#-from home. or accommodations where if it gets bad enough i can sit and rest until it goes away

[555-burg]

its honestly kind of weird to conceptualize myself as a person with chronic pain/chronic illness. Like i have migraines. ive had them for years. i know logically that chronic migraines are a chronic illness, and are literally chronic pain, and that especially in certain severities they do qualify as a disability in that they really do limit your ability to perform certain tasks and change how you interact with the world. Logically i know all of these things. but ive never thought of MYSELF as chronically ill or experiencing chronic pain. And it was really weird when i realized like. Oh. When i randomly wake up with a migraine and am essentially bedbound the entire day and cant do anything except lay down in a dark room. Or when a severe enough migraine makes me physically sick. Or when i get a migraine and even after i take pain medication that successfully treats the pain i still have physical and mental symptoms like brain fog and aphasia and shaking and fatigue. That is literally a chronic illness. and i am literally experiencing chronic pain. But i never thought of it that way in regards to myself i just always thought of it as. having migraines

[gabessquishytum]

Feeling very annoyed about my joint pain right now so what better way to deal with it than projecting my problems onto Dream?

So Dream is hypermobile, and he's been dating Hob for a little while. With Hob, he doesn't feel like he complains too much, he doesn't feel like he's a burden. He doesn't feel like he has to hide the pain and frustration he has to deal with because of his body. As a child he was often told that he was faking injury to get out of doing things he didn't want to do. Often he was told just to exercise more. As he got older, he was told that he was giving up on himself and that he should just push though the pain (despite the fact that when you're hypermobile, sometimes pushing though the pain now means needing joint replacements in the future). But with Hob, his problems are always taken seriously, his pain is believed and he's never infantilized for it. Hob isn't disgusted by his body doing weird things, his reaction to Dream hyperextending something on purpose isn't "put that away that's gross" it's "you'll regret that tomorrow"

Dream has definitely subluxed his jaw while giving Hob blow jobs before. After, because you know Dream wouldn't stop sex for something as trivial as a subluxation, Hob heats up a rice bag and massages Dream's face.

On his bad days, sometimes Hob will stay home from work just to comfort and be there for him. It's care like he's known from no other person ever in his life and he almost certainly cries about how lucky he is (usually in Hob's arms) at least once a week

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But I'm just spinning the concept of hypermobile!Dream getting comfort and acceptance from Hob in my head. Just Dream getting the comfort I wish I had in my life.

Oh anon, joint pain is so horrible. I'm sorry you're going through it. I'm also in the hypermobile club, so I feel you. I really do.

Dream finds it hard to accept that this will be his life forever, you know? There's no cure for his condition, only management. He spent a lot of time pretending that there was nothing wrong, and ended up hurting himself. He has so many regrets... but knowing that he also gets to spend the rest of his life with Hob makes it almost bearable. Hob has slowly adjusted their shared home to be hypermobile-friendly, putting in all the accommodations that Dream has denied himself over the years: a bath chair, perching stools in the kitchen, banisters on the staircases, even a wedge for their bed so Dream can prop himself up when he's feeling bad enough to be bedbound.

Hob knows Dream’s body better than his own. When Dream hyperextends his knees, Hob is the one to notice and give him a gentle nudge. When he's standing and hanging off his joints and straining them, Hob grabs him a chair so he can sit down instead. When he needs his ring splints, it's usually Hob who fetches and puts them on for him. Dream often feels like a burden, but Hob tries to explain that all of these things aren't chores for him. They're just intuitive, easy acts of love. Hob WANTS to be Dream’s support.

Sex is a lot easier with Hob than it ever was with past partners. There's k-tape and splints and joint braces, which Hob treats with the same reverence he'd usually save for lingerie. Dream, naked, clad only in wrist splints and k-tape, is the most beautiful thing in the world to Hob. Cause he knows that Dream isn't going to get hurt while they make wild and glorious love.

They've definitely had wheelchair sex. Hob has knelt between Dream’s slightly spread legs and sucked his cock. Fortunately the brakes were on, or Dream might have gone rolling across the room from the force of his orgasm. Hob is very good with his mouth.

All in all: life is really really hard, but it's also good. And Hob makes it all worth it by being there and being himself. Dream couldn't love him any more if he tried.

[ghostgirl-22]

Wanna ride that wave

18+ !NSFW!

Day 5: Edging (y’all it might be orgasm denial… idk)

___________________________________

Dealing with this Patrick thinks he deserves some kind of award. And no, not a trophy. He’s got plenty of those. No, he deserves sainthood actually.

It’s late summer and they’re bored enough to mess around. He’s barely dressed and lying on his bedroom floor with Art on top of him. Art’s touching his face, kissing him and he’s such a ridiculous kisser. He’s orally fixated so he’s using his tongue to search every bit of Patrick’s mouth for stimulation, which leads to him moaning, gasping just for the feeling of it. It drives Patrick insane. And when he’s feeling really silly he’ll move his hips and grind, chasing his own orgasm. He always comes first which usually… Patrick makes fun of…but tonight it’s working in his favor. Art can feel how eager Patrick is so he slows down. He sits up and looks over at the door. “Sorry, I thought I heard someone,” Art whispers.

Patrick groans. The little fucker has already come twice. He’s doing all of this to torture Patrick.

“No one is home,” Patrick says, he shifts his hips but Art doesn’t give him anything, he just sits up on his knees, taking away the friction so Patrick has to thrust into air.

People think he’s sweet and innocent, Patrick’s own mother says crazy stuff like, don’t be mean to that sweet boy. No one else knows that he’s evil.

Art looks down at him and smiles. “Whoops, I coulda sworn I heard a noise.” Art knows Patricks parents are out of town and his big brother won’t be home till midnight. He could literally stretch this out for hours if he felt like it.

Patrick reaches for him, trying to get him to sit back on his lap but he doesn’t come. He’s got Patrick circling the edge of it just because he can.

“I wanna lie on the bed,” Art says.

“Okay, fuck it, let’s get on the bed,” Patrick says, pushing himself up. Whatever he needs to do to get off.

Art watches him get up.

“Wait maybe…” he says and Patrick lingers. Art is still sitting on the floor. Pretty boy. Patrick wants to strangle him. “I’m hungry, do you have any more candy?” Art asks.

“Yeah, you can put this in your mouth,” Patrick says, gesturing at the tent of his boxers.

Art settles cross-legged on the floor and leans back on his hands grinning up at him. “Mm, I want something sweet to suck on.” He plays with his tongue in his mouth.

Patrick takes a deep breath and tangles his fingers into Art’s hair. “You promised you would as long as I didn’t touch myself.”

“I will,” Art says softly. “When I’m ready.”

He knows Art’s trying to get out of the promise by making it impossible for Patrick not to touch himself but Patrick’s just as competitive as Art is. Unfortunately, Art’s manipulative side is also a fucking turn on for him.

“Fuck,” Patrick sighs.

“You’re so obsessed,” Art grins. “All this cause I said I’d put it in my mouth. I feel like you’d do anything I say if I promised you could put it in my ass,” He sighs and uncrosses his legs, drawing his knees up.

Patrick hates how right he is and he gets back on his knees and crawls between Art’s legs. “Can I put it in your ass?”

“Yeah,” Art smiles, “when you close your eyes and dream.”

Patrick takes a breath. “I’m going crazy.”

”So touch yourself,” Art shrugs, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’ll watch.”

“I can do that anytime, I wanna feel you,” Patrick whispers.

“Obsessed,” Art smirks.

Patrick kisses him and Art lets him do it. He only stops when Patrick tries to push him on the ground and get on top of him. Art licks his lips and Patrick sighs, breathing less than an inch away from his mouth.

“You just wanna fuck me so bad,” Art whispers.

“So bad,” Patrick agrees.

Art smiles and kisses him again, slowly. He moves to get on Patrick’s lap again and Patrick moves to accommodate him. The weight of him feels like a relief. He’s moving immediately and it’s like Patrick isn’t starting at zero but he has to work his way up to where he was. Art’s kissing him and kissing him and kissing him all while squirming in his lap and just when Patrick is back… when he’s riding the knifes edge of orgasm desperate to fall over…that’s when Art stops him again.

“Fuck me,” Patrick groans loudly resting his forehead against Art’s. “Are you fucking serious?” He says breathlessly, helplessly.

“Mm actually I think I wanna be on the bed, my knees hurt.” Art says getting to his feet. He’s the devil actually.

Patrick sighs and flops back on the ground, more sexually frustrated than he’s ever been. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

[detective-giggles]

Better With You

Hi @marjansmarwani!! I have an exchange fic for you!  I really wasn’t sure which prompt to do and even debated trying to combine prompts 2 & 3, but in the end the hurt/comfort prompt won out. In a convenient 3+1 format! :)  I hope you enjoy! @chaotictarlos: thank you for the beta and helping me when I got stuck! @noxsoulmate: thank you for helping me brainstorm!

******

1.

Carlos doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know this is gonna be a bad day. His head feels like it’s going to explode, and he can’t quite see straight.  

He stumbles into the kitchen and manages to start some coffee before slumping on the couch to wait.

That’s where TK finds him an hour later, having not moved to get the coffee he started, breathing heavily as he tries to fight against the nausea that’s been rising in his stomach since he sat down.

“Babe?” Concerned, TK sits next to him and cradles his face in his hands, no doubt checking for a fever. 

“‘M okay,” Carlos murmurs, waving TK’s hands away but the gesture is weak. “Migraine,” he explains. “I just need a few more minutes; then I’ll get up.” 

“Let’s get you back to bed. I’ll reschedule the appointments,” TK offers. 

