#like hey your pants aren't fitting the same

[hikeyzz]

i wasn't expecting this aspect of recovery and surgery anddddd ngl it's kindaaa triggering in a way i didn't expect either fck

[luveline]

how about spencer x badass reader and they are wearing couple or similar clothes intentionally or unintentionally?? I think that would be cutee

tysm for requesting ♡ fem!reader

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks, sounding like a kid in a candy store, a crisp twenty in his back pocket. 

Emily follows his line of sight and feels her cheeks apple unbidden, a delighted smile on her painted lips. "Oh, my god." 

"Yeah, Garcia?" Derek asks, phone to his ear, Penelope first on his speed dial. "You need to come and see this. Like, right now. Don't worry, baby, just come and see it for yourself." 

"I don't even know what to say." Emily stares at you. 

You usually dress in line with the other women in this profession: pants that aren't too tight so you can run in if needed, a simple blouse, and a blazer if you're feeling formal. 

Today, you've opted for something softer. It was a slow change, one day you were wearing a cashmere sweater, thin and fitted to your form. Another day, you chose to layer your shirt with a cardigan of a similar colour. 

Right now? You're all Spencer. Your slacks remain unchanged but your blouse has been swapped for a shirt with a stiff starched collar and layered under what can only be described as a grandpa sweater. It's not quite ugly, but it's almost identical to Spencer's. 

What's more, you've swapped your boots for converse. 

Spencer holds the door for you. He's chosen to wear a tie at least, clinging to that last strand of professional business attire. He has two coffees, one in each hand, while you carry a box. He's all elbows as he talks to you, and you, ever his fan, follow every word with a fond smile. 

"Hey, are you guys sharing a wardrobe now?" Derek asks, absolutely unwilling to hold back.

Emily piles on, "It's cute! You're totally an old married couple, you look like my grandparents." 

"What happened to your boots, lovergirl?" Derek asks, nodding at your cons, arms crossed over the back of his chair casually. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving the sneakers." 

"You guys totally match," Emily coos. "You could be on a Christmas card." 

You smile —you smile, Emily might just call the news— and walk past them to your desk. Hotch has moved you away from Spencer knowing you'll encourage his endless chattering, which places you on a different island of desks next to Anderson and Agent Camille. 

Spencer put his coffee down on his desk, taking off his messenger bag. "Nice going, guys. She brought you donuts. You know, to apologise for calling you both antagonistic losers yesterday," he says, smiling at the mutual horror that crops up on their faces. "The fancy kind, too. She knew your favourite flavours without asking." 

From her desk, Emily can see you've opened the box and offered them to your desk mates, your expression unperturbed. "Just don't touch the chocolate sprinkle ones, they're for Spencer," you say.

No matter what they say, how sorry they sound, you give out the donuts to anyone who'll take one until they're all gone. When Garcia arrives, she finds you sitting in your desk chair with your head leaning against Spencer's stomach, taking alternate bites of the same sprinkle-covered donut like it isn't the most domestic, coupley thing you could be doing. 

Unlike Emily and Derek, Penelope genuinely thinks you look cute. "You guys are like Brangelina," she breathes, eyes wide, her smile infectious. 

Spencer fails to hide a grin, his hand on your shoulder. You're better at controlling your emotion, sliding a small parcelled package across the desk toward her.

"Thank you, Pen," you say. "I like the shoes. They're comfy. And the sweater was a gift." Spencer nods enthusiastically. 

That explains why you'd taken such an offence. Anything to do with Spencer raises your hackles. If you felt someone was making fun of his present to you, you'd defend him with your last dying breath, or, in this instance, punish your coworkers in his honour. 

"I'm sorry," Derek apologises again, "I was kidding! What do you want me to do, you want me to wear a sweater vest too? I can do that." 

You reach back to touch Spencer's side, levelling Derek with an impartial look. Not mad, not sad. Totally indifferent. "That could be a good start." 

Spencer hums. "I think so. You wanna borrow one of mine?"

The barest hint of a smile plays on your lips. "That's generous, Spence. You're a philanthropist."

"I am." He strokes the slope of your sweater-clad shoulder proudly. "You know me, I love sharing my wardrobe." 

[bigification]

Step Daddy

"You really need to get over your stepdad man." My friend tells me, concerned.

"Look, I'll try this one last thing and if it doesn't work then I'll give it up." I respond. "Did you bring the sunglasses?"

"Yes, but just remember he's like 25 years older than you. He's probably not going to be into you, even after this." He says as he hands me a pair of old pilot shades.

I told him I could let it go, but I can't. I'm just putting all my eggs into this basket, the sunglasses. Apparently they're supposed to transform someone who wears them mentally and physically to match my type. He already is my type, but I guess I wouldn't mind him bulking up a bit and growing some hair. It would be sexy if he got more charming, but he's already charming as it is. I guess there's only one way to find out.

I wait on the living room couch watching tv. He always gets home from work at the same time, so I know he'll be here any minute. I sit and stare at my reflection in the glasses. Am I really ready to change this man's life so drastically. My friend said no one else would take notice of the change, so it'll be like nothing happened. As I'm thinking over it, I hear the roar of his engine from the driveway. I try to calm down, but I can feel my body vibrate from the nerves. The door flies open.

"Hey buddy, hows it goin?" He asks me with his hot southern accent.

"Not bad. By the way, I found these sunglasses lying around, and assumed they were yours." I try to play it cool as I lie to his face.

"Oh, thanks. But these aren't mine." He responds.

"Well you might as well keep em, they don't fit me anyway." I try to convince him to take them without seeming too pushy.

"Well alright, thanks kid." He swipes the glasses and throws them on.

That was easier than I thought. As soon as he put them on, he stopped moving. His jaw slacked as if there was not a thought running through his mind. It started slow, his button up started to look a little bit tighter. His once flat chest started to push against his shirt and the shape of a belly started to show. Then it started to speed up. His chest started to pulse, growing in size with each one. They grew until the button on his collar popped off, then another button popped, then another and another. His juicy pecs flopped down after being released from his shirt. His stomach was next. His midsection widened and his stomach grew into a respectable beer belly, straining against his shirt. It wasn't long before more buttons began to pop, until his shirt was completely open. His arms also looked like they doubled in size, filling out his sleeves with thick muscles.

Next his legs start to look like they're gonna burst out of his dress pants. I can hear the rips ripple through his pants as his thighs grow inside of them. His ass fills out all the space in his pants and proceeds to rip open his fly and snap his belt in half. I can tell his underwear is barely staying in one piece as a large bulge formed in between his legs.

Finally his face begins to change. His once skinny face fills out with fat, giving him a rounder look. I can see that hair is falling out of his hat until he is left completely bald under there. Though in return his clean shaven face grows a bushy beard. But the hair doesn't stop there. It continues down his chest and to his belly, and presumably the rest of his body. He finally regains control of his body. He sighs as he stretched out his arms and cracks his knuckles before looking right at me.

"Come here, son." He says in a deep buttery voice.

A shock travels through my spine as I think he might know what I've done to him.

"What'd I say boy!" He raises his voice.

I jump a bit before I walk closer to him. I realize how imposing he is up close. He must have gotten taller because he seems well over six feet tall now, and at least 250 pounds.

"Daddy had a stressful day, why don't you help him release some tension." He says as he pushes me to my knees.

I blush, this is everything I wanted from this, it just happened so much faster than I thought.

"Don't be shy, boy. This will be our little secret." He says as he pulls his underwear down.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Race

Grace Clinton x Hamilton!Reader

Summary: Racing at its finest

"And Verstappen comes around the second to last corner! It's tight! It is tight! But he's got it!"

Grace stares at the screen, eyes wide.

"The Hamilton siblings come out neck and neck on the same turn."

You battle it out with your brother, slamming your foot down as his attention wavers.

You'd been waiting for this for a while. It had always been harder for you than Lewis, you always had to push harder, further, faster just because you were a girl.

But you were good.

You knew you were good.

He knew you were good.

"And Hamilton's Mercedes makes way for Hamilton's Ferrari!"

Ferrari knew you were good.

You floored it, leaving your brother in the dust.

Grace clenches her fists.

"Hamilton is gaining on Verstappen on the last corner. Verstappen attempts defensive manoeuvres but...Verstappen still in the lead! Hamilton is trying to get past...On the straight now. And...And...Hamilton is leading! Hamilton is leading in the last seconds of the British Grand Prix! Verstappen tries to reclaim but-but- She's done it! Y/n Hamilton, the first woman to win a Grand Prix in F1 history!"

The room erupts as you cross over the line and Grace can hear you over the radio.

"Thank fuck!"

"Congratulations, y/n. First win for you."

You pant over the radio as you begin to slow down your car. "Where did Lewis rank?"

"Third. You beat Verstappen by two tenths of a second."

"Is Grace there? Can I talk to Grace?"

She grabs the radio. "I'm here, babe. I'm here. I'm so proud of you."

You cheer in the car. "D'you like it? I told you you'd like it!"

Grace laughs. "I could do without the near misses. Is your brother going to be annoyed you passed him?"

"Hey, there's a reason he's moving to my team's greener pastures. You coming out to see me, superstar?"

Your car rolls to a stop and Grace comes bursting out to see you. You're standing up on the frame of your car, looking at the fans as you take off your helmet, fist pumped into the air.

You jump down when you notice her, crushing her into a hug.

"You're sweaty!" She laughs.

"Like you have anything to say. Sweaty footballer, you are!"

Grace just keeps laughing, letting you pick her up and spin her around.

Lewis pulls up next as Grace fists the front of your outfit and tugs you into a heady kiss.

"Well done," He says to you," But do you have to do that in public?"

You grin. "Yeah. Not to brag but I just won. I think I'm allowed to kiss my girlfriend."

He groans good naturedly, bumping your shoulder with his. "You're going to use that as an excuse all the time, aren't you?"

"You know me so well."

You keep your hand laced with Grace's as you head up to the podium through the backways of the building.

"World Champion next year then?" She teases, completely relaxed under your arm.

You flash her a grin. "Is that what you want? 'Cause I can do that for you. I want a WSL title in return though."

"I can arrange that."

There's no one else around you. It's just you and her and you steal another kiss while no one is there to complain.

She gasps into your mouth but reciprocates quickly, one hand on your hip while the other cups the back of your neck.

"What would you say if I tell you that you looked so fit driving that car?" She whispers against your lips.

"I'd say that I was wearing a massive helmet that covered my face so there's no way I looked fit at all."

"Then I'd say it must have been your voice," Grace replies," All rugged and angry when Norris cut you up in the ninth lap."

"That sounds more reasonable," You say," You look fit when you kick around a ball for ninety minutes."

"Good." Grace draws back, lacing your fingers with hers as she pulls you to start walking again. "Now, go get that trophy so I can capitalise on just how fit you actually are."

[lxndonorris]

wearing his clothes - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smutish Charles catches you wearing his clothes, and he needs to put in some work to get it back x word count: 1900 taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

In the soft glow of the bedroom, you open the closet, looking at a display of your boyfriend's clothes. Charles owns so many pretty clothes, but one item in particular caught your attention once he brought it back from his latest photoshoot.

A beautiful black leather jacket, slim fit, tight—just the way he and you like it. Charles sent you the pictures right after the shoot, but seeing him actually wear those clothes blew your mind.

Right now, he is busy getting ready for a boy's night out with his closest friends. You saw him through the open door, running his fingers through his hair and styling it—a beautiful sight. You assume, as much as he loves that jacket, that he wants to wear it tonight.

At the same time, you know how much he loves seeing you wearing his clothes, and you want to use that to your advantage by teasing him a little and putting him in the right mood for today.

Looking through his closet, you find a few gorgeous jackets and designer clothes, and all of them tickle your fancy. However, that leather jacket is what you need.

"There you are." You carefully take it out of the closet and look at it. What a beautiful piece of clothing!

Just then, you hear his voice echo through the hallway. "Y/N? Have you seen my rings?" Charles exclaimed.

With a coy smile, you drape his leather jacket over your shoulders and slip inside, one arm at a time, savoring your boyfriend's familiar scent that envelopes you. The supple material embraces you, carrying his scent like a secret promise.

You catch a glimpse of yourself inside the mirror, his jacket hanging just right, accentuating the contours of your figure. The soft hum of anticipation fills the room as you hear footsteps approaching. Turning around to watch the doorhandle move, the jacket sets comfortably against your skin.

The door eases open, revealing him, his hair nicely done, his sweater, pants, and shoes flattering his well-formed physique perfectly.

