#screwing around with weird colors >>>>>>>

[adeleine-everyday]

day 2

do you ever think about the reason her shoes are "Like That" is to fit in with the rest of the almond-footed cast. she got those shoes specially made to fit in with the rest of the dreamland crew. food for thought.

[da1stninjagofangirl]

I attempted to draw cinder on line paper and casual Wear!!!

@bruh37legolover @nyaskitten @certified-cole-simp @cinderninjago

[swanlakebaby]

— livestream | pjm

prompt: sex w/ jimin during livestream.

⸝⸝ pairing: bf!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: quickie, smut, whispering, risky, creampie, bf jimin, kissing, sneaking around

⸝⸝ word count: 1.3k

⸝⸝ note: n/a

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

-

the door slowly cracks open as you peek your head inside of the room. you see jimin sitting at his desk , staring at the computer screen and chatting to his fans live. he turns around as you fully enter the room.

“oh i didn’t know you were still live.” you say , as you stare at the live chat. “hi guys.” the chat moves quickly , thousands of people typing at once. jimin pats his thigh , wanting you to sit on his lap. you sit in between his thighs as he wraps his arms around you , reading the chat carefully. “ask us some questions guys.” jimin says to the chat. you stare at the screen for a moment , waiting for a good question.

“oooh here’s one,” you point at the screen. “is jimin a good kisser?” you read aloud. jimin giggles nervously , scrolling in the chat. “ask something else.” he says , his face turning a pale pink color. “i haven’t answered yet.” you adjust in his lap , thinking about your answer. “i think our first kiss was quite awkward..he accidentally kissed my chin…but on a regular basis his kisses are amazing.” jimin lets out a laugh , wanting the moment to be over. after a few moments of silence , jimin speaks , “here’s an embarrassing question about you.” jimin says staring hard at the screen. “what would you assume is her favorite kink?”

“absolutely not.” you say , shaking your head and elbowing jimin playfully. he hums , thinking for a moment. “it has to be watching the elderly—“ “stop! that’s not even true.” you whine at jimin as he throws his head back in laughter. “you’re so weird and that sounds like projection if anything.” you say , wrapping your arms around his neck.

you spend the next half hour chatting with the live chat on stream , before eventually leaving jimin to finish off the stream alone. you plop down on the couch , already seeing reposted clips of you and jimin’s bit on the live. after a few more minutes , jimin comes out into the living room. “oh are you done?” you ask him , checking the time. he shakes his head no and grabs a cold water bottle from the fridge , screwing off the top and guzzling down water.

when he finishes he looks over at you and throws the water bottle. it bounces off your phone and lands on the floor. you look up at him. “hey!” you say , sitting up and reaching down to grab the bottle. he walks over to you with a smile gingerly giving you a peck on the lips , grabbing the water bottle and throwing it in the trash. “i just wanted your attention.” he says , getting on top of you , making you lay back down on the couch. “you’re so annoying , did you know that?” you place your hands on the sides of his face.

“you like it.” jimin rests his head on your chest. “don’t you have a live chat to entertain?” you look over at the bedroom door. “they’ll be okay for a few minutes.” jimin kisses your neck. “we can’t get caught doing anything , or even heard. you’ll get in trouble.”

“i don’t care about that.” jimin runs his hands up your shirt. you smile softly , debating whether or not to give in. “plus , i know you like the risk so why bother trying to reason with me?” jimin sits up , looking down at your body. the way your bra was peeking through your white tank top was turning him on even more. he places his hand in between ur legs , feeling on your clit through your shorts. you squirm at the sudden feeling , watching his hands as he begins to pleasure you. with his left hand , he grabs onto your thigh , squeezing it gently.

you reach out onto his wrist , making him stop. he looks down at you once more , lifting you up a bit. you sit up slightly , ur back leaning on the arm of the couch , your legs still open. jimin gets close , gripping onto the sides of your shorts and pulling down , exposing you. the AC makes your now exposed skin cold , making you shiver. jimin quickly takes off his shirt , revealing his tattoo and fit figure.

he unbuttons his pants and takes out his cock from his boxers. you look down at it , feeling intimidated for some reason as he was already hard. he licks his fingers and rubs them against your vagina , making your folds wet for him. he does the same to his cock , grabbing it and lining up with you.

he pushes himself against you , sliding in slowly. you put your hand against his chest , but he makes no effort to slow down. he begins to thrust in you silently , not wanting anyone to hear what was going on. you shut your eyes , trying to resist the urge to moan. “don’t make noise.” jimin says , whispering in your ear as he continues to fuck you. keeping your hand on his chest , you feel yourself becoming slippery as jimin softly pounds you with ease. your legs feel shaky with pleasure , the feeling of wanting to cum already creeping up inside of you.

jimin notices and shakes his head no , not wanting you to finish so quickly. your toes curl as he goes deep inside you, his chest touching yours. he moves your hand from his chest , interlocking his fingers with yours. he slides out and sits you up , turning you around on your knees. your elbows rest on the couch arm as you bend a bit lower , arching your back.

the idea of lube and oils makes you excited , but you realize they’re in the room and you wouldn’t be able to sneak past the livestream to go get them.

jimin puts himself back inside of you , thrusting. he holds onto your hips as you fuck him back , feeling sticky and aroused. he stops thrusting inside of you , letting you do the work. you fuck yourself on him slowly , enjoying every moment of pleasure when suddenly , jimin grabs onto your neck with his left hand , forcing you up. he tangles his right hand with your hair , pulling it gently. he begins to pound you.

you shut your eyes , your hands resting on the couch arm. before you can cum , jimin stops thrusting , unloading himself inside of you. you feel his cum dripping out of you as you try to pant as quietly as possible. he waits a few moments , softly beginning to fuck you again. his cum spreads all over your vagina and thighs as his cum also coats his cock. he fucks you quietly but roughly , wanting to make you cum before he went back in the room.

you let out a squeal as you orgasm on his cock. jimin immediately covers your mouth , gripping it harshly. after a few moments , you turn to face him as he slides out of you. his face is pink and his hair looks messy. you smile at him as he gives you a kiss. you try to fix up his hair a bit as he grabs his shirt and puts it back on , buckling up his pants too. when he feels ready enough to go back in the room , he grabs another water bottle and opens the door to the room , leaving you out of breath on the couch as he goes back to his livestream.

written by swanlakebaby™

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

imagining ghoul just being completely dazzled by vaultie reader….their beauty, their clean teeth and nails, their skin…the softest, smoothest skin he’s seen in hundreds of years. he could hardly remember how it looked til now.

he’d watch over you while you slept by the fire he made with such fascination, studying your features like this when he knew you wouldn’t be able to raise an eyebrow at him and he could allow himself to be relaxed and let down his tough guy wall (after all, you only just met a few days before).

and when you roll up the pants of your suit one day in the heat and expose your legs…he sees they’re perfectly waxed (who knew they had that in the vaults?) and it takes everything he has not to just reach out and touch them.

Smooth Skin

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Vault Dweller

Word Count: 3,109

Warnings: smut (18+), sexual tension, masturbation (male), mild somnophilia, very mild angst.

Summary: Cooper's new companion is beyond distracting.

Notes: Another excellent submission! I have had VERY similar thoughts about how people in the vaults would still adhere to so many old grooming practices that had long disappeared from most of the Wasteland. It would be such a weird thing for non-vault dwellers to see, and not being able to maintain them would be quite the shock for vault dwellers.

Also, this poor old man wouldn't consciously recognize the feeling of "arousal inspired by a specific person" if you beat him over the head with it. It's been about 200 years since he felt it.

Cooper was beginning to wonder if he'd been screwed.

Holding the deeply familiar vial up to the light once more, he gave the liquid contents a shake, examining the consistency, the color, the weight. For the half dozenth time that hour, he lifted it to the open cavity in his face where his nose once sat, inhaling deeply, testing for any unfamiliar odors, ultimately finding none. Lifting the solution to his lips, he tasted it, once, twice, rolling it around in his mouth with deep suspicion.

Everything seemed to be normal about the latest bunch of vials he'd acquired, at least on the surface. However, he was beginning to worry that he'd been given some sort of dud batch, and now he was starting to dissolve into some sort of ferality.

But this didn't feel like the dozens of other times he'd cut it close over the years, when his chest constricted, fighting for every breath as his mind began to cloud with aggressive thoughts, making him feel ready to lash out at anything that moved. No, he could breathe just fine, and he didn't necessarily feel aggressive, but he did feel oddly tense and ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. It didn't seem like anything had changed about his treatment.

Then again, something else had changed pretty drastically over the last few days.

Standing in the baking sun, he waited impatiently for the little vault-dweller he'd inexplicably managed to become attached to to finish her business, infinitely more fidgety than usual. He scanned the horizon with uncharacteristically anxious eyes, his boot tapping in the dirt.

"C'mon, Vaultie! Move your ass!" he called, harsher than he intended, but when the girl came scurrying up out of the ditch, he offered no apology, simply jerking his head in the direction they'd already been headed down the road, waiting for her to get a step or two ahead of him so he could follow, watching her closely.

Very closely.

The old cowboy prided himself on his ability to analyze people, to figure things out about them long before they were disclosed. It had proved an immensely useful skill over and over again. This girl, however, confused him. The pristine cheeriness of her was unsettling, making her stand out clear as day against the dingy, angry, consuming Wasteland.

He didn't trust it, frankly. It had been a long time since he'd met anyone who was genuinely selfless and kind simply because they felt it the right thing to do. She was definitely hiding something, concealing her true nature, but at least she was good at it. Besides, he'd be lying to himself if he said part of the reason he allowed her to tag along with him wasn't that he didn't want to walk past her pretty little corpse on the side of the road in a few days...as if there would be a corpse leftover. At least, a recognizable one.

Ahead of him, the girl caught her boot on a crack in the ancient asphalt, sending her stumbling; his quick reflexes kicked in almost instantly, and he yanked her back by her suit sleeve, sighing when she cast a sheepishly apologetic glance his way. He rolled his eyes and gave her a small push to keep it moving, watching as her hair swished back and forth with her movements.

How many decades had it been since he'd seen a woman with long hair? Maybe it had even been a century, or more. Most women in the Wasteland kept their hair cropped fairly short; easier to care for, less for someone to grab onto if you were attacked. Shampoo was still fairly easy to acquire, but only because most people didn't have consistent access to enough clean water to bathe with. Hair could also be sold in some cases, and many people found themselves desperate enough to do something like that in this world, unfortunate as it was.

But this girl, her dark curls hung down to her waist, flowing down her back and shoulders elegantly, or laid along her spine in a neat braid when she got especially red and sweaty. It was so shiny; he wanted to run his fingers through it for some reason, so badly that when she'd bumped into him their first day of travel, her view obscured by the dark curtain, he didn't even think to scold her, too busy willing himself to not thread his fingers into the soft strands. When he was close enough, he noticed that it smelled like wildflowers.

He'd met her just outside Filly. Where she was headed, a few settlements northwest to find an aunt or a sister or a grandmother or something, wasn't the most perilous route she'd shown him on her Pip Boy (in a very surreal conversation where she'd treated him like he was any other man), but she was already showing that she wasn't truly equipped to make it there intact. Hell, she had flagged him down for directions, in a move that had made him genuinely wonder if he hadn't done too much Jet that morning. That little maneuver wouldn't get her killed with him (at least, on the right day) but it would quickly get her robbed or worse with many others.

His first instinct had been to leave her to her fate, but he found that he just couldn't leave her there on the side of the road, that blinding white smile, those big, round eyes, her basically pristine vault suit making her stand out like a sore thumb. Begrudgingly, he had agreed to let her walk with him to where she was going.

She tired rather quickly compared to him, his condition making thermoregulation much less of a concern. His soft new companion, however, was unaccustomed to the sun, to the heat, and was often too exhausted to continue in any real capacity by the time the sun set. The nights got cold, colder than it seemed she'd anticipated, and she chattered her way through that whole first evening; each subsequent night, he'd built a small fire to keep her warm through the coldest part. It annoyed him immensely, having to expose them in the dark like that, but, oddly, he found that he equally disliked watching her shiver on the ground.

"Do you think we could stop for a while?" she asked suddenly, stopping in her tracks to turn to him and nearly slamming into his chest in the process. His hand braced on her shoulder, slightly shoving her aside so they didn't collide; the hand that touched her tingled when he pulled it away, and he cast a quick glance at his palm.

