard wooden floor earlier. If things kept the way they were going, you would need a walking cane before you turned forty. 

There was no way in hell you could put up with this for much longer. You wanted to leave, it was escaping that was the problem. The other night acts felt pity for you, but they also had to make ends meet. Assistance came with a risk, whether it was losing a huge chunk of their income or worse, facing his wrath. Same with the bartenders, the bottle girls. Looking the other way was much safer. Besides, you weren’t the first they’ve seen in this situation. Won’t be the last either. 

The broken mirror encapsulated the damage done to your body. Your tights were now torn, a sleeve ripped, revealing the constellation of healing bruises on your arm. The skin around your right eye was swollen, no doubt turning into a blackened bruise by tomorrow. Some of the blood near your scalp had begun to dry. That would be a pain to hide. Applying makeup would run the risk of infection. Perhaps you could come up with a believable excuse, should Bob ask. 

Bobby. 

The thought of the blue eyed man brought a sense of warmth to your body. How such a kind man ended up working as the bodyguard of a gang was a mystery, how he kept that kindness even moreso. His boss Maverick had been a repeat customer for several months now. Where they went, Bob followed. He always made sure to comment on how well you did up on stage, even sneaking you a tip. Bob had the sweetest smile you ever saw; pink lips forming into a thin, slightly lopsided grin, the corners of his eyes subtly creasing. He didn't smile during his shifts, just with you. 

His beautiful smile entered your mind quite often. It was the nicest thing you’d see all day. Yes, you were in a relationship, but it’s not like you were in love with the guy. No, if you had a choice, it would be Bob, the man who always spoke respectfully to you, always asked how you were doing, always genuine. 

But you didn’t deserve a guy like Bob Floyd. Before, you hoped for luck. That you’d finally win this time and be happy. Be loved. 

What a fucking joke. 

Wetness began to form around your eyes. Looking up, your reflection revealed eyes brimming with tears. A year ago, you rarely cried. Now it happens almost every day. You had become numb to it, barely registering as you grabbed a tissue, trying not to physically wince as you blotted the open wound. 

It was time to fix yourself. Stuff it all down and go out and sing. Just like you did every other night. 

**

Bob Floyd had always been quiet. Truth was, he preferred to mind his own business and not get in anyone’s way. Ironic, considering his job. 

He didn’t want to do this. But when his father died and left Bob, his mother, and his four other penniless, his sixteen year old self knew something needed to change. Temporary, he had told himself, it would be temporary. Enough to get his family back on their feet. Besides, it was more de-escalating situations rather than causing them. Usually his stern voice and presence was enough to deter folks, meaning the amount of times he had to resort to violence was rare. 

It was supposed to be a temporary job. 

But he was good at it. He got promotions, more money, more stability for his family. He was able to send his mother back to school, giving his family a better life. When Iceman retired, Bob was kept on for the new generation due to his valuable knowledge and established connections. 

Jake called him a stealth pilot. Quietly lurking, observing. Taking mental notes to share later, keeping track of every detail. It was how Bob realized what was going on with the lounge singer. 

Bob had been going to the club with Jake and the rest of the crew for almost a year now. Maverick wanted to keep a low profile, so he sent the latest recruits who had proven themselves. The first sign was how the light had steadily left your eyes, even when you were singing. When Bob first met you, you were like a ray of sunshine, eyes bright, smile radiant. 

Then came the tense arguments with the owner. Bob could never hear them but he could tell from your face afterwards it wasn't a two way street. 

Bob didn't hate most people. But he fucking hated Beau Simpson. 

It was obvious he didn't treat you well. Bob noticed how prevalent bruises had become on your arms, how often you ‘bumped into something' to explain a black eye. No person could be that clumsy. 

So when Simpson had come up short on payment again, Bob didn't show mercy. 

“Isn't this the fifth time he's been late? Why don’t we go down and talk to him?” Bob suggested to Jake. 

Jake, always eager to please Maverick (and annoy Bradley) was more than happy to take him, Javy, Mickey, and Natasha over. They were a well oiled machine; Bob would find and corner him, Jake would ask the questions directly to the traitor, Javy and Mickey were there for muscle while Nat was getting the real answers from others and looking into their systems if need be. 

The coward made eye contact with Bob and then swiftly turned around, no doubt attempting to avoid him. What a fucking joke. Bob hated this was the guy you were tangled up with. 

So yeah, maybe he should have used his voice before putting his hands on Simpson. A saying his mother always told him and his siblings, her school teacher career showing. 

She also still thought Bob worked in construction. 

Bob couldn't lie, it felt good to slam him against the wall. Make him feel a tenth of the pain he caused you. It would never be enough, not unless he saw Simpson six feet under. 

But when he came into the doorway of your dressing room, the rage disappeared. It was gone the moment he saw you hunched over the vanity, applying makeup despite the steam of tears on your face. 

"Dove?"  

As soon as you turned your head, he made way to the vanity, carefully stepping over broken glass and knocked down chairs.  

Bob knelt down, his hands near yours, but not quite touching. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. Normally his special nickname would bring a smile to your face, but you were too ashamed of how he found you. 

What a fucking pathetic site. 

"Dove," he repeated, his voice now soft, barely above a whisper, "Who did this to you?" 

He knows the answer and has for months now. It's the confirmation he needs. But it's also the hope that maybe with your confirmation, he could help you begin to heal. 

The name was on the tip of your tongue. But that would mean admitting it. Not just that he hurt you. But the fact that you had become some pathetic singer who was stuck with an obvious piece of shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. When you first started working here, it was full of excitement. 

It was easy for your mind to think of Bob when you were with your partner. It was easy to think of those surprisingly soft blue eyes. In bed, you did your best to pretend it was his hands touching your body. It was an escape. A fantasy you indulged in as a desperate  attempt to not think about your current situation. 

Like he would want to be with you! You were a liability. You didn't deserve him. 

That didn't stop your heart from fluttering when you felt his fingers gently cup your face, tilting your head up to look at him. His fingers were calloused. You knew what his hands were capable of, having witnessed him sling punches, like they were nothing. 

But Bob Floyd’s touch was soft. You could feel them on your face, but he refrained from adding pressure. And gentle, oh so gentle. He avoided the bruise that was forming near your right eye. The way his thumb gently stroked your mascara stained cheek was comforting. 

Soft. Gentle. Comforting. 

When was the last time you felt any of that from someone touching you? It was a foreign concept, one you so desperately chased that you were willing to ignore the bright, beaming red flags and run head first into danger. 

By all means, he should be seen as a danger. A huge scarlet flag. His 'job' required him to oversee and commit violent, illegal acts. He didn't hide it. And with those expensive suits, rings, and those dark eyes, he looked almost like the Devil, ready to trick you into signing your soul away. 

But he wasn't like that. At least, not to you. A sweet smile, reserved only for a selective few. Eyes that pierced through your soul. His presence brought an ease to you. 

He leaned in, his forehead almost touching yours. A battle of emotions was going through his eyes. Rage. Anger. Concern. It felt nice for someone to be concerned about you. 

"Did Simpson do this to you?” He asked, voice barely above a  whisper. 

When you nodded, it felt like a weight being lifted off your chest. Finally, someone else knew. 

Bob’s jaw tensed as he nodded his head in understanding, "And was he responsible for all the other injuries you've had?" 

He did notice. Why he was paying attention to you, some lowly singer, was beyond your comprehension. 

You nodded your head, tears filling your eyes, "It's…..it's all been him, Bobby." 

He nodded, the tension in his jaw remaining. He wanted to say so much, but knew what was most important: you. Your safety. 

"Let's get you cleaned up Dove," He said softly, standing up. He stuck out his hand, clearly gesturing for you to take it. 

It felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. His large hand felt like a peace offering, a shining lighthouse in the midst of the dark, bleary night. But taking it meant Bob would now be involved. You didn't want that, couldn't have that. If he found out….sure, Bob could take care of himself. But you would feel guilty if anything were to happen to him. Besides, what would happen to you? What if Simpson found out? The beating would probably send you to the emergency room. Even worse, it probably meant you wouldn't get to see Bob anymore. 

You needed that lopsided smile and kind eyes to get through the nights. The thought of not seeing them scared the shit out of you. 

"You need a first aid kit, not concealer," Bob explained, sensing your hesitation. 

So sensible. But you didn't have time for any of that. Shaking your head, you turned back to the vanity, “I have to go on soon.” 

“We shut down the place. Need Simpson to explain why he's gone two months without paying us.” 

When you still didn't move, Bob’s hands trailed down your face, landing on your shoulders. He kneeled down, looking into your eyes, “Can I help you? Please?” 

"Bob, it's not worth it. I don't…if he finds out…” The very thought of what could happen made your eyes brim with tears.  

You were right to be hesitant. Bob wished he could scoop you up into his arms and take you far away from this place. For now, first aid would have to be done and he needed you to see that. 

“Dove, I can make sure he never touches you again, if that's what you want.” God, he hoped you wanted that, “But getting cleaned up is the bare minimum of what you need. And the least I can do after not saying anything earlier.”

So he had noticed all the bruises you tried to cover up. How the light in your eyes only came back when you were up on stage singing or talking to him. He noticed how quickly that light drained from your eyes, how fear replaced it at the sight of Simpson. Bob should have said something earlier, instead of waiting so long.

Never again. 

You didn’t know this at the time. But something, deep in the back of your mind- call it hope or wishful thinking-told you he meant it. 

So you took his hand. He could see you limping and placed an arm around your waist, allowing you to put your weight on him. Sage flooded your nostrils, his scent comforting. Bob led you to  the couch in the Manager's office, walking away to find the first aid kit. It was quiet, but not in an awkward way. You enjoyed it, to be truthful. So much of your life was loud, violent, chaotic. To sit in peace was refreshing. Though you couldn't help but look at the door, the thought of anyone being able to come in at the back of your mind. 

“He's not going to come up. Mickey and Javy are currently holding him down while he answers Jake,” Bob commented, not even bothering to look up from the first aid kit. 

How did he know? The question was soon replaced by another one, “Why aren't you down there with them?” 

Bob made his way to the couch, gently laying the kit on the coffee table, rummaging as he picked up sanitation wipes. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” He confessed, the tops of his cheeks turning a dusty pink. The admission made your heart flutter. Despite his job requiring a cold, hardened demeanor, a kindness shone through. 

You witnessed it the first time Bob met you. Oh, you had seen him beforehand. It was hard not to miss the tall handsome man with the piercing blue eyes, clad in a well fitted suit. The top of his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver chain that reflected against the lights. 

God, he was so attractive. Still is. It was your first day on the job and the last thing you wanted to do was ruffle one of the patrons. Beau had warned you that they would leave you alone as long as you did the same. 

Looking back, you wondered if his advice had other intentions, more self serving ones that out of kindness. You tried to follow his advice, situating yourself near the bathroom while waiting for your cue. Once the previous act waves goodbye, you knew it was time to move. But God, you were so nervous that day! So nervous that you were too busy inspecting your dress for any possible wrinkles instead of looking up. 

Your head ran into a firm chest, large hands quickly stabilized your body. When you looked up, you found yourself face to face with Bob Floyd. 

Instead of a scowl, there was a small smile on his face as he asked, “You alright ma'am?” 

You had been smitten ever since. Keeping a distance made sense, he didn’t deserve you. Which is why you brushed it off as just a silly crush and looked elsewhere for affection. 

“Whatcha thinking about Dove?” Bob asked before gingerly applying the sanitizing wipes to your forehead. 

“The day we met. You were so sweet, making sure that I was okay and wishing me good luck,” you spoke fondly of the memory, sharing a smile with him, “I think about that day often.” 

“I do too,” he confessed, making your heart flutter once again. It made you want to explain, want to tell him everything that had happened. 

“I....it's all been going on for a year. It wasn't bad at first. Like yeah, he would yell at me, but he'd apologize afterwards. At first he’d just grip my shoulders real hard. Then he'd shove me out of the way. But he would still apologize to me afterwards. Sometimes he'd even get me flowers. I knew business was rough, so I convinced myself it wasn't personal,” you paused, “I must sound so fucking dumb.” 

