#kneeling pad review

[safetyall]

Kneeling pads for mechanics are specialized foam or gel pads designed to provide comfort and support while kneeling on hard or uneven surfaces, such as concrete floors or under vehicles. These pads help prevent discomfort, strain, and long-term damage to the knees, making them an essential tool for mechanics, DIYers, and anyone who spends a lot of time kneeling during work.

#for #foryou #mechanics #pads #fortheloveofmaine #fordusa

[savnofilter]

In His Arms | h. sero (ver.)

            Pro Hero!Hanta Sero x [GN]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sfw, angst, fluff, comforting!Sero, panick attack, mentions of nightmares, slight mentions of past emotional trauma but nothing serious, established relationship.

COUNT: .9k words.

I/B: in his arms by me.

READ MORE: masterlist + [students masterlist]

A/N: i love this picture. 🥹 was gonna use a different one but i decided to go digging to find more sero pics. sero is undoubtedly so underrated it's sickening... ALSO TJIS IS EO LATE I AM SO SORRY. didnt want to make a copycat of the ojiro one yet i hadnt even reviewed what i wrote for it haha. anyways, hope y'all like it! thank you, (crairo) anon!

The room was too bright and it felt as though everything was caving in.

Laying in bed offered you no real comfort as your labored breaths made you feel suffocated, your eyes now starting to well with tears as anxiety rose within you. You wrapped your arms around yourself and curled into a ball, a small sob coming from you as you feebly attempted to soothe yourself. Usually, you had the comfort of your boyfriend next to you to ground you, but today you were by yourself.

The cool air taunting you synonymous with the cold sheets served as a reminder that you were all alone. That the fears and anxieties from your nightmare didn't stop once you woke up, it instead followed you as you awoke.

You felt an uncomfortable shiver rack through your body as your eyes desperately tried to adjust to the bright lights in the room. You would think waking up out of a nightmare during the daytime would ease you, but you were wrong. It felt overwhelmingly stimulating and your brain and body were desperately trying to find something to ease the panic that it was experiencing.

In your shivers you're able to peek at the clock on your nightstand, the digital tool letting you know that it is soon to be afternoon, hopefully in time for your boyfriend to come get you. You couldn't coax it out of yourself to physically reach out for your phone and shut your eyes in hopes that he would arrive sooner than later. As you closed your eyes, luckily the images of what you had experienced didn't stick but the interconnectedness of the dream clung to you deeply. There wasn't a moment where your body wasn't paralyzed in discomfort.

Heavy buzzing on your nightstand tickles the back of your brain, the static-like noise in your busy mind going completely ignored. It wasn't until you realized that it had been going on for a few minutes that you realized that it was your phone making that disturbance. You open back up your glossy eyes and curl further within yourself, not ready to confront anything that could mess with your already sensitive emotions.

After a while, the jittering had stopped and you were left with the silence of yourself. Still, as you came down from your breakdown tears left your eyes although dry. You refused to move from your spot to help anchor yourself. You no longer felt cold in the embrace of your sheets, now covered in a layer of sweat and feeling hotter than ever. The switch in sensations added on to your already difficult challenge of balancing your senses.

Distantly, you hear the front door to your apartment unlock and soon enough strong and hurried footsteps quickly pad their way to your shared bedroom door; it now opens with a wild swing.

"Y/N?!" Sero, your long-time boyfriend called out in fear.

You whimper at the sound of him and don't bother to move, a sniffle sounding from you alerting him of what state you were in.

Sero softly coos at the fetus positioned lump under the sheets and gently kneels next to your bed as he takes you in.

"Another bad dream?"

You nod looking away from him, feeling embarrassed at how susceptible you were to these things. He gives your forehead a comforting kiss before standing up and pulling you up for a hug, the manhandling you were used to since it was the only way you were able to move in moments like this. As you welcomed his warm and gentle embrace, another shocked sob ran through your body as you found immense comfort in his hold.

He whispered sweet reassurance in your ear, hand rubbing your arm soothingly as if handling a baby who was shaken up. At least that's what you felt like. You had always been like this as a child and only a few people understood that the only way you could come down from your awful night terrors was by coddling like this. In many relationships, you were left humiliated because of the lack of understanding but Sero never left you hanging. Whatever you needed, he was always ready to drop everything and take care of you.

"I thought something went wrong; I called your phone like a million times." Sero jokingly mumbles against your temple, his hands and arms giving you another squeeze before allowing you to slowly untangle yourself from his hold.

"Am sorry…" You pout and wipe your tears, his hands are more than happy to replace yours and wipe the excess himself.

"Don't worry about it, 'kay?" He gives you his signature, warm smile, and holds your hands in his as he places his forehead against yours. There's an urge to laugh at the comical angle he provides you. "You still up for that picnic? I was thinking of getting us boba on the way there."

If you were by yourself you would've stayed the whole day in your apartment, drained. But thanks to him, he always knew how to make your life easier.

    all rights reserved © do NOT steal, alter or copy this work.

[tightsweatyclothes]

When Chloe and Natalie were offered the chance to serve the remainder of their sentence out of the prison compound, they jumped at the chance without even hearing the T&Cs. The padded outfit and helmet now seal them off from the world, insulating them in conditions far worse than those of the sensory deprivation cells. Inside the thick helmets and hoods, they can neither see nor hear the outside world. Regular disinfection and cleaning mechanisms in their attire ensures they never have to take it off, ensures that their hellish dark is permanent. Their own mouths are kept gagged, and the earpieces filled with loud and unbearable blips played at random intervals. The only thing they are allowed to feel in their skin is their own sweat, the smooth and overtight inner surface of the suit, the unbearable itching from chemicals injected into the suit.

Even though the itching makes them want to claw their own skin to pieces, tear at sticky sweaty itching until the blood runs, they may not even try to scratch, for their every movement is at the mercy of the electronic suit, and they may not so much as scream their frustration into the gag, lift a finger, tilt their head, make a step in the wrong direction without paying dearly for it with searing torture. Even as it feels as though ants and mites and bees are swarming the insides of their suits, they can only move their limbs slowly, and the more they try not to think about it, the worse the itching seems to get. Even their eyes are not exempt: inside the helmet, a bright light flashes into their pupils, and while it is on they have to follow it as it moves on the screen, and if not the eyeball tracker unit punishes them with a shock.

Inside the suits, the temperature is kept at 37°C, and the air they breathe is regulated, coming from canisters which have to be replaced regularly, filled with foul-smelling air which makes them feel like vomiting. When the air runs low, they are directed to a kneeling and bowed position at a refilling station which also serves to feed and water them, and furthermore recharge the suits, and finally allow them to pass a few drops of waste, never allowing the pressure at their bladders to fall below agonising urgency.

They spend their days at the mercy of the outfit, forced to follow its every order, unable to sleep for more than an hour at a time with their limbs bound together at the charging stations before being rudely awoken once more. This precious hour is the only time the continuous torments, the unrelenting control over their every motion lets up, allowing them to thrash against the steel shackles which keep their wrists and ankles firmly locked, allowing them at least to scream into the gag in desperate fury before sheer exhaustion takes over. Two weeks have passed, but already it feels like eons to the two pitiable girls, and there are several months before their performance review to decide if their punishment is to be lengthened, or made lenient, or simply continued indefinitely.

[iwaoiness]

It happens on the fourth day of the second week of the VNL. Akane Yamamoto finally gets the chance to interview Iwaizumi in person, who is happy to speak with her again and compliments her about her new role as a sports journalist at the renowned television network.

The interview flows in an engaging and even fun manner. All the questions focus on JNT, the most problematic players he has encountered, his routines, and his professional future with the team. Iwaizumi laughs at a few responses, and Akane really enjoys the conversation.

Then, Hajime's smartwatch starts to vibrate remembering the meeting with the technical team and the coach.

Akane apologizes and asks for just five more minutes, which Iwaizumi happily grants, postponing the alarm. She quickly reviews her notebook, sighing in relief when there is only one last question left to ask. She then looks up at the athletic trainer again, her smile widening.

"Iwaizumi-sensei, there is one last thing all the viewers want to know before we say goodbye and wish you the best of luck for the match against Poland. Since today is your birthday, what would be the perfect gift for you?" she asks, directing the microphone towards Iwaizumi.

Akane hopes he will respond with something as cool as winning today's match or securing first place in the tournament. Or perhaps he will simply wish for health and a bright future for the JNT. Or maybe he'll ask for a raise for being the professional babysitter of the monster generation. Or he might just laugh, unsure of what to wish for.

What Akane doesn't expect is for Iwaizumi to smile warmly and soft, his gaze fixed beyond her, and then to gesture in that direction with his chin.

"That."

In a flash, both Akane and the camera held by her cameraman swiftly turn around.

Near the billboards, just a few meters away, Oikawa Tooru is kneeling in front of a little girl no older than ten, scribbling on a towel resting on his thigh. He looks radiant, his hair tousled from his recent victory over Germany, his blue shirt clinging to his broad torso like a second skin, his new compression sleeves wrapping around his chiseled muscles of his arms, and his knee pads now resting at his ankles.

He smiles genuinely at whatever the little girl is enthusiastically telling him, oblivious to the camera and Hajime's gaze. When he finishes signing the towel, he hands it to her, and she squeals with delight, proudly showing it to her mother before giving Oikawa a high five and saying goodbye.

As Tooru stands up, a shy young boy approaches him, holding a volleyball under his arm and a black marker in his hand. And Oikawa greets him with the same genuine happiness as before.

Both the cameraman and Akane return to Hajime. The journalist, cheeks flushed, closes her mouth, which she had unconsciously left open, and blinks at Iwaizumi like an owl. He looks at her, amused, with his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't my gift so pretty?"

That segment of the interview goes viral within days (just a few weeks before the All Star Match, for Kuroo's delight). Countless theories are published, the most popular being the true meaning of the ring Oikawa always ties to his shoelaces during every match—not a good luck charm, but a real engagement ring (Tooru didn't help by responding to the entire thread with a simple o(≧▽≦)o). A certain Hanamaki begins accepting interviews (with payment upfront, of course) only to answer ambiguously and send greetings to his mother from various networks. A certain Matsukawa gives away I <3 IwaOi shirts with the purchase of a coffin. And Oikawa finally re-uploads all the photos with Iwaizumi to his public account, from the selfie where Tooru playfully bites Hajime's cheek while he laughs, to the photo of his hand on Iwaizumi's solid, muscular, and broad back, his long fingers caressing the scratches at the height of his shoulder blades and the trail of hickeys on his neck.

...

every june day it's iwa's day

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[the-axe-and-flail]

YAAAAAAALLL

Look who arrived today!!!

He's fucking GORGEOUS and HUGE and he weighs a fuckton and IM IN LOVE 🥹

Just look at the scale of this beast

This is him next to my 8 inch banpresto and the hashira kneeling banpresto

Not to mention just the flail itself is the size of my palm!

Anyway review time- Link, for any interested

I purchase him from FavorGK and the experience was incredibly easy and very streamlined. You pay for the fig in two options (either via payments or upfront total). If it is a pre-order there will be a wait, but otherwise the website customer service emails you giving you the shipping total, and then it ships out direct from production line to you. I paid for shipping on March 4th and he arrived today (June 21), so shipping definitely takes a hot minute, but a package this massive (literally the box was wider than my little trex armspan) will travel much slower.