"You're really pushin' it today, kid. You know that?" he growled, his tone dripping with unconcealed irritation. They could easily get at least a few more hours of walking in before the sun went down, and once she stopped walking for the day, it was hard to get her going again.

The way her eyes widened at him before dropping to the ground actually made him feel guilty, flooring him just a little. He held his face in its usual neutral mask.

"I'm sorry." she murmured, chastened. "I'm just not used to walking so long in the heat."

Immediately, he rolled his eyes, though whether he was rolling them at her or at himself, he genuinely didn't know. Casting his eyes further down the road, then around where they'd stopped, they fell onto a clutch of old, dead trees and rocks, a small amount of shade gathering there. It was well concealed enough, he supposed.

"Fine. We can stop over there. But we're gonna get a few more miles in today, at least, so don't get comfy."

Flashing him those perfect teeth again, she quickly made her way off the road and threw herself down at the base of the largest tree, hiding from the sun as best as she could. He took the opportunity to dig some food out of his bag, have another smoke or two, and reflect on his choices, his back to her by and large as he watched the road.

"I didn't know the sun was so bright." she huffed after while, her tone almost petulant. "Or so hot."

He turned back to her, a slick reply about her general naivete locked and loaded, but he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of her sat there on the ground, tugging off her boots and socks. Folding each sock into a neat little ball, she tucked them into their corresponding mate and sat them aside, stretching her legs out in front of her. Quiet, he watched her roll up each pant leg to her knee, as high as the cut of the material would allow, reclining back in the small patch of shade she'd found.

Those toned, smooth calves that peeked out at him were the most intriguing thing he'd seen in a minute, his eyes practically glued to the exposed skin. There was a softness to her that he thought didn't exist anymore; in her supple body, the way she actually held a little extra fat from years of being fed and safe in a vault, the soft, clear expanse of her skin, her clean, manicured fingernails. Oddly enough, he found himself deeply wanting to reach out and wrap one of his hands around her ankle, the other running up the taut muscle of her leg. He shoved the feeling down and turned back to the road, fidgeting.

A while later, the sun was dipping behind the horizon, but still frying everything it touched when she finally spoke again.

"Do you wanna get going soon?" she called, tone much more relaxed than before.

He turned to look at her again, having avoided doing so for over an hour, her sleeves rucked up to her elbows as well, and shook his head.

"Nah. Might as well just bed down here and get some sleep. Good a place as any, I guess. I wanna cover some real ground tomorrow." he replied, keeping his tone noncommittal. "Get your rest, princess. If you can't keep up tomorrow, I'm leaving your ass behind."

She shot him a look, somewhere between evaluating whether or not he was serious and rolling her eyes at his continued unpleasantness, but she didn't respond outside of a simple nod, sinking back down onto the ground and closing her eyes. Once the sun went down fully, he went around gathering up dried sticks and brush to build a small fire, setting up near where she was obviously quickly falling asleep, curled up on her side and using her backpack as a pillow.

Cooper kept watch for a few hours as it quickly darkened, the girl falling soundly asleep as he sat polishing his guns. Eventually, he grew bored of weapon maintenance, and his eyes were drawn to the vault dweller lying a few feet to his side.

He leaned closer, allowing himself to inspect her face closer than he'd had a chance to thus far. Walking behind her all day allowed him plenty of time to study her silhouette, her gait, the dancing length of her hair. But her face was always hidden, and when she turned to face him, he felt unable to look her in the eye for too long without that itch creeping into his brain, sending him searching through his pockets for his inhaler.

Now that he could take a long, uninterrupted look at her without worrying about being caught, it finally dawned on him, though, not immediately:

Fuck, she was beautiful.

And she was, and would have been if he'd met her in another life, too, each feature of her more appealing than the next. That long hair had been braided back away from her face, the length of it coiled like a snake along her back as she snored ever-so-lightly, her head sitting crookedly against her backpack. Before he could even think about it, his hand had already been tugged loose of his glove and reached out to softly pet at it, the strands silken under his bare fingers.

When did he get so close to her?

He thought back to her exposed legs, now hidden back away beneath her pant legs, kicked most of the way back down to assist in keeping her warm, and thought about how there had been no hair there. Many aspects of grooming that had once been normal were long lost to him, but that was certainly one of the biggest ones. He had completely forgotten that women once generally shaved the hair from their legs, and how big a deal it was considered when they didn't. He'd thought it was a silly thing to expect then; now, it just seemed like a sad thing to fixate on, with all that had been going on at the time.

However, that didn't stop him from imagining how smooth, how silky her legs would feel if he ran his hands along them, how high the smoothness would go until he would be able to feel the presence of downy little body hairs, the likes of which he hadn't had himself in centuries. Would they start at her knees? Or would he have to feel all the way up to the tops of her pillowy thighs to feel them? He remembered, vaguely, that some women would shave between their legs, too, and wondered if she did that as well.

Why was he thinking about what was between her legs?

His brain was so foggy the longer he looked at her, his one free hand quickly moving to dig his inhaler out of his pocket, taking the longest drag he could take off of it. It didn't clear his mind, didn't stop him from feeling like he wanted to touch more of her, to lean close and smell her, taste her. A hard shudder broke down his spine, and his cock set to throbbing in his pinstriped pants, his teeth gnashing. He was anxious to get to the next big settlement so he could buy new vials; he was convinced there was something wrong with these ones.

Regardless, he could breathe fine and didn't feel like a threat to the girl, necessarily...so his attention shifted, rather sourly, to his aching erection, now straining against his thigh.

It wasn't that he never masturbated; he was still a man beneath all the rads and rot, and his sex drive had never fully died, only dwindled down to a single flame whose presence didn't usually draw any attention from him. But it wasn't something he relished in, no more than eating food he couldn't really taste anymore to sustain himself or feigning sleep to allow his legs and back to rest. It was simply another need that had to be met on occasion; a quick tug at himself, not thinking of anything in particular, until he spilled onto the ground and went on with his life. It never needed to be more than that.

Now, however, his entire gut was aflame, the smell of her filling the air and further intoxicating him, his still-gloved hand moving to press against his cock through the fabric, the feeling leaving him arching his hips slightly up into his own touch. He wanted so badly to touch more than her hair, but knew that it wasn't advisable; the girl slept more soundly than anyone in the Wasteland, it seemed, but if she were to wake up and find him touching himself beside her, who knows what trouble there would be?

He couldn't touch her, but that didn't mean he couldn't study her, running his eyes over each part of her over and over again as the light and warmth of the fire slowly died down. He was tracing curve of her breasts and the way it flowed into the little roll of her belly for the umpteenth time, grinding hard against his hand, by the time the flames died down completely. She'd curled almost completely in on herself, hiding her face against her hands, and he wished he could look closer at it again as he slunk closer and closer to the edge.

As if she could read his mind, she suddenly rolled onto her back, resettling quickly as her head slid fully off of the bag. The mild highlights of the moon played along her face and torso, her plush lips parting in a soft, dreamy sigh. Fleetingly, he wondered if she would make that sound for him if he touched her just right, and, embarrassingly, that thought was enough to put an end to him.

The orgasm that washed over him granted some mild relief, his spend pooling in a sticky mess in his pant leg as he let out a few quiet heavy breaths, the hand that had been touching her hair scratching lines into the dirt, but it was bittersweet. In the haze afterwards, for the first time in a long, long time, he thought about Barb, about the way she would sigh his name when she came apart, about how soft and warm she would feel against him when he held her close after they made love. The deeply buried pain behind his breastbone that had started the day he'd found out the truth about her kicked up once more.

Sitting in the dark silence, a hard edge of discomfort and annoyance steeled up his spine, leaving him still in his ruminations until the uncomfortable feeling of the mess in his pants became intolerable. Letting out a huff, he shifted away from her and walked a few steps away as quietly as possible to clean himself up as best as he could, shame thick in the crisp air. When he finished, he dug into his pocket for an angry cigarette, jamming it between his thin lips and turning back towards her to face away from the breeze as he lit it.

But when he looked at her once more, really let himself look at her, he felt that pain in his breast soften, her soft skin almost glowing in the moonlight as she slept, peacefully unaware of anything but her blissful rest. It wasn't something he saw often. When he sat back down beside her, grabbing for his loose glove in the dark, he sat close enough that the outside of his thigh touched the arm under her head, pulling on his lit smoke absentmindedly as he continued to study his little companion. Her even, steady breathing was quite soothing to him, actually.

He was still going to buy a new set of vials.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone. 

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg. 

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad. 

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed. 

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself. 

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way. 

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

 As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town. 

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived. 

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months. 

The smell of the outdoors. 

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.” 

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

[kai-strophics]

If I had a penny for everytime there was a male, brunette, serial-killing detective with red eyes and a strong, albeit morally screwed sense of justice who is associated with the color red and a fucked up demonic God thing that follows them around, whose homoerotic rival has messy black hair and bad posture in a popular anime franchise

I would have 2 pennies, which isn't alot but it's weird it happened twice

[partycatty]

Can you do Johnny and a Fem reader thats taller than him? I'm getting KINDA TIRED of the whole 'u look up at him' thing like... no I don't.

the prompt made me giggle bc i have a mk oc that's taller than most people LOL

johnny cage > improv

johnny meets his new partner in his upcoming action movie, he doesn't expect to be outshined.

notes: johnny's like 6'1 probably, so i'm making the reader somewhere around 6'4ish. just taller. like "look down at him" taller.

[ masterlist ]

a new action movie? hell yeah, no problem, johnny figured as he walked with a sway in his arms. walking onto this set and that set was something he was fairly used to, and he practically owned his little area in this particular studio, considering just how often he picked up their projects. what he didn't anticipate, though, was his usual spot by the temporary living space was taken up by a trailer that was most certainly not his. who uses that color on the exterior?

then again, he thought, maybe something changed. maybe his assistant rented a different model and he was supposed to try it out. so, like the gentleman he is, johnny tries the door to the trailer that opens with a firm click. the last thing he expected was to see a figure at the other end of the trailer, sitting at a screwed-in vanity and humming under their breath.

"excuse me," johnny calls out, crossing his arms as he takes a few more steps inside. "i believe we haven't met."

you swivel in your chair, removing the earbud that was settled in your ear. when you realize who you're talking to, you sit up straight.

"oh," you're surprised he just welcomed himself in. "hello. are... is there something you need?"

johnny swallows, a little weirded out by it all. "yeah, actually. uh... you're in my spot."

"your... spot?" you raise a brow, looking around for the imaginary chair he must have been referring to. "i don't follow."

johnny shakes his head. "it's... nevermind. this spot on the lot is usually for the lead role."

his comment makes your brows knit together. "i am the lead role."

you can see the gears turning in his head as he realizes what he got himself into. you're an A-List celebrity, just like him. johnny wasn't going to be the top dog like always. it all makes sense now, reading the script and realizing why all of the emails were cc'd and never directly sent to his manager; you're the lead, he's the secondary.

all johnny could do was step toward you, now looking down at you as you sat at the vanity. his expression is blank, though there is a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks for being wrong. god, he hates being wrong.

"oh, sorry," your hands grip the sides of the chair, snapping him and yourself from the silent tension. "suppose i should introduce myself."

you hoist yourself from being sat and tower over the actor so easily it's a shock his knees don't wobble out of nervousness. you're tall, so damn tall and it flusters him even further. he doesn't even realize your hand is outstretched, he's too busy swallowing thickly over your shadow overtaking his form.

"you're..." johnny trails off, finally attempting to shake your hand. "nice to... meet you. sorry, i—" he spins on his heel and exits the trailer with a slam. you chuckle, realizing he was covering his face sheepishly, raising his sunglasses to the top of his head. interesting first impression.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

shooting the first scenes came quickly after your introduction, the weirdness of it all still bothering johnny ever so slightly. as you stood side by side he couldn't help but steal nervous glances. his side eyeing was not only incredibly obvious but reminiscent of a dog.

he always thought he was into people smaller than him, considering he himself was a big guy. but the way you'd use your height to your advantage, or the times you could look over him, he was blushing like a maniac. tragically, one of the scenes you two were meant to shoot was one where your characters were in a heated argument.