“No. There's nothing wrong with wanting to see the best in someone,” Bob mumbled as he shifted through the first aid kit, finding the right size gauze, "Doesn't make you dumb."

“That's what I kept telling myself when it got worse. Over time, he’d stopped apologizing. Made me feel bad, like it was my fault. And I knew it wasn't, but I didn't want to set him off again. By the time I realized it wasn't going to get better, it was too late. Did you know you need ID to enter those shelters? Can't get in if you don't have it. I've been trying to save up what I can to get a ride back to my hometown, but it's been six months and I don't even have half of what I need,” your cheeks felt wet, no doubt being stained by tears. 

“He takes your earnings too?” Bob asked, trying to contain his anger by clutching a rag in his hand. 

You nodded, “I can only take a little here and there, so he won't notice. I didn't want him to find out and…..” 

A sob escaped your chest. Once it was released, you couldn't stop. Given how often you cried, it shouldn't feel any different. 

But then a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, gently pulling you into a broad chest. Resting your head in the crook of Bob’s neck, you felt a sense of safety for the first time in who knows how long. A soft pair of lips gently pressed against your temple, a thumb caressing your cheek. 

“We can make sure he never touches you again. And we will,” Bob murmured against your skin. 

“How?” you sniffled, “I have a contract and it’s legally binding, I can’t leave.”

He shook his head, “We can take care of that.” Your hands found his, fingers skimming over his long digits, tracing over each ring, every crevice and line. It was comforting, helping you slow down your breathing. 

Bob continued, “Natasha found out he's been running this place dry on purpose to commit  fraud. He doesn't have enough to pay us back, so Jake is gonna make him sign over the place to Maverick.” 

You had heard whispers about Bob’s boss. Apparently he wasn't a fan of Simpson anyways. Not a shocker, the man didn't even try to be pleasant. 

Looking up at Bob, your faces were now inches apart. You could see flecks of gray in his stubble and at his temples. Faded freckles were scattered across his face, like stars in the night. Sandy brown hair that curled at the ends. A button nose that accentuated his pink lips. Did he have freckles else along his body?

“Whatcha looking at Dove?" He asked, a small smile creeping across his face. 

“Just admiring how handsome you are, Bobby." The words left your mouth before your brain could process them. 

You expected him to push you away, to shrug it off.  Instead, his cheeks turned a bright red as he ducked his head into the crook of your neck. You figured that Bob heard it all the time. Besides, he was just being nice, done because he felt bad for you. 

You certainly didn't expect him to become flustered, unable to form a coherent response. His soft lips pressed a kiss against your collarbone. You could feel his smile burn into your skin, like sunshine. When you grabbed his hand, Bob intertwined his fingers with yours.  

Perhaps you weren't the only one who craved affection, for gentle touches.

“You're too sweet for me, Dove.” His breath was hot on your skin, sending a spark of electricity up your spine. 

There was always an unspoken tension between you two. So many maybes. Maybe he should have spoken out sooner. Maybe you should have tried going for Bob rather than settling like always. 

“I feel the same way about you,” it felt good to finally admit it, like a weight leaving your shoulders. For a brief moment, you forgot the circumstances of the situation. For once, it felt normal, as if you two were simply friends who met through work. 

Bob gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before sitting up straight. He studied your face, taking in every mark and line, everything that made you you. Bob also took in the bruise forming around your right eye. 

“We need to ice that eye. I'll be right back okay?” After receiving a nod, he untangled himself from your body, much to his dismay and yours. But he wasn't doing it because you repulsed him, no. Rather, he wanted to take care of you. 

"So will Maverick be the new owner of this place?" You asked, eyes glued to Bob as he moved about in the room. 

"More or less. Though he's still looking for a partner. Someone who can be at the club and help run things," He looked back at you, "Someone who has been working here for a while and was already unofficially running the place." 

You knew damn well who he was referring to. Your lips tightened as a pang of panic peaked through your brain at Bob Floyd’s proposal. Was that why he was doing all this? So he makes a business deal? 

He must have sensed this, as he quickly came back to the couch, bag of ice in hand, "If you want to. If you want to keep on singing here, you can. I also don't blame ya if you want to get the hell outta here." 

Choices. You had multiple choices to choose from. When was the last time that had happened? 

"What are you going to do to him?" It was haunting your mind. Was it worth staying here if you would always have to look over your shoulder? 

Bob leaned in, his hand gently touching your knee, avoiding the bruises, "Whatever you want us to do." 

Whatever? 

"If you want me to put him six feet under, I'll do it," He elaborated, "If you want me to scare him off, make sure he never comes within twenty feet of ya, I can do that too." 

More choices. It was your problem, you should have a say in how it was solved. 

"It's up to you Dove," He said, his thumb softly stroking your knee. 

You liked his touch. You wanted more of it. He was so gentle. 

"I want…..I want him gone Bobby. I want to never worry about whether he'll show his face again," You revealed. The idea of it being a threat, always looming in the shadows, was terrifying. How could one expect you to sleep soundly at night? 

Bob nodded his head. He leaned in and gingerly pressed the bag of ice to the corner of your eye. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as soon as he saw you wince, “It's going to hurt a little, but the cooling will help with the bruising.” 

“It would be nice to sing again and actually enjoy it. You think Maverick can actually turn this place around?” You placed your hand on his wrist. Bob wanted nothing more than to take yours and kiss your soft skin. 

That would be taking it too far. Yes, ironic, considering he already kissed your temple and collarbone. Was a collarbone kiss more intimate than a wrist kiss? Or was it the other way around? 

“Bobby?” A soft, sweet giggle fell from your lips upon seeing how his brows knitted together when he was in deep concentration. 

“Sorry Dove, what did you say?” Bob asked sheepishly. He didn't know what was worse, confessing he was distracted by your beauty or that he was thinking about kissing your body. 

“Do you think Maverick will turn this place around? Not trying to doubt your boss, but if it's just seen as a way to get back at Simpson….I don't know if I'd want to stay.” 

Bob’s heart sank. If you wanted to walk out of this place, he'd burned your contract in a heartbeat. He couldn't blame you for desiring it either. But selfishly, he wanted you to stay. He wanted to hear your voice, see your smile, and speak without having to walk on eggshells in case a certain someone was listening. 

“I think he will. He’ll probably give the place to either Jake or Bradley, either one of them will do a good job just to piss off the other,” Bob chuckled, “Besides, he doesn't want the transfer to be a big deal, so I don't see him firing folks, other than those that are loyal to Simpson. Which isn't that many. Maybe three?” Bob scratched his head, trying to think of the actual number. 

You snorted, “Three's a pretty generous number.” 

When Bob Floyd laughs, the corners of his eyes creased and he threw his head back. It was the sweetest discovery. It was also the first time you truly laughed, full belly, that day. Probably the first time in weeks. Lightness flooded your body, despite the bruises and cuts that currently marked it. 

“And if Maverick owns it, I'll be here more. I can make sure you're safe. If that's what you want!” Bob added the last part quickly. You had just gotten out of a relationship from hell, one that involved controlling behavior. The last thing he wanted was for you to think similarly of him. 

Your lips stretched into a smile, “I'd like that…to see you more. Whenever you came to visit, it was always the highlight of my day.” 

Bob couldn't help but beam, his heart fluttering at a pace that should be medically concerning, “I felt the same about you Dove.” 

Upon receiving a bright smile from you,  Bob removed the bag of ice from your face, fingers delicately skimming over the bruised skin. It was as good as it was going to get. He would be happy to help you ice it later, if that's what you wanted. Bob would give you the world if he could. 

Gathering all the courage he had (ironic considering he's killed people before), he leaned in, allowing his lips to press against your cheek. This time, it wasn't stained with tears or smudged makeup. A refreshing change that Bob hoped he could help keep. 

You leaned into his touch, fingers finding purchase in the lapels of his black jacket. Looking up, your noses brushed, his lips inches away from yours, if that. 

You could stay like this forever. In his arms, you felt safe. You felt like you could joke and laugh and be yourself. 

Knowing how soft his lips were made you wonder how they’d feel against your own. It wasn't the first time this thought flashed through your brain. But it was the first time you were close enough to find out. 

Simpson will be gone, Bob would make sure of that. There wasn’t anyone to fear, you could just lean in and-

A loud knock interrupted the sweet moment. Fear swept through your body as you buried your face into Bob’s chest. 

He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before telling you to get in the corner, right behind the mini fridge.  You did as you were told, crouching down to make yourself invisible to whoever walked through the door. 

In your position you could see Bob, pulling out the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants. He quickly cocked it as he moved swiftly towards the door. It was locked but that didn’t deter people here. 

“Floyd, you in there?” A familiar voice rang out on the other side. Relief flooded your body at the sound of Natasha’s voice. She was a rare sight, working more behind the scenes. It must be pretty bad if they brought her in. 

But Bob remained silent, back pressed to the wall, gun in hand. He couldn’t take any risks. Not when it came to your safety. The way he effortlessly demonstrated his care made you wish that Natasha had waited twenty seconds before knocking. 

“The rodeo is all cleared,” Nat said. At the sound of their code word, Bob let out a sigh of relief. With his gun still in one hand (just in case), he opened the door, revealing the dark haired woman, who also had a matching gun in hand. 

“We finally got him to sign over the place. Now we’re figuring out what to do with him. Got any ideas?” She asked with a smirk. 

Bob turned to your direction, as you were now standing by the couch, “I think that’s her decision. She had to bear the brunt of him after all.”

Natasha peered over, taking in your bruises and cuts. She nodded, to silently show her understanding, “What would you like?”

You had a choice. What even was the right thing in this scenario? Was it letting someone live, despite all their wrongdoings? Or was it preventing him from hurting anyone else? The blood wouldn’t be on your hands, literally. But you still played a part. 

“I….I want him gone. To not be able to come back to this place and hurt people. You guys know how to do that better than I do.” 

You saw them nodding to each other. They had probably made a decision. It was obvious what was going to happen, but you didn't say it out loud. Does that relieve you of some responsibility? 

Maybe. Probably not. But it made you feel better inside. 

“You wanna come atch?” Natasha asked, motioning to you and Bob. 

Seeing you shake your head, Bob mimicked, “I'll stay up here with her. Make sure she's all cleaned up.” 

You sat down on the couch, waiting for Natasha to leave. It warmed your heart that Bob chose to stay with you. Maybe he also felt it too, that spark of kismet that circuited back and forth. 

Bob kneeled down in front of you, eyes and hands inspecting your arms and your legs. His gentle touch left goosebumps along your skin. You shifted to the edge of the couch, clearly to help him inspect the rest of your wounds. 

No other reason. 

“I gotta clean up this scrape, don't want it to get infected.” A lovely gesture, considering you didn't make enough money to qualify for health insurance. 

You nodded your head. His large hand placed itself on the back of your leg, the other gently pressing a wipe against the cut. 

“You'll hear a gunshot pretty soon,” he warned, not wanting you to be alarmed. You nodded, bracing yourself for the imminent noise. 

Except you didn't hear a gunshot. You heard several voices arguing. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” 

“Get him!” 

“Get the gun!” 

Then, you heard a gunshot. 

“God dammit,” Bob cursed under his breath. His eyes darted to the door that Natasha left a hair open. 

He moved quickly, not even waiting for you to stand up. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, the other underneath your thighs and picked you up. He carried you to the closest, gently sitting you down in the dark space. 

“I’ll be right back, Dove. But I need you to stay here. I'm going to lock the other door, but don't open it to anyone. Even if you hear my voice, don't open it unless I use the rodeo, okay?” His voice was hushed, his ocean eyes piercing your soul. 

He was leaving. A fight had broken out when they tried to off Cyclone. Started by either him or his two loyal goons. Bob was going to leave you. 

He might not come back. 

“No,” your voice shook like a leaf in the wind, “Please- don't leave me!” 