He arrived with 0 damage, very very well padded, and with lots of wonderful identification as well. The thing weighs like 10 lbs, and is solid resin. Pieces were very easy to assemble and most of them were magnetic to make fitting even more simple.

I cannot recommend this process enough and when they announce Genya, Kyojuro, and Mitsuri I'm gonna snag them all too!

Overall- 9/10, the only beef I had was UPS being shit with updating tracking. I had no idea he was even in the states before he was on my doorstep. The detail, the quality, and the customer service we're absolutely tops!

[justpottytime]

okay so I’m starting this off by saying that most of these don’t include omo but this is a thought that I really want to get out there

so I have basically no idea how to explain the thought process of this but it seems, to me at least, and it has been brought to my attention due to Turning Red…. but it feels like there is a stigmatized view of men and women regarding the different things they go through. (Periods, stereotypes, private parts) which creates a lot of shame and embarrassment whenever it’s brought up and some end up making fun of or getting outright angry about those things (just look at the Turning Red reviews)

I honestly have no idea if what I’m saying makes sense but a thought has been circulating in my brain about this friend group (or polycule if you want) being extremely comforting and assuring whenever these things are the center of attention

before I get into this, in this group there is an equal amount of boys and girls, there can be as many friends in this friend group as you want. But in these prompts, they’re all from the same friend group :)

So you know how in media a guy sometimes gets hit in the balls and it’s played for laughs. I get the comedy aspect but what about the comfort aspect? So character (A) with a penis ends up getting hit in the balls, however that happens is up to you. But he kneels over and grips his crotch as pain radiates through his cock. A’s friends call out to him, obviously concerned. Not only is he in immense pain at the moment but he is also extremely embarrassed and self-conscious now as everyone’s attention is now on him and what he’s holding. The guys, of course, are sympathetic and ask a lot of questions and help him get back on his feet. But A is mostly worried about the girls’ reactions, he had quite a lot of girls kick him in the balls when he was in school for fun, which resulted in him getting laughed at. But the girls of this friend group don’t act like that, they check to make sure he’s okay and stuff like that, much to his shock. About ten minutes later or so they can still tell that he’s still pretty embarrassed about it. And everyone is quick to cuddle A and assure him that it’s fine and no one’s judging him

Character with a vagina (B) is on her period, and she is currently hanging out with a character with a penis (C) so they are chilling and everything’s fine… until B freezes, looks down, and runs to the bathroom. C is very much confused, but then he looks down at the couch that they were sitting on to see a noticeable sized blood patch on the furniture. C immediately understands and goes to clean it up. But when they do, B still hasn’t come out of the bathroom yet. C checks on B and hears slight sniffling and B sheepishly asks if C has a change of clothes and a pad or tampon. C actually does have those things since he keeps period products on hand in case if one of his friends has an emergency like this. So he gets her the stuff followed by a sheepish “Thank you…” and B later comes out, all red-faced and teary-eyed. C is surprised to see his friend so distraught but gives her a hug anyway. The embarrassment + the period hormones are making her emotional and she just starts apologizing for staining the couch, crying over something so silly, etc. Basically things she doesn’t need to apologize for. C shushes her and assured her there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and that it happens to all girls

Character with a vagina (D) and character with a penis (E) are on a nature walk together. E notices that D is getting squirmy and asks what’s wrong. D shyly admits they need to pee, E just says to go outside which D immediately refuses. D doesn’t have a dick like E has and she doesn’t want to take all her clothes off just to pop a two minute squat, she also admits she can’t hold a squat that long. E then agrees and says “Fair enough” but an hour later and D is whimpering, holding her crotch, anything to keep the flood in. E then just tells D to go, he doesn’t want her to end up hurting herself from holding it in. E says that if D has a hard time squatting, he could help hold her up, he just won’t look. D immediately refuses and it’s revealed that she’s also bladder shy. E comes up with an idea and just goes “Take your pants off, I promise I won’t look. And I have an idea, but I need you to trust me.” D finally does and takes her pants and panties off. And now she’s just standing there pantsless in the middle of the route, her face is burning up right now. Sure, this route is very vacant but that doesn’t mean no one will come around! Hastily, D calls for E and states that she’s ready and she’s potty dancing at this point, E leads her behind a tree and encourages her to squat and that he’ll hold her up, keep in mind he’s aiming his eyes toward the sky out of respect. D whimpers and squats down and E, sticking to his word, holds her up. D whimpers and goes “E… E, I can’t. I-It won’t come out!” E starts rubbing over where her sore bladder is and pushes down lightly, he gives her little tickles too and soon, D moans and lets the floodgates open. The pee lasts for a while and E is rubbing her back reassuringly, very proud of her

I don’t know, just something about people with opposite genitalia reassuring their friends when something “embarrassing” happens is a surprisingly wholesome thought

apologies if the first part didn’t make much sense, I’m tired. But holy shit did this get long

Ok but I actually kinda love this - it's so ingrained in our culture to laugh or be grossed out about these things, but it's really nice to flip the script and respond with comfort and reassurance instead! Yeah, being kicked in the balls DOES suck, getting period blood on the couch IS embarrassing, that doesn't always need to be the butt of a joke! We can be nice about things instead... And of course, the pee shyness thing is one of my favourite tropes honestly, holding someone up because they're bad at squatting is just too adorable!

Thanks for the ask!

... @littleleaks172257 doesn't this sound like things we'd do to our OCs? XD

[renee-writer]

The Contractor Chapter 17 Confession Time

AO3

He knocks on the door. Then again. Hearing Fergus ‘ soft pre-crying sounds, he opens it.

 

The lad lays in his cot, kicking his legs, his tiny arms moving about. Beside him, his mama sits, sleeping in the chair, a medical book, barely held in her fingers. She told him that she was reviewing some things in preparation for returning to work.

 

“Mama is sleeping. Let’s see if I can help you lad.” He whispers, lifting him up. He feels and smells the problem straight away. His nappy.  “A grand thing I’ve practice on changing them.” He carries the baby over to the pad laid out for changing.

 

A lift, a funny face at the contents, a swipe, another, a fresh nappy with the other deposited away. A happy lad.

 

“All better, eh?” He takes a seat on the rocker. Lifting him to his chest, he moves gently. “It will be better when you can use the loo like us big lads. That will be some time away. First, you will learn to roll over, sit up on your own, crawl, then walk, run.” He looks down to see the frown on his face, “Dinna fash lad. You won’t be alone. Your mama will be there. She will help you along. Can you keep a secret?” the baby’s eyes drift shut, “I will take that as an aye. I want to be around for all that too.  You love your mama, I know. I do too. Just don’t have the guts to tell her.”

 

She woke, halfway through his speech. Staying still, once she understood that her son was safe, she listens. Eavesdropping isn’t usually her style, but justified by her not wishing to disturb the sweet conversation. Until the end.

 

“You just did.” He jerks, so lost in his confession and the sweet weight of the baby, he forgot she was in the room. She stands looking at them.

 

“He needed a nappy change. I didn’t want to wake…”

 

She stops him by kneeling down to kiss him. He responds the best he can with Fergus in his arms.

 

“You love me?”

 

His breath comes short and his heart is pounding, so he nods at first. A deep breath. “Aye, I do.” She moves her now sleeping son back to his cot. Then she takes his hand and urges him up from the rocker. When they both stand, she wraps her arms about him.

 

“Thank God, for I love you too.”

[knitasha]

Mending

Day 1 of NaNoWriMo prep. 15 minutes - no review, no revisions, just writing.

---

Anne grunted lightly as the screen door swung closed and caught her foot before she could fully enter the house. She struggled for a moment to push it back open, wiggling her booted foot to unstick it before letting the door lightly bang closed.

She hastily wiped the muddy boots on the kitchen mat before walking to the kitchen table and dropping the crate with a heavy thud on its surface, one leg squeaking lightly and bowing askew.

“Watch it,” came a voice from the next room.

“Sorry, sorry,” she replied, sounding sorrier than she felt. She made a mental note to straighten that loose table leg later. And tighten the bolts. And it could use a good sanding and resealing. Or maybe a nice coat of paint – bright blue, like the sky when the clouds blow out after a storm.

“Where are you?” Her eyes scanned the living room for the source of the voice as she rubbed the dirt from her hands on the sides of her work pants.

“Down here.”

Anne stepped into the room, her eyebrows raised in amusement, as she caught site of the socked foot sticking out from behind the couch. She kneeled on the cushions, leaning against the back and peering down at the small woman sitting with her face leaned close to the back corner of the couch, feet splayed out on either side, and a small tin of embroidery supplies balancing on her thigh.

“Hey. Whatcha doing?”

“I got tired of looking at the rips on the couch, so I decided to fix it.”

“You do a lot of looking at the back of the couch?” She grinned as her only response was a raised eyebrow and an even stare.

“I know it’s there, that’s enough.” She sat up straighter, knuckling her lower back as she unfolded from her hunched position. “What do you think so far?”

Anne leaned over further to inspect the corner. She did feel slightly guilty as it had been her idea to foster the stray kittens they’d found and had fixed the summer before. She’d managed to get Dee on board for a little while – until the claws found their way to every soft surface in the house.

The small shreds of fabric had been trimmed away to reveal the padding underneath and in their place was a grid of brightly colored threads woven together to cover the bare spot. She smiled down at the patch and then directed at the woman.

“It’s perfect, Dee.”

Dee beamed up at her. “I had all of those extra threads from my embroidery projects; now I can put ‘em to use.”

“I love it,” she said warmly, standing back and reaching a hand down. “Take a break and see what I picked up from the market.”

Dee scrambled up, dropping her sewing tin on the arm of the couch as she raced to the kitchen table. “Did someone bring apples??”

“Maybe. If I say yes, will you make your apple pie?”

Dee grinned over at her, pulling a bright green apple from underneath the small mound of potatoes. “Maybe.”

[dantecoltrane]

Ding

It had to be her. The mobile phone was glued to his hand, left an impression from how long it had been held, a callus forming in the pad of his palm from how many times it twisted around in wait. It twisted once more, screen up, lit up and dashing across Dante's face. Nothing. No. He heard that. He knew better. His thumb swiped at it, wild animal that's been taught one trick for the zoo, pouncing through the screens, closing them out, reopening, refreshing, reviewing, flicking off a speck of ash from the cigarette that dangled above by the edge of his lips with revolt.

Good morning

And no reply? It was noon.

Dante's cigarette was snatched away from his mouth, twirled between fingers, the smoke weaving through him. Once upon a time he hated the smell. Hated everything about it. Hated how it made his lungs feel like they were on fire. The cough that always lingered. But she liked it. The burning tip smashed into his thumb, baptizing the thin layer of skin that had covered over the old too familiar with the ritual.

SMASH

Good morning flickered, cracks formed from the impact against a brick wall, now lying helpless in the alleyway. Dante's breath was taken, siphoned out of him, a grey mist expelling his boiling point. For a moment, his mind cleared. He needed that, even if it was witnessed by another… a type of company that was unplanned for.

"I'm sorry about that…" he began, kneeling down to pick up the pieces. "I really have the worst luck..." Second burner this month.

