#shoppers choice

[eli-am-confused]

I found out some tragic news on Tumblr recently. So now the President is crying.

Picture one

Howard: Eddie, is it true? Did the chicken that crossed the road really die?

Picture two

Eddie: God damn it

Picture three

Blessed silence

Picture four

Eddie: ok maggots. Which one of you little shits told Howie that the chicken who crossed the road died?

Picture five

Ed: the chicken is WHAT?

Curt shopper: oh ed

Bailey: look what you’ve done Eddie! I hope you’re proud!

Picture six

Eddie: fuck… I should’ve never come back to Hatchetfield.

[theehorsepusssy]

why do you seem like you are always at a different job? what happens? you quit or get fired?

I've only had maybe 7 or 8 jobs in my life. Only been fired once. I tell a lot of stories but they are all out of sequence so maybe why the confusion. I used to work part time at target because I needed a part time job to qualify for Medicaid. Now I'm getting booted off because I have a real job and have to pay for insurance.

[wellnesscard]

stumbled across the tiktok term "ingredients household" the other day. everything coming from that app makes me go insane. food is ingredients is ingredients is food the fuck do you mean. and i did look it up dont try to explain it i looked it up alr chill. im just venting here bc i think its stupid, nonsensical, and basically just means low/minimally processed so like. how are you gonna look at for example what i packed for lunch today and not see food in front of your fucking eyes. idk. yall are too much. whats actually not a real food is these "snacks" made in some factory providing you all the nutritional value of sand off the beach.

[theafrochick]

Unsure if it's low empathy or low emotional intelligence.

[reserwrekt]

Poor people are allowed to buy things that make them feel good. There's no reason to make someone already struggling, feel fucking guilty for enjoying a steak or something is2g

[silkentine]

All I could think while drawing Nami was, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?” And, of course, with Robin I was thinking, “save a horse… 🥵”

Design Notes and other opining below the cut:

For Nami, I wanted to go for a mix of cocky Jersey mafia newbie and surfer boy. I like to think that some of the horrendous outfit choices that Sanji makes (especially in the movies) were actually picked out by Nami. She’s the shopper!!! But yeah, the vibrant swim trunks and graphic tees just scream Nami. I also wanted to put him in a wetsuit/rash guard because I think that’s a sexy look so sue me if you hate it. You cannot argue with me that Nami doesn’t wear swimsuits as clothes.

He’s toned but not as muscular as Robin or Luffy (for example) because he isn’t a front-line fighter, I want him to maintain the same kind of role that Nami has in the animanga. He’s the best navigator in the world!! I couldn’t decide if I wanted to change the violent tendencies that Nami has, but ultimately I think he’d still give the more deserving members of the crew a healthy wallop (although I might portray it more cartoonishly). Boy Piece!Nami still grew up under Arlong’s authority so he spent a lot of his childhood walking on eggshells to protect his village and his brother, Nojiko, so I think he never really got to learn “you’re not supposed to hit people just because they frustrate you” lesson. I gave him a shark-tooth necklace because surely Arlong had a few loose teeth to spare once Luffy took her down. Victory spoils LOL

If he can get the girls to stop wrestling and sit down quietly for a while, he likes to host card games (with betting, of course) or watch the clouds while sipping whatever fruity cocktail Sanji whips up. I believe that Canon!Nami is a total lesbian, and I can’t possibly envision a Nami who doesn’t like women so Boy Piece!Nami is bi. I am, of course, a Namivivi truther and Vivi is also a man in this AU. I don’t hate Sanami within this dynamic though… lots to think about.

Okay!!! All-shipper mindset aside, let’s talk Robin. I gave him long hair because 1) it’s hot and 2) I think it makes him look like Dragon. Yeahhh, I subscribe to the Luffy and Robin are half-siblings theory because I think it’s funny and makes some sense. Crocodile is 100% Luffy’s Mom in this AU and I think Robin knows it LOL

For his outfits, I wanted to lean a bit more Indiana Jones where I could; he’s still primarily cowboy inspired though. For the main look, I went with the Skypeia color palette hehe, I think Robin looks good in yellow. I did some flower-petal shaped color blocking on his chaps because I think it’s cute and subtle. I really love that the powers of the Hana-Hana-no-mi are like… unexpected for a “flower flower” fruit and I think Robin would be more aware that juxtaposition as a guy. You might also be wondering about the gloves and I initially just had it for his cowboy look but I decided to put them on all the outfits up until the events of Enies Lobby. Canon!Robin has a really difficult childhood and I think it’s exacerbated by the fact that she’s a girl on her own. If Robin was a boy, he’d probably have an easier time living on his own but would be a lot less emotionally open. All of these elements combine to make him want that physical barrier between his real hands and the world. Once he can trust that the Strawhats will always be there for him, he’s more willing to be more physically open.

I also think it’d be cute if he was much more of a coffee drinker :3c I see Canon!Robin as a connoisseur who likes a well-brewed espresso but Boy Piece!Robin needs a cup of joe (no matter its quality) every chance he can get. So I drew him with his special #1 ARCHAEOLOGIST mug.

It would make me so happy if you left your thoughts in the tags or replies!! Even if you hate everything about them, I just really like engagement hahaha. I’m thinking girl Usopp is next despite the poll results because she’s on my mind rn (don’t hold me to this, LOL I’m fickle). I’m making these for fun so I just wanna make designs in the order that interests me the most. Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog to see all the genderbends I have so far. And happy pride!!!

[toytle]

everything abt this is outdated but ykw. tag yourself anyway, i’m jean and fred

text ID under cut:

lasik (scott): 1) gifted kid burnout + eldest sibling syndrome 2) leader by choice(..?) 3) “this is fine.”

mom jeans (jean): 1) leader but not by choice 2) never forgets a birthday 3) gets away with things due to her reputation

fuzzy elf (kurt): 1) tries to be hip with the kids (is a kid) 2) honorary catboy 3) fingerguns his way out of situations

:3 (kitty): 1) impulsive shopper 2) livetweets everything 3) says ‘omg’ and ‘ttyl’ outloud 4) bakes muffins for her friends! they are inedible!

skater boi (evan): 1) cool guy syndrome ��� (undiagnosed adhd) 2) steals food off his friends' plates 3) PARKOUR!

e-girl blueprint (rogue): 1) hopeless romantic 2) only child AND middle child energy 3) knows the best thrifting spots