“Maybe that’s a good idea.” He sighs, they have meetings with the bakery and a florist today. He doesn’t want to disappoint TK, but he knows he can’t handle leaving the apartment this afternoon. They’ve had this appointment set up with the bakery for weeks, he hopes she can accommodate a different date.

“Come on.” TK stands and reaches out to help Carlos up. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbles. He gets up and hurries to the bathroom.  

Carlos knows TK has seen worse, but he’s grateful that TK gives him a little privacy as he violently empties his stomach. As soon as he’s done, TK swoops in, and he feels a cool towel on the back of his neck. TK uses another one to wipe his forehead, his cheeks, and finally, his mouth. He hands him a water bottle, and Carlos rinses his mouth and takes a couple of small sips.

 “Thank you. I’m sorry,” he adds pathetically, his voice rough.

“It’s okay. Let’s get you back to bed,” TK whispers. 

Carlos stands on shaky legs, and together, they make their way back to the bedroom. 

“Take these,” TK hands him a couple of pills and the bottle of water. He swallows them obediently and then lays face down on the bed and pulls the covers over his head. He sighs, hoping the meds kick in soon so he can sleep through the worst of it. TK presses a kiss to his head and disappears to make the phone calls.

It’s mostly dark when Carlos opens his eyes again. There’s a sliver of light shining through the curtains. 

He's not quite sure how TK got the blackout curtains up without waking him, but he’s relieved. The pain in his head is better but not gone completely.

He rolls over and TK is there next to him, sitting up in bed, silently playing on his phone. 

“Hey,” he whispers. “How are you feeling, babe?”

“Still hurts, but I don’t feel sick anymore.” 

TK makes him take another sip of water, and he lays down again, resting his head against TK’s thigh. TK rubs his back and he shifts uncomfortably, unable to fall back asleep. 

“Want me to hold you?” TK asks. 

“Please.” 

“Okay,” TK agrees. He sets his phone aside before slipping under the covers. He curls his body around his fiancé, and Carlos is finally able to relax enough to fall asleep again.

2.

“Reyes!” Carlos stops dribbling the basketball and pivots toward the voice yelling his name. There’s an opening and he bounces the ball with force to his teammate. She catches it, then shoots, earning them another two points.

“Nice job!” 

He hurries over and gives Detective Jones a high-five before pausing at the benches and taking a large swig from his water bottle. 

He takes a second to peek at his phone. TK should be meeting him any time and they’ll walk home together. While he enjoys his weekly pick-up basketball game at the precinct with some of his fellow officers, he enjoys the evening walk home with TK more. 

They play for a few more minutes and he manages to make two more baskets for his team.

Having a moment to breathe between baskets, he pauses and pulls the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face, and as he does he hears a wolf whistle coming from the direction of the benches. He knows it’s TK, even without the accompanying playful teasing that comes from the guys.

Still, he looks over and smiles as TK takes a seat on the bench, ready to watch Carlos finish up his game. As he gives TK a little wave, he hears his name getting called and he turns, too late. Merely moments after he turns, his face explodes in pain.

Carlos staggers backward, and, in his daze, it takes a bit to realize the basketball is the culprit. He’s surrounded in a matter of seconds; by teammates trying to make sure he’s okay and, of course, TK. 

TK stops in front of him, trying to lead him to the bench and starting to assess the damage. A couple of officers run off to fetch ice and a towel while TK pokes at his face which doesn’t help as much as it hurts. 

He’s unsure what hurts more, his face or his pride, and he hisses in pain as TK examines him. He knows he’ll wind up swollen for a couple of days, but he just hopes nothing’s broken. 

Jones is back with the first aid kit and a clean towel, and TK uses it to wipe some of the blood off his face. 

“I don’t think your nose is broken,” TK says. “We should probably go to the hospital to be sure, though.” 

A patrol officer Carlos has worked with a few times, and the one Carlos is fairly certain threw the ball, returns with a bag of ice and offers to drive them, but he declines emphatically.

He hisses as TK presses the ice to his face. “I’m okay. It’s my fault. I should have been paying attention.”

“Instead of being distracted by your boy toy over there,” Lexi teases.

“Come on then, let’s get you home,” TK says. 

They take the ride offered by Carlos’ partner and promise to call her if they need anything. TK carries Carlos’ bag while he focuses on keeping the ice on his face, and they make their way into the elevator. 

“Sorry I distracted you, babe,” TK finally says. 

“It was my fault,” Carlos says. He settles on the sofa while TK rummages through the freezer. He finally joins Carlos on the sofa with a bag of frozen vegetables, and Carlos would laugh if he wasn’t sure it would hurt so much. 

TK just shrugs, “it’s softer than ice cubes. It’ll work.”

Carlos doesn’t care at this point, if it helps his face from swelling up and the pain is some of the worst that he’s ever felt - he’ll take it. He lays down, settling his head in TK’s lap, and TK gently places the bag of veggies on his face. 

“They’re not going to let you live this down, are they?”

“Not anytime soon,” Carlos admits.

3.

Carlos sits at the edge of the bed and pouts. He desperately wishes he was at home in his own bed, with TK’s arms around him. 

Instead, he’s all alone in the ER waiting for the doctor to return and finish his stitches - which is taking longer than he would like for it to.  

He wonders if his partner has called TK, or if that’s been left for him to do himself when they release him. He hopes that someone called TK and told him what was going on, with how slow the doctor was going he’s definitely going to be late for dinner and he doesn’t want TK to worry.

He’s nauseous and Carlos knows that’s a bad sign. He groans and his fingers lightly brush the plastic emesis bag the nurse had left for him before leaving him alone for a few minutes for the local anesthetic to kick in. He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths hoping that will help calm his stomach and when he opens them again TK’s standing just inside the curtain.

“Oh, babe,” TK crosses the small space between them and wraps his arms around Carlos.  

Carlos knows the look he’s getting from TK well. TK’s eyes and hands frantically roam over his body as he checks for any additional injuries that the doctors might have missed. TK never believes that Carlos is okay until he checks him out for himself.  

“I’m okay,” Carlos insists. “Just a little bump on the head.”

TK evaluates the wound on Carlos’ forehead. “I’m thinking that’s going to take at least five stitches, Carlos, that’s not nothing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I was serving papers and I don’t even know what happened.”

“You don’t know or you don’t remember?” TK frowns and he knows he should mention the concussion but instead Carlos just shrugs.

TK gives a little sigh as he hugs Carlos tightly. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you. I feel better now that you’re here.”

“You big softie,” TK teases.

“How does it feel to be on that side of the exam table?” Carlos asks.

“Not good,” TK murmurs. “I hate seeing you hurting.”

TK steps back as a nurse joins them, setting out everything they’ll need for the stitches. 

“Why are you sitting up, Mr. Reyes?” The nurse gently guides him so he’s settled back in the bed. “The doctor will be right in, and then we’ll get you checked in,” he says.

“You’re admitting him?” TK asks, surprised and he turns to look at Carlos. “What didn’t you tell me? Did you lose consciousness?”

“Twice,” the nurse chirps. “Once on scene and once in my ER.”

“Carlos!”

“I’m fine,” he insists. 

TK opens his mouth, likely to protest, when the doctor walks in. TK doesn’t argue, but slides to the head of the bed and sits, slipping his hand into Carlos’ for comfort.  He stays silent while the doctor stitches up Carlos’ forehead. It’s a quick affair and it doesn’t hurt the way Carlos expects it to, but Carlos squeezes TK’s hand the whole time.

“They’re almost ready for you upstairs, officer. We’ll keep you overnight for observation and do another CT scan in the morning.” The nurse pushes in a wheelchair and Carlos sighs.

“Another CT? How hard were you hit?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbles. He clumsily slides off the bed and TK steadies him until he gets settled in the wheelchair whispering something about hospital policy.

“I’ll call your parents and then I’ll be up.” Carlos gives a half-nod, even though he really doesn’t want to be alone. 

It takes longer for him to change and climb into bed than he thought it would. Getting comfortable is a joke, but he tries to relax and wait for TK. He doesn’t have to wait long, however, TK joins him in minutes. 

“Tell me a story,” Carlos says, closing his eyes. 

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t walk to talk. I like hearing your voice,” Carlos explains.  

“Okay,” TK says. He joins Carlos in the bed that’s not really big enough for two, and talks.

+1

Carlos’ radio crackles to life.

“RA 126… We need APD assistance in the kitchen.” It’s Tommy’s voice, calm as always. He can vaguely make out Nancy’s voice in the background but she doesn’t sound as calm.  

He grabs another officer’s attention, a rookie, and turns him back toward the residence they had just cleared.

“Go,” he orders. He draws his firearm, holding it at a low ready, and follows him into the house.  The new officer stops suddenly, just past the threshold of the kitchen, and Carlos would have bumped into him if he hadn’t been on high alert.

Just past the rookie, he sees Nancy and Tommy kneeling - TK lying in a pool of blood between them.  

“Dude came up the basement stairs,” Nancy says, not taking her eyes off TK. “He had a knife.” She jerks her head towards the open screen door. “Went out the back.”

Carlos whips around, stepping towards the other officer. “I thought you cleared the basement?” he asks.

“I-I-I did!” He insists, taking a step away from a very angry Carlos.

Carlos cocks his head to the side and steps towards him, backing him against the counter. He sees Tommy coming towards them in his peripherals, but keeps his focus on the young officer. “You did? Then why is my husband-”

“Carlos!” Tommy’s hand is on his shoulder, gently pulling him back. “Let your sergeant deal with him.” Carlos glances to the side and sees TK reaching for him, despite Nancy’s efforts to keep him still.  

He turns back towards the rookie. “Get back up and search the area.” 