"if we let them go now, this entire mission would have been for nothing!" his character shouts, running a hand through his hair and fidgeting with the prop gun on his hip. "i'm sorry, but i can't let you get in the way."

you weren't blind, you could tell your presence made him anxious. thankfully, just as his specialization is doing his own stunts, yours was improvisation. and boy, was now a time as ever to take advantage of this skill. letting out a faux-angered growl, you grab both of johnny's hands and slam them against the wall above his head. you lean down to get to his eye level, a snarl on your face that leaves johnny a stuttering mess. your frame was much larger than him, and with the way you bent down, he was completely caged within your grasp. you noticed the director stand up straight in amusement.

"listen here, you son of a bitch," you follow the script flawlessly, tone straight like you didn't pin your co-star to the wall. "you're gonna take an order and that's that, are we clear?"

johnny looked like he could agree to murder right about now. His eyes are hazy as he wets his lips and darts his eyes between yours. "loud and clear."

a loud "CUT!" saves johnny from further embarrassment, and you pull away from him like it was nothing. if the director was complimenting either of you, it fell of his deaf ears and johnny's far away gaze as his hand falls to his chest to check his racing heartbeat.

"you alright, lil guy?" you fold your arms and stand in front of him, a smirk toying at your lips, but you knew his fragile ego wouldn't be able to handle your full cockiness. however, you were sure the insertion of the nickname got to him like a metaphorical gunshot as he clutched the fabric of his shirt.

"peachy, doll." his grin was so strained he looked to be held at gunpoint. you had never seen an actor, of all people, to struggle this hard.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 61

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Autistic Lance (Voltron) [series] by dontthinkiwont

"Look, okay, I get it, I like peanut butter, you like sharks. It's a thing, whatever. But seriously, dude - what the fuck?" - Or, Lance has Autism Spectrum Disorder and this can cause him to fixate on some things. Like, maybe, for instance, great white sharks. For example.

yes i like this series for projection reasons. whatever. it was also one of the first autistic lance fics out there!! and its v heavy in platonic relationships yall are gonna love it

2. Revelations and Reactions by @azapofinspiration

Keith couldn't believe it. He was part Galra. That was hard enough to deal with... But then he realized that he would have to tell the rest of the team. He couldn't help but fear how they would react. In which Keith reveals that he's part Galra after facing the Blade of Marmora's trials.

azap truly never misses. they KNOWWWW how to do found family like a CHAMP and i will never get tired of reading canon corrections where keith is like. loved and accepted lol

3. A Memory Like a Snapshot by MemeKonVLD

Pidge is still close —closer than is entirely comfortable if he has to be honest— giving him an evaluating glance. Lance doesn’t really know where to look, other than up her nose— but that grows old pretty fast. So he looks at himself in the reflection of her glasses. And squints. He touches his own face for the first time since waking up— and feels the roughness of his chin. “I have stubble,” he says, and the words are as alarmed as they can be even though they still sound slightly slurred, slightly off. Pidge blinks a couple of times at him, and finally retracts into a more comfortable distance. “Well, yeah,” she says. “You are like, what? 22? 23 in a couple of months?” “I’m feeling— I’m feeling a little queasy,” he says then, with bright spots of color dancing in front of his eyes as he thinks 22. Suddenly, a bucket gets shoved against his face. He takes hold of it with clammy fingers and he leans on his side so he can... use it. Thoroughly. “I’m having Garrison flashbacks,” he hears Pidge say.   (Or: Lance is stung by an alien bug, loses his memories temporarily and makes assumptions about his and Keith's relationship. Also, Pidge cheats at Uno.)

losing your memories. and waking up. and someone treats you so kindly and lovingly that you know, immediately, in the bones of you, that they love you. and the feeling in your chest even if your brain doesnt remember of love for them tells you clearly that this person is your soulmate. i am going to LOSE IT

4. Love in the Times of (Intergalactic) War by MemeKonVLD

Lance: Oh, man. [I see him grow visibly excited here, leaning forward and putting his hands up— he’s big on gesticulating, as anyone who’s watched the pilots of Voltron host SNL a couple of months ago knows.] Space is vast. I know that’s not groundbreaking knowledge there, and everyone’s somewhat aware of it, but— being up there? traveling around space for years, and knowing we never even— we never even came near to touching upon a tenth of what’s out there? That’s cool, weird and scary all in one.

WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT 2016 FICS. HUH. ICONIQUE?? AMAZING??? SHOWSTOPPING?? INCREDIBLE??? bc pov outsider is the BEST and watching how much lance SHINES to anyone who looks at him...yeah

5. Skin by MemeKonVLD

He’s aware of Lance talking to him, but he’s still too asleep to try to decipher whatever it is he’s blabbering about. He only starts paying attention when one of Lance’s hands goes to the drawstring of his pajama pants. “Whoa, what are you doing?” He asks, slapping Lance’s hand away, cheeks warm. “You,” Lance starts, pointing at him (and Keith notices that for all he’s made fun of him for the last forever for them, he’s wearing his fingerless gloves), “are not screwing up my skin care routine, man.” (AKA: the one where Keith and Lance switch bodies.)

suave keith and flustered lance my BELOVED. swapped bodies truly has to be one of the top ten tropes of all time. love watching them be in love and also stupid

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[complexparadox1]

Soooo indulged myself in some Tiger Hybrid Kazutora content cuz honestly I'm OBSESSED with the idea! So tiger hybrid!Kazutora x Fem!Reader. Smut, mentions of attempted forced breeding, licking a weird amount of licking, knotting, breeding, idk probably some other stuff too. Enjoy 😊

As you walked into Kazutoras small apartment located just off the main house you could hear the sounds of growling and whimpering the moment you opened the front door. "Kazutora?" You called out his name gently, tentatively. In an attempt to announce your arrival into his space.

Walking a bit further into the apartment you found Kazutora, the tiger hybrid was curled up in a ball on the floor. Round fuzzy tiger ears laid flat on his crown of black and blonde hair, his tail wrapped around his body. He was shuddering and barely controlling his breathing. His honey colored eyes were screwed tightly shut. A low growl escaped his throat when he heard your voice, he tried to speak but the words came out a mix of growls and whimpers that were unintelligible. He opened his eyes looking at you with desperation. Like a wounded animal begging for help but unable to verbalize what they needed.

You approached him slowly and cautiously. As you approached you could see he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, pupils blown wide. "Hey, just breathe Kazutora. Take a second and tell me what happened." Your voice was low, soothing, gentle which was like a balm to the tiger hybrids fragile emotional state. Your eyebrows knit together in concern as you looked him over, he was clad in just his sweatpants and the muscles of his torso flexed and contracted violently as he trembled.

Kazutora tried once more to speak and once more his words came out incoherent, nothing but growls and whines. After a moment he managed a shuddering breath, Kazutora already struggled with English a fair amount and his panic was making that worse. "Trainers…tried to force…mate. Drugs...feel different." He managed the words between panting breaths. His claw tipped fingers dug into the carpeted floor beneath him. Tears were streaming down his face as his body shuddered. He looked fragile and scared, despite his large size.

Your hands moved to ever so gingerly flick a few rogue strands of hair from his sweat covered face. "Oh Kazutora." Your voice came out in a sad breath as your fingers delicately ran through the strands of inky black and gold. "Let's get you into your bed ok? It can't be comfortable to lay on the floor." While his body had stiffened at your initial contact, fangs bared and eyes narrowed after a moment he relaxed ever so slightly. The fearful aggression melting off his features, you were his caretaker. You had never hurt him, you were the only human he trusted. "Bed…safe." He mumbled his agreement, moving to stand on trembling limbs as you helped guide him to his bed.

He was quick to collapse into the nest of blankets and curl up within them, his tail once more moving to wrap around his trembling form. He closed his eyes and you could hear a soft purring emanate from him as he relaxed into the mattress and blankets. "You…you stay?" He asked honeyed eyes looking at you in a mixture of fear and hope. He didn't want to be alone, not after all that he'd been through. He hated being isolated. Kept captive. Your heart squeezed a bit at his words, it showed a great deal of trust that he wanted you to stay. You nodded without a moment's hesitation. "I'll stay, don't worry." You soothed as you carefully climbed into the bed beside him. Not getting too close, allowing him distance if that was what he wanted.

Kazutora was quick to snuggle in closer to you, head rested against your shoulder, arms locking into place around your waist as if he was afraid you would simply disappear if he didn't hold onto you. He let out a sigh of relief and allowed his citrine colored eyes to slip closed. His ragged breathing slowly settled out. His tail was still wrapped protectively around his body but it was twitching in a relaxed way, his purring growing a bit louder. "You…are different…from them." his voice was little more than a whispering breath, his face nuzzled firmly into your neck. "You don't hurt." The words came out softer still and your hand moved to slowly reach over and stroke his hair, combing your fingers through the strands. "I won't ever hurt you Kazutora." You murmured reassuringly as his warm breath ghosted across the skin of your shoulder as he held you close.

At your words he sighed contentedly, his body slowly relaxing fully against yours. The pads of his fingers stroked your back, warm breath still tickling across your neck, his purring was like a constant hum that resonated into your very bones. "I…like you." He breathed the words softly. "You smell…nice." His nose brushed against the side of your neck and a small smile crossed your lips. His closeness was comfortable, he had come a long way from the fearful aggressive tiger hybrid you had initially met. "I like you too Kazutora." A small giggle escapes your lips at the odd but sweet compliment. "and I'm very glad you think so." Your fingers continued their soft motions through his hair, gingerly working out any small tangles and knots you came across.

A low growl of contentment rumbled from his throat. He shifted slightly his nose now brushing your cheek. His tongue flickered out to lick the skin there with the slightly rough muscle. "Smell like…flowers…sunlight." He murmured his fangs bared in a half smile as he licked your skin again, his tongue lingering for a moment this time. He seemed to be exploring your scent, analyzing it, and filing it away in his memories. "I like." He practically purred the words. You gave a soft hum as your heart picked up a bit of speed as his tongue grazed across your skin once more, a shiver trembling up your back. Goosebumps raised across your skin. "You're very sweet." You murmured quietly, unsure exactly how to respond to such a compliment but happy that he was content in your company. His purrs only got louder the closer he snuggled and nuzzled into you, his lips brushing against your cheek. "Sweet…like fruit…and honey." He whispered his breath hot against your ear as he ever so slightly licked the shell of your ear causing another shiver to spark across your body. He seemed utterly enraptured by your scent and was trying to explore it with all his senses. "Want more." He said in a low growly sounding whisper. You didn't think much of it, deciding the action was actually rather adorable. Despite being a large man in size he was acting like an adorable and curious tiger the more he nuzzled, licked, and snuggled into you. "More?" You inquired softly. "That's fine." Anything that would bring him a small piece of comfort in this moment you were more than happy to give to him.

Kazutora took your permission and nuzzled further into your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with his rough tongue. He licked your soft skin in slow lazy strokes. Savoring the taste of you on his tongue as he let out a low rumbling growl. "Tastes…so good." He murmured moving so his lips now hovered just above yours his tongue flickered out to lick your lower lip. He hesitated for a moment before his tongue traced along the seam of your lips, asking for permission. Your breathing hitched slightly, suddenly keenly aware of how intimate this moment was in all actuality. But after a moment your lips parted and his mouth pressed against yours a soft moan fell from his mouth and into your own. His body pressing closer into you as he deepened the kiss, his rough tongue exploring your mouth, gently coaxing your tongue to play with his. One of your hands moved to cup his cheek as his own hands wandered across your back gently kneading your muscles. The touch was gentle but firm. His purring left your body tingling pleasantly from head to toe. Nibbling on your lower lip, his fangs scraping the soft skin as his hands firmly held your hips. Kazutoras tongue entwined with yours in a sensual dance. His fingers traced the curves and dips of your hips.

He felt as though he were catching fire under your touch, his body heating up, purrs increasing in volume. His tail twitched with excitement and he didn't want to let go of you but he broke the kiss to gasp for air. Both of your faces were a bit flushed as you tried to catch your breath. "Want you…want…breed. Please…" his voice was a husky whisper filled with longing and lust as he once more nuzzled into your neck inhaling your scent deeply as if trying to imprint it into his lungs. "Kazutora-" his hot breath ghosting across your neck left you feeling tingly and dizzy. You weren't entirely sure how you should respond. While you could feel that your underwear were already damp with your arousal you didn't want to take advantage of the situation, of him. You were all too aware that Kazutora craved closeness, contact, and that the drugs his trainers had given him earlier had likely only heightened those desires. You didn't want to feel as if you'd taken advantage of him in a moment of vulnerability.