His fingers stroked your cheeks in an attempt to bring comfort, “I’ll be back, okay? But I gotta go in order to protect you. I don’t want him or one of those goons to find ya.”

In the distance, a familiar voice yelled out your name. A voice that made your blood turn to ice. 

Bob was operating off of adrenaline, off of the primal need to protect you. Desire was coursing through him as well. Your tears were for him, not because he brought you pain but rather you cared so much for him that the thought of him not returning tugged on your heart strings. He wanted to wait, to make sure you were ready and then take you out on a nice date. 

The nice Italian place that was secretly a front for Slider’s real business. Despite being a front, it made some of the best penne alla vodka in town. 

But a nice date wasn't at the forefront of Bob’s mind currently. Rather, it was your lips and how they were quivering, how soft they looked. 

His mama would smack him upside the head if she could see him now, kissing a girl he hadn’t taken out on a date yet. 

She would also smack the shit out of him for lying about his job all these years. 

Bob was too lost in the softness of your lips. Your hands found their way into his soft hair, gripping the strands to deepen the kiss. His lips were so soft, his hands gentle as they cupped your jawline, as though he didn’t want to apply additional pressure, as though he didn’t want to cause you any harm. 

You truly believed that was his intent. 

The kiss seemed to go on forever, but simultaneously not long enough. Sounds of heavy footsteps and yelling in the hallway caused him to break away. Your hands remained on the lapels of his jacket, silently begging him. 

Please. Don't go. Stay with me. Please. 

“I'll be back, okay Dove?” he whispered before pressing a quick kiss to your lips once more. He removed your hands from the lapels, silently standing up. Bob paused for a brief moment, for what you hoped (in vain) was him considering staying. Instead, he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders. 

You wanted to shout, but that would be deadly. All you could do was watch Bob close the door, listen to the sound of his gun cocking and then a second door closing. 

Left in the dark. Alone. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you tried rocking yourself back and forth, silently willing the tears building up to go away. 

They still fell. 

[the-dixon-effect]

Daryl Dixon - idiots in love headcanons

Daryl's never known anybody like you before. for the first time, a person has chosen him. you can make him feel loved just by talking to him, Hell, you can make him glow just by standing in the same room.

he thinks you're so beautiful. if love at first sight exists, which firmly believed it didn't before he met you, then this apocalypse was the best damn thing that ever happened to him.

it took Daryl a considerably long time for him to realise that his uncharacteristically affectionate feelings were love.

before Daryl realised he was in love, his brother used to constantly tease him about the way he was looking at you. he didn't even know he was doing it - "Whatchu givin' that girl puppy-dog eyes for, lil' bro?"

you two were definitely best friends before he confessed his love for you. you grew close during the prison era, and you were the first person whom he let his guard down in front of.

he can't stand to be apart from you. "If she dun' love me back, I can either be her friend or drive a thousan' miles west, an' never see y'all again," he had told Carol once.

his eyes inadvertently follow your movements, as if his subconscious felt like he needed to protect you.

everything somehow always comes back to you. a piece of jewellery he found on a run? Y/N would love that. the heating system in her house at alexandria's broken? he's fixing it tonight. in the meantime, he's at your door delivering a pile of woollen blankets. he spots a deer outside the walls? he's tracking it for days because he knows you love venison.

you love the way Daryl always steps into a situation to protect you. especially if it's another guy bothering you. he gets jealous so easily, and he doesn't even know it, like defending you is instinctual.

God forbid another man lays his hands on you. that motherfucker is already dead before you can object in the slightest.

Daryl is the only man you trust to talk about your issues with. he'd never pass up an opportunity to listen to your voice, but some of the things you tell him break his heart like nothing's ever done before.

you'll sweetly ask if he'd just hold you. and he wraps you up in his big arms and lets you cry softly into his chest while he places a hand in the back of your hair. rubbing sweet circles into the back of your neck. nothing could make you feel safer than Daryl's embrace.

after countless intimate moments like these, you start to wonder if he's like this around anyone else. surprise, surprise: he doesn't. and a part of him wishes you knew.

oh, but how much you adore him. you wonder if he knows how pretty he is; and how much you want to show him. his unkempt chocolate waves that perfectly frame his face, how much you'd like to tangle your fingers in them and kiss him all over.

you feel as though you owe him for all the times you've cried into his large, comforting figure. he occasionally brings up his past, his brother, his parents, and how much you want him to let it out. to hold him and wipe his tears away while you press soft kisses over his eyelids and cheekbones.

maybe one day, underneath some lucky constellations, you'd let each other.

taglist: @alldevilsarehere90 @poisonmenegan @radcollectivesoul @emilykolchivans @pinchoftheoutsiders

[cinnamonest]

What if Darling is the one trying to control her partner? She’s an overly naive and self-assured girl who suddenly decides she wants to mess with the feelings of an attractive man. She’ll try to manipulate, intimidate, and gaslight him until he breaks.

I’m dying how I want to see that sweet surprise in her eyes when she realizes she was the victim all along. A good, kind man suddenly shows his true face. He endured all her abuse just to trap her. How ironic!

Maybe it’ll be Zhongli - charming and courteous but actually hiding a creepy dark side. Or Childe - a guy who hides a lot of dark desires behind a carefree smile.

AAAAAAAAAAAAA anon this is stewing in my brain, because imagine Morax in his peak era when he would come down amongst the humans...

Some manipulative foreigner girl who travels from place to place, manipulating and bleeding men dry for as long as you stay there, only to disappear and go on to somewhere else once you've gotten everything he has. Never wanting to commit, always wanting more.

Men essentially take care of your travel expenses too — it's easy to use them for free lodging, food, and so on. You rarely pay for anything in life, other than the luxuries you get yourself with their money.

So when you arrive, you latch onto the first attractive stranger you see on the street, and he's more than receptive. He finds you endearing. It's very easy. You just notice the positive reception and immediately lay on the flirtation much thicker, and soon enough you're walking arm in arm around the harbor to show you around... in truth, you've been here before, but playing the clueless foreigner role always endears you to men, and it boosts their ego to feel like they're knowledgeable and helpful.

He falls for your tactics so easily, so it seems. Going along with whatever you want, immediately trying to placate you when you're mean and cold, bending to your will when you insinuate that you'll leave if he doesn't do this or that.

And he has so much money. You weren't expecting to score this lucky. You're not even sure where he's getting it from, it seems like he just keeps pulling it out of nowhere. Every time you even look at something, he's already pulling out more to buy it for you, all day long, until you go back to get a place at a nearby inn.

Of course, it's mutually understood and unspoken that with these sorts of exchanges, he's supposed to get sex out of it. That much you're willing to give, it would admittedly be difficult even for you to keep extracting money from men if you didn't at least put out eventually.

Often times it's disappointing, but thankfully this one is good in bed too. You feel like you couldn't get any luckier.

He feels the same way. Who would have thought that the same girl that all those used, discarded, distraught men pleaded about in prayers to their god, would show up yet again in this place, and such convenient timing too.

You've caused a good deal of both financial ruin and heartbreak alike, and he doesn't take too well to your promiscuity either. It would be an injustice to allow you to simply get away without due punishment.

Keeping you works out well. Those men who wanted revenge will at least have their prayers answered, you will be unable to wreck any more lives, and he gets a little gem in the rough, so to speak. Something that just has to be broken apart and fixed with enough effort, slowly worked into something perfect to own. It's more fun that way.

So he stays silent when you suddenly disappear, when you turn cold, when you brush him off. It's actually both good and bad for you— usually they get so angry, so it's good he wasn't too attached, but the pitiful ones usually let you extract just a bit more in hopes of getting you back, and you're actually rather frustrated when he just lets you leave, you huff and go back to your hotel, this time unfortunately having to pay for it.

But then, you're a little bewildered when you wake up somewhere different than where you fell asleep, somewhere you're unfamiliar with. You panic when you find yourself bound to the bed by a chain on your ankle. You panic worse when you see him looking over you, that malevolent grin — did he always have those teeth?

Yes, it's so adorable when your eyes well up with tears. He did like you in the first place for how cute you are, after all. You'll be a lot cuter when you cry — something he'll have plenty of opportunities to watch in the very near future.

[rerefundslocals]

Slow motion [jjk]

Summary: you only wish to love jungkook for as long as the world allows you to.

>>pairing: idol!jungkook x fem!reader

>>trope: exes to lovers

>>genre: angst,smut,fluff.

>>word count: I'll add later

>>warnings/tags: feelings discussed, arguments, shyreader, Dom!jungkook, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, backshots, dirty talk,petnames, spit kink, aftercare <3(lmk if I missed anything)

a/n- a recommended song is slow motion by Don toliver ft. Wizkid. Show love through likes, reblogs,comments and asks. Keeps authors very motivated<3 enjoy!! + this is not proofread and a repost.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Did anyone see you?" You sigh out as you walk towards the door of your apartment.

Jungkook, by the door undresses as he removes his Nike puffer jacket and ridding himself of his shoes as well ; left in his shirt and sweatpants, he only walks closer to you, grabbing your hand as he leads you to your couch ignoring your question completely.

"I had a long day, skip the questions,___." He groans out as he lays back on your pink velvet sofa,pulling you on his lap.

You simultaneously lay your head on his chest carefully as you hear his heart softly beat in his chest. "I just wanted to know." You mumble.

"It's okay. Did you eat?" He asks, hands rubbing the small of your back as he makes his way to your ass, rubbing at the flesh, clothed by your flowy dress.

You only sigh as you trace the patterns on his tattooed arm, reeling in the silence and the comfort of your ex-boyfriends arms.

It wasn't always so sullen between you two. You always believed that you'd be more happy if you were able to love Jungkook freely without having to sign heaps of papers and worry about publicity.

But that was not the reality of this relationship. Though you did try to get through that phase, it only teared down your relationship. Having to book private dates and seeing each other atleast two times every month. Three if you were lucky.

It was bad enough that your relationship went public, and when it did, it was your worst nightmare having spent two years of your relationship with Jungkook private and signing nda's .

From the Twitter comments and Jungkook having to face the worst times during his lives. You had decided to end things with him after three years of bliss. He took it hard and so did you.

Days turned into Weeks, and weeks turned into months ; that's when Jungkook decided that despite being broken up, he will find every way to meet with you, and kiss you, touch you, tell you he loves you as if you two were still together.

That's what leads you here, on his warm lap, soaking in the little time you had left as the company would be livid if they knew Jungkook left work to go straight to you.

He wonders why you have yet to answer his question, but he doesn't let it bother him. You probably had a long day too.

"Baby, are you hungry yet?" He finally asks. Head leaning down to get a better view of your face.

Feeling wary and skeptical, you look up at him, finally responding to him. "I'm really trying to be nice...but Kook, you should be gone right now. I'm scared you'll get in trouble." You pick at your nails, head hanging low.

He immediately responds. And it is not in a nice tone. "You and this fucking worrying of yours. If I wanted to be gone I would be right now." He scoffs out. Ever so gently removing you off his lap, warm hands ridding themselves of your ass.

"If you want me gone. I'll do just that."

You're quick to scramble to your feet, fluffy socks meeting your wooden floor as you follow him to your door.

"Kook, wait- I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that..but I'm just scared okay? Please understand that." You softly say.

Jungkook turns to look at you, eyes showing the clear emotion of sadness. Your heart clenches at the sight of a sad Jungkook and you reach your hand into his, engulfing in the warmth of his bigger limb.

"You're the reason we never worked out. You know that?" He asks, his hand tightly engulfed in yours.

Your brows furrow as you frown at him, "w-what do you mean,Kook? I broke us up because it was best for you. I did it for you." He chuckles, and it's not jolly or happy.

"You did it for me? Are you fucking crazy? I put my foot in this relationship when everything was going haywire,___. I tried and tried to fight for this. I am sorry that you're too weak to render that in your brain. But I love you. I do love you and I wish you weren't so selfish all the time ; because you know deep down in your heart that you want this. You love me like I love you. So cut the shit and forget the company and the nda's, the fans too. Just focus on you and I. That's all I want."