"Y/N. I found the rings." Charles soft voice fills the room when his gaze falls upon you. Instantly, his eyes widen with surprise, and a grin forms on his lips. "Oh, hello." He says, casually leaning with one arm against the doorframe, as your focus shifts to the bulging biceps barely hidden underneath the fabric of his sweater.

"Hey." You lift your chin slightly and raise both of your eyebrows. His jacket makes you feel so comfortable, tough even. Running a hand through your hair, you strike a little pose, holding on to the jacket, when you catch him biting his lower lip.

"Well, aren't you a sight?" Charles remarks, his eyes lingering on the way the jacket clings to you.

You can't resist a mischievous smile, wearing that jacket like a trophy. "Thanks, babé." You tilt your head teasingly, enjoying how much his gaze devours all of you.

Charles licks his lips as his eyes linger on your chest, and subconsciously, he places a hand at his pecs and strokes himself before letting it run down his entire chest.

"That looks better on you than it does on me." He teased his voice, carrying a mischievous tone.

You feel a flush of warmth as his admiration becomes palpable. He closes the distance, his fingers tracing the edge of the jacket, and the touch a gentle caress.

"You really make it look so much better than I ever could." He admits that his voice low and appreciative.

The tension rises between the two of you as he moves even closer. The faint scent of his cologne grows stronger once he leans in to you, his soft lips barely brushing over your cheeks before he lets out a deep breath.

"Fuck. You're so hot." Charles' hands wander down to your waist, securely holding you in place. A spark of electricity rushes through your veins as you open your mouth, letting out a breathless sigh.

"Charles." You mouth, placing a hand at his firm chest, tracing the tangible outlines of his pecs through his tight clothes.

He breathes down your neck, surely holding back a low moan himself. "Y/N." Charles whispers, and you lean your head back in response.

"How about a trade?" You propose, gently stroking his chest. His muscles are tensing slightly, getting harder by the second.

He slowly separates himself, just enough for you to still feel his warmth against your cheek. "What do you have in mind?" Charles chuckles under his breath, both of his hands still at your waist, stroking you with his thumbs.

You lean in, steadying yourself against his frame with both of your hands. "A kiss for your favorite jacket?" Teasingly, you meet his burning gaze.

At the sound of your words, a mischievous smirk forms in the corner of his lips."

Y/N." He frowns. "I cannot decline that offer."

His eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and desire, and without hesitation, he closes the distance between you. The warmth of his lips meets yours in a sweet exchange, sealing the deal.

Once or twice, you kiss each other, embracing each other again and again. The tension engulfs both of you as you move even closer. His hands run along your waist, resting and caressing your butt, while yours run down his chest, feeling his toned body tense underneath his sweater.

But you won't stop there yet. In the heat of the moment, you cannot help but run a hand to his crotch, feeling his desire building up, forming a tangible bulge inside his pants.

He flinches once you touch and feel him, encouraging him to rock his hips against the palm of your hand.

"Mhmmm." Charles purrs right into your mouth as you close your eyes, fully embracing this moment.

"You like that, huh?" You tease once again and lean your head back, enjoying the smug grin spreading across his entire face. He narrows his eyes and lifts his chin as well, while you keep on teasing him with your fingers.

There is no need for more words. Both of you know that he's into that, enjoying you making the first move. Charles just shakes his head in amusement, a bright smile on his lips.

"You're one to talk." He says it with a playful tone.

Before you can react, however, he easily picks you up.

"Charles." You giggle, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Both of you giggle now as he carries you toward the bed. You hold on tight, hugging him with your arms and legs.

Gently, he puts you down on the soft mattress before he climbs on top of you, his body towering over yours.

"You're enjoying that, huh?" Charles smirks, his accent coming through a little.

Your eyes wander to his necklace, now hanging in the air just inches above your chest. The two of you are breathing quickly, barely able to catch your breath.

Nodding, you embrace him once he bends down, kissing you again and again while grinding his hips against your thighs.

Your whole body tingles in excitement, but you tilt your head to breathe deeply.

"Fuck. Charles." You let out a low groan when he starts placing kisses all over your neck.

Then, however, he stops.

"I need to go now." Charles places a hand at your neck, tracing your jawline with his fingers, before caressing your cheeks lovingly.

"I know." You lean into his soft touch, feeling his cold rings on your skin.

He helps you off the bed, reaching for your hand.

Lovingly, Charles starts to undress you, one arm at a time, you let go of his leather jacket. You enjoy feeling his hands run all over your upper body. Naturally, he uses this to his advantage, touching you and your boobs gently as well.

Giggling, you turn around, and your eyes meet again. This time, it is more playful, yet you're longing for his gentle touch, his warm embrace, and his lips on yours. Your heart is still racing, and you know he is feeling the same. Charles keeps on touching himself, stroking his chest, his tummy, and his bulge multiple times.

With a grin, he slips into the jacket that had just adorned me moments before. The material molds to his frame, accentuating his broad shoulders and making him look effortlessly good. You watch with a mix of curiosity and delight as he adjusts the collar, clearly enjoying the familiar comfort.

Charles then turns to you, a playful glint in his eyes. "How do I look?" He asks, striking the same pose as in the photoshoot.

Of course, he knows how well he looks. His strong yet slim frame looks so good as he strokes his chest through the fabric of his jacket. All of his clothes flatter him perfectly, but his pants are now unable to hide his desire.

A chuckle escapes you. "Surprisingly good, considering it's my turn to admire now." You reply, appreciating the sight of him wearing the jacket with a newfound allure.

He walks toward you, a swagger in his step, and wraps his arms around you, the jacket providing another layer of warmth. The scent lingers in your nose, making you lick your lips once.

"Maybe you should borrow it more often." He suggests, his lips curving into a charming smile.

You kiss him softly before he pulls away once more, walking over to the mirror, admiring his own reflection.

He runs a hand through his groomed beard, seemingly enjoying himself. When you catch him touching himself, his bulge firmly.

"We should finish that later." You raise your eyebrows again.

Curiously, he turns around, one hand still on his length and the other stroking his own chest.

"Oh, that sounds so good." His accent is still present as his rough voice fills the air all around you.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you take in the way he carries himself, the jacket adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance. The dim light in the room cast a subtle glow on his features, emphasizing the allure of the moment.

Lost in admiration, you meet his eyes and whisper, "You look incredible in that jacket," letting the unspoken tension linger in the air.

The exchange of glances speaks volumes—a silent acknowledgement of the attraction that went beyond the fabric of the jacket, creating a connection that feels both intimate and exhilarating.

Charles closes the distance again, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into a kiss followed by a warm, tight hug.

As he prepares to leave for the night, the air between you holds a subtle tension—a mix of longing and anticipation. He adjusts the jacket one last time, a confident smile on his lips.

You stand there, watching him with a longing gaze, wishing he would just stay now so you could extend this moment of intimacy.

Your eyes meet, and in that moment of lingering intensity, words seem unnecessary. The exchanged glances convey a myriad of emotions—affection, desire, and a touch of playfulness.

"I love you." Charles says softly, kissing you again.

"I love you too." You trace his jawline with two fingers, enjoying how his stubble tickles your skin. "Enjoy yourself, will you?" Patting his chest gently, you paint a coy smile on his lips.

With one last longing look, he leaves for the night.

[skyclan-funny-name-squad]

Okay wow I was not expecting my kittypet fae post to take off overnight like this, but I'm glad you all like it! I've been thinking about kittypet culture so this is what I think is the reasoning behind the beliefs.

Kittypets are often well groomed and well fed no matter the season, while wild cats are often groomed there's a softness to kittypet pelts that you don't find in wild pelts. Along with pretty accessories that a wild cat would have no clue what they are like bows. As such they start to seem a bit uncanny valley because they look like you but not Quite. Especially because of more purebred cats who have brighter pelts or unusual colors or strange muzzles or weird ears. Which helps spread the thought that kittypets aren't fully cats, but something similar, something different but the same. Firestar as a purebred orange cat is just a lot naturally brighter or vivid then the more muted oranges that appear in the wild, and that scares cats.

Kittypets also like to share with their wild friends, they see their friend skinny and cold and want to bring them inside where they can get food and get warm. So they tend to offer it pretty often, however cats that do this start to get used to the ease of food and warmth of the den and find it harder to stay wild or to stay away from twolegs. Some kittypets may even aid twolegs in trapping their friends for the sake of protecting their friends from the harsh outdoors. Which everyone knows once you've bonded with a twoleg whether you want to or not your transformation into one of them is nearly complete.

Kittypet food is also meant to fill a cat as its been fine-tuned to fit the needs of a cat so even if a cat doesn't think it tastes as good as mouse, it still fills them in ways they may struggle to get with hunting. So cats that risk taking a bit start to go back for more, especially in harder hunting series. Sure sparrow may be a bit tastier but if its a sparrow once a week during leafbare or kittypet food every day, cats are going to be tempted.

With kittypets not being in a war culture and often just chilling beyond mild spats means there's more room for other activities like a lot more gossip and stories, news travels fast between cats because kittypets are horrendous gossips which means if you fuck over a kittypet, every other kittypet is going to hear about it and shame you for it. To clan cats it's shocking because kittypet news travels throughout an entire twolegplace and even beyond it thanks to some kittypets that travel in like trucks and stuff, so it can seem like despite being nowhere near the original kittypet, everyone still magically knows how you messed up. This extends to their friends as well, if you beat up a cat that the kittypets consider a friend over a border dispute all the kittypets are going to be like "hey why'd you do that that was mean" and potentially chase you away.

Now for names is something I think is interesting because kittypets are never really like "my names Mouse but the twolegs call me Mittens" so clearly twoleg names have some priority here for kittypets, while the significance of this can very between whatever you want really, its clearly important. So if you get taken in by a twoleg to heal a wound and the twoleg starts calling you Pants, then suddenly all the kittypets call you by that name. No matter how much you insist your name is Twigpounce, you're Pants now. Plus if you're actively stuck with kittypets, you'll start going by Pants as well. Thus the kittypet's steal your name.

Cats that come back from twolegs always come back changed, from how they talk, to how they walk, to what food they eat, to the things they say. They can still shake off the influence and return to the wild, but they'll always be a bit off, a bit different. Everyone knows Tallstar was pet-touched a long time ago from how he acts, but everyone politely doesn't bring it up.

Avoid kittypets! They're tricksters that look like us but they're liars with their fake mice and fake warmth! Do not trust! They aren't true cats! They're something different! Something more dangerous! Do not be tricked!

Also Longtail still throws down with Rusty because he's an idiot and also probably hoping that this will make the scary fae child leave his clan alone.

[ddejavvu]

That last Indy blurb you reblogged, and oh boy.. oh boy… all I could think of is Indy making you ride the end of his whip. making you rub your wet little pussy all over the handle of it for him. 

salivating... foaming at the mouth... creaming my pants

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Indiana is nothing if not a massive tease. He knows you're desperate for him, knows he couldn't lose you out in the jungle if he tried, so when you rest your chin over his shoulder, he doesn't give in.

"Not now, sweetheart," He drawls, thumbing through the pages of his notebook like it's more important than your aching pussy, "I'm busy."

"Indy," You whimper, sounding all too bratty as you scoff at his work, "Come on, all we've seen today is dirt. Aren't I a little more important?"

His brows raise, and he fixes you with a look that's part amusement, part incredulity.

"More important? These are historic archaeological discoveries, princess, you don't think that takes precedence over a quick fuck?"

"If it's gonna be quick you won't mind putting the journal away for a bit," You decide, throwing a leg over his thigh. You're purposefully naked beneath your nightgown, the safety of your tent the perfect place to prepare for your night. Despite the lustful call of your hot cunt against his leg, he pushes further, trying to see just how far he can go before you'll beg for it.

"Hey- hey," He gripes, one hand on your hip to hold you from getting any further, "I said I was busy, you little minx. You can wait."

"I don't want to wait," You huff, "Just- fuck me, Indy!"

You've done it. You've said the magic words, you've laid all of your cards on the table, you've guessed the password correctly.

"Well," He pretends to consider, "I could use my fingers. But I really need to work on this."

You know damn well he'll abandon his scholarly facade the second your legs spread. You're playing each other like tense snakes, not sure who'll sink their fangs into the other first.

"I need more than your fingers," You brace your hands on his upper thigh, squeezing more than you need to, "I want your cock, Indy."

