#custom bedroom throw pillows

[darrenishedwig]

Rustic Bedroom - Master a medium-sized master bedroom in the mountain style, with a beige carpet and blue walls, but no fireplace.

[pricew]

Master - Bedroom Mid-sized mountain style master carpeted and beige floor bedroom photo with blue walls and no fireplace

[nynaevedesign]

Rain Bedroom Step into a serene bedroom, where a graceful bedframe with a curved headboard takes center stage, radiating sophistication and comfort. Flanking the bed, sleek nightstands with minimalist design elements offer functionality and a touch of understated elegance. Above, a sculptural pendant light hangs like a work of art, casting a warm and inviting glow that sets the perfect mood. Opposite the bed, a contemporary dresser with clean lines and subtle details provides ample storage while maintaining a modern aesthetic. Nearby, two geometric ottomans add a pop of visual interest and double as a stylish seating option. To complete the look, the walls are adorned with fluted wall decor, adding texture and depth to the room while enhancing its overall sense of refinement. Set includes Bedframe | Bedding | Bed Cover | Throw Blanket | Throw Pillows | Nightstand | Dresser x2 | Dresser x3 | Ottoman V1 | Ottoman V2 | Pendant Light | Mirror | Fluted Wall Decor Patreon Early Access Public Release: 10/31/2023

[mikellis]

Master in New York Mid-sized, modern master bedroom design without a fireplace

[homecraftedbysakthi]

Handcrafted Decorative Pillows

Elegant handcrafted decorative pillows are more than cushions—they’re statement pieces that transform spaces with warmth, personality, and elegance. Crafted by skilled artisans, each pillow tells a unique story, blending artistry with functionality. From intricate embroidery to eco-friendly dyes, these creations showcase exceptional craftsmanship and sustainable practices. Perfect for living rooms, bedrooms, or outdoor spaces, they enhance any décor style, from modern to rustic. By choosing handcrafted pillows, you support ethical artistry while adding timeless charm to your home. Explore the beauty of artisanal design and create a cozy, sophisticated retreat with these versatile, eco-friendly treasures.

[pillowswardrobe]

Vibrant 'This is My Place' Decorative Pillow – Personalize Your Space with Style

🌟 Transform your space with a burst of color and personality! 🌟

https://pillowswardrobe.etsy.com

Check out my new style of pillows, featuring the vibrant "This is My Place" decorative pillow. It's the perfect addition to mark your personal territory or add a playful touch to any room. Available in two versatile sizes, it's designed to fit your unique style and needs.

Make your corner truly yours today! 🛋️✨

https://pillowswardrobe.etsy.com/listing/1722063646/this-is-my-place-throw-pillow-modern

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ darry rings - are limited to one per lifetime, emphasizing that love should be exclusive and irreplaceable. true love verification ensures each customer can only buy one ring.

includes: itoshi sae! x reader. 0.9k wc. fluff hehe

you are unable to believe the outrageous actions of your boyfriend. this time, his doings were diabolical to the point of no return. “get out!”

you push itoshi sae out the door in a fit of frustration. his sigh is so loud, it feels like it’s echoing in your head, only making your irritation worse.

“this is my bedroom,” he deadpans, as if stating the obvious will reverse his sudden eviction. it doesn’t work. you’re already diving into the duvets with a determined scowl.

“what are you even doing?” he asks, his tone tipping into annoyance. he narrows his eyes when you march a little closer and throw his pillow into his arms.

“you’re sleeping on the couch,” you declare, voice firm, matching his now sour expression. “and actually, that pillow is way too nice. hand it back.”

he blinks, baffled, before the "too nice" pillow is snatched away and replaced with a sad, flat one that looks like it’s seen better days.

sae stares at the new pillow and then at you. this is so absurd, so far removed from the usual luxurious facade of his life, that the ever-composed itoshi sae actually laughs.

“you’re forgetting something,” he says suddenly, catching your wrist and pulling you closer.

“sae! let go!” you yelp, squirming in his grasp.

“are you seriously this upset over that cheap ring?” his tone is somewhere between exasperation and amusement, as if he should've expected such a reaction.

“it doesn’t matter if it was cheap; it was mine!” you hit his chest with a fist, glaring up at him. “and you hid it!”