"Its harder than that." You mumble shyly and Jungkook loses it completely.

"What's fucking hard?! What is huh?!" He growls, "Tell me,___!" He finishes, chest heaving with anger. Completely unfazed that you flinched at his voice raising higher.

It's a stare off now, as you and him stare intensly in each other's eyes.

It's then you decide, that maybe he is right and that you can trust him, hope that everything would be better..if you just shut the world out, that being the company, his fans and the contracts.

Your eyes soften as you walk closer into jungkooks personal space, your arms wrapping around his waist as you hug him, your hair being mushed by his chest.

Jungkook sighs at the sight, eyes looking down at you as he contemplates hugging you back. "Touch me, please." You plee.

"Will you shut me out when we're done hugging?" He chuckles playfully.

You chuckle along with him, chests vibrating against each other, "I won't. Because I love you and I want this to work no matter what, Kook."

"I love you so much." You whisper once more, as you lift your head, frail fingers going up to caress his cheek.

Now on your tippy toes, you lean up for a kiss that Jungkook responds too, as he latches both your lips in a loving kiss. Lips moving in sync, as his hands come to wrap around your waist, fingers fighting the urge to grab the flesh of your ass.

The kiss becomes more feverish than it was softer as you let out moans into Jungkooks mouth and he groans jn response when you tug at his hair, "mhm - fuck, baby." He let's out as he props off your mouth for a second.

You continue to make out by your door while you peel off Jungkooks clothes, from his shirt to his sweats, leaving him naked in front on you since he did not wear underwear, though you don't question it.

"Hold on, baby." His lips leave yours as he tries to remove your dress from off your body and over your head.

Left with your thong, you lean down to pull it off and kick it somewhere in the kitchen.

With so much frustration to let out, Jungkook wastes no time lifting you up as you curl your legs around his waist, leading you both to your bedroom.

It's everything jungkook has seen before. From the Polaroids of you with family and friends hanging on the wall and the pastel pink wallpaper on your walls.

"Get on the bed, your back facing me and arch your back." The tone is instructive more than it is demanding and it radiates pleasure onto you, making you unbelievably wet for him. So you do comply and do just as he says.

Foreplay has never been one for yours and Jungkooks sex life, As much as Jungkook loves getting his dick sucked and you loving the pleasure from getting eaten out, you both just love to feel each other and be binded as one with no time to waste.

He wants to feel you squeeze around him and he wants to fill you up so good. Maybe after that would he eat you out and same with sucking him off.

Now he lines up with your hole, slowly inserting thr tip of his hard cock, precum leaking.

You both audibly moan in sync when he fully enters, slow and teasing thrusts at first.

You whine pitifully as you shake your ass as to pry Jungkook to move faster."Jungkook please."

"I know,baby, I know." He teases with a sly smirk that you can't really see from behind.

He complies with you, moving faster as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his pre cum fill the room.

Along with your moans and jungkooks low but raspy moans that have you curling your toes, you become a leaking faucet, getting tighter around his cock.

"Mm- fuck! You're so tight, baby." Jungkook moans, "keep squeezing my cock, baby."

It's a sloppy mess now as your moans sound like cries now, high pitched, whiny much and loud. Very loud.

Your poor neighbors :(

You squeeze tighter around him when he slaps your ass quite a few times, groping at the flesh when he let's go. Jungkook quietly groans at the tight fit. "Wan' me to squeeze you just like that?" You coyly remind him.

"Hmh, just like that, baby." He replies, a breath of relief is what it sounds like.

You feel your high approaching when your stomach coils tighter and tighter and tears pool at your eyes, one leaking from your left eye and onto your cheek.

What a sight.

Jungkook pulls you with your hair and onto his chest, his thrusts sloppier at this new angle.

"So pretty." He presses a kiss onto your cheek. He forces your mouth open with his free hand that isn't gripping your right ass cheek, leaning forward to spit a glob of saliva into your mouth.

"You gonna be a good girl and swallow? Hmm?"

You only swallow in response, feeling the warm spit go down your throat. You like it, quite tasty to you, everything about him is tasty.

"Fuck- I-im cumming, Kook!" You exclaim, feeling your knees go weak.

"That's it, baby. Soak my dick."

And on cue, you cum undone on his cock, jungkook moaning along with you as he spills into your hole.

The sticky white substance, thick and messy in your tiny hole.

You fall limply onto the bed when Jungkook let's go of your hair, and he gets up to get a warm cloth to clean you up.

"You Okay, baby?" He questions when he's done wiping you clean and covering you up.

You lazily nod at him, smile playing on your lips. "You did not say you loved me back, earlier on."You playfully tease.

Jungkook chuckles in response, running his hands through his hair for the first time today.

"Wellll," He drags, "you didn't exactly give me that chance since you kissed me crazy."

"I'm giving you a chance now. And come lay with me!" You whine.

"Okayyy, fine woman! I love you so so much." He hops in the bed beside you, pulling you close to his chest immediately. Desperate to feel you on him. "That's what I like to hear." You kiss his chest and he kisses your head above you too.

"I love you,too."

[anton-luvr]

You just took a shower with seunghan. He gets between your legs so you could dry his hair, your neck catching his attention. (Suggestive in a way but only bc they are in towels + soft pants and moaning??)

# 10:06pm ; HONG SEUNGHAN.

⚝ bf!seunghan x fem!reader | fluff & HEAVILY suggestive | bf au ⚝ note ; this is so... (mouth waters) UGH thank u for requesting!! thank u for waiting and for ur support on all my works too mwah <3 + take care briizes!! hani will come back to us soon, i'm sure <3

Six weeks.

That's how long the doctor told Seunghan his broken arm would be casted for.

"Six weeks?" he echoed in despair, mind flooding with the realization of all the things he wouldn't be able to do.

He wouldn't be able to play his games, wouldn't be able to eat his favorite instant noodles by himself every day, wouldn't be able to properly cuddle you at night - he wouldn't be able to do almost anything.

He really shouldn't have tried that stupid parkour trick with Sohee.

But thankfully, he had you by his side to help him out.

And maybe, not being able to do anything was quite nice after all.

He's sat on the edge of the bathtub, both of you fresh out of a shower and only in warm towels while you ran a hair-dryer over his damp hair.

"Ah, be gentle with the tangles." he whines, wincing when you accidentally tug at one.

You're quick to apologize with a cheery 'Sorry!', and you lean down to kiss him on the cheek.

All grumpiness fades once he feels your soft lips against his warm skin, a smile appearing on his lips.

Seunghan sighs happily as you continue drying his hair, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, and he can't help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to have you.

You've been taking care of him ever since his fall, absolutely spoiling him with princess treatment.

He's really so lucky to have you.

He opens his eyes to tell you just that, but something else distracts him immediately.

Your bare neck was right in front of him, droplets of water falling from your wet hair and landing gracefully on your collarbone. He gulps as he watches them slowly slip downwards and behind your wrapped towel.

It was embarrassing how easily and simply turned on he gets, and all just from your neck.

"You look so pretty." he mumbles, leaning forward to press soft kisses all over the exposed skin.

You giggle at the ticklish feeling, but it's quick to turn into a quiet whine as the kisses start to get more aggressive.

Seunghan spares absolutely no mercy, warm tongue and sharp teeth grazing against that one sensitive part of your neck that sends shudders throughout your body.

"My pretty girl," he mutters, grinning as he pulls you into his lap and continuing his work of art.

Soft moans and whines reverberate across the bathroom as his hands start to travel across your body, your own ones busy tugging at Seunghan's hair.

"You're driving me insane." he pants, his eyes dark with desperate need and pretty lips swollen when he pulls away to catch his breath. "Taking care of me so well, gotta thank you."

The desperation only grows as he crashes his lips against yours, the towel being the only barrier between the both of your bodies heightening the desperation.

You felt so close and yet so far, and Seunghan needed more.

"W-Wait," you stutter, gently pushing him away from you. "Let's move to the bedroom, I'm scared you'll slip or something and get hurt."

Seunghan can't help but chuckle at your sweet and caring comment in the midst of his sinful actions, kissing over one of the hickeys he had left earlier.

"My baby is so cute," he coos, hot breath fanning against your ear. "But don't worry for now. I'll take care of you the way you deserve, hm?"

Your head spins at what he's hinting at, nodding while hiding your red face on his shoulder.

Without another word, Seunghan carries you up with his other arm and takes you into your bedroom - where he was going to thank you for taking care of him in the best way possible.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart @lycheecheeseyogurt

[woso-dreamzzz]

Colic

Pernille Harder x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You develop colic

Magda returns to England after six weeks.

She would have stretched it longer but there were Champion's League fixtures starting up again and she needed to be there to keep the Chelsea girls in check.

So, after six weeks, it's just you and Pernille.

For the most part, you're a calm baby. You don't do much. You cry, you eat, you sleep. Sometimes, if you're feeling particularly active, you try to pull Pernille's fingers into your mouth and suck on them.

You're practically an angel baby...Though you're quite firmly attached to your Momma.

She can't set you down for a nap until you're fully asleep otherwise you'll cry and whine until you can see her again. She can't let other people hold you without being nearby otherwise you panic. There's not a moment that goes by where you don't want to be attached to her.

You're almost equally attached to Magda but it's still a pretty easy transition for you to lean fully into Pernille being your remaining caregiver.

It also means though, that with Magda returning to England, Pernille also returns to training. She's not ready to join the team just yet, not so soon after your birth so she's just gone back to light training.

For the first day back, she had wanted to be well rested but you seemed to have caught a case of colic so were crying for hours on end all night.

You're still whiney and tearful, rhythmically sucking on your dummy (one of the only things that Pernille can use to get you to stop sobbing) when she pulls up at the training centre.

The staff members suitably coo at you before Pernille escapes into the gym. It's mostly empty apart from the trainer that's working with her as the other girls are out training on the pitch.

Thankfully for Pernille, you've slipped off to sleep as she begins her workout.

She's completely exhausted, bags under her eyes and movements sluggish as she uses the machines.

"Rough night?" The trainer asks.

She gives him a tight smile. "She got colic. She wouldn't stop crying until four in the morning." She spares a glance over at you. "We're lucky that she's tired too otherwise we wouldn't even be able to do half of this."

The trainer laughs, clapping Pernille on the back. "My wife and I had our son a few years back. Colic doesn't last forever."

"It feels like it does."

They share a laugh just as the other girls fill into the room.

"Pernille!" Pajor cheers," You're back!"

Pernille drops her weights. "I'm back."

More girls flood in and move to crowd around where you're napping. It's the first time for a lot of them that they've seen you in person. Of course, everyone had known you were born and had seen the picture on the group chat but never in person.

"She's beautiful," Popp compliments as she crouches down to look at you," She's so, so beautiful. Like an angel."

"When she isn't crying, she is," Pernille replies.

The crowd swells for a moment as she moves through and picks you up, swaddling you up tightly in your oversized baby blanket. Everyone coos and looks like they're moments away from snatching you from her arms.

"Alright," She says eventually," Are your hands clean? You can all have a quick hold before we go."

A line forms quickly, girls pushing each other to try to edge forward.

"Just quick holds," Pernille says," She's been very tearful lately. I don't want her to wake up in someone else's arms and start crying."

Thankfully, you stay asleep all through your holds and all through the car ride. It's at home where everything falls apart.

You spit out your dummy and screech and whine and sob even when you're safe in Pernille's arms.

You scream so much that your little cheeks turn an alarming shade of red and Pernille paces the length of her apartment to try to soothe you to no avail.

She tries feeding you, setting you down for a nap, changing you but nothing works.

"Please," She says softly, feeling exhausted and utterly broken and thinking about just how unfair it is that Magda's away in England while she's hanging on by a thread with a colicky baby that just won't stop crying," Please stop. Please, please, please."

But you don't stop. You reject your dummy. You reject a feed. You reject all comfort and you scream and cry until you're red in the face and gagging over your own tears.

Pernille starts crying too. From frustration. From exhaustion. From genuine despair over the fact that you haven't stopped crying for hours.

