#beige padded sofa

[samexplores]

Poolhouse (San Francisco)

[fractiontweets]

Traditional Living Room - Living Room Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless open concept medium tone wood floor living room remodel with a bar, beige walls, a corner fireplace, a wood fireplace surround and a media wall

[pseudowho]

18+, MDNI

You always knew Kento had sensitive hands...so while he's drunk and needy, you give him the touch he's craving.

Warnings: Finger sucking, gagging, fingering, handjobs, desperate!Nanami, sloppydrunk!Nanami, cumplay, pre-established relationship/consent

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If six large whiskeys hadn't washed the dirt of the day from Kento's soul, you doubted you'd be able to do much good. That didn't mean you couldn't try.

You smelled him as soon as you entered the living room; not a bad smell, but undeniably the smell of life, earthy and masculine in a way that stirred something nameless, older than the stars, within you. His cologne and the faint deodorised tang of sweat, cut with bitter spirit fumes, led you by the nose to the sofa.

Kento slumped, manspread and sloppy, his head tipped back and woozy. He felt, rather than heard you approach, and his head rolled forwards, a marionette. Liquor glazed his eyes, and a crooked smile slurred across his lips, sliding away as soon as it started.

"Love of my life." Kento rumbled, gravelly with inebriation. You sat beside him, sideways as you faced him, hip flaring a fertile hill beneath the hem of just-his-shirt. Kento's eyes caressed you, long and lascivious. The alcohol made him shameless in a way that leaked, toxic, through the crevices of your defence. You shivered, clamping your thighs together to ease the sudden needy throb.

"Rough day?" You whispered, your fingers moving over to stroke the loosened tails of his tie. Kento groaned, husky, as if it was his skin you stroked. He took another long gulp of whiskey with a hiss. As your fingers plaited with his around his glass, trying gently to remove it, Kento shot you an eerily flat look, scoffing as he resisted and whiskey slopped over his fingers.

"You could say that...look what you made me do." Kento toned, low and slow, and shifted his glass to the other hand. He raised his liquor-glossed hand, wobbling eyes mathematical in how they traced the amber drips, trailing down long fingers towards his wristwatch.

Kento tsked, his usually warm face twisted into a sneer, the alcohol amplifying the spite he'd carried home. "Expensive whiskey, that. I think you owe me, you menace--"

With little thought, you leaned forwards, taking his forefinger into your mouth, licking the whiskey off before it could reach his wristwatch. A strangled noise of bliss left Kento's throat, gasping for a second as your tongue stroked over the pad of his finger. His cock swelled fast, thin-blooded and quickened.

"...sta-stop...ungh, don't. Don't."

Your eyes flicked up to his, devious now.

"...don't?" You mimicked, ready to obey.

Kento's teeth gritted, something deep rumbling in his chest. A barely perceptible shake of the head, blushing faintly at your wicked smile.

You grasped his hand up to your face, brushing your lips over his fingertips, sighing over them. Your breath alone was enough of a caress. Hypersensitive already, and only lubricated by his drink, Kento's breaths grew deep and ragged, his thighs spreading further to accommodate his rapidly thickening length. His other hand, loose around his crystal tumbler of whiskey, draped over the back of the sofa.

Kento watched, hungry and fascinated, squirming with overstimulation as you took his fingertips into your mouth, one at a time, suckling, licking, flicking your tongue over their calloused pads. Kento rested his whiskey over the tenting in his beige slacks, his ring and little finger stretching out to graze over his aching bulge until he shivered.

"...that's it...good girl..." Kento slurred, lubricated with abandon, teeth bared and predatory. "More tongue...more...there we go...hnnn..."

Kento's head rolled back, loose, sighing with spread legs as if it were his cock in your mouth. Gently, insistently, he pressed his first two fingers into your mouth until they touched your throat. Kento looked up at the sound of your wet gag, continuing to thrust his fingers over your tongue, watching as the spit gathered on his knuckles and the tears gathered in your eyes.

"...so good for me...sweetheart...look so pretty..." Kento mumbled, fascinated as he pressed the pad of his thumb down on your tongue, examining your mouth with a thick swallow.

A gasp shuddered out of him as you clamped his thumb between your teeth, kneeling to straddle him. You raised the hem of his borrowed shirt, just enough for him to see that you were bare beneath it.

Kento slopped the rest of the whiskey back with a rusty groan, abandoning the glass so he could dig his fingertips into the fat of your hips, growling as he gave it a shake and barely restrained appreciative slap, just to see it jiggle. His crooked smile returned at your sweet laughter around his thumb.

Returning your sucking attentions to his fingertips, without breaking eye contact, you spread Kento's legs again, reaching in and gripping his erection to release it. Kento hissed, cursing to feel it slap against the neat patch of honey blond hair beneath his navel.

"...sh--shit...lover, I...I can't...no fit state..."

"Then just...take."

"...excuse me?"

"Just take. Just for today, let me..." You sucked his fingertips again, enough to free a desperate, wanton moan from Kento's bobbing throat, "...let me, play with you, instead."

Bleary and drunk, Kento had no interest in refusing such a generous offer, and his moan only dragged longer to feel you suckle his fingers again, your other hand grasping his cock in one long, heavy stroke from ball to tip.

Gasping like a fish out of water, Kento moaned jagged, stilted little moans. You felt yourself throb, edged by watching Kento writhe beneath your strokes. Not wet enough, you removed his fingers from your mouth with one wet pop, for long enough to drop a glob of spit onto his cock head, stroking it over his length, rolling his sensitive tip in your palm until Kento cried out in bliss.

As he thrust his fingers into your mouth, watching you straddle him, jerking him off with genuine enjoyment, Kento felt himself come undone with shocking speed. Reaching down to hook his balls out too, he fondled them in one broad hand for just a few seconds, before dipping his fingers to the honeypot between your legs. The crooked smile grew again to feel you squirm, his fingers teasing at your entrance.

"...thassit...so good t'me...so good...fuck-- be inside...please...good girl..."

Kento was a lecherous drunk, if only with you, and you gasped to feel one thick finger thrust inside you. You squirmed downwards, riding his fingers until he was knuckle deep. Kento had enough tension in his body to keep his fingers stiff enough for you to grind him inside you. Mirroring himself, his other fingers thrust into your mouth, over your wet little tongue, to your gagging throat, and back again.

Only the liquor stripped away the shame he would otherwise have felt at approaching his orgasm so quickly. As your hand sped up with wet little plap plap plaps, so did his, and you felt your wrist ache and your cunt ache and your throat ache with the burn of pleasuring him. It was worth it, to watch him sloppy and groaning beneath you.

You felt a rush, riding his fingers inside you, and the ball of his palm against your clit, unable to wait any longer to feel his cock twitch and pulse in your hand. You didn't need to cum, to feel the deep aching satisfaction of making Kento break.

You wouldn't have to wait; Kento's thighs clenched, and he cursed, gasping with ecstasy.

"--f-fuck...fuuckk I'm...I'm...g'nna cum...haaaaahfuckyesgoodgirl, good giiirrlll--"

Kento bucked into your fist as glugs of cum spurted into your hand, not quite as warm as your own arousal seeping onto his fingers. Kento groaned, long and ragged, with each contraction of his cock, each gradually weakening spurt of milky thick seed onto his belly. Kento shivered with bliss, edging on hyperstimulation as you milked the last drops of cum from him.

Kento panted, rough and devastatingly sleepy as he came down from his high. He groaned, another spurt dripping weakly onto his belly as his fingers slipped out of you, and you wiped off his cum between your folds. He knew, with a possessive rush, that you just liked having it there. He blushed faintly, suddenly himself again, the stress of the day melting off him.

"Shit, I'm...I'm sorry, darling, I...I did nothing for you..."

You pressed a long, silencing kiss to his lips, nuzzling your nose against his with a whisper.

"You'll get me back...I know you will."

[lillaluna]

kill this love ch.1

Pairing: Neuvillette x f!Reader x Wriothesley

Tags: modern au

14 February. This date started to annoy you a week ago, as soon as the first hints of hearts appeared in shop windows. It's a strange coincidence, because a week ago you were dumped by your boyfriend. You'd been together for half a year and the moron suddenly realised you weren't a couple. Oh, yeah. A week before the damn day.

You took a sip of wine and set the glass on the low glass table that stood in front of the soft blue sofa where you'd been trying to pull yourself together for the past hour to drown out… What, love? No, probably not. You weren't entirely sure if this relationship was love, but you felt something more for this creepy jerk than for anyone else you'd been around before.

Staring at one point in front of you, you couldn't hear what the TV was saying. You tucked your legs under you, wrapped your arms around them, and put your head in your lap.

It felt so empty inside. And you wanted to cry. You wanted to, but you couldn't.

"Should I call him?"

You let out a loud "pfft" and shook your head, waving that stray thought away like a pesky fly that was especially assertive and loud today, the bloody 14th of February.

Dropping your feet off the couch, you reached for the glass again, the red liquid wavering in it as you brought it to your soft lips. Lips that HE kissed greedily every time, falling to them as if his life depended on each, even fleeting kiss.

And then he just walked away.

Maybe that's not what he meant. Well, some people do that, break up before the holidays so they don't have to give a gift, or maybe he just hasn't decided if he loves you, and Valentine's Day greetings are a confirmation of that fact.

You set your glass down and your hand reached for the phone that lay in front of you periodically signalling incoming notifications.

"I could just hear his voice and say hello…" You muttered to yourself, justifying your own idiotic actions.

You unlocked the gadget, pressed the green handset icon and went to the 'keys' section. Your finger hovered over the first digit of his number. The thought that you'd deleted him from everywhere just for this occasion vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and you were already dialling the familiar digits.

Your heart pounded and your hands went numb as you clicked the icon with your thumb, then put the phone to your ear, waiting for an answer. Your heart pounded in your chest as if trying to break free.

1… 2… 3 beeps.

Nothing. The answer was answered by silence.

Now you're going to feel like an even bigger fool. But, he just might not have heard the call, right? Couldn't he? How awful it is to find excuses.

You pressed reset on the call and tossed the phone lightly to the other edge of the couch, before taking the wine glass in your hand and sitting in the original pose, wrapping one arm around your legs. Each drop of wine, each sip becoming an ajar of sorrow for the call you had made. With a glimpse, you glanced at the phone lying aimlessly on the padded surface. It has become a symbol of all the accusations against your own true and gentle soul.

"Should have held back, you idiot," you muttered to yourself, starting to sway slowly from side to side. Closing your eyes for a moment, you thought you were about to cry and the long-awaited relief would come. But time went on and on, and you just frowned even more, trying to squeeze out a tear.

You shuddered and almost spilled the rest of the wine on your beige house suit when you heard your mobile phone ring.

Your heart skipped a beat and then started beating so hard you could hear your pulse in your ears.

"He didn't hear it after all."

A slight smile touched your lips. You set the glass vessel on the table, lowering your feet to the floor and getting up from the couch. Your palms sweated as you leaned over to the opposite end of the upholstered furniture and picked up the phone.

Your heart plummeted downward. An unfamiliar number was ringing.

You threw your head back, covering your eyes, ta bit your upper lip. What a vivid disappointment.

The phone continued to ring. You looked sadly at the incoming number again. You answered the call.

"Sorry to bother you so late, but you called me a few minutes ago." A man's voice came from the receiver. Calm, soft, collected.

Except.

"I don't think I called," you mumbled in a slightly hoarse voice, "just a second."

Pulling the receiver away from your ear, you found a number in your outbox. This number. It was the same as his, but with a different number at the end. You put the gadget to your ear again, the man on the other end was still waiting.

"Yeah, sorry, wrong number," you sighed, and turned around to sit on the couch.

"It's a pity," the voice replied suddenly, and you heard a smile.

"Why pity?" you asked in confusion.

"You have a pleasant voice," the man replied without hesitation.

You smiled crookedly and pressed your lips together before replying.

"So do you," you paused for one, brief moment before continuing, "would you like me to call you tomorrow?"