Kazutora sensed your hesitation, he pulled himself away, eyes filled with confusion and hurt. His body which had been hot and eager just a moment ago had now gone tense and cold. His ears were flattened to his head and his tail lashed out like a whip. "You…don't want…me?" He asked quietly his voice barely contained the hurt he felt in his heart and he felt tears stinging his honey colored eyes. His lower lip quivered. "I…am not…good enough?" His voice quavered with emotion and you felt your heart sink to your guts. Panic and worry consumed you entirely. "I do, I do want you. A lot you're more than good enough Kazutora I just-" you took a breath trying to think of the best way to verbalize you feelings. "I don't want to take advantage of you. Of the situation. I care about you. I want to be sure this is genuinely what you want." Your eyes scanned his, seeking out the comprehension as he looked into your eyes for a long moment. He was assessing your words, he tried to speak and his voice was still shaky. "Want this…want you…fill you…with cubs…my cubs." His voice was thick with desire as he leaned forward to nuzzle into your neck once again. "Please. Want closer…more." His words sent a bolt of heat directly to your core, a soft whine leaving your throat as you felt your underwear dampen a bit more with slick. Pleasant sparks running through your body as his nose nuzzled against your pulse point. "You're sure? This is what you want?" Your heart sped up in your chest, breeding for hybrids was particularly intimate. Kazutoras desire to give you his cubs meant more than having a baby in the traditional human sense. It was a mate bond, something that was deeply intimate and personal, it would span a mated pairs entire life. Kazutora was quick to nod his head, amber eyes bright with need as he kissed your neck. His claws scratched your back lightly eliciting a shiver and a whimpered moan from you, he was entirely lost in the moment. "Yes, want mate. Want cubs." He murmured his breath hot against your skin as his tongue once again licked at the sensitive skin of your throat. His fangs were ever so deliciously dragging across the skin of your collarbones. "Yours…claim…mine." He practically growled, that was all the consent you required and your hand slipped to palm at his erection through the fabric of his pants. His hips bucked against your hand, his pants growing tighter at the contact. "Then I'm all yours Kazutora." His eyes lit up with an almost feral gleam and he practically ripped his pants down in one swift motion. His thick member sprang free, fully erect and already dripping with precum. He panted fangs bared and he growled a low primal sound that resonated through the room and sent a thrill through your body. "Mine. My mate…breed…mine." He growled the words as he pushed you back into the bed, his hands roaming your body. Kazutoras claws made quick work of your clothing, lacking any patience to actually remove them. His tail coiled around your leg and he licked your neck again, marking you with his scent. "Mine." He growled again and the word sent a particular heat through your body.

Now entirely stripped down and exposed under his amber eyed gaze, your pussy leaking syrupy slick as a slight shiver of anticipation rolled through your body. Kazutora couldn't help but to purr loudly as he looked over your completely nude form. His eyes were wild, pupils blown wide with lust and desire as he took it all in from your look to your scent. He leaned forward his tongue slowly tracing the outline of your hips causing you to wriggle slightly as your sex throbbed and ached for his touch. He slowly worked his way down to your pussy lips and licked a thick stripe savoring the taste of your slick. With his face now buried between your legs as you gasped sharply at the sensation you'd been craving for. "So sweet." He murmured before he pushed his tongue into your weeping sex lapping at your inner walls. Exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue as you choked on your moans and writhed at the feeling on his tongue lapping inside of your trembling heat. Kazutora purred loudly, pleased with your reactions to his touch, his tail flickered around your legs as his claws dug into the sheets as if anchoring himself to the bed. "Kazutora~" you mewled his name as your own hands twisted up the bed sheets. He was clearly savoring every single drop of your slick, his eyes closed as he purred against you rutting his stiff cock into the mattress in order to gain some relief from the throbbing ache. A rumble emanated from his chest as you cried his name in pleasure. His cock ached for release but he wanted you to cum first. He increased his pace, moving his tongue to flick across your clit causing you to arch your back off the mattress as he suckled on the tender bud, his fangs grazing across your slick folds. His body was tense with need. "So good…my mate." He growled as he slid a finger inside of you being mindful of his claws as he matched the rhythm of his tongue with his finger creating a steady pace of thrusting and rubbing causing you to writhe and keen in pleasure. You were an absolute mess under his touch, the coil inside you had already built to a feverish level. "Cum for me…for your mate." You arched into the touch, chasing the sensation and craving for more than just his finger inside of you. "Kazu-Kazutora nngh, ah!" You could hardly form words as you came absolutely undone. A whiny, shivering, moaning mess. Your hole gushed syrupy slick as you came hard onto the digit that pumped inside of you.

Kazutora wasted no time at all to lick up your juices and he moaned loudly, his cock leaking precum as he nuzzled your pussy lapping up your slick and inhaling your smell. Satisfied with your response he pulled away crawling up your body, his cock brushing against your pussy. Kazutoras honey colored eyes locked onto yours filled with lust and he kissed you deeply. You could still taste yourself on his tongue as it invaded your mouth with hunger. You mewled into his mouth as he kissed you. "Mine…want breed…give you my cubs." He whispered between kisses, his hips grinding his cock against your pussy, his body burned with passion. "Yes please, please breed me. Want your cubs. Please." You keened and whined desperately, your body hot and aching. Eyes half lidded and hazy from your prior orgasm. Kazutora was quick to listen to your pleas his ears perking up as he growled with satisfaction. He positioned himself at your entrance and pushed his cock slowly into your slick pussy. Your hands flew up to grab his shoulder as you let out a sharp moan. He groaned loudly as he felt the warm walls of your cunt clench up around his member. He began to move his hips in a slow steady rhythm each thrust making him plunge deeper inside of you. His claws dug into the sheets, his breathing labored. Your head pushed back into the pillows as your body arched and moved into his strokes, practically feeling him in your womb as ragged breaths and pants left your mouth. "So good, so tight." His tail was thrashing around, a testament to his arousal as his cock slipped in and out of your pussy with ease. "S'big Tora, s'good." You slurred and choked on your words, his cock practically crushing your ability to speak. A low growl escaped his throat. "Mine, breed you…make cubs." His voice was ragged and low as he continued thrusting into you at a near animalistic pace. "Yours ah, yours all yours! Want you just you, please please please!" Each of his thrusts was punctuated by your cries. Your pussy practically trying to suck him in. Your body was a live wire crackling with lust and need.

Kazutora growled loudly, his mind focused solely on breeding you and filling you with his cubs. His tongue licked your neck again, his fangs scraping across your skin. His growling and purrs got louder with each thrust and he pulled out of you after a moment. A soft whine emanated from your lips as he withdrew his cock from you and you were suddenly left feeling empty and aching. "Come on…hands and knees." He said between ragged breaths his eyes burning with lust and his cock rock hard. "Take you from behind." You were all too eager to comply with his request. Getting on your hands and knees on the bed causing him to groan in pleasure at the sight of you, your pussy soaking wet and dripping with slick. "Please Tora, need you inside me." You mewled and whined desperate for him to fill you up once again. His cock still rock hard was quick to angle against your entrance as he slammed himself inside of you to the base. You bit the pillow to muffle your screamed moan as he pounded into you and didn't stop. His hips slapping hard against your ass, his balls slapping against your clit. Kazutora growled fangs bared. "Yes, so hot…tight." He snarled as he buried his cock into you repeatedly, his hips snapping in almost feral fashion. You were a mess, biting the pillow to muffle the lewd noises streaming from your mouth. He was rough, the grip on your hips was bruising and his claws left marks in the skin. His tongue licked your spine, lapping up the bit of sweat that had built up there. "Mine…want cubs…yours, mine." His voice was thick with desire as the sounds of skin slapping skin, and both of your lewd cries filled the room. His heavy balls slapping your clit causing you to nearly vibrate with pleasure. You could feel the coil of your orgasm rapidly being wound to the point of snapping. Kazutora was grunting from the effort he was exerting, he was close to his own release and he could tell by the fluttering of your cunt around his length that you were too. It was overwhelming and as you clenched around him particularly hard he slammed deep with a growl his cock dumping a copious amount of cum inside of you. His knot forming, locking him inside of you pushed you over your own edge. Vision going white from pleasure as you moaned and wailed into the pillow you were holding. Kazutora was purring loudly, his claws still dug into your hips but slowly loosening their grip as your walls milked out the last bits of cum from him. "All mine. Filled you…with my cubs." He managed to pant out as you both collapsed onto the bed. Kazutora was still on top of you, his knot still holding his seed deep inside of you to ensure it would take. He leaned in to nuzzle your neck lovingly. "My mate, bred with you. All mine." His words were filled with satisfaction, love, and possessiveness. You were still panting and gasping for air, vision still hazy from your orgasm. "Love you, love you so much." The words fell from you breathlessly and Kazutora purred loudly kissing your neck gently. His honey colored eyes filled with love and adoration. "Love you, my mate." He murmured feeling his knot slowly beginning to go down he pulled out slowly making sure his cum stayed inside. He pulled you into his embrace kissing your forehead tenderly. "You rest. Need rest, for the cubs." His instincts were in overdrive, telling him to make sure you did as little as possible now that he'd given you his seed. Ensuring you would mother healthy cubs. A soft hum left your lips, already half conscious due to the exhaustion of having been so thoroughly fucked. The feeling of him wrapped around you in a protective and loving embrace; with his tail coiling around your leg to anchor you to him. You fell quickly and easily into sleep. Kazutora kissed your cheek softly holding you close as his honey colored eyes also drifted closed and he fell into what was the most peaceful sleep the tiger hybrid had ever had, next to the human he loved.

[compressedrage]

Okay so you guys remember this post?

Well....

Chosen couldn’t believe his eyes. 

The city glittered with color; banners hung from poles, streamers stretched above the heads of the bustling crowd, and the crowd itself shimmered with the brightest of shades. 

Sounds of all kinds reached his ears: all the people laughing and talking over one another, the wind brushing against the decorations, the faint strains of music drifting about

Chosen halted just at the edge of it all to close his eyes and drink it in.

The moment was broken by harsh sizzling and a startled “What?!”

Chosen bit back a chuckle and cracked open one eye. Dark stood beside him, the grass scorched beneath his feet. He stared up at the city, mouth wide open and eyes the size of icons. He held up his arms to encompass everything and only managed another sound of bafflement.

Chosen laughed. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it–“

“It’s amazing!” Dark cried. He squinted at a poster on a nearby wall. “What’s a ‘festival’?”

It hadn’t been that long since they’d escaped the computer. By Chosen’s count, maybe a couple days. Those had been spent flying around the surrounding land, messing around, and discovering just how much Dark knew.

He knew what a PC was, and he had a vague understanding of the concept of an “animator”. But the nature they saw around them mystified him.

Chosen shook himself out of his reverie. “It’s like a party, I think.” He said. “A big one. Anyone in the city can go.”

Dark glanced at him, his eyes alight. Before Chosen could do or say anything Dark grabbed his hand and dragged him into the crowd.

_._._

People chattered, salesmen yelled across the street for potential customers to view their wares, lanterns hanging above the street swayed on their strings, making some sticks look up in mild concern as though they were going to fall at any moment.

It was loud. It was overwhelming.

Chosen loved it.

He let Dark pull him into a run. They weaved in and out of the crowd, dodging the stands of various items and hopping over benches.

Chosen craned his neck, wanting to see everything. He released Dark’s hand for a split second, looking at a family of sticks playing a game at a booth, when he ran smack into something.

He rebounded and fell to the ground, as did the stick he’d run into.

He sat up. “Hey!” he snapped. “Watch where you’re–“

It was a kid. He’d ran into a kid.

They sat up from their sprawled position on the ground, their face screwed up in a pout. They stuck out their tongue.

Chosen quickly got to his feet. “Sorry,” he stammered. “That was probably my fault.” He held out a hand.

The kid raised their eyes to Chosen’s face and their jaw dropped. They simply stared at Chosen with wide eyes.

“Uh–“

The kid scrambled to their feet and ran– straight into the arms of a nearby adult, who gathered them into their arms and shot Chosen a deadly glare.

Chosen swallowed and offered them his best “whoops, sorry” facial expression. He must have not done it correctly, because the stick scoffed and disappeared into the crowd with the kid.

Weird.

Now that Chosen wasn’t preoccupied with accidentally running over children, he came to the realization that he was alone.

He’d let go of Dark’s hand, and he’d must have kept running through the festival without him.