"No can do, sweetheart," He grins lazily, all too proud of himself for his restraint. Truthfully, he's already hardening in his pants, the fabric stretching tight over a bulge you're both pretending like you can't see. It's better that way, if you pretend he's not chubbing up and you're not already hot against his thigh. It's better to pretend you don't care, to build the frustration inside until you snap and it floods you both.

"I'm busy. If you want something thicker than my fingers, you'll have to use my whip."

It's a throwaway suggestion, an absurd way of telling you you're in for a long night of teasing. That you're going to have to work for what you want. But you're more than intrigued by it, eyeing the thick leather handle that's mounted on his belt.

"Okay." You catch him off guard with your sense of adventure, and something flickers in his eyes. He muscles it down from his face, though, keeping his smirk tight over his cheeks.

"Okay? That's it? You're gonna fuck it?"

"I'm not waiting around all day," You scoff, taking the leather handle from his belt and sticking it in his non-dominant hand as you settle between his thighs. You've got your back against his chest, and you drag his hand between your legs.

"I'll hold the journal," You brace your hand against its pages, keeping is steady, "You can still write, Indy."

He's a little slow to process the situation, so you groan, "Well come on, fuck me! I thought you were busy, now you're just wasting- time!"

Without warning, Indiana drives the thick, leather girth of his whip into your cunt. It's abrupt, and if you hadn't been steadily producing slick at the condescending tone of his voice the entire time, it would hurt. But it's nothing more than an initial sting, and he laughs in that same cocky tone.

"You brat," He spits, like it's a curse word, "You pitch a big fit about getting fucked like I'm not taking care of you. You're greedy, y'know that? Can't handle a day without a dick in you, y'gotta fuck yourself all over whatever you can get. Is this what you wanted?" He drags the whip in and out of your cunt, marveling at the slick smeared over it, "You wanted to fuck my whip? You're a nasty little thing."

"Oh, shut up," You huff, face turned against his tanned neck. You nip at a spot beneath the hinge of his jaw and you feel his chest swell as he draws a heaving breath in, "You can talk as much shit as you want, Indy, I- ah!" You writhe back against him as he steadily fucks the handle of his whip into your soaked cunt, "I feel you getting hard. I know you like it."

"You're pathetic," He manages to spit through clenched teeth as you suck bruises into his neck. He's right, you're desperate for whatever you can get inside of you and he loves it, he loves watching your cunt suck his whip in like it's his cock.

"And you're not working anymore," You point out that his pen has been long-since discarded, his fist now clenched atop the pages of his journal, "So why don't you cut the bullshit and just fuck me, Indiana."

"Well," He pants, a wry grin taking his features by storm as he wrestles to both lay you down and maneuver himself on top of you. Once he's hovering above you, hairline already gathering glistening sweat as he tries controlling his lust-fueled movements, he smirks down at you, cherishing the feeling of your hands prying at his belt to release his achingly-hard cock, "Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart."

[ihavethedreamies]

Desert Storms | Woozi

Lee Jihoon (Woozi - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4k

Pairing: Woozi x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers to Fucking

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Doll, Baby Girl, etc.), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), 69-ing, Bondage? Tied up but not like that, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!)

Author's Note: I plan on doing a story for each member of Seventeen that is this Sci-Fi, desert world, Alternate Universe, but not according to any kind of schedule.

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-> S.Coup's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Shit. Shit. Shit-" You cursed. You cursed yourself, you cursed the desert, the planet, everything. Why? Sandstorm. Your rover was having trouble keeping ahead of it and you were pushing her to her limits. One of the real issues with sandstorms on the planet of Sierra-Victor-Tango versus Earth was…acid. The giant burrowing space worms that lived under the dunes spit literal acid. Because of this, the sand at deeper levels was infused with that acid. So, you really, really didn't want to be out in that. The problem was, if enough of the acid sand hit the rover, it could damage it badly, and take out the glass. Then you would have been screwed. The storm was getting worse as it traveled and to stay on the road, you couldn't drive straight away from it. All of a sudden, a message came over the transceiver.

"Hey, uh, I can see you from my base. In like a kilometer take a right and then you'll be able to see it and then you can just drive straight in." A man's voice came in, the receiver made the audio crackly from the high wind. You knew about the base, but it was private, so you didn't really know anything about it. If the guy was offering, you would take him up on it. You hit the button on your radio and shouted over the noise, "Okay, great, thanks!" You weren't sure if he saw you on some kind of radar or what. Right where he told you, you took the turn and cringed at the rattling noise your rover let off. Unfortunately, the direction he had you turn was leading you more into the path of the storm. Luckily though, you didn't have far to go. Slowing down a bit, you saw the hatch to the base open just enough for your rover to fit through. As soon as your rover started to go down the ramp into the base, the door closed, and you could hear your own thoughts again. Slowing down, you sighed in relief and stopped the rover. There was another one parked down there that was much nicer and much bigger. You pulled up and shut it off, honestly not knowing if it would start when you went to leave. The motor rattled as it shut off and you had to kick the door open after you pulled the handle. Slamming the door shut, you coughed as a bunch of sand dust blasted back at you.

"How'd you get caught out in a sandstorm?" You recognized the voice of the guy who contacted you, actually able to hear it clearly. You stepped around the rover to look at him standing in the doorway that actually led into the base. He was…gorgeous actually. Not very tall yourself, you had no room to talk, but he was pretty short. However, he compensated for this by working out it seemed because he was thick. His black shirt was sleeveless and tight, his pants were equally as tight. He had longer wavy black hair pulled halfway back into a small ponytail. You waved to acknowledge his presence and retrieved your pack from the hatch of your vehicle and slung it onto your back. Approaching him, you got an even better look at his face. There was a small scar over his brow ridge that left a clean cut into his eyebrow, another small scar on the opposite cheek near his jaw. A set of snakebite piercings rested under his lower lip and his eyes were red. Not like bloodshot, his irises were red. You didn't know if it was natural or not. His ears had some ear piercings, a long pendant hanging down from the left ear with an upside-down triangle-like design. Each finger had an identical silver ring on them that probably served some purpose.

"Thank you for letting me shelter here." You told him, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

"Here." He reached for it, and you hesitated for a second but handed the large pack over, keeping your satchel with you. Motioning with his head, he went deeper into the base, and you went up the short three metal stairs and inside, the door sliding closed behind you. You followed him down the short hallway, the metal was old and worn but more or less clean. There was an intersection not too far down the hall, but he kept going forward. You reached another sliding door and when he led you in, it was a stark contrast. Everything looked brand new, fancy, top of the line. It was a giant open living space with a large sectional couch and fancy holo-screen. There was a giant round table to the left and there was a decorative wall that had the kitchen on the other side. It looked like there was another big open space behind the kitchen with a bunch of consoles and other equipment set up. On the other side of the living room there was a large bedroom with the doors open and the hall went in both directions past it.

"Wow…" You gaped, looking around. The same logo that was on his earring was found in multiple places around, a big hologram floating above the center of the table, printed on the glass of the decorative wall, even scored into the glass of the coffee table.

"The storm is supposed to dissipate soon, but then another big one is coming in. You can stay here through it, no one else is here. Normally my co-commander is here too but he's not right now." The man told you and his voice brought you attention back to him. This place looked like more money was put into it than your entire hometown.

"What is this place?"

"Ever heard of the Rangers?"

"Yes?"

"This is our main base." He motioned with his head again and you followed after him as he led you down the hallway to nearly the end. The door at the end opened and he had brought you to a beautiful bedroom with a sitting area, king-sized bed, and a giant bathroom behind the bed.

"I can stay here?" You gawked and he let your bag thump on the ground as he smirked.

"Yeah, no one is using it. Woozi." He held his hand out and you nervously shook it. Even though he himself was pretty short, you were still a good three or four inches shorter than him.

"Oh, uh, (Y/N)."

"Where are you from?" Woozi moved back out of the room, and you trotted after him as he led you back toward the kitchen.

"Morgran town." You informed. He told you to take a seat at the counter and you jumped up on the stool and he opened the ice box.

"I'm not a wonderful cook so I don't have any fancy ingredients, but I can mix all this together with some rice." He had taken a bunch of small containers of leftovers and set them on the counter.

"Okay!" You were starving and hadn't had a normal meal in quite a while. He set up the rice cooker and you wondered if this was how homes on Terra looked.

"Were you born here?" Woozi asked.

"Yes. You?"

"Nah. I was born on Pledis and moved here when I was about eighteen."

"Why?"

"The co-commander, Seungcheol, convinced me to come here with him and start our own faction of Rangers. Not only are there a lot of runaway criminals here, but a lot of people who need help in the middle of the desert." He cast you a sly look as he hit the button on the rice cooker. You laughed nervously at this, and he leaned against the counter in front of you. Lord, he was hot. The way he was positioned, the muscles in his arm flexed and his shirt spread tight over his chest. He huffed when he noticed you were ogling him, and his hand came to your chin. He moved your head up, so you looked him in the eye again and your face exploded into a blush.

"U-uh, I…I'm-"

"Don't worry, doll." He tilted his head to the side, looking over your face, his thumb coming up to stroke your bottom lip. Woozi backed up with a smirk and you avoided his gaze, turning in your stool to get down and go near the couch.

"Your holo-screen is huge." You marveled and he moved out of the kitchen to join you, pointing for you to sit.

"Tap the table." He told you and you saw a little flashing light and pressed it, a holographic module popping up that worked as the remote.

"Watch whatever, I have to go finish something." He told you. You watched from the corner of your eye as he went to the room behind the kitchen, your eyes moving down to look at his ass in those tight black pants. When he got completely out of view you looked back at the module and found a listing of movies and shows that you had only ever dreamed of seeing. They even had ones that were over a hundred years old! Selecting one, a movie series based off an even older set of books about elves and wizards, you sat back to watch it. There was another button on the module that flashed, catching your attention. You tapped it, and a second smaller screen popped up in the corner showing the radar of the storms incoming.

"Shit." You groaned. Woozi had been right. The one you just escaped was still lingering over the area and there was another bigger one coming right behind it. At the bottom of the corner there might have been a third one developing as well. Oh well, it could be worse than being stuck in a fancy underground base with an extremely attractive man.

It was only about thirty minutes after you started the movie he came back out, the only reason you noticed was because the rice cooker had gone off. Pausing the movie, you got up and went to sit at the counter, watching as he mixed everything together and your mouth watered. He left it all in the same big bowl, grabbed two spoons, then nodded for you to follow him back into the living area. You hesitantly sat down, and he sat way closer to you than you even hoped for and handed you a spoon. Glancing at him, you sat back still mostly rigid, and hit play on the movie. After you got to eating it and realized how starving you were, you soon forgot that he was so close to you. He watched in amusement as you scarfed it down and you both had soon finished it off.

"Thanks for letting me stay here. I looked at the radar and it looks like the storms are just going to keep coming." You groaned, resting your head on the back of the couch. Your eyes were closed so he took the chance to look you over like you had been him. The thin fabric of your shirt had ridden up some and revealed the smooth skin on your tummy and waist, tanned with a smattering of freckles from sun exposure. Your long hair was tied back in a braid, and you wore tight leggings with mesh side panels to allow for more breathability. It wasn't too often he ran into anyone, even women, who were that much smaller than him, let alone that cute. His eyes shot back to your face, your eyes still closed and he wondered if you had fallen asleep already. Woozi wanted to just grab you and haul you onto his lap. Living out in the middle of the desert with only the rest of the guys in his Ranger group didn't give many opportunities for him to be with a woman. Now, one had just happened to show up. He didn't want to push it, but with you how you had been looking at him…

"Ugh, I think I wore myself out trying to get out of that storm. The adrenaline has finally gone away it seems." You tipped your head back and forth, your neck popping to relieve some pressure. He glanced at his watch, and it was pretty late. This time of year, the sun didn't get very low, so it was bright nearly all of the time.

"Go sleep then. If I'm not out here when you get up, you can just grab whatever from the kitchen. I'll let you know if the storm lets up sooner." He stood up with the bowl to clean it up and he watched you trudge sleepily down the hall and into the room he let you use. When you got in there, you marveled at the luxury and peeled your clothes off so you could take an actual legitimate shower. The water felt like heaven, and you were glad your spare underwear and clothes were clean. Just putting on your leggings over your panties and redoing a wrap-around breast band, you climbed in the amazing bed and immediately fell asleep.