“Yes, sir.” Carlos steps aside and the younger officer hurries past, shouting into his radio. 

“TK?” Carlos turns and kneels at TK’s side, smoothing his hair back and caressing his cheek softly. Up close, it looks worse than he thought, but TK is moving and talking and laughing at him, so he hopes it’s not life-threatening.

“You were really giving him the business,” TK chuckles. 

“He had one job, TK, keeping you three safe.”

“Two outta three isn’t bad,” TK jokes. “Besides, I’ll be okay.”

“You always are.”

Carlos watches anxiously as Nancy and Tommy load TK onto a stretcher, prepping him for transport. 

“You coming?” Tommy asks. 

TK chuckles again. “That’s a dumb question. Of course, he is. I need him. He’s always here when I need him.”  Carlos follows Tommy and climbs into the ambulance.

The ride to the hospital takes ages and yet, in no time, TK is being ripped away from him and whisked up to surgery, and Carlos is shuttled to the waiting room with the rest of the 126. He tries to collapse into a chair but Paul stops him and pulls him into the bathroom, helping him wash the blood from his hands. 

He sits and waits, paces and waits, but mostly waits. 

“Mr. Reyes-Strand?”

“Yes?” Carlos jumps up. “Is he-”

“Surgery went well. He’s awake and asking for you.” Carlos sighs with relief and hurries down the hallway. “He needs to rest, but you can have a few minutes with him.”

Carlos agrees and before he steps into the room, he can see TK’s already reaching for him. 

“See, babe, I told you I’d be okay.”

“You did,” Carlos laughs and sniffles. “Are you in any pain?”

“A fair amount,” TK admits. 

Carlos starts to pull away. “I’ll grab the doctor.”

TK keeps a tight grip on his hand. “Later. Right now, all I want is you.”

Carlos nods. He sits on the edge of the bed as best he can, and holds his husband.

[it-was-funeral-grey]

Somebody else (Ghost x F!Reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Simon didn't think he'd ever see her again, but here she was. With somebody else.

Warnings: Breakup, alcohol, mentions of kissing, hugging, allusions to sex, mentions of playfighting, public marriage proposal

Word count: <1k

Inspired by: Somebody else - The 1975

"I'm looking through you while you're looking through your phone, and then leaving with somebody else."

Author's note: First time posting on tumblr and writing!

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

After things ended with her, Simon left the city she stayed in. Well, 'left' is an understatement. He had evacuated the place in record time, leaving her on the cold sidewalk that winter evening.

(He left you there. He didn't even look back. It was the coldest day of the year, yet it felt like nothing compared to the coldness he had shown.)

He had abandoned all the things he left in her apartment. It took her months to find the willpower to finally throw them out.

(But you kept the ring he made you. Deep down, you know that you will always be waiting for him to come back. You will never stop hoping.)

The bar is quiet tonight, and Simon counts it as a small mercy. Being forced on break was bad enough. What made it worse was that he was taking a break in this damn city.

("No, Simon!" yelled Price. "It's been a whole two years since you've gotten rest! Go home!"

Simon doesn't want to. When he's on a mission, he doesn't think of her. But alas, he can't go against a direct order from Price.)

Simon was horrified when he found out that Price had arranged for his accommodation in this city. He doesn't blame the man - Price doesn't know about her, only knowing that Simon had nowhere to stay for the time being.

("It's a nice city. Quiet for the most part," Price describes. "You should buy a house there. Speaking of which, why did you sell your old place?"

Ah, right. Simon had told Price that he sold his house. Lies. He had lived with her, and that's where his heart still is, still in her apartment, still in her hands, still hers. Forever hers.)

Simon sits in the dark corner of the bar, half a glass of bourbon in, fighting the urge to call her. He knows he shouldn't. She probably wouldn't give him the time of day, and he thinks that's perfectly understandable. He doesn't deserve the opportunity to talk to her again, not after he had left her like that. But even if it's to cuss him out, he wants to hear her voice.

His eyes are staring holes into his phone as if staring at the picture on her contact profile would magically conjure her in front of him.

("NO! Don't use that photo! I look weird!", she had protested, trying to pry the phone out of her boyfriend's hands.

"All the more reason to use it.", Simon replies, lifting his hands up, smirking at her attempts to jump and snatch it away.

"Si! No!"

The sounds of laughter fill the small apartment, as the two of you playfight in the living room.

Simon would give up anything to be able to relive that day again.)

He doesn't hear the bar door open. But he does hear the sound of her laughter.

Simon's head snaps up so fast he almost gets whiplash. His eyes scan the bar, looking for the source of the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

She was here.

She looked beautiful.

She was laughing so hard that she nearly rolled onto the floor, her smile so wide and her eyes pressed shut. Pure, undiluted joy was radiating from her, and it was contagious.

For a second, Simon is happy again. He allows his imagination to draw a pretty fantasy for him. In his imagination, she's here to meet him, to welcome him back after a long and dangerous mission. She'd have tears of joy in her eyes as she wraps her arms around him, and he'll bend down to kiss her. They'll have a nice dinner here at the bar before going home and trying to give each other two years' worth of pleasure in one night.

"Will you marry me?"

Four words and Simon awakes from his daydream and is reminded by the new sight before him how painfully different things are in reality.

Behind her, down on one knee is a man holding a ring box. She snaps around and would have noticed Simon if she weren't so entranced by the man kneeling for her.

"Oh my god! Yes!"

Applause erupts from the few patrons of the bar, and one of them starts a cheer:

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

And the newly engaged couple obliges, leaning into each other and finally -

Simon rushes out of the bar before he could witness it. Here, on a quiet sidewalk in the winter evening, Simon's heart shatters.

If only Simon had watched just a little bit longer. Just long enough to see her lover slip the beautiful engagement ring onto her left ring finger.

From where he sat, he probably would have seen a familiar ring on her index finger.

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[sarasa-cat]

Feeling behind on EVERYTHING thanks to probably-almost-definitely COVID recovery.

If left to my own devices, I sleep for 13.5 hours all in one go, just dead to the world oh so dead, not waking up for anything. That makes fitting everything else in a little bit difficult.

All that is really left is:

a. Managing the inflammation from low-grade viral-induced asthma which is definitely a thing I have experience with and do not enjoy.

b. Giving my body whatever time it needs to recover which means if sleep is what is on the menu during the best weather of the year (where I am) well, fml, but that is how it is gonna be.

In short, I'm going to be a bit flaky with being online for the rest of this month. Sometimes I will be VERY online as in EXCEEDINGLY online, and then other days I'll be making the best of what time I have to keep Life/Work/Shit moving forward and will probably seem like a ghost.

Low-grade viral induced asthma talk will commence here:

So, it is really simple: many different kinds of viruses can set off viral-induced asthmatic swelling of the airways. After the virus is long dead, the swelling persists. Fun times. 🙃

Normally, these days, if I am in a micro-climate that is dry enough** (I'm not talking desert bone dry, although I do like it, but just Not Perpetually Damp And Moldy), I just let all of my asthma medications expire at the bottom of an overstuffed medical-junk drawer in the bathroom. The only thing I take daily is a cocktail of OTC allergies meds.

When viruses attack --- as in the common cold, flu, etc. --- I dust those bad boys off and get on top of things as fast as possible while also making a point of AVOIDING ANY kind of irritating particulate air pollution that will set it off or make it worse. Cheap wet wood smoke? Neighbor's stank-ass BBQ? Get that shit outta my life.

The better course of action is the slow and boring kind: cancel the next 3 weeks of activities and just let it calm down with inhaled corticosteroids. But, if things get really bad or I am desperate need of immediate relief because my schedule cannot accommodate 3 weeks of doing very little followed by 2 more weeks of regaining my prior-to-attack aerobic stamina, I just break the glass and pop open the steroid step-down pack. Fast and effective, but annoying side effects can also occur.

Right now I have decided that things aren't bad enough for the BIG GUNS and that I can (grumbling grumbling grumbling) sorta afford to be on my ass for 3 weeks. But hooboy, I am not having a good time of it. (Oh, and that, that upcoming 10k fundraiser I had originally planned on staggering through? my participation is entirely, completely, no questions asked cancelled).

What I really want to do is just sit outside in a hot and dry place and let my whole body dry out. You might laugh but I am not joking about the power of that speeding things up. Unfortunately, despite it being august and living in a place that is definitely feeling the effects of global warming, it doesn't get hot enough here to be bathing suit weather under the baking hot sun. But, taking a picnic blanket+basket and a sketchbook to spread out under a tree in a park does sound like a good idea for tomorrow and Saturday (while dressed in long pants, t-shirt, and light cotton sweater).

Anyhow, for now I am taking the SLOW recovery route because I don't have anything forcing me to wage hardcore steroidal warfare on my body, which is precisely what the prednisone does.

But that means I will be flaky because my time is constrained. Some days I'll just say "fuck it" and have a sick day in bed with my laptop or phone and I'll be exceedingly online. Other days I'll make the best of the time I have to do all the adulting that still needs to be done by me, to get actual work done, or to make careful use of energy to (at this pace) inch-worm my way through the epic KonMari of various shit in my house & home-office/studio that needs to be organized.

This is really annoying and not how I planned on spending my august --- which is actually my favorite month of the year! But, oh well. OH WELL.

oh well.

[luke-r-gillespie]

May 28 - Himeji-jo

Freewriting

I woke up at 8 this morning, took my quiz and grabbed my breakfast bento on my way out the door. I quickly walked to our morning class meeting in the pouring rain (which will remain a constant theme throughout today's blog) before we all departed for Himeji-jo (Himeji Castle.) Luckily, the train rides to Himeji weren't too bad, despite them taking more than two hours collectively (which is more than any other day trip so far.) After arriving in Himeji, it was already noon and still pouring down rain so we broke for lunch inside the station. I ate some ramen which was pretty good for the price (I am trying to stick to Japanese food for the last few days that it is readily available to me.)