“because i got you a better one,” he says, his eyebrows raising slightly, as if that explains everything.

“well, you could’ve just said that!” you huff, shoving his arm. “i was freaking out, thinking i lost it!”

"why do you even like that ring so much?" sae asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s debating whether this argument is even worth his energy.

"because you gave it to me in high school!" you snap back, arms crossing dramatically. "i've spent more time with that ring than with you!"

he freezes, the weight of your words sinking in. the usual sharpness in his expression softens, and for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you. his gaze lingers on you, quiet and heavy with a mixture of guilt and something unspoken.

it's true. he knows it. he knows just how many times he’s failed to be present for you, how many moments he’s missed, how many nights you’ve spent waiting for him to come back—both physically and emotionally. each time, each goodbye felt like he was leaving behind another piece of you. your glassy eyes were all he would remember during those long flights.

but that's exactly why he's been wanting to do this for a while. because, although he might not make it obvious, itoshi sae is more attentive than you think.

he reaches into his pocket. the movement catches your attention, and when he pulls out a small velvet box, your breath hitches.

“is that...” you begin to question, even though the answer is obvious.

he opens the box, revealing a sleek, elegant darry ring. it gleams under the soft light of the bedroom—intricate, expensive, but graceful instead of loud, the kind of thing only sae could choose.

“i didn’t hide your ring to be an ass,” he says, a rare gentleness lacing his tone. his firm hand captures yours and slides the perfectly fitted ring on your designated finger.

"i wanted you to have something better," he brings your jeweled hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss. "something worthy of you."

"i wanted to sign my name to you."

you blink, your chest tightening, and before you know it, you're rushing forward to throw your arms around him in an impulsive, tight hug.

"you're an idiot, sae!" you voice, sound coming out teary-eyed.

a moment passes without either of you saying anything. he just holds you tighter, as if making up for every moment he couldn’t be there. then, he chuckles softly, a low, soft sound that fills the space between you.

you pull back just enough to frown up at him, your hands resting on his chest. "you're laughing?!"

sae, with that trademark smirk, tilts his head slightly. "do you like it?" his voice teasing but with that edge of sincerity you know so well.

you scoff, still holding on to his shirt, a little stunned. "are you seriously asking me that right now?" you mumble, though your heart is already swelling.

"i love it," you finally smile, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "i love it, sae."

he leans forward, the tug of his smile remaining. "yeah?" he inches closer, grabbing you, leaving no room for escape. "how much?"

"so much.." you manage to whisper against his lips before he fully dives in for a kiss.

his lips move gently against yours, tasting the words you just spoke, savoring your happiness. it’s soft and tender, and deliberately slow, as he prefers.

when he finally pulls back, you're left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. you glance up at him, suddenly shy, feeling a soft blush creeping on you.

"you're still sleeping on the couch," you point and smile, face full of mischief.

sae shrugs, his expression slipping into one of playful indifference. “fine. but you’re joining me.”

before you can even protest, he scoops you up effortlessly, your squeals of protest only providing him amusement as he holds you securely in his arms.

"okay, okay! you can sleep on the bed!"

a/n: me ignoring my 1k wc essay to write a 1k wc sae fic 👍🏼

[djcalcos]

Kids Room - Teen An illustration of a mid-sized transitional boy's room with a medium tone wood floor and multicolored walls.

[twispicalstephen]

Bedroom Charlotte Bedroom - mid-sized coastal guest bedroom idea with white walls and no fireplace

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

[allpiesforourown]

Binghe would go crazy for body pillows if he ever ended up in a modern world.

Now I'm just thinking about modern bingyuan and binghe makes his own custom body pillow after his best friend.. shen yuan visiting and binghe is like "fuck I better flip it over and hide the sexy side where he's wearing lingerie and blushing... no wait it would still be weird for me to sleep with a body pillow of my friend even if he's fully clothed in the picture.." so just before sy opens his bedroom door binghe throws a blanket over the pillow

Shen yuan just sees a covered lump on binghes bed and binghe hurriedly pushing shen yuan out of the room in a fluster and shen yuans like oh my God. Binghe has a girlfriend and he didn't tell me about it.