Ding

Eyes glanced up, hovering up at the person for a moment before offering a breath of a laugh. "You wouldn't mind if I could borrow yours for a moment?"

[yumitsukiyoru]

The Best Gardening Tools and Gadgets According to Amazon Shoppers

Discover the top-rated gardening products on Amazon that will make your gardening experience easier and more enjoyable.

When it comes to finding the best products, recommendations from fellow shoppers can be invaluable. Amazon shoppers are known for their discerning taste and honest reviews, making them a trusted source for finding high-quality items. Whether you're a seasoned gardener or just starting out, having the right tools and gadgets can make a world of difference in your gardening experience.

We've scoured through thousands of reviews to bring you the top-rated gardening products on Amazon that have achieved cult-favorite status. From kneeling pads to pruning shears, these items have received rave reviews and are sure to enhance your gardening endeavors. So, get ready to dig, plant, and prune with confidence as we unveil the must-have gardening tools and gadgets recommended by Amazon shoppers.

Gorilla Grip Extra Thick Kneeling Pad

Designed for both indoor and outdoor activities, the Gorilla Grip Extra Thick Kneeling Pad is a water-resistant pad made with extra-thick, high-density foam. This durable pad provides excellent protection for your knees, whether you're gardening or engaging in other activities that require kneeling. With over 10,000 five-star ratings, this kneeling pad has become a favorite among Amazon shoppers.

"Great gardening aid," shared one impressed customer. "I like to garden and have a knee that hurts when I kneel down. This pad is very comfortable, easy to use, and provides a good spot to put small objects that you are using.

I have two of them and prefer them to knee pads."

COOLJOB Gardening Gloves

Durable, lightweight, and breathable, COOLJOB Gardening Gloves are designed to protect your hands while providing a non-slip grip on your gardening tools. These knit gloves feature a flexible rubber coating and have garnered over 14,000 five-star reviews from green-thumbed Amazon shoppers. They are also machine washable, making them easy to clean between uses.

"I do A LOT of gardening, and these gloves are amazing," shared one satisfied reviewer. "They hold up to the dirt and water, and the only reason I have purchased them twice is because I use them so much. They are very durable and provide excellent grip."

Aqua Joe Oscillating Sprinkler

With over 27,000 five-star reviews, the Aqua Joe Oscillating Sprinkler is a powerhouse when it comes to watering your lawn. This sprinkler offers completely customizable coverage and is equipped with 20 clog-resistant rubber nozzles. It even comes with a built-in clean-up tool, making maintenance a breeze.

"My boy Aqua Joe rightfully deserves his due credit!" gushed one shopper. "This sprinkler has made what used to be an annoying and tedious task, a thing of the past!

Forget everything you think you know about oscillating sprinklers because this thing reinvented them. I would hands-down recommend you buy it!"

Sun Joe Electric Garden Tiller/Cultivator

The Sun Joe Electric Garden Tiller/Cultivator is a popular choice for gardeners looking to make their planting and weeding tasks easier. With a 2.5-Amp motor and the ability to cultivate up to 6.3 inches deep, this lightweight tiller is perfect for preparing soil for planting. It has received high praise from Amazon shoppers, with one gardener stating, "Love this tiller.

I have a somewhat large garden and plowed all of it for the spring planting with this tiller. It does a great job and is a great price."

Fiskars Bypass Pruning Shears

When it comes to pruning, the Fiskars Bypass Pruning Shears are a top choice among experienced gardeners. These shears feature an ergonomic design with a non-slip grip, and the all-steel blade has a rust-resistant coating for easy clipping. With a soft grip and low-friction coating, these shears easily glide through wood, making them a favorite among those with arthritis or hand dexterity issues.

"I was unable to use larger cutting tools because I have nasty arthritis, but with the Fiskars shears, it's snip and snip and snip," shared a happy shopper. "I am ordering another one today. Yes, it's that good."

Amoji Unisex Garden Clogs

For comfortable and practical footwear while gardening, the Amoji Unisex Garden Clogs are a popular choice. These clogs feature mini massaging bumps in the footbed, drainage holes to prevent water from getting trapped inside, and a non-slip sole for stability and safety. With over 22,000 five-star reviews, these clogs are loved for their versatility and ease of cleaning.

"I use these for slipping on when walking in my backyard with my dogs, gardening, and neighborhood walks," shared one customer. "They are very comfy and cute! Great for warm weather as my feet would get hot.

No odor."

Chapin International Lawn and Garden Sprayer

For those with larger yards or gardens, the Chapin International Lawn and Garden Sprayer is a must-have. These sprayers allow you to take water and liquid fertilizer to areas that your sprinklers can't reach. With over 54,000 five-star reviews, these sprayers are highly regarded for their durability and ease of use.

"They hold plenty of water or liquid fertilizer for what I need in my greenhouse," shared a satisfied gardener. "The sprayer works great, and they're not too heavy for me. And the sprayer works just as well when watering plants on the top shelves."

2Wayz Hose Splitter

When one spout is not enough, the 2Wayz Hose Splitter comes to the rescue. This faucet splitter allows you to hook up two hoses at once and has large shut-off valves that are easy to maneuver. With over 22,000 rave reviews, this splitter is a handy tool for those with multiple watering needs.

"I live in a condo unit and have a small courtyard with planting areas on all four sides," shared a five-star fan. "This splitter is a handy tool. The levers that control the water flow do a good job of controlling it without leaks or drips."

Gootop Bug Zapper

For bug-free outdoor gatherings and celebrations, the Gootop Bug Zapper is a must-have. This gadget uses blue light to attract mosquitoes, gnats, moths, and flies within a 1,500 sq. ft range, zapping and killing them on contact.

With over 38,000 five-star reviews, this bug zapper is highly effective and housed inside a plastic grate to prevent accidental zaps.

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[uravichii]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a part two of the attractive/cute things the bnha boys do for Midoriya, Denki, and Kirishima? Thanks in advance if you do it. 😊💜

attractive//cute things about them pt. 2

characters: midoriya izuku, kaminari denki, kirishima eijirou

genre: fluff

note/s: this kinda leaned more towards "cute" than attractive 🧎‍♀️

read part one here!

ー midoriya izuku

izuku's always willing to help you study !!

and you can see the way his face lights up when you ask help from him, "ahー sure, y/n! 🌞💓‼"

but he'd get really immersed with teaching you.

he sits next to you, and the longer he explains the lecture, the closer he gets until his torso's just pressed against yours

and he glances at you occasionally to make sure you're getting the hang of it with questions like, "right, y/n?"

he'll also prepare reviewers for you and leave little motivational notes like:

"do your best, y/n! and please don't forget to take good care of yourself! -izuku"

with little hearts and a cute drawing of you on the side

izuku often fixes your collar or necktie mindlessly while he talks to you, completely unaware of your cheeks starting to heat up from the light contact of his fingers grazing your neck.

when you caress izuku's seemingly round and soft cheeks, (which very much flusters him) you'd feel from your palms how his jawline and the lines that define his neck and his adam's apple are actually a lot more toned than it looks 👁👁

he always brings important stuff you could forget

like pads/tampons (if you get periods), lip balm, hair tie, water, your favorite snacks he'd probably bring a whole backpack to your dates if he has to

izuku gets a lot more affectionate and clingy when he's tired or sleepy.

he'll shyly nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, and whisper a quiet "i love you" into your ear with his voice a little deeper than his usual tone.

ー kaminari denki

you know those little scenes/panels of denki playing with ojiro's tail

denki fiddles with your hands a lot.

he traces your palm lines, playfully press each finger, and when you're walking by his side and you interlace your fingers into his, he'll just start violently swinging your hand out of pure excitement.

denki runs his hand through his hair a lot, and he looks very pretty when his hair's pushed back with his forehead showing :))

this is more like an attractive thing you do but,,

denki pays full attention when you talk to him, but his gaze often settles solely on your lips.

and when you have a smile that never leaves your face even as you're speaking to him or when you laugh mid-sentence, he's mesmerized

he'd actually widen his eyes and part his lips in admiration, like 'oh my god, you're actually too beautiful please keep doing whatever you're doing??"

denki's a great dancer 🕺✨

and he enjoys your reaction whether it's dancing along with him or just rolling your eyes at him

but he'd definitely take your hand to twirl and dip you, and when he catches your fall, (which he never fails to do) he gives your forehead a little peck before bursting into a soft giggle.

denki likes to kiss your cheek with a loud "mmMWAH!"

and he'll slightly turn his head towards you with an expectant stare afterwards like "😼‼"ー it means you have to kiss his cheek that way too

denki likes pull you into a very tight bear hug.

and if you don't protest at all, he'll just keep hugging you and steadily take a few steps in attempt to maintain balance

but you still topple over to the couch or the bed, his chest breaking your fall, and you share a sweet laughter as he hugs your waist even tighter.

and this just leads to cuddling each other for the rest of the day <3

ー kirishima eijirou

eijirou definitely flexes his muscles a lot to show off his manlinessー more than that, he LOVES lifting you up 🏋‍♂️

if you mention about feet getting tired or your shoes being too uncomfortable to wear,,

he's already kneeling down, his broad back facing you and hands making little gestures, offering you a piggy-back ride

do not decline the offer bc it fills him an incredible amount of joy when he carries you. bonus if you ask to be carried by extending your arms at him and showing those little grabby hands

when you're walking through a slightly cramped space with him in front of you, he just easily lifts you by your arms so you could pass through

LIKE THIS 🗣

when you two hug, you should already expect your feet to just elevate from the ground 🕴he also enjoys the little squeal you make when he suddenly picks you up with ease.

and he never loses his balance because eijirou is very strong and manly 💪🤬‼

he has insanely good reflexes, especially when it's to protect you.

like when something's about to fall on you, he always catches it on time before it could hit (or even graze) you.

he also never fails to catch you in his arms when you trip and doesn't make much of a big deal out of it too

he'll just go, "woah, you okay? 😯" before letting out a light chuckle when you tell him you're okay.

but he'll place a protective hand on the small of your back and hold your hand tighter so you won't trip again.

eijirou always knows when you feel sad or tired or just ready to end the day

so when you take a long-awaited power nap in the afternoon while ashido and your friends ask your boyfriend where you are, maybe to pull you into another shenanigan of some sort

eijirou will decline with a polite smile,"y/n's taking a nap! i think we should let them rest."

and if anyone insists on waking you up, his smile will drop to a frown, and he'll decline with a more stern and blunt manner, contrary to the usual beaming smile he wears with you.

TAGLIST :: @uxavity @joykamado

join my taglist! i have a taglist now 🤠❗

[not-a-space-alien]

All Creatures Great and Small (Watch Your Step #2) Chapter 1: Net Nanny

Thank you to everyone waiting so patiently for the next chapter of Watch Your Step!! Story #2 is here: It's called All Creatures Great and Small. If you are already on the tag list from the previous story, I will keep you on the tag list for the next one (unless you request to be removed from it) and it will have the same masterpost. It is the direct continuation of Watch Your Step (I've decided this is the name of the series and the first story in it, creative I know.)

As always thanks to my collaborator @static-stars and my beta/sensitivity reader @appelsiinilight! <3 And special thanks to @ratcatcher0325 for some beta reading on these next few chapters as well!!