A loud and echoing crash startled you awake, the sound of metal crunching was the opposite of reassuring. When it happened again you jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room and down the hall. You assumed the only room with the door closed was his and you got ready to knock, but the door just slid open. He was sitting up at a desk across from the bed and he glanced over at your panicked face.

"What the hell was that noise?"

"The metal crushing?"

"Yes!" You gaped and came further into the room.

"Sand worm. We're fine." He assured you, and when it happened again, you jumped so hard he got up and went to you.

"Hey, it's fine." He placed his hands on your arms, and he felt you were shaking.

"That's NOT a sand worm." You insisted, the noise happened again but louder. Even he was a little surprised by the volume of it and he walked past you and toward the equipment room. You followed close behind him and he typed on the console and a hologram of the base popped up, a bright red flashing dot appearing the top right corner.

"Oh, great." He grunted and you looked at him then back to the dot.

"What?"

"The storm must have damaged the drone silo; it seems they're all falling out of the hangar." He clicked his tongue, and you sighed in relief. Sure, that sounded expensive, but a giant monster wasn't going to break in. You were still shaking a bit; your adrenaline had spiked again but your body was so worn out that it wiped you out more.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yeah?" He stepped closer and he was dangerously close to you now.

"I won't let anything happen to you, doll." He smirked, his finger coming up and brushing a lock of hair away from your face, which turned red.

"No?" You stepped even closer, your own hand moving to trace over the rings he had on each finger. The smirk grew and the hand you were touching wrapped around yours and he pulled you to him. Chest to chest, his other arm wrapped around you, your other hand resting on his shoulder. Woozi brought your linked fingers to his lips and kissed over your knuckles, and when he reached your thumb, he sucked it into his mouth. You exhaled harshly and your free hand cupped his jaw.

"How about I help you relax?" He asked, his fiery gaze meeting yours.

"Please." You whispered; his lips so close to yours now. Letting your hand go, you dropped it to his other shoulder, and his strong arms engulfed you, pressing you into him. Woozi sealed his lips over yours and you whined, his tongue immediately swirling around yours. He tasted good, almost like some kind of soda you only had once or twice in your life. His hands on you were hot, his body pressed to yours was hard and his kiss was consuming. When he finally pulled away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connected your lips and you nearly slumped against him. His presence was all encompassing, and your head was already swimming, he was some kind of drug.

"Can I do something?" You ask, his lips still close to yours, your breath mingling.

"Whatever you want, doll." Woozi complied, so you pulled back a bit but instead of stepping away from him, you sank to your knees. His finger came to your chin and made you look up at him.

"If you're going to do that, I want you to sit on my face while you do." He told you and your eyes widened.

"Okay." You shrugged and instead of reaching his hand to help you up, he bent and scooped you into his arms and carried you to the bed. You weren't big, but he did it so easily. Letting out an 'oof' as he dropped you onto his bed, your eyes got bigger as he began to strip. The tight black shirt came off and you nearly drooled. His body looked just as good as it felt, and you couldn't wait for him to drop his pants. He undid his belt and with an aggressive snap, he pulled it off and dropped it on the floor. With a smirk, he made eye contact with you and let his pants fall. You were not expecting him to have nothing on underneath and his hard cock bounced some from being released, smacking against his stomach. Your mouth watered. Stepping out of the clothes, he stalked over to you and pushed you onto your back. It wasn't hard or aggressive, more playful, and he hooked his fingers in the waist band of both your leggings and panties, then yanked them off. Woozi deftly unsnapped your breast band and threw that off you as well. Laying on his back, he patted his shoulders and you hesitantly moved to where he wanted you.

"Come on, doll." He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled your dripping cunt onto his face. You squealed, falling forward, and catching yourself on your arms. You found yourself right in front of his pretty cock and since he was already shoving his tongue into your core, you enveloped the head of his cock with your lips. Neither of you could get over how the other tasted and he grunted when you just kept swallowing his cock deeper into your mouth and throat. His arms tightened their hold around your thighs, and he sucked on your clit. You twitched at the sensation, losing your pace and you gagged on his cock. The spasming of your throat squeezed his cock deliciously and he couldn't wait to fill your cunt. When he buried his tongue inside you as deep as he could, you moaned again, the hand loosely holding his cock squeezed a bit and his hips jumped, making you swallow him more.

"Cum, doll." He ordered, nipping your clit and you did as he told. The vibrations of your moan hit his cock and you sucked hard, setting his own orgasm off. Spurts of sticky white cum painted your throat and mouth and dripped down his shaft when you couldn't contain it all. Still semi-hard, you pulled your mouth off of him with a pop, then licked him clean.

"You taste so good~" You cooed; he was about to tell you the same thing. Helping you dismount his face; you just roll over onto your back and flop to the bed. He smirked, sitting up and rolled you again so you were on your stomach. He kneeled behind you and lifted your hips up, making you rest on your knees. Your chest and face were still touching the mattress and he rubbed his thumb over you dripping folds, then the cold metal of his rings touched the flesh and you shivered.

"W-what do those do anyway?" You asked.

"Wanna find out?" When he asked you turned to look at him and nodded. Little blue sparks flew off of them, then a hologram-like gauntlet surrounded each hand. Suddenly, warmth spread over your skin, and you yelped as ribbon like tendrils shot out from his hands and wrapped around your body. It wasn't bondage, they just wrapped around like vines, over your legs and arms, your abdomen, and breasts. They were warm and tingled and when it got done, the end landed right above your clit.

"Oh, god." You gasped; the sensation dull but incredibly sensual.

"What about this?" He asked and then the ribbons tightened, and this forced a moan out of you. His hands then grabbed the flesh of your ass, the tingling hologram on his hands leaving the same sensation as the ribbons.

"Ready?" He asked and you felt the fat head of his cock at your entrance. Your body was buzzing in so many different ways and you whined positively, and he started to ease in. The burn of his girth fucking opens your walls heightened every other pleasurable sensation in your body and he groaned at how tight you were, so wet you were literally dripping.

"Ah~ (Y/N)…" He groaned finally filling you up completely. Your head was swimming and he simply grinded as deep into you as he could, his pelvis meeting your ass. When he didn’t do anything more than that you whined pitifully, needing him to move more than that.

"Woozi…" You mewled and he groaned.

"You're so tight, baby girl." His voice had rumbled through you. You yiped when the ribbons tightened then began to move again. You couldn't see behind you, but when he groaned, you felt the ribbons wrap around his cock as well and the heat intensified, and he began to move. His thrusts were shallow but hard, and he made sure to roll as deep as he could with each thrust.

"Fuck, I'm not letting you go anytime soon, doll. Even if the storm lets up." He grunted with each thrust, then stopped. You were about to complain but he leaned over you, his hands landing by your head, and you could see better the blue light around his hands.

"You want more?"

"Pl-please…" You huffed and he pumped his hips, snapping his cock into you hard after nearly pulling out all the way. Your mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out and tears pricked your eyes at the intense feeling of him rearranging your guts. He was fucking you like an animal, nearly growling above you, drool was leaving a dark spot near your mouth on the sheets.

"W-Woo-Woozi!" Feeling your orgasm coming fast, he leaned over you more, wrapping his arms around your middle to haul you up, his chest to your back. His hands cupped your breasts and the ribbons tightened even further and he grunted two more times, spilling inside of you, this sent you over the edge. One of his hands was on your throat, just lightly holding you in place as your whole body spasmed. You orgasm faded shortly after his and your body stung, the ribbons leaving you calmed the burn, and he helped you curl up in the bed. You watched the dancing patterns of the screen saver on his wall display, dazed, barely registering him moving around. When he came back into view you slightly noticed the continuing metal crunch of the drone silo, but it was the least of your concerns.

"You know, I think the storms might last a few days…" He sat on the bed next to you, wearing a pair of boxers now.

"I hope they last the whole month," You mumbled, and this made him laugh.

"Me too, doll."

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Taglist: @gaslysainz

[redactahoe]

pretty darlin appreciation listener addition

this is a compellation of everyone finding darlin hot and darlin not getting it this is part 1 with all the relevent listeners and part 2 will include the boys this is inspired by @whorefordarlin btw

this might be long af

the only physical trait i give to trait is a beefy build and short hair tw: alot of simping shenanigans, mention of shitty foster care parents/neglectful parents, i cant spell so be warned

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

angel:(set durring darlins first meeting back)

angel had no idea what to expect from this 'mysterious pack member'. but it definitely wasn't this. i mean give angel some credit with the way the pack described the pack member it made them out to be some sort biker gang delinquent with and eye patch or something! but no the person Infront of the angel was most definitely not what they expected.

they were about 6 inches taller than them and and had a very pretty face with all kinds of pretty piercings on it. they were wearing a patched up leather jacket with a tank top under neath, tattered but tight jeans, and some beat up combat boots. all of this layered on top of they're very broad frame.

"Hi, i'm angel! nice to meet you!" angel greets with a nervous but excited glint in their eyes.

"oh! davids mate right?, nice to meet you too." tanker greeted back and GOOODD!! their voice was so fucking sexy. their voice was deep with a slight rasp to it that made angels face go red and burst into a fit of flustered giggles.

thus began the slightly awkward conversation between angel and tanker before the pack meeting started. with a red faced angel barely being able to keep together and a very concerned tank trying to decipher what all the giggling means

"hey by the way i think i scared your mate...". the pack meeting finally ended. tank ad david were going some final things when tank brought up angels strange behavior's.

david let out an amused huff "pft- i don't think you have to worry about tanker." he had this amused all knowing smile spread across his face recalling the 5 minute rant angel went on about just how hot tanker was.

"i- what does that mean???"

"don't worry about"

babe:(set in a library near asher and babes apartment)

"baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe im bored.." asher was starting to remember why he disliked libraries so much. they were everything he wasn't, quiet.

"asher i told you that you didn't have to come in with me today" asher's fiancé thick accent rang out quietly through the room. today babe had been called in the fill the last few minutes of someone's shift at the library because they had to go home early.

but before asher could reply the bell at the front door rings out as a very familiar head of white hair is spotted

"well hey there tanker, what you doin' here?" asher genuinely forgot that tank actually loved reading but he loved teasing (lovingly) them about it. "i could ask you the same thing, aren't you the one who constantly complains about libraries being boring or something?" tanker sarcastically shot back.

babes head wiped around breaking out of their concentration at the new voice. so this was the elusive 'super hot biker that comes in every Saturday', as their coworkers described them.

and that description was pretty accurate. they had sharp, half lidded eye that had this twinkle to them that made babe feel like they were in a ya novel when the made eye contact with the very attractive wolf. they some how have both a baby face and a nice sharp jawline and the same time. their hair was cut short and was slightly messy that made them some how even hotter. they were dressed in a lazy zip up hoodie and a band t-shirt along with the forbidden grey sweat pants.

they were hypnotic, alluring, fucking enchanting they wer-

"hey you good?" a deep rasping voice snaped them out of their own spiral. making them realize that A. they had been starring at poor confused wolf and B. asher had this all knowing, shit eating grin spread across his stupidly handsome face.

"o-oh right, um h-how can i help you?" shit their all flustered now and probably made tanker uncomfortable as well

"ive just come to return these." they answered noticeably not making eye contact with them, and thankfully. babe didn't now if the could keep together any longer if they had to keep looking at those bewitching eyes of theirs.

tanker heaves the stack of books they were holding onto the counter. "um o-oh y-yeah okay, let me just...." babe trailed off as they focused back to their work.

the transaction went by pretty fast with tank and Asher playfully bantering back and forth all the while babe processed the book returns. eventually all books were processed and tank was off on their way. Asher turns to them with the same shit eating grin on his face and states "aren't i glad you met me before tanker huh?"

sweetheart:(first day at high school, they're childhood besties)

"its okay, im sure this new family and school will really click with you!" sweethearts social worker had always been an optimistic women even though both of them knew the women was partially lying.

rita had been sweethearts social worker since they 6. so she most likely knew the whole song and dance of sh being forgotten and then eventfully returned. but she didn't know was that a new family meant new neglectful parents but it also meant new asshole kids and new neglectful teachers.