Chosen ignored the little pang of annoyance that came with that thought and focused on scanning the sticks around him for a bright red stick with a hollow head.

Strangely enough, while there were quite a few sticks with crimson coloring, there weren’t any with hollow heads. Not a single one.

Chosen moved through the crowd, eyes peeled. There were sticks of every shade, size, and shape– but none who resembled him or Dark. A few of them glanced at him and then double-taked. Did he really stand out that much?

Chosen stepped out on a curb, emerging from the crowd into what looked like a park. Groups of sticks stood around talking, playing games, or purchasing things from booths and pop-up carts scattered on the grass.

Chosen halted. He inhaled slowly. Those carts were full of food.

It smelled amazing; better than anything he’d ever smelled.

Chosen’s mouth watered. His stomach made itself known with a familiar pang, and he had an instinctive thought to keep an eye out for some icons or an essay the next time Noogai let him out– 

No, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t on the PC anymore.

…what did normal sticks eat, anyway?

Chosen slowly approached one of the carts. There was a short line, and he hovered awkwardly behind two adolescents as they ordered. The stick manning the cart handed them a cylindrical wrapped item, and they gave him a handful of crumpled bills.

Wait, bills?

Chosen winced as he noticed the sign on the side of the cart, outlining the prices of what was apparently burritos. It was likely a very fair price; Chosen just didn’t have any money.

His stomach growled, and he stepped back from the cart sheepishly. Maybe there was some free samples somewhere–

His eyes landed on a half-unwrapped burrito lying innocently on a nearby picnic table. No one was around. Nobody was watching him.

Chosen side-stepped next to the table and quickly glanced around one more time.

He snatched up the burrito, tucked it in his arms, and began walking backwards towards the center of the park.

He bumped into someone, causing them to yelp. He spun around, already apologizing, and nearly ran into someone else.

The crowd had grown; Chosen was surrounded on all sides. Bodies pressed in on him. His breathing quickened. He screwed his eyes shut, overwhelmed–

“Chosen!”

Chosen startled and swung an arm at his attacker, but it was caught midair– by Dark.

“Hey dude!” he shouted over the noise of the crowd. “Lost you for a sec. You good?”

Chosen blinked, then nodded.

Dark spotted the burrito clutched in his hand. “Ha!” He held out his own findings: a small portable dish filled to the brim with rice and meat. “Did you steal that too–“

Dark slapped a hand over his own mouth, his eyes widening. A grin spread across his face. “Whoops, probably shouldn’t have said that–”

Chosen rolled his eyes.

Dark gestured for Chosen to follow him. They slipped through the crowd, across the park, to a curb a-ways-away. Dark sat on the pavement behind an empty cart, and Chosen plopped down beside him.

“What’d you get,” Dark asked, poking his own pile of rice with a finger.

“Burrito. What’s that?”

Dark shrugged. “Dunno, can’t pronounce it. Started with an O, though. Ooh, what’s this green stuff–“

Chosen looked back to his burrito. It had clearly been unwrapped before, and then rewrapped in a failed attempt to keep it safe. He took a corner of the wrapping and pulled it away.

The smell smacked him in the face. Chosen’s mouth began watering again, but he opened it slowly. It had been a while since he’d eaten anything. Was it different with actual food? Did he have to chew?

He took a bite.

Flavor exploded in his mouth, and he flinched backwards in surprise. Cautiously, he chewed. Textures spread across his tongue and crunched under his teeth. It was… delicious.

Nothing had ever been delicious before. The things he’d eaten on the computer had been dry, sometimes crunchy in a stale sort of way. Usually he wouldn’t even chew, simply gulping letters and icons down as fast as possible before he would be yanked back by the chain.

But this was different. This wasn’t just eating for the sake of sustenance; this was an experience to be enjoyed.

Chosen swallowed with difficulty. All this time… other sticks had been living normal lives. Not trapped by an Animator, or forced to be a pop-up blocker. They’d just been… living.

Noogai would have kept all of this from him. Locked him up forever.

He felt a spark of anger, but it was quickly drowned out by– something. An emotion Chosen couldn’t identify. A lump of good-bad stuck in his throat. He unhinged his mouth a little and took a bigger bite.

As if from far away, he heard Dark talking to him and laughing but he couldn’t focus on it. A lump rose in his throat and he couldn’t swallow past it. The sun was in his eyes. He could see the sun. 

He really was free.

Chosen crumbled into a ball and began to sob.

He felt Dark jump, but he just hugged his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms. His chest heaved, and he gasped as warm tears bubbled up and rolled down his face.

He could feel it all– the wetness dripping down his face, the tightness in his throat, the strange pain-but-not-pain settled in his chest. He wasn’t dying, was he? It would suck to finally be free and then die on day four-and-a-half.

“Chosen?” came the quiet voice.

Chosen shifted his head to the side to look at Dark. Even through his teary, blurry vision, he could see how worried Dark looked.

How could he even begin to explain this? Dark hadn’t had to live the way he had. Chosen would never wish that on anyone, much less his new companion, but it meant Dark would never truly understand.

He opened his mouth–

His voice didn’t work.  

Well. That solved that problem.

He swallowed with difficulty and tried to smile reassuringly. All he could manage was quirking his lips up to one side.

Dark still looked a bit panicked. “Are– are you–“ he stammered, then stopped. He suddenly thrust the remains of his rice dish in Chosen’s face. “H-hold this.”  

Chosen grabbed it, and Dark stood to run off somewhere.

Chosen sniffed harshly, and looked down at the dish. It smelled nice. There was what looked like a triangle made of rice. He carefully scooped it into his hand and took a bite. It tasted good. More tears overflowed, and he chewed slowly, feeling a breeze brush against his face. He shut his eyes for a moment.

Something tapped his shoulder. He turned to see Dark, holding out a small stack of napkins. Chosen blinked at him, a little confused.

Dark gestured. “For your face.”

Chosen reached up and registered how wet his face was. He snorted softly in amusement. He took the napkins and began wiping his face.

Dark cleared his throat. “…you okay now?” he asked.

Chosen wanted to say he was fine. That he was more fine than he had ever been. That if he took another bite of anything else delicious he might melt into a puddle. But his voice was sealed up and he could only nod.

Dark let out a breath. “Okay, ‘cause that was– I don’t–“

Chosen’s lips twitched to the side.

There was a beat, then Dark said slowly “do you wanna leave?”

Chosen rubbed at his eyes as he took a moment to think. He shrugged.

Dark nodded a little. “They’re um, they’re lighting lanterns over there.” He held out his hand. “Come on, let’s at least go see what they’re doing.”

Chosen scrubbed at his face one last time before grasping Dark’s hand. He let himself get pulled upright, and then gently dragged towards the milling crowd to see what was going on.

Dark was right; the lanterns shone softly against the pink-blue sky, and the crowd had gathered in a circular arrangement.

Dark craned his neck, but after he seemingly failed to see what the commotion was, he hopped up on the side of a nearby cart. He gasped. “They’re making a dance circle!” As he spoke, music began to play, and the crowd livened.

Dark clambered down– whacking someone in the face in the process and earning himself a sharp “Hey!”– and grabbed Chosen’s hand. “Come on, Cho! Let’s go dance!”

Chosen blinked at the nickname and felt his throat release. “But I don’t know how to dance.”

“Neither do I! Come on, it’ll be fun!” Dark’s eyes were shining, and the music had picked up and Chosen’s head was beginning to spin a bit but he still swallowed hard and said “Alright.”

Dark whooped. He turned and began pushing his way to the edge of the circle. Chosen followed, ignoring the pointed glares they were getting.

They reached the edge, where they had opened a clearing on the grass. Dark paused, his gaze fixed on the dancing sticks in the middle. A new pair emerged from the crowd and began dancing. They were applauded for.

“Hang on, I’m getting a feel for how they do it,” Dark whispered to Chosen. He began bobbing his head to the beat and Chosen found himself swaying along.

The couple spun past them and Dark crouched down to watch their feet. Around them, other couples had broken out of the circle and into dance.

Dark clapped his hands. “Okay I’ve got it. Here, take my hand; and I’ll take yours– and off we go!”

Chosen yelped as Dark pulled him in the clearing and they tried to dance.

Tried being the relevant word.

“We have to step together,” Dark raised his voice above the music. “Around and around, see–“

Chosen tripped. “Woah hey– ouch that was my foot–“

“I’m not trying to– ack!”

They spun and nearly smacked into another couple.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry, we don’t know what we’re doing–“ Dark quickly grabbed Chosen’s waist and steered them away. They whirled around in a teetering tripping mess, whacking into people and just missing others.

Chosen’s head was still heavy, and everything was still a bit too much, but it was rather nice.

The lanterns were casting soft shadows and the sky was orange.

The music was loud and happy, and Dark was laughing.

Somehow, Chosen found himself laughing along.

_._._

OKAY WE'RE DONE

HOORAY

THANK YOU TO @bittersweetbeet AND @karimationkat FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL IDEAS

and here's the other tags for the people who wanted one (I think): @storgicdealer @astronnonyy

This fic is currently on Ao3 also, so it's my first published AvA fic! We're hitting milestones tonight, people

it is nearing my bedtime, so I will be heading off to bed soon, but I just wanted to post this before I do <3

[queenofthedisneyverse]

Cryptid! (Alien) Kenji HC's

The first thing you noticed about him was his eyes. They would always be gray, dusty blue, or some sort of purple. Never normal eye colors. At first, you just thought it was the trick of the light or Kenji just wore eye contacts.

Nope to both. One morning you decided to stare intently into his eyes and cup his cheeks so that he wouldn't move away. So, it wasn't the trick of the light.

"Kenji...do you wear eye contacts?"

"Uh...no. Why?"

"Your eyes change color then...a lot, actually!"

The second thing you noticed was the aura around him. He looks human, talks human, acts human, and physically feels human but something about him is just so off-putting. Especially when he's in the dark and his eyes reflect light.

His intense stare, tall frame, long arms, and long legs just makes you feel as if...if he wanted to hurt you, he could easily be able to. But more in a more cryptic way.

His pupils dilate like an owl's, usually when he's in a really sappy mood. You thank God that he doesn't do that in public. And you find it cute. Creepy but cute. But you also notice how the eye dilation leaves quickly if the happy feeling is fleeting. So you figure he probably has done it on the baseball field but his must've only done it when he scored and it just so happens the camera's, shockingly, never catch it.

He also has white glowing spots along his back, kind of like a fawn. The glowing spots are rare-ish, they usually come out when he's working out.

All of these little traits make you question what he is. Is he an alien or creature impersonating a human since childhood? What are his parents? What do his ancestors look like?

When he told you he was Ultraman it sorts of clicked. You always figured Ultraman had to be some sort of otherworldly being. That led to this question

Red is Kenji, blue is you

"Ok so...what IS Ultraman?"

"....Ultraman is...me?"

"No...like...what ARE YOU??"

"...Japanese?"

"Omg...Kenji...you do realize that you do very strange things that aren't humanely possible...correct?"

"....what?"

You explain to him everything you've seen his body and its kind of...screws with him a bit.

You mean to tell him that not only did he not fit in America, or more importantly, his birthplace.... HE DOESN'T FIT IN AS A HUMAN BEING EITHER???

You felt bad after saying what you said and therefore let him know that you love him and all of his weird traits.

That made him feel better...a little. But now he became self-conscious of every step or motion he made.

You saw this and it made you feel worse

This is getting sad...

That's all I got, if you have any ideas, lmk

[sirfrogsworth]

It was 1991. I was 10. And the other white kids at my Catholic elementary school started getting into rap. And I always thought if I did what my bullies did, they would bully me less. So I got a cassette tape of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch and the new "Hammer" album. He dropped the "MC" part of his name because he wanted to be taken more seriously as an artist and too many sketch comedy shows had made fun of parachute pants by that point.

So he was just Hammer.

Apparently I screwed up because they only liked the white rappers. Because they were all a bunch of little proto-racists. But that pretty much limited you to Marky Mark and Vanilla Ice. But I liked the way MC Hammer danced so I picked that out at the music shop.

Other things I tried to get on the good side of my bullies...

I learned how to play hockey (which I ended up really liking).

I had my parents get me a White Sox Starter hat. It had to be from that brand though. And despite being in St. Louis, it had to be the White Sox. For some reason it was cooler to root for a non-local team at the time. I guess that was the extent of edgy counterculture for 10 year olds.