Hope you all enjoy!

Story masterpost

AO3 link

“P….Please, Marcy!  Please!”

Marcy looked down at the little fairy, kneeling in a pleading position at her feet, looking straight up at her with tearful eyes.  He looked particularly small right next to her foot.  He clapped his hands together in a begging gesture.

“...I’m sorry,” said Marcy.

Thistle yelled dramatically and bent over as though struck, laying down on the floor.  “But Maaaaaaarcyyyyyyyyy…”

“If you’d said something earlier, I could have made arrangements to work from home today, but I have to go in for sure today.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me.  This is cruel and inhumane.”

“Thistle.”

“If no one is home to sign for my package, then it will go back to the post office!  And then I can’t get it until someone can drive to the post office when it’s open, and who knows when that will be!  It could be as late as tomorrow!  Marcy!”

Marcy very gently used her foot to scoot Thistle out of the way so she could put her shoes on.  “I’m sure you’ll survive if you can’t get your package until tomorrow.”

A stormy look on his face, Thistle lay there splayed out.  “I will.”

“What did you order, anyway?  I’m positive you’re not making enough money through Teddy’s Etsy shop to afford anything expensive enough that it needs to be signed for.”

Looking offended, Thistle rose off the floor like a vampire from a coffin.  “Ha!  Shows what you know!  Humans can’t get enough of my very tiny carved animals!”

Marcy’s eyes went to his little workstation in the living room, where several of his works were in the process of being painted.  Marcy had read the Etsy reviews; everyone who bought them was amazed at how tiny the details on them were.  Teddy had to pretend that she made them, of course, but she gave Thistle all the money from them.  “Geez, start paying rent then.”

Thistle leapt up, beating his wings and scrabbling up onto the banister.  “It does not need to be signed for because it is expensive.  It needs it because it is live.”

“....Thistle, what did you order?!”

The front door banged open as Colin, who’d just walked out the door for work, came right back in.  “Hey, T, I caught this guy with a package for you on my way out.  I signed for it.”

Thistle clapped, vibrating with excitement.  “They are here already!  Oh!”

He rocketed past Marcy and smacked into Colin’s chest, tumbling down onto the top of the white parcel the human was now carrying.  “Woah, bud!  Slow down there.”

Colin walked over and set the package on the table.  Thistle righted himself and started tearing madly at the tape sealing the package.  “Colin!  Colin, get some scissors!”

“Sheesh!”  Colin walked over to Teddy’s desk and opened the drawer, pawing through it.  “What did you order?”

“I’m also very curious to hear this,” said Marcy darkly.

“Gimme!” he said, frantically making grabby hands.  “Gimme gimme gimme!”

Marcy came over and scooped Thistle up.  “All right, let Colin open it.  You know what happened the last time you tried to use full-size scissors.”

Thistle righted himself and peered over Marcy’s hand, watching as Colin slid the scissors through the tape.  “Be careful!  Don’t hurt them!”

As soon as the box was open, Thistle jumped into it, his bare feet tapping on something plastic.  He pushed the padding aside, tossing it out, and emerged with a deli container with some long, writhing shapes inside.

“Woah, what are those?” said Colin.

Thistle snapped the lid open excitedly, climbing into it.  “Silkworms!”

“Oh?” said Marcy.

“Bombyx mori.”  He wrapped his hands around one worm’s fat body, holding it aloft.  “One of the few truly domesticated insect species.”

 “Oh, that’s great,” said Marcy.  “Er…are you going to eat them?”

“No!” he said.  “I am a farmer, and this is my livestock.  I cannot eat them until their numbers are higher.”

“...Right.  Uh.  You’re going to breed them?”  

Marcy watched as he draped the silkworm around his shoulders, tossing its butt over one side like it was a fashionable scarf.  The worm’s head bumbled forward absently, snuffling around in confusion.  “They produce the finest silk, no battling spiders required.  They’re soft!  They’re squishy!  They’re tasty!  And just look at them!  They are so cute!  Look at their little hands!”

“I guess they’re kind of cute,” said Colin.  “Just don’t put them on Teddy’s desk.  I’ll see you guys later, all right?”

Marcy said goodbye to his back as he left again, this time not assaulted by any UPS carriers.  Then she turned, kneeling down next to the coffee table.  “Thistle, I kind of wish you had talked to me about this before ordering them.  Aren’t you going to need us to help you with this?”

“No!”  He gently set the worm back down, then stepped out of the container.  “I can order their food, and it’s inexpensive.  It will be very simple.”

“And where are you going to keep them?  What are you going to put them in?”

He scratched his head.  “Oh, um…I guess I hadn’t really thought about that.  They move very slowly.  It does not need to be very secure.  I’m sure there’s something in the house we can use.  Everyone on the forums said they are very easy to take care of, and you can put their eggs in the fridge to simulate winter–”

“The forums?” Marcy said, flabbergasted.  She had removed the parental controls on his phone a while back–he came to her one day to admit he’d discovered a glitch, a tortured, labyrinthine route through various menus and submenus that eventually allowed him to access Google Chrome outside of the parental controls, so she figured he was probably ready to take the training wheels off anyway.

She’d spent an entire day making sure he was ready for it, priming him on internet safety, making sure he understood the finer points of human culture and language and how they manifested online, making sure he understood how money worked and how to avoid scams, and telling him how to identify misinformation before turning him loose.  She’d been relieved that at first, it’d seemed like he thought most of the internet was boring and didn’t find it engaging enough to comment on anything or make penpals. 

But recently he’d been spending more and more time on it.  He was practically glued to it.  Marcy hadn’t been monitoring his activity very closely, just answering all his questions as he brought them up, so he could have some privacy.  And because she did need some time to herself to get her work done.  Maybe that’d been a mistake.  He was on forums?  He was ordering things to the house that he wasn’t fully prepared to deal with?

That freaked her out a little.  She’d assumed he’d mostly been doing more reading, watching more mature television, not…participating in online communities necessarily.  He’d grown astronomically in his understanding of how everything in this new world worked, but it would still be so easy for something to happen…all it’d take would be a simple, easily-avoidable misunderstanding and…

And…

Well, she couldn’t think of what would happen, but surely something, right?

Marcy frowned.  Thistle’s excitement dimmed a little, noting her shift in attitude.  Marcy tried to think of what to say.  “Um…Hey, I think we need to talk about your internet usage.”

Thistle blanched, then skittered off the table and stood in front of his phone.  “No!  You can’t look at my internet history!”

“...Well, that’s not what I meant, but now I’m worried about that.”

He quickly tapped the button to turn the screen off, looking very nervous.  “Uh…It’s, well–it’s, it’s nothing to be worried about, I’m sure!”

Marcy knelt down in front of him.  “Sweetheart, I’m not mad at you.  I’m just concerned.  I’ve made the mistake before of thinking you understood things better than you actually did, because you’re such a smart guy and pick things up so fast.  But it’s my responsibility to make sure you stay safe.  There are some really bad people on the internet.”

He sagged.  “R-right.”

“So when I get home tonight, why don’t we go through your phone together, just so that I can spot anything that looks like it might be a danger you don’t recognize.  Okay?”

He nodded morosely.  “Okay.”

Marcy’s looming hand reached over Thistle’s head and unplugged his phone, lifting it into her purse.  “I’ll hold onto this until then, all right?  Just to take a break until we know–”

“No!” said Thistle.  His face went beet red, eyes wide, ears twitching.  “You–You have to let me delete some items from my browser history first!”

Marcy stared at him for a moment.  His ears went back, pinned against his head.

“I–I mean–” said Thistle, backpedaling, “I promised someone I would message them today and–”

“It’ll just be for a little while, okay?  You have nothing to worry about.  I’ll see if I can come home a little early.”  She stood, zipping her purse closed.  “Okay?”

“Okay,” said Thistle, sounding far away.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

Thistle watched her back dejectedly as she closed the door behind her.  “Well….This isn’t very poggers.”

***

Thistle sat morosely on the couch most of the day, sitting on the very edge and kicking his heels on the cushions.  His glazed-over eyes stared at the TV inattentively.

From the end table, the lid of the fish tank flipped up, and Jewel appeared, resting his elbow on the lip of the tank.  He squirted a jet of water out, almost but not quite managing to splash onto Thistle.  “Hey, bug man.”

Thistle’s eyebrows raised, and he used his whole hand to push the rubberized keys on the remote to turn the TV volume down.  “Hm?”

“Can’t we watch something else?  Downton Abbey is so boring.”

Thistle frowned.  “I need to understand it to be a better friend to Teddy.  No one else in the house watches it to listen to her opinions on it.”

Jewel groaned.  “Can’t you just read a summary of it online?  I’m sure it’s a much faster way to understand it anyway.”

Thistle stood, looking harried, and snapped, “You saw Marcy take my phone!  We’re watching Downton Abbey!”

“Geez,” said Jewel, slapping his tail on the water.  “Cranky because you can’t check social media?”

Thistle turned and crossed his arms indignantly.  “No.”

“Fixing for a dopamine hit?”

“Did you just call me a dope?”

Jewel put a hand to his temple.  “Forget it.  It bothers you that you don’t have it, though.  You’ve gone native.”

“Native to what?”

“It’s a–It’s an expression.”

“Hmph.  Well I can’t look it up, because I don’t have my phone.”

“It just means you’ve moved somewhere else and started acting like the people who live there.”  He extended and contracted his fins.  “Why’d she take it, anyway?  She trying to punish you?”

“No,” said Thistle.  “Apparently I went too far into the internet too fast, and it scared her.”

“Oooh,” said Jewel devilishly.  “Playing with fire?”

“I’m not really even sure what sorts of bad stuff can happen to you on the internet.”

“You can get hacked,” Jewel said helpfully.  “Someone on the other side of the internet on another computer will type very fast on their keyboard, and if they type faster than you, they win and get control of your computer.  It’s in all their movies.”

“How does that even work?”

Jewel put a hand to his puffed up chest.  “It’s called a malware virus.”

Thistle sat down, drawing his knees up to his chest.  “Well, that’s not really what I’m worried about.  I’m more worried about what Marcy will think when she sees my internet search history.”

“Been looking at embarrassing things were we?”

Thistle blushed.

“You should spend less time on that thing anyway,” said Jewel.  “It rots your brain.  All the humans on TV talk about how bad it is to watch TV and look at your phone or computer all day.  It gives you a bad back.  It makes your vision worse.  It gives you carpool tunnel sin dome.”

Thistle furrowed his brows.  “You mean carpal tunnel syndrome?”

Jewel looked caught off-guard.  “Erhm, right, of course.  It’s technically called that too.”

Thistle stared at him.  Previously it’d seemed like Jewel had been so unreachably more knowledgeable about human affairs than him, but now Thistle realized he was limited to just whatever he got from the TV, and the three humans’ conversations–and even then, only the ones they had in the living room.  It’d probably taken him years to reach this point, and Thistle had already surpassed him.  It was shocking, and a little sad.  Why did Jewel imprison himself like that?  When he could come out and do a fuller range of activities?

“You’re one to talk about me needing to spend less time on my phone,” said Thistle.  “You watch TV all day.”