…

And you did call. Tomorrow, and then the day after that. The next evening after that, the stranger called you himself, and the morning after, you were greeted with a good morning wish in a text message. Your evening conversations could last for hours. Discussing everything in the world, you lost track of time, completely relaxing under the velvety voice of a man. Even without knowing each other's names, you discussed the most difficult, personal, intimate moments of each other's lives and it was so easy, so self-evident, because the clear realisation that you would never see each other gave you complete freedom in what you wanted to say, but would never risk it, knowing that you would meet the man face to face.

…

It's been almost a fortnight since you started talking to him.

"He makes it so easy for me, and…" you said, thoughtfully stirring the coffee you had just taken from the machine.

You and your colleague were standing in a large hallway that was flooded with bright sunlight streaming through the glazing of the main building of the law firm you worked for. You didn't hold a high position, just worked with paperwork from past cases, making sure there was no confusion about qualifications, or years labelled on the documents.

"Hey," you called out to the girl standing next to you as she was peering over your shoulder with her mouth slightly open, not paying any attention to you.

You turned around, and basically immediately realised that you could justify the fascinated look of your colleague. Entering through the main entrance, the hall was crossed by a tall man, without exaggeration, of angelic beauty. A strict blue suit emphasised his good physique, and his posture gave him away as something of an aristocrat, no less. His long white hair was gathered at the nape of his neck in a low ponytail, but for all its collectedness, a few curls were poking out of it, so harmoniously that you could argue that this supposed carelessness was a well-crafted image. But he was handsome. Very.

The man made his way to the lift, and a moment later went into it, and your colleague seemed to snap out of her trance.

"Who's that?" she asked still turning round to you, the moment you turned to her.

"Someone we'll never get to meet," you said with a smile, "men like that are out there," you pointed your chin upwards, indicating the top floors of the building you worked in.

Navia, who was standing next to you rolled her eyes and took her ready coffee from the machine.

"What are you writing us off right away. That's probably my future husband".

You chuckled nervously.

"I'm a realist and men like that look at girls who match their status".

Taking a sip of coffee you walked towards the staff lift, Navia following behind you, wailing about how you can't dream and you're generally dry by nature.

…

"How was your day?" asked the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Not bad", you replied languidly, pouring wine into a glass, "we have a small change at work, changed the staff, mostly among the senior management, but nothing serious. Hopefully it will be," you said on a sigh, setting the bottle down on the wooden table top.

"I understand," the soft male voice replied, and you heard him take a sip, "I'm going through some changes in the workplace right now, and to my dismay, they're going to be massive. As a manager, I will be forced to change people's lives, and I fear not for the better."

"Are you facing layoffs?" You asked with interest, walking from the kitchen to the living room, holding a glass filled with white wine. You sat down on the soft sofa, leaning back against its backrest.

"I'm afraid so," the man said not cheerfully, seeming to regret what he was about to do. "Can we talk, about something other than work, it's been a bloody awful day today?"

"Sure," you almost muttered into the receiver, "I've had a… today."

You didn't have time to finish when you heard a knock on the door.

"Someone's here," you informed the stranger, and putting your glass on the table, got up from the couch. There was another insistent knock on the door.

"Will you open up?" The man inquired.

"Apparently I'll have to," after these words you walked towards the front door. You weren't expecting anyone, and you couldn't even guess who might have come, especially at this hour. Not that 9 p.m. was late, but guests were more likely to leave than come in at this hour. You twisted the lock and pushed the door handle open.

A chill ran through your body, as if you'd been splashed with ice water.

"Wriothesley?" you exhaled, and hurriedly pressed the red handset on the screen of your mobile phone.

[tiniedemon]

GLORY & GORE . . . chapter five

in which y/n and kyle finally acknowledge their desires

you remembered watching kyle’s games, watching his ferocity. kyle was a bloodthirsty animal, hiding in the treetops, descending on his prey come nightfall. his mind was his greatest asset. he’d taken the trophy for the most kills in the games, his kill count surpassing even the most formidable of your successors. he’d done it all with a simple dagger, the hilt repurposed into a stunning taser.

you’d taken a lot from his strategies, choosing instead to form alliances and betray them in the dark of the night. your only weapon had been a machete, the metal hilt carved to resemble a saw.

you had every confidence in the two of you in a typical game, but for this one, veterans would be your greatest enemies. they’d all won before, developed their strategies, honed their skills in a life threatening situation. they were familiar with your strategy, with kyle’s, and with each other’s.

“i need to watch the tapes,” you mumbled to kyle. the two of you were gathered in the common area of your district’s floor, liane seated just across the sectional sofa. kelly was perched in the dining room, enjoying a sweet snack as though your entire world wasn’t scheduled to implode within a few short weeks.

“what tapes?” he responded, face scrunched in confusion. you huffed a sigh, rolled your eyes, and looked to liane.

“how can i analyze previous games? i need to know what i’m up against,” you called to her. she chortled, tilted her head back, her glass of liquor spotting on her beige top.

“i can get you the tapes, but you’re gonna need to pick some allies. those are my conditions,” she drawled, her words slurring together. you huffed again, rolled your eyes again, nestled into kyle’s side. his hand fell to your knee, as though it belonged there.

he was oddly comfortable showing such vulnerability in front of someone who could very well use it against you, and you did not quite understand that. was he not suspicious of liane in the slightest?

“fine,” you grumbled. “but i’m only doing it for those tapes. get me the footage and i’ll pick some allies.”

by the afternoon of the second day, liane had come to you with the footage. it was all held within a small hard drive, able to be easily connected to a capitol projector.

“remember our deal. find an alliance.”

the first night was spent fast forwarding through district one’s games, analyzing every strategy you could scour. you were stationed in the floor at the foot of your bed, hunched over a half empty cup of coffee. it was stretching further into the night, growing closer to dawn than to dusk.

kyle padded into the room, rubbing his eye, his face scrunched. the door slid shut behind him, his body collapsing on the carpet beside you. he leaned into you, placing his head on your shoulder. his hair tickled your chin and his lips warmed your exposed shoulder blade.

“why are you still up?” he asked in a gruff voice. you sighed, paused the footage, rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes. you were exhausted. you’d been watching these tapes for at least twelve hours with no breaks. there were weeks worth of footage per tribute, and it was a miracle you’d gotten through even one.

“i’ve been sifting through footage, analyzing. why are you awake?”

kyle puffed a sigh, his cheeks inflating and his eyes squeezing shut. you couldn’t help the soft smile that creeped onto your face, or the hand you ran through his knotted curls. his hair was just as dry as you were used to. you made a mental note to remind him to condition every day. he’d need that piece of advice after he survived the games.

“i was worried about you.” he spoke so softly you almost didn’t hear him. you hummed, your heart speeding in your chest, and leaned your head against his. he picked up the remote and fiddled with the buttons until he found the right one. the footage resumed where you’d left off, zoomed in on district one’s female tribute.

you’d noticed that she and stephen, the male tribute, were similar in style, as were all district ones. they’d team up with district two, take out all the other tributes, and fight the other careers to the death. they tended to lean heavy into mass slaughter rather than mind games, the way you and kyle tended to lean. perhaps their similar fighting style was the first stepping stone towards their capitol marriage.

it didn’t take much for you to call quits on the second district one tribute. there wasn’t much to her besides bloodshed and brutality. district two’s male tribute, craig, was more of a sadistic killer. he preferred torture, slow death, dragging along the inevitable. it was almost painful for you to watch. almost. kyle flinched with every heartless murder craig committed.

“how are we supposed to stand a chance against them?” kyle whispered. you hummed, wrapped an arm around him, pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“you don’t worry about a single thing, ky. i can take them.” you knew it was an empty promise. there was no telling what would transpire in these games, what route the careers chose to take. the only thing you could promise was your best, and your best was a force to be reckoned with.

“i’ve got your back, too. you know that right?” your heart warmed with the words, a smile forming on your lips despite the gruesome loss playing on screen. kyle was sweet at heart, despite his younger days in the arena. he was a ball of anger, a bomb ready to detonate, but he never did so without a reason. you admired that about him — his willingness to explode for causes he believed in.

he had a heart of gold, though. he was consistently looking out for you, even before your family had been taken from you. once he’d won the games and gained his monthly fortune, he’d spent a good portion on your family. you’d spent your entire life until your games, nearly three years, attempting to repay him. you didn’t think you ever could, in all honesty. kyle had his entire family to support without throwing yours on his roster, but he did so in a heartbeat, and for that you were grateful.

“we’re in this together,” you mumbled, your fingers lacing with his over his shoulder. “you and i against the world.” he was quiet for a moment, breathing so evenly you were sure he was asleep. it wasn’t until he cringed, a splash of blood hitting one of the cameras displayed brightly on the hologram, that you knew he was awake. he’d never been so calm, so still around you. you’d never known him to be so relaxed. he was always so high strung, fidgeting, consistently moving his legs. he was completely relaxed now, limp against your body, face pressed to your chest.

“don’t think i’ve ever been so relaxed in my life.” his words were whispered, shy, lost in the dips of your clavicle. you chuckled and ran your hand through his unkempt curls, adjusting into a more comfortable position on the hardwood floor. kyle leaned further into you, his lips gently brushing the space between your collarbone and your neck. the touch was featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine.

“you should rest. we’ve got the parade tomorrow,” you breathed. kyle sighed, breath fanning over your prickling skin. his hair tickled your chin as he shook his head.

“i don’t think i could if i wanted to,” he muttered. you frowned, turned off the projection, focused your attention on the ginger practically in your lap. his eyes glittered in the low light of your lamp in the corner, shadows caressing the dips of his cheekbones and eye sockets. even in the poor, shadowed lighting, you could see the freckles spotting his upper lip.

“why’s that?” you could barely speak around the lump in your throat, swallowing it thickly. being so close to him, closer than you’d ever been, was nerve wracking. everything about him was nerve wracking. knowing the depths of his character, the darkest parts of him, the lightest parts of him, was nerve wracking. it was an addiction in and of itself. you didn’t think you could tear your eyes away from his tongue wetting his chapped lips if you wanted to.

“i’d be too busy thinking about you. thinking about what i should’ve said, what i should’ve done.” there was a pause, in which you caught his eyes, the heat reflecting in their molten depths. “thinking about how i should’ve kissed you.”

your heart jumped to your throat, your breath catching. kyle straightened himself out, his head leaning down to gaze into your eyes. you couldn’t tear yourself away, caught in the trap of his allurement. you shivered under the gentle touch of his fingertips to your cheekbone, the caress of his palm to your jawbone.

you didn’t want to love him. you didn’t want to need him. but, to your dismay, you were starting to realize how little your wants mattered. there was something about kyle that drew you in, that forced you to desire him, that suffocated you with its incessant whispering of his name. he was forcing you to love him, to care for him, to need him on such a base level that you couldn’t exist if not for him.

“why don't you?” your breaths came in shallow, discreet gasps, your fingertips shaking and heart beating in your throat. something about kyle was addicting, entrapping, influential, dangerous. you were crossing a threshold you knew you’d never be able to cross back through.

“that’s a good question,” he hummed. his fingertips traced the edge of your jawline, eyes dropped to follow them. “why don’t i?”

“you’re scared,” you breathed. every movement of his body, every beat of your heart, instilled a new wave of nervous fear in your bones. if anyone was scared, it was you.

“i’m not.” it was a lie. you could feel his pulse running against the hand you’d placed on his chest. “but i think you are.” that was true. everything in you was screaming ‘run. run as far as you can, and don’t come back.’ there was a part of you that whispered ‘stay with him. you need him.’

“i’m not.” kyle scoffed, flattened his palm against the side of your neck, tilted his head to the side. his eyes glimmered when you looked into them, the brightest expression of love you’d ever seen held deep within them. you knew he could see the fright on your face, the way your lips trembled, the bead of sweat rolling down your temple. “okay, maybe i am.”

“i knew you were. you don’t have to be scared of me.” his voice was shaky, his whispers airy and depraved. you knew what he wanted, and that scared you. it scared you that he wanted it, and it scared you more that you did too.

“i know. i’m not scared of you. i’m scared of me,” you admitted, your eyes shamefully downcast to the dips of his collarbone. kyle was a defined man, his bone structure harsh and his features sharp. there was a hard angle where his jaw met his throat, and where his throat met his shoulders, and where his shoulders met his biceps. his legs were the same, strong muscle tapering to a pronounced kneecap and into a rounded calve.