He's happy for binghe. Really. Seriously. 😐🙁😕😐😒

Shen yuan being jealous of a body pillow of himself is such a funny thought

[aloesarchives]

JJK Drabble #2

Tw/Warnings: Fem!Reader, Fluff, Fluff Brainrot, Domesticity, Family Man Toji, Usage of Wife and Mom, JJK Oc added

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Reader: Female, Usage of Wife and Mom

AU: Modern/"Toji Lives" Au

(A/N): I'm back! Well, kinda of. Long story short, dealt w/college stuff and had a health scare that kept me away from writing. Also had a mini burnout too. More is explained here!

Thinking about Toji taking up crocheting and knitting because he saw how expensive yet cheaply made certain items like blankets are made. So he buys a simple set to try it out, following Youtube tutorials and watching videos for ideas. Once he masters the basics, Toji is LOCKED IN once again. Making full on hand-made blankets, scarves, hats, mittens/gloves, stuffed animals, covers/cases, bags, scrunchies, even damn rugs. Anything you ask him for, he’ll make it. This ends up being very practical to Toji because he saves so much money by just making them at home himself. It has to be the premium, natural, good quality type. Organic cotton, wool, cashmere, alpaca/llamas, silk, linen, mohair, bamboo, hemp, all of that. Tell him about polyester or something and he tells you to put that shit back. He buys the premium yarn nearby, locally, or gets them imported internationally. Gets every and any colors because he never wants to be limited when making his projects.

There was a throw blanket you wanted for the couch but it was expensive and the size was a lot smaller than you hoped. The next day, you come home to see Toji making it for you. The same color but better quality and inexpensive, and it was the size you wanted too. You were happy and amazed that he made it within a day. Living off your praise and approval, Toji just makes everything. Since he can’t get carpal tunnel or arthritis, his hands and wrists never get tired from working. Though, his posture does get bad and his back aches from being hunched over. The blanket in your bedroom with Toji? He made that shit with fucking love and care. He actually made multiple ones depending on the weather and season. 

Man has even made throw pillows, regular pillows, water bottle cases, table cloths, coasters, bags, cushions, and made your own curtains. I mentioned before that everything in your home was either made, customized, or renovated by Toji. This stays TRUE because almost all the pillows and blankets in the house are his creation. The blankets and pillows that cover Megumi and Tsumiki’s beds? All Toji. Both pillows and blankets match each other and are in respective colors for the two. Megumi has one at his dorm because it gets cold over there and he hates sleeping in the cold. 

If you are a stuffed animal fiend, like me, you ask Toji to make you any stuffed animal you want. Definitely make squishmallow dupes for you if you asked him. In your personal room/office, there’s a pile of stuffed animals in the corner from Toji that you pluck one from the pile and hold it while relaxing or walking around the house. The ones he loves to make are bees, dragons, whales, dolphins and dogs. And they’re so soft and huggable, you squeeze them all the time. Toji just grins to himself knowing the things he makes brings you and the kids happiness.

Toji “Anything my wife wants, my wife gets. No questions asked” Fushiguro

It’s normal for you to come home to see Toji crocheting/knitting away at something. You either find him in three places at home: the engawa in front of the courtyard and garden, the family room with the shoji doors open, or in his personal room/office. Mostly, he sits outside sitting on the engawa working away at something. It makes him work better, or so he says. Makes his own needles and hooks because of his big hands. Megumi still has his crocheted stuffed puppy when he was younger, still going strong even though it’s been worn down from love. Tsumiki has all the Sanrio characters knitted/crocheted as gifts from Toji.

Tsumiki always wears her hair up in a ponytail, Toji makes her scrunchies in her favorite designs and colors. Her favorite cardigans and pullover sweaters that keep her warm during fall and winter were made by Toji because he wanted to try making outerwear. Luckily it worked in his favor. Tsumiki asked Toji if he could make her a tote bag because she needed a bag for outings. She comes home from school one day to see three of them in different sizes. She has those cute little flower keychains on her school bag and outing bags too because she asked Papa Toji for them. The massive white and blue circle rug in her room is from Toji.