She thinks about calling Magda after nearly two and a half hours but there's nothing Magda can do to help but offer kind words and encouragement and, if that had happened, Pernille's ninety percent sure she would have snapped viciously at her partner without explanation.

So, it's just you (you who's screaming and crying and nearly throwing up) and Pernille (who's crying and pacing and trying to soothe you to no avail).

"Please," Pernille sobs as you continue to scream, your lips taking on a slightly blue tinge from the lack of oxygen you're getting," Oh, please, princesse."

She does another lap of the apartment. She checks to see if you need to be changed. She tries to feed you. She tries to get you to nap.

"Okay, okay, we're going to try this, alright?"

Pernille wipes her own tears away as she starts to run the bath, stripping both herself and you down and sliding into the water. You lay on her chest as she slowly pours lukewarm water over your back as her other hand gently rubs at your head.

You didn't have much hair (and her doctor had assured her that a lot of your wispy baby hair would fall out soon) but it was enough that Pernille could brush against it as you lay on her.

Your face is still scrunched up, a little crinkle between your brows, but you've stopped crying. You coo as more water runs down your back and you finally look up at Pernille, your eyes no longer glassy or tearful.

Curiously, you reach up and poke at her mouth with you little fingers.

Pernille smiles down at you, playfully biting at them before she readjusts.

Your lips are back to a normal colour again and your red cheeks are fading.

She sighs in relief.

"Why are you crying so much, huh?" She teases," Do you miss your Morsa? Is that what it is? I miss her too but we've got each other to look after now, alright? We're gonna be okay, princesse. It's all going to be okay."

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Injured and Perverse

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 5.3k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mild injury, smut, handjobs, mutual masturbation, slight innocence kink

Notes: This is literally all @dipperscavern fault for just bringing Jon up in the tags of one of her own asks. I wrote this all in one sitting so I apologize for how deranged it is. Not really important, but the dynamic between Jon and the reader is based off of my characters from Heart of the Great Wolf, and by the end you'll understand why. But knowing that fic isn't necessary to understand this. Main Series Masterlist Here

As if things hadn’t been difficult enough, now this came into his mind.

Jon just leaned against the stone wall by his window, arm holding up his right hand as it was still firmly wrapped up to the point he couldn’t move even his fingers from the position. It was his fault. A mistake when pushing himself perhaps a little too hard during training out in the yard and now it was coming to a fortnight since he had lost use of his sword hand.

Jon could count himself lucky that he was skilled enough with his left hand that most things would still be doable for the weeks he’d spend with only one. Or, that was what Maester Luwin had tried to comfort Jon with. He appreciated it at the time, but now it was a problem that only Jon had and he couldn’t figure out how to solve. And certainly he couldn’t bring it up to people.

The summer air had warmed itself up enough that it melted away what was left of the recent summer snow, meaning that not as many layers needed to be worn to stay as warm. You had been wearing much lighter dresses and in brighter colours too. Some of them must have been new, Jon didn’t recall seeing them on you before but they were beautiful. On you at least they were beautiful.

A true sight that he couldn’t get over, grey eyes growing dark following your sight across the courtyards and unable to help himself with that feeling again.

The same one he couldn’t do anything about. It had put Jon on edge, made him a bit shorter with people. A bit more temperamental, and easily frustrated by things. It could be attributed to his broken hand, which it was and most knew, but it was really one specific act he could not do that he desperately needed. You were in Winterfell, and beautiful and in breezy fabrics that framed you like some sort of goddess sent to torment him.

What should’ve been a good chance to force Jon to ease up, had only made things much more difficult to handle and worst of all, you noticed. Most noticed his mood, but you were the one who was the most concerned about it and he had a limited amount of time to come up with an excuse that he knew you’d buy without a doubt. You had told him once you were finished your duties for the night, you would come to his chambers to check up on him.

Only that time ran out quicker then he thought, and his eyes grew wide with worry when a knock was heard at his door and your sweet voice muffled through it, “Jon?” Swallowing roughly, his eyes closed for only as long as it took to say the words, a bit deeper then he meant to spit them out, telling you to come in.

You hadn’t changed from the same pretty dress you wore that day, you had finished what you were doing and came right too him. The sweetness of the gesture drove Jon utterly mad thinking about how concerned you truly were. Muttering your name, he tried to cross his arms over his chest more casually, but could not hide the clench in his jaw.

Stepping closer without thought, you looked as if you wanted to reach out to him physically. “Are you alright?” Looking back towards you with a brow raised in a more playful manner, you looked away trying to smother a smirk before returning back with something much more flat yet clever in your own eyes. “I meant specifically right now.”

Grinning look falling a bit, Jon shrugged a shoulder as his head turned mindlessly to the side away from you. “As good as I can be.” Stepping closer, you gestured to his hand asking if it was hurting more then usual and Jon felt his bones shake. Something certainly hurt more then usual but this was not a problem he could bring to you of all people.

His innocent best friend, his sweet and beautiful best friend that he had been in love with since the moment he laid his eyes on you across the courtyard. Worse off, your hands as they reached out to him more, he could only think about how small they were. In comparison to his own for sure, but certainly in contrast to what else he was thinking of. Soft and smooth, despite the hard work you put into everything you still had the dainty little hands of a highborn girl and suddenly his mind was filled with vile images of ruining that innocent look.

You didn’t however look like you believed his words. Stepping closer those small hands rested against his other arm, trying to implore you to look back at him. “Jon, you’ve been more off lately.” About to point out the obvious, you cut him off more seriously then he was going to distract the subject with. “More then normal about this. Something the past few days is bothering you and I just want to help.”

He shouldn’t have said it, he should’ve kept his mouth shut and frustrated you enough that you’d give up on the issue. But he didn’t, he said it out loud in a rough mutter. “You can’t help with this.” Asking with what, Jons jaw clenched more harshly as he turned his head to the side. Your hands still against him trying to get his attention as you said his name again. Jon only repeated your name in a warning you did not take.

Your own hand reached up to run gentle across the facial hair along his jaw trying to prompt him to look at you, but Jon only used his left hand to reach up and snatch your wrist. Your head jolting back in suprise as Jon turned with darker eyes to look at you. An apology stumbling from you, wanting to step away from his personal space if only Jon let go of your wrist. “I’m sorry, I was only-”

“You wanted to know if there was something you could do.” Nodding, he knew you were nervously biting down against your tongue to keep a straight face. Sighing, his grip loosened so that he didn’t hold you so tightly, but he did certainly keep you in his hand even as it lowered to your side. Almost toying with your fingers somewhat as he looked down to meet your eyes. “You can’t help with this, darling. It- this is something I can’t...resolve until my hands better.”

“Why?” Looking over him with narrowed confusion in your eyes, Jon said nothing but met your gaze as you tried to connect the dots. Your green eyes flickered down to his injured hand and back up as your eyes widened as your lips parted in a silent stammer. “Oh.”

Swallowing roughly, Jon felt a mixture of frustration and embarrassment come over him. This part of himself wasn’t supposed to be showed to you, you were too innocent to be privy to his perverted mind and yet as if to torture him, your eyes almost as if trying to fully put the concept together let your gaze flicker down a bit further then just his injured hand.

Rasping low, Jon still hadn’t let go of you. “I told you, you can’t help me with this.”

The degree to which you cared about Jon was immeasurable though, because in the shyest tone he’d heard on you since you were still a girl came over. A nervousness painted over your eyes and bleeding into your expression with a softness as you peered back up to his gaze. “What if I could?” Jons face twisted in almost a disbelief in what you would’ve been trying to say, as you got somehow more nervous as you continued. “What..if I helped you..you know..feel better...”

Your free hand twitched at your side as if wondering if to move yet, but Jon felt his blood freeze over before bursting into flames and enveloping him. The sheer insinuation had his cock throb already and that time he was pretty sure you looked back down again before meeting his eyes. Saying your name lowly, he let go of your hand. Jon would’ve stepped back to put space were he not leaning against the wall. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

Wringing them back together between you, you tried to look confident through the nerves. “I do. I..” Sighing deeply you tried to keep your resolve together. “I came here wanting to know if there was anything I could do to help you, and now I know a way that could help you feel better.”

Looking down with more of a frown to you, Jon wished he didn’t feel so hard looking at your nervous gaze. “No.” He was the conflicted one, because he desperately wanted what you were suggesting but to do so would tread far too close into exposing how much he felt for you, and too getting you to do something a lady shouldn’t for a man she wasn’t married too, let alone a bastard. And yet that conflict came out much more abrupt and angry then he meant towards you.

Stepping back a step, your face glazed over with something both apologetic and fearful. “I- I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have...I didn’t meant to pressure you into..” Turning away Jon knew you were about to flea from his room, so his free hand suddenly moved as his whole body did.

Pushing off the wall and grabbing at your arm, twisting you in place to get you to look up at him with a much softer gaze meeting. Saying your name, he let his free hand reach up to run somewhat along the loose strands of hair by the side of your head while letting that hand border on tenderly cupping your cheek. “I didn’t mean-” Closing his eyes to sigh out deeply, Jon wondered just how to rephrase this mess his attitude had caused. Looking back at you, your hands back to sitting together toying with the fingers on the other hand in an anxious manner. “You didn’t do anything wrong by offering, but this isn’t why I wanted you here. It’s not your duty to do those sort of things for my sake.”

Trying to push passed the embarrassment, your tone took on a bit of frustration of your own. “I didn’t offer because of that...I just..don’t like seeing you this way.” Asking specifically in what way, you yourself that time shyly tried to almost glance down to what you both were talking around and then over to nothing as you became much more flustered. “In..any way like this. I just want to do something for you...make you feel better...”

That free hand against your cheek moved much firmer now to let his thumb run over the soft skin as he leaned more down towards you with a hushed tone. “You don’t have to, you don’t ever have to do things like this for me, for any man.”

As if a wave of bravery rushed between the overwhelming shy nerves, your hands very slowly moved as your voice spoke. “I’m not doing it for any man...I’m doing it for you..”

Without any other words, the air between you was thick. Your small hands reaching out, easy as Jon stood in his minimal softer layers, you reached for the laces of his breeches right away. Never looking away as if needing to focus, Jon watched between your hands at work and your nervous eyes. One lace, then other he felt the fabric against him loosen, and so did his cock get even harder now with the freedom to do so.

Letting the hand on your cheek drop to hold at your waist, Jon knew the look in your eyes was something loud and anxious as you undid it enough to begin somewhat. Your hands shaking he muttered your name, but you shook your head. The only sounds the wind against his window and the flickering of flames somewhere behind you both, not even your breaths could yet be heard.

Ever so slowly, did you open the fabric and pull his breeches down enough to be able to freely reach your hand in. There was no going back for you once you did so, you and Jon would tread into something two friends never should engage in, let alone a bastard letting a beautiful highborn girl do, but he didn’t stop you. In fact, he knew you felt his cock twitch somewhat the moment your small hand tried to wrap around him.

Not much of your expression changed, save for a heavy swallow at what you found only through touch so far. You couldn’t even wrap your hand around his length, there was a thickness, a girth that you didn’t realize Jon had. The hand on your waist grew firm, and his eyes dark but he never looked away from you. Slowly you had to shyly use both hands to carefully pull his cock out and he could see that time your face shift even more as you realized too his length.

He knew you weren’t familiar with this part of a mans body, but you were a smart well leaned girl. You knew enough of the male form to know Jons size was larger then what would call average, in both manners and you hadn’t expected it at all. Your hands burned against his cock, both gently holding along his length more by the base but not moving yet.

Muttering your name, you slowly shook your head biting down against your lip for a split second. “I-uhm..”

Leaning down more towards you, Jons rasp was as soothing as could be, as if you weren’t standing in his chambers gently holding his hard length in your hands. “Darling, listen to me. We can stop right now if you don’t want to do this.”

Biting harder against your lip you shook your head. Barley a mutter, you tried looking up to meet his eyes but looked away from what was clearly too overwhelming. Looking into your best friends eye as you were about to get him off might be too much for your innocent self to handle. “No, I just...I’ve never done this before...”