“why?” he asked, his entire hand eclipsing the side of your face. you chuckled, the sound airy, as your eyes traced the prominent vein popping from his neck. you followed it to his jaw, and to his full lips, and to his smiling eyes.

“i shouldn’t want you the way i do, in the situation we’re in, and i’m terrified. i’ve never wanted someone this way before.”

“don’t be fearful of your desire, dearest. it’s the one thing that’s kept you going this long,” he hushed, nose brushing yours. you closed your eyes on instinct, exhaled shakily, weaved your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “let it guide you, not inhibit you.”

“kiss me.”

you waited no more than a second before his lips devoured yours, his kiss searing against your trembling mouth. his fingers bruised your skin, pulling you closer, and closer, until you were straddling his lap. he held you by the waist, pressed his chest to yours, trailed his touch beneath your shirt to caress your bare skin.

you were a nervous wreck atop him, breathy sighs leaving your lips with every press of his to your neck and jaw. you hadn’t released your hold of his shirt in quite some time, your fingers tangled in the thin fabric, knuckles shaking against his soft chest. you were entirely caught in the feeling of his skin sliding against yours, his warm breath caressing your prickling nerves, his tongue brushing your bottom lip. he was a good kisser. you were realizing this as your legs trembled on either side of him.

“please don’t hurt me,” you whispered between kisses, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as you could get them. kyle took your face in his palms and drew his mouth away entirely, his lips puffy and smiling when you finally met his gaze.

“i wouldn’t dream of it. you and me against the world, remember?” he mumbled, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “you should get some sleep. no offense, but you look like you’ve been run over by a train.” the chuckle punctuating his statement didn’t make it any less true. you knew you looked rough. the days with little to no sleep were adding up in the bags beneath your eyes. even so, lava burned in your depths, aching for him and only him.

“i don’t need rest,” you breathed, leaning in for another kiss. kyle indulged you, his lips moving fluidly with yours, your nails embedding their prints into the lean muscle of his back. he breathed shakily against you, his mouth bruisingly caressing yours. you felt a low hum bubbling in your chest, drawn out by his fingers groping your thighs.

“don’t let me continue. you won’t like it if i do,” he gasped into your mouth, teeth grazing your lower lip. you could feel the sweat beginning to gather on your skin, dampening your shirt. something about kyle was so brazen, so heated. you’d never sweat like this before, even in the adrenaline rush of the games, or the training leading up to it. even in the summer heat, without a single drop of water.

“i want to. i want you.” you weren’t lying. you weren’t one for lying, even when it was a technical necessity. everything in you was screaming for every piece of him, begging for it, burning for it. your every nerve was alight, buzzing beneath his bruising touch and starving lips.

“i would die for you.” his words struck you harder than any ax could. having someone just as willing to die for you as you were for them was an odd experience, an experience you hadn’t prepared yourself for in the slightest. you were winded, wheezing and gasping as kyle pressed open mouthed kisses to the side of your throat.

“you’ll never have to,” you whimpered, subtly grinding your hips against kyle’s. the groan he let out was soft, buzzing on repeat in your ears, drenching you from the core outward. you could feel his eagerness welling beneath your hips, pressing into the crevices of your lower half. you knew he could feel yours, your loose trousers growing damp as his hands clawed at your ass.

“god, please take these off,” he rushed, tongue stumbling over his words and over your lips. you couldn’t bring yourself to find a reason why you shouldn’t, drunken by the loving haze he’d entrapped you in. your hips met the cold hardwood, fingers shaking as they pried your bottoms from your body. kyle tore your shirt over your head, breathless as he took in every exposed piece of skin his widened eyes could find.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he hastily threw his own top to the other side of the room. you couldn’t find the air in your lungs, gaze trained on the scars littering his chest. kyle would never cease to amaze you, even in the horrific, shredded state his chest remained in. long, jagged scars raised the skin of his chest, one just beneath his ribs and the other two parallel over his heart. you couldn’t resist reaching to touch him, dusting over the remnants of his days in the arena.

“don’t look at them,” he mumbled, ashamed and dejected. you dipped your head, shimmying slightly off his lap, and pressed a few chaste kisses to the torn skin of his chest. his breath hitched, his hand knotting in your hair.

“is this why you never take your shirt off around me?” you breathed, tracing each line burrowed in his lean chest muscles. he hesitated, then nodded, and brought you in for another kiss. you didn’t fight him, didn’t fight to continue the conversation. you melted into him, fingers twisting in his curly hair, hips subtly rocking into his. he was a breathy mess, letting out the smallest sounds, your lips swallowing every single one. you’d never been so eager to touch a human being before. never so desperate to show your affection.

it took only a few moments for kyle to pry his pajama bottoms from his body, during which he slid you into the floor. your bare thighs touched the hardwood and a shiver rippled down your spine from the chill running over your bottom half. his hands were unrelenting, pushing your pliant body into the floor, squeezing your sides like you’d disappear if he stopped. which, in a sense, it was completely rational. you were staring death in the face, and with each kiss and each movement of his hips, kyle was laughing right back at it.

“i need you,” he whispered into your tongue, tugging at your underwear. you could only bear a nod, throat riddled with fear, uncertainty clawing at your chest. you’d never done any of this before, never felt touch like this, never let yourself be vulnerable enough to engage in such lewd activities. it only made sense for kyle to be your first, and hopefully you his.

all caution thrown to the wind, you pulled your underwear off, and kyle tossed his across the room. the sight uncovered before you made you gulp. he was large, well endowed, hiding much more than you imagined you could take. your loins ached at the thought.

you had no time to dwell on the large package he’d kept hidden in his trousers, two long fingers sliding into you with such suddenness you couldn’t hold back the drawn out noise boiling in your chest. being touched like this�� it was pleasant, overwhelmingly so, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. you writhed on the floor of your tribute quarters, fingers locked into his hair, eyes squeezed shut. you were shaking. a coil in your stomach was tightening, like a spring ready to snap. you couldn’t find the willpower to stop, lost in the pleasure of his fingers stroking your innards with such careful precision you doubted he was a virgin.

“kyle,” you gasped, back pulling off the floor, fingernails digging into his scalp. “kyle, i-“ you didn’t get to finish, your mind disappearing into a void, your legs quaking and dripping heat spasming against his fingers. coming back down, you spotted the utter shock paling his face, his fingers sliding out with dampened ease. a slight smile quirked his lips. you hated to admit it, but you certainly had a thing for his fingers. especially as he licked them clean of your nether’s juices.

“you’re too much,” he managed to chuckle, leaning so close your hardened nipples brushed his rib cage. you couldn’t help the high pitched moan ripped from your body, especially as something hard prodded at the same hole his fingers had just worked their magic on. a glance down revealed kyle’s cock, hard and swollen, prodding at your aching cunt. you widened your legs and held your breath in anticipation.

the first half entered with striking ease, forcefully expanding your inner walls to accommodate. it was a sickly sweet sensation, bordering on painful. the rest of it pushed in abruptly, pushing you apart far too rapidly for your body seemingly to handle. you could’ve cried from the tingle of unease, feeling raw and opened and vulnerable beneath the man you’d come to adore.

kyle’s face was tight, drawn up into a concentrated scowl, eyes squeezed shut and breath held in his chest. he didn’t move an inch, a patch of orange hair brushing your labia, thighs flush with yours. it took a moment to adjust to the new sensation burrowed within you. for the sensation to transform into the strangest pleasure you’d ever felt. an experimental wiggle of your hips, a nod, and a tentative move in and out. he brushed every nerve ending spanning your insides, every piece of your body, every spot you could ever think of.

it was so pleasurable you couldn’t breathe. every nerve ending was alight, buzzing under your skin with want. you wanted every piece of him, every inch of his body touching yours. his lips met yours in a bruising kiss, tongue brushing against yours, every tentative stroke of his hips and his mouth sending a jolt of electricity to the bridge between your bodies.

“i’m gonna-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence, a quaking sigh rippling through his chest. you wanted him, every inch to the fullest, every bit of him you could have. if this was it, your final chance at intimacy with your best friend, you were going to steal it and indulge in it and trap it within the binds of your rib cage. tomorrow wasn’t promised. tonight was the only thing that mattered.

his hips stuttered, a breathy moan passing from his throat to yours, a foreign warmth spotting your lower stomach. you could feel it leaking over your skin, pooling beneath you, and never once did you let him break the kiss. never once did you let him go. you didn’t think you could if you wanted to. arena be damned, kyle was yours, and you drank him like the last few drops of water left on the planet.

[unknownfacelessfanfictions]

Ours

Pairing: Hemmer x fem!Reader Fandom: Star Trek: Strange New Worlds Words: 1.3K Summary: The usually composed Hemmer is not quite so composed when it comes to putting the finishing touches to their home A/N: Just something short and fluffy. Not my best work, but I love Hemmer so much and there is not enough fics for him

Hemmer boasted of being a composed and very poised person. Grumpy, yes. Sarcastic and sometimes cynical too, but never nervous or upset. Always calm and collected. At least that's what he tried to tell himself as he paced up and down, looking rather nervous, ticking off a list of things to do on his PADD.

He knew she would tell him that was ridiculous. He knew that himself. However, he couldn't avoid doing it anyway, because Hemmer couldn't afford any mistakes this time. It had to be perfect. For them. For her. Hemmer looked around again to make sure everything was in the right place. At the moment he was in a small flat near Vancouver, in the middle of the living room.

It was an open, bright room, painted in warm beige with light ice-blue accents and carpeted in a fluffy white rug Hemmer had purchased from his birthplace. She had protested that it was too complicated, but he hadn't cared. It was worth it to him.

On the side wall, a fireplace crackled quietly, casting a warm light on the dark velvet sofa and armchairs arranged around a small coffee table, and the opposite wall covered by a huge bookcase. Hemmer's gaze slid over the room again, over the magnificent view from the window, , at least she had said it was one, and for the hundredth time he adjusted the cushions so that they lay at a perfect angle on the sofa. This was important. After all, it wasn't just any flat, it was theirs. Not his, in which he lived alone and simmered away, no.

For the first time in his life, Hemmer would be sharing a home with someone who was not his family, nor assigned to him by Starfleet. For the first time in his life, he had made it so far in a romantic relationship that it had become so serious that they would live together. In a flat. As a couple. And Hemmer just couldn't screw that up, the whole thing was too important to him for that.

He could practically hear his sisters sniggering already that their big brother had turned into a cheesy, lovesick softie, however Hemmer wouldn't have cared because he stood by it. He loved her and she deserved to have the best he could offer her. Whether she knew it, he did not know, however it was custom and an act of affection among the Aenar that one could provide a comfortable life for one's partner, that one could ensure that the other was warm and satiated. And even if she did not know this custom, Hemmer knew that it would fill him with the greatest satisfaction should it please her.

Hemmer knew that she did not know the custom because he had asked her about it once, indirectly, and she had denied it. He had been all the more surprised and admittedly delighted when they had found a flat together and, after ordering and buying the furniture and colours, she had asked him if he could furnish the whole thing. It had been noticeably awkward for her, however, Starfleet had ordered her back to San Francisco to deal with an emergency there.

Hemmer, inwardly brimming with pride, had assured her not to worry or feel bad, and when he had seen her off on the shuttle pad, it had seemed like a good idea to promise that the flat would be ready as soon as she returned.

While he still thought it was a good idea, he couldn't help but feel nervous. What if she didn't like it after all and he had done everything wrong? What if she decided she didn't want to live with him anymore and went back to San Francisco? What if he ruined everything?

Hemmer tried to calm himself down. His thought processes were illogical and not rational. They had chosen the furniture and colours and decorations together and she had been happy with everything. She had told him roughly how she imagined the furniture should stand and since he had mostly agreed, there were few changes Hemmer had made.

And even if she didn't agree with the whole thing one hundred percent, the way he had put it, they could still change it. Still, there was this small, gnawing part of him that harboured doubts and just hoped and wished that she would be instantly enthusiastic about it.