Megumi’s winter scarf, earmuffs, and hat are made by Toji too. Megumi will never admit it out loud but he appreciates that Toji made it for him. They keep him and he doesn’t feel the wind chills nipping at his face. Megumi also appreciates his dad for making his stuffed animals. I’m projecting here but Toji made a set of plush stuffed animals after his shadows. His divine dogs, all of them. Megumi keeps them on his stuffed animal net in the top corner above his bed. Megumi wears a jacket and hoodie made by Toji all year round because of how versatile they are. In general, they’re Megumi’s favorite clothes to wear too.

Thinking about asking Toji to make a present for Nobara and Yuuji on their birthdays. You asked Nobara what her favorite color and style was while Yuuji said he wanted a new hoodie. Toji makes them pretty fast and the two are in love with their gifts. Nobara is wearing her bag EVERYWHERE, and I mean, EVERYWHERE she goes. Yuuji, like Megumi, ends up loving his hoodie that you always see him wear when he’s in casual clothes. Since Nanako and Mimiko grew up with Megumi and Tsumiki, one of Nanako’s cardigans and a pair of her socks are made by Toji while Mimiko only has a random plushie Toji made for her when she was younger because Suguru had to clean the other one.

Not me thinking about how Tsumiki, Megumi, and Mayumi(JJK OC) baby blankets are handmade by Toji himself with their own individual design and patterns. Megumi and Tsumiki’s are still in good condition even though they were lovingly used by the two throughout their whole life. Their baby hats, socks, and certain outfits were all made by him. He keeps them all in individual boxes to not lose them. Gets sentimental and nostalgic that you catch him staring as he holds the small clothes in his big hands. Reminiscing about Megumi and Tsumiki being babies and small children, now realizing that they are growing up before his eyes.

God, all of it is thoroughly well knitted and crocheted that people thought you bought it from a store. “No, actually my husband made it for me. Isn’t he skillful and amazing?” Your friends and co-workers lowkey ask you if Toji is willing to take commissions for them. They’ll pay for it obviously but they want good quality home-made items Toji makes which gives you an idea. You asked Toji if he considered making orders for other people besides his family. He did think about it but he said he would get overwhelmed when receiving orders and packing them up. You asked him if dealing with the orders and packaging them would help him change his mind. So you unintentionally set up a small business with Toji. His shop consists of blankets, bags and baskets of any kind, pot holders, rugs, coverings, and pillows. It runs where one week is for receiving orders, one month is for making them, and another month to send them out. Making a spreadsheet/list for Toji to show what he needs to make. Probably gets finished with all the orders in two weeks or something.

For some reason, Toji wears eye-glasses when he knits and crochets. You don’t know why but it makes him more handsome that your brain rots/short circuits every time you see him working away. He got you all flustered and down bad it’s insane(but absolutely valid). But you don’t understand why he would need them since he already has better vision and eye-sight than 99% of the population.

“Honey, since when do you need glasses?”

“I need it so I don’t strain my eyes when working on them?”

“Can you, like, squint? You already have 20/10 vision. You don’t need glasses when you have superhuman vision, Baby.”

“Doll, just because I have good eye-sight doesn’t mean my eyes aren’t as sensitive. My eyes are still bugged by light, shit hurts and gives me headaches. Anyway, can you pass me the blue yarn in front of ya?”

Megumi and Tsumiki always see you with their Toji. You’re chilling and minding your own business with their baby sister napping away while Toji is working away at a rug because he is bored. Even though he’s been doing this since they were young, the two still can’t get over how their dad can make a king-sized blanket(start to finish) in four hours. Or when they come home from school and see Toji finishing up on a big and long green dragon, turning to Megumi and Tsumiki asking them, “Do you two think your mom would like this?” Or they could be chilling then Toji asks them to try on the projects he finished to see how they look. Tsumiki and Megumi are his main critics, you are too but you aren’t bothered by certain details to criticize Toji’s projects so he leaves it to the kids.

Mayumi(JJK OC) is chilling by Toji as he’s working away, either sleeping away or playing with her stuffed animals close within sight. Being the three year old she is, she sometimes hides underneath the unfinished blankets and pops up from under to surprise Toji. Papa Toji gives his iconic DILF chuckle that has you  GEEKING and GIGGLING like a damn school girl when you get the chance to hear it every time. He just pats her head, calling her a little rascal or princess, then resumes.