"sure..." to be entirly honest with you they weren't exactly excited, with the old bullies it was easy to predict and avoid. but with new bullies there was always a learning period and those always hurt the worst.

but eventually and much to sweethearts dismay they arrived to their final destination, met their new family and unpack their things into their "bedroom'. though you couldnt really call it a bedroom, it was more like mattress and night stand in an unfinished basement but they've had worse.

it took awhile but sleep came and went. they were up and out of the door by 5 am sharp, theyve made it a habit to not stick around and 'be a bother'. they sat down at the bus stop and got emersed into a book, the wait would be long after all.

they were so emersed they didn't notice the warm body that sat next to them. that was until of course that person fell asleep and start to let a soft snore. turning to look at them had sweetheart slightly fluster but also worry.

they had remarkably clear skin for a 15 year old and had short but shaggy hair that fell over and framed their face almost perfectly. but on the other hand they dressed and had the general demeaner of a typical bully. the cool and Grundy punk style they had to them though didn't come of as forced like alot of the others, it looked so natural and so good on them, well good enough to make sweethearts teenage heart flutter.

......okay that may have been a bit of a stretch since the person was asleep, but this was a good opportunity to scope out a possible danger that didn't with sweetheart getting pummeled... hopefully.

a sharp and admittedly cute snort interrupted sh's thoughts as that person woke up. there was a bleary almost adorably clueless look in their eyes as they but two and two together on where they were.

they looked around and made eye contact with sweetheart, then looked down at the book they had. and smiled...... but then quickly looked straight ahead

why did they have to be so. god. damn. gorgeous????

and what makes it worse (read as: better) was that they didnt even know any one knew about this book!!!

"u- um do you like this series?"

why did the say?!?!?! what compelled sweetheart to blurt that out in the most awkward way possibl-

"oh um, yeah its actually my favorite..." there was a slight nervous chuckle at the end of that sentence that made sh's heart sore in ways they never felt before.

the question and reply started an unlikely friendship between the two that no one, not even sweetheart saw coming. all because sh' thought the were pretty and liked the same book

lovely:(lovely was getting repairs done on their guitar when tank walks in)

this was the worst.....

lovely couldn't believe they had to sit here in this ironically quit music store. it was days like these they wish Vincent could go out into sunlight. it would mean at the very least they would have him there to bored along with them. but alas that wasn't the case.

they heard that this store in particular was good at repairs with instruments and had decent prices though. it was a small music shop that was decorated with history music, old expensive instruments lined the walls with a few poster of famous rock a metal idols along with them.

the only other person in the store with them was this older Hispanic man that looked like a much older Gómez Addams

suddenly the man shot up from his seat as soon as the shop bell ringed.

" aye!!! i havent seen in awhile where have you been lobo?!" the older Hispanic man that was working on their guitar asked with excitement towards the person

"ive been busy old man, i cant just hang around the shop all day like i did when i was kid." the deep raspy voiced stranger responded with amusement.

and when they came just a little close..... they just were so pretty???

lovely didnt even know if it was just the lighting or something but they were prettier than Vincent! and Vincent was stage 10 pretty boy but this random person in this small little music shop was prettier!?!? now dont get them wrong they love Vincent very much but for a brief moment they considered snapping a picture and asking Vincent for a polycule with this random but very attractive stranger. all the while the stranger was conversation with the old clerk while he works on lovely's guitar they were able to get a good look at them.

they well built but like in that really hot muscular with a layer of softness over the muscles that made them look both very strong but very huggable, the had soft short hair that lovely would've broken bones to run their had through. in their eyes there was this mysterious almost teasing look to them that had lovely hooked and all types of hot and bothered. everything about them was just so tantalizing.

the stranger or lobo as the store clerk called them had this aura around them that could only be described as playful but mysterious and those scars looked so good. lovely didn't know many people in real live make having scars so sexy-

" how did you fuck up this thing so bad??" the older clerk cries throwing his hands on his head in distress snapped them out of their small simping spiral. when looking at what the old man was talking about they saw a well used and loved bass sitting on the counter, guitar was already finished and set off to the side.

the body of the bass was slightly cracked and the strings looked like they were a tap away from snapping.

"I told you've i've been busy...." lobo trailed off almost ashamed of the state of their bass"

the older man only mumbled something in spanish about bullshit excuses and turned of to call out to lovely, telling them he's done with the repairs and told them the price. they paid and excited the building only catching the beginning of a likely very hefty scolding about the importants of bass care.

they immediately whipped out their phone once out of ear shot and called Vincent.

"vinney you will not believe i just saw someone prettier that you!!!"

okay thats it for now thxs for reading, srry for any spelling mistakes

[the-froschamethyst4]

“So do you speak English or Spanish?”

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Daddy! Alejandro x Wife! Mommy! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, wholesome, husband and wife, children, school, badly translated Spanish

Alejandro’s and Y/n’s kids go to school their oldest son Santiago is in 4th grade and their daughter Maria is in 2nd grade

They mainly speak English because of their mom but occasionally speak Spanish because of their papi, it’s not good Spanish because their still learning but they speak it

But what happens when both accidentally let the Spanish slit out every once and a while confusing their classmates

———————

———————

Y/n had woken up from her daughter knocking on her bedroom door. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, she smiled and looked at her daughter.

“Good morning, baby,” she smiles. She opened her arms and Maira came running and hugging her mom.

“Mami, I don’t want to go to school,” she whines.

“I know, baby, school sucks, but you have to go and be smart, like your papi and I,” Y/n said kissing her daughters forehead.

“Okay,” she whines and got off the bed and went to her bedroom to get dressed for school.

Y/n rolled out of her bed and saw her son Santiago walk passed the bedroom door.

“Santi? What are you wearing?” Y/n asked as she made the bed and she heard Santiago groan and walk back to the bedroom door.

“Just clothes.” Santiago was wearing a light blue t-shirt, black jeans and black vans.

“Santiago, it’s almost eighty degrees outside.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Santiago, I don’t want to get a call from your school that you passed out because I let you walk out in jeans, go put shorts on,” she said as he groaned and walked back to his bedroom to change.

Y/n put her hair up and changed out of her pajamas to some more professional clothing because of where she works.

“SANTI! MARIA! COME ON THE BUS WILL BE HERE SOON!!” Y/n said as she gave Maria a pop tart and Santiago one too. “Just eat it on the bus.”

“But we’re not allowed to eat on the bus,” Maria said.

“Sneak it,” Y/n said as she kissed her sons and daughters head and watched them leave the house to their normal bus stop.

“Santi, I’m not really hungry,” Maria said, picking at the crust around the pop tart.

“What? You’re always hungry,” Santiago said as he stuffed his face.

“Not today,” she said, giving her breakfast to her oldest brother. He didn't hesitate to wolf down the food.

"Why aren't you eating, mami and papi are gonna be mad if they find out you haven't been eating breakfast."

"I eat lunch, that's good enough," Maria said as one of Santiago's friends Luis came running to the bus stop, he was out of breath and his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

"Jesus...my mom didn't wake me up...till...5 minutes...ago," he pants, Santiago chuckles and Maria just rolled her eyes.

--------

Y/n walked into her work and sat her stuff down, she worked around a bunch of women who always talked about their lives, husbands, girlfriends and kids. Y/n fit in with them perfectly because of her almost being just like them.

Since Y/n's kids are bilingual, she'll sometimes talk about how Maria will sometimes mess up words in Spanish and it's all cute, and she'll even talk about when Santiago was little always confusing some words in Spanish and English.

"Good morning, Y/n," Briella said with a smile on her face, she was the oldest employee who has been there almost since the start of the company, and funny thing is she's only 4 years younger than Y/n.

"Good morning, Briella, how's Gracie?"

"Good, she almost missed the bus this morning."

"The same with mine, but they got out just in time," she smiles as she clocked in.

"Hey, Y/n, we're going to the local bar downtown if you wanna come and join us?" Regan the companies General Manager and good friend to Y/n came up to her cubical and asked.

"Umm~ I'll think about it, I have to see if Alejandro is okay watching the kids for a while."

"Please, from how you talk about him, I'm pretty sure if you said you were going to the moon and won't be back for a year, he'll watch the kids for you."

"I know," she laughs. "But it never hurts to ask," as she say that she grabbed her phone and texted Alejandro.

Alejandro did stocks and worked very hard, almost every morning he was in a meeting, but Y/n had to at least ask to see if he was okay with it.

Mi Amor: Alejandro, I'm going to a bar with some of the girls from work, are you okay with watching the kids, while I'm gone?

Husband: I fine with anything, mi amor, you know I'll watch them

Mi Amor: Thank you, Ale, I owe you.

Husband: Yeah you do😏

Mi Amor: Nasty

Alejandro smirked at the text and slid his phone back into his pocket to listen to his boss.

"He said he's fine with it, guess I'm coming," she giggled, and the girls cheered.

--------

"Alright, everyone let's go ahead and do this assignment, we are going to be doing a color by number, sheet for multiplication," Santiago's teacher Mrs.Finch announced to the class.

"Santiago, can you get me a blue," Santiago's other friend Mark said as Santiago was already up to go get his colors.

"Sure," Santiago said.

Santiago had his sheet in his hand to see what colors he needed.

"Rojo, azul, amarillo, verde, morado, negro, marron, (red, blue, yellow, green, purple, black, brown)." Santiago mumbled to himself, he liked speaking Spanish when it came to certain things, like colors, animals, plants, sports, stores, but he hardly did it in school.

"What are you saying?" A little girl named Jules came up next to Santiago.

"Huh?"

"What are you saying? That's not English, is that a made-up language?" She asked. Santiago was a little suspicious on how she's never heard Spanish before.

"It's Spanish," he told her.

"But you speak English." Jules said, crossing her arms.

"I'm bilingual," Santiago said.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, I speak two languages, English and Spanish, my mom speaks English and my papi speaks Spanish."

"Have you really never heard him speak Spanish before?" Mark asked Jules.

"No," she said with some attitude behind it. "I've never even heard of bilingual before, that seems made up."

"It's not," Santiago said.

"So, say something then in Spanish."

"Okay," without hesitation Santiago immediately thought of something. "Jules es una gran cabeza tonta y estúpida," he smirks.

"What does that mean?" Jules asked.

"It means. Jules is a big dumb stupid head," Santiago was proud and Jules stormed off to go find Mrs.Finch.

Santiago, Mark and Luis all laughed.

---------

Maria sat on her colored square on the Teacher's rug as they started to sing a song that went along with a book they were reading. Maria could barely keep up because some of the words were difficult.

Soon the song was over and Maria let out a small huff.

"Vaya, eso fue difícil (Geez, that was difficult)." Maria mumbled.

"Huh? What was that?"

"I said it was difficult."

"But how did you say it?"

"In Spanish," Maria said, confused.

"Spanish, I never heard Spanish like that before, I should know, I'm Spanish," the girl whose name was Bella, tried to flex that she knew Spanish but in reality, she didn't, she wanted to be different.

"Okay~ say something then if you know it," Maria asked.

"Fine, Mi perra come gusanos," she said, smirking at Maria like she just did something.

"You just said my dog eats worms," Maria said as some of the kids that surrounded them laughed at Bella.

"No, I said I'm the best."

"That would be something like this Soy el mejor, not what you just said," Maria said.

"Whatever."

"It's impressive that you do know it, you just have to learn your grammar and how to actually make a proper sentence," Maria giggled.

Bella walked away and Maria went back to her cubby grabbing a book to read.

-----------

Alejandro walked through the door of his home and set everything down by the door. He took off his shoes and loosened his tie, he took off his blazer and set it on the coat rack.

He went upstairs to go take a shower before having to go get the kids off the bus.

Soon he got out and put on black t-shirt and gray sweatpants. He went outside the porch and leaned on the railing to wait for his kids. He saw the bus up ahead stopping at a kid's house and then to the bus stop. Alejandro smiled seeing his daughter get off first and she came running towards him.

"PAPI!!" She yells, Alejandro smiled and walked down to pick her up, he kissed her forehead as they waited for Santiago next, which wasn't long.

Santiago smiled seeing his dad home.

"Come on, it's just us tonight, mami is out with some co-worker friends." He says.

"Does that mean we get McDonald's for dinner?" Maria asked.

"Do you want some?" He asked and Maria just excitedly nodded her head. "Alright, we can get some, do you want McDonald's Santiago?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Santiago asked, taking his bookbag off his shoulders.

"Alright go get out of your school clothes and we'll head there," Alejandro smiles.

--------

Once in the car, Alejandro saw his two kids have a big smile on their faces.

"Why are you two so smiley?" He asks.

"Because I stood up to some girl," Santiago said first.

"HEY I DID TOO!" Maria yelled.

"What do you mean?" Alejandro asked.

"Some girl named Jules in my class asked what language I was speaking, and I told her Spanish and then she asked me to say something in Spanish and I called her a stupid head," Santiago and Maria both laughed.