“””team leader””” (lance): 1) tries a lot, fails a lot 2) anger is default emotion 3) probably named his car betty or smth

actual team leader (pietro). 1) cool guy syndrome 😎 (unmedicated adhd) 2) causes problems on purpose 3) motivated by attention

toad (todd): 1) thinks he's just soo funny. well, he is. 2) hasn't showered in a month 3) stays out of drama but Will grab the popcorn

bombshell blonde (tabitha): 1) self-loathing vs superiority complex: fight! 2) flirts with friends 3) parties to avoid being alone with her thoughts

scarlet bitch (wanda): 1) hates authority figures 2) cuts her own hair. and clothes. 3) in a constant state of overstimulation 4) deserves to snap tbh

hey it’s (fred)!: 1) cries easily 2) would literally murder for friends 3) treats plushies like living creatures

professor clean (xavier): 1) “hello el gee bee tee que community" 2) adopts every child he sees 3) knows everything and yet nothing at all

grrrr (logan): 1) that sounds like a you problem." 2) acts like he hates kids but tacks their drawings to the fridge 3) believes that violence is the answer

weather report (ororo): 1) everyone's bisexual awakening 2) has high expectations for everyone, including herself 3) live laugh love 😊😊😊 or else

mr beast but like actually (hank): 1) god, i could really use a drink." *makes chamomile tea* 2) longs to be a smooth rock basking in the sun 3) gives unwarranted life lessons

another blue one (mystique): 1) #girlboss 2) “gay rights but only for me" 3) loves her son but will dropkick other children

magnum dong (magneto): 1) heterophobic 2) "you have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair" 3) does not love his son AND will dropkick other children

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART ELEVEN

pirate poly!141 x reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, mentions of death, angst, lore!!!, a bit of realizing feelings masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion.

The mystery man was petrifying, what with his grimy smile and darkened eyes burning with a thousand fires that longed for fear and destruction. The mere sight of him had your body freezing, stopping you from walking with Ghost.

Ghost was quick to notice. He paused his steps, halfway turning to you. He took in the sight of you, stiff and paralyzed, before shifting his focus to the cause.

You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. You felt trapped. Under a spell. Even as the man was beginning to disappear into the bustle of people, the smile never vanishing from his face, you were captivated, yet in the most sickening way.

“Dove,” Ghost called out. His voice was rough, and perhaps a bit frantic. “Let’s go.”

Just as you were able to turn your attention back to Ghost, his hand snatched up your arm, pulling you along the curvy paths. His pace was hard to keep up with, and you stumbled for your footing several times, yet he didn’t seem to care.

He had hatred practically oozing out of him like poison. It fermented the air, souring your nose with a sickly pit forming in your stomach.

“Ghost,” you tried. “Ghost, who—goodness, will you slow down? Who was that?”

Ghost paid you no mind. He was blatantly ignoring you, but for what? That man with the wicked smile… did Ghost know him?

Dust kicked up at your feet as your sped walked along his side. His grip never faltered, only tightening every time a shopper passed by too close to you. The muscles in your arm throb, and you could feel the blood pumping.

“Ghost,” you pleaded. Ghost merely glanced at you from the corner of his eye before shaking his head and resuming focus on his mission.

You didn’t know where the two of you were going, or why he was so put-off, but it made sense once you began to approach the clearing where you and the crew split to do your individual purchases.

You were heading back to the ship. The sun wasn’t quite sitting along the horizon, so you weren’t even sure the others had returned.

Something twisted within you, like a knot tightening. That sickly feeling only grew the closer you got to the ship.

Something was terribly wrong. As always, you were left in the dark.

“Up,” Ghost ordered, hands cupped together and lowered to your level. You stared at him as if he’s grown two heads. He grew impatient rather quickly. “I said up, damn it, don’t you listen?”

The plank to walk up to the deck hadn’t been lowered, and that was all because Ghost hadn’t taken the time to do it. He seemed to deem it unnecessary, as now he was attempting to haul you up on to the deck himself.

Reluctantly, you placed a foot into his hands. He immediately grabbed hold, hoisting you with a firm grip on both your foot and calf. You clumsily clawed on to the upper deck of the ship, pulling yourself into standing position on wobbly knees.

Ghost was quick to join, not even breaking a sweat as he grasped the sides of the deck and joined you, only letting out an annoyed grunt as his form of struggle.

"Get into Price's quarters," he commanded, lightly giving a shove to your shoulder to beckon you to the Captain's doors.

His body was stiff, standing monstrous and frightening over you. The only other time you'd seem him so coiled up was when him and the others slaughtered your town, when he appeared from the shadows like the boogeyman and sucked up all the souls of the village.

When you looked into his eyes, they were as pitch black as the night. You could hardly see the whites in them from how much anger pooled over.

This wasn't the man who had slowly but surely made attempts to open up in his own way.

Opening up is an overreaction, but it was his way.

Slow and steady.

Now, he was back to his former shell, the one you feared meeting again since the very first day you met.

You were quick to scramble to Price's quarters, slamming the door behind you. The air was eerily quiet now that you were alone, and it prick your ears like an aggravating fly buzzing at your head.

Fear crept inside of you like an incoming storm.

To see Ghost so serious when the past few interactions, he's been rather pleasant was worrying. He didn't answer your questions, nor did he seem to want to acknowledge them.

You knew it had to do with the man you saw. All mighty and erotic, with the smile of a demon. It'd be something that would surely haunt you in your nightmares.

Something about him was odd. You couldn't pinpoint it. It wasn't only the creepiness he exuded, but rather the way he appeared. Out of thin air, like a ghost. And he spoke to you.

I'll be seeing you, dove.

Your blood ran cold as you played back his voice, over and over. Taunting. Mocking. Yet, hypnotizing.

What was a boisterous day with you leaving the ship and becoming apart of the people of normalcy was stripped from you once again.

The only thing that broke the deafening silence was the distinct sound of a bell, the piercing ringing traveling through the cracks in the wood and filling the air around you.

It was Ghost. And he was alerting the Captain that something truly was terribly wrong.

For a while, it was radio silence. Ghost remained outside, while you stayed locked into Price’s quarters, forced to remain trapped in your mind, sifting through what could possibly be happening.

You tried to connect dots. It was clear to you the man you saw wasn’t of the normal crowd. He was an oddity, something that stuck out yet wanted to be hidden.

Ghost knew him. His instinct reaction was to flee, bringing you in the mess. Sure, the man was unsettling, but what about him had Ghost of all people running?

Or perhaps he fled because he wanted to protect you. Even thinking of that scenario filled you with doubt, because it didn’t seem like a him thing to do, but you couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d drag you along the way he did. Frantic, and angry.

It didn’t matter how confusing the bigger picture was. Ghost had a well enough reaction for you to assume that whoever you saw was dangerous.

You wanted to rip your hair out from how little you knew. The Captain held you back from finding out, yet now, it felt important to know more than ever.

Damn him.

Damn this ship.

Damn being left in the dark.

It was unfair. You feared for your life. And worst of all, you feared for their lives as well.

You wondered if they felt the same. As ridiculous as the feeling was, in this time of terror and uncertainty, you wondered if things were to go down, if you were to fall trap into something you’re not supposed to, if they would care enough to pull you out themselves.

Stupid.

Just as you got too wrapped up in your own negativity, you heard voices outside the door. Familiar ones, and they sounded serious.

Between the cracks of the wood and the little soundproof the walls offered, you could faintly hear it.