I’m projecting once again but you know those cute crochet dolls? Like the ones with the big black eyes, big head, small body, and no mouth? Toji made those of the entire family. There’s one of himself in his iconic black compression shirt, white sweatpants, and kung fu slippers. He added a little scar too where his mouth would be. Then there is your’s, all pretty and pristine with your iconic outfit. Toji getting your colors and features down to the bone. Next is Megumi and Tsumiki, literal carbon copies of their real versions. Toji said Megumi’s hair was the hardest part to make lol. Then Mayumi’s doll is later added once she’s born. The mini Fushiguro Doll set sits on the top shelf of a pristine black display case, next to the tv, in the family room. 

He’s the type of guy you wouldn’t expect to be good at a skill like this then later found out he’s an absolute master and god among men. Toji doesn’t parade around craftsmanship because he knows how some guys have fragile egos. But he won’t shy away when people ask him about his work. Pulls out his phone to show people the things he made with two needles, one crochet hook, and a shit load of yarn.

Satoru, being the shitter he is, tries to tease and bully Toji about it. To which you reprimand and scold him for it. But Toji doesn’t care about dealing with his antics because it’s a practical skill and keeps him out of trouble. Then you remind Satoru that his winter scarf he always wears was made, the one you gifted him for his 18th birthday, was made by Toji at your request. Satoru never wore any scarf because he thought you made it for him. But for you to tell him Toji actually made it for him, Satoru shuts himself up and doesn’t shit on Toji anymore.

Toji loves it when his family uses/wears the things that he made. Usually wears a goofy smile or grin on his face to conceal his prideful yet satisfied self, knowing his creations are appreciated and loved by his family.

Tag List:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife

Tag List(@ w/ no links):

@szillx @g0th1xac1d @SleppyAnn @kneelarhmstrung

[a66-1]

starving.

Simon x Fem!Insecure!Reader.

Part 1 | ???

TW: Talk of ed's, negative self talk, low self esteem, bad mouthing (from reader to herself, comes with the territory) cursing, self harm. i tried not to be too descriptive with the reader, so EVERY insecure girlie who reads this feels seen. (these tw are for the whole thing, im pretty sure this is gonna be a series)

a/n: hey. if you need help, dm me. ill talk to you if you need it :). (also i made my banners. if you want one dm me! i make them for free, just with credit :)) NOT PROOF READ

i hope your doing okay honey.

Stepping out of the shower, the towel around you just big enough to touch ends is slipped around yourself. Showering is getting harder. You can barely stand glancing at the mirror now.

You dry yourself off, and hand the towel back up. You can do it, just walk past the mirror to grab your clothes.

You take the steps past the mirror, and turn your back to the mirror to change. Slipping your bra on, and it squishes the skin on your back and you grimace.

Once your dressed, you turn back around. The nagging voices are just waiting to pounce. I mean, what? You used to be so skinny.

You used to be pretty.

You decided to let your hair air dry, and you walk into your bedroom. You had work today, but you really wish you didn't. It was a bad week, you'd skipped 3 meals in the last few days and you know what your therapist would say.

'The progress you've made, hun. You can't go back now.'

The bad days are getting too close to each other now. You used to have at least a week between them, but now it's barely 48 hours. Maybe being off medicine isn't working good anymore.

Maybe you're no good.

You throw in a big hoodie, one that covers you, and some sweat pants, glancing at the big mirror in your room.

You can't stop analyzing yourself.

There's not one good thing on you is it?

Fuck.

The rest of the day was spent at your stupid 9-5, with your stupid boss, in your stupid, lonely life. Christ, being off anti-depressants is really hitting you hard. Everyone at your job is stupid and today every customer who wants to blow you ear off about how you kids these days, by the end of the day, your so tense that your shoulders are aching.

You got about 30 minutes left at this off-brand kroger store, when a big, big ass man walks in, shoving a mask with a skull print on it on. You curse to yourself, you really don't want to have to call the police for a robbery, you just want to go home.

To be honest, if he had a gun, you'd be half tempted to let him shoot you-

"Ma'am?" A heavy British accent came from your right. You turn your head, and scan his few items. You don't bother with the how are you's and you sigh.

"It'll be 16.84." You drag your eyes to his, and he reaches to his pocket, pulling out..

A wallet. What else were you thinking?