I got shoes that had little air pumps in the tongue. You'd press a little basketball and it would inflate the top of your shoe.

Oh, and you had to get this Adidas jacket.

This was fun because it came in a bunch of colors but I got black just to be safe.

The Adidas jacket was my last attempt to get on the good side of my bullies. One of them took apart an ink pen and dropped it in my hood. I spent all day with it just jostling around and spreading ink everywhere. When I came home at night my mom noticed the entire hood was stained with ink. I cried my eyes out and she tried her best to clean it. And I think I got mad at her when she couldn't. I asked her to buy me a new jacket but I'm pretty sure they couldn't really afford to buy me that one to begin with. She assured me you couldn't even tell and no one would notice if I never used the hood. But the bully who did it knew and pointed it out the next day. And they all made fun of me for my ruined jacket.

I think it finally dawned on my tiny squishy brain that I would never appease these jerks no matter what I did. No matter how much I tried to fit in. And that's when I had the discussion with my parents to switch schools. They told me the only other option was public school. They worried there would be a lot more kids able to bully me. Because I was a weird kid and said weird things. But I wanted to try it. Plus, it probably saved them a bunch of money in tuition. My bullies all told me I was going to get stabbed because of the Black kids. But, in reality, it was the best decision I ever made.

It took me a little while to adjust. I had been so traumatized at my previous school that I had trouble controlling my emotions. So I would cry at the drop of a hat. And one of my teachers got upset with me because I'd cry if I got a bad grade or if I forgot my homework. One time my dog actually ate my homework and she didn't believe me and I cried, so my parents had to write a note for me.

But eventually I learned I was not actually a big weirdo as my bullies had said. I was funny. And I made people laugh. And they liked laughing. And it turns out, if you entertain people, they don't want to make fun of you anymore.

What was I talking about?

HAMMER!

Yes, that was my first CD.

And I liked 1 song on it.

Because Hammer got too serious and I wanted parachute pants.

[bokettochild]

Hyrule headcannons because :)

he doesn't actually understand Hylian Sign, he grew up in Calatia and knows their sign, but he's still new to Hylian anything, but since the others don't realize this, he sometimes gets left out of conversations

He's bi-lingual, Calatian and Hylian both, with a small smattering of Labryn

he absolutely loves sweet things, with a preference for sugary items over juicy ones

he tends to save extra non-perishable foods in his bag for a rainy day

he has a favorite type of bug, and yes, it's based off of flavor

he adores butterflies and likes finding out new kinds, because their wings are all so pretty and unique (he will not eat them)

he knows a lot about geology, just not the proper terms. he has his own vernacular for geological happenings, but he has a good grasp on the science of it all outside of that

he's better attuned to magical signatures than the rest of the chain

he likes Wild as a person, but while they share interests and habits, Wild's magic is strongest when he's doing what he loves and because his magic is Very Off-Putting, it makes it hard to be around him for extended periods

he has so many unspoken puns. Pun King. He doesn't think they'd be appreciated by the others, but he's biding his time until they're all comfortable enough with each that it won't matter

his favorite color is yellow because that's how his parents described the sun before Ganon's power corrupted the world

he's very good at weaving, and while art isn't his thing so much, designing new patterns for his fabric is a fun past time when he's very bored

because Hylian culture is new to him, he's been studying it a lot and, unlike the others, has already pieced together a rough timeline

he actually doesn't care much for his fairy form and only uses it when he needs to, mostly because he perfers the freedoms that having a larger body gives him, even if flying is nice

the idea of birds is still very new to him, and he tends to be off-put by bird-song and the sound of wings; the world making noise is still weird to him

while he's okay with having someone treat his wounds, he's very insistent about clean-up afterwards due to his blood being a key to resurrect Ganon. He's not above using Legend's hemophobia as an excuse either, if it gets him out of explaining

a bit of a clean freak in general, he likes to keep his items in perfect condition and organized, even his cave has precise places for everything

while birds are off-putting, he likes feathers, he likes collecting fallen ones to wash and tusk in his bag, not to use on anything particularly, just because they're pretty

he thinks cows are one of the most beautiful creatures in the world (Malon loves it)

he's very particular about gift giving; showing thanks is important, but giving gifts out of the blue feels rude because it makes others feel awkward, still, he'll make sure to return any gift given to him, usually with a particularly pretty feather, rock, or a small woven trinket

during long winters he used to build tiny houses with sticks to entertain himself, and his designs are very intricate at times

his favorite type of food (outside of sweets) is soups, he fully supports food being drinkable and when Wild introduced him to smoothies (sweet and drinkable) he fell in love

he loves art, although he doesn't care to try making it, but legend's sketching and Sky's carving have his full support and awe. Aurora likes to paint as well and he can spend hours just watching her work

he's terrified of babies, he's certain he'd either break them or get them sick or somehow screw them up, so bringing a baby in the room is one of the quickest ways to make him leave

in contrast, he loves cats and handles them like most people do babies

math whizz

[cannibalizedlove]

hi hi! Could I request an Elio x ftm reader smut? One where reader has had top surgery but not bottom and Elio is expressing that he doesn't care, if anything prefers it for "convenience"? Just him being himself with a boy he loves, like causal dominance (making sure he's cared for 24/7) leading up to smut? I hope i'm not being too detailed 😭

Hi hi! Thank you for your request! You weren’t being too detailed, I enjoy more fleshed out requests so I can fully support your needs! This is my first time writing smut, so I hope it isn’t too terrible!

Just the way you are.

Information and warnings — FTM reader, fluffy smut, dysphoric reader, Elio being horny as always, soft dom/whiney dom Elio.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” You asked your boyfriend, Elio. The two of you were laying down on his couch, cuddling him as he read his book with his free hand gently caressing your hair.

“Hmm? What’s weird, sweetheart?” Elio put his book on his leg, pages side down, turning his head to give you his full attention.

“You know, I have one of the surgeries but not the other? I just don’t feel like it’s very.. manly I guess.” You admitted, embarrassed about your body.

You had your top surgery done earlier in the year, and were extremely happy with the results. Your chest had always given you extreme dysphoria so having it done was like a weight taken off your shoulders. Elio was so happy with your new found confidence, and constantly reminded you how much of a handsome boy you were.

He made it his mission to make sure you were happy with your body, and would take you swimming just so he could compliment you on how sexy you were with your shirt off.

Whenever you were feeling dysphoric, he would always bring you a bowl of fresh picked fruit from the garden, and would tell you that you were the most gorgeous man he’d ever met. He’d play you gorgeous songs on his piano, and would always write you notes about how handsome you were.

“Amore mio, that’s not weird at all. If you’d like to have the surgery, I’ll be here every step of the way to help you recover, but it’s not a problem with me at all. If anything, I kinda like it, easy access.”

Elio added a wink at the end and kissed your neck, making your cheeks flush a dangerous red color. He recklessly threw his book on the coffee table and began attacking your neck with more kisses.

“Elio..” You whimpered out, earning a smirk you could feel against you. “Easy access? What do you mean?” You asked breathlessly, your body heating up by the second as he nipped your ear and sucked on your neck, resulting in a decently sized purple splotch.

“I can so easily take my boy whenever I want, you’re always soaked for me. I can bend you over whenever I want, angel.” Elio whispered softly, rubbing your hips gently.

As you whined, he looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently asking for your permission to go any further. When you nodded yes, he jumped for the opportunity like a hungry animal.

Elio had thrown his shirt off over his head, and crashed his lips into yours, biting your bottom lip in the process. You felt like the room was a hundred degrees, and you began to feel yourself soaking through your boxers.

He slowly snaked his hands into your swim trunks, rubbing circles around your clit. His lips moved down to your chest and left love bites all around your nipples, softly sucking on the both of them.

You felt like you were melting, you were moaning incessantly and tugging on Elio’s hair with enough grip to have him groaning along with you. Your back was arched, with your eyes screwed shut. Elio ceased all action just to take in the sight of you.

“Fuck baby, you’re such a gorgeous boy. My gorgeous boy.” Elio moaned out, undoing his shorts and sliding them down. He was now sitting in between your legs, with your ass on his lap, allowing your crotch to be on full display.

Elio hastily removed your boxers, practically drooling at the sight of you unclothed, just for him. He brought his thumb back to your clit, and you grabbed onto him, squeezing his forearm while whining out his name.

He took off his own boxers, his hard on hitting his lower stomach. “Is this okay? Are you ready?” He asked, cupping your cheek. Elio knew about your insecurities with your body, so he would always check up on you and make sure it was okay for him to go any further.

“Yes more than okay, please, I need you.” You pleaded, and with that, he pushed his entire length into you.

“Fuck, angel. You’re so fucking good.” Elio cried out, wasting no time and instantly slamming back into you. At this point you were an incoherent mess, you were babbling nonsense and all you could fully say was his name.

“You feel incredible baby boy, you’re so perfect.” Elio bent over and kissed you, only breaking the kiss to let out whiney moans and to whisper compliments to you. Your legs started to shake and you swore you saw stars, your nails dug into his back and released on his length inside you.

Soon after your undoing, his hips began to stutter, and his pace was becoming slower and slower. One last thrust and he had came all over the both of your chests. His curls were stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were half lidded. Elio took his boxers from the floor and wiped the both of you down, tossing them back down to wash later.

Your face was completely red, and your mouth hung open, completely fucked out, Elio’s favorite state of you. You pressed your forehead to his and held him close, panting together.

“You’re my boy, I love you just the way you are.” Elio said with a kiss.

[ardienothesieno]

post game isat thoughts i have

what the title says i have thoughts in my brain and i want to share them

isafrin date thing pretty much immediately post-game: sif should get to be sick for at least a week. and the party fusses over them the whole time and it's adorable and then i think one night. sif should turn to isa and ask if he wants to hang out. hehe and sif brings isa to go look at the stars this time! and it's sort of like isa's friendquest but this time they are actually snuggling. and not just talking about isa, they're talking bout sif too some of the stuff isa says is reminiscent of the loops which freaks sif out a bit. but it just makes them happy to hear isabeau talk and he would share some things that happened in the loops-- wholesome things of course i think it'd still be a while before they opened up about the uh. the worse shit. but stuff like teaching bonnie to fight, finding out they were allergic to pineapple the hard way (isa would be freaked by this but sif finds it hilarious), maybe tell him about wish craft and color theory, the change god helping them out, bombing the king, etc etc. the nice stuff. AND THEN. I THINK THE ISA USING A SHOOTING STAR AS A DISTRACTION THING SHOULD HAPPEN-- BUT ITS REAL THIS TIME <3 like sif looks up and it's a whole freaking meteor shower... and isa tells them to make a wish, to which they respond "i'm not messing with that again for a looooong time" :)))) and i just think that should culminate in isa carrying a sleeping sif back to either the clocktower or the house, wherever the family has set up shop... njhgfcftyhujkuhgvfcdfty i love them they're so cute

LOOP THOUGHTS. i dont know if i am committing to this hc, but i think it would be cool if loop and siffrin became a system of sorts? i know very little about plurality so i dont really know what im talking about... if i get anything wrong please tell me! but ive got yet another scene in mind like right before the party leaves dormont to go pick up nille, sif visits the favor tree one last time. just. reminiscing. and mira would come along and find him and they'd have a talk! not specifically about loop, but loop would definitely come up in the conversation and then at some point sif says that loop mentioned that they'd be coming back and is like "i wonder when we'll see them again" and loop just screams HOW ABOUT RIGHT NOW and shoves siffrin out of front jhugtfcvfdxscfgthbnygvh i think loop should still get to have their own body and autonomy and stuff, i just think they should also be able to just show up in sif's head. and vice versa i think eventually sif figures out how to do it as well and they just get to constantly bother each other from a shared headspace dcgbnjuytfg

and. and then i think that can lead into a lot of sad wholesome moments where sif lets loop be siffrin for a little while. like the party is sitting around a campfire telling stories and being happy, sif notices loop hanging around in the headspace, and lets them drive for a bit. i dont think they'd do it very often or for super long or anything but. hgfcdxcfgybhnj. they should get to be siffrin every once in a while too. as time goes on and they become more of their own person they do it less and less, but for the first few months to a year or so it's comforting to be able to be surrounded by versions of their past family, if only for a bit as i said. i dont know what im talking about really so if i said anything badly or if any of these ideas are bad please let me know

time craft shenanigans i think sif (and loop) should get to keep time craft powers after the loops end not to like. the extreme that the loops were. but like how sif will loop back like five minutes if they screw something up socially-- i think they should get to keep that EXCEPT. the party learns to pick up on what time craft feels like. so if theyre ever talking to sif and boom weird time craft feeling and sif is in a wildly different emotional state they can just go "sif. did you loop back. what happened." i think it would be a good. like. starting therapy point? them having a toxic coping mechanism for when things go badly and the rest of the group helping him work through those situations instead of avoiding avoiding avoiding and i think loop should keep it for the memes (and trauma reasons. but mostly the memes.)

it would get better with time, as siffrin (and loop) gets more and more comfortable with being uncomfortable and messing up and learning to work through the anxiety and and and then that could lead to a big situation a few years in the future when the group splits up. and sif is TERRIFIED that the loops will start again i dont think the group would ever split up for good though. they're a family!!! they're not gonna just leave each other behind after another few months of traveling!!!! that just means all the suffering sif went through was for nothing!!!!! and yeah, they cant stay together forever. i know. but even after splitting up they'd still definitely have family reunions like every other tuesday

BUT SIF AND ISA NEVER SPLIT UP EVER. NOT EVEN FOR FIVE MINUTES they get bonded and go on to open a boutique/trinket shop <3

[master-sass-blast]

Let's (Not) Party, Baby.