“It was Graves. I swear it, Cap.”

Ghost. His voice was no longer littered with shock and panic. It was lower, laced with venomous anger.

Graves? You’d never heard that name before, and you could only assume it was the man you saw before. The name was rather fitting. Riddled with something ominous.

The door to the quarters barged open, slamming against the wall. In front stood the Captain, hand still firmly pressed to the door, eyes quickly darting around the room until they landed on you.

“Dove,” Price breathed.

He hurried up to you before you could give it a second thought. His hands grasped everywhere he could, pulling your arms straight out to inspect them, rough fingertips running along your skin. Then they moved to your neck, tilting your head side to side.

His eyebrows were knitted together with concern as well as concentration. But his eyes spoke for themselves. Enraged, just as Ghost. Burning embers broiling into a forest fire.

“Are ye okay, dove?” Soap asked. When you looked at him, he was standing cautiously behind the Captain, eyes flickering over your exposed skin as Price studied it.

“Yes?” you replied, unsure. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Price paused, glancing up at you. He seemed to realize something before dropping your arms, letting them fall back to your side.

“Price?” you asked. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“It’s nothin’,” he grunted, looking away. He stepped away from you, clearing his throat. “We heard the bell. Thought somethin’ happened—”

“No,” you cut him off firmly. You were growing tired of the games, tired of the tiptoeing. Even now, when they thought you were in danger, or even hurt, Price was actively trying to avoid telling you the truth. “There’s more. You’re lying to me again.”

“Dove—” Price attempted.

“Who is Graves?” you ordered. “I saw him. Earlier, in the town. He whispered to me. Who is he, Price?”

Soap and Gaz shared a look of concern before glancing over at Ghost. Ghost shifted uncomfortably, avoiding their gazes.

You hated this. You knew something was wrong, and all of it ended back to Ghost. It was him, wasn’t it? He was the one causing this distress without realizing. He was the one being distressed.

“You asked if I would trust you, and I agreed,” you continued, staring down the Captain. He was stiff, unsure of his next move. His eyes bore into you. “But you are toying with me and I will have it no longer. This is not trust. If you do not tell me what’s been going on, I will leave the ship and you will never see me again. None of you will stop me.”

Your words seemed to hurt the people you weren’t intending on hurting.

Soap’s eyes told you everything you needed to know, brimming over with surprise from your boldness and an aching sadness from your reality.

Gaz was glaring daggers into the back of the Captain’s head, more frustrated than upset.

“Just tell her, will you?” Gaz said coldly. “You’re playin’ hopscotch with her feelings. Both of you. She deserves to know.”

Your eyes flickered over to Ghost, who winced at the comment. He was just as fault for hiding the truth as Price was. All of them were. But at least Gaz was sticking up for you in the end of it.

“That’s Ghost’s decision,” Price grumbled, scowling.

“Bullshit,” Gaz retorted. “It stopped bein’ his decision when we became a crew. She’s apart of it now, whether any of us wanted that or not. For God’s sake, tell her.”

“And risk puttin’ her in danger? You want that?” Price hissed, anger bubbling more rapidly.

Gaz sneered at Price, matching his emotions. He stepped up to him, pressing an accusing finger into the Captain’s chest. “She saw him. He spoke to her. That’s enough to assume she already is.”

“Danger?” you asked. The two of them whipped their heads in your direction, realizing their mistake.

Your fear from before returned tenfold. Your life seemed like it was bound to an unbreakable contract of deception and betrayal.

“What did he tell ye, dove?” Soap asked, breaking the tense silence that filled the air. “Word for word.”

You wrung your hands together anxiously, picking at the skin around your nails. All men held a different form of expression in their eyes, yet they all held their breath all the same.

“He said he’d be seeing me,” you explained, a tight knot in your throat. “He didn’t exactly… tell me, I mean, I was with Ghost the whole time. It was more like a whisper. From afar.”

The looks on their faces had you wanting to coil back into your skin. It was looks of perplexity, of realization, of worry. You had nothing to be worried about, right?

“What the hell does he mean by that?” Ghost roared, the tension in the room thickening. He seemed visibly angry, even under his mask. His body language was surely enough to read. “What, he’s goin’ after her now?”

“What?” you breathed, hands becoming clammy. “Who?”

“Graves, damn it,” Ghost hissed, shoulders tightening. His voice was rough, spitting out pure venom. “The black blood? The mask? The skulls? All him, dove.”

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. Your head felt like it was going to explode. They were explaining, but not getting anywhere with it. None of it made sense.

“He’s Ghost’s old captain before he found Price,” Soap explained, a sadness to his tone. His expression was solemn as he looked at Ghost. “He has Ghost on a leash. Even now.”

“A leash,” Ghost laughed mockingly, sharp and bitter. “That fuckin’ traitor has me marked. That’s worse than a damn leash.”

Soap winced, appearing guilty for even mentioning it. Yet, Ghost was so occupied in his own misfortunes that he failed to notice.

You stared at Ghost while he spoke. The skull mask stood steady on his face, hiding how he truly felt beneath. His eyes were a world of hurt, giving you the only gateway into his mind.

You weren’t sure what marked had to do with him, but judging from old tales you’d heard as a kid, you knew it wasn’t good.

He was a target. Whoever Graves was, his old captain, he had a vendetta against Ghost. Now that the old can of worms was opened, part of you wanted to shut it back up.

This is what you asked for. You wanted open honesty. You just didn’t know that learning about the very men who changed your life for better and worse would hurt so dearly.

“Marked?” you asked. The skull ring on his finger glinted tauntingly at you. “What do you mean, marked? How does that explain anything?”

Ghost went silent, as did the men beside him.

Price, calmer now and looking much more defeated than anything, gave you a sad smile. “He has the marking for the curse of death, dove,” he said quietly. “We can only hope that you don’t, too.”

a/n: a bit shorter than i’d like, but i have some things going on. i hope you enjoyed regardless and as always i’d love to hear your theories!!!

[shopperschoice]

Must-Have Essentials That Every Women Should Have In Her Wardrobe

Hello Women! Are you planning to change or revamp your closet? No matter how much you buy, you will always feel incomplete. But in reality, it is not just about fewer clothes in the cupboard – in fact, it is about some missing essentials. The hottest trends are coming up every day! It is common for every woman to have the urge to shop so that they be updated with current fashion. But do you know some fashion items are always evergreen? Yes, some women’s essentials have been used for years without any change. 

It is a must for every woman to have some bare essentials in their closet despite changing fashion. But what are they? Stock up your wardrobe with must-have wardrobe basics for women:

Blue denim: A woman must have a pair of blue denim in her wardrobe. Well-fitted denim can be worn on any top, such as a shirt, t-shirt or even a Kurti. This piece of bottom elongates the legs visually and accentuates the hips. Prefer taking a dark shade as it will also make your leg look skinny. Plus, an added advantage of having a pair of denim is that you can accessorise with anything.