Just as Hemmer was about to go through the checklist one last time, the doorbell rang, informing him of his girlfriend's return. He quickly dropped the PADD on the sofa and hurried to the front door to open it. Although she had been given the code, she could be quite forgetful and Hemmer would not be surprised if she did not lock herself out more than once in the coming weeks. The door hadn't even slid completely aside when he felt her warm, welcome presence seconds before she threw herself around his neck to press her lips to his. Somewhat surprised, Hemmer wrapped his arms around her waist and for a moment he simply enjoyed the peace and quiet her presence brought him, even if her mind seemed louder than ever. When she broke away from him, however, she didn't let go, just pressed her forehead against his lovingly. "I've missed you." "Oh really?" Amusement resonated in Hemer's voice. " I haven't noticed." "Idiot." He could feel her grin before she pressed a kiss to his cheek and dragged her suitcase behind her, past him, into the flat.

Once again, nervousness began to spread through Hemmer and he took a deep breath before following her in. He needn't have worried, though. As soon as she entered the living room, he heard a gasp followed by a series of unidentifiable sounds. "Hemmer, this... this is..." She turned and Hemmer felt her step a little closer to him. "This is absolutely wonderful!" Again she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

"Do you like it?" "Do I like it? I love it! It's perfect!" Relief washed over him, followed by pride, which he tried not to show, at least outwardly through his antennae. He had made it. His mate was pleased and seemed comfortable, which, according to Aenar custom, was the acceptance of the gift.

For the next ten minutes Hemmer followed his enthusiastic girlfriend around their small flat and with each compliment his chest swelled a little more with pride. She was content and happy and that was all he desired.

Back in the living room, to his surprise, she pulled him down again and kissed him. This time the kiss was longer and more passionate, expressing all the emotions she had to say and which Hemmer was only too happy to return. "I love you, thank you." She broke away from him and seemed about to say something when she was distracted by something Hemmer couldn't immediately identify, only to realise with horror that it was his PADD with the list.

"No, wait-" he began, though it was already too late for that. He looked down at the floor as she read and wanted to sink into the ground when she raised her voice. "You made a list?" Hemmer could not make out any emotion in her voice and nodded slightly. "I wanted to make sure it was perfect so you'd be comfortable. A bit silly, probably, eh?" Nothing happened at first, when suddenly she lunged at him and squeezed him tightly, forcing the air out of his lungs. "Silly, old, sweet, lovable Aenar. You didn't have to worry about anything like that. Either way, it would have been perfect." "But why?" He felt her look up.

"Because you did it. For us. Because this is where we're going to live together. Because this is the place that belongs to the person I love the most, and to me. Because it's ours and that alone makes it perfect."

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

@bigblissandlove1 @akamitrani @moonlightshaiku @indignantlemur

[writercole]

Bound: A Sounds of Someday story

Summary: Jensen and Y/N have a strained month after their engagement. Words: 1848 Warnings: Childbirth (non graphic), anxiety. Credits: I'm pretty sure @flamencodiva beta'd this ages ago when it was supposed to be more than this. A/N: This is part of the world of Sounds of Someday. I haven't written RPF in over a year now so this is definitely an ancient wip that I'm bringing back for my dear friend @jensengirl83's birthday. I tried to find the master list for the series buuuut it's legit gone and I'm pretty sure that I deleted it. But I've linked the prologue (haha fooled you guys. The series is still there, just the ML is gone) and everything should be crosslinked. ANYWAY - this was born out of a challenge that Brandy set forth quite some time ago. My song was 'Turn the Page' by Bob Seger. I'm pretty sure I captured it well. Love you B! A/N 2: There is an entire story to follow behind this but I'm elbow deep in the rewrite and I'm also sure that the story that follows will be a separate book. But to all the fans of this series, I love you and cannot thank you enough. You can read the original again and the rewrite will be done hopefully in the next 6ish months. 😘

Jensen laid in the bunk on the tour bus and stared at the wall. The only thing he could hear was the sound of the engine roaring and the tires on the road. Everyone else was asleep except for the driver, Cliff. He’d tried to fall asleep but the only thing he saw when he closed his eyes was his fiancee’s face the moment she realized what he was doing on that stage two months ago.

Jensen dropped down to one knee in front of Y/N and her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped in surprise. “What better place to continue our adventure than on the stage where it began. Y/N, will you make me the luckiest man on earth and be my wife?”

He smiled at the memory as it played in his head again, comforting him while he rode several hundred miles east from Omaha to their next show. With a sigh, he turned over again, facing the curtain that was drawn across his bunk. The soft glow of the ambient nightlights filtered through a crack in the curtain, illuminating the beige walls and light blue of the curtain and bed linens. 

Jensen huffed as he swung his legs out of his bunk and padded to the common area. He sat in the corner of the black leather sofa and spread out from end to end, his feet resting against one end while his back was against the other. He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and pulled his phone out, opening the youtube app and hitting his favorites.

The video they recorded for Eric Church started playing softly, the strains of ‘Like a Wrecking Ball’ surrounding him as he watched their smiling faces filling his screen. A tear slipped down his cheek when the video switched to the one Gen had posted of the proposal. He fell asleep watching the two videos on repeat, like he had every night since he’d left her side.

Y/N sipped from the glass of wine that was perched on the edge of the bathtub. The bubbles had nearly gone and the water was barely warm but her eyelids were still refusing to get heavy. It wasn’t the same sitting in the house in Austin alone, it wasn’t the same sleeping alone. Jensen’s pillow smelled like him, but it was cold, too soft. 

Sighing dejectedly, she drained her glass and then the tub, stepping out onto the plush rug and wrapping herself up in Jensen’s soft robe. She inhaled deeply, comforting herself with his scent.

She crawled into bed again and pulled up youtube on the smart tv. She navigated to her favorites playlist and hit play. The sound of Jensen’s voice filled the room, a video from one of his first concerts with Corey. She watched several videos before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

“Jensen, man, what’s going on? You were a million miles away tonight,” Corey asked, his brows furrowed and his voice soft. They had just finished a show and Jensen had been sullen and quiet, his usual playful banter missing from their set.

"I have never been more ready for a tour to end. I like what we do, love what we do, but I don't know if I want to keep doing this." Jensen put his head in his hands and sighed deeply, willing the tears away. 

Corey sat next to his friend and put his hand on his shoulder. “I get it, man. I do. With Alicia due any day now, I’m questioning this life, too. It’s hard enough being away from my wife but being away from my kid? That’s going to be a whole other ballgame.”

“We haven’t even set a date or really had time to just absorb being engaged, you know? She was with us that night and the next, then she went back home to Austin and I haven’t seen her in a month and we can barely video call and -” Jensen felt his breathing getting shallow and his chest tightening, signaling the start of an anxiety attack. It had been a few years since his last one and was shaping up to be a major one.

“Steve, bag!” Corey yelled across the room. Steve took one look at Jensen and ran across the room with one of the paper bags that were kept on hand for the number of people dealing with anxiety on the tour. 

Corey handed Jensen the opened bag and walked him through breathing and grounding exercises, calming him down and getting him to refocus on the room around him. He handed Jensen a bottle of water and made sure he was okay before continuing their conversation.

“Look, Jay, it’s not gonna be easy, man. But we’ve only got a few more dates on this tour and then we’re off for months. You’ll be able to hang with us and your godchild, whatever that may be. You’ll plan the wedding, hell maybe even have the wedding. And it’ll all feel like a bad memory,” Corey offered half-heartedly. 

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded, swallowing hard. “Distant memory.”

The days passed in a hurry. The countdown progressed down to hours, just over 48 now. Two more days and Y/N would be back at this airport picking up her fiance’. But now, she had business to tend to.

It was nearly midnight when Y/N made it to the door of the apartment her best friends owned. She was staying with Alicia until either the baby was born or Corey got back from tour. Alicia insisted that she was fine but Y/N wouldn’t take no for an answer; it was her way of paying them back for everything they’d done for her since they’d met. 

“Alicia!” Y/N called as she walked inside, taking her keys out of the door and slipping them in her pocket. Alicia didn’t answer, but Y/N heard her cry out in pain. She rushed towards the bedroom, the direction the sound came from, and found Alicia doubled over, holding onto the door frame of the en suite and clutching her stomach. “Lee?!”

“Y/N. Thank god you’re here. I think I’m going into labor.” A splashing sound drew their attention towards the ground, a stream of clear liquid puddling on the floor at Alicia’s feet. 

“Pretty sure your water just broke, hon. Get your shoes, I’ll grab your bag and we’ll call the hospital on the way down to the street,” Y/N instructed, already heading to the closet for the prepared bags. As soon as she grabbed them, she was phoning the hospital and getting the information on the fastest way there and what she needed to do for Alicia in the meantime.

“Y/N, Corey,” Alicia panted as she waddled to the elevator. 

“Don’t worry, hon. I’ll handle everything else. You just focus on keeping that baby where it is until we get to the hospital.” Y/N said a silent prayer to whomever was listening that they’d make it in time and that she wouldn’t have to deliver a baby in the backseat of a cab.

Cliff had stopped at an all-night diner for everyone to get off the bus, stretch their legs, and have dinner before continuing on the next leg of the journey. There was still time before the next show, the last show of the tour, so he figured a break from the road was needed.

The group was situated at a long table, Corey at one end and Cliff at the other, quietly talking and enjoying their break. Corey’s phone rang and he looked at Jensen after checking the id. “It’s after midnight and it’s Y/N.”

“Her flight landed like two hours ago,” Jensen added, worry building in his gut.

“Y/N, what’s going -” Corey was cut off by Y/N talking very, very quickly and then handing off the phone. “Alicia, baby, are you okay? How far apart are they? How long until you get there? Okay baby, one of you call me when you can. I love you.” Corey hung up the phone and looked at the table. “Alicia is in labor. Y/N is with her. They’re almost to the hospital.”

The table was stunned into silence before a cacophony of reassurances spewed forth from everyone, turning the heads of the other diners, though no one seemed to care. They finished their meal quickly and headed to the bus, ready to get this final show on the road so Corey could get home to meet his kid.

Seven hours later, Alicia was holding a beautiful baby boy. She was exhausted but she was overjoyed, basking in the bliss of new motherhood. Y/N watched everything with a soft smile and tears in her eyes, happy for her best friends and already deeply in love with her godson.

Corey was video chatting with Alicia and the baby, assuring them that he’d be here tomorrow. That meant that Jensen would be here tomorrow as well. Y/N sighed in relief and shut her eyes, knowing that it would feel faster if she got some rest.

The performers on stage for their final date of the tour were nearly vibrating with anticipation, counting the seconds until they could run back to the tour bus and hop on their flight to New York. The crowd was enjoying every second and the energy in the arena was palpable.

Corey thanked everyone and bid them a good night, restraining himself from running off the stage. Post show drinks were skipped as everyone packed up as fast as they could, the amplifiers still ringing in their ears, and headed to the airport. 

The plane took off from South Carolina and landed in New York a few hours later. Corey and Jensen were scanning the crowd as soon as it came into view, chuckling when they spotted Y/N holding a sign that said ‘aging, washed up rock stars’ in bold black letters. 

She dropped the sign as soon as she saw Jensen rounding the corner of the walkway and ran to him, jumping in his arms with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

“I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Jensen whispered as he twirled her around. 

“Missed you more,” she replied as she buried her face into his neck. 

“What’s this about you picking up aging, washed up rock stars?” Corey jested from behind them.

She lifted her head enough to send him a glare. He tossed his head back laughing loudly, amused by the antics of his best friends.

“Can we wrap this up, please? I got a kid to meet,” he quipped, smirking at the couple. 

Jensen shifted Y/N onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry as she shrieked and the three of them headed to the baggage claim. 

Jensen took the wheel and drove straight to the hospital, dropping Corey off to go be with his son and wife. “Where to, sweetheart?” he asked when they pulled away. 

“Anywhere, baby. As long as I’m with you.”

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

Ah okay that makes perfect sense! I know how controversial of a topic it is and how sensative a lot of people can be since it's a touchy subject. So I just wanted to make sure it was okay before actually requesting anything.

So obviously take as much time as you need! This is in no way a urgent ask so please, don't feel pressured.

Could you write about Kuroo, Suga, Suna or Iwaizumi (I don't care who, you can pick from those guys<3) with a boyfriend who has like a lot of older scars, some that still kinda aren't healed and can tear open if not managed properly. Ooh like they find out about the cuts because the reader fucked up and accidenally stretched the skin too much and it started bleeding.