"I said some girl in my class said her dog liked to eat worms and she thought she said she was the best, but I told her how that would sound versus what she said," Alejandro was proud that his kids stood up to some kids.

Alejandro was also proud that his kids weren't ashamed of their Spanish side and put some people in their places.

"I'm proud of both of you, but Santiago next time don't call her a stupid head, maybe something more clever next time," Alejandro chuckled.

"Okay, papi," he smiles.

--------

Y/n was having a blast at the bar, her and the girls all singed and dance and enjoyed all their drinks they were getting. She looked at the time and saw she should get going and head home for the night.

At least she didn't drink too much, she didn't want to abandon her car at a random bar or take an UBER with a stranger.

She bid farewell to her friends and will see them at work tomorrow and headed home.

Once she arrived home, she could see the TV on in the living room hopefully the kids went to bed and it's just Alejandro still up. She opened the front door and saw it was her kid's favorite TV show Bluey, meaning the kids were still up.

She saw the tops of their heads on the couch, she creeped over to them all passed out together, Maria's head on Alejandro's right shoulder, Santiago on the other side, Alejandro's mouth open and head back with light snoring coming from him.

Alejandro's arm wrapped around Maria's waist and his other hand resting on Santiago's small leg, Y/n smiled at the scene in front of her and took a picture to remember it.

She turned off the TV and gently moved Alejandro's arm and hand and she gently picked up Maria first putting her bed then Santiago.

She came back downstairs and gently woke up her husband. His eyes fluttered open, once he saw her, he gave her the biggest smile ever.

"Hi, mi amor."

"Hi, guapa (handsome), come on, let's go to bed. I went ahead and put them two in bed."

"Did you have fun?" He asked as he walked behind her.

"I did, I should get out more often."

"You should, we had fun," he smiles as he plopped on his side of the bed and Y/n changed out of her work attire into her pajamas. She got on her side and cuddled up to her husband's side and kissed his jawline.

"Good night."

"Night, amor," he kissed the top of her head.

[merakiui]

Tw: slut shaming, incel!Idia, him being gross, noncon, size kink kinda, afab but crossdressing, etc

Imagine just bullying Idia daily when you game with him, calling his penis small repeatedly, this man had enough of your daily shenanigans, but the more he sees you the more he notices just how small you are compared to him to be just a normal male.

Your body is just so..... Feminine. Your frame is small but your thighs thick? Now he just has to test for himself, he bets that you were a slut who only likes getting gangbanged by the Savanaclaw students.

Come on? A girl crossdressing in an all boys school? We all know this troupe. He bets you are all loose from all the fucking you did,( little did he know you were a virgin all along, what non virgin would hang out with him daily anyway?)

He decided to take action against your mockery and pins you on the floor while you were distracted with your game,

"Hey prefect, tell me, why would a man wear more clothes around their chest?"

"W-what?! Get off me you tiny penis bitch, even squidward's nose is bigger-"

Idia wasted no time to strip you off your clothing, he was right after all, you were a girl, all girls are the same after all, it's their fault that no one wants to fuck him, you are just yet another loose slut.

He zip ties your hands then begins licking your cunt, this taste is quite addictive, but why isn't it all wet an soppy like in hentai? He attempts to shove a finger in but his single finger is getting clamped like crazy, no way..... You were a virgin? But no aren't you a slut?

He continues to lick your clit while his large hands keep your legs open, he stares at you, you really are a girl huh? How did he never catch that? As he did what hentai taught him you slowly gushed on his face, no longer fighting back from being all brain mushy.

He almost cummed in his pants but it's okay, you were meant to be bred anyway like the bitch you are. As he inserted his long dick you started to cry.

"Its too big, it won't fit. Can we stop this already?"

"Where did this your snarky bitchy attitude go? What happened with calling me tiny? No no, you're staying right here, this is all your fault. You finish what you started."

When he filled you to the brim, he can notice the massive bulge of himself inside of you, tiny you say? You were regretting your words right there, you started to scream and squirm as he thrusted.

It burns, it stings, it hurts, its feels good...wait what? You began slurring your words, you went from screaming no to screaming more. He finished inside of you.

White was oozing out, he took pics for later purposes. From that incident onwards Idia started to take action against you. You were converting from a brat to a cutie pliant kitten.

You do what he asks you to, like wearing a collar with his name on it, and wearing the skirts with tights you oh so despise. Every time you wanted to act out, he always threatened to share pictures of you and hack into the whole campus's phone just to spread it, maybe next time you should have watched your words.

UUUWUAAAAA IZUNA, THIS IS DELICIOUS OTL OTL OTL OTL

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied captivity, non-con, pregnancy mentions, incel idia, misogyny)

And he’ll make you sit on his lap and cockwarm him while he’s gaming. Maybe he’ll make you wear a ball gag so you won’t be too noisy when he’s on vc. If you’re good and you don’t cum, he might let you take off that cute, revealing outfit you can’t stand. Maybe he’ll let you wear his hoodie. It’ll be so oversized on you. He might just fuck you in it. :) he probably uses you as a reference for when he’s sketching. He’ll stuff you full of all kinds of sex toys just so he can improve his anatomy or certain poses. Or he’ll want to recreate scenes from his favorite hentai.

And if you can just stop complaining and take his cock like the good kitten you are, he’ll bring you birth control, all that stuff girls need for their monthly periods, and anything else you might want. But that’s only if you’re obedient. He’ll dangle all of these good things in front of you because with the click of a button he can have them ordered to his dorm, but he can take them away just as fast. All it takes is one bratty comment from you and he might not let you take any birth control. He never bothers to wear condoms either because doing it raw is so much better. Idia has plenty of money and resources to care for a child (not that he’s truly ready for parenthood, but you’d look cute with a round belly and he’s always wanted to try pregnancy sex…), and if it’s you he wouldn’t mind it. But maybe that’s just his dick talking. Logical Idia says there’s no way he’d be able to take on that sort of challenge, but Idia when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you and you’re digging your nails into his shoulders thinks there would be nothing better than knocking you up and waiting for your belly to swell and your tits to grow a size or two and begin leaking. :)

That’s really all you’re good for, isn’t it? You should’ve known what you were getting into when you found yourself stuck at an all-boys academy. That’s basically a hentai waiting to happen. You’re basically signing yourself up to be a communal cumdump. Idia feels lucky he got to you before anyone else did. There are so many eligible bachelors here… there’s no way he can compete with them, but now he has you and he doesn’t have to compete. You may be a little brat when you aren’t stuffed full of cock, but at least he sees the real you when you’re under him, completely at his mercy and always melting at the slightest touch. He’ll condition his kitten well until you know exactly what to say and do when he expects it.

[nerves-nebula]

Hi! This is going to sound weird, but you really are the only blog I know that talks so openly about abuse and strained family relationships, so I come bearing a question or more so, hope for some advice. The thing is, I don't know what is wrong with my family. Like, I know we aren't perfectly healthy and that being here makes me feel awful, but I can't pinpoint what exactly is wrong. My parents don't beat me up and they don't prohibit me from doing normal teenager stuff. But, well, one of them does yell at me and my siblings, insults me and makes fun of me when I try to respond, tells me things like "you choose to feel bad" or "you only want to move out because you don't want to have anyone reminding you have responsabilities", she marks everything I do wrong with a lot of severity, even the little things like how I put on my clothes. And the other one simply isn't present. Even when he's here he doesn't intervene, like he's some sort of spectator and not a vital part of this family. They love me and my siblings, that much I'm certain, but they completely fuck it up on a daily basis. And I feel like I have to pick up the pieces because I'm the oldest and supposedly an adult already (according to my parents) (I'm 17). I'm very tired now and don't know where I'm going with this anymore. Just, asking for some advice and hoping I'm not being too much, sorry.

HEY. THIS IS like literally the same situation as me lmao. My parents ALSO don't beat me and they also didn't generally prevent me from doing normal teen shit (ok well that ones complicated but it's w/e ). one of them is usually away as well.

it sounds like, from what you've said here, that your parents (or parent?) are emotionally abusive. my mom doesn't have to beat me to make me feel sick and paranoid for days after visiting her. both my parents have a habit of just fucking sitting back and watching horrible shit go down in our family.

my parents have fostered a culture of blanket cruelty and ridicule and disregard for people's feelings that makes living with them a fucking nightmare. it's also made all of us WORSE people to be around to the point that it's still effecting me and my siblings relationships today because we're generally just more likely to be cruel and not realize how mean we're being (examples include laughing at peoples misfortune, laughing at people's emotions, not taking someone's emotions as seriously as we should, being dismissive, being unemapthetic/unsympathetic, and a whole host of other tiny behaviors we have to consciously work on)

me and my sisters used to say that our family wasn't exactly "broken" but we are severely dysfunctional. because we couldn't exactly figure out where we fit into the broken to healthy family scale. we were definitely NOT healthy, but also definitely not "broken" so, we settled on dysfunctional.

and i've talked about this before, but my parents DO love me. they do believe that they love me, and i know that for sure. HOWEVER the WAY they love me is in a way that I refuse to accept as valid/genuine love. because if i accepted that as valid love, then i would have to accept any other abusive person or stalker's love as equally valid. if you claim to love someone and just treat them like shit all the time, break their boundaries, and dismiss their feelings, then it doesn't really matter how much you think you care about them cause you're hurting them, and refusing to change.

anyway, one of your parents severity reminded me of something! all my mom does all day is judge people. it's like, a hobby of hers. she's made me hella neurotic about appearing in public because i KNOW people like her are out there judging everyone by every possible metric. she's often needlessly cruel and very randomly strict about things (wont care one day if i wear pants/shorts to church under my dress but will have a screaming fit about it some other day) growing up with her was a nightmare because if you didn't do things the way she saw as the right way, she would mock and belittle you. and if you said that hurt your feelings she would laugh, because it's "not a big deal" or something.

the only upside to this was that me and my siblings got very, VERY good at being mean back to her. so by the time we were all teens we were like rabid dogs chomping at the bit to absolutely roast her ass.

the unfortunate side of this is that i can be very quick witted when it comes to being mean to someone i love but it takes me much, MUCH longer to think of something nice to say. which makes me seem like i don't think nice things about my loved ones. oops!

SORRY FOR THE RANT HAHA- to get back to your question, it sounds like your parents don't respect your emotions in a really damaging way, which hey, i'm sorry about.

also 17 is not basically an adult. like maybe im not the best to ask about this cause im not even over 25 yet (btw im not saying my exact age thats why i keep giving general age ranges lol) but like. 17 is absolutely not an adult. 18-19 is like, a baby adult at BEST. it sounds like there might be some parentification going on if you have to "pick up the pieces" for them because you're "basically an adult" but i'd need to know more to say for sure.

etc etc your feelings are valid or w/e. sorry not sure how to end this.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

my morning sun

TW: mentions of drug use and addiction

I wrote that daisy jones and the six au I posted about! Brain's just been marinating in this au for a week so huge thanks to my lovely gf @hangsters for beta reading and general enablement

There will me more so if you liked this please reblog or leave a comment over on Ao3!

--------

Everyone knows it wasn't easy when the struggling rock band, Top Gun, added another frontman. Pete "Maverick" Mitchell was loud, experimental and, above all, troubled. But he was fresh out of rehab, his image could do with a little cleaning up and, hey, they're on the same label? Original frontman Tom "Iceman" Kazansky was just going to have to shut up and put up if he wanted him and his friends at the top of the charts.

And thats exactly where they are today. Taking the music scene by storm, selling out shows, and it seems like the two guys out front have sorted it all out.

But that doesn't mean people aren't still speculating.

--------

All rock and roll bands have rumors that follow them around. And being the biggest band out there, you have the biggest crop of them. Anything to say on that front?

Pete Mitchell: (Laughter) Which ones exactly? The ones that we hate each other or the ones that we’re too close? People can’t seem to make up their damn minds.

Tom Kazansky: Well it’s no secret that Maverick joining the band was (pause) rocky at first. We’re just two very different musicians at heart, as well as we work together now. It took time to find a way our styles could marry together, my more technical approach and Maverick’s improvisational instincts. Honestly, if you’d asked me back then I would have said he was the wrong fit for Top Gun. That it wasn’t going to work out. And now look at us, we wouldn’t be where we are without him. 

Pete Mitchell: You wouldn’t have said I wasn’t the right fit, you’d have yelled it at me after I wrecked one of your precious riffs. Maybe while throwing something. 

Tom Kazansky: He’s joking. We had some creative disagreements. 