Trouser: Are you a working lady? If yes, then you must have basic relaxed trousers in your closet. Ankle length or flair bottoms are completely your choices. These formal pants can be your everyday go-to office outfit. It can be paired with a shirt, t-shirt, blazer, cardigan and so on. Moreover, the stretchable material of the pant gives you the liberty to move the way you like. Navy, black, brown and beige are some basic colours that you should definitely go for.

Legging: Legging is another name for comfort. Be it a workout, going to the office or lounging all day at home – a legging can be your companion in every situation! Furthermore, these bottoms are so versatile that you have a legging for every purpose. This casual outfit is both formal and informal. We recommend you to have this work-friendly and trendy legwear as it shall never go out of fashion.

Kurti: Not many women wear Kurtis – but still, you should have at least one. Wearing a Kurti once in a while will give you that different vibe. Not just this, owning a Kurti comes with other benefits too. Imagine rushing to the grocery store urgently; a Kurti can be at the rescue in such situations. Just tie your hair up and pair any bottoms down – ta-da! You are all set to go!

Nightwear: What comforts you after a long hectic day? It is nightwear! In a literal sense, it gives you freedom from the sophisticated fitted clothes. A night dress, nighty or gown is what every woman must have. How about a kaftan? That is even more breathable, airy and easy to wear. So, ladies, revamp your closet with some amazing nightwear so you can enjoy sleeping peacefully.

Handbag: Imagine yourself wearing your dress, footwear, accessories and hair all done for a friend’s reunion. What is missing? Taken your mobile…housekeys…? Still, something is left – and that is a handbag. Every woman should have at least one handbag so that she can carry all her essentials such as keys, mobile, tissue, lip balms and other hygiene materials in it. Handbags for women are very essential! Whenever you buy, just ensure that you take one of a minimal size that has enough space to fit all your important things.

Wallet: You just can’t be throwing all your cards and money straight into a handbag. Neither you can keep that handy. Thus, wallets for women are extremely vital! Coins, cash and cards need to have a designated space – and a wallet fulfils that. So, ladies when you revamp your wardrobe, don’t forget to add a wallet to your cart.

Sneakers: Comfortable footwear can take you anywhere without being tired. That is what a pair of sneakers do. Apart from having other footwear such as sandals and slippers – a sneaker is a must to add to the closet as it is not just comfortable but also versatile. In short, it can be worn in any attire. Additionally, sneakers are also mandated for a workout. Hence, you should have one! 

Heels: Another footwear that is very important is heels. You can’t wear a sneaker, slippers or any other footwear to a party or a date evening. Heels add charm and elegance to the personality of an individual. Though it is occasional wear, but every woman should buy at least one.

T-shirt and joggers: What is your holiday outfit? Something that keeps you relaxed while lounging in the house. It is a t-shirt and joggers! These pieces of clothing are the ultimate wear in which one can stay all day. Cooking, cleaning, laundry – no matter what household activity you do, a t-shirt and a jogger makes it really easy.

Is your wardrobe missing any of these items? If yes, then hurry and update it as soon as possible. Visit the online store of Shoppers Choice UAE and get some amazing women’s essentials there. Shoppers Choice is a trusted brand with top-quality products that are available at affordable costs. You can get T-shirts, pants, slings, wallets, dresses, nightwear and Kurti online in UAE from this shop. The quick delivery makes the online shopping experience for women wonderful and fantastic for all. So, buy you essentials from this store today!

SOURCE LINK

[charlesxavierthirster3000]

Denim — C. Xavier

Pairing: 60s (First Class)!Charles Xavier x GN!Reader

Summary: Charles takes you out, but you're quite the fussy shopper. (Pls spare me idk how to write summaries 😥)

CW/Tags: suggestive content, pre-beach divorce Charles, no use of Y/N (there never will be on my blog), don't like don't read.

A/N: Huzzah guys I'm finally writing !!!! This prolly won't get much traction bc it's not Logan but fuck it we ball 🔥🔥 This has been rotting in Docs for like a week and I just finished it like 15 mins ago so here we go.. 😁 Also I wrote this as Fem!Reader in mind but I realised it could be GN so I'll just put it as that :3

WC: 461 / Navigation

Divider credits (They're so cute istg bro) here and here

Charles Xavier was not your sugar daddy. He could believe he was all he wanted, but your very minimal amount of dignity drew the line at that title.

The man could buy you everything you ever even thought of — which was fairly easy, considering his mutation — yet you wouldn't admit it even if you had 8 fully loaded AK-47s pointed at your face.

“Just get it, for God's sake,” Charles drawled, nodding at the pair of mid-blue bootcut jeans you'd been fawning over for what felt like half his lifetime. 

When you give the gorgeous denim another doubtful up-down, he gets up from his concerningly squeaky stool bordering the men’s section and reaches for your wrist.

“It would take immense effort to make me go bankrupt, sweetheart.” He places his credit card in your palm, gently forcing your fingers over it with a short smile. It's not the first time he's done this, and it most definitely won't be the last.

“I have a pair just like thi—” you try to argue weakly, but the gloved hand over your mouth leaves you no choice but to shut your gob. God, this man was direct.

“Uh-uh, not hearing it. We both know exactly how much you want it. End of discussion. Go pay.” 

He carefully nudges you forward in the direction of the distant cashier, but you blatantly refuse to move an inch. He stares incredulously at the back of your head and you have to bite back a laugh beneath the confines of his palm. 

You should’ve expected it, but the British in your brain still catches you by surprise. Damn colonizers.

“Get the damn pants. Your ass would look lovely in them,” he pats your ass with his free hand as punctuation, attempting to urge you forward yet again.

“All you care about is my ass,” you retort mentally.

“Yes and no. It's definitely up there.”

“I'm gonna bite you.”

“Kinky. But keep it in your shorts ‘til we get back, yeah?”

He takes his hand off your face and gets out of your head. You whip your head around to silently complain at him, but he's staring right back at you with a smile that, to the normal person, would look as if he'd done no wrong. But to you, it was only making your situation worse.

The same smile which was pissing you off in ways you didn't even think possible morphs into a genuine laugh delivered softly, and for God's sake, you can't keep your stomach from doing a brief flip at the sound.

“Fine. Pretend you don't want them. But you're going to pay with my card, and I'll show you exactly how much you won't regret buying them when we get back to my office.”