Was a smile the right response? Jon wasn’t sure but it’s what he did anyways. A handsome look that had him try to lean down to meet your eyes more. It wasn’t a question, more of a general statement he knew the answer too already. “You’ve never seen a man like this before.” But you still answered with a shake of your head, slowly trying to move your hand a little more against his length, Jon let the hand on your waist come back up to your cheek. Not making you look up at him, but keeping a tender hold. “You’re starting well, get used to it first. You don’t have to be scared, not of me.” You nodded, a heavy weight in his heart that you knew that but all of this was so new to you.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, Jon then slunk that same hand to grab at your left one. Moving you with him, did Jon wrap your hand as much as he could get you around his cock, his larger hand hiding yours only to pull back and reveal how small they looked against his size. About to say something else with a gentle prompt, Jon cut himself off with a held back groan turned deep exhale as you suddenly moved.

Gently stoking along his length, you were slow with a light touch. Afraid to hold him too tight or move too fast as if Jon himself wasn’t rough and unkind when he was alone. You wouldn’t know that, but until right now, too you didn’t know that Jon would’ve ever wanted you anywhere near his cock. Today was a day of many new things though.

Jon let you explore at first. Getting used to the feeling of his cock heavy in your hand, running along his length trying to find a grip that was comfortable or natural, before slowly running back to the base. Barley brushing your hand up against the coarse hair at the base of his cock, you hesitated. Too you clearly hadn’t realized that was there, and Jon knew for a fact you were aware he caught how you tried to look. Instead, your small hand ran along his length down to his lip before back again.

Slow and steady pumps, but so gentle beyond what any man would take with himself. His voice near startled you, even in the notable silence between you both. “Like this.” Reaching his left to awkwardly try and move your hand more, he guided you to lift your thumb from its place. “Run it over a bit.”

Hovering over the top of his cock you hesitated, suddenly looking up to his eyes with such a trusting ask for guidance. “You mean-”

Cutting you off he nodded, pressing down against your thumb to prompt you to move, you let it run over the tip of his cock, the feeling of what of his seed had already leaked out being ran along his hip as Jon shuddered at the feeling. Before you could even get the words out, deep his voice was as Jon reassured you. “You’re going so good..”

His hand dropped to your waist again, grip much more tight and possessive. As if wanting to get you to hold him the same, and his voice rasped out as such. “Hold me tighter.” Your brows furrowed, but Jon continued. “Tighter darling. Tighter then that.” Your eyes kept looking at his, Jon keeping the gaze deep into his as he rasped. “Be rough with me, it’s alright.”

Nodding, you did tighten your grip and Jons muscles tensed everywhere at the feeling of pleasure rushing through him. Slowly did you begin to move your hand up and down Jons thick cock, and your gazes only flickering between each other and the sight between you. Trying to almost reassure yourself, so new to any of this you asked, “Is this better?”

It slipped out without any form of a filter. A growl more letting the words come up with from deep in his chest. “Fuck, you feel so good...” You flustered much more, but didn’t waver. More and more you stroked his cock, the feeling so much better then any before. Doing it to himself was nothing compared to how your hand felt against him. Holding your waist tighter Jon stepped closer to you. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Shaking your head again, Jon read the no as in no you never have, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. His forehead resting against yours, his breathing begun to pick up as his hand on your waist tightened further. “You’re perfect...”

Perfect at this act? In general? Jon meant both and couldn’t bring himself to care about what you might get from that. Firmer you held him as if the more pleasure he got, the more confident you got. Strokes more consistent, and you held him nice and tight just the way he needed. Moving back to run your thumb along his tip before letting the seed there run over your palm to ease the rawness you stroked him with.

As if knowing what to do by instinct, the more worked up you made him feel the faster you ran up and down his cock. The more black his eyes got along with yours as a wonder came to your features. Running up to your cheek he cupped the back of your neck more firmly. “Fuck..ease up..” Your eyes peering up at him in question, his tried to look soft but were overblown by a pure lust as he explained himself with a husk in his breathless voice. “If you keep squeezing my cock like that...”

But you experimented more, tighter and running along his length faster and faster Jon groaned and growled in the same breath. “Fuck, you’re going to make me cum..”

The sheer wave of heat blooming through your body at his unrestrained words, you tried to go faster for him. His eyes open now as he demanded your name to look up at him, his jaw clenched and clearly so close to the edge that you didn’t even think to stop or slow down. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t, but Jon found a screaming, howling, clawing sensation dark in his chest to kiss you, but that wasn’t the agreement.

You didn’t agree to a kiss no matter how much Jon wanted to finish with his lips against yours. But keeping your eyes trained only on his as you stroked his cock, Jons cock throbbed in your hand. He should’ve told you you could move your hand away for this, but he didn’t. Some part of him staring deep into your eyes as your hand was wrapped around his cock made Jon unable to look away as he felt his end wash over him.

You never stopped too, a growling groan left his lips, a rasp unashamed of your name erupting from him as he dropped his head to rest against yours. Faster and faster you stroked him, trying to milk every single thick, hot rope of cum from him as his seed soaked your hand. And you simply let him, only watching with parted lips as he came over your hand.

Slowly starting to ease up on the pace, his cock not quite as hard as before did Jon nudge his nose against yours. Never making a further move, but running his along the length almost sweetly as the final waves of his orgasm left him. Your hand now somewhat covered in his seed. Until every last bit of his seed covered your hand, you didn’t stop moving. But not yet letting go.

As if the moment you moved, whatever this was would end and you had no idea what to do when it did, Jon didn’t either but he wasn’t ready for that yet. But Jon knew you, and knew you well. He could predict you like one of those books you would read and reread time and time again until you could recite it with your pretty eyes closed.

You would gently tuck his cock back and do his breeches back up before trying to leave and give him space. But the moment you shifted to do so, Jon did something. Something he knew was a tad obscene, if not immensely obscene and perverted, but he did it anyways. Grabbing your hand with his free one, he didn’t quite have as much movement as he’d want if his sword hand was in use, but it was enough.

Drifting it downward, Jon let his eyes drop to bring your hand and his together down, prompting you to grasp the skirt of your dress and pull it up as he did. One hand instinctively of yours reached down to hold it, but you didn’t expect what he did next.

The hand of yours now soaked, and covered in his own seed, did Jon drag downward beneath the fabric of your dress. Placing your hand down, Jon shifted around until he could press two of your fingers up against your clit. A gasp came from you as you almost jumped in his touch, but Jon gently ran his nose against yours once more to soothe you. Running along in small patterns Jon worked you up, but he knew too another thing about you. That you hadn’t ever done anything like this before yourself. You were too much of a good girl to explore your own body.

But Jon didn’t want you to leave yet. Make you feel as if he used you for your touch and kick you out to pretend everything was normal. He refused to let you feel like you were just a pleasure toy for him, when you were so much more. Even if he was far too afraid to use his words.

A gentle rasp on his lips, he was so close you felt his warm breath dance across your skin. “Stay right like that.” You nodded, your heart no doubt pounding out of your chest. But Jon pulled his hand away, and knelt down. A whine escaped you before you could stop it the moment Jons uninjured hand reached for the edge of your underwear. Looking up, you met his eyes much more nervous to his wife and asking ones.

Slowly, he begun to pull the fabric down. It strained against your other leg somewhat, but gently Jon tugged it down and town until he grabbed at your calf to raise it. “Come on, darling.” Freeing it from one leg then the other, you stood bare in his chamber. Not looking sown, Jon let is thumb run along the material only to exhale roughly at finding it. One specific spot on the fabric was wet, his thumb pressing more into the spot almost running along it the manner he’d graze it against your cheek.

Standing back up, Jon slid the fabric out of your view. Behind him he tucked it away where you couldn’t see. A pocket in his breeches he tucked them away with no shame or want to give them back. Slowly standing back up, Jon didn’t let your nervous gaze linger. Letting your touch stay against your clit, he ran over best he could to see your eyes flutter with a gentle gasp before Jon continued his own path.

Running along where he knew the wetness had come from, he exhaled sharply at feeling you already begun to soak his fingers. Your breathing picked up substantially as your hand held tight at your skirt to keep the material up. Leaning forward, Jon nudged his nose affectionately against yours, his thumb trailing along the back of your hand against your clit to press firmer, and just as you let out a small sound of need, did Jon sink a finger deep inside of you.

The sound wanting to leave you was loud, Jon leaning forward to shush you over and over. You clenched so tightly around just that, slowly dragging it along a sensitive wall you shook against him. Almost all the way out before Jon sunk it deep back inside you again. Feeling you almost soak him more and more as each time you let him push deep right to the knuckle. Rasping in your ear almost mockingly but with something so caring deep inside it’s tone, “You’ve never done anything like this before have you?” Shaking your head no, he continued. “Not even to yourself?” Again, you shook your head no. “You’re way too much of a good girl for that, I know. But it’s alright, you’re not doing anything wrong. I’m the one doing all the work.”

Nodding against him you couldn’t stop clenching around him as your legs shook before he pulled almost all the way out, but then, a second finger joined. The gasp muffled as you his in his neck and dark, loose curls. Both of you could hear how soaking wet you were, each time he sunk deep inside of you. Faster and faster he went, dragging along you and occasionally pressing his thumb up to get you to run your own fingertips against your clit, only able to do so for so long before getting too overwhelmed by Jons own touch.

Your eyes glanced down and noticed though, his cock out and still half hard twitched as he sunk his fingers in and out of your soaking cunt. His own eyes closing with a deep groan as he felt your hand wrap around his thick cock once again, trying to speak but your sweet voice did so first. “Please, Jon..”

He couldn’t say no, not when you had begun running along him again. Having abandoned your clit, Jons left hand didn’t have enough mastery to do both the way his right would but you were enough with his fingers thick deep inside of you sinking in and out. More confident you stroked his cock that time, both of you suddenly meeting the others eyes.

Neither of you said a word, but nor did either of you look away. Dark and lustful Jons blazed down to your needing yet innocent ones that only made him throb in your hand more. Your lips parting as small needing sounds begun to leave, tiny over and over again noises only for Jons ears as you kept his gaze. His barley even changed, dark and almost angry as he felt you draw him another orgasm closer and closer as you begun to clench so tightly around him that he picked up the pace best he could.

Shaking in his touch, Jon felt you break. Suddenly a flow of your wetness came over his fingers and part of his hand as you still kept his gaze. Trying to keep such whines and begs only to his ears as Jon growled. His end following yours once more soaking your hand as you did his own.

Both of you with heaving breaths still looking to one another, Jon finally pulled from your tight soaking cunt. His eyes looked to how lewd it looked the way you covered his fingers and seven hells did Jon have the strongest urge to have a taste, but your eyes were nervous suddenly. Coming down from the feeling, he knew pushing you too much wasn’t the right choice. Instead only halfway turned to grab something soft against his desk you caught his hand partway back.

Making it easy to clean his hand as you did the work for him, before taking it from him. Shy as you did the same to yourself before sitting it off to the side. Not yet moving. Tilting your chin up so Jon could meet your eyes, his hand ran across your bottom lip then over to your cheek. Asking the same qestion you did, the moment you had walked in here unknowing of the debauchery about to take place. “Are you alright?”

Nodding meekly, Jon ran his thumb over your cheek some more before tilting your head down. Firmly pressing his lips to your forehead, Jon felt you begin to part from him the moment he pulled back. Only watching you gently as you made your way to his door. Calling out to you, once again wanting to ensure you weren’t upset, but you turned with a bit of a bright gaze with something hopeful behind them. “Do..” Looking away, you bit your lip before finding the right words. “Do you want me to..help you again tomorrow night? Just until you’re better?”

Jon smiled earnestly, something he was hoping you could tell from there was love as he looked at you. “Only if you’re comfortable with that.”

You just shyly nodded, before a small, “Goodnight, Jon.” Left your lips. Jon returned the words with something much more openly soft towards you before his door closed behind you, leaving him in the silence of his fireplace.