“Well yeah, that’s cuz I’m in the fish tank right next to the TV.  It’s not like I have much else to do.”

“You could pick up a hobby.”

“What, draw like you do?  Underwater?  Knit something out of fish food?  Carve something out of aquarium gravel to sell on Etsy?”

Thistle shrugged. "If you introduced yourself to the humans, I'm sure they'd help you find stuff to do.  They might even give you a phone of your own."

"I don't want a phone. It's weird that you want one."

"It's not weird."

"They’re not made for you!  The thing is the same size as you are!"

“Your anemone is the same size as you are.”

“An anemone and a phone are very different!”

“How so?”

“What?  One is a phone and one is an anemone!  I’m sure you could get some clues as to how they’re different if you use the miraculous investigative devices you have access to called eyes!” 

"Why do you only ever come out of the fish tank to say mean things to me? Or to ask me for a favor?"

Jewel suddenly looked guilty.  "Erm. I'm just teasing you, you know."

Thistle crossed his arms.  "But there are days when we're the only ones home all day and we don't even talk to each other!"

Jewel observed his watery, lonely eyes.  "Erm.  Well it's not like I have anything particularly interesting to say.  Do you want me to fill you in on fishtank drama? The blue tang and the goby are going at it again. Normally Dory is the dominant one, but I think Goober might really have her this time."

Thistle scuffed the couch cushion.  "We could at least play a game or something."

"If you think of a game we can play with me in a fishtank, and that won't alert the humans that I'm here, I'm all for it."

"How about twenty questions?"

Jewel's face creased.  "That’s hardly a game.  A real game.  Games are supposed to be fun.”

Thistle sat there morosely.

"Hey, come on, cheer up, pal. You've got plenty of things to do. You were in the middle of knitting something, weren't you?"

He sadly dragged his knitting back over. "...yeah, I guess I'll work on that."

"Great! See, nothing to be sad about."  He flicked his fins.  "So…no chance I can convince you to flip over to HBO?"

Thistle turned the volume on the TV back up.  "I think I hear Colin on the porch. Better go hide before he sees you. Then you'd have to have a genuine conversation, and suffer the horror of being emotionally vulnerable!"

Jewel scowled at him.  "When did you learn how to be sarcastic?"

Nevertheless, he dropped back into the water and flipped the tank shut.

Colin came home with cut grass stuck all throughout his leg hair.  He stepped inside and went to brush it all off, remembered the huge fuss Teddy had made about grass in the entryway the last time he’d done that, stepped back outside and did it.  Then he came in and almost sat on the couch with his grass-stained pants, but remembered just in time to take them off.

“Ugh,” he said upon coming in.  “Downton Abbey huh?”

Thistle looked at him sullenly, hunching over and kicking his feet.

“Hey, surely it’s not that bad.”

“I’m not sad about watching Downton Abbey.  Marcy took my phone this morning.”

“Oh no!”

“She’s going to look through my internet history.”

Colin’s eyes widened.  “There’s nothing more sacred than a man’s internet history.”

Thistle hid his face in his hands.  “She’s going to kick me out.”

“What!  No, I’m sure she won’t.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve been Googling.”

“Surely it can’t be anything that bad.”

Thistle looked up at him darkly.

“...that bad huh?”

***

As the hours at work passed, Marcy started feeling increasingly guilty.  She had Thistle's phone on her desk next to her own, the screen occasionally flashing with a notification sliding over the background photo, which was of a game night they had had a while back.  It was focused on Marcy and Thistle, both of them looking happy. 

She was starting to question everything.  Had he shared this photo with anyone online?  Was it even safe for there to be photos of him in existence at all?  She’d been gradually loosening her supervision of him as he grew to understand more and more, but maybe that’d been a mistake.  Maybe she needed to do more to keep him safe.

But the guilt still gnawed at her for taking his device.  Was she his parent?  No.  Right?  If not, then what was she?  His friend?  Roommate?  Guardian?  Caretaker?  Something else?  

Thistle was probably also struggling to figure out the nature of their relationship.  Marcy still wasn’t entirely sure what sort of relationships people like Thistle even formed.  Neither of them had any frame of reference for what to expect from the kind of relationship they had–because no one had ever had their kind of relationship before, as far as they knew.  It would be easy to say she had the right to take his phone if she were his parent, and easy to say she didn’t have the right if he were her significant other.

Did she have the right to take it, and to violate his privacy?  She had the responsibility of keeping him safe, so surely she had the right to do things that she needed to do to make that happen.

…right?

She started to send him a message apologizing for taking his device to work, only to remember halfway through why that wouldn’t work. 

By the time 4PM rolled around, she hadn’t finished the work she needed done to leave early, but she left anyway.  When she got home, Colin accosted her at the door.

“Marcy, you can’t look through someone’s internet history.  That’s private.  That’s just between a man and God.  And Google.”

Marcy pushed Colin out of the way.  “All right, why don’t you let me and Thistle talk about this.  Since it’s his phone and all.”

Thistle came pattering out of the living room, leaping up onto a side table and accidentally knocking into a picture frame, both of them tumbling over with an oof.  As Marcy bent down to ask if he was okay, he righted himself and shouted up at her.  “Marcy, you’re not going to like what you see in there!  You’re–You can’t be exposed to that!  You’ll think of me differently!”

Marcy got a wry smile on her face.  “Thistle, I promise you I’ve seen weird shit online before.  I won’t judge you.  Come on, let’s go talk about this upstairs, okay?”

Colin watched resignedly as Marcy scooped Thistle up, mounting the stairs.  She went into her room and shut the door behind her, then plopped her purse onto the desk.  Thistle climbed into it and clung to his device.  “Marcy!  You can’t!  You can’t look at it!  You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Marcy reached in and lifted the device out with her pointer finger and thumb, moving both it and Thistle bodily out and onto the desk.  “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Yes I do!”

Marcy sat at the chair, scooting it in.  She sighed.  “If you really, really don’t want me to, then I won’t…But it would make me feel a lot better.”

Thistle averted his eyes.

“I know you’re an adult, but you’re still on new territory here.  You don’t have the same instinctual understanding of humans as a human would.  Even experienced humans need some guidance on how to use technology sometimes.  You don’t think it would be useful?”

He folded himself up, sitting on the desk with his knees drawn up to his chest.  “I…Well…I will admit there are still a lot of things I don’t understand.”

“Can we just go through your phone together and you can show me some of the stuff you’ve been doing?  You’ve been on it so much lately.  I feel like we haven’t been as connected lately.  It’d be nice to see what you’ve been doing.”

Thistle bit his lip.  “I…Okay.  Okay, go ahead.”

Marcy turned the screen towards him, and he punched in the code to unlock it.

The screen opened onto a Google Chrome tab.  It was open to the wikipedia page for Bombyx mori.  “See?” said Marcy.  “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Thistle was wearing a miniature replica of one of Marcy’s hoodies that he’d sewn for himself; he flipped the hood up over his head and pulled the strings tight to draw the sides in and hide his face with a moan.

Marcy tapped the tabs icon to see what else he had open.  The browser had run out of room to display the number of tabs that were open, and as she scrolled up an uncountable number of windows flew by.  “Uh…”

“It’s research.  It’s all research.  It’s just research.  My tabs are for research.”

They were mostly tabs of Google search results.  Marcy started with the ones at the top and read down.

Spider silk 

Can you buy spider silk online?

What other bugs make silk?

Can I make silk?

Can I buy silk?

Marcy turned towards him.  “Thistle, if you wanted silk, you could have asked me to help you get some.  I know that’s something you’d probably love to make clothes out of.”

“I wanted to do it on my own!”

She nodded.  “Okay.  That’s fine.  I’m not mad at you.  I just want to make sure you feel like you can ask me for help.”  She returned to the phone.

Silkworms

Bombyx mori

Silkmoth

Moth

What to silkworms taste like?

Breeding silkmoths ?

Silkmoths for sale

Silkmothmreproduction

Silkmoth genitalia 

Human genitalia

Human vs insect genitalia

Cloaca

Cloaca vs vagina

Cloaca vs anus

Do I have a cloaca?

Do I have vagina?

Am I transgender?

Do i have a penis?

aedeagus 

aedeagus  vs penis

Intersexual

Transexual

Penis diagram

Human penis diagram

Human breast diagram

Nipple diagram

What are nipples for?

Boob picture

Big boob picture

Tits pornhub

Marcy’s face grew red and her belly started to shake with laughter.  She had made such a huge deal about reassuring Thistle he didn’t need to be embarrassed that she could not make him feel embarrassed, but she was having a damn hard time keeping a straight face.  Beside her hand, Thistle curled more tightly into a ball, not even tracking her progress, having already given up the ghost.

What is triple X?

XXX?

What is bbw?

There was a pause in the timestamps for a few hours.  Then:

What is crypto?

What is cryptocurrency?

NFT

NFT meaning

NFT purchase

Why would someone pay that much money for a picture of an ape?

Systemic wealth inequality in the United States

Capitalism 

Socialism

It went on like this for a while.  It was like reading a train of thought writing exercise.  Marcy cleared her throat.  Thistle peered out from under his hood, like an explosion survivor looking out from under a bomb shelter.

“It’s okay to be curious,” said Marcy.  “You don’t have to be ashamed.”

Thistle hid his face with his hoodie sleeves.

“Let’s just maybe see if we can get some antivirus on here.  You haven’t been clicking on ads, have you?”

“No!” Thistle insisted, shooting up.  “I know there aren’t any horny MILFs in my area!  I know I didn’t win a giveaway!  I won’t get the malware virus!” 

Marcy finally let herself burst into laughter.  Thistle grew red, standing rigid.

“I’m sorry,” Marcy.  “You’re fine, it’s nothing wrong.”

A message popped up in the notification pane, from an instant messaging service.  The body of the message just read:

Is everything okay?  It didn’t upset you that I asked that, did it?

“Who’s this?” said Marcy.

Thistle sheepishly tucked his limbs close to his body, rubbing his arm.  “Oh that’s…that’s a friend I was talking to online.”

“Can I read the messages they sent you?”

He hesitated, then nodded.

Marcy swiped up to see the conversation.  There was a series of messages from this morning, just before Thistle had begged her to stay home from work, which Marcy had to read in reverse order and piece together.

My silkworms are coming today!  I am SO EXCITED!!!

YES WORM TIME!!!!

They are sooo much bigger than the beetle larvae i already have!

I still can’t believe you eat those.  Gross /j  How big tho???

Three inches!! Massive!!

Woah!!!  How big are the beetle ones?

Almost an inch at biggest!!

Can i see a pic of one in your hand?

No!! Sorry!

?

Is everything okay?  It didn’t upset you that I asked that, did it?

As Marcy read, the typing icon popped up and the conversation continued: You normally reply pretty fast, I know you have things going on but I just wanted to make sure

“Do you want to reply?” said Marcy, turning the phone towards him.

Ears pinned back against his head, as though he were caught doing something wrong, he bit his lip and stepped forward, trepidatiously swiping on the screen.  He paused for a moment, then looked up at her.  “You can look at it.”

She turned it towards herself to see a few new lines had been added:

Sorry, I was busy with Marcy.  She is here reading my messages

OMG!!!  Hi Marcy!!!  Tell her I said hi!!!