[pregulator]

imagine a dad with a tboy son who has always helped him feel better when he's had periods by letting him rest under a heat pad and freshly dryer-fluffed blankets, brewing hot tea and cocoa for him, bringing him midol and tylenol when he needs it, and taking the time to make him feel affirmed even when the menstruation dysphoria kicks in...

and when he gets older, his sex-positive dad starts encouraging him to consider masturbating, whether he's on his period or not, telling him, "you know, it improves your pelvic health, orgasms are very good for your heart health, it can help you fall asleep, it can provide stress relief," and going on and on about the objective health benefits and how it can put his son in touch with his developing teen body... and, for a while, his son always reacts with embarrassment, saying, "ew! augh, dad, no! that's so gross! yuck, no way!" and his dad drops the topic, for the most part, only bringing it up again on occasion, when it's germane to conversations about sexual health...

and, one day, while picking up a few boxes of tampons at the local walmart, dad takes his son on a little detour through the pharmacy aisles and shows him a selection of vibrating dildos... and his son goes red in the face and won't stop looking around, up and down the aisle, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and holding it to keep his face hidden from other shoppers while his dad keeps telling him, in such a matter-of-fact tone, "actually, penetrative masturbation with toys like these is excellent for soothing menstrual cramps," all while his son keeps whispering for his dad to put each toy back as he grabs them off the display hooks to look at the product details on the back sides of the packaging... and, despite his son's protesting and embarrassment, dad puts a small bullet vibrator and a modest six-inch vibrating dildo toy into the shopping basket before walking to the express checkout lane, telling his son he's getting them "just in case you ever want to use them..."

and then dad starts letting himself out of the house a little more often, hoping to give his son at least a couple hours of alone time every once in a while so that he can give it an earnest try, especially since having stored the vibrators in the bathroom, where they're just as innocuous and easy-to-find as the hairbrushes or the toothpaste... and his son does give it a try, sometimes using the bullet vibrator on himself before taking a shower, only to frantically clean and dry it before putting it back, perfectly in its place... until, one day, he takes it to his bedroom and uses it to bring himself to his first real orgasm, which quickly puts him to sleep...

and then his dad comes home that afternoon, while his son is still sleeping through his post-orgasm nap... and he goes to the bathroom, curiously checking the drawer to find the little vibrator missing, immediately pleased to know that his son is finally experimenting... and he doesn't do anything or say anything, not wanting to scare his son into retreating and repressing his needs and desires...

and then one day, the forgetful sometimes-presence of the little vibrator in the drawer under the bathroom counter after son's masturbation sessions morphs into a clearly conscious choice to keep it in his room, in the drawer of his bedside nightstand... and dad starts thinking that maybe his son isn't interested in the six inch vibrating dildo, putting it aside somewhere safe to keep it from gathering any dust in the drawer...

and then, during a period, sometime later on, as the months pass, dad looks up from working from home at his laptop while sitting on the couch and notices his son is standing at the doorway of the den with a nervous look on his flushed-red face... and dad asks his son, "kiddo, what's the matter? are you feeling sick?" to which his son replies, asking, "dad, do you know where the, uh, the... the longer vibrator is?" reluctantly and quietly... and dad sets his work aside, telling him, "of course," and then, speculatively, "are you having some bad period cramps?" with his son nodding slowly in response... so dad fetches the vibrating dildo for him and offers to show him how to use it, but his son is far too embarrassed, already, and shuts his bedroom door before his daddy can ask again...

and then his son finally starts hormone replacement therapy, spreading t-gel on his arms once a week... (dad had offered to help him with shots, since needles had always intimidated him, but he wants to do it himself)... and, as son's changes begin to develop, dad notices he spends a lot more time to himself in his room... and that's when dad starts checking in on his son, knocking on his closed bedroom door a few times before opening it, always accidentally walking in on him in the middle of masturbating, always backing out and closing the door when his son yells, "augh, dad! don't come in here! leave me alone! i just want to be by myself right now!" while the telltale hum of a muffled vibrator is going off against his pussy from under the covers...

and then, one day, dad is working at the kitchen table when his son comes in and sits down with a snack, slowly eating it like he's simply killing time while he watches his dad dutifully type away on the keyboard of his laptop and read over a packet of papers... and, when his dad realizes his son has lingered there long after he's finished snacking, he looks up from his work and asks, "what's up, kiddo?" only for his son to go red in the face and clear his throat a little, trying to act natural... and then his son says, "the... uh... big vibrator stopped working," furiously blushing, at this point... and then his dad says, "oh no... sorry to hear that, bud... maybe i can pick one up the next time i go out, does that sound like a plan?" but, despite the prompt and casual response, his son still looks uncomfortable... and then his son asks, "could... you... help me a little... sooner than that?" to which his dad says, "well, sure, kiddo, but it might have to wait until i'm finished with work for today, is that alright?"

but his son still looks a little uneasy, shifting in the dining room chair, pressing his legs together under the table, then asking, "okay, dad, but... i was... kind of thinking... that maybe you could, uh, show me... something a little more... advanced? or, you know... hands-on?" while looking away from his dad, his eyes darting back and forth between making eye-contact... and his dad seems to think about it, catching his meaning... or, rather, assuming it... replying, to confirm, "you mean... you want to try intercourse?" and, after a long silence, his son, still clearly more embarrassed than he's ever been in his life, slowly nods to answer his dad, looking down at the table and occasionally glancing back up...

and dad takes the time to consider it, despite already knowing his answer... which surprises his son, though not all that much, when he says, "sure, but i'll need you to give me five minutes to wrap up before taking a break... think you can go to your room and get ready for me like you usually get ready on yourself?" and he says it as if it's the most normal thing in the world to be saying, agreeing to a proposition with his trans teen son, but his son hastily nods and gets up from the table, walking to his room, fast, and leaving the door open ajar as he pushes it behind him...

and then dad, true to his word, takes a few minutes to finish his work before shutting the lid of his laptop and getting up to head toward his son's bedroom, slowly pushing the door back open as he enters the threshold, looking down at his son lying down over the covers, his shorts and boxers kicked off and onto the floor, socks still covering his feet, still wearing a t-shirt and hoodie over his torso, his legs pressed together and bent to hide himself, anxiously waiting for his dad... and his dad smiles warmly at him, undoing the fastening on his chinos as he starts to undress, sitting down on the bed next to his son's hot, half-naked body...

and he slowly reaches up to part his son's knees from the side, telling him to "just relax, honey," running his hand up and down the inside of his son's thighs to coax them apart, dipping down into the valley of his legs to gently stroke his son's growing t-dick amidst the lush bush he's grown atop his pubic mound... and dad tells him how good he looks, remarking "oh, look how much hair you've grown down here... and your cock is already getting kind of big."

and dad keeps an eye on his son, who has one hand at his forehead, gripping at his hair, while the other is resting against one side of his chest, groping at himself through the thick fabric of his hoodie... and dad tells him, "feeling okay, kiddo? want to take that sweatshirt off? you're looking a little over-heated," and helps his son sit up in bed to disrobe, the sweatshirt being discarded off the side of the bed, son not even waiting before casting his t-shirt aside, too, totally nude aside from his socks... but dad doesn't need those out of the way, so they can stay on... and, soon, dad returns to rubbing the outside of his son's front hole, venturing to dip a finger inside, which makes his son finally moan nice and long... and dad asks, "does that feel good, bud?" to which his son can hardly respond in words, slowly nodding his head while his eyes drift shut, his breathing growing heavy...