Also also, I really like your writing. It's so cute! Have a good night/day

Thank you for being so considerate! I hope this is okay, I might make another piece based on your ask that's a little more specific to your words, but this is just what came out when I got to writing.

In the end, it's domestic Kuroo comfort, hope you like <3

'Honey I'm home!'

Tetsuro loves the corny greeting, always comes through the front door with a cheesy grin on his face and kicks off his shoes, hanging up his blazer.

He's a man of habit, every day he announces himself to the home, and every day, his boyfriend greets him with rolled eyes and some witty remark.

Every day...except today.

After prolonged silence, Kuroo pauses, listening for anything in your shared him in search of his lover. Had he missed a text? You always tell him if you won't be home before him.

Just in case, he checks his phone, and finds that he hasn't heard a word from you since lunch.

'(Y/N)?'

He steps further into the house, skimming around moving boxes yet to be unpacked, turning down the hall to the bedrooms, only to stop in his tracks, staring at a glaring crimson stain on your beige carpet.

Worry gripped him and he immediately went into frantic search mode, calling your name louder while diving into the master bedroom.

The ensuite bathroom door was wide open, lights on, and he sees you sat on the edge of the bathtub.

You looked up, glassy eyed, but pulled on a sheepish smile. 'Oh, hey baby.'

'Hey, what happened, Kit?' His voice is soft, reassuring even as he takes in the faded, washed out blood in the bottom of the bathtub and the sink.

'I...I'm sorry.' You whimpered, wiping at your cheeks with your bare arm. 'I thought it'd be okay, but...'

Tetsuro knelt in front of you, checking that you'd already patched yourself up properly.

His hands are warm, gentle, tracing and mapping every mark, new and old, gingerly skirting around the ones you'd managed to damage by overworking yourself.

His touch calms the pain, eases your urge to glare at the marks on your own skin.

Content that you'd taken care of the physical, he cupped your cheeks, pads of his thumbs gently wiping away the tears and stopping you from rubbing your eyes any harder.

'Don't be sorry, okay? I've got you now, baby.' His words made the anxiety grow quiet, the warmth of him soaking into your icy, prickled skin while the kiss he pressed to your forehead made the pain seem a far off memory. 'Let's get you comfortable. Want me to carry you?'

'No, I'm fine.'

He fixed you with a suspicious look, and you relented. You didn't need him to carry you, but that doesn't mean you don't want him too.

Tetsuro helped you into comfortable clothes (his) and then wrapped you in the softest blanket you had before settling you on the sofa.

He cuddled with you for a while, nuzzling into your neck and planting playful kisses on any skin he can reach while murmuring about how his day went after you asked.

He doesn't ask, doesn't need to. He knows you far too well, knows that you need distraction for now. You can deal with everything going on in your head later, right now, you bury your face in your boyfriend's chest and convince him to order takeout so he wouldn't have to get up and leave you to make dinner.

'You know, there's no need to rush your healing, right?' Tetsuro purred, his arms securely around your waist, lips pressed to your temple. 'It doesn't have to be fast, or linear, taking a step back doesn't mean you can't go forward anymore.'

'I know. Thank you baby.' You could have purred under his attention, solidifying his nickname for you. "Kit" was a result of his first instinct to call you kitty, and your insistence that it made you feel like a neko anime chic.

'I don't see how that's a bad thing.' Kuroo had chortled. 'But if you don't like it, I can think of something else.'

'Sooo, KFC?'

You rolled your eyes, leaning up to steal a kiss from his lips. 'I love you, dork.'

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Twelve - “I’ll remember.” @sapphicmicrofics

April Daily Series - 968 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Over the last two hours, Dorcas has glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table at least a dozen times. She can’t relax enough to sleep and she can’t muster the energy to stay awake. Instead, she dozes off and on, then checks the time.

It’s an entirely unnecessary reflex. Even if her alarm clock didn’t go off, the other three alarms on her phone will blare in five minute increments afterwards. Dorcas is more concerned about disturbing her newest roommate with her ungodly early wake up.

So far, the first night was fine. Lily had to be assured twice that Dorcas didn’t mind her joining Pandora in their room. While she couldn’t say that she didn’t have some reservations about it, Lily had proven to be a considerate and helpful roommate already. She contained Pandora and kept her on this side of sane, plus she was fastidious to a fault.

Lily didn’t snore or smack her lips in her sleep like Pandora did, but Dorcas could sense her presence anyway. It was hard to explain, even to herself. The air felt different with three people breathing it.

I should make myself tea. I’ll remember to put white noise on tomorrow.

The thought of a warm, comforting cuppa propelled her upright. She wasn’t sleeping anyway and there was always casework to do. Perhaps she could catch up on it before work.

Dorcas padded all the way down the hall when a soft voice in the sitting room reminded her that they had a guest camped out there. An infuriatingly fit guest who had a habit of sleeping naked, if memory served. Which, of course it did.

She intentionally avoided looking in her direction, beelined for the kitchen, and closed the door behind her as quietly as possible. While the tea steeped, Dorcas collected her laptop from her bag and set up a little office area at the dining room table. Based on the sheer volume of emails she’d amassed this weekend, her entire day would be devoted to cleaning out her inbox.

Marlene’s voice drifted in through the door and triggered another memory: she occasionally talked in her sleep. It didn’t happen often when they lived together, usually when she was tipsy. She would roll over with her eyes closed and chatter about nonsensical things. Dorcas found it endearing back then.

“Hmm…is awfully cold,” Marlene muttered, pushing the kitchen door open.

Dorcas cast a fleeting glance at her to assure herself that her ex was not standing in her kitchen with her tits out. Thankfully, she had on athletic shorts and a sports bra. That was a compromise that she could accept.

“There’s a blanket on the back of the sofa.” Dorcas gestured vaguely at the door, but remained focused on her laptop. She wasn’t interested in encouraging conversation when she was half-asleep herself.

A long silence and lack of movement forced her to look up. Marlene stared blankly at the wall just inside the kitchen. She wavered a little from side to side, then gasped so suddenly it made Dorcas jump. “It’s blue! Why’s it blue?”

“What? It’s not blue. The wall is beige. The whole flat is beige,” Dorcas said, eyeing her quizzically. “Are you awake? Since when do you sleepwalk as well?”

“Fuck you very much!” Marlene shouted, flipping off the wall with both hands. “Maybe it’s your fault that it’s blue.”

“Seriously? Tell me this isn’t happening.” Dorcas closed her laptop and approached Marlene cautiously. “McKinnon?”

Marlene didn’t respond. She simply tilted her head to the side and frowned at the wall. It would have been comical to watch, if it weren’t the middle of the night.

Dorcas waved a hand in front of her face, then sighed. “Alright, back to the sofa with you.”

The moment she touched Marlene’s shoulder, the woman squealed, spun away, and bolted toward the door. A door that didn’t open out, only in. Dorcas flinched at the resulting crash and rushed forward to catch Marlene before she slumped to the floor. The wood vibrated against the doorframe in a rather vocal protest.

“For fuck’s sake, you’re bleeding,” she said, slowly lowering Marlene to the floor on her side. “Don’t move! Do you hear me?”

“What…the fuck?” Marlene closed her eyes and immediately reached for her face.

“I said, ‘don’t move.’”

Dorcas grabbed a handful of serviettes and swatted her hands away. She did her best to stop the bleeding, but she’d collided with the door nose first and it was definitely going to bruise. Dorcas wanted to scoop her up and cuddle her close, but she couldn’t. She had to maintain distance for her own sanity. The dazed and bewildered look on Marlene’s face wasn’t helping.

“What happened?” James and Regulus burst into the kitchen, half-dressed and half-panicked respectively.

“She happened,” Dorcas replied, gesturing at Marlene.

“Did you hit her?” Regulus asked, dropping to his knees beside her. “Bloody hell, that must have been quite a punch.”

Dorcas shoved him roughly. “No! She was sleepwalking and ran into the door.”

“Oh, Marls.” The exhaustion in James’s voice caught her attention. He rubbed a hand over his face, then leaned down to lift Regulus to his feet. “You, back to bed. Dorcas? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Great, go on back to whatever it is you were doing as well. I’ll handle the mess, and the blood.”

Dorcas handed him the serviettes and slowly stood upright. James shooed Regulus out of the kitchen and squatted down to speak in low tones to Marlene. She didn’t say much in response, but ducked her head when Dorcas stepped around her. Seeing her so vulnerable and lost pulled viciously at her heart strings.

Next Part>>>

[issybettyx]

EMERALD DUO GAMER AU

Strange title dont ask

Tdlr; Techno works at GAME, Philza is a well known gamer and also a common visitor of GAME. When techno gets this job, he doesn’t expect to become one of the internet’s most beloved gamer’s friends. (I’m watching the wilbur tommy and jack improv vid)

Or: Emerald duo being epic besties

-

The phone had to ring five times before Techno picked it up.

The first time it rang, Wilbur shouted up to him.

The second time it rang, he paused the video on his pc.

The third time it rang he shut his bedroom door behind him.

The fourth time it rang he got downstairs.

The fifth was just a few moments before he picked it up, Wilbur looking far too exhausted for having been sat on the sofa since he got home five hours before.

“Hullo.” He said into the phone, voice exposing how tired he was as he frowned.

“Is this Techno Blade?” They asked kindly, a smile clearly sitting on their lips as they spoke. It was a little strange.

“Uh, yes? Who’s this?” He asked slowly, meeting Wilbur’s eyes as the man looked carefully at him.

“I was just calling to say you got the job at GAME, you start at 9am on Monday, is that alright?” They told him, and his shock must’ve been clear on his face, Wilbur poking him over and over to get an answer, but he could hardly form any words from his shock.

He’d gone to exactly 37 interviews before this one, and he’d been rejected every time. Lucky number 38.

Wilbur had kept saying how everything happened for a reason, but by the 20th failed interview it seemed even he was wondering if the universe just kind of hated Techno. But now he finally had a job, possibly an extremely boring one, but it was a second source of much steadier income than Wilbur’s gigs and street performing.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You’re not joking? I got the job?” Techno asked them, and Wilbur’s smile was so wide he worried it would blind him. But the person simply chuckled to themselves, and for a moment he worried that it was in fact a sick joke.

“Yes, Techno, we’ll see you Monday yeah?” They asked, and he nodded before realising they couldn’t see him.

“Yes, thank you, see you.”

He hung up before they could say anything else, looking at Wilbur as he put his phone into his back pocket, a genuine smile on his face for the first time in months.

“You got the job?” Wilbur asked, and Techno nodded, not able to find words to express his excitement and relief. Wilbur stood up and ruffled his hair, a massive grin that felt way too contagious. “So proud of you man, let’s celebrate yeah?”

Most days, they just ate whatever they had in the fridge. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much. The only times they ever bought fast food for their birthday, which thankfully happened to be on the same day (Wilbur called them twins, Techno just said it was lucky and they could save money).

But, despite it all, he still nodded, letting his pride be felt if only for a moment.

—

The doors opened as he walked towards them, and Techno was welcomed by a soft breeze of air, and the moment he walked in a woman behind the counter popped her head up, a smile on her face immediately. “Hello!” She greeted, jumping over the counter and rushing towards him, holding out a hand, “You must be Techno, I’m Niki!”

Niki had similarly pink hair to his own, which is likely how she identified him. Her clothes perfectly suited her, a beige jumper with a white skirt, a pair of beige converse padding excitedly on the floor.

“Nice to meet you.” He replied with the biggest smile he could muster - it wasn’t great, and it looked a little forced - as he shook her hand, putting his hands in his pockets the moment she let his hand go. “So what’s the drill?”

“Well,” she started, walking past the shelves with a smile, “We mainly stand behind the desk, answer questions of customers, stock the shelves, and drink coffee.” She explained, making her way back around the counter. “Any questions let me know, alright?”

And that was that, his first shift had began.

And Techno would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited.

—

It was exactly a week after Techno’s first shift when something interesting happened. He was simply sipping his coffee that Niki had prepared for him before she left, having restocked the shelves already and no customers having entered in a good few minutes. Business wasn’t the fastest in the GAME, so as Niki had explained a lot of his time was spent drinking coffee.