After lunch we left the station and began our trek to Himeji-jo in a torrential downpour. Within 3 minutes of being outside, I was soaked to the bone (despite the best efforts of my 7/11 umbrella.) The rain and wind were coming down so hard that they ripped one of my classmates umbrellas off of its spokes. Arriving at the castle's entrance, it was clear why we had travelled such a distance to get here, it was an architectural marvel.

Had it not been for the weather, I think I would have really enjoyed this excursion but the harsh conditions (and the actual pools of water that were at the bottoms of my shoes) made it a little difficult to enjoy myself. Jeans and a T-shirt was clearly not the right wardrobe choice for the day. While at the castle, we visited Sen Hime's room (a well known and revered daughter of an ancient Japanese shogun) as well as other points of interest within the castle. Our exploration of the castle lead us to its top floor, which offered a breathtaking view of Himeji (despite the unfavorable viewing conditions.)

Our final stop at Himeji-jo was an infamous well where a servant was thrown to her death for breaking (or being accused of breaking) a single plate. Legend has it that if your quiet enough, you can still hear her counting up the castle's plates, only to stop at nine out of ten every time.)

Leaving the castle, we retread the deceptively long walk back to the station in the rain before beginning our journey back. The 3 hour journey back from Himeji to Stay SAKURA was brutal, sitting on the train in my soaking wet clothes for such an extended period was extremely uncomfortable. The hot shower after I finally arrived back home, was both life saving and rejuvenating. After resting up for a little, I went to a little dinner place around the corner with Griffin and Rich that was really good.

(We ate more than just this omelet but we scarfed it down so fast that I forgot to take a photo.)

I think the plan for the rest of the night is some guys night karaoke which should be a lot of fun!

Academic Reflection

Today's first reading discussed the role of Japan's Daimyo's in the expansions of castle towns within their domains. Despite widely held historic misconceptions, Daimyo's actually allowed for the peasants and citizens of their castle towns to develop and expand. The Daimyo's would often provide frameworks or assistance when needed, but their role in expansion was dissimilar to their European counterparts who often dominated how their domains would be expanded. The Daimyo of castle towns were often so accommodating that they would be willing to move farms or temples to better fit commoner districts.

Today's second reading focused on the construction of castles in Japan, with a focus on their militaristic applications. Unlike European fortresses of the same era, Japanese castles were built on large hills and mountains, with the walls rising only to the level of the natural landscape. This allowed for varied elevations and easier construction while still allowing the castle to be easily defendable. This was most apparent to me today at Himeji-jo with the various gates and drop offs spanning the castle grounds. The battle of Nagashino had a large impact on the construction of Japanese castles. Most notably, it highlighted the strength of gunner fortifications as the simple musketeer fortifications present at this battle had a major impact on the outcome.

[an-aura-about-you]

It's probably worth talking about the No-Buy Year I've been attempting for myself since the start of October since I spent a good part of yesterday looking at a townhouse that I would very much like to live in. Got long so under the cut.

I had been suggested the youtube channel The Financial Diet after they did an interview with Dan from Folding Ideas about his video on NFTs, and I started watching their videos and liking what I see. (It is always so refreshing to see anything finance focused talk about wage stagnation and how it's not the individual's fault that things are so much more expensive and we're so much more broke now.) It's from this channel's guest spots with Hannah from The Beautiful Budget that I learned about the concept of a No-Buy Year.

The idea that I took with me was to cut out most of my extraneous spending for a year. If I didn't need it, and I didn't need it right away, I wasn't going to buy it. No overstocking on things or buying something new to try if I had a perfectly good equivalent at home. I had in mind allowing myself some pleasures because every life should have some, but that's along the lines of going out for a coffee once a week or getting takeout, and I made a coffee budget for myself in the form of a gift card and made a rule that if I got takeout I would put some money in my savings at the same time.

And then, the same month I decided I was going to start my No-Buy Year, I started having trouble walking on my right leg. I went to the doctor and the x-rays showed that some of the screws from my original surgery 10 years ago had broken.

And suddenly I was reliant on expensive grocery delivery and frequent takeout because I couldn't cook for myself and couldn't necessarily count on others to be present when I was hungry.

I do not count this as a slip because, quite frankly, we all need to eat. I tried to make it count as much as I could every time I ordered, though. I remember one time I ordered from a place that makes a soup I really like and got like a quart of it with the rest of my food. It was initially pricey, but no more so than if I had ordered two meals from the get-go, and the meal I ordered combined with the soup lasted for a total of six meals.

But even with all of this going on, something started happening to my buying mindset. Now that I've recovered enough that I can cook again, I am thinking more about my food choices and not buying extra food that could potentially sit and rot in my fridge. I started a Never Buy Again list of foods and things that I keep thinking might be good but I never end up liking or using them. And I'm already seeing the effect this is having on my grocery bill in a good way.

The surgery also made me think about where I live, which is Not Great for my bad leg, and the things I wanted to do to change the place. And I started ping-ponging the idea around of what would be best for me, what would be most cost effective for me, what can I do to improve my situation?

Not for the first time since the Pandemic started, I began looking at houses on Zillow to see if there was anything more accommodating.

And that's when I found the townhouse I'm thinking about getting. It already has the things I wanted to put in my house anyway, there would be maintenance for things I just don't have the ability to take care of, and it's not on a fuck-off steep hill like the house I currently live in. If I wanted to stay where I am now, I would seriously have to consider things like landscaping, ramps, redoing my floors, and redoing my bathrooms. This place already has all of that done and ready for me.

So I'm thinking that my No-Buy Year is shifting more into a Marie Kondo Year. What are the things that spark joy for me? This townhouse is going to be able to help with my needs in a way my current living situation doesn't, and that definitely sparks joy. Not to mention I am ready to get some stuff out of this house that I'm not using, stuff that's just sitting here going to waste.

On top of all of that, it's very possible that selling my house will result in more money than what the townhouse costs. While I would indeed be buying, it might end up being a net positive for me. Granted, I'll probably use any extra money I might end up having to cover the costs of moving, but I think this is moving in the right direction.

[daryldixonsdoormat]

Omfg I remember a southern accent thingy with Daryl and because it’s 2:03 am I’m writing it RIGHT NOW. YEA. Sorry for any bad grammar. Just finished this at 3:00

People struggled understanding my strong southern accent but Daryl and Merle had no problem at the camp. Sometimes even translating some terms to the rest of the group when they are feeling particularly nice. Of course throughout the year, my way of talking diminished slightly, growing more accommodated to the way the group talks. But it’s easier to fall into old talking habits when you feel safe and comfortable behind Alexandria’s walls. Daryl and I fell in love a little before terminus, spending days maybe even weeks together alone definitely did a number.

Alexandria made it easier, everything was better now and I’m getting back into the way I used to talk. Daryl is loving it, a little too much. Daryl brings dog back after camping out in the woods not looking for anything in particular maybe some food at most. (Rick is alive). Dog absolutely adores Daryl and is a fairly clingy dog from the looks of it, I couldn’t help myself when he trotted over to me. “Well aren’t you precious” I look up at Daryl who is smirking down at the Dog. “Well what’s its name D?” Daryl shrugs obviously not putting much thought to it. “Hell if I know. Dog?”. I snort at the ridiculous name and stand up from my crouching position. “We’ll Dog here is panting. I’m sweating more than a hooker in church myself so let’s go home”. Daryl’s eyes widen at the unexpected and very southern remark. Something he hasn’t heard from me in years upon years. “Whatdya say?” He asks from behind me. “I said the Dog is panting Daryl. It’s hot out here”. What’s the big deal? If anything Daryl should be wanting to run inside where the air is cool. “That’s not what you said sunshine” I shrug and peer over my shoulder to see him smiling at the back of my head.

The next time he ‘caught me’ was when I was babysitting Judith. Her parents where out on a run and I offered to babysit knowing how well Daryl and Judith get along. My mistake here was forgetting to tell Daryl. He walks into the house with a struggle, dropping the house key and slamming the door behind him unintentionally. If his entry couldn’t get any worse while he was attempting to kick of his boots he starts losing his balance and nearly tips over. Then the words spew out of his mouth hushed but apparently not hushed enough. “goddamn stupid ass boots and that motherfuck-“ he’s cut right off as soon as I hear. “Daryl don’t be ugly. Judith is here” I say through gritted teeth and Daryl doesn’t look far from confused when looking at Judith. Judith is still in her “toddler” phase and is being disobedient as can be. Daryl is getting fed up rightfully so, “Judith you keep on your gonna be put in the corner”. Judith reacts poorly, she runs across the house and starts yelling gibberish at Daryl. His face goes red and he’s standing in the middle of the living room aggravated. I stand and grab his shoulders beckoning him to look at me. “ you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Don’t ya sugar?” Daryl is absolutely smitten.

He’s trying to convince the crowd to help redirect the quarry of walkers that soon would cause problems for Alexandria. Everyone knew that these people haven’t been outside the walls ever and aren’t planning to risk their lives for the sake of no one. The people are unconvinced. Daryl is sitting beside me on a log a few feet away from the fire much like the other people at the meeting. His hand is gripping immune getting frustrated by how many selfish people they’re are. How unwilling they are to protect other people especially those he loves. ‘Going after those walkers will do no good’ that comment is followed by murmurs of agreement throughout the crowd. Daryl rubs his face with his vacant hand and opens his mouth. I lean up to his ear, “your preaching to the choir there babe”. Daryl can’t stop his smile, he turns his face now he speaking to me. “Your damn near driving me insane darlin”. I hum seductively our voices low enough for only us to hear. “Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Good”

“Judging by the way your looking at me Daryl Dixon, I’d say you want to jump my bones”. His hand separates from mine and sits on my inner thigh. “You’d be right”.