He hands you a twenty, and you hand him his respective change. He bags his own items, because honestly, you seem like the only worker in the store. Your face is written with exhaustion, whether it be from this job or something else, and the guy notices.

"Have uh... A good day." He nods to you, and walks off.

You purse your lips, and sigh, closing your cashier, because fuck finishing today. You're too close to a breakdown, and you're not trying to let anyone see.

You drive home, your hands tight around the wheel. You know it's a bad idea to be driving this emotional, to the point you wonder what would happen if you swerve your car into a tree.

You won't do it though.

You need to get back out there. It's why you stopped taking your meds.

You promise yourself that tomorrow you'll go out, and at least get a one night stand, you want need, anything.

Once home and in bed, you scroll and scroll and scroll. Doom scrolling is too common on these longer nights. You have a pillow tucked into your arm, and your hand squeezes it every time that pang in your lower chest rings out. Loneliness, you think.

You always scroll through your old friends instagrams or snapchats, seeing their nice bodies and nice boyfriends. You've been so nice and kind and karma should be on your side, but it always failed.

Especially after your last boyfriend.

Your friends say to wait.

To wait.

To wait.

But waiting is getting harder. Days are getting longer, and your head seems to spin more when left to its own devices. Why do you have to wait?

Your looks.

Your personality.

Who'd wanna be seen with you?

You flip your phone over, and shove your face in the pillow, your breathing staggered.

You fell asleep late, that night. The tears brought you to exhaustion.

woah why did this take 2 tries to write.

be waiting for pt.2

TRUST FINALS ARE SOOM COMING TO AN END and summer i will be STEWING TRUST!!!

Taglist!

@i-am-hungry-24-7

thank you for all the support. drunk simon blew up and im crying bc i came back after a 2 year hiatus and i wasn't getting the same feedback as usual so to finally seeing people enjoy my work again makes me feel great. <3

sorry simon wasn't in this part much. you gotta know the reader first tho, right?

bye babes..

-a661

[steddieas-shegoes]

nothing but my jacket on

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'jacket'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated e | 797 words | no cw | tags: modern au, slice of life but make it sexy, consensual somnophilia, frottage

🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥🧥

Eddie hangs his jacket by the door as he quietly locks it behind him.

The house is silent and dark except for the light above the stove.

He rarely has to be gone this late, but when he is, Steve makes sure to leave his dinner in the oven, a light on in the kitchen, and the bedroom door cracked to welcome him home. He isn’t that hungry tonight, the loss against UConn is a hard one to swallow and he barely got over the anxious energy of the locker room before he left.

He decides to shower first, then maybe he’ll be hungry enough to eat.

When he walks into the bedroom, he’s met with a snoring Steve, asleep on his stomach with a pillow squeezed to his chest, hair a mess, and-

Eddie breathes out slowly.

Steve’s wearing Eddie’s custom Bruins jacket from their first year playing.

All the players got one that year. It’s surprisingly soft and comfortable for something that looks like it was meant to be worn for semi-formal events.

It has Munson across the back above the spiked B, and 86 on the sleeves, with a yellow stripe along the bottom hemline. Eddie keeps it in the closet because he doesn’t feel right wearing it when he doesn’t play for the team.

It looks really good on Steve, though.

Even with the drool hanging from his mouth. Maybe even especially because of it.

It’s a reminder that they made it here, through years of separation, through every conflict they had to face individually and together.

Steve wearing his jacket feels like a full circle moment because it is.

Eddie strips down to his boxers and throws on whatever sweatpants are sitting on his side of the bed. He can shower in the morning; He wants to get in bed with his soon-to-be husband and hold him.

He curls around Steve as much as he can, kisses the back of his head, and closes his eyes.

“Hey,” Steve rasps out.

Eddie opens his eyes and smiles as Steve turns in his arms to face him.

“Hey, baby.”

“How was the game?” Steve’s eyes are heavy, but his lips are curled up in a soft smile.

“Not great. Lost 5-2. Got some work to do before we face them again in a couple weeks,” Eddie pecks Steve’s lips. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Missed you.”

Eddie melts. “Missed you, too. Go to sleep, sweet boy.”

“Mkay,” Steve says as his body relaxes against Eddie’s.