The bell on the top of the door rang as they pulled open, and he had to bring his legs down from the counter because apparently it ‘wasn’t professional’ or something.

But the person who he saw walking down the aisle almost made him spit out his coffee.

It was the Philza. The Philza who was one of the most followed creators on the internet. The Philza who had better humour than Techno could even explain. The Philza who he’d been watching a few moments before he found out he got the job he was currently at.

The Philza, his blonde hair tied back in a ribbon, a green hoodie over a pair of jeans and black trainers. When he looked at Techno, there was a flash of realisation on his face, and he smiled, giving him a short wave.

“Hey mate.” He greeted, before going back to looking at the shelves.

After taking four deep breaths to compose himself and even his expression, Techno managed to get out from behind the counter, moving to stand beside the man as he ignored how his heart beat faster in his chest every moment.

“Do you need help looking for anything?” He asked slowly, getting a hum in return as Phil pulled out a game, looking over the cover.

“What do you think of this game? Ever played it?” Phil asked him, his voice even kinder in person and sending Techno stumbling for words. How his response was so calm, Techno had absolutely no clue.

“Minecraft? It’s pretty cool, I only played it once at my friends house.” He explained, rocking on his feet as he tried to hide his smile. “It’s a sandbox game, you can play survival, creative, hardcore-“

“What’s hardcore?” He asked, reading over the back of the case before looking up at the lack of a response, eyes going wide. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He apologised, and Techno took an extra four second to compose himself again.

“It’s alright man, hardcore is a version of the game where you can only die once, contrary to survival where you can respawn after death.”

Philza hummed again, moving towards the counter; Techno could only follow, opening and closing the gate to get behind it.

“So the stakes are higher? It’s more risky?” He asked, leaning his elbow on the surface and his chin in his palm, smiling at Techno who nodded.

“I’ve watched loads of videos on techniques to survive longer and different farms and armour types, it’s pretty cool.” Techno continued, scanning the game. “Anything else?”

Phil hummed for a moment, looking over the walls before glancing behind the desk and then at Techno’s mug of coffee.

“A coffee would be nice.” He asked with a grin, and Techno scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“We don’t sell coffee.” He tried, but Phil’s laugh made him half tempted to sell him one anyways.

“No, you seem cool mate, I’d like to go out for coffee some time, it’s never a bad thing to have friends.” Phil clarified, and boy oh boy did Techno see black spots across his vision.

For years he’d gotten home and watched this man’s videos. He revised to exams as he listened to his rambled, he cooked dinner as he listened to his story times. At times, he had his school friends quiz him on Philza general knowledge, and he got all 50 questions correct.

And now he stood, a week into his new job being casually offered coffee.

Wilbur was never going to believe him.

“Oh-“ he returned, staring as he tried to find words, but Philza took it very differently.

“You don’t have to! Don’t feel pressured, it’s an offer and nothing more, I know how scary it can be and you seem lovely, so I just-“

“When do you wanna go?” He asked, cutting the man off which a mustered smile that wasn’t at all fake, Philza pausing to look at Techno in shock.

“Tomorrow for lunch?” He offered, and Techno smiled, holding out a bag with Phil’s new game and his other for the man to shake. He took both.

“I’m Techno.” He introduced, and Phil smiled back.

“Philza, you can call me Phil.”

Techno was living the best life, smiling as he vowed to never wash his hand again (that was until Wilbur forced him to because germs and stuff).

Maybe everything did happen for a reason.

—

As Techno walked from his work to the local coffee shop, all he could think about was his conversation with Wilbur the night before.

In brief summary, it went something like this:

“I met Philza.”

“Excuse me what?”

“And i’m going out for coffee with him tomorrow.”

“You fucking what?!”

Except it was several hours longer with several more questions and a lot more smiles and laughs and disbelief.

And yet, despite his several times having a feeling he was dreaming, and the several times Wilbur shook his shoulders in a terrible attempt to help him comprehend the insanity of his situation, Techno still found himself counting his fingers as he walked, brows furrowed as he managed to count to ten every time.

Nothing made sense.

Just two weeks ago they had to have soup every day for dinner because they didn’t have enough money, and now Techno had a job and had the opportunity to sit with his hero for an hour?

Yeah, no, if he wasn’t asleep he must be dead. Maybe that would explain why he could count all of his fingers.

But when he looked up at the coffee store, nerves started to bubble in his chest as he reminded himself it was in fact real, and Philza was in fact sat inside.

The door opened with the soft ringing of a bell, similar to the one at his work but much kinder sounding. The first thing he noticed was the strangely loud chatter. The second thing he noticed was the crowd of people around a very specific table, and Techno so wanted to leave knowing exactly who was amidst all the excited people. For some reason, he only moved towards it, hearing Phil’s kind voice even over all of the talking.

“I’m out with a friend right now, you guys will scare him away.” He tried, and Techno could hear his fond smile.

“Will he be in your videos?” Someone asked, no malice in their tone or assumption in their words, just pure interest. But the question made Techno physically uncomfortable; drinking coffee with his hero was nerve-racking enough, but filming a video to be seen by millions was not exactly on his to-do list. Sure he loved playing games and sure he was pretty good at it, but only Wilbur had ever said he was entertaining (then again he only ever spoke to Wilbur, so that defence wasn’t exactly the best).

“Only if he wants to- now scatter.” Philza brushed them off, smiling as he watched them leave before he met Techno’s gaze, the latter looking between the retreating crowd and Phil, brows furrowed in thought. “Hey mate! Sorry about that, fans get a little… uh… what’s the word?” He drifted off, tapping the table as Techno took his seat opposite the man.

“Overbearing?”

“No that’s too negative, they’re awesome.” Phil responded without a second thought, looking out of the window with a soft smile. “They’re just a bit much sometimes.”

It was a little strange, being such a huge fan of Philza and having to sit there and listen to him talk about him in such a positive way despite it being such an offhanded comment. Part of him said he had to say he knew who Philza was and how long he’d been watching his content for, but the other part of him said Philza already knew.

A waiter walking over to their table saved Techno from his internal battle, except of all the waiters they seemed to give them the… strangest one.

He looked young, and also completely indifferent, pressing his pen rhythmically on his pad of paper. The kid glanced at Philza, eyes going wide before he suddenly looked like he enjoyed his job, bowing to the man. “Fantastic to meet you Philza, what can I get your graciousness to drink?” He asked, his smile unfaltering as Phil chuckled to himself, shaking his head fondly.

“Hey Tommy, I’ll just get a regular cappuccino,” Phil asked as he looked at the kid, a fondness in his eyes that was new to Techno; so far, everything Phil had said and done had felt so familiar, a feeling that came with years of knowing someone. But that look swirling in his blue eyes as he looked at this waiter that he apparently knew was so… strange. And yet it didn’t shock Techno at all.

“And for your awesome looking friend?” Tommy asked with a smile, motioning his pen towards Techno, the latter fidgeting under the eye contact.

“Surprise me.” Techno told him, smiling back as he crossed his arms over his chest. At this, Tommy looked absolutely delighted, smiling wider as he scribbled something down.

“Your hair is epic big man, never change.” Tommy told him, before skipping off into the kitchen, humming a foreign tune and leaving the two alone again.

“Tommy’s right you know? Your hair is awesome.” Phil commented, bringing Techno’s attention back to him as he rested his chin on the back of his hands, a content glint in his eyes. “When did you first dye it?”

Techno remembered the day perfectly.

He’d gotten home from college after a long day of studying and noticed a notification from Youtube, clicking on it and hearing Philza’s voice through his phone speakers. It was a play through of some game that Techno had forgotten the name of, but he knew it was very interesting to watch as Phil told the story of a kid he knew in school.

This kid spent day and night revising for exams, so much so that stress took over his life. Apparently, someone gave him advice, something along the lines of ‘make time for doing what you love, before you run out of time to do it’.

So, he went down to the shop after pausing his studying, grabbed a box of pink hair dye, and spent the evening dying his hair and making sure it was all even. Wilbur had helped him, making sure the back was fully covered and helping him rinse it afterwards. A lot of people had ridiculed him for it, but Techno found that he genuinely didn’t care, because he loved it and Philza had once said that other people’s opinions didn’t matter as long as you love it yourself.

“A few years ago.” He said instead, running a hand through it and reminding himself to touch up his roots some time that week. He hadn’t made enough time for himself recently, Philza would kill him if he knew him-

Oh wait.

Yeah he couldn’t say that anymore.

“Why pink?” He asked, his tone of genuine interest and not of disgust, and Techno found himself letting out a sigh, trying his best to hide his relief.

“It’s my favourite colour, thought it was cool.” Was what he responded, not bothering to go into depth on why it was his favourite, deciding that The Great Philza probably didn’t want to hear his ramble on colour theory and why pink was simply superior than yellow, and how Wilbur was always wrong no matter how much he insisted that yellow was nice because it reminded him of the sun.

“I like green.” Phil confessed, running a hand through his hair. “I like nature a lot, and I feel like it reflects that well you know?”

Techno knew Phil loved green. In fact, exactly 492 days ago he’d posted a video titled ‘green’, and it was 5:35 long of Philza explaining why he loved nature and why green was awesome. That was one of Techno’s favourite videos, it felt like Phil was speaking to him directly on one of his favourite topics.

“Nature is Earth’s oldest child,” Techno quoted, and Phil paused, looking up at him curiously and only making Techno sink a little further in his chair. “Don’t look at me like that, those are your own words.”

“You’ve been watching my content a while haven’t you?” Philza asked with a smile, leaning back in his chair with his head cocked to the side.

Techno probably should’ve responded with something. Maybe a ‘yes’ or an exact amount of days, even a nod or a smile would’ve been sufficient.

Instead, he only glared at the man, as if a silent challenge, and Phil only laughed more.

“I don’t like talking about work on my breaks,” Phil explained before anyone could say anything else, and that made Techno pause. “What cool things do you do in your free time?”

Tommy came over with their drinks whilst Techno was mid explaining the book he was reading in depth, ignoring the strange glance Tommy sent him as he watched Phil’s face turn from curiosity to engrossment, sipping on his drink as Techno continued on, taking tiny sips of his own drink (he didn’t know what it was, he didn’t exactly bother asking Tommy who at some point had slipped into a chair beside Phil, listening to the ramble himself).

“Wait- so, let me get this straight, he just… left? After everything?” Phil asked, frowning slightly as Techno nodded, taking a drink from his straw with a hum.

“He literally just up and left, and we don’t find out why until it’s too late.” Techno returned, and Phil looked out the window, brows furrowed in thought.

“Why did he leave?” Tommy asked, taking a sip of Phil’s coffee before grimacing. “Why do people drink this shit?”

That reminded Techno, making him reach into his pocket and pulling out a £10, handing it to Tommy who pushed it back towards him. “Dadza already paid for it, don’t worry.” He said with a smile, the man returning to the convention with a similar smile, nudging Tommy.

“What did I say about calling me that in public you little shit?” Phil asked with a grin, Tommy scoffing. Then, the man turned back to Techno, that same look shimmering in his eyes that he’d had when he looked at Tommy before, taking a moment to think something over before coughing. Techno braced himself for the worst.

Once, someone who wasn’t Philza had taught him how if you prepare for the worst, you’ll either not be surprised or be in an absolutely gargantuan state of shock. This was one of the latter moments.

“You and your brother, Wilbur was his name?” He asked, waiting for Techno to nod before continuing, “Yous can come to our house for dinner one time next week, how does that sound?” He asked, already scribbling something down on a napkin with a pen he’d pulled out of his jacket. Why the man just carried around a pen, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he made a mental note to do the same. If Philza did something, there was likely a reason for it.

“Heh?”

Phil laughed, Tommy stepping in for him. “We’re gonna order pizza for dinner, you guys should come it’s gonna be so fucking poggers.”

Whatever ‘poggers’ meant, it seemed like something positive judging by the kids grin.

And then something in his head clicked.

“Wait is Phil your dad?” He asked suddenly, Tommy nodding before the other could even get a word out, slumping into his chair.