Summary: You rub your swollen belly, both fond and exhausted. “I think it just feels weird to me. Like, the gender reveal party was to celebrate the healthy pregnancy lasting so long. But I just feel really weird about being, like, ‘I’m growing a human, come give me shit.’”

Kitty laughs as she unwraps another bar of chocolate. “Well, I think it’s the duty of the community to support pregnant mothers, y’know? It’s about equipping the parents with what they need to care for the baby.”

“Yeah, but everything I’ve read about and seen online is a whole spectacle,” you grumble. “And, honestly, I don’t have the energy for a party. I’m fucking tired. I feel bloated and sore. I don’t want to have a party where I have to put on real pants and eat melted candy bars out of diapers.”

Kitty stills, then slowly looks over at you with a wide-eyed expression of horror. “That’s a thing?”

“It’s a game,” you answer with a roll of your eyes. “You’re supposed to guess which kind of candy it is.”

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Kitty Pryde x Illyana Rasputin.

Rating: G.

Word count: 4.3k.

Set after "S'mores for Two."

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

“I guess I’m just not sure what to do.”

Kitty nods as she paints your fingernails a pretty shade of shimmering lilac. “Well, I think it just depends on, like, what you and Piotr want to do, y’know?”

The two of you are on the family room couch; you’ve both taken over the space a bit, actually. It’s a scheduled at home spa day, courtesy of Kitty. There’s dozens of bottles of nail polish lined up on the coffee table, next to two discarded face mask wrappers, a tub of coarse sugar scrub, a sleeve of cotton discs, and an entire store's worth of toners and moisturizers. There’s a half-empty pizza box on one end of the table, several bars of chocolate (and more wrappers), an open jar of pickles (the good, Kosher deli kind, according to Kitty), and a cereal bowl half-filled with peanut butter.

You swipe one end of a pickle spear through your bowl of peanut butter, then crunch down. I mean, I know that’s the point, but… “I think it’s more, like,” you begin once you’ve swallowed, “that I never thought I’d be in this position in life. And that if I ever did get to this stage in life–” you gesture vaguely around you with your munched-on pickle spear “–that I’d automatically know what to do.”

Kitty nods, curly hair bobbing with the motion of her head. “I get you.” She finishes your right hand, then screws the lid back onto the corresponding bottle of polish. “It’s, like, hard to wrap your head around.”

“Yeah. I mean–” You pause to load more peanut butter onto your pickle, which is harder than it sounds. “How are you even supposed to plan baby shower stuff?”

It’s a quandary that’s been gnawing on the back of your mind for months now. The gender reveal party, at least, had been easy. Tasty food, balloon with colored confetti inside, Aiden’s photography team because you and Piotr had wanted pictures, done. It’d been a celebration of having a pregnancy last long enough to see the baby’s gender –and a wonderful day where you and Piotr learned you’d be welcoming a daughter in a few months.

Trying to plan a baby shower, however…

You rub your swollen belly, both fond and exhausted. Your eviction date is coming for you, Masha, whether you like it or not. “I think it just feels weird to me. Like, the gender reveal party was to celebrate the healthy pregnancy lasting so long. We all ate food and enjoyed each other’s company. But I just feel really weird about being, like, ‘I’m growing a human, come give me shit.’”

Kitty laughs as she unwraps another bar of chocolate. “Well, I think it’s the duty of the community to support pregnant mothers, y’know? It’s about equipping the parents with what they need to care for the baby.”

“Yeah, but everything I’ve read about and seen online is a whole spectacle,” you grumble. You hold your hand out for a square of chocolate, then pop the piece Kitty gives you into your mouth. “And, honestly,” you continue as you tuck the chocolate into your cheek like a hamster, “I don’t have the energy for a party. I’m fucking tired. I feel bloated and sore. I don’t want to have a party where I have to put on real pants and eat melted candy bars out of diapers.”

Kitty stills, then slowly looks over at you with a wide-eyed expression of horror. “That’s a thing?”

“It’s a game,” you answer with a roll of your eyes. “You’re supposed to guess which kind of candy it is.”

She gags, then shakes her head. “Fuck that. That’s just gross.”

“Exactly!”

Kitty eats a few squares of chocolate, expression contemplative. Once she swallows, she says, “I guess I don’t see it as that big of a deal –not having a baby shower and all that. We don’t have baby showers in Jewish circles.”

“Oh.” Your brows lift upwards. “Why not?”

“It’s considered inauspicious,” she explains. “My best friend’s older sister’s parents kept all the baby stuff at their house until she gave birth. Then, they went over to her and husband’s place and set everything up for when she came home.”

“Oh.” You cock your head to one side, considering, then grimace and shrug. “We already have the nursery part way set up, though–”

“I didn’t mean that, like, that should do the same thing,” Kitty interjects. “I meant it, like, whatever you do should serve you and your happiness.” She offers you a reassuring smile. “There is no real rule about what’s normal or not. If a baby shower sounds exhausting, then don’t do it.”

“But people might be expecting for us to have one,” you sigh wearily, “so they can celebrate.”

“Fuck them and their expectations.” Kitty grins when you laugh. “I’m serious! All that matters is what makes you happy.”

“And Piotr,” you tack on once you catch your breath. “And he might want one.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find that out–” Kitty twists towards the front of the house when the front door swings open, then thumps shut. “Hey, speak of the man!”

Piotr pauses his conversation with Illyana as he looks towards you. He glances at you, eyebrows raised, then at Kitty, then back at you again. “Chto?”

“Your wife has a question for you!” Kitty hollers before flashing a dazzling, enraptured grin at Illyana. “Hi, baby!”

Piotr takes off his shoes, then strolls towards you. “You have question, myshka? Is everything okay?”

“Well, first things first.” You cock your head back so you can look up at him. “Will you give me a kiss, even though I’ve been eating peanut butter on pickles?”

He smirks, then bends down and presses his lips against yours.

“Aaw, what a man,” Kitty croons. She cocks her head back when Illyana approaches the couch. “Will you kiss me, even though I’ve been eating pickles without peanut butter?”

Illyana chuckles, then cups Kitty’s chin with her hand and kisses her girlfriend. She looks up when you and Piotr share a grin, then gently tugs on Kitty’s elbow. “Davay.”

“Help yourself to the pizza!” Kitty tosses over her shoulder as Illyana ushers her towards the front of the house (and away from prying eyes).

Piotr kisses the top of your head, then circles around the couch and sits down next to you. The couch creaks beneath him as he helps himself to a slice of cheese pizza, then again when he leans back and settles in. “Ty v poryadke?”

“Da,” you assure him. “I was just talking to Kitty about baby shower stuff.”

Piotr’s brows draw together as he chews a mouthful of pizza. He swallows, then says, “I thought baby showers were not held in Jewish communities.”

“They aren’t. It was more like…” You gesture vaguely with one hand and sigh. “I don’t know if I want to have a baby shower. I’m so tired, and I feel like a boat, and I don’t want to wear pants.”

Piotr lets out a bellowing laugh mid bite, then quickly claps one hand over his mouth. He finishes chewing between giggles, then swallows and sighs. “Oh, moya serdtse. One day, there will be pants that you like.”

“Doubtful.” You smirk, but it quickly gives way to weariness. “I mean… I just don’t know if I have the energy to deal with a baby shower, y’know? But if you want one, I don’t want to take that away from you.”

“What I want–” Piotr sets his partial pizza slice down on a piece of paper towel, then leans over and draws you into his arms. “I want you to be happy and well.” He kisses the crown of your head, then tucks your head beneath his chin. “Masha will be loved and cared for regardless of having baby shower. If you are tired, then you deserve to rest, myshka.”

“Yeah,” you agree as you bury your face in his burly chest, “but if everyone’s expecting us to have one–”

“‘Everyone’ does not get say,” Piotr interrupts gently. “If they wish to help or give gifts, they know where to find us.”

You sigh, then nuzzle against his shirt when he starts stroking your hair. “Maybe we can have, like, a nice dinner or something? With family and close friends? And some help to finish setting up the nursery?”

Piotr gently rubs your back. “That sounds nice.”

“Cool.” You sigh again, far more relaxed this time, then lean over and grab your jar of pickles. “Want a pickle?”

Piotr hums, then nods and plucks a pickle spear out of the jar. “Spasibo.”

“Konechno,” you say before kissing his cheek.

…

“Thanks again for driving me,” you say as you stretch your seatbelt around your swollen belly. “I’ve just been so tired lately that driving isn’t really a good idea.”

“Konechno, ptitsa,” Alex says as she starts the engine on her truck. “How did your appointment go?”

“Good,” you sigh as you stretch and settle into the passenger seat. “Everything’s looking good. Baby’s healthy. Blood sugar looks good. My iron’s still low, though, so I’m taking a higher dose of supplements and I need to be careful about overtiring myself.”

Alex hums and nods as she navigates out of the clinic parking lot. “What can we help with at home?”

“Uh…” Your face and mind go blank. You try, unsuccessfully, to kickstart your brain, then rub your face with your hands when your mind refuses to cooperate. “I think that’d be a difficult question without factoring in pregnancy brain.”

“Fair enough,” Alex chuckles.

“Man, I thought I was spacey before,” you lament. “And then it was bad enough weaning off my meds, but now–” You stop mid-sentence and gape when you see the sign for a McDonalds. “McFlurry.”

Alex laughs again, then changes lanes and drives into the McDonald’s parking lot.

One order for a large fry and an Oreo McFlurry later, the two of you are back on the road and headed for home.

You hum contentedly as you swirl a few fries in your McFlurry. Before you can indulge, though, your addled brain kicks back into gear. “Oh. Did you have a baby shower when you were pregnant with Mikhail?”

“No.” Alex pauses to turn, then explains, “It’s considered back luck in Russian culture. Most expecting parents won’t have one or purchase things for the baby until they are born.”

“Oh.” You blink a few times –the curse under your breath when McFlurry drips off your fries and onto your shirt. You shove your fries and remaining McFlurry “dip” into your mouth, then wipe down your shirt with a tissue (not that it does much good). Once you’re cleaner, and you’ve swallowed, you ask, “Then why was Piotr so ambivalent about whether we have one or not?”

“Because that boy will follow you to the ends of Earth if you asked,” Alex answers with a smirk. “And he’s Americanized a bit since moving here. Plus, we didn’t necessarily raise our kids to be so superstitious. Nikolai and I saw it as more to not ask about someone’s pregnancy unless they wanted to share, rather than luck related. We still prepared a nursery for Mikhail and stocked up on supplies.” She drums her fingers against the steering wheel while you wait behind another car. “To be honest, even if parties were part of our culture, I wasn’t in any shape for one.” She chuckles ruefully beneath her breath. “I was a wreck during that pregnancy.”

“Honestly, I feel the same way,” you admit with a heavy sigh. “I’m so tired, and sore, and I don’t want to wear pants.” You smile when Alex laughs, then continue with your griping. “Plus, all of the shit I’ve seen for baby showers just… doesn’t appeal? I don’t have the energy to decorate, and apparently there’s games you can play? But it’s weird stuff like melting candy bars in diapers, then having everyone try and guess what kind of candy it is–”

Alex grimaces. “That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah. Plus, if I’m getting candy, I just want to eat the candy.”