[angry-geese]

For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

[mountswhore]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

[spideytingle616]

Laundry Day | P.P.

18+ only

Main Masterlist // Ao3 Version

Pairing: Roommate!Peter Parker x Female Reader

Summary: Pink, lacy, and in his pile… how could he not be curious?

Word Count: 2K 

Warnings: swearing, snoopy Peter, underwear, overuse of italics, and overall smutty themes/situations (Peter and reader are both 18+ and in college)

A/N: Why… do I do the things I do? I remember seeing either a dark Chris Evans or Steve Rogers blurb with a similar idea, but Tumblr crashed before I saw the user :((( I’ll tag it if I ever see it again (or if someone finds it for me), but until then enjoy. Cheers to my first smutty fic ever lol, maybe there’ll be a part two…

Alright, so maybe getting an apartment with his best friend and secret crush was a bad idea, but at the time he didn’t think much of it. Before college, you were always at one another’s places, and the two of you were always sleeping over. He really didn’t think sharing a place would be all that different.

But having a place that you considered actually yours, and not your family’s, has made you much more comfortable and relaxed.

More specifically, you’ve been much more comfortable wearing less.

Obviously, Peter didn’t mind. It was your place just as much as his, and you have been more than accommodating toward his hectic Spider-Man schedule. And if you were okay with wearing some boy shorts or just a bra on top, he was okay with admitting he rather enjoyed the view.

Not that he was always looking. He only lets himself check you out less than half of the time.

… okay maybe a little more than half. The point is, it’s not all the time.

The day started off normal, with the sun peeking out between the clouds. Peter was out in the living room doing homework, more or less confident in his answers. Who knew organic chemistry was such a bitch?

“I’m going out to study with MJ,” you announce, entering from the hallway. “I should be back later tonight. If you want, I could grab some Thai on my way back.”

Peter shrugs. “I could do Thai. Might make this work a little more bearable, to be honest,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I need some comfort food too. Maybe if I flirt with them, they’ll give us some extra noodles.” You slip your jacket on. “Oh, by the way, could you do me a favor?”

The question where it all went wrong. It was too dangerous; he should have said no. There were too many risks.

“Could you pick up my clothes from the dryer? I didn’t get a chance to yet and I don’t wanna keep MJ waiting.”

He nods. “Sure, mine should be done soon anyway.”

“Thanks a ton, dude. You’re the best. I’ll see you later.”

Peter sends you a wave as he continues to stare into his laptop’s blue-lighted abyss. He does this for another two hours before he realizes that he’s done absolutely nothing. He shuts his laptop with a groan, closing his eyes as he slumps back on the couch. If he looked at one more carbon molecule, he swears his brain will explode.

Maybe he should just do something else instead, something productive that’ll keep his head (somewhat) straight.

Might as well do the laundry, because what can go wrong with that?

Peter heads to the basement and unloads his clothes into the laundry basket. It only fills up about two-thirds of the way, so he decides to just throw your stuff on top of his to save a trip.

Smart idea, right? 

He takes the basket to his room, still not motivated enough to do his homework. At this point, he should just keep going and put his clothes away. And with yours at the top, along with the fact that you’re bringing home takeout, he’ll just fold your clothes too. It’s the nice thing to do.

Peter sits down on his bed and begins folding your sweaters. He makes sure to be extra neat with them, folding it exactly like May showed him all those years ago. She’d probably cry if she saw him right now: he hated doing laundry as a kid.

He sets them into a nice stack and turns back toward the rest of the clothes, grabbing the shirt that was now on top. 

And that’s when Peter sees it.

A thong. A baby pink, lace thong, right on top of the basket.

Peter’s eyes widen. For a small amount of fabric, it sure got his attention. A wave of guilt floods his head. Hopefully, you remembered that you had such skimpy underwear in the wash before you asked him to grab your laundry.

He continues to stare, which makes Peter feel even more guilty. Even if you were okay with him grabbing your clothes, you probably didn’t mean it was okay for him to gawk at it.

He thinks for a moment; should he just… leave it there? It seems like the right thing to do, but his all of his clothes are beneath your underwear, so he’ll have to touch it eventually. And who knows if that’s the only one.

Fuck, is most of your underwear like this?

The thought makes him spiral. Guilt no longer clouded his mind, too busy thinking of what you looked like in your underwear. Peter pictures you wearing the lace under all those pretty sundresses you loved to wear in the summer, and beneath those short skirts that you wore in the fall.

He wonders if it was a matching set as he thinks of how you would look with a dainty, pink push up bra. As if your chest needed any help to look as amazing as it did. He could see the outline of them under those old t-shirts you wear to bed, and that was enough for the boy to get his radioactive blood going.

Oh shit.

Peter looks down to check- yep, he’s rock hard under his sweats.

It only comes as a slight shock to him; even when you walked around in those tight boy shorts that gave him the exact shape of your ass, he would only get a semi at most. And after five or so minutes, he was able to focus away from your butt and be fine for the rest of the night.

But this isn’t going away anytime soon, he’s fucking throbbing.

The guilt tries to resurface as he decides what to do. He checks the time; he still had another hour or so before you came back. If he did do anything, he would be good and done well before you returned. It’s not like you’d find out.

Plus, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s thought of you.

The door was already closed, and it was now or never. He lays down on his bed and blinks a few extra times, each one a quick reality check.

This was harmless. Private.

Peter bucks his hips up as he tugs his pants down to his mid-thigh. He keeps his boxers on, not quite ready to go all in. He’s got to ease in, and not in that way (well actually, kind of in that way).

His eyes close as he sucks in a slow breath. He rests his left hand on his leg as his right trails down on his stomach and to the elastic band of his underwear. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, still fiddling with the stretchy material.

After a moment or two, Peter’s hand finally sinks lower and cups his member, and fuck, it already feels good. He continues to palm himself through his underwear and lets out a sigh of relief. His thumb pokes out to touch his tip, and immediately his hips thrust forward to meet the subtle pressure.

He slows himself down as his mind came back to you and those goddamn panties. Were they for special occasions only? How often did you wear them?

Have you ever touched yourself when you wore them?

The idea causes a low groan from his chest, making him ditch his boxers. Pulling them down to meet his sweats, his cock springs straight to his stomach, red and needy. With a deep sigh, his pace speeds up as he continued his fantasy.

Peter pictures you on your bed, with nothing but that on. You bite your lips before they part, now wet and shiny with your spit. Your hair was slightly messy, and he could see your eyes were wide and glassy, desperate for a release.

Your hand trails down to your pubic bone, and just like Peter you play with the lace. Maybe you twiddle with the pink bow at the top too; he’d like to think you did.

The other hand paths around your chest and stops between your breasts. You cup one of your boobs gently and brush your thumb against your hardening nipple, eliciting a breathless moan before quickly switching to the other one.

His hand tugs harder. Your moans probably sounded like a melody; he’d do anything to hear them right in his ears. Needy noises that begged for more. Something harder, faster, rougher.

Eventually, you wouldn’t be able to handle the teasing. You were always impatient, the idea of waiting killing you every time. It was amusing to watch, but if you were his, he would be merciless. He’d purposely deny your pleas just to teach you a lesson.

He imagines you tugging and kicking your underwear off in a hurry, ready to fuck yourself into pure bliss.

That’s when Peter stops himself, a naughty idea developing. He props himself up with his elbows and stares at the laundry basket, your underwear still on top, clear as day.

No… no he couldn’t do that. That was too far.

But when your dick was as angry and hungry as Peter’s right now, your morality starts to crack a little. Enough to make a bad decision or two.

People lose socks in the wash all the time… surely it could happen to a thong too.

He quickly sits up and snatches your underwear. If he went any slower, he would have surely stopped himself and regretted even thinking of such an idea. Yet right now, he so badly wanted to do this, even if it was extremely perverted.

It was a lot softer than Peter expected, the non-lace areas feeling almost silky to the touch. With his heightened scenes, the scent of your lavender detergent envelops his nose and calms his rapid heartbeat.

He tries to cover as much of his hand as he could, but with the shape and limited fabric, it only covers half of it. Still, it’s more than enough for him and his dirty thoughts as he starts to rub himself again, tending to his aching member.

The feeling is slightly strange at first. He could tell where his soft hand met the rougher lace and cotton. It doesn’t glide as easily as usual, but it’s nothing problematic. At least not for a pathetically horny Peter.

His head lulls back in pleasure, turning his fantasy back on. Your chest is lifting off your bed as your fingers rubbed against your clit feverishly. You were absolutely soaking at this point, your core clenching down hard. You desperately wanted to be filled up with something, or someone, but you weren’t going to waste time with that. Fingers were enough to get you where you needed to be, collecting the slick from your needy hole before touching yourself again.

Your legs started to draw closer together, a sign that you were about to come. The circular movements on your clit become rougher and sloppier as your jaw goes slack. Fuck, you were so close.

Peter was too. His breaths became shallow as his muscles became tighter. He can feel the lace furiously rubbing against him and it drives him fucking crazy. The idea of coming all over your nice panties was sending him over the edge.

He hears you moaning his name as you finish, legs shaking at the wave of euphoria.

“Peter, Peter, Peter…”

“-Peter?!”

He stops, eyes wide and hand still on his cock.

That last one was not in his head.