“They seem nice,” said Marcy.  “Where did you meet?”

“We were talking about bugs online,” said Thistle, then very quickly added, “I didn’t tell her I’m not human or anything.  She doesn’t have any information she can use to hurt me.”

“Good,” said Marcy.  “I’m glad you’re having fun talking to people online.  Just be safe.  Can I maybe see her profile?  Is there anyone else you’ve been talking to?  I can look through any messages you want to share to see if I spot anything you might have missed.”

Thistle fidgeted.  “You–You want to see her profile?”

“Yeah, what sites are you active on now?”

Thistle went between her hands and sat cross-legged, navigating the phone like it were the control panel of a giant spaceship.  He navigated to various trendy social media sites to show her.  (The author will decline to specify which sites for fear of guessing incorrectly and revealing a profound ignorance of internet trends.)

“This is her profile,” said Thistle, again sounding like he was admitting to a shameful crime.  “Her username is Snoofae, but she told me to call her Sierra.”

Marcy felt her heart sinking as she read the profile.  This was clearly a roleplaying account of some sort; the page was filled with posts about fairies, pretending to be a fairy, and fairy aesthetic.  

Marcy had heard of the concept of otherkin briefly in passing, but never really took any closer look into it.  She’d always thought it was a little weird, and she made the nebulous connection when she saw a lot of “Sierra’s” posts about being a fairy were tagged with the words faekin and fairycore

Marcy suddenly panicked, imagining Thistle talking to mentally unstable weirdos online.  This person seemed to genuinely believe she was a fairy…and it looked like Thistle had been talking to her as though she were one, too.  That could be dangerous.

But how to explain this….It would probably upset him to learn this person wasn’t an actual fairy, when he was so starved for connections.

“Um,” she said.  She gently wrapped her hand around him.  “I–Well, this is hard to explain, but…This person isn’t actually a fairy.  Sometimes people will go online and pretend to be fantasy creatures like fairies.  Sometimes they believe it so hard they talk about it like it’s true–”

Thistle’s face scrunched up, and he turned away from her.

“I’m sorry,” said Marcy.  “I know you were probably excited to–Well, you’re probably the only actual fairy on the internet, and it’s important you keep in mind–”

“Marcy,” said Thistle, voice wobbling.

“I know it must be disappointing, but I just want to make sure you know–”

“I know!”  He turned back towards her, eyes misty.  “I know she’s not a fairy, Marcy.  It’s obvious just by the way she talks she’s not actually a fairy.  Why can’t you just let me pretend?”

Marcy was gobsmacked.  “You…know already?”

“I’m inexperienced, Marcy, I’m not stupid.”

He pushed at her hand.  She withdrew it.  “Oh…I’m sorry.  Are you…Are you really that lonely?”

Thistle’s lip wobbled.  “I just–”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“You three are nice and all, but–”

“You don’t have to explain, it makes perfect sense.”

His ears drooped.  “It’s just–it’s difficult spending all my time around people who are so much bigger than me.”

Marcy got down on her knees, chin on her hand on the desk.  “If I knew anyone else the same size as you, I’d bring them over.”

Thistle bit his lip.  “Maybe there’s–Er, a fi-fish, um, no, I mean…Er, well–well if they wanted to come, of course.”

Marcy’s eyebrows shot up.  “Er–right, of course.”

They stood there staring awkwardly at each other.  A notification dinged on Thistle’s phone.

“Oh no,” said Marcy, reading it.  “Have you been talking to people in YouTube comments?”

He rubbed his foot against the floor.  “A-a little bit.”

“YouTube comments are a cesspool.”  She clicked the notification.  “Can I look at what you were watching?”

He nodded.

The video loaded.  Marcy’s eyes widened, her blood turned to ice as it resumed.

It was the employee from the electronics store who’d seen Thistle.  He was being interviewed by somebody.

“What–What is this?”

The microphone briefly pulled away from the employee, and the camera panned towards the interviewer.  “What’s up, Truth-seekers, it’s me, the Investigator, here for another–”

Marcy paused the video, dumbfounded, frozen to the spot.  “Thistle…?”

Thistle wrung his hands.

“Did you…comment on this video?”

“Maybe once or twice.  Or three times.  Or a few…”

Marcy scrolled down to find that Thistle, under the username TinyGuy42069, had left a series of dozens of insulting and rage-filled comments on the video.  Multiple users who were apparently fans of the man who made the video had ganged up on him, arguing with him through equally hostile comments.  And the most recent one, which had been posted while Marcy had his phone at work, read, chillingly:

Lol this dude’s IP address puts him in the town where this was filmed, what are you hiding?

———————————–

Tag list

@cloudwatchingtoday   @theepiccreatorofmagic-blog-blog  @waitisthatgt @itssmoltime @ratcatcher0325  @alarcomet  @borrowerbecca @crazytinygirl @bittykimmy13 @cheeseybeans8 @whumpsday @theroyaleemily

[mellowpiepizzalamp]

period tryings

Summary: The male avengers trying period cramps.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, my rubbish writing (it’s a warning)

Word count: ~700 words

A/N: I was suffering from heavy period cramps and I felt the need to write this, I used the “this isn’t bad” thuff from other reviews, pls don’t come at me. 

“No way cramps are worse than getting kicked in the balls,” Steve said to Nat, Pepper, Maria and y/n as Wanda entered. 

“I don’t have any context but are you serious? That’s bullshit,” Pepper said. 

“I was laying on the couch suffering from severe period cramps when Steve thought it was a good idea to tell me it was nothing,” Wanda said and readjusted her heating pad. 

“I've never had a period because my reproduction organs were ripped out before I could have one so I'm anonymous about this because I think they hurt,” Nat said. 

“Wait, I have one of those things to simulate cramps in my lab,” Tony said and ran away. 

“We'll see how you'll talk after you feel it,” Wanda said and leaned into y/n’s hug. Tony returned with the thing and attached it to Steve's abdomen. 

“Since he's a supersoldier I think you need to skip the first few levels,” Wanda grumped. Tony smiled and put it to a five. 

“Ah fuck,” Steve said as his abs moved. 

“Wait, how do we know those are the same as normal period cramps?” Bruce asked. 

“Y/n you test it and say what's comparable to yours?” Tony asked and she nodded.

“Okay, here's it on the second level,” Tony said when the stickers were placed. 

“Is it on?” She asked. 

“Yes, you don't feel it? I'm turning it up now,” Tony said and turned it up to a three. 

“Oh yes I can feel it, it's nothing,” she said and Tony turned it up again to a five. 

“This is like the cramps you get when it's almost over, at least for me,” she laughed and looked at Wanda. Eventually, they turned it up to almost the highest setting. 

“Yeah, this is not that bad, this is like they aren't that bad, I go to work with this,” she nodded.

Turning it to the highest setting, “Yeah, for me this is when it’s quite bad,” she said and took the stickers off and handed them to Tony. 

“Well Steve, you heard her, let's go seven to start,” Tony smiled deviously. 

“Fine,” said and clutched his stomach when Tony turned it on. 

“Ah, ah, fuck.” 

“Turning it up all the way now.” 

“Ah fuck get it off of me you son of a bitch,” Steve said while he went on his knees and almost ripped the stickers off. 

“For a supersoldier that’s supposed to have a high pain tolerance you’re not doing great, steve,” Tony grinned. 

“I heal fast stark, the serum also heightened my senses, thus feel more,” he shot back.

“Sam, you want to try?” Tony asked. To Sam, he did the same thing and it cheered Wanda up to see men's respect for women grow. Bucky had entered and stood behind y/n with her wrapped up in his arms as he watched the others. 

“Barnes? You want to try?” Tony asked. Bucky doubted for a second, think of when y/n had her cramps and how bad they seemed, he wanted to know. 

“Alright,” he said softly and walked over to Tony. He felt y/n’s gaze on him as he lifted his shirt for the stickers, and smiled at her. Tony started low and Bucky grunted when he felt the unpleasant sensation. 

Tony kept turning it up and at seven he was already clutching the countertop. Y/n walked over and held his hand for support while silently laughing. At the highest setting, he was losing it and was kneeling on the ground. 

“Y/n how do you do this?” He asked with a grunt. 

“That's not the worst, but when it is like how I feel like this I want to curl up too.” She soothed and stroked his back. 

“Take them off,” he said as another strike hit. She gently peeled the stickers off when Tony turned it off. 

“That was horrible,” he said and tried to stand up. Y/n helped him and gave him a kiss to lessen the pain.

[palbabor-writes]

Quarter-Century

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mild heavy petting, but this is pretty tame, oh & lots of fluff, likely enough to kill someone, so watch out for that, k?

What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do.

Words: 3754

Notes: if i call this a drabble are y’all gonna get mad at me? 

Quarter-Century quar·ter-cen·tu·ry /ˈkwôrdər/ - /ˈsen(t)SH(ə)rē/ noun  a period of 25 years

Twenty-five.  

It’s always spoken about like it’s some kind of milestone. Eh, it’s just another year, Kiyoomi thinks, tugging his sweaty shirt off of his back and walking toward the MSBY team dressing room, there’s nothing special about it. 

He’d woken up at 5:25, taken his first shower, kissed your sleeping form absentmindedly on the cheek before he left the bedroom, and jogged the three miles to the training facility.

He’d worked on his digs, on his jump float, and looked over the drills. The team had two practice games and had huddled up for the review at the end, the same as always. As Kiyoomi made his way out of the locker room Atsumu and Bokuto had both clapped him on the back, joking about the fleeting joys of ‘youth,’ and congratulating him on his performance on the court before they all went their separate ways, each gliding along their own trajectory. 

No, there’s nothing special about birthdays.

You’re not back from work when he gets home, so Kiyoomi pads around the empty apartment, flitting from room to room, disjointedly flipping on lights and switching them back off seconds later. It’s like he can’t make up his mind. Should he take a nap? He could sleep off these uncharacteristic and frustrating jitters that keep coursing through him. No, he reconsiders naps just make him groggy and irritable. What else?

He’s showered twice today, there’s no need for another, and it looks like you’d cleaned up the living room and kitchen before you’d left for the day, so there’s nothing for him to clean either. Ugh, what’s with this restlessness? 

There are old matches that he can watch, already primed and loaded onto his laptop, but it’s charging in the bedroom, likely tucked under some of your leaflets and various heapings of paperwork. It’d be a pain to move everything.

Eh, he could start a puzzle, maybe flip through some channels, see what’s on TV, and there’s that book that you’d told him he should check out, he’s weeks behind on starting that, but it’s in the bedroom too, and–

Damn it. It feels like he’s stuck in some kind of loop.

He flops down on the couch, tipping his dark head back, obsidian curls fanning around his forehead as he stares up at the ceiling. What’s with him today? It’s just another day. After all, birthdays don’t matter when you’re this old, right? It’s not like he’s a kid. He doesn’t need a party, doesn’t really want one either. Besides, you’ve likely got something planned, you always do. He smiles at that thought, running his hands through his hair and letting out a deep exhale. It’ll be alright, he reasons, you’ll get back and he’ll shake himself out of this funk, and then maybe he can–

The sudden scrape of the lock turning makes him jump, and he pops his head up just as you step through the door, a smattering of canvas bags tucked under your coiled hands. You spot him as you tap the door closed, a broad grin lighting up your face. “Hey there!” you call out, stepping toward the kitchen to deposit your purchases. “Did you just get home? Practice go okay?” 