“He doesn’t like people knowing, wants me to ‘live a normal life’ or some shit,” Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes. Techno knew, however, that the kid was thankful for it; he wasn’t sure how he knew, but something told him that afternoon that Tommy loved being a normal kid.

Sure he loved his Dad, that was clearly no secret, but there was something about how casually he held himself that said he was proud to just be any other kid.

“Well, send me a message or a call when you decide, and we’ll go from there, that sound good?” Phil asked, finishing his coffee before standing, Tommy staying in his seat likely from laziness. In his utter shock and admiration, Techno couldn’t manage any words, a nod being all he could force. As Phil walked past, he ruffled the hair on top of Techno’s head, messing it up. If it was anyone else, Techno would’ve been angry beyond belief, he would’ve muttered about how much he hated them and how long he spent on it.

But this was Philza. Philza could blow up his house and murder his parents and he probably wouldn’t care less (that may be a slight exaggeration, but thinking realistically it wasn’t too far fetched).

“It was nice meeting you Phil!” He managed to shout before the bell of the cafe rang, and the man turned back, giving the two a warm smile before letting the door shut behind him.

“Well Technoblade-“

“How do you know my full name?”

“I think you’re pretty poggers.”

Wilbur would never believe him. Techno knew there was absolutely no chance at convincing him of what had happened.

Techno’s life had went from a 5 to a 1000 in the span of 24 hours, and honestly he wasn’t too bothered by it.

“You’re not too bad yourself Tommy.”

Tommy mirrored his smile, jumping up to get back to work.

——

Me when me me when emduo, me when twinsduo pog :0

In this au, Phil isn’t a streamer, twitch is simply non-existent, Phil is basically the pewdiepie of this universe, everyone knows him and loves him, and techno’s like ‘i have literally no family and ur the perfect father figure so i just kinda made you my dad so this is absolutely terrifying what if i mess up oh god oh god oh god-‘

My phone is in spanish idk what any of this says what does ‘guardar’ mean? Post? I hope so, cus i’m about to click it. Hope you enjoyed :D

[tianufurniture]

The Art of Choosing the Perfect Modern Luxury Sofa Set for Your Living Room

When it comes to decorating a newly renovated living room, the sofa set takes centre stage in establishing the atmosphere. A modern luxury sofa set may elevate your home from ordinary to spectacular by combining design, comfort, and an air of elegance. But, with so many alternatives available, how do you choose the one that best compliments the style of your living room while still satisfying your comfort needs?

Think About Style & Functionality

Before you get started with colours and textures, think about the design and practicality of your modern sofa for living room. Do you like sleek and minimalist or soft and cosy? A premium sofa set is more than simply its appearance; it is also about how effectively it integrates into your everyday life. If your living room serves as a gathering place for visitors, a bigger sofa may be appropriate. A beautiful two or three-seater couch might be ideal for smaller, more intimate rooms.

Prioritize Comfort & Quality

A modern luxury sofa set is more than just an eye-catching item; it's where you'll unwind after a hard day, host movie nights, or simply read a book. Choose high-quality materials that provide durability and comfort. Look for high-quality textiles like velvet or leather, as well as soft but supportive padding. Remember that a high-end couch set should be as comfortable as it is attractive.

Choose the Perfect Colour & Texture

The colour and texture of your modern sofa for living room should complement your entire décor. Neutral tones such as beige, grey, or deep charcoal produce a timeless style, whilst vivid colours like emerald green or royal blue make dramatic statements. Don't be afraid to blend textures—smooth leather with soft, cushy cushions may offer depth and visual appeal to your area.

Finding the ideal modern luxury sofa set can quickly boost the atmosphere of your living room, transforming it into a fashionable retreat while remaining comfy.

[haveaseatau]

How to Style Ottoman Chairs with Different Decor Styles?

Over the centuries several types of good quality ottoman chairs were developed and are versatile as well as elegant in design. They can be placed anywhere, that is, they are versatile. But if you are wondering how to wear them with different interior designs next to other furniture pieces, you are welcome to read the following tips. Below are the tips that you should consider while selecting ottoman chairs that go with your home.

Modern Decor

For a modern decor style the chairs that are best suited are the ones with smooth lines in an ottoman look. Always go for a figure that is plain such as square or a circular figure. Leather ottomans are good examples of what is in the middle. It brings elegance to the interior designs and as well provides a smooth and polished appearance. Padded, black or white leather ottoman can be matched with a sleek or minimalistic sofa and weighted by an elegant cocktail table. This will develop a nice market scene of glamour and class.

Traditional Decor

When selecting an ottoman chair, always go for a chair with soft fabric materials. Designs which use fabrics such as velvet and tufting complement this look. Any dark shade of colour like burgundy or navy shade will look good in a traditional style room.

In turn, position it next to a vintage style armchair. This produces a nice environment for reading. An example of multi-functional furniture will also be an ottoman, for instance, it can be used as a coffee table. Place a wooden tray on top for the purpose of placing books or candles in it. This makes your living room look more classy or elegant in the simplest way that you can imagine.

Bohemian Decor

As it has been mentioned above bohemian style is casual and unconventional. Select the ottoman to be whimsical, and have a lively pattern or textural surface. To be more specific, it is better to choose clothes with bright colours and childish graphics. Bohemian style also involves having an ottoman with tassels, fringe, or any embroidery on it.

In a bohemian area, you may like to place a mix of different types of ottomans. The first one can be used as a chair while the other can be used as a stool. Layer the rugs and place floor cushions if you like the comfort of your living space.

Rustic Decor

Country style means that the beauty of nature is introduced to the interior. When selecting the ottoman chair it is advisable to go for a naturally occurring furniture such as timber or leather upholstered. Example of brownecke leather ottoman This kind of ottoman furniture is suitable to be placed in a rustic room. Accompany it with a warm chequered coloured carpet and a true stone built fireplace.

Coastal Decor

Interior design of houses on the coast is normally with light coloured material. It’s recommended that you should settle for an ottoman with pastel colours, such as white, blue or sandy beige. A woven ottoman fits right into the scheme of the house, and it is uniquely coastal. It will be best to put it on some enclosed porch or living space with a window and make it a comfortable nook.

Final Words

Premium quality ottoman chairs are a valuable asset to anybody’s house. Current versions of them can be integrated in numerous concepts, starting from contemporary to country. Ottoman chairs come in different designs and colours hence you can easily style them according to your home. Ottomans can be more traditional or contemporary depending on what you want for your home whether it is a modern comfort or homely look.

Also Read: Tips From Your Favorite Sydney Hospitality Pros: The Balance of Style and Safety in Hospitality Furniture

[getyourhomedecor]

How Do You Position A Rug On A Patio?

Your patio furniture may revolve around an outdoor rug, which serves as the unifying element. Therefore, choosing the ideal patio rug to complement your furniture requires some skill and attention to detail. The material, size, form, and design are some factors to take into account when selecting a patio rug.

In your outdoor patio setting area rugs are one of the most important elements. In fact, a lot of designers decorate around the rug first. It is the centrepiece of your outdoor arrangement, its main attraction. Choosing the ideal outdoor area rug for your patio requires careful consideration. If you want to buy garden rugs, outdoor rugs, beige rugs, or more, visit The Rug Shop UK!

There Are Two Guidelines To Follow When Choosing The Size Of Your Outdoor Rug:

Eighteen Inches of Space:

Ensure that the 18-inch open space border surrounding your outdoor area rug is left unoccupied. This will enable you to draw attention to your exquisite area rug. You can shorten this distance to 8 inches for tiny places. Seating areas using sofa sectionals should adhere to this general guideline.

24 Inches Around a Table:

Allocate 24 inches of space for padding around outdoor dining tables. This will prevent your chair's feet from slipping off the rug's edge when you slide in and out of it. Additionally, it will shield your wood deck's finish.

Creative Ways to Position an Outdoor Rug to Draw Attention to Your Space:

1. Put a rug beneath the table:

An eye-catching, vibrant, and weatherproof outdoor rug will liven up your outside eating space. In the event of a spill, you may quickly take out the hose and wash your rug thanks to this.

2. Enhance Spaces with Pattern and Colour:

No matter how big or small the room, the colour, theme, and pattern of an outdoor rug may instantly make it more beautiful. The rug can be used to complement existing elements in the room or to establish the concept or tone of the area.

3. Define or Assign Areas:

An outdoor rug can help you identify your outdoor areas and assign specific zones for various uses. Arrange furniture to create a conversation space around your outdoor area rug.

4. Go Big to Make It Cozier:

To make your outside environment cozier, think about laying down a sizable area rug if you have the room. Make your patio or balcony feel more like an interior living space by utilizing the outdoor rug's warmth and size.

5. Place Outdoor Rugs on Walkways:

Putting runners on hallways is one design expert tip for bringing life to areas that are often overlooked. You may use this on your balconies and patios as well. An outdoor rug can offer warmth and character to a tiny walkway that divides two sections of your patio or deck.,

6. Less is More:

If you don't have the space or money for a huge outdoor rug, it's still better to have a modest but well-designed floor covering than nothing at all. In your outside area, a smaller piece like the 5x7 outdoor rug could make all the difference.

How Should an Outdoor Patio Rug Be Placed?

You might also want to think about the intended function of your outdoor patio rug. Consider whether the rug has a functional use, such as providing entertainment for visitors, serving as a safety adjunct for wet concrete or decks, or something else entirely.

A popular and visually appealing solution for any patio area is to anchor a rug beneath chairs, but make sure you understand where to get and how to place rugs underneath furniture.

Consider the Shape:

When selecting an outdoor patio rug, the shape is yet another crucial factor to take into account. Your patio rug's shape can assist the furniture to stand out and add energy to the room.

The form you decide on may rely on your goals for the area as well as the way your patio is now shaped. Usually, a small table and one or two patio chairs are positioned beneath circular patio rugs to create a cozy space for chatting or reading.

When it comes to rug forms, there are no hard and fast rules; instead, when you purchase the rug, make sure you know exactly what you want the area to appear like.

Which Rug Size Is Best for Your Patio?

That depends on several factors, chief among them being the size of your patio!  If your patio is small and rectangular, you might want to think about obtaining a patio rug that fits neatly inside the space and doesn't take up too much space. We offer a variety of sizes for our outdoor patio rugs; the smallest is 2'0" x 5'11", while some of our larger rugs are 5'3" x 7'5". To make sure the size and form fit well, we would suggest measuring the size of your patio before purchasing patio rugs.

Consider the Pattern:

Selecting a design is among the most enjoyable tasks! Think about choosing hues and patterns that complement your current outdoor design theme. This guarantees a well-designed patio's consistent look and appealing design flow.

Consider placing a black or light blue chevron rug with white or cream contrasting stripes beneath an outdoor table or sofa, or using it as a runner along one side of the pool to draw attention to contemporary outdoor furnishings in shades of grey, black, or white. If the natural wood of your patio table and chairs are your styles, go for a solid colour like rust, orange, or red to make a warm contrast.

Consider the Material:

Natural and synthetic materials are the two categories from which to pick. Seagrass, hemp, sisal, and jute are examples of natural materials. These fibres provide strength, absorb sound, and give your room a unique texture. They are long-lasting, although prolonged exposure to rain can cause mildew and other damage.

Olefin is the most widely used synthetic material (a form of polypropylene fibre). It dries fast, is lightweight, stain-resistant, and easy to clean. Outdoor synthetic rugs are typically less costly than those made of natural materials.

[shoppingplanet2024]

The Artiss Lansar Armchair and Ottoman in Beige with its iconic design and high-density foam padding is the missing piece for peak relaxation.

Upgrade your living room with our gorgeous beige set with premium fabric for a soft and inviting feel. Our Lansar Armchair and Ottoman is a perfect combination of charm and chic for your home or any space. 

Relax in style in its rich high resilience foam padding that ensures comfort.

So what are you waiting for? Place your order now!