[gabessquishytum]

The 99th percentile office au - I AM FERAL The 🍃 and 🦒 anons are you are so smart for this, especially the part where Hob is just Horny with a capital H for pregnant Dream.

Obviously, he was horny for him before. That wasn’t a secret, but now Dream’s pregnant and he’s practically glowing and smells so sweetly - what is Hob supposed to do?

It’s worse with the second pregnancy, because now he doesn’t get a couple of months to get used to the fact, no: since Dream is more or less showing immediately, he’s just constantly reminded, that he. Did THAT. He knocked Dream up. And everyone can see.

Obviously, since having two giant babies inside of him this time, Dream can’t keep working from the office for too long. Though he keeps up as much of his work as he can from home. Which is great, because Hob and Baby #1 love having him around, but on the other hand it means, Hob can’t escape the horny thoughts, not even for a minute.

Dreams feet hurt, so he massages them, because he’s a good husband. Dream moans and sighs when Hob hits a good spot and Hob’s brain turns into horny mush.

He preps lunch and snacks for his husband and - oh no - Dream is craving pickles. That’s cliché enough, but does he have to suck on them? Hob’s pretty sure he can come in his pants.

Dream feeds their little one before they put them down for a nap, and some milf spilt onto the maternity bra. Hob’s basically drooling.

Before bed, Dream asks him if he could rub some oil on the stretch marks on his belly and of course he does. It’s good that he has to take a shower anyway, because he definitely just wet his briefs with pre from the softness of Dream’s skin and the marks he will most likely carry with him always, that Hob put there.

Oh, and there is the donut Dream out on their bed. Just a regular ol’ inflatable donut for the pool, cushioned with blankets and pillows, for Dream to lay down on to give his poor lower back a rest. It’s a perfectly reasonable set-up, but for Hob it’s pure torture, because Dream is on his stomach, pretty arse in the air, the perfect high for Hob to just… fuck into him…

He tries to sneak away to have a wank because he can’t do this to Dream. His husband is working so hard growing their babies, he’s already so exhausted all the time- Hob really needs to stop being so horny all the time. Unfortunately, Dream calls him back for a back rub…

Dream, of course, knows what Hob wanted to do and he sure as hell won’t let him. He might be exhausted, but he’s just as horny. And as long as he doesn’t have to do any work, Hob is welcome to just fuck him as often as he pleases.

Love, 💄

Dream with twin babies is a drug and we're all inhaling it together <333

Obviously Hob is doing his best to be a good husband because those are HIS giant babies sitting on Dream’s poor bladder. He does all the heavy lifting with baby #1 who thankfully has Hob’s chilled out temperament and looooves to sleep - Hob carries the lil one in a sack on his chest while he's doing chores, occasionally passing the baby off to Dream for feeding or cuddles. Having the kiddo to pay attention to at least distracts him from his horniness for half a second.

But the rest of the time? Hob is struggling. Dick constantly at half chub. Underwear constantly stained with pre. He takes a look at Dream relaxing on the sofa, legs spread to accommodate his belly, and its like an immediate K.O for Hob. He's dead, all his blood is rushing south. He feels so bad!! Dream is growing two entire sets of organs and all Hob can think about is his dick!!

Meanwhile Dream is just nonplussed because like. He's horny too?? Hob isn't the only one with a pregnancy kink around here! Hob might not be able to see it (in fairness, there's a lot of belly in the way) but Dream is constantly soaking through his maternity panties. Hell, when he's in bed he's not even bothering to wear panties anymore - his vibrating wand is constantly on charge by the bed so Dream can grab it and give himself a quick orgasm when Hob is too busy house-husbanding to attend to him.

It's much better when Hob can do the work, though. When baby 1 is napping, Dream is quite happy to lumber up and pull Hob off for a quickie. Being fucked from behind is pretty much the only option these days, but it's all the sweeter because Hob can wrap his arms around Dream’s belly, giving him some much needed support with all that weight.

Let's not even go into the dirty talk... you can bet that Dream can absolutely make Hob cum nearly untouched, just talking about how well he's knocked him up and how he can't wait to do it all over again next time <3

[inexplicifics]

i decided to make a note of all my thoughts and questions about the awau and it turned out to be 1500 words long lmfao, so i won’t subject you to all of it, and also i don’t have discord so i’m sry for the tumblr ask spam, feel free to ignore or answer privately or whatever if that’s easier- i’ll hold onto most of my questions and theories bc i imagine most of them will be answered eventually, but i have a handful of ficlet ideas, so, in no particular order:

when they go on progress, i imagine them getting so utterly miserable without the springs, even with accommodations at noble houses, that they convince yen to portal them home for one night and right back to the road after a soak lmao

do they have a visiting bard at kaer morhen during the progress to keep morale from tanking when jaskier and the rest of the court are gone for so long? bonus points if it’s pris and she falls in love with aubry, although i imagine he’s on jaskier guard duty so she might have to stick around after they get back

would fucking love a bit about dara and his family visiting sometime

might be iffy, since thinking about it the first time sent him into such a nasty panic spiral, but i can imagine jaskier running across livi somewhere in the keep while dragonfly is out on patrol maybe, and she’s having a bad day and feeling terrible about her family, and jaskier sits with her and bonds with her about having been sold to monsters and sent to their deaths by their fathers, and how to take all that rage and pain and betrayal that never quite go all the way away and turn them into something good, something powerful, because nobody understands what she’s gone through quite as well as he can, and also bc even though everyone knows what happened to him, and even though he’s very happy now, sometimes it still hurts to never have been loved by his parents, and there isn’t really anyone at the keep he can talk to about it

i bet lambert (or aiden maybe) at some point thinks it’s very funny to call jaskier “the queen of kaer morhen” and jaskier either tries to drown him in the baths or embraces it shamelessly and starts calling himself that

i woke up one night like a week ago with the phrase “my moonlit lord and my sunlit lover; between you i shall never walk in darkness” repeating over and over in my head, so idk if that’s anything but it’s yours if you want it

before i fell asleep last night i imagined a whole ficlet start to finish about jaskier thinking back on his arrival to kaer morhen (maybe set right after livi’s arrival and that panic attack) where he remembers that first introduction and realizes that when yen said “you’ve been needing a court bard!” with a smile on her face it was the first time in his life anyone had ever said they needed him, and that moment was a turning point in his life, from unwanted, unloved julian to adored, important jaskier, even if he was too overwhelmed to clock it at the time, and he goes to thank her and hugs her and makes her cry and she yells at him bc she didn’t spell her makeup unsmudgeable that morning and is he trying to make her look a mess you dreadful darling man? and also aubry cries and hugs him bc ofc he’s standing guard in the doorway and hears the whole thing and when geralt and eskel freak out bc he and aubry both smell like saltwater when they come back he tells them why and they cry too and it’s a very snuggly supper that night (and if yen gets randomly mobbed with surprise hugs from most of the wolf school for a few weeks, that’s probably normal and not at all related)

how different, physiologically, are aren’s pride from other witchers? does triss ever try to stabilize the false trial mutagens, or do they never come to trust her enough? or is it not necessary bc they’re totally fine now that they’re getting medical care and also fed and bathed and trained?

are any of aren’s old manticore friends or training class still around? what are those reunions like?

a ficlet of merten telling the whole insane story of geralt and ard carraigh and kaer morhen and everything that’s come after to aren and the pride would be amazing

obv i’ve developed “needs sasha/aiden content to live” disease like everyone else smsldkjt the wolves that love aiden need to stick together!! ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

ciri’s interactions with the an craites give me life, would LOVE to see her with her little brothers!!

i would kill for a look at griffin and marika’s wedding- milena and lambert must have gone, right? were their parents there???? how did that interaction go??????? and a royal wedding is the sort of occasion geralt and his court would need to attend, especially for one of his vassals, so did the whole crew show up together? how fun was it?? did the witchers get to make bitchfaces at the de roggevens all night? do griffin and marika love each other?? are marika and milena back in regular contact now?

i would love to see yen’s pov (or aubry’s) of how that meeting with vizimir and lettenhove went the night before the treaty signing, that they both came back from looking so smug

anyway thank you so incredibly very much for sharing your work and humoring us and all you do, you really are a gem of a human being

Oooh, look at all the bunnies!

Let me see now...

-I think the Progress is going to be broken up into lots of little jaunts, with stops back in Kaer Morhen for hot springs and decompression and trading out who gets to be escorting the Warlord and his household, so yes, everyone is going to be Very Glad to be home again, if only for a day or three.

-Oh, having a visiting bard is a fascinating idea! Hm. I'm still working on what to do with Priscilla...I'll have to think about that.

-Jaskier and Livi should have a bonding moment, you are quite correct. Hopefully Jaskier will not have another panic attack if he's a little more prepared for it.

-Jaskier would wear that title with great glee and Geralt would spend the month until the joke stopped being funny in a constant state of About To Go Up Mountain because he's not a king. (Sure he isn't.)

-Oooh, that's an absolutely lovely line - moonlit lord and sunlit lover, wow, that's got some resonance.

-Aww, hugs for Yen, all the hugs for Yen! And that sounds like a wonderful ficlet!

-There are some differences, which I am still figuring out; one of them has extremely keen night-vision combined with strong light sensitivity, and another might actually be venomous, which is going to be fun to figure out. One of these days, they'll let Triss have a very careful look at them, and it's possible they might need some magical intervention/stabilization, but mostly having Enough Food and Decent Medical Care and Competent and Compassionate Training is going to help all of them a lot.

-Several of Aren's old classmates are still around and they are having Feelings. Not sure yet how they're going to deal with those.