Looking back down to his broken hand, Jon wasn’t in the open space of his room anymore. But leaning against the wall in a corner to keep himself more upright. His uninjured hand on his cock, with more energy spent trying to alleviate that burning need in his system then normal. His left was nowhere near as satisfying as he could do with his right, and to even finish at all, Jon had to wind up getting himself off to a fantasy about you.

About his beautiful, sweet, and innocent best friend coming into his chambers and stroking his cock just to help him feel better, because he couldn’t even do it himself with any satisfaction now. Maybe though, this fantasy didn’t have a lack of merit. You’d come to visit him tomorrow night again too, just in the same world of his wanting imagination then in reality.

Jon had the feeling it was going to be a long few weeks of recovery ahead of him.

[vxnuslogy]

forever. — ft. aventurine

— warnings: slight spoilers to the current trailblaze mission.

— author's note: in celebration of (almost) aventurine day have this short drabble i made in school inspired by the song forever by noah kahan. also happy 100 followers <3

aventurine was afraid of many things, one of them was “finality.” there's too much uncertainty and boredom affiliated with it. ever since he joined the IPC his life has been everything but boring. everyday he travels from one world to another making high stake deals that could cost him more than he expects, but he still pursued those stakes because who was he if not the ever cocky and lucky peacock of the stonehearts.

but recently, he's come to understand that “finality” — forever per your terms — wasn’t so bad. because to you, forever meant the countless possibilities that the world could throw at you unexpectedly. the limitless joys that can be found in every corner of the galaxy just sitting there waiting to be found.

aventurine wonders if he's one of those many joys you've witnessed; because you were certainly one of his.

how could he ever forget that one fine evening in one of his travels when he just happen to be stuck in a storm and coincidentally bumped into you, looking so breathtakingly out of this world. the many tours you took him on the day after, the shopping trips in the local and fancy markets of the planet in the weeks to come, and not to forget when you laid yourself bare to him under the promises of the many stars that hung from the sky.

“i wouldn't mind staying here forever,” aventurine wonders what that would be like, to settle down in this humble little world with you by his side. “but there's still so much i haven't seen yet — so many things you haven't seen yet. so the next time we bump into each other, let's get drunk at the tavern again.”

forever was once a burden to aventurine, but under that night sky his initial idea of forever took a turn because it wasn't a sentence to death; it was a gift he received from you.

“you're going to meet someone special in the middle of july,” his younger peared at him curiously. “they're going to show you one of the many joys the galaxy has to offer. you'll tell them that they're broke but still have so much richness in their heart.” he chuckles fondly when your face flashed in his mind, the times of when you slung a drunken arm over his shoulder and gave him another drink. “even after seeing every broken bone in your body they'll just laugh it off and say that it'll heal with them around.”

kakavasha smiled at the fondness on his older self’s face. the same purple eyes with rings of cyan stared at him when he kneeled down and patted his head. “and on the night of the final day on july, in a drunken haze, you'll say “my grip on you might loosen - you're not meant to be caged in one place - but i won't ever let you go.”

“why won't you let go of them?” kakavasha asked with a tilt of his head. aventurine only smiled and ruffled the younger boy's hair, “because they made the confident claim that we wouldn't be alone for the rest of our live with them by our side.”

aventurine used to believe that forever meant being sentenced to death, but forever also meant for as long as possible. he wouldn't mind being sentenced to forever as long as it was with you.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[silverynight]

The nurse and the pro hero

Izuku gets a little bit startled by the chaos outside; by what he can see from behind reception, there are four pro heroes struggling at the other side of the entrance.

He's ready to go out and help, but the head nurse puts a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"They're not in trouble, we are," she groans. "That's Dynamight right there."

"Oh!" Izuku gets really excited at the mention of the hero name; he's a hero fan boy at heart, even though he decided to go to a medical school. He's a nurse now and very proud of it. "And I think I spot Pinky, Chargebolt and Red Riot as well!"

It must be his lucky day because he works at a hospital for civilians so they don't see pro heroes often unless they're fighting a villain nearby. There's a hospital that specializes in treating pro heroes.

"They are his friends," the head nurse explains. "They always come with him wherever he's being a stubborn idiot," she turns around and curses when she doesn't see any of Izuku's coworkers nearby.

"What is it?"

"Everyone ran away," she sighs, sounding tired already. "Nobody likes that one; he doesn't stay still and always claims to be fine even if he has a broken bone."

"Dynamight?"

"Yeah, that little demon."

"Oh," Izuku mumbles as the four pro heroes finally manage to walk in. Two of them are practically dragging the explosive hero inside.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, but I'm afraid you'll have to assist the doctor this time, because nobody else is going to."

"That's okay!" He assures her.

"LET ME GO, SHITTY HAIR! I TOLD YOU I'M FINE!"

"You're bleeding!" Pinky rolls her eyes, not even worried about the amount of curses that come from that gremlin's mouth. "Sorry to bother you this beautiful night, but the angry pomeranian got himself hurt again."

"I'm Midoriya Izuku, I'll take you to an examination room, just follow me."

However, that's when Dynamight stops struggling completely and stares at Izuku without blinking for a while; Izuku starts getting worried even though the wound on his arm doesn't look serious. It might need a couple of stitches but that's all.

Even Charbebolt and Red Riot look at their friend in shock when they don't feel any type of resistance anymore.

"Are you alright, Dynamight-san?" Izuku asks, waving a hand in front of him. "Did you hit your head at some point?"

"Maybe he's lost too much blood already!" Chargebolt worries.

"I'M FINE!" Dynamight finally blinks and then growls at his friends before shaking them off.

Pinky is the only one who looks relaxed, she seems amused by the situation even.

"Lead the way then," the explosive pro hero tells Izuku and it's the first time the green haired nurse doesn't see him yelling at someone.

When they're inside and Izuku asks the pro hero to sit on the examination table, he starts thinking that maybe all the rumors about his bad behavior are slightly exaggerated. Because the pro hero does exactly as Izuku asks him too.

His friends are looking at him with their jaws dropped.

The doctor walks in while Izuku is cleaning the wound and even she looks a little bit surprised at the sight.

"It seems to be only your arm," she observes, leaning closer to Dynamight.

"I'm done!" Izuku beams, finally stepping away from him, looking happy with the way he patched the pro hero up.

Even though the doctor is still speaking, he can feel the pro hero's eyes on him.

"Thank you, uhh... Midoriya."

The other pro heroes and even the doctor herself look like they're in shock; Red Riot even chokes at Dynamight's words.

"You're welcome!"

"I'm Bakugo Katsuki, but you can call me Katsuki."

Izuku blushes to the tip of his ears, but he shakes his head.

"I'm afraid I can't, we barely know each other. Besides, I'm just your nurse."

It seems like Bakugo is about to argue, but instead he nods, looking like a kicked puppy. Izuku regrets his decision almost immediately.

"I thought he was really nice," he comments out loud to the head nurse when the pro heroes are gone.

"It seems Midoriya tamed the angry pomeranian," the doctor says. "I think he has a crush on our sweet boy."

Izuku's face turns strawberry red, he's sure of it.

"That's not true!" He says at the same time the head nurse says: "It makes sense, that's why he finally shut up as soon as he saw him."

Izuku shakes his head, refusing to believe something as ridiculous as that.

***

Bakugo keeps coming back every time he's hurt; Izuku thinks that maybe he's in charge of that area of the city, but another nurse assures him that's not the case, as he shows him a video on YouTube of him fighting at the other side of the city. The video was live just a couple of hours ago.

But that's ridiculous, why would he go to that hospital then?

"He always asks for you," the head nurse points out, to which Izuku shakes his head again.

Sometimes his friends come with him, although they never try to grab him again because the pro hero walks inside voluntarily each time.

"Your eyes are pretty," Bakugo blurts out once, prompting Izuku to almost drop the tray of medical equipment he was carrying.

"Thank you, Bakugo-san." He mumbles, trying not to sound as flustered as he feels.

"Call me Katsuki."

Izuku tries to focus on his task and inspects the wound on Bakugo's shoulder. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be broken, and the doctor confirms it a couple of minutes later.

"Your pro hero is here again," now the entire staff calls Bakugo Izuku's pro hero, much to the green haired nurse embarrassment.

They even say that in front of Bakugo once and the pro hero doesn't even blink.

Bakugo doesn't help his case that much either; he starts bringing Izuku coffee, hot chocolate and All Might merch signed by the former pro hero himself once he found out Izuku was an All Might fan.

One of Izuku's coworkers shows him that the people are spreading rumors about Dynamight being in love with someone from that hospital on Twitter because a couple of people have seen him there.

Izuku thinks he saw one of their patients trying to take a picture of the pro hero once, so it makes sense.

"But that doesn't mean it's me."

"Who else, boy?" The head nurse rolls her eyes at him. "Honestly, for someone so brilliant, you can be quite dense sometimes."

Izuku doesn't believe it, but he does give in and starts calling Bakugo 'Kacchan' mostly because he couldn't bring himself to call him Katsuki; it sounds too intimate for him.

But then Katsuki starts using his given name and Izuku can't help but blush every single time he does that.

Katsuki seems to be very pleased by the situation.

***

"Your pro hero is waiting for you in the examination room," the head nurse smirks and Izuku notices that his other coworkers are looking with interest in his direction.

"It's a pleasure to see you again, sweetie," Pinky says, smiling at him as she stops Chargebolt from stepping closer to him. "We said we would wait outside, remember, Kaminari?"

Chargebolt pouts, turns around and right into Red Riot's embrace. The other pro hero gives him a couple of headpats to calm him down.

"I'm sure Bakubro will tell us everything."

Very confused, Izuku decides to step inside the room. However, for the first time Katsuki is in his civilian clothes and he seems to be completely fine.

"What–" That's when he notices the bouquet of cherry blossoms. "Oh."

"Izuku, I'd love for you to take care of me and patch me up for the rest of our lives."

That sounds dangerously close to a–

"What the heck, Blasty?" Pinky's voice is very clear at the other side of the door. "You said you were going to take it slow!"

"AND YOU PROMISED NOT TO EAVESDROP!" Katsuki yells back before staring at Izuku again, this time blushing to the tip of his ears, completely flustered. "I didn't mean to say that out loud, sorry... although I mean it."

"Kacchan!" Izuku blurts out, heart beating inside his chest like crazy.

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Izuku?"

Despite being absolutely nervous, he doesn't hesitate when he whispers, shyly: "I'd love to."

The cheering outside tells him that Pinky wasn't the only one eavesdropping, but Izuku doesn't care because Katsuki is taking him in his arms and kissing him on the lips.

They pull away, panting and blushing only after a couple of knocks at the door.

"Listen, Midoriya, I'm really happy for you, but you better not be making out with your pro hero in there!" The head nurse yells at the other side, prompting Izuku to giggle and Katsuki to smirk.

"I'll see you at the end of my shift, Kacchan."

"I can't wait."

***

Patreon

[luveline]

hi jade <3 was wondering if you’d write smth about bau reader getting injured or smth and hotch being all over her in the hospital:)

hope this is okay baby! ♥︎ fem!bau!reader tw car accident injuries

You wake up to Hotch kissing the back of your hand. You know it's him, but you're desperate to be funny. 

"Spence, I don't think we're at this point in our friendship," you mumble lethargically.

Hotch doesn't laugh. You frown and open your eyes slowly, so slowly it feels as though your eyelashes are coming apart one at a time. You blink against the burning ache of the white walls, floors, and curtains surrounding you. Even the window broadcasts the snow-heavy branches of a pine tree. 

Hotch is sitting ramrod straight in a vinyl chair beside your bed. You wonder why he's so low down, before realising you're high up. Your hospital bed is elevated. 

"What's wrong?" you ask in concern. 

He looks like he hasn't slept properly for a long time, his under eyes puffy and his face more stubbly than you're used to. 

Hotch stands up from his chair, your hand still held delicately in his, and kisses your cheek. He rests his forehead against the kiss print a second later, sighing from the very depth of his chest. 