Pete Mitchell: It’s all good now though. We’re down to one recording studio bust up a week. Small price to pay for some of the best music on the scene these days. 

Good to hear. And what about those other rumors you mentioned? What about the song Aurora?

It was strange to think the place they could stand close together without fear was up on stage in front of a crowd. Lips nearly brushing in front of one microphone, noses bumping, panting into each other’s mouths, sharing one breath, and the people all just screamed for more. 

“When I was away

You called from a fever dream

The crazy ways are done.

You’re my morning sun

How Aurora

You're my morning sun…”

There was something about knowing just how many eyes were on them, how many people had come to watch them play and hear their music, but in front of them all, Maverick only had eyes for the man an inch in front of his face. For Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. That little smile tugging at the edge of his mouth, the intensity in the depths of his blue green eyes, the way his teeth snagged on his lower lip in between lyrics, that all belonged to Tom. 

“Babe, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever

(I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever)

Mm, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever

(I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever)”

Their voices wove in and around each other, like two raindrops running down a window pane, colliding and joining and splitting and reforming. Neither one of them took the call and neither took the response, it didn’t feel like that. They did nothing but sing wholly as one, their voices making the same journey. Two people who couldn’t look more different but wanted to get in front of the same microphone and say the same thing. 

“Babe, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever

(I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever)

Mm, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever

(I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever)”

It was hard to tear his attention away from Maverick, stood in front of him, chin tilted up to look into his eyes, muscles in his jaw working as he sang, but Tom didn’t let himself forget that the rest of the band were killing it behind them. Slider proving his nickname as his fingers slid up and down the frets of his bass to make it wail, Alice’s fingers flitting across the keys effortlessly like Mozart if Mozart crocheted his own yellow tube tops, and under it all Goose kept them anchored with a complex drum rhythm that gave them all somewhere to come home to. 

Tom always went into interviews and told people they were the best band in the world. Of course he did, it was his job, he was the frontman. But here on stage, playing with the people who’d trusted him enough to follow him out here, he realized it was true. They were really fucking good. 

“Babe, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever

(I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever)

Mm, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever

(I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever)”

Enough people had told Tom he only came alive when he was on stage. Without a guitar in his hand and a microphone in front of him, he was stiff, awkward, cold. That was part of the reason they’d needed Maverick, they’d needed someone who didn’t approach every interview like a caged tiger pressed up against the wall. But once Tom had his instrument, his shield, he became a different person. His hips started rolling, his feet started tapping, like he was possessed by all those fifties rockers he’d grown up adoring and seeing something of himself in. Tom became the Iceman, he became captivating, suddenly whatever he was growling into the mic was something everyone wanted to hear. He became animated by his own music, like some part of him that had always been missing was filled by those heavy riffs and raw, aching lyrics. They didn’t fill the gaps entirely but Tom had always thought that maybe it was those left over bits that made it all work.

And then Maverick got on stage with him. And suddenly everything was whole. 

“When I was away

You called from a fever dream

The crazy ways are done.

You’re my morning sun

How Aurora

You're my morning sun…”

His Maverick. His morning sun. 

You’re my morning sun

How Aurora

You're my morning sun…”

And up here, Tom could almost act like it. 

They didn’t get a chance to close that distance until the door of the hotel room closed behind them.

Once it was their world again, Maverick wasted no time, shoving Tom until his back hit the door, pressing their lips together hard enough to hurt. Tom responded in harmony, bringing his hands up to hold Mav’s shoulders in a grip that would leave indents in his leather jacket, just in case he had any thoughts about moving away. They kissed until it burned, until they were gasping. 

“Fuck…one of these days I’m not gonna be able to keep myself from ripping your clothes off right there on stage,” Maverick was the first time find his voice which didn’t surprise Tom. He used to joke that he’d only ever fucked him that first time to shut him up for five minutes. 

“Management might have an issue with that,” Tom warned with a breathless grin because he could never really tell when Maverick was serious, “At least the stylists.”

He turned his frustrated growl into another kiss, dragging Tom into it by the lapels of his denim jacket, biting his lip to hold him there. The message was clear. Enough talk of out there. Let it go. Stay in here. 

Only Maverick had ever been able to tell Tom that and get it to stick. 

Tom let Maverick yank off his clothes impatiently, hurriedly, badges and buttons rattling as his jacket hit the thick carpet, then the silk shirt, then the jeans, his boots hitting the wall somewhere off to the left. He’d find it all later, he felt freer without them. 

But there was something almost sacrilegious about dismantling the Maverick people saw on stage, pulling down everything he’d carefully constructed. Tom knew exactly what it all meant to him, the bright tattoos that covered the scars from old fights and the thin ones across his chest. The patched flight jacket he’d been wearing since his dad gave it to him and cried at every rip and tear until Alice could repair it for him. The combat boots he’d let little Bradley doodle on in white marker. The ribbons in his hair, the eyeliner highlighting his already piercing gaze, the glitter streaking his cheekbones that didn’t match anything else, the fact he was dripping in jewelry, some that was wildly expensive in a way that made Tom choke and some that he’d picked up from roadside stands and thrift shops. Sometimes stripping it all away felt like tearing a painting out of its frame to look at the other side. 

But Tom knew that what was underneath was just as beautiful. He just wasn’t entirely sure Maverick agreed. So he would do his best to convince him.

He just went good and slow as he undressed him down to just the tattoos and the jewelry, kissing every inch of skin exposed, rewarding him for each piece of armor that fell away. Never quiet or still, every kiss drew a gasp from Maverick, made him squirm against the sheets, like just the touch of Tom’s lips was enough to light his nerves like a million tiny fuses. Tom traced the length of his wiry body, hitting certain points that he knew would make his lover jerk and yelp, bright stars in the constellations he mapped on Maverick’s skin. His earlobe, the underside of his jaw, the hollow of his throat, his collarbone, each of his already stiffening nipples, where it lit him up, where it tickled just so he could hear Mav laugh. 

Soon every inch of Maverick was shaking and his gasps had crystallized into desperate pleading, “Please…Ice, please, I need it, god…”

Tom smiled as he pulled his jeans down, scattering kisses on the inside of his thighs, “You’re gonna get it, baby. Have I ever left you wanting?”

He had to admit, it was nice to hear Mav begging for him the way he begged for other things. Tom just had to hope he was better for him than any of that stuff. 

Realizing that was probably one of the thoughts he was supposed to have pushed aside, Tom focused instead on Maverick, on following the trail of dark hair that started at his pierced naval and ended in a tangle between his legs. There were piercings here too, ones Tom rolled around his tongue, making Mav squeak and tighten his legs around his head. 

“You’re teasing,” he pouted, fingers tangling in Tom’s hair, tightening in warning. 

“You like being teased,” Tom reminded him, chuckling roughly. 

But his own impatience was rising, having Maverick all splayed out like this in front of him, the hot, amber and musk smell of him in his nose. Teasing was for when they weren’t coming off a four hour show where Maverick had done that goddamn microphone licking thing several times just to drive Tom wild. 

So he held his lover at the hips, nice and tight so he’d leave marks, so Mav would feel like he was still being held, long after Tom had been forced to let go. He buried his face against him, licking a long, board stripe up the whole length of him, hearing Mav shriek in response. He chased those sounds, chased the growing salt taste on his tongue, pressing deeper. Maverick sank into it, opened for him, knees locked around Tom’s ears and hips rolling up to meet his mouth. He rambled, sweet and senseless, like he thought he could only offer Tom his words, head tipped back so he was upside down and crying them to the rapidly darkening cityscape outside the hotel window. 

“Baby, baby, fuck, Tom, right there, God, yes, there-”

He broke hard with a cry of Tom’s name, high and wild like he’d howl at the apex of songs sometimes when the music was really in him. Like he only really let go out there and in here. Tom swallowed everything he could, though he was still dripping when he finally rose up. He rested his chin lightly on Maverick’s belly, giving him the playful, boyish grin that made him a good frontman.

“Love the way you sing when I do that for you…” he purred, voice rough and gravelly with overuse. 

Maverick gave a weak laugh, gathering his strength to drag Tom up lie beside him, “Can tell. You do that like it’s your fucking job and the rent is overdue.”

Tom gave a bark of laughter, snaking close until they were nose to nose, “Well. You taste pretty fucking good baby…” He caught his face and kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth, “See?”

Maverick gave a tremulous whimper, chasing down Tom’s tongue piercing, “Oh god, fuck me.”

“Was hoping you’d say something like that,” Tom nipped at his lip, just enough so he’d draw back and he could roll him over, pressing him into the soft mattress. 

“Nuh uh,” Mav purred, shifting and catching him at the shoulders, keeping them going until he was straddling Tom’s hips, “My turn to lead.”

“Naturally,” Tom smirked, shaking his head to clear the last of his long blonde hair from his eyes. 

Maverick grinned, holding his face as he kissed him. There was something about having all of his lover’s frenetic energy suddenly focused on him, something like being struck by lightning. Like all the world had shrunk down to a single point, sometimes a rhyme that wouldn’t resolve or a sound he wanted but couldn’t express the changes he needed technically, sometimes a riff that wouldn’t crystallize into genius.

Sometimes, the worst times, it was the next drink or the next bump or the next pill, the things he insisted he needed if he was going to sort out those first problems. 

Sometimes, the best times, it was Tom Kazansky.

So he surrendered in relief, letting Maverick light him up, pouring that desire into him like it was in his spit. It sank into Tom’s chest like good vodka, mixing with what was already there until it was all the same. Until there was nothing but the simple fact of life of their want for each other. 

Maverick shifted, wriggled, until Tom’s erection was settled against his soft heat, sinking down with an impatience that soon had him hissing. 

“Fuck,” he whined, though his hips didn’t still, didn’t stop until there was no more, just Tom’s hips, “How do you fit all this into those tight jeans?”

“That’s what they teach us at Julliard, actually,” Tom grinned breathlessly, thrilling when Mav laughed. 

Tom could feel the calluses on Maverick’s hands when he splayed them on his chest, the scars from broken strings and broken glass. He rocked on him, bucking his hips in a steady rhythm that beckoned, invited Tom to chase, pulled him to a higher tempo. He did, thrusting up into Mav so the smaller man nearly tipped forward, still laughing. They fucked the way they played together, messy and chaotic at first but as soon as they found their sound, god, it was sweet. Tom could sing to the rhythm of Maverick riding him, if he wasn’t knocked breathless by it, only able to moan his name over and over again, like that was the only word that mattered. 

Mav made up for it, throwing his head back and nearly sobbing, “That’s it, Ice, that’s it, god you fuck me so good, come on sweetheart, little faster, almost there-”

It was impossible to say who came first because it was impossible to tell themselves apart. One moment they were tense and tight and the next it all broke into release, that last tone reverberating in their ears. Two separate harmonies collapsing into the same silence. And it was bliss.

“Pete…” Tom panted, gathering him close, wrapping him up in his arms,  “I’ve got you…”

“God, Tom,” Maverick grinned, kissing where his pulse was pounding in his throat, words coming in snatched gasps as he tried to catch his breath, “Could lie here with you forever. Might not have a choice, how hard we went.”

“Maybe I’m not gonna give you a choice,” Tom murmured, a shadow in his smile now. 

“We have a party to go to,” Mav hummed lightly, after a pause that wasn’t light. 

The two men were songwriters, they’d carried secrets all their lives. They were well versed in saying things without really saying them, like a second language behind the one their tongues and teeth used. It was a way of minimizing the damage, sometimes for their own benefit, sometimes to protect others. Clear language was like clear glass, it was fucking sharp.

The trouble was they both understood that second language. 

Tom stroked Mav’s hair from his damp forehead, “There’s a party after every show. We can take a night off.” You’ve been getting high every night for the last month, it’s too much. 

Mav tilted his head, “It’s part of the tour, baby. Part of life on the road, it’s what gets me through it.” Don’t ask me to stay, you know I can’t say yes. 

Tom made a soft noise, thumb stroking Maverick’s temple, “Well…glad it’s nearly over then. Nearly time to go home.” Nearly time for you to keep your promise. 

There was a reason a certain three words hadn’t passed Ice’s lips, in any language. December 1st, the last night of the Top Gun tour and, if a promise from Pete Mitchell was worth a damn, the last night before he’d try to get clean and make it stick this time. 

Then maybe he’d feel safe to admit to himself that he was in love with this man, pulling away so he could dress again and go find oblivion somewhere other than in Tom’s arms. He shivered, cold rushing in to replace Maverick’s warmth. 