and dad keeps going, gently fingering his son, fingers now slowly pushing in and out, getting him used to the intrusion and the rhythm... after all, even if he had used a dildo many times before, by now, it wasn't as though his hot teen cunt wasn't still young and tight, still getting used to penetration...

and, as dad continues stimulating him, he comments on how wet he is... how engorged his t-dick is... saying, "you've gotten so wet for me, huh? and your cock is even getting hard," to which his son can only moan and whine things like "mm... dad..." and "oh... fuck... dad," between panting breaths... and dad keeps going, his own dick stiffening and tenting in his boxer briefs... until his son's hands find their way to dad's forearm, squeezing it a little... and dad asks, "want to stop, baby?" and his son shakes his head against, looking up at his dad to say, "no... keep going... i... i need you."

and dad, wanting more, asks, "need me how, bud?" and his son bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth before answering, "i... need you inside me..." and his dad's brows raise, dad looking surprised but pleased... and dad asks, to be certain, "you want my cock inside you, kiddo?" and his son nods his head eagerly, his inhibitions lost now as dad gets up from the bed and sheds his underwear, getting back onto the mattress and positioning himself between his son's legs which, right now, are spread open, almost impatiently, as he stares down at his dad's crotch, at the long dick that bounces gently over his thick, swollen balls... and his jaw falls a little, as if the head had hypnotized him...

and his dad chuckles a little, watching his son's lust-addled expression as he grabs hold of his own cock and strokes it, the meatus leaking precum which dribbles down over his dad's knuckles on each downstroke, down onto the cover of his duvet... and then dad lightly pets the insides of his son's thighs again, lowering himself until the head of his cock meets the foreskin-covered head of his son's cock, rubbing himself up and down his slit...

and dad looks at his son's face as his son stares back at him, mouth still hanging open, as he aligns himself with his son's front hole and starts opening him up with his uncovered shaft... and dad's dick feels like it's stuffing him tight... centimeter by centimeter, filling him up full...

and son's hands go to his chest, kneading and squeezing and tugging on himself, breathing hitching as dad bottoms out inside of his cunt... and then dad begins pulling his cock out... slowly... letting his son feel himself empty before easily slipping back in, taking his son's moans as encouragement as he sheaths himself again, fully inside his son's hot cock sleeve of a channel... wet and hot and clenching...

and dad goes slow, at first, like when he's given his son back scratches or shoulder rubs before... and dad cups his son's hip with one hand as he leans forward on the other hand, which is flat against the covers of his boy's bed, the motion of his hips picking up speed the longer he goes, in and out, fucking him... dad is fucking him... and his son moans, loudly, "ohh, fuck, dad!"

and dad can feel his boy's cunt squeezing him, drawing him in, wanting to lock him there each time he thrusts inside, saying, "good job, baby boy... you like taking daddy's cock inside you? okay, kiddo... just relax... just enjoy..." as he thrusts...

and when his bare cock feels his son chasing his own orgasm, he picks up the pace, driving himself harder and faster into his boy's cunt, listening as his moans devolve quickly into unintelligible vocalizations...

and then, suddenly, his son tightens around his cock, the walls of his soaking wet channel spasming around him... and dad can't hold back...

and dad announces, "good boy, you want my cum? baby, do you want my cum inside you, too?" to which his son frantically nods, and dad can feel him grip his cock even harder at that...

always quick to please, he thrusts deep and fast as his son is letting himself be lost in the throes of a hard orgasm, the moans and exclamations tumbling out of his mouth each time he almost ruts against his baby boy's cervix, going, "god! fuck, dad, fuck me! oh god, fuck me! fuck me! fuck me! aah, dad!"

and his dad, determined, lets his hips snap against his son's groin with each thrust inside of him, letting his own orgasm erupt with a grunt, his semen shooting against his son's hot insides, his thrusts fast and pistoning out of time before he simply stops, dad's legs relaxing in the furrow of his son's...

and his son feels the innermost part of himself bathed in his dad's cum... and he shudders, his body trembling already in post-coital bliss...

"oh, dad," he moans, "can we... can we do that again?"

archived on ao3

[tiktaalic]

Girls will be like yeah so basically Taylor swift has eradicated all attempts at creativity in favor of seamlessly merging her IDENTITY to PRODUCT and I will give accolades where accolades are due. She has been very successful at this probably the most successful person on earth at this and all it cost her is her soul. And it DID cost a soul. You could make a graph between amount of streams and quality of work and see so clearly the inverse relationship materialize before your eyes. She was not born a hack but embraced the life of a hack when she realized she would be more popular with platitudes and dialing back on oversharing and being less messy. If you replace personhood with producthood you lose your humanity but your album sales go fuuuucking crazy. I can make overtures at understanding this by reminding myself she was crucified for being a person for years and years and she has been very vocal about it doing a heavy number on her psyche. Maybe when that happens to you as a teenager the trade off seems less revolting. Getting rid of something you’re mocked for having anyway and in return you are richer and more famous than anyone has any right to be. But then I scratch my head. And go but surely you see that this is a deal with the devil. Surely with the contract laid out in front of you. You gnaw your lip. You hesitate. You follow the letter of the law but skirt the spirit of it for brief shining moments. And when she’s so publicly had misogynistic vitriol levied at her. So often for so long. IS it misogynistic for your criticisms to boil down to “she’s not likable enough for me”? At what dollar amount does a millionaire going on billionaire become a public object rather than a person? Does the fact that she’s slowly revoked access to herself change this? Is it more or less human to orchestrate your life so that paparazzi only sees you on planned outings where you look impeccable and have a message to send and you are Taylor Swift The Brand after you’ve been scarred by years of being Taylor swift the young woman in the tail end of the aughts and the 2010s ripped to shreds scrutinized for every choice and smile and dress and man? Is there a passable essay in the title Taylor Swift Doesn’t Owe You Authenticity. Maybe! but doesn’t she as an artist work at a job where she’s supposed to produce. Art? It sounds like I’m asking for ballads but I’m really not I’m asking for a song that is good. Im asking for a cruel summer which is irreplicable but surely the minds behind it can produce something more than snow on the fucking beach? Or am I overestimating the continued talent of a woman who is the platonic ideal of a target shopper? Is it misogynistic to believe the platonic ideal of a target shopper can’t create with a soul? How to talk about the fall off of Taylor swift in a woman honoring way?

five minutes later. You can’t spell awesome without ME!

[emmyrosee]

“How come you get to ride in the cart?” He says, a pout in his voice but a smirk curling at his lips. Your hip cocks up as your arms cross over your chest, more than willing to duke this out with him in the entrance of the store.

“Uh, because I’m adorable?” Your words only make his grin spread even more, he knows he’s supposed to make an argument against that but he can’t bring himself to; it’s true, you’re perfect in every trace of the word.

But who was he to go down without a fight?