"You have a broken collar bone," he says quietly. "That's what's wrong." 

"With you, I mean." 

"It's the same answer." He squeezes your hand and pulls away. "You also had a bad concussion, but that shouldn't be bothering you anymore. Tell me if it is." 

"I… crashed the SUV." 

"You did." 

"Did I go through the windshield?" 

Hotch's hand slides up your arm, from wrist to elbow to upper arm. His thumb rubs the soft fat there sweetly. "No. You hit the steering wheel very hard." 

"And you got the unsub?"

"We got the unsub." 

You know what Hotch is thinking. He wants to ask you, maybe tell you, to never take a risk like that again. That your life is worth more than catching an unsub. But sometimes it doesn't feel true — you'll take the concussion and the broken collarbone ten times over if it means you can catch a child killer. And plus, you can't remember any of it. Thank you, brain. 

"How many days?" am I missing?

He stands up tall. "Only two. You're lucky, they gave you the good stuff."

You try to hug him and gasp — your arm doesn't want to move, and when you force it the pain slices through. "Can't be that good," you gasp, looking down at yourself. Your left arm is in a sling that leaves little room for grabbing him. 

"Your collarbone is still broken," he says. 

You burst out laughing and it stings with every jostle of your shoulder. His deadpan delivery has the power to make you laugh no matter the circumstance, including your awful dry mouth and your aching collar. 

"Don't move around," he pleads. 

You tip your head away from him. "Will you hug me?" 

Thank earth that even Hotch knows when professionalism is out the window. He eases your shoulders forward to slide his arm between you and the bed, cautious not to hurt you but hugging startlingly tight at the same time. 

"Sorry if I smell bad," you murmur. 

He rubs his cheek against your ear, says, with true humour this time, "They've been giving you sponge baths." 

"That is so embarrassing." 

He dips back to kiss your cheek. You lose count of them, and you savour each one. Who needs morphine?

[icyowl]

Bluelock Cuddling headcanons

ft. Isagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami

Request: none

A/N: one of my racehorses won a race today so here’s a little gift to celebrate my good mood!

—————

Yoichi Isagi

the respectful kind

his favorite is half-cuddle — him on his back, you curled up into his side, head on his chest. Does his arm fall asleep? Absolutely. Will he stop? Never.

make his heart wobble any time you look up and about how much you like this — spending time with him, being close like this, knowing he cares about your opinion enough to ask so frequently for it.

Isagi is the kind that likes to cuddle the nights before a stressful thing. He gets to talk out his troubles and generally feel better about whatever anxieties he's got. Also, he genuinely seeks your life advice. He talks through his problems, that's who he is, and with you like this it feels like such a private time of vulnerability.

You habitually play with one another's fingers and hands. Usually it's sweet, but sometimes it devolves into thumb wars, arm wrestling, and even all out tickle battles. Sometimes he even lets you win

If he's lucky he can get you to fall asleep before he does. Reason? He likes watching you doze on him. Something about you falling asleep to the dip and rise of his chest makes him all giddy and humble at the same time.

Inevitably someone walks in on you two only to be greeted with the terror-inducing glare he pins them down with. Wake you up and they are not long for this world.

Hyoma Chigiri

the timid kind

go-to is the traditional spoon. It means you don't have to look at him and whatever embarrassment he's gotta be showing while being this close to you.

As time goes on, he starts to get almost too comfortable with it. On the phone? Playing a game? Fuckin' doing laundry? Doesn't matter. When he's lying on any bed or couch, there is a distinct bubble of space, and if you invade the bubble, you're within striking distance. His arms are nearly as fast as his legs. Chigiri will latch onto you, will pull you in, and will interrupt whatever it is you wanted to do so he can spoon you.

Rub his hand or intertwine fingers while he's got an arm draped over you and he is GONE

There have been times when he's pushed you away, and though it makes sense — he's always been the kind to close himself off, turn vile and harsh when he's hurting — it breaks you. When you're both ready to reconcile, somehow it ends with your back to his chest, his legs mixed with yours, and his warm hand holding you snug to his body.

Also likes this position because it lets him nuzzle in right on the wispy hairs at the bottom of your neck or the big vein on the side.

Turn the tables on him by flipping over in his grip and facing him head-on. It's also a nice way to get even closer to him when you've had a bad day. A kind of haven can be found in nestling under his chin. He's alright with this — it means you can't see his face and the obvious love-sick tint to his eyes.

Rensuke Kunigami

the kind that doesn't know his own strength

best likes the space-saver, aka, one person laying on top of the other. Boy doesn't care which of you is on top. He likes supporting your body or you supporting his — something about being the other person's strength makes the back of his head tingle.

first time he lays on you, he doesn't check his weight at all, just flops down. Immediately thinks he's broken you when you squeak. After that he's almost too wary about hurting you. Am I too heavy? Can you breathe okay? Do I need to get up? You can get on top if you want. Relax Kunigami, just don't fall from orbit and you'll be fine.

Icing on the cake is when you play with his hair. Dude could be angry as an ox, ready to rip someone in half, and two minutes of your fingers in his hair has him fighting to stay awake and spend time with you. What was he angry about again?

One time you fell asleep on his chest, all blissed out and comfy, only to wake up in a shiny puddle of your own drool. You were, understandably, mortified, but the embarrassment turns to affection when he casually disregards the whole thing: it's just a shirt, it'll dry.

You figured you repaid the favor when several weeks later he was one on top of you, head burrowed unceremoniously into your stomach, arms underneath your back, refusing to look up or speak. The reason revealed itself when he finally met your eyes.

Tears. Tiny sniffs too. Four words: I failed my team. That was all he said before digging his face back into your skin. It took time, and a lot of encouragement, but he did eventually snap out of the funk and even apologized for messing up your clothes. It'll dry, you said, and you shared a little snicker.

[readyforevolution]

Slave making

Our people weren't brought right here to this country. They were first dropped off in the West Indian islands, in the Caribbean. Most of the slaves that were brought from Africa were dropped off first in the Caribbean, West Indian islands. Why? This was the breaking-in grounds. They would break them in down there. When they broke them in, then they would bring the ones whose spirit had been broken on to America. They had all kinds of tactics for breaking them in. They bred fear into them, for one thing.

I read in one book how the slave maker used to take a pregnant woman, a Black woman, and make her watch as her man would be tortured and put to death. One of those slave makers had trees that he planted in positions where he would bend them and tie them, and then tie the hand of a Black man to one, a hand to the other, and his legs to two more, and he'd cut the rope. And when he'd cut the rope, that tree would snap up and pull the arm of the Black man right out of his socket, pull him up into four different parts. I'll show you books where you can read it, they write about it. And they made the pregnant Black women stand there and watch as they did it, so that all this grief and fear that they felt would go right into that baby, that Black baby that was yet to be born. It would be born afraid, born with fear in it. And you've got it in you right now—right now, you've still got it. When you get in front of that blue-eyed thing, you start to itching, don't you? And you don't know why. It was bred into you. But when you find out how they did it, you can get it out of you and put it right back in them.

Now, I'm not talking racism. [Applause] This isn't racism—this is history, we're dealing with just a little bit of history tonight. We've only got a few minutes left, so I'm trying to go fast. I'm kind of tired, so I can't go too fast—you'll have to excuse me—but I just want to get the rest of this out.

They used to take a Black woman who would be pregnant and tie her up by her toes, let her be hanging head down, and they would take a knife and cut her stomach open, let that Black unborn child fall out, and then stomp its head in the ground. I'll show you books where they write about this, I'll name them to you: Slave Trade by Spears; From Slavery to Freedom by John Hope Franklin; Negro Family in the U.S. by Frazier touches on some of it. All night long—Anti-Slavery by Dwight Lowell Dumond—I'll cite you books all night long, where they write themselves on what they did to you and me. And have got the nerve to say we teach hate because we're talking about what they did. Why, they're lucky, really, they're lucky, they're fortunate.

Slaves used to sing that song about "My Lord's going to move this wicked race and raise up a righteous nation that will obey." They knew what they were talking about—they were talking about the man. They used to sing a song, "Good News, a Chariot Is Coming." If you notice, everything they sang in those spirituals was talking about going to get away from here. None of them wanted to stay here. You're the only ones, sitting around here now like a knot on a log, wanting to stay here. You're supposed to be educated and hip, you're supposed to know what's happening, you know—they're not supposed to know what's happening. But everything they sang, every song, had a hint in it that they weren't satisfied here, that they weren't being treated right, that somebody had to go.

The slave maker knew that he couldn't make these people slaves until he first made them dumb. And one of the best ways to make a man dumb is to take his tongue, take his language. A man who can't talk, what do they call him? A dummy. Once your language is gone, you are a dummy. You can't communicate with people who are your relatives, you can never have access to information from your family—you just can't communicate.

Also, if you'll notice, the natural tongue that one speaks is referred to as one's mother tongue—mother tongue. And the natural intelligence that a person has before he goes to school is called mother wit. Not father wit—it's called mother wit because everything a child knows before it gets to school, it learns from its mother, not its father. And if it never goes to school, whatever native intelligence it has, it got it primarily from its mother, not its father; so it's called mother wit. And the mother is also the one who teaches the child how to speak its language, so that the natural tongue is called the mother tongue. Whenever you find as many people as we who aren't able to speak any mother tongue, why, that's evidence right there something was done to our mother. Something had to have happened to her.

They had laws in those days that made it mandatory for a Black child to be taken from its mother as fast as that child was born. The mother never had a chance to rear it. The child would be brought up somewhere else away from the mother, so that the mother couldn't teach the child what she knew—about itself, about her past, about its heritage. It would have to grow up in complete darkness, knowing nothing about the land where it came from or the people that it came from. Not even about its own mother. There was no relationship between the Black child and its mother; it was against the law. And if the master would ever find any of those children who had any knowledge of its mother tongue, that child was put to death. They had to stamp out the language; they did it scientifically. If they found any one of them that could speak it, off went its head, or they would put it to death, they would kill it, in front of the mother, if necessary. This is history; this is how they took your language. You didn't lose it, it didn't evaporate—they took it with a scientific process, because they knew they had to take it to make you dumb, or into the dummy that you and I now are.

I read in some books where it said that some of the slave mothers would try and get tricky. In order to teach their child, who'd be off in another field somewhere, they themselves would be praying and they'd pray in a loud voice, and in their own language. The child in the distant field would hear his mother's voice, and he'd learn how to pray in the same way; and in learning how to pray, he'd pick up on some of the language. And the master found that this was being done, and immediately he stepped up his efforts to kill all the little children that were benefiting from this. And so it became against the law even for the slave to be caught praying in his tongue, if he knew it. It was against the law. You've heard some of the people say they had to pray with their heads in a bucket. Well, they weren't praying to the Jesus that they're praying to now. The white man will let you call on that Jesus all day long; in fact he'll make it possible for you to call on him. If you were calling on somebody else, then he'd have more fear of it. Your calling on that somebody else in that other language—that causes him a bit of fear, a bit of fright.

They used to have to steal away and pray. All those songs that the slaves talked, or sang, and called spirituals, had wrapped up in them some of what was happening to them. And when the child realized that it couldn't hear its mother pray any more, the slaves would come up with a song, "I Couldn't Hear Nobody Pray," or the song "Motherless Child": "Sometimes, I feel like a motherless child. Father gone, mother gone, motherless child sees a hard time." All of these songs were describing what was happening to us then, in the only way the slaves knew how to communicate—in song. They didn't dare say it outright, so they put it in song. They pretended that they were singing about Moses in "Go Down, Moses." They weren't talking about Moses and telling "old Pharaoh to let my people go." They were trying to talk some kind of talk to each other, over the slave master's head. Now you've got ahold of the thing and you're believing in it for real. Yes, I hear you singing "Go down, Moses," and you're still talking about Moses four thousand years ago—you're out of your mind. But those slaves had a whole lot of sense. Everything they sang was designed toward freedom, designed toward going back home, or designed toward getting this big white ape off their backs.

Malcolm X