-Oh wow, that would be a fascinating ficlet. Aren would spend the whole time going "And then you what now?" while all the girls, who know some of the story from a very different perspective, would be boggling at things that Aren isn't even blinking at. ("You just...went over the walls?" "What, like it's hard?")

-I gotta get that Sasha/Aiden fic to cooperate, but unfortunately I'm starting to think it needs a complete rewrite. Ah well, such is life.

-...Ciri with her little brothers would be adorable. Maybe she should visit Skellige.

-I am attempting to write a Griffin/Marika fic! So far I am three chapters in and they haven't actually met yet. So that's...a thing.

-Oooh I'm not even entirely sure how that meeting went. Aubry got to loom, though. He's good at looming, even if he doesn't use the skill often.

Thank you so much for these wonderful bunnies and questions!

[brivetaroundtown]

Is it almost 3am on the day the collab is due? Yes. But you know better here then never right? THANK YOU SO MUCH @seita for letting me join your Corrupt A Virgin collab. Go check out the other awesome contributors! It’s very yummy if I do say so myself and I do say so

Link Here

Also I did look up if ducks could drown so that’s now a thing in my search history.

Aged Up Tsukishima Kei x Fem Reader

TW: LEMON ALL THE LEMONS. NSFW SMUT. Dub Con, Tsukki being an asshole, Corruption kink, yan vibes, my writing, virginity loss. use of lamb asa pet name. If you see anything else PLEASE let me know so I can tag it.

2,342 words

Tsukishima wondered if you had grown up in a bubble. That could be the only way someone could have been kept so pure, so innocent. So utterly unequipped to handle even the most mild of flirtations. Surely, you had to know that everyone on the Sendai Frogs has been flirting with you at some point or another. More importantly, he has been flirting with you. Sure, he isn’t the most generous when it comes to niceties, but my god woman you had to have had some sort of clue by now.

But as Tsukishima stares down at your innocent face, he realizes that you have absolutely no idea the effect you have on him. That only makes him want you more.

“Y/N” the smirk couldn’t leave his face even if he wanted it too “you want me to walk you home.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way or anything! I-its just getting dark and I am not used to this side of town…”

“Of course not, wouldn’t want our little manager to get lost.”

Such a sweet thing you were, thinking of others. Let’s see how far he can push that… accommodating… spirit.

30 minutes later they had finally arrived at your place. Kei could have cut that time in half by taking a short cut you knew nothing about, but where would the fun be in that? Besides, as you got to your apartment door, he knew that you would feel obligated to let him in. Kei did go out of his way to help you home after all, it was the least you could do.

“Thank you for walking me home Tsukishima-san! Ah w-would you like to come in for a drink or anything? I feel bad for making you walk all this way.” Blush staining your cheeks, you unconsciously bit the corner of your lip, a nervous habit of yours. Kei doesn’t even think you know that you do it. “Of course, a water would be nice.”

Kei’s first look at your little studio apartment confirms his earlier assessment of you. Innocent. Still classy, what with the greys and blues in the modern style but the stuffed narwhals and other cutesy sea creature decorations offset the steel bookcases and matching steel appliances. What also doesn’t surprise him is how organized the place is, having seen some of your spreadsheets for the team and your current struggles to organize the equipment closet.

Kei watched you move around your little kitchen. The way you stood on your toes to grab a glass, shirt lifting enough to give him a teasing glance of your smooth skin underneath. It was enough to make a lesser man beg. Thankfully, Kei considered himself not to be a lesser man. He wouldn’t be the one begging tonight.

You felt nervous with Tsukishima’s eyes on you. It’s always hard to normal tasks when someone is watching. But it’s especially more intimidating when that someone is Tsukishima Kei. He was so smart and quick. He made you nervous, you felt clunky around him being so much shorter than he was. Rounder too.

But whenever he included you in on a joke or smirked at you, you felt the butterflies in your pulse, heat rising to your cheeks. Special. It was a little crush, one you were pretty sure was one sided. And now that crush was seated at the island bar in your kitchen. Looking ridiculously tall in such a little space.

You slide him the glass of water while rapidly trying to think of something to say, feeling like an awkward duck drowning in a pond. That’s how dumb you felt, you’re not even sure ducks can drown.

“Can ducks drown?” Wincing at the realization that you said something that stupid out loud. You go to save yourself trying to ramble about your weird thought process but were thankfully stopped short.

“I guess if they weren’t able to produce the oils to stay a-float they would. Why do you ask? Save a drowning duck recently?” The warm chuckle and smirk were comforting. In its own weird way.

‘Look at you,’ the thought comes, ‘breaking the ice and being able to maintain your awkward status. You should win a medal.’ Thankfully, this is not a thought that comes out loud.

“N-no, that would be silly, not even sure what I would do in that situation.” The giggles come unabated, a pleasant combination of flustered joy.

“It’s one of the many things I like about you,” Tsukishima continues “you always have the most interesting thoughts.”

“You have things you like about me?” Your face is hot. Butterflies turning into waves as you try to assess. The whole moment is overwhelming.

“Do you think I would have walked you home if I didn’t?”

Tsukishima doesn’t expect an answer. Enough is enough, if not now when? Taking advantage of your flustered state, Kei had rounded the little island, cornering you to a counter. Hands placed on either side you.

“You asked me to walk you home because you liked me too, didn’t you?” his voice was low in your ear, breath hot on your neck. All the sensations, the heat coming from his tall body, the smell of his cologne and him was becoming too much. Everything was just so new for you.

“I..i..i”

“Well now you have me here. Wanting you like you want me.” He quirks a brow “you do want me don’t you? Or are you just a slutty tease? How cruel of you.”

“N-no!” You weren’t a tease, you did like him, you did want to get to know him more. This was just all.. s-so so much. Too much. “I like you, I..i do! I-“

With his soft lips against yours Kei cuts you off. Its unexpectedly soft for someone re-known for their vicious tongue. Who knew that that the words of a devil hid behind the soft lips of a saint?

Easily lifting you to sit on top of your counter, Kei slips his body between your thighs as he continues to taste you, drinking your soul that comes out in whimpers. “So sweet Y/N-chan.” His lips keep softly pressing along your jaw, softly nibbling on your ear.

“Do you know what I think? I think you have been wanting me for a while. Tell me, do you think of me when you touch yourself here” long fingers teased along your inner thighs, under your skirt, to trace along your quickly dampening panties. Your head shaking no, body feeling thick with the unknown powers of lust, words not able to make it past your lips. Then he rubs your clothed clit, and it is nothing like the brief moments you have touched yourself. It’s a test that Kei has definitely studied for, your body instantly reacting, the lust building, knotting in your stomach.

Moans singing from your throat, you didn’t even realize that you had gripped onto his arms. As if they could anchor you to reality when all of your nerves were shooting off to space. Kei watched as you climbed higher, and once you were close to the precipice, so close to shattering he pulled back, kissing you soundly. “Now now, don’t want to be selfish. Don’t you want us to come together?” His grin is sharp but he still kisses you so softly. The difference makes your head spin.

“I..i have never done anything before… s’much too so-“ your whimpers are silenced by the soft lips of the devil. “I haven’t done much before either” he lies “but don’t you want me like I want you?” Of course you couldn’t, Kei thought, he wanted to own you.

“I never thought you would be so selfish Y/N” your head began to shake on your own. You weren’t selfish, you did like him. You did! Your frantically whispered “please” had the sharp grin in place.

Kei lifts you towards your bed in the corner of the room, thankful for your studio layout. Sinful tongue tracing down your neck as you are laid upon the bed. He slips skillful fingers beneath your clothes, taking his time exposing your skin. The slow burn of your innocence rising like smoke. In this moment you experience the clarity that, whatever happens tonight will change you forever. And you are powerless to stop it.

Too much too soon too much too soon too much too soon “ahhh” the shocked scream leaves your throat as Kei suckles a nipple into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach, winding you higher, overwhelmed by all the new textures and sensations. Nothing was as you imagined, you could have never prepared for this. “K-kei” his name spilling from your lips did something to him, grazing teeth against the sensitive nub.

As he continued to show attention to your sensitive nipples, his fingers had been tracing your bare pussy lips, gathering the wetness from between your folds. The long digits searched lower, gaining entrance into your wet heat. Stretching you open, exploring to depths that you have never dared go before. Pleasure rising within you, you begin to pant as you reach a higher peak than before, knot tightening and yet you still could not break.

“We should come together.” Kei mummers against your skin as he slowly rises up your body. You are just so small compared to him. Kissing you deeply, he moves your legs to be around his waist, letting you feel the warm hardness of his length. Looking down, nervousness began to coincide with the rising of your impending crash, he was thicker and longer than you would have ever imagined. Similar to the rest of him, the red tip angry and leaking precum as Kei rubbed it along the wetness leaking down your thighs.

“Its not going to fit” you whimper out, head tossing at the pleasure of his tip hitting your clit. “Shh shh my little lamb, don’t get selfish, you can take this like a good girl. Watch, I will show you how good you can be.” With a groan Kei grabs his length aiming at your entrance. “We will go slow, let you feel all of me”. With that he began to rock in, tip breaking through the first ring.

Head thrown back with a groan he continued to slowly rock his dick inside of you, inch by slow inch. Thumb constantly playing with your clit, rubbing against the side of the hood as he paused to let you stretch. You were so unbelievably tight, even beyond virgin expectations. Your breathing was labored, your whole world focused on the stretch between your thighs, unknowingly clenching against the intrusion. Too much too soon too much too soon.

“Easy lamb, breathe for me” Kei spoke through gritted teeth. He was capable of kindness, you were his after all. There would be plenty of time to slam into you later. You began to loosen as he cooed at you, Kei never stopping the slow rocking of his hips. After what felt like eons, he had finally broken through, balls deep inside of you, letting you adjust to his length while he caught his breath, gloating at being the one to experience your tight heat enveloping him, of being your first. And your last, if he had any say about it.