“It went well,” Kiyoomi replies, hunching forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That reminds me, the next match is this weekend, you still planning on going?”

“Yeah!” you confirm, tucking a few things into the fridge before you pace over to his seated figure. “It’s right before the playoffs start, so it’ll likely be one of the last ones I can get a good seat to. Once you guys get in those end of season bouts it gets...Hey, you sure you’re alright? You look a little, I don’t know, downcast?” You kneel in front of him, your hands reaching, stroking gently over his hair and down his jaw. 

“I’m fine. Feel a little...off...is all. Happens.”

“Off?” you question, bright eyes finally catching his onyx. “Well, we can’t have that. Not today!”

“Hmph, it’s just a Saturday,” Kiyoomi huffs, catching your wrists and lowering your hands from his face. 

“Yes,” you continue, watching as he distractedly toys with your hands, trailing his thumbs over your fingers and flipping your palms this way and that within his hold. “It’s also a Saturday where I’ve played the role of good– no great, girlfriend and got us some tickets! Surprise!”

“Tickets?” he echoes, his head cocking to the side as he lifts his gaze back to yours. “To what? If it’s some kinda concert, not to be an ass, but I don’t really want to go to a–”

“Really?” you deadpan, arching an eyebrow at his morose expression. “You think, after two years of dating, that I’d take you to a concert? You? Kiyoomi Sakusa, the man who is pretty much allergic to crowds, who completely dipped out of a shoe store once because there were five people in the ‘athletic wear’ section, who abhors the mere thought of tight spaces and groups of twenty or more, thought that I, his loving partner, decided to put some some color into his living nightmares, and on his birthday no less, by bringing him to a concert?”

Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and exhales a tight laugh. “When you put it that way, no. But on the off chance that you did, and you’re trying to bluff your way out of the situation by over elaborating your reasons for not bringing me, well…I’m gonna have to decline the gift.”

You narrow your eyes at his impassive face and purse your lips. “And to think, I was gonna come over here and give you a kiss and everything.” 

“You’ll still give me one,” Kiyoomi smarts, a coquettish smirk lifting his lips when you openly scoff at him. “So, out with it, what are the tickets to?”

“Oh? Now you wanna know? Suddenly you’re curious. Well you can hold on to that buddy, cuz’ I’m not gonna tell you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Why should I?”

“It’s my birthday,” he intones simply, broad palms already sliding up your arms, pulling you closer. You smell nice, Kiyoomi thinks, lips barely missing your own as you twist playfully away from him.

“Pfft, what happened to ‘it’s just a Saturday?’” you tease, following his insistent tugs, one knee pressing down into the cushions of the couch as you lower yourself over his lap. 

“Changed my mind,” Kiyoomi states, finally catching you and caressing his lips sinfully against yours. “I’m allowed to do that,” he continues, sucking a rasp from you as he drags his sharp teeth across the plush swell of your lower lip. “Mmm, you might have gotten a little distracted, so let me repeat my question: what are the tickets to?” 

He is genuinely interested; he wants to know what you’ve planned for the two of you, but his hands have already started that downward journey, long digits stroking over the curves that flow down your side, cupping and pulling just the way you like. Your knees lift when he buries his fingertips into the flesh of your upper thighs and you sigh, breath warm against his flushed cheeks. 

Actually, this is fine. After all, he’s good at this. He’s had plenty of time to learn you, to practice, and he loves that he knows just what to do to make you quake between his heated palms. But when he jerks you closer, your lips slip from his and you’re careful to brace yourself away, momentarily safe from his distracting caresses. 

“Baseball,” you pant, hands resting over the hard plane of his pectorals.

“Huh?” he queries, heavy brows furrowing, wholly distracted by the rise and fall of your uneven breaths and the gentle twitch of your spread legs against his hips. 

“A baseball game. I got us tickets to a baseball game.”

“It’s smaller than what I was picturing,” Kiyoomi says, adjusting the placement of his mask before looking down at you. “And what are you gonna do with that bag? Can you even take that in here?”

You laugh at his question, hoisting the thick strap of your insulated pack higher on your shoulder. “It’s the Yomiuri Giants, they’re part of the minor league so it’s a smaller stadium and don’t worry, they let you bring coolers and snacks in.”

“Eh? Snacks? Don’t they have concessions? Seems counter-productive if they let you bring your own food. How are they supposed to make money? Atsumu said that half of our vendors make a good deal of their revenue from their booths during the playoffs and the regular season. So I don’t see how that’s practical. What do you have in there, anyway? It looks heavy. Oh. Did you want me to carry it?”

“I’m not sure which one of those I should answer first,” you grin, dodging his extended hand and stepping forward. “Come on, I think we can head in now.”

The seats are located in the shade of the upper deck, right behind the third base, giving you both a perfect bird's-eye view of the action that will take place down on the field below. True to your word, the ticket inspectors had let you and your pack pass through without a word of protest, and as he flipped down his plastic seat, you carefully tucked the thick canvas between the two of you. 

“What’s in it?” he asked again, peering over your shoulder as you unzipped the long teeth and reached into the dark depths, hands searching for something. 

“You’ll see,” you promise, leaning back once you found your prize, a small bottle of hand sanitizer. You pop the lid up and nod for his palms, carefully pressing some of the clear antiseptic onto his hands. “Game should start soon,” you inform, repeating the cleaning process yourself before closing the top and tossing the bottle back into the bag. “And I wanna make sure you’re set before I head down to the concession stands.”

“So it’s food,” he determines, slipping his mask off of his face, tucking it under his chin, an appreciative smile winding its way up his lips. 

“Of course it is! You think I’d leave you to languish for 9 innings while I sit beside you, gorging myself on the delicious food they sell at the concessions, which you refuse to eat? Alas, not even I am that cruel. Nah, I brought something that I hope you’ll like.”

“I’ll like it,” Kiyoomi replies, resting his muscled shoulder against yours, watching as you arrange a few clear sets of Tupperware in your hands, lifting them evenly out of the bag. 

“Careful,” you jab, tossing him a mischievous grin. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Kiyoomi shrugs. “It’s from you; I’ll like it.”

Your hands still after his declaration and you twist your head back to him, eyes wide, searching his placid expression. “Okay,” you laugh, setting the Tupperware aside, fully turning to him and wrapping an arm around his neck, your other hand cupping his cheek, pulling him down to your seeking lips. “That was too much. There some sort of class you stoic types take? How to make others swoon in five lessons, or less?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, prying your hands from him. “It’s true. No need to make a big deal about it. You put a lot of effort into today, and I...I just think that...I mean...thanks,” he finishes lamely, dark eyes balefully avoiding yours. You chuckle again and reward him with another peck to his cheek.  

“So cute.”

“Stop it,” he grumbles, a faint blush staining his cheeks. “Weren’t you gonna show me something? Better hurry. After all, there’s still time for me to mess it up.”

“What does that mean?” you puzzle, pulling away.

“I dunno. I always say the wrong shit. You know that.”

“Well,” you ponder, tapping a finger against your chin. “We’re at a baseball game, so, in the spirit of the sport, why don’t I give you three strikes?”

“Just three? I mean, wow, that’s so generous of you.”

You flash him a quick glare, tutting your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Oooh, swing and a miss. Strike one!”

He’s just about to give you some retort when you press two of the containers into his hands. The heat of the plastic feels nice against his calloused palms, and he can see the fresh steam that surrounds the food that’s waiting inside. “Onigiri?” he questions, popping the lid, mouth watering at the sight of all of that pristine rice. Damn, when did you have time to make these?

“Homemade onigiri with pickled plums,” you inform him, a gleeful smile lighting up your face, pleased that he’s already reaching for one, a look of genuine happiness falling over his usually impassive expression.

“You remembered,” he murmurs, picking up the carefully shaped ball and lifting it to his lips. He bites into the fluffy rice, fastidiously letting the flavors fall over his tongue and across his pallet. It’s perfect, he thinks as he chews, just the right amount of pickled savoriness and clean, delicate grains. Damn, when did you do all of this?

You let him finish the first onigiri before you pass him a can of beer. It’s chilled, likely sitting toward the bottom of the bag, and he flicks a stray chip of ice off of the rim. A sealed can of beer, a carefully packed meal. Is there anything you haven’t thought of?

He’s just about to turn, to tell you that...well, he’s not sure what exactly. Maybe it is something about how lucky he is. How he’s somehow stumbled into something so sublime, so wonderful, as you, and how he should tell you that more, when you stand. 

“I’m going to hop down to the food stands. Inning should open up any minute. I’m glad this is an off season game, we’ve pretty much got this whole deck to ourselves! Be right back, ‘kay?”

He nods, eyes lingering on your hands, your smile, your eyes, just everything that he can see that’s you, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t. What’s he gonna say? Don’t go? Stay here. He’ll go down. 

He’ll do whatever you want; anything for you, anything.

You tilt your head at his stony, almost stricken expression, but you don’t comment on it, content with tucking one of his stray curls behind his ear before you spring up the steps, stepping away from his overwhelmed and utterly entranced form. 

Damn. 

He’s scrolling through his phone when the 1st inning ends, thumb whisking over the lists of required paperwork, the $50 dollar notarial fee, the Kon-in Todoke, mentally counting up the required signatures, the necessary witnesses. This is crazy, he thinks, skimming over the U.S. Embassy & Consulate regulations on the ‘Affidavit of Competency to Marry’ in Japan, he hasn’t even talked with you about this, but he’s honestly never felt more sure of anything in his life.

Right as he flips to a secondary tab, one that holds a few jewelry stores and ideas about ‘how to pop the question,’ he catches sight of you. You slide down the row of empty seats, your hands filled with various snacks and a tall glass of foaming beer. 

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting to take that long, I completely missed the 1st inning! Good thing no one scored. Hopefully things will liven up with the 2nd and 3rd innings.” You settle in beside him, setting your beer against the cold concrete before jostling your popcorn and hot dog to your opposite hand, eyes peering over the brightly lit field. 

Kiyoomi bites back his grin and switches his phone off, obscuring the glittering pixels of diamonds and his future plans from view and tucks his device into his jacket pocket. You turn to look at him, your eyes narrowing and brow arching at his poorly controlled attempts to hide his giddiness. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” he replies, slinging a long arm around your shoulders, tugging you close and planting a quick kiss against your temple.

“Liar,” you accuse, leaning back, eyes following the sharp angles of his handsome face.

“What made you pick baseball? You feeling homesick or something?”

“Hmph, no! I just...hmm, how to put this. I figured it’d be nice to take you to a game that’s not volleyball. One that we can just watch. There’s no need to worry about analyzing anyone’s performance, or your own here…you can just relax.”

Kiyoomi cocks his head at you, a few errant curls falling over his brow. “Do I do that when we go to a volleyball game?”

You nearly choke on your beer. “Mmm...koff...do you do that? Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“Yeah,” he affirms, obsidian eyes watching you closely. Wait, is he a pain to go to a game with?

“Kiyoomi?”

“Hmm.”