“I’m only going to go for a little while,” he promised, rebuilding the Maverick persona around himself, completing it when he pulled on the jacket, “Can I come back here once I’ve shown my face?”

Tom drew the covers up to his chin. Maverick wouldn’t come back. He’d take too much, he’d drink too much, he’d stay awake until the next show chasing down his highs or he’d fall and crash on the bathroom floor of whatever dive bar or den or club lay on that path. Tom would wake up to a cold bed and a frantic search through the city, praying to a god he hadn’t believed in since his bubbie died that it wouldn’t end in a hospital room. 

But if the thought of being able to come home to a warm bed and Tom’s forgiveness would be a comfort to Maverick, if it could be the most distant lighthouse on the furthest shore, he wouldn’t take it away. 

“Of course, baby,” Tom smiled softly, “I’ll be right here.” 

Maverick couldn’t keep the relief from his face, the sign that he was just waiting for the day Tom would say no but was glad it hadn’t come yet. He moved over to the bed and for one, wretched second, hope sparked in Tom’s chest.

But Maverick only caught Tom’s hand, kissing his knuckles, “My Aurora.” His smile was soft and sad, the smile of a man who wanted to do better. Who would, Tom had to believe. 

“My morning sun,” Tom finished, wishing his Maverick was half as reliable. But this was the light he’d chosen for his life. 

After the door had closed, Tom turned onto one side, back to the city lights so they flashed and danced candy colors at the edges of his vision. The way he’d done since he was a small scared child rather than a tall scared adult, Tom hummed to himself as he drifted off, trying to soothe himself into sleep. Babe, I kinda thought that night was gonna last forever…

It was strange to think that the place they could be closest was up on stage. And the place they felt furthest away was behind closed doors. 

Tom Kazansky: Look, about the song Aurora…(pause) One of the things I’ve always loved about writing songs is that you can experience emotions that aren’t necessarily ones you’ve experienced in real life. It’s like putting on a costume, playing a game when you were a kid. You can pretend to be someone who's on top of the world, someone who's lost everything. Or you can be someone who's madly in love. You can try on these different lives. 

So there’s no Aurora in your life right now?

Tom Kazansky: Nope. Just a game of pretend. 

[myheadphonesareneverloudenough]

a little story for my lgbtqia+ allies and questioning queer friends regarding labels...

imagine your personal style. the clothes you wear, the way you style your hair, your accessories or lack there of, etc. sure, it's you, but sometimes you find yourself wondering if theres anything that you can do to make your style more reflect who you are as a person. find something that makes you feel more confident, but you're not exactly sure what yet.

then, you're going about your day, and you see someone you know in a gorgeous blue sweater and you think to yourself, wow they look really good in the colour blue. now, you yourself have never really been the type of person to wear the colour blue, but that person looks really good and you start to think that maybe blue could look good on you, too. so, you go shopping and you find yourself a blue sweater just like that other person. you put it on and look at yourself in the fitting rooms.

huh. it looked a lot better on that person than it does on you. clearly, blue is not your colour, no matter how good someone else looks in it. so you put the blue sweater back and on your way out, a red pair of pants catches your eyes. wow, you think. now those are cool. so, you buy them.

now you're wearing your brand new red pants and you feel amazing. they're just your size, they're made of a super soft material, everything about them suits who you truly know you are. just like that, you start incorporating red into your personal style a lot more because it just feels right. woah, looking back, you never would've guess that you're the kind of person who would wear so much red, but you're happy that you've discovered your love for the colour.

you've been wearing red for a couple of years now. you've graduated school, you're making new friends, life has really taken you on so many journeys. now, as you get home and look in the mirror, the same old red feels a little...wrong? sure, you loved the colour red when you were younger and really thought of yourself as a red person, but now that you've lived a longer life and have gotten to know yourself more, maybe red isn't the colour you want to continue wearing anymore. besides, those pants are getting worn out and all your red tops just aren't flattering anymore. so, you retire your old red clothes and swap them out for some more mature looking clothing.

a purple sweater that your friend is wearing grabs your attention. "hey, that's a really nice sweater," you tell them, "where did you get it?" they tell you the store and you head off to pick up the same purple sweater because you really admired it on your friend and think it'll look good on you, too. you buy it, take it home, and wear it for about a week. when the week is up, you look at it in your closet and think to yourself that, while it was good to try out the purple, it really isn't your colour.

it's going to take a lot of time and effort to find out what style really suits you. but mannequins can only show you so much. sometimes, you have to try on a few things, walk around, and see how they feel. discover how it feels to have your friends see you in your new style, how it feels to look in the mirror in a blue sweater. if it isn't working, you move on and try the next thing. there's no shame in switching aesthetics in your style journey, that's what fitting rooms are for.

okay, now take this story, but instead of clothes we are trying on labels. seeing other trans people can not confirm if you are trans yourself. meeting a gay person will never tell you for sure if you are gay. sometimes, you have to try on a label and walk around to see how it fits before you are able to settle in.

so, to my LGBTQIA+ allies... yes, sometimes we switch our preferred pronouns. yes, within a year we may change the label we choose to put on our orientations. it's all part of the road to self discovery. to my queer friends who are still questioning... take your time. it's a trial and error journey, and it's as simple as trying on some new clothes.

[ataraxetta]

Trying to brute force my way through this years long block and wrote a little Jason and Dick fic. I'm at 6k words but it's not ready for ao3, so just putting this little (very rough) intro here for fun and attention? validation? just because? who knows. I am weak! It's got a tiny bit of nc17 reminiscing, but otherwise safe I think. Jaydick, established-ish relationship (fwb type thing), 800ish words.

-----

Jason is slouched on a broken wooden bench in a private corporate courtyard, sucking aggressively on a milkshake when the deactivated comm in his helmet bursts into sudden, shocking life. 

He startles hard, a closed-mouth gasp dislodging the chunk of strawberry stuck in his straw and sending it rocketing straight into the back of his throat. Barbara tolerantly waits out his violent coughing fit before speaking again. She says, "Hey."

"Jesus Christ, O," Jason swears, voice hoarse and racing heart trying to slow. "Almost shit my fucking pants."

"Sorry," Barbara says, sounding anything but. She makes a noise like she's trying not to laugh. "You okay, there, scooter?"

Jason coughs a bit more and belches painfully, wipes his mouth and re-engages the faceplate of his helmet and says, "blow me," through the voice modulator. Barbara really does laugh this time, and the tension that's been stiffening the line of Jason's shoulders since the moment she contacted him ebbs a little. Oracle doesn't fuck around on the job, so whatever it is she wants to talk to him about must not be that serious. He tosses what's left of his milkshake into a nearby trash can and leans comfortably in the shadow of a 'No Trespassing' sign where the security cameras he disabled point right at him. "So did you need something, or just dropping in to scare the holy ghost out of me?"

"A little of both," she admits. Jason can hear the clack of her keyboard in the background. It's still evening, setting sun painting the horizon a deep pink that's faintly visible under the thick grey Gotham smog. She's suited up early tonight, but so has he, and he doesn't ask. Still typing, she says, "I hear you're teaming up with N tonight."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"A little birdie told me."

"Funny," says Jason, bone dry. Find a Robin, pick it up, all day long you'll have a loud mouth. Barbara sounds entirely too amused with herself, though, so he breathes like Darth Vader through the helmet and grins when she makes a disgusted noise. "But yeah, later. I need his bendy shit for some recon. Why?"

Barbara says, "He's in a mood."

The way she says it like a warning stokes the beginnings of a fire inside him, a burgeoning electric spark lighting him up. Instinct and habit have him scanning the rooftops across the road despite knowing no one will be there. He's glad the helmet masks his too-interested tone when he says, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Just wanted to give you a heads up."

Jason and Barbara aren't super close these days, and she was hard to read even back when he still had all his marbles. He doesn't know how much, if anything, she knows about what he and Dick get up to lately, can't tell from context if this courtesy call is for him specifically or if she's had the same conversation with anyone else planning to cross Nightwing's path tonight. Whatever the case, it's undoubtedly well-intentioned, so he says, "well, thanks," kind of dumbly. The courtyard gate creaks open a couple hundred feet away and he slinks into the shadows. "I've gotta go do a thing. Stop fucking with my comms."

"Sure," she tells him. "Good luck with your thing."

"Yeah."

She clicks off. Jason turns off his comm again.

*

A few hours later, exactly on time, Dick comes to a light-footed landing on a warehouse roof a few feet away from him. His hair is exceptionally tousled, his eyebrows exceptionally expressive, his Nightwing getup exceptionally tight. Smiling, he tilts his head and puts his hands on his hips and says, "Knew I'd find you here."

"I literally told you to meet me here," Jason points out.

Dick ignores him. He stretches out his shoulders and arms, touches his toes and straightens, bends back until his hands touch the roof, hefts himself up onto them, turns in a circle on his palms and tips backwards until his feet touch down, then straightens again. Loose, he tosses Jason another grin. "Ready?"

Jason’s brain stutters a little. The last time they fooled around, less than a week ago, Dick had shoved him against a wall with a grin on his face just like this one and climbed him like a tree, rode him rough, slutty, shameless, and so good Jason shot off like a rocket inside him. Then he'd turned Jason around and fucked between his thighs and jizzed all over Jason's balls and cock and a little bit on the pristine white wall of his pristine white living room in his pristine white apartment. 

Jason says, "Ready."

tbc

[melanieph321]

Facundo Pellistri - Strike Again Chapter 8

Summary - The summer slowly passes and Pellistri returns to school, but things aren't same as before. He is still grieving the death of his father and struggles to fit in with his peers and football…football is the last thing on his mind during this time.

Enjoy!

Homework. Normal people did homework, however nothing about Pellistri's life was normal anymore, the knock he heard on the door confirmed that. 

Pellistri groaned, knowing that it was probably Dirk Willy again. He slowly got up from his desk and made his way downstairs, dreading what he might have to deal with.

When he opened the door, he was greeted by Dirk's smiling face. "Hey, Pellistri"

"Hi Dirk." Pellistri replied curtly. "Can I help you with something?"

"No. But can I borrow a saw? I'm building a birdhouse for the apple tree in my garden."

Pellistri sighed inwardly. He had no doubt that Dirk could have asked one of his other neighbors if they could help him, but for some reason, he always seemed to choose Pellistri. As if his suffering wasn't at an all time high already.

"I'm kind of busy right now," Pellistri said, trying to gently let Dirk down. "Maybe you could ask someone else?"

"It'll only take a minute! I promise!" 

Pellistri's patience was wearing thin, today was not the day. He really wasn't in the mood."Look, Dirk," he said firmly. "I really don't have time to help you with your birdhouse. Can you please just go away?" But Dirk just stood there, looking at Pellistri. "You don't want to help me?" 

"No!" Pellistri exclaimed, ready to slam the door in Dirks face, hopefully hitting him with it.

"No?" Dirk looked to ponder his words. He shrugged his shoulders. "I'll go ask Gracie then. She's my friend."

"But I thought we were friends. Friends help each other, no?"

"No Dirk, we are not friends and we will never be friends."

Pellistri's anger boiled over. He had had enough of Dirk's constant demands and manipulation. Without thinking, he pushed Dirk, hard, sending him stumbling backwards.

For a moment, Pellistri felt a rush of satisfaction. Finally, he had stood up to Dirk and asserted himself. But then, he saw the look of shock and hurt on Dirk's face, and he knew he had made a terrible mistake.

"Dirk, I'm so sorry," he kneeled down beside him.

Dirk wore glasses. They were tossed aside somewhere, leaving a red mark across the bridge of Dirks nose. 

"I'm sorry." Pellstir repeated. He really was, but it was too late, the damage was done. 

He helped Dirk off the ground, brushing off the dust from his pants.

"I'm so sorry, okay?"

Dirk nodded, his expression slightly diffused, like a child, shocked by a sudden noise. "It's okay, I forgive you."

It was either those words or just the sight of the swelling under Dirks left eye that left Pellstri trembling all over. He lowered his head to the ground. The tears falling straight to the bed of leaves below their feet. He stumbled forwards, knocking his head against Dirks scrawny torso. He flinched when his arms came up to embrace him, Dirk Willy, embracing Pellistri. 

It was nice. Pellistri hesitated at first but eventually let his arms slip around Dirks body, hugging him back.

(Read full chapter by clicking link below.)

https://neobook.org/edit/chapter/PZ5UAcIj/