“But baaaaabe,” he whines further, folding his torso into the cart. “I’m so sore from practice and ‘Samu hit me with the ball and I’ve been walking funny since, and I just want my perfect, stunning, and oh, so smart-“

“Oh my god, fine, just get in the cart!” You snort, the giggles bubbling from your lips. He merely grins victoriously before scrambling himself up and into the cart, other shoppers watching in annoyance and amusement as you watch his knees fold up to his chest.

“Comfy?” You snort, to which he nods over enthusiastically. You roll your eyes before folding yourself over the front of the cart to plant a kiss on his head.

“What do you even need, anyways?” He hums, his head turning back and forth in the superstore, sharp eyes glazing over the shelves. You lean on the handles of the cart, looking around and making a beeline straight to the snacks, giving him a dramatic sigh as you do so.

“Well,” you hum. “I know you wanted m&m’s and popcorn, but I also wanted to grab a few bags of Doritos and since the fuckface I decided to let spoon me at night ate the last of my cookies,” your eyes glare dead at him, only to be met with a wide, toothy grin. “I need to buy more.”

“The guy who spoons you at night sounds hot.”

“The guy who spoons me at night sounds like I’m going to smother him with a pillow.” With that, you two make your way to the snack aisle, your eyes glazing over the contents of the shelves hungrily. “You want any drinks or anything?”

“Nah, I’ll just take whatever you buy.”

You glare at him, “that’s kinda the reason we’re in here in the first place, you clown.”

He snorts at the nickname before hooking his chin over the side of the cart, his sharp eyes flicking over the colored bottles and cans. “Toss me a grape soda.”

“Grape?”

“Yeah.”

“Mid,” you scoff, grabbing him a can to put in the cart. He blinks unamused at you, but ultimately keeps his mouth shut while you make your choice.

“Oh, but my choice is mid,” he teases as you plop a can of lemon lime in his lap.

“This flavor has been worshipped all over the world- you just like the taste of cough medicine or something.”

“My mom only buys the bubblegum flavored cough medicine.”

“Feral.”

The little back and forth you share passes the time as you turn the cart to the chips and Candy, and without sparing a second, you grab the Doritos and toss them carelessly into the cart, smirking as you hear them crunch against his head and body.

“You know, I may annoy you, but I am still in the cart,” he says, shielding himself from another bag of chips that you swat in the cart. When he turns his head up to glare at you, he sees the goofy smile spread over your cheeks, and he’ll happily get beat up by your snacks if it meant he could see it forever.

It’s simple. It’s comfortable, annoying each other throughout the aisles and laughing when the other makes a stupid jab, but Rintaro knows that this is all he’s worked up for. A domesticity that had to be crafted carefully, and he’s honored that you decided to map it with your love.

It’s nothing all like he’d expected love to be like- and now, it’s love he’d never change for anything.

“Get your cookies and lets get the hell out of here.”

“Why? Afraid we’ll miss another episode that we’ve seen forty-eight thousand times?” You jeer, steering the cart to the back wall, where all the cookies are tucked away. He decides to say nothing, merely letting your own joke make you chuckle.

He says you're easy to sedate like that. Really, he does it because the way you get the last word makes you happy.

He watches your lips pull back into an almost relieved smile, grabbing the box of cookies and nodding happily, all before turning back to him in the cart.

“Now be careful,” you warn, clutching the sweet to your chest protectively. “Suna, I’m trusting you with the most precious cargo in the cart. Do not blow it.”

“God, no need to bring out the government name, just give me the damned cookies,” he scoffs, making grabby hands and rolling his eyes when you hesitate. “And for the record, I’m the most precious cargo in the cart. Don’t even start with me.”

“You’re like. Fifth, on the tier list.”

“I’m going to fart on your pillow. Give me the cookies.”

You do, with another small smirk. "You want anything else, baby?" You ask, though you proceed to the checkout.

"Nah, I think I'm good, booger."

You hum and steer him to the self checkout, letting you bag the snacks while he passes them to you, citing you both as the "dream team"- which briefly collapses when you refuse to take his card to pay for everything and chuckling as he scrambles for the wallet tucked in his back pocket.

"You're annoying," he grumbles at your lack of acceptance for his chivalry.

"And you're squishing my snacks- you trying to sleep on the couch?"

Regardless, you push him out of the store and into the night air, and even if he'd rather chew on glass than admit it, the way your face relaxes at the feeling of fresh air makes him melt, and he smiles dopily until you jerk the cart.

"Okay. Get out."

"Huh?"

For a moment, just a moment, it's possible that Suna Rintaro forgot he's in the cart.

"Get out. I'm not wheeling you home, babe."

He sends you a playful glare before using massive hands to grip the side of the cart for leverage. He tries to push back, but his legs can't extend much farther out.

At this point, you're just watching, one brow cocked in amusement and tongue licking the corner of your mouth victoriously. If you didn't look so hot, Rintaro would be furious.

“Babe?”

“What's up, player?"

There’s a silence between you both. You're the absolute worst in this situation by barely even acknowledging his struggle. his lanky frame, still in the wired shopping cart, looks so cramped, and maybe, just maybe, if one of the Gods loved him, they would smite him down from the face of the earth right now.

You smirk, “problems?"

"I'm gonna cheat on you with Kita-San."

"Like he'll he's gonna want you when you're stuck in a cart you begged to be in."

He gnaws at his lip in focus, trying to will his knees to unbuckle from their position and out of the cart.

But they refuse.

He whimpers in his throat while you point and finally cackle at him, loudly, rudely, being absolutely no help in this scenario, and he finally hides his face in his bent knees in embarrassment.

“I’m stuck in the cart.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 1

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You always felt small. Shelves, table, counters, even chairs made your shortcoming, pun intended, more obvious. Even at the one time in your life when you should feel big, you feel even tinier. 

The rounder your stomach becomes, the smaller the rest of your seems. It really doesn't feel like a part of you. That life inside you that has your shirts tighter by the say and the elastic stretching further and further.  

Swollen feet, hands, and chest, and yet you're still just a speck of dust in the wind. The grocery store so often adds to that sensation of insignificance. The cart rattles over the tile as you weave between other shoppers, veering out of the way as others turn corners without looking. Your progress down the list of needs is slower than usual but you're persistent. 

You stop in the bread section and peruse the assortment of rye and sourdough. You've been craving pumpernickel forever. You pick out a loaf and check your list. Bread crumbs... 

You spot your quarry and reach for the highest shelf. Of course it has to be all the way up there. You grunt and teeter on your toes, your goal made hard as your stomach keeps you from getting very close. 

“Allow me, sweetness,” a man says as he comes up behind you. 

You squeak in surprise as he crowds you and reaches up to grab the canister of crumbs. As he does, he presses himself to you, a none-too-subtle grind of his pelvis against your ass. You gasp and elbow him. 

“Ew, get off,” you squeal. 