Want to check out our product? Browse https://shoppingplanet.com.au/products/artiss-armchair-lounge-chair-fabric-sofa-accent-chairs-and-ottoman-beige 

[hwangism143]

bigger than the blue sky (preview)

synopsis you loved kim seungmin and were terrified of it. so much so, that it was killing you. that was, until, yang jeongin came armed with a manga and a will to make sure your love didn't end you.

pairing non-idol!jeongin x fem!reader, non-idol!seungmin x reader

genre hurt, angst, comfort, fluff, university au, hanahaki au, roommates to lovers, slow burn

warnings mentions of death, mentions of blood, food and eating, swearing, slightly suggestive (only jokes), mentions of dying (more to be added in the actual fic)

hanahaki primarily deals with death. please do not read if triggering.

word count (preview) 1.5k words

release date late july/early august (?)

a/n i love love, even if it's an unrequited shit show.

send in an ask or reply below to be added to the taglist

preview down below.

"You can wait until the rain lets up," Jeongin offered as he slid the key through the keyhole and opened it with a soft click.

The door creaked on it's hinges, offering you a view of Jeongin's apartment. You had never been here before, so you took the time to observe it carefully. The apartment was small, with two bedrooms, a living room and a dimly lit kitchen.

It was surprisingly neat for somebody like Jeongin and very artistic too. The entire apartment was decorated in muted shades of beige and brown, which gave you an overwhelming fear that you might inadvertently end up spilling and staining the furniture.

"Oh, Hyunjin decorated it," Jeongin called from the kitchen. He had offered to make you both some ramen and knowing that no wasn't an answer he would accept, you conceded.

You took your time taking in the entire apartment. It was pretty, a place where you would have no qualms about living in. Somehow, even in the rainy atmosphere clouding the outside, the entire apartment looked cheerful. It must be a sight to behold when light poured through the windows.

But maybe the comfort the apartment exuded was because of the fact that the apartment was Jeongin's. The boy who never dropped his smile.

The apartment had smaller, more personal items that made it seem like a home. Pictures of Jeongin, his brothers and his parents and him at graduation adorned the fireplace mantle. A Gojo bobblehead was on Jeongin's coffee table and a copy of Death Note lay half open on his beige couch.

"How have you never spilled food on the furniture?" you asked Jeongin.

Jeongin snorted. "I am now a master of removing stains from all surfaces."

You shook your head with a laugh and made your way to the window seat right next to Jeongin's bookshelf. Pulling your legs up, you sat on the seat and watched as the droplets of rain scurried down the glass, ants rushing to feed their queen.

A familiar feeling started from the depths of your stomach, gliding upwards through your esophagus. Soft paddings hit the walls of your throat. You let out a cough and saw six rose petals lay in front of you. Letting out a shaky breath, you picked them up and placed them in your pocket. You turned to Jeongin, who hadn't noticed what has happened.

You had to distract yourself. Pondering on the morbid thoughts of murderous flowers and devious love would do you no good. It would only send you on a downward spiral and you had cried enough for a day. You would deal with the reality of the situation tomorrow.

Your eyes traced the path of two droplets of water that kept flowing towards each other but wouldn't quite meet. Every time they came close to each other, the larger of the two deflected it's path and the droplets moved parallelly. That was, until the larger droplet laced itself with a smaller one while the original droplet flowed along the path of the two now combined droplets, never meeting.

Maybe that's what you and Seungmin were. Parallel lines never destined to meet in any sense of the world.

You diverted your gaze to the books on the bookshelf. Dropping from the sofa onto the carpeted floor, you ran your hands over the multiple volumes mangas and other assorted novels that nestled in the shelves. You hooked your finger through a novel titled The Greatest Collections of Love, bringing it to you.

Jeongin walked towards you, two bowls in each hand. "Oh, Hyunjin gave that to me. He says it's because I need to be more cultured, but he probably just understood nothing." Jeongin sat cross-legged on the floor and pushed a bowl of ramen towards you. "I read the first poem but I couldn't process anything, so I quit reading it."

You looked up to meet Jeongin's eyes and murmured a silent thanks. He began slurping up his ramen while you moved yours a bit towards to front, one leg folded underneath your body and the leaned up against your chest. You propped your chin on that knee and flipped through the pages of the book.

"Want me to read one of my favorite verses from a poem in here?" you asked, mentally prepared for denial on his part. But Jeongin surprisingly responded with an easy, "Sure."

Jeongin found the way you thought about the world fascinating. Nobody in the friend group was a stranger to the fact that you had a hard time with social interaction, being barred from it your entire life.

But when you spoke of literature, Jeongin saw a spark within you, burning with passion. Your entire face seemed to light up at the prospect of speaking written works. And although he could never fully understand your musings the way Jisung and Hyunjin did, he always displayed a curiosity towards knowing how you felt about the only things known to him that truly felt like home to you.

(He also found it quite ironic that you had such an unfiltered obsession with the Fine Arts with Specialization in Writing as a Biochemistry student, but never voiced as such. Although he believes that a book written by you would be intricately detailed and a knowledge unattainable by a mere mortal like him who only relied upon books with pictures. But he digresses.)

Your voice melodiously pierced through the quiet that wafted through the air.

"How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me."

You both sat in silence for a moment, a pregnant pause heavily held between you two. "It's called The More Loving One by W.H. Auden. Give it a read," you suggested. You slid the book back into the empty space where it was on the bookshelf.

Jeongin watched you with a tilt of your head. "You look as if you wish to tell me something."

"I do," you stated. "But it's too soon really."

You offered him a twisted smile. "Fall in love, Yang Jeongin. Maybe then you would recognize the depths of my yearning and despair."

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Jeongin and you ate in silence. The rain felt unceasing, beating down on the earth in a furious frenzy. It felt as if the earth was weeping with your heart, eroding into the crevices of the land the way weeds wound their way into your soul.

It was a feeling that you would never get used, companionship.

All your life, your loneliness festered within you like an unkempt forest. It grew roots of apathy that dug into your very being and branches of animosity that covered your personality in a thick canopy. It was rare for anything to penetrate through the covering of your forest, where birds rarely sang and insects took caution to reside in.

Then Seungmin came, with his entire friend group, all of them chopping off the ugly tree that swept through you and replacing it with a flower garden in beautiful hues. The flowers were still shoots, but they would grow, and so would you.

Reaching into your pocket, you pressed the switch of your phone in a long press, having turned it off before meeting Ms. Jeon. You were about to take the last bite of your ramen, when your phone start vibrating in your pocket repeatedly.

Jeongin exchanged a glance with you. He tried very hard to contain his laughter but it slipped out, and you couldn't help but give him a smile. Taking out your phone to check why it was so active all of a sudden, your ramen was left forgotten.

Your heart sunk to your stomach.

"Is everything okay?" Jeongin asked. The smile on your face fell as swiftly as it had appeared.

"My landlord has increased rent for all the tenants of our apartment and I..." your voice trailed off as worry rushed into your mind.

You couldn't possibly pay a higher rent. Even with your internship, it would be impossible. There was only a month to pay the current rent. How would you find a house in time? Where would you go? What could you possibly do to-

"You should move in with me," said Jeongin matter-of-factly.

"What?" you whipped your head to face his.

"Look," said Jeongin, "We've known each other for almost a year. I have two bedrooms and we can split the rent and responsibilities."

You bit your lip in contemplation. You enjoyed your solitude, but you didn't seem to have any better option right now. Jeongin's rent was extremely cheap and his apartment was close to your university. Not to mention that you trusted Jeongin with your life, especially since you both had been through thick and thin together (in other words, the victims of intense bullying from everyone older than).

"I'm not saying this out of the goodness of my heart. I can't cook for shit," laughed Jeongin. Something in your expression must have told him that you were thinking against it because he quickly added, "You know what, forget it. It's stupid, I'm sorry."

You looked at Jeongin with an apprehensive stare. You knew you had to run all possible outcomes in your mind, but you also knew that this was the best, and quite frankly, the only feasible outcome in such short notice.

"I'll think about it," you told him, even though a part of you had already made up it's mind.

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy @kayleefriedchicken @toomanybiasz

@seooj444 @soaplickerrr @nappynapnaps @lina-linny @yrqrnc

: ̗̀➛ b2tbs taglist: @kayleefriedchicken @brainrotahahaha @minluvly @stayinlimbo @toomanybiasz

[bestlasermachineforhairremoval]

Best Recliner For Back Pain

Best Recliner For Back Pain – For those who suffer from chronic back pain, the quest for relief is a paramount concern. An often overlooked ally in battling back pain can be found right in your living room – the recliner chair. With so many options available, finding the perfect one to cradle your aching back can be overwhelming. This comprehensive guide will lead you through the recliner jungle to find your back pain oasis.

Top 5 Best Recliners for Back Pain

#1 – Flash Furniture Rachel Contemporary Multi-Position Recliner and Ottoman with Wrapped Base in Burgundy LeatherSoft

Customizable Comfort: Soft LeatherSoft upholstery, fire-retardant foam padding.

Relaxation: Integrated headrest, plush arms, adjustable fit.

Convenience: Easy recline control, 360-degree swivel.

Health: High back design aids circulation, relieves stress.

Maintenance: Simple spill cleaning with water-based cleaner.

Product link: https://www.amazon.com/Flash-Furniture-Contemporary-Burgundy-Recliner/dp/B005G6Z4V8?th=1

#2 – Longstreet Rocker Recliner with Massage, Heat and Dual USB ports, 38.5D x 36W x 39.5H in, Beige

Multi-functional: The 60-701008M Massage Recliner rocks, reclines, massages, and includes two USB ports.

Convenient Charging: Dual 2A USB ports charge devices simultaneously.

Versatile Placement: Fits well in den, media room, or man cave.

Comfortable: Soft foam cushioning ensures comfort.

Customizable Massage: 8 motors, 5 intensity levels, 9 modes, with optional lumbar heat.

Easy Control: Hand remote, auto timer, gentle rocking, and easy reclining.

Affordable Luxury: From Relaxzen, offering innovative massage seating at an accessible price.

Product link: https://www.amazon.com/Relaxzen-Massage-Rocker-Recliner-Microfiber/dp/B075Y2SRZN

#3 – Amazon Basics Swivel Foam Lounge Chair with Headrest, Adjustable, 26.3″D x 23.5″W x 13.7″H, Grey

Versatile Swivel Lounge Chair: Crafted with a sturdy metal frame, this adjustable lounge chair is perfect for immersive gaming, indulgent reading sessions, or cinematic experiences.

Plush Comfort: Experience the epitome of relaxation with its memory foam construction, offering luxurious support and cushioning.

Personalized Seating: Enjoy tailored comfort with multiple adjustable positions, catering to the needs of small adults, kids, or teenagers.

Space-Saving Design: When not in use, simply fold it down effortlessly for compact storage, ideal for maximizing space in any room.

Hassle-Free Setup: Skip the assembly hassle as it comes fully assembled, ready to provide instant comfort and enjoyment.

Product link: https://www.amazon.com/AmazonBasics-Swivel-Lounge-headrest-Adjustable/dp/B07Q2PGH2P

#4 – Signature Design by Ashley Ludden Ultra Plush Manual Rocker Recliner with Tufted Back, Dark Brown

Budget-Friendly Comfort: This recliner offers plush comfort without breaking the bank.

Luxurious Feel: Enjoy ultra-plush upholstery with stylish detailing for added comfort and sophistication.

Variety of Styles: Choose from a wide range of designs, fabrics, and colors to match your taste.

Easy Delivery: Your purchase is carefully packaged and delivered promptly for your convenience.

Trusted Source: We provide stylish furniture, lighting, rugs, and more to suit every budget and style.

Product link: https://www.amazon.com/Ashley-Furniture-Signature-Design-Contemporary/dp/B00LNMWTBW

#5 – Recliner Chair for Living Room Winback Single Sofa Massage Recliner Sofa Reading Chair Home Theater Seating Modern Reclining Chair Easy Lounge with Fabric Padded Seat Backrest

Stylish & Comfortable: This recliner chair blends modern design with classic comfort, perfect for any living room or office.

Easy Relaxation: Kick back and destress with its foot extension and reclining back feature.

Breathable Fabric: Stay cool and cozy with its breathable fabric cover.

Quick Setup: No fuss assembly, just slip on the back and attach the legs in 2 minutes, no tools needed!

Customizable Massage: Enjoy 8 massage functions and 3 intensity levels for ultimate relaxation, including a focused waist massage.

Product link: https://www.amazon.com/Recliner-Winback-Massage-Reclining-Backrest/dp/B081478CFS