Eddie can feel that Steve’s naked under his jacket, not even wearing underwear. He probably had every intention of fucking Eddie when he got home, but he’s clearly too tired.

His fingers trace the number on the sleeve and Eddie lets his mind wander.

He thinks about Steve riding him while wearing his jacket. He thinks about Eddie being fucked hard, face in the mattress. Steve claiming him while Eddie’s name is on his back. He thinks about pushing Steve against the wall, eating him out until he can’t feel his legs.

His cock is hard, twitching against Steve’s hip. Maybe if Eddie moves a few inches to the side-

“You can,” Steve slurs out.

Eddie’s face turns red.

“‘S why I wore it.”

It would be a waste if Eddie didn’t, right? Steve’s giving him permission. It’s the exact amount of steam he needs to blow off to fall asleep.

He ruts forwards, and the friction of his pants and Steve’s hip against his cock is perfect. He bites back a moan as he picks up the pace, in a rush to get there now that he realizes how much he needs this.

Steve hums, but doesn’t say or do anything to help, already so close to falling asleep again.

Eddie buries his face into Steve’s hair, whimpering into the mess of it, hoping it’ll contain as much of the desperate noise as possible. He’s leaking through his boxers already, close enough that even the tiniest change in pressure will probably send him over the edge.

He reaches his hand down, cups his length through his pants, and squeezes.

He shakes through his release, eyes roving over the visible parts of ‘Munson’ on Steve’s back.

“Love you so much,” Eddie whispers.

There’s no response, but he didn’t expect one. He slides his pants and boxers off with one hand, throws them off the side of the bed to take care of in the morning.

He knows he should get up and shower, or at least wash the drying cum from his pubes before it turns into a disaster.

But the exhaustion that overtook Steve is now sinking into his own bones.

He closes his eyes, breathes in the smell of Steve’s mint shampoo, and drifts to sleep.

[syeren]

“How they would comfort you” — JJK MEN HEADCANNONS.

GENRE: Fluff, mix of comedic comfort, overall comforting auras <3

________

GOJO

gojo is so unserious please

if we’re talking about teenage!gojo, good luck.

atp you gotta help yourself with your own comfort because HE would do anything and everything to make you one of two things:

angry or trying to be angry at him but end up laughing

“Please?”

“No.”

“C’mooon—“

“I said no.”

Gojo lets out a huff in annoyance, mimicking the same movement as a child as he juts out his lower lip. “You’re no fun.”

You gave him a look, a look of pure disbelief and awe as your own boyfriend was throwing a tantrum. During your shift at work, it was obviously not the best. With customers blazing in with drink orders that stacked to the bottom of the sticker, spill-mishaps, and that bitchy manager of yours… You opted to vent to Gojo in hopes to ease your mind. Well… You had hope, atleast.

“I’m literally having the shittiest day and you—“

He cut you off, widening his eyes largely while staring into the depths of your soul. You had stopped talking as you also stared him down, not wanting to back off from the silent fight of eye contact. Copying him, you too enlarged your eyes with tears threatening to prick themselves close.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, still holding the eye contact. Without blinking, Gojo responded back in a monotonous manner.

“Looking.”

“For what?”

“I dunno.”

“You’re hopeless.”

The fight continued on, seconds passing as both of your eyes reddened from the lack of moisture. The air felt chillier, and any gust of air that passed both of your pupils would be deadly to this competition. You swore silently you wouldn’t lose this battle, and intensified your gaze with your eyebrows furrowed. Upon doing that, however, the sight of Gojo’s unblinking eyes and silent tears rolling down his cheeks was definitely a sight to see. You stifled a laugh, not wanting to ruin your opportunity to win until you let it out. Your shoulders shook as you giggled loudly within the bedroom, wiping the tears away as Gojo returned the same enthusiasm.

“W-Why the… Just why?” You asked, still heavily confused about the whole eye contact competition, but finding it ultimately amusing. You calmed yourself down, letting out the occasional breathless chuckle.

“I would rather you let out happy tears than sad ones. So, turns out I won anyway.”

“Fuck you.”