“My sweet little lamb, being such a good slut for me” Kei cooed kissing away your tears that you hadn’t even realized were on your face. “Lets cum together yea? Would you like that?” you nodded your head, ready for the fall, for the anything you just needed him to move. “Use your big girl words” Kei admonished still holding still, even his thumb had stopped moving.

“P-please Kei please move, I w-want us-s to cu-m together-r” you moaned, not even finished with your desperate pleading before Kei pulled his hips back to begin ricking his cock in. A steady yet faster pace than he had originally intended, but he was only human after all, and he needed you to cum with him. He needed you to need him.

You were overwhelmed, only capable of strangled moans of Kei, and too much, and don’t stops. His thumb continuing its assault on your clit, the pace of his hips steady and fast and deep. You could swear you could taste him, he was hitting so deep inside of you, his thick length dragging along your walls. Driving you higher and higher, to where pain was pleasure and pleasure was pain.

Kei was close. He knew you were close, could feel it as you fluttered around him. Lifting your legs to his shoulders he changed the angle, searching for the spot inside of you that would completely push you over the edge, would ruin you. With a keen cry tearing from your lips he knew that he found it. Angling his thrusts he kept up his pace knowing that it was only a matter of time.

“S’too much stop. cant cant cant” your head knocked back and forth, your body on fire, electric almost nuclear reactive. “Yes, you can. Cum for me lamb” Kei demanded. His voice hard, determined. As if his words could control sin, you shattered, body spasming as you fell back to earth, hitting every rock along the way. It was a relief filled with sharp edges, causing tears to fall and shakey breaths. Kei cooed at you, telling you what a good little slut you were for him as he fucked you through your orgasm, quickly cumming himself as you milked him dry, painting your inner walls white.

Kei pulled out, a stretched out beside you, gathering you on top of his chest. “What a sinful little lamb you are, letting me do all of that to you.” Exhaustion was overtaking your body, as you gathered your wits about you, shame starting to replace pleasure.

You tried to defend yourself, but Kei interrupted you “its ok to be a slut for me lamb. Because you want me, and now I have you.”

[lunaekalenda]

"𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔢" 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔬𝔶𝔰! - 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔟 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 @levisgirll

Hello everyone!! This is a special collab post brought to you by ‘cookiefics’ and ‘levisgirll’ and we decided to work together and write up a post which is y/n pranking their aot boyfriends!

Check out cookiefics for Eren and Reiner -  you’re here :D

Check out ‘levisgirll’ for Levi and Jean. - find it here :D

Synopsis: Y/N decided to prank the boys in attack on titan by saying they don’t want to ‘sleep with them tonight’. Some will get annoyed, sad, might tease you back or try to get your attention! And to make it up, Y/N ends the prank by saying the 3 words they long wanted to hear! So pick or check out which character you like the most and enjoy <3 We promise this will be good, it is filled with love, fluff, entertainment and a little bit angst.

a/n:  hi! cookie here lol. just wanted to say that working with mina was such a good and fun experience! i absolutely enjoyed every minute of it! :D i’m really happy about how it ended and i really hope you all enjoy this as much as we enjoyed creating it together! also, remember to check Mina’s works on @levisgirll to find more quality - specially for levi- content, you won’t regret it, she’s SUPER talented !! ;) please support her on her works !

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eren x reader, reiner x reader

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eren:

Eren didn’t expect that to come out of your mouth so smoothly as it did.

“Today I prefer to sleep alone.” he raised a brow, a silent ask in his eyes while he took off his shirt, getting ready for bed. He looks at you once again, seeing how you’re not in bed, just sitting there, looking at him.

“Are you serious?” he asks. You nod quietly. You can see how his lip pouts a little, his nose being extremely cute while he does it.

You want to laugh so bad, his confused green eyes looking quietly around, as if he was searching a camera or something.

“Where am I supposed to sleep then, honey?” he asks, without even asking again if he has to sleep far from you.

“I don’t know… On the sofa?” you ask. He sighs. He looks once more to you, making sure you want that.

“‘M going then, good night, honey.” he says, the pout still on his mouth.

“Night, Eren.”

That definitely made him turn around and face you. 

“Okay. No good, just night, followed by Eren as if i did something. What did I do this time?” he asks. His precious eyes are still on yours, and you shake your head.

“You did nothing.” you say. His brain starts to work at 100% capacity. Maybe the problem is that he didn’t make anything.

He looked quick to the clock. It isn’t your birthday, your anniversary or any other special date.

He kissed you this morning before and after leaving home. He called you during your work rest. He cooked dinner and spent some time with you on the couch.

What the hell are you saying then? You want to sleep alone for what reason?

He doesn’t want to pressure you, though. He knows maybe you have your reasons to avoid him today and he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

He takes then his pillow and walks towards the couch, taking a blanket on his way. He murmurs to himself and you can hear him, trying to cover your laugh.

Minutes later, you walk silently to the couch. Eren is almost ready for his sleep, his hair tangled on a low bun and his pillow on the couch.

“Honey, what are you doing here?” he asks. You laugh quietly.

“It was a joke.” Eren’s green eyes are now open with surprise, before a brow raises quietly.

“Oh, so it was a joke.” he says, getting up slowly. “How funny.”

He was supposed to laugh, but he looks at you instead, with a serious expression. “Search where to hide cause I’m not going to be merciful with you.”

You run towards your bedroom, laughing, and you can hear his steps behind you. You jump into your shared bed, seeing how he closes the door behind him.

You move until your back is against the headboard. You keep laughing.

“Eren!” you say, and he takes off his bun. Then, casually, he takes the hair tie between his teeth, a smirk starting to appear on his lips.

He crawls to the bed, his arms all tensed, the muscles on his back marked by the strength he’s using to lift his body.

He gets closer to you, the hair tie still between his lips. This isn’t funny anymore. You want that damn hair tie to disappear from his mouth. You want to be the thing Eren is casually kissing.

He sits in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours.

With patience, he ties his hair in a bun, your eyes following his fingers, how they pass the hair between the hair tie parts. His eyes are still locked on yours. Once he’s finished, he gets closer.

“That joke of yours annoyed me. Now, deal with it, hm?” he whispers.

That was almost a direct attack. You feel your legs weak against his husky voice. He smirks, getting closer to you.

Closed door, hair in a tight bun, no shirt and just a little lamp as a source of light made you think of how the night will end, making you smile for yourself while he keeps being closer. Your lips are almost on his, but he takes his head away, smiling.

“If you think I tied up my hair and closed the door to do disrespectful things with you, you’re so wrong, honey” he says. You’re totally shocked and Eren laughs.

“What was that, Jaeger?” you ask, surprised because of the change of his mood. He enters the bed between laughs.

“Revenge, honey.”

You pout while he gets comfortable on the bed.

“Now you should kiss me.” you say. You’re angry at him now. Is he leaving you like that? Like the mess he made out of you?

“I want to sleep. Good night, y/n”

reiner:

“Reiner…” You call him. He looks at you, his sweet smile only directed at you. That makes your heart flutter, and also makes you feel kinda cruel.

“Yes, my love?”

“Today I want to sleep alone.” All the joy and calm in his eyes starts to disappear, his head getting full of thoughts.

“Why?” he asks simply. “Please, my love, don’t sleep away from me…” His head got invaded.

Why? Did I mess it up? Does they want to leave me? Did I fail again?

You can see how the prank started to make his head overthink, so you approach him quickly.

Your hands take his t-shirt, pulling him to you. He has a sad expression.

“Sorry, Rein. It was just a TikTok prank and I didn’t know it would affect you so much. I’m so sorry.” You were almost in tears. Reiner sighs.

“Please, don’t do that again.” he asks softly. “I got scared. I thought I made something wrong.” he says. That breaks your heart a little more. You start to cry against his shirt. “Hey, love. Don’t cry. It was just a joke.” he says.

He turns around and takes your face in his hands. You feel how he wipes out some tears, smiling a little for you. “But please, never scare me like that.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again. He takes your face closer and kisses your forehead sweetly.

“But you do still love me, right?” That question makes you shed a couple tears.

“I love you, Rein. I do, please don’t forget it.”

He smiles a little more. “I also love you a lot.” he says. He takes his lips again to your face, this time, your nose. “But you really scared me.”

“I’ll never do it again.” you say. He looks at you.

“Then.. Can I sleep here?” he asks. You both laugh a little.

Once you two are accommodated, with you between Reiner’s arms, feeling his soft breath on your hair and his legs tangled with yours, you feel safe.

“Rein.” you whisper. He hums. “If I ever hurt you, please tell me. Even if it is just a little thing.” He takes you closer. “I don’t want to hurt you.” you say. Your lips leave a kiss on his chest, near to where his heart is beating. You feel his hands hugging your body stronger.

“Okay. But the same goes for you. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re the most precious person I have.” he says. His hands go up and down your spine.

“You’re also the most important person to me. I really love you. I fell in love with you and I wouldn’t doubt doing it again.” you say. You feel how his mouth moves against your head. “Rein?”

Afraid of finding him crying, you look at him. The moonlight that enters is enough to see your boyfriend’s smile.

“That’s… That’s so sweet. You make me so happy…” his  eyes are now shining. You are grateful for seeing that shining again. He caresses your cheek again, and you rest your head on the pillow, letting your faces meet.

“Rein.”

“Hm?” he says, fixed on your eyes and the way his thumb draws on your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

He smiles widely, even more than before. He gets closer to you.

“Until my lips hurt, please.”