“Understandable and wise.”

“We talked about having family and friends over for dinner,” you continue after grinning, “and to have some help around the house and finishing the nursery… but, like, how do you ask people ‘hey, come bring some food and hang out and help us with the nursery and house stuff because we’re expecting a baby?’”

Alex smirks and shoots you a sidelong glance. “That seemed pretty coherent to me.”

“That’s not what I–” You stick your tongue out at her when she laughs. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” she assures you. She brakes for a red light, then looks over and puts one hand on your shoulder. “Just ask, ptitsa. Ask, and we’ll be there.”

You smile, and place your hand over hers. “Thanks, Alex.”

…

“I was thinking of actually printing invitations? I don’t know why, I just think it’d be funny.” You spit toothpaste foam into the sink, then resume brushing your teeth. “We could print an extra one to keep. It’d be, like, a cute memory thing.”

Piotr smiles at you in the bathroom mirror, amused. “We could. What would these hypothetical invitations say?”

“I dunno.” You rinse your mouth and toothbrush, then stick your toothbrush in the little holder you keep on the sink. “‘We’re having a baby; come eat food about it.’ Whatever works, honestly.” When he chuckles, you turn to face him. “Do you have a better idea?”

Piotr laughs, shakes his head, then bends and kisses the top of your head. “I trust your creative vision, myshka.”

“Damn straight.” You smirk, self-satisfied, then turn back to the sink and resume your bedtime routine. Floss, fluoride, wash face… what kind of food are you supposed to serve at a baby shower? “What kind of food would we have?”

“Uh…” Piotr clears his throat. “I am not sure,” he calls from the bedroom. “Perhaps we should discuss in morning. Take night to sleep on ideas.”

Your reflection scrunches its face as you floss. “I don’t think it’s that serious. It’s just, like, a potluck dinner. Almost anything would work.”

There’s a pause, and then your husband’s heavy footsteps approach the bathroom. He leans around the doorway and meets your gaze in the mirror, lips pursed. “Da. However…” He tucks his tongue inside his cheek and looks away. “Your nighttime cravings are… ravenous. And unpredictable.”

“I am not that bad!” You blow a raspberry at him over your shoulder, then toss your used flosser in the trash. “Fine. We’ll talk about food in the morning.” You reach for the bottle of fluoride –then gasp and scamper to the bathroom door. “We should have pancakes for breakfast!”

Piotr laughs and nods as he turns down the bed. “Pancakes for breakfast, very good.”

“With blueberries!”

“With blueberries.”

Pleased, you smile, then head back to the sink. Once you’re done with your routine, you head to bed and heft yourself onto the mattress.

Piotr, the saint he is, helps arrange pillows behind you to support your back. He leans over to watch as you scroll through YouTube. “Ah, nighttime listenings.” He holds out one hand. “Would you like me to find Among Us gameplay for you?”

“I can do it,” you insist, frowning. “I’m pregnant, not missing my hands.”

“Nyet, nyet,” he agrees. “But–”

“‘History of Americana Diner Food.’” You gasp when you see a thumbnail displaying burgers, fries, and a milkshake. Your stomach growls, and you groan. “Oh, burgers sound so good.”

Piotr bites the inside of his lower lip when you gaze up at him pleadingly. He hesitates, then sighs and relents with a soft laugh. “Davay, myshka. Let’s get you burger.”

You coo happily, then leverage yourself out of bed. “Just for that, I’ll share my fries with you.”

…

“I meant to ask you something earlier.”

Piotr glances over as you rummage through your take-out bag, then turns his attention back to the road. “Chto?”

“Why –that smells so fucking good.” You stop to cram a few fries in your mouth, then continue once you’ve swallowed. “Why aren’t you bothered by baby shower stuff?”

There’s a long silence. Then, with quiet bewilderment, Piotr says, “I think I am not understanding your meaning.”

“I mean… Your mom said that baby showers are inauspicious in Russia. But, when I asked you if we had to do one, you seemed ambivalent about it all.”

“I do not believe much in luck,” Piotr says after a moment, shrugging. “Some things are beyond control, da, but choices are what impact outcomes. Not unseen forces.” He pauses to change lanes, then adds, “And I want to be sensitive to you. You had bad upbringing. If there was something you wanted in preparation for our baby, for healing, then I want to make sure that happens.”

“Not everything comes down to my shitty childhood,” you press. “I’m not the only person in this relationship, and this isn’t just my baby we’re expecting.” You wolf down a few more fries. “I don’t want you to set aside what you’re comfortable with just because I had fuckheads for parents. This is all supposed to be about compromise.”

“I am not making myself uncomfortable, dorogoy,” Piotr assures you, tone gentle. He takes one hand off the wheel and takes hold of yours. “I think baby showers as tradition –as mandatory–is foolish. But if you want one to celebrate our baby, that would make me very happy. And if you just want to rest, that makes me happy, also. Khorosho?”

“Alright.” You squeeze his hand lovingly, then reach into your bag and retrieve a few fries. “Open up.”

Piotr chuckles, then opens his mouth and lets you feed him fries. “Spasibo.”

…

The two of you settle on printing one commemorative flier, just for the two of you, then email your prospective guests. The promise is for a breakfast-style buffet of sorts; the two of you will provide the blinis, kasha, and some beef bacon (so Kitty can partake), and everyone else has been asked to bring their favorite breakfast dish.

You bust out laughing when Wade –with Nate and Russell in tow–shows up with a trunk full of Poptarts. “You would!”

“We are not keeping all of those,” Piotr mutters as he eyes the wall of blue boxes uneasily.

“Says you,” you tease. “I’m eating for two! These should last us… oh, about a week.”

Ellie and Yukio supply doughnuts and muffins, Neena comes with a box of freshly made breakfast burritos, and Alex, Nikolai, and Mikhail bring a veritable feast of traditional toppings for the blinis and set up to make fresh latkes.

Kitty and Illyana arrive last.

You blink rapidly when you see the numerous bags and containers carried between the two young women. “You didn’t have to–”

“You’re the one who said to bring breakfast foods!” Kitty interrupts with a cheery grin.

You eye the gallon plastic bowl in her hands with mild suspicion. “What kind of breakfast is that?”

“Okay, this–” she gestures with the bowl as she bustles into the kitchen “–isn’t breakfast, but my mom heard that you’re pregnant, and she wanted to send along some food to help you guys out. This–” she lifts the bowl again “–is cholent, and ‘Yana’s got some roast chicken and challah from mom, for you guys, too. Do you have room in your fridge? Anyway,” she continues as Piotr starts rearranging the fridge contents to make room for everything, “we brought good bagels and toppings for them, because you can’t have breakfast without bagels.” She turns, finally catches sight of all the food in the kitchen, and her jaw drops. “Oh shit.”

“If you leave hungry, is own fault,” Nikolai announces while grating potatoes.

“Hey, that’s my kind of party!” Kitty says with a laugh. “Let me get my skillet and shit set up, and then I’ll start helping you, Nick. Where should I drop everything?”

“We have counter space for you over there,” Piotr says, pointing towards the back of the kitchen. “And vegan pancake mix.”

“There’s dairy free breakfast burritos for you in the paper bag!” Neena calls out. “And the guy doesn’t use pork for any of his recipes.”

“And the pork gelatin free toaster pastries!” Russell adds.

“The doughnuts back there are parve, too,” Ellie pipes up.

Kitty beams. “Thank you so much. You guys are awesome!”

You smile, and pause for a moment to take it all in.

It’s been an inexorably long journey. As far as you’ve come from your past, there are times where you still can’t believe you’ve made it here –somewhere good, and healthy, and safe. It almost feels like a dream. Or a magical trance. Or like you’re watching a movie, and you’re waiting for the credits to start rolling and for the house lights to turn on.

But it’s real. You’re in a beautiful home, with a wonderful husband, surrounded by people who love, respect, and care about you and each other. And you have a baby on the way, on top of it all.

“Myshka?” Piotr places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I’m okay,” you assure him quietly as you wipe tears away from your eyes. “Just very happy.”

Piotr smiles softly, then bends down and kisses your forehead. “I love you very much, moya serdtse.”

“I love you, too.” You tug him down by the collar until you can kiss his cheek, then pat his chest when he straightens back up. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Uh, only if you’re sitting down.” Kitty blocks you when you try to enter the kitchen. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to be resting? Doctor’s orders and all that?”

You purse your lips. “You guys are guests–”

“And we’re here to help.” Neena gently takes you by the shoulders and ushers you towards the couch. “So, let us help.”

“Resting is good, myshka,” Piotr starts when you protest.

“Aren’t we here to help both of you?” Ellie pipes up, voice flat but eyes glinting with unmistakable mischief.

“Yeah, but who’s gonna muscle Colossus out of the kitchen?” Russell stage whispers in reply.

All heads turn towards Alex.

Piotr’s confident expression quickly slips away as his mother looks him dead in the eye. “Mama…”

“Are you going to sit?” she asks in Russian.

“Bozhe ty moi –I am not pregnant,” Piotr insists. “I can help.”

Alex sighs, then rounds the kitchen island. “Alright.”

“Nyet, nyet, I am not, mama don’t –blyat!”

You laugh along with everyone else when Alex scoops Piotr up bridal-style.

She carries him over to the couch, then sets him down with surprising gentleness. “Be good,” she admonishes lovingly in Russian. She kisses Piotr’s forehead, then glances meaningfully at you. “Rub your wife’s shoulders.”

Piotr chuckles, somewhat exasperated, and rolls his eyes as his mother strides back to the kitchen. “I am grown man, you know.”

“Da,” Alex agrees without turning back. “You are heavy like one.”

You giggle when Piotr rolls his eyes again, then reach over and grab his hand. You fix him with your prettiest, most pleading eyes when he looks at you. “You don’t want to sit with me?”

“I always want to sit with you,” Piotr assures you, relenting immediately. He moves closer to you, then puts one arm around your shoulders. “Would you like me to rub your back?”

“Oh, always.” You lean against your husband, then relax as he starts rubbing your sore back with his thumbs. You groan, eyes sliding shut, and bask –in him, in the warmth of your home, in the happy chatter and delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.

Your life certainly feels full of magic.

...

Epilogue:

“Insert Leg A into Slot G–”

“That doesn’t fucking tell me which shitbag it is!” Wade snaps. He snatches the instructions out of your hands, scans the page, then growls and hurls the paper against the floor. “You’re a goddamn rocking chair! No one fucking asked you to run the elementary school accelerated program!”

“Definitely comes with the same baggage,” Neena mutters.

Wade looks over his shoulder at her, then back at you. “Remind me why she’s being the peanut gallery again, instead of using her internal magic eight ball to help us?”

Neena rolls her eyes. “For the last time, that’s not how my powers work.”

“Not to mention they’re probably already maxed to keep you from throwing the materials through the window,” you mumble under your breath.

Things would’ve been simpler if you’d just purchased a pre-assembled rocking chair. Unfortunately, not many of them come rated from someone of Piotr’s size (or the wear and tear you’re both certain that your baby –and, eventually, kids–will put the seat through).

“I keep telling you guys, you’re going about this all wrong!” Kitty calls as she carries the vacuum cleaner down the hall.

“Yes, do enlighten us, Ms. ‘Quantumania Axed the Best Character,’” Wade grumbles.

Kitty stares at him for a long moment, face scrunched up in conclusion. “...Right.”

“KURT WAS A GEM, AND WE ALL KNOW IT!”

“Look, you guys just need to let Alex and Ellie do this,” Kitty presses on as she gestures to the mess of wooden slats and rocking chair pieces on the ground. “It’s butch magic. They’ll sort it out in, like, ten minutes.”

“I already told you, Katherine,” Ellie hollers from down the stairs, “I can’t assemble a fucking chair!”

“Fine, Ellen!” Kitty shouts back. “Then just let Alex do it! Honestly, you have a hyper-competent badass in the house, and you don’t stick her on IKEA assembly? The fuck is wrong with you all!”

“Let’s keep things moving, please.” Alex’s voice and footsteps echo up the stairwell. “And reasonably calm,” she adds with a knowing look at Kitty. There’s a pause until Kitty nods and heads off, and then Alex appears in the nursery doorway. “What am I doing now?”

“How good are you at assembling rocking chairs?” Neena asks.

Alex chuckles, then plucks the instructions off the floor. “I’ll give it a go.”