“Now, now, honey buns, I got it,” he offers the canister, his arm hooking around to show the crumbs, “you just gotta say please.” 

“What the heck? Can you back up--” 

“Now, that’s not very polite, baby girl,” he shakes the crumbs and moves them away from your grasp as you try to snatch them. 

“I said back--” 

Your voice evaporates in shock and horror as he slaps your ass. You clutch the shelf and brace yourself as the force nearly has you crashing into the metal. You set your feet, regretting your choice of squishy and treadless slides, and he snakes his hand under your dress, trailing along the scalloped edge of your panties. 

“Stop,” you wisp, terrified at this man’s brazenness. Why is he doing this? How is no one else seeing this? 

His hand curls around and he stops as he touches your lower stomach. He hesitates and stretches his fingers over your bump. You’re only four-months but far enough that it’s obvious. 

“Shit,” he chortles and pushes his hand down, pressing against the front of your cotton panties, “someone beat me to it, huh?” 

He pokes the fabric between your folds with two fingers, wiggling them around. You shudder and squeeze the edge of the shelves. He creases the cotton between his fingers and pulls it aside. He pinches your thigh and you whimper as he kicks a foot between yours. 

“What--” you gasp and push back against him, trying to escape. “Please--” 

Your voice cracks and something inside you breaks. You can’t move or make a sound. He touches the tuft of hair along your pelvis and delves nakedly between your folds. You hold your breath as he toys with you, rubbing your clit dryly as he pushes his crotch against your back. 

What’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you doing anything? Why can’t you? 

He just carries on, rolling your bud under his fingers until you feel yourself react. It’s the hormones, not you. You’re scared, not weak. That’s what’s going on. What is going on? 

All at once, he retracts his hand. He leaves you quivering and wet and to your shame, wanting. He snickers again and tosses the canister so it lands in your cart. You cling to the shelves, legs shaking, and stare at the wrapped loaves in stunned silence. You hear him suck loudly on his fingers and hum. 

“Naughty mommy,” he tisks and struts away.  

You can’t move. You’re paralyzed in disbelief. That didn’t just happen. A stranger just touched you. Like that. And you’re wet. You look down as your knees buckle. 

You manage to move away from the shelves and look around. You can’t pick the man out from the scatter of shoppers puttering around like drones. His sleeve was black but half the men their have black jackets. Your lip trembles as your eyes brim with tears. You don’t know what to do. 

You turn to your cart and grab the handle, rolling it forward. Your eyes fall to the white and yellow canister that rolls across the bottom. You stop and skirt around to reach into the basket, looking around before you bend to fish out the bread crumbs. You place them on the table of croissants nearby and push the cart onward. 

You’ll do grilled instead of fried. You never want to think of what happened again. You hope you never see that man again. Would you even know him at a glance? 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Chaos

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: A trip to Sainsbury's

Sainsbury's is a magical place.

It's made even more magical when you go there without Momma and Morsa.

You zoom down the aisles, barely keeping pace with Sam and Guro as Erin runs with the cart. Millie's a few steps behind, taking a video as Erin hits Guro and she falls down like a bowling pin.

You giggle with Sam as Millie howls with laughter as she puts a bunch of cakes into the cart.

"It's not funny!" Guro tries to say but Erin rams the cart into her again and she falls to the ground.

"It's so funny!" Erin insists, finally helping Guro up as Sam brings you over to the section with the squirty cream and milk.

"Hey! How many of these were we supposed to get?"

"Milkshakes!" You exclaim," Can I get a milkshake, Sam?"

Momma never lets you have milkshakes. She says they make you too hyper and she worries that your belly won't like it if you drink too many of them.

"Course! How many do you want? Ooh, there's different flavours."

"One of each!" You exclaim, letting Sam lift you up so you can grab some and sweep them into Erin's cart.

"Perfect choice!"

Your Momma and Morsa told you this morning that everyone was having a little celebration for some staff member's birthday or something so you got to go to the local Sainsbury's to get party food.

"Ooh! Ooh!" Guro says, pointing up at the big pack of caramel trifles on the top shelf. "I think we should get one of them!"

"Why stop at one?" Millie scoffs, pulling out eight. "If we got too much then I'm sure we can all just take some home."

Your legs start to get a bit tired as Sam drags you up and down the aisles ahead of the others so you make the universal sign of pick me up please and end up sitting inside the cart rather than the little seat it came with.

Erin makes race car noises with her mouth as she pushes the cart faster and more recklessly than any of the other shoppers, making sure to ram into Guro at every opportunity.

It makes you giggle hysterically in between ordering Millie to put everything you want into the cart.

She's happy to do as you say and gets very excited when you ask for the popping candy that Momma says will rot your teeth.

"What else do we need?" Erin asks, staring down at the list that they were meant to be sticking to.

The entire cart was filled to the brim with you sitting on top of a box of beers, munching happily at the little cupcake Guro opened for you.

"Think we've got everything," You say, opening your mouth so Millie can pour some milkshake down your throat.

"Did we get ice cream?" Guro asks," Everything's better with ice cream."

"I love ice cream," Sam agrees," They've got cookie dough."

"Let's get ice cream," Millie says.

By the time you've gotten everything into the car, you don't really want to sit in your car seat. Hanging out with the big girls makes you want to be one of them and big girls don't sit in car seats.

"Can she do that?" Guro whispers as you stubbornly stand in front of her, arms crossed over your chest," Not sit in the seat?"

"Er..." Sam says," I'm not sure. I don't think so?"

"Not sitting in it!" You insist, stamping your foot," Not! Not! Not!"

"You're not sitting in it?" Millie asks as she approaches," Are you sure?" She hoists you up and tries to buckle you in while you're distracted but you grab at her arms to stop her.

"No! No! No!"

You kick your feet out, suddenly crashing from your sugar high, as your voice gets higher and more screechy.

"Alright," Millie says, picking you up and sitting you on her lap in the passenger seat and clipping the belt over both of you," This good, kid?"

You think for a moment before turning to look at Erin. "My drinks please," You say, any hint of sadness now gone as you get yourself comfortable on Millie's lap and sip at the drinks your Momma would never let you get.

By the time you get back to the training grounds, Momma and Morsa are waiting outside.

Momma's face goes a little red when Millie lets you out and then Morsa's gets even redder when she watches how much Erin, Guro and Sam unload from the car.

"So..." Millie says," It looks worse than it is."

"You didn't put her in her car seat?!" Pernille demands, holding you close and tucking you into her neck. "You could have crashed! She wasn't wearing a seatbelt!"

"She was wearing a seatbelt!" Millie insists," I'm not completely irresponsible!"

"How much did you buy?" Magda was asking the other three girls," I gave you a list! I specifically remember giving you a list! Do none of you listen to me when I'm not around?"

You've wormed yourself out of Momma's neck as she was yelling and you hold a hand out to Millie. "My milkshake, please."

"You bought her a milkshake?!"

"It was Sam!"