“I wasn’t about to take you to a volleyball game for your birthday. That’d be like you taking me back to the office and asking me to celebrate with you in the staff break room. I mean, I know you love the sport, but it’s your job. It’s what you do all day. Besides, the last time we went to a match I don’t think you said more than five words to me and you were constantly writing down the plays on your phone. I–Oh! That’s not a bad thing, not at all! It makes sense,” you amend, catching sight of his abruptly ashen expression. 

“It’s just...you’re good...no good doesn’t cut it...you’re amazing at what you do. You’ve got that hunger that all the sports documentaries I’ve ever watched talk about and you’re constantly looking to improve. It’s impressive, really! But...I just thought this might be a change of pace. Something that we could both go to, could watch, with no additional stakes. Who cares who wins? I mean, I want the home team to, obviously, but we can leave here when it’s over and just take memories, not more worries or challenges. And definitely not any notes. Sorry, that prolly’ sounds so rude, but I really want you to relax today. You more than deserve it.”

“It’s perfect,” Kiyoomi confirms, finally leaning back against the strong plastic of his seat, pulling you closer, bringing his knee toward your thigh, pressing until he can feel the heat of you past the material of his jeans. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” you laugh. “It’s the least I could do. If you’re happy, then I’m happy! Oh! Speaking of, you gotta try this beer! It’s so good!”

He looks skeptically down at the plastic glass that’s still clutched between your fingers. “No. I’m not drinking out of that cup.”

“Kiyoomi,” you begin, fixing him with a hard stare. “You know we live together, right? If I pick anything up from this, then, and I hate to tell you this, but you’ll get it too, eventually.”

With a scoffed exhale and a curl of his lip he leans away from you, nose wrinkling distastefully at your threat.

“Come on,” you taunt, shaking the cup playfully in your hand, “You won’t regret it!”

“No.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, you know that?”

“Never heard that before,” he laughs, coiling himself toward you, his arm around your back, squeezing you closer, holding on as tight as he can. 

It’s dark when the two of you get back home, but you won’t let him flip on the overhead lights, not yet. “Just wait, gimme a sec. There’s one more thing I wanna do...why don’t you go sit on the couch. I’ll turn on the lamp and be right back, promise.”

Obediently, he perches on the edge of the cushions and waits. 

He can hear you as you move around the kitchen, and he feels like he can still feel the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. Throughout the game, on the cab ride home, as he stood behind you in the darkened hallway, waiting for you to unlock the door, he’d kept his hands on you. It was like you were some kind of magnet and he couldn’t help but be tugged forward by your irresistible pull. 

“Hey! Close your eyes!” you call, feet soft against the wood as you pad back to him. He shakes his head at your request, a faint smile pulling at his lips, but he obliges you. How can he not? “No peeking,” you warn, and he it’s like he can almost feel you again as you come to stand in front of him once more. “Alright…I think that’s good. Now...open them!”

The space in front of him is bathed in a soft glow, with whisking yellows and gentle oranges dancing, flickering across your arms. The light from the candle illuminates your face, catching against your eyes and making them shine, and he’s honestly not sure if he’s breathing anymore. 

“I know it’s not much,” you justify, cupping your fingers around the delicate flame and lifting the cupcake toward him. “But I learned my lesson last year. Got you that huge cake and the leftovers languished in the fridge for almost a week. And you know what they say, less is more, right?”

Without thinking, his hands race forward, gripping your waist and pulling you closer. “Woah,” you exhale, a laugh bubbling from your lips. “Careful! I don’t wanna catch you on fire. Some birthday that would be. Come on, time’s a’wasting birthday boy, blow it out and make a wish!”

He’d lied earlier. 

When he’d thought that there was nothing special about birthdays. There is something special about this birthday and, for the first time, he knows just what he’s going to wish for. 

It’s easy to blow out the light. It’s a little harder to protect the cupcake from his downward tug, his hands insistent, firm, but somehow you safely tuck it behind you and twist back to him, fingers lacing into his onyx curls. 

“What did you wish for?” you ask, settling yourself across his lap.

“Can’t tell you yet,” Kiyoomi answers honestly, lips already seeking yours.

“Huh? You’re not supposed to tell me at all!”

“Too bad,” he intones, silencing any further retorts with the heady persuasion of his caresses and wandering touch. “I’m gonna tell you soon. Now let me enjoy you.”

notes: hbd! shoutout to @albinoburrito for her excellent edits and suggestions :*

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[words-for-holland]

Quarantine Series: Secret Cuts & Kisses

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N gets hurt...again but this time she tries to keep it on the down low from Tom.

A/N: The Songs in Our Life Part 1 comes out tomorrow. If you want to be in a taglist for TSOL or Quarantine Series send an ask or message!

Check the Rest : Burnt Out | A New Look | Secret Cuts & Kisses | Breaking Friendships |The Birthday Week | Movie Night | Silence is Golden?|

Read TSOL -> (X)

There are three types of people in this world. People that are clumsy, people that are accident prone, and then there’s Y/N, who happens to be all of the above and more.

“Man, Im starving.” Y/N stated out loud as she made her way down the kitchen. She had just finished up an hour long meeting for work, when her stomach decided it was time for a break. Harry was also sitting down at the kitchen, reviewing the script he and Tom were working so hard on creating. He looked up to see Y/N grab an avocado, onions, tomatoes, and limes. It was then that he knew exactly what she was making, and could only ask the most appropiate question.

“Can you make me some guac too?” Harry asked with a sheepish smile.

Y/N laughed out loud as she went to grab more in order to make enough for the both of them. “Why did I have a feeling you were gonna ask that?”, she questioned herself, shaking her head.

“Hey, its not my fault! You make the best kind. Better than Sam’s and that says a lot.” Harry defended.

“Whatever you say Harry.” She smiled as she focused on cutting the onions and tomatoes. Y/N then opened up and deseeded the first avocado with no problem. Sadly, the same couldnt have been said for second one. She had cupped the avocado half firmly in her hand , positioning the knife to make sure it hit the seed when she whacked it. Unfortunately, Y/N didnt realize how slippery the fruit was, when she whacked it. The blade went thru a part of the seed but slipped on to her hand. She could feel and see the cut forming on the palm of her hand and side of her thumb.

Y/N and Harry’s eyes widened at the trauma. Dont freak out! Dont freak out! Dont freak out! Y/N repeated over and over again as she worked quickly to run her injured hand under cold water. “I’ll go get Tom!” Harry yelled, as he was about to run after his older brother for help.”Tom! To—”

Y/N used her non-injured hand to grab Harry and stop him from panicking and calling Tom. “Shhh! Its fine! Im gonna be fine! Tom does not need to know about this.” She whispered yelled to him.

“Y/N! You just butchered your hand like it was a scene from Scream! You have to tell him!” Harry tried to convince you, but he forgot what she was like in situations like this.

“C’mon Harry. Think about it for a second. You know how Tom gets when I get hurt. He gets moody and pissed, like a mama bear. Its two cuts theyll heal.” Y/N hated telling anyone if she was hurt or sick. Seeing her family and friends worry about her, hurt her more than when she gets injured herself. Her motto was that she can always fix it and pretend like it didnt happen at all. “Just please please please dont say anything to him. Look they dont even need stiches.” She showed Harry her injured hand which still continued to drip blood down slowly.

Harry hated keeping secrets, but Y/N always had a way of persuading people. “Fine.” He grumbled. “But if Tom finds out he’s going to lose it with the both of us, me especially.”

“Who’s gonna lose what now?” Tom asked coming in with the most impeccable timing. Y/N and Harry froze as she slowly tried to throw away all the bloody paper towels she used

“Nothing!” The two yelled out.

Tom was indeed confused looking at the both of them, something was up and he was going to get to the bottom of it. “Nothing? Are you two sure about that?” He saw Y/N leaning over the sink when he saw paper towels with a red hue on them. It a moment to click until he put two and two together. His eyes widen at the realization, and rushed towards the sink, seeing his assumptions were correct.

“Damn it Y/N, what the bloody hell did you do to yourself!” Tom yelled, worry written all over his face. He picked up her injured hand carefully as he inspected the wounds.

“Relax Tom, it was an accident. The cuts are not that deep.” She stated, rolling her eyes.

“Everything with you is an accident.” He muttered. “I cant believe both of you were about to hide this from me.” Tom pointed at Harry, who now shows signs of fear as he raised his hands up in defeat. “And you, I’ll deal with you later.”

“Listen man, she was the one asking me to not say anything and I told her it was a bad idea.” Harry defended himself as he quickly left the room.

“Come here, let’s see if we can bandage them up.” Tom grabbed Y/N’s non-injured hand as he led her to their shared bedroom. He quickly grabbed the first aid kit from the bathroom and started to clean up her wounds. “I hope you know Im still mad at you for keeping this away from me.” He said to her, eyes focusing on her cuts.

“Tom, Im sorry but this was what I was trying to avoid. Anytime I get hurt, you act like this. I just didnt want to see you upset or worry over nothing.” She winced as Tom rubbed her wounds with an alcohol pad.

“Sorry.” He muttered. “Of course Im gonna worry. It’s my job to worry about you. I want to be the person to take care of you when youre sick or injured, but I cant do that if you wont tell me. God, if anything happens to you...I —” Tom shook his head to get rid of the terrible thought.

“Hey” Y/N whispered. Tom looked up into her eyes, as she held his face with her uninjured hand. “Im okay. Im always going to be okay. No matter how many times I fall, bruise, bleed, whatever. You’re not the only tough guy around here.” She leaned in kiss his cheek, as Tom went back to fixing up her cuts.

“Does it hurt?” He asked rubbing small cricled on the back of her hand, after bandaging her hand.

Y/N shook her head. “Not really, just a little bit.” Tom picked up her hand, leaving a long soft and gently kiss on each band-aid covered cut.

“How about now?” He looked up, smiling.

“Better. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Of course thats what superhero boyfriends are for right?” Tom chuckled as he stood up to kiss the top of Y/N’s head. He was about to put the first aid kit away until she stopped him, pulling the back of his shirt.

“Actually...I think my face is hurting a bit. Can you help me, Spiderman?” She smirked.

“Oh? Is it now? What happend to being a tough girl that can take care of herself?” He challenges, kneeling back down to her.

“Well this happens to be something only a hero can fix.”

“Where on the face does it hurt, pretty girl?” Tom question as the two continued to lean towards each other.

“The forehead.” She stated. “Think it might need another kiss.”

Tom smiled as he placed a soft kiss to where she pointed. “Better?” He asked.

“Kinda. The nose is hurting a bit now.” She pointed to the tip of her nose, where Tom place another soft kiss. He didnt waste any other minute, and kissed her the place where he wanted to kiss her the most. Tom pressed his lips against Y/N’s as her hand instinctly wrapped around his neck. She returned the kiss with the same amount of passion, and they stayed in this moment for what seemed like forever, only breaking the kiss when they needed to breathe.

“I dont know Tom, with the way things are going...I might have to get hurt more often.” Y/N joked, as she tried to catch her breath.

“How about...you try to stay out of trouble and Ill give you an even better time than this?” Tom compromised, laughing as his hands slipped under her shirt and gently caressed her sides. He looked her up and down, showing off that smoulder that always made Y/N weak in the knees.

“Better put me in a human bubble then.”