________

NANAMI

the BEST comforter, hands down

tbh i’ll say this honestly rn,,, i wasn’t a big nanami fan previously but even i would tell this man would be sooooo great at making you feel better

puts YOU firsthand, no objections

if you end up objecting tho, then he will take matters into his own hands

“I can take care of myself, y’know?” you stated firmly, trying to push off Nanami’s strong grasp around your arms. The man in question simply heard you cough once, and deemed it as a sign of you getting sick.

He let out a gruff sigh, not responding to you with words but through his actions, hoisting you up easily by your thighs and carrying you to his king-sized bed.

“One cough and you think this is the end of the world!”

“That one cough can end up making you think that the world is ending for you,” he retorted back, placing his hands on his hips as he finally situated you onto his bed; the plush duvet covers instantly swallowing you whole.

“You always think you can handle yourself,” he continued, pulling the duvet covers up and gently lifting your head from the pillow, fluffing it up a bit before placing you back down. “If you really want to try and take care of yourself, I will not dismiss that… However…”

He crouched down beside the bed, balancing on his haunches as he smiled softly at your tired expression.

“… At least let me aid you a tiny bit, love.”

________

MEGUMI

this hoe istg

hoe in a loving way by the way, pls don’t track me down

BUT! since this boy is SO nonchalant and passive, however he has that certain side to him that makes him so welcoming and warm. it’s charming, to say the least.

it’s like he knows you and your quirks so well that you didn’t even notice them at first

You and Megumi were walking hand in hand down the busy street of Tokyo, Harajuku, in hopes of finding the cute café you were eyeing a couple weeks back. You were astounded, of course, but Megumi was getting a little antsy of not being able to locate the café you had your sights upon.

“We’ve been walking for ages,” he sighed, matching his pace beside you through the busy streets. You gave him a look before flipping your attention back to the map on your phone, staring hard at the complicated details provided.

“No wait— Ahh! Maybe we take a left over here?” you said, turning abruptly which caused Megumi to be swallowed by the crowd. You whiplashed your head to the side to locate him, but to no avail, he was gone from your side.

A slight rise of anxiety started to bubble up in your chest until warm, slender fingers laced around your own. Peering up, you saw your boyfriend instantly by your side once more, leading you through the crowd wordlessly. Never once did he loosen his grip, it was firm and gentle. A tiny squeeze of his hand alerted you to look at him again, to which a little smile was plastered on his face.

“Hurry up. I found the café you were trying to find.”

You didn’t notice the same café’s address was in his phone’s search bar, though.

________

YUJI

LORDDDDDDD

golden retriever boyfriend right here

so undeniably understanding and prioritizing to your needs, no wonder he looks up to nanami a lot

i feel like he’d be the type of boyfriend who would go through a spontaneous, yet step-by-step routine to pamper you

You were over at Yuji’s house, unwinding and relaxing while playing on his PC. Well, trying to unwind and relax, but the stupid game you wanted to try out wasn’t going so well.

“Fuck!” you screamed out, running your fingers through your hair and tugging at your scalp. “I got the same character pull again!”

Yuji peeked over at the screen, apparently this game had a gacha system implemented in it. Certain number of pulls have a higher chance of a guaranteed character, but you weren’t so lucky.

“There’s no hope…” You groaned out, slumping back in your chair as Yuji inches closer to the screen. He eyes the character displayed on it, annoyingly mocking your very state.

“Can I try?” he asks with a wide, toothy smile.

You huffed out a sigh, glancing over back to the screen briefly before back at him. “I only have like… One pull left, but knock yourself out.”

He excitedly moves his body closer, instantly clicking on the character banner you were trying to get and watched the pretty hues of blues and yellows swirl around. Tiny sparkles littered the blackened screen, before—

“Is this a good character?”

Huh? You adjusted your torso once more and sat up to look at the screen to see the desired game character you’ve been wanting to get. This entire time, now gotten from the lucky hands of Yuji.

“Huh?!” you exclaimed loudly, eyes wide at the sight before you. There was no way that he pulled the character you were ogling over— One you spent your hard earned in-game currency on as well as losing every single time.

“I’m guessing he’s good! Judging that reaction of yours—“

“Fuck off,” you said with a distasteful tone, but a wide smile playing on your lips.

________

an; so basic but so cute 🫶

[killxio]

bluecollar!reiner headcannons

word count: 725 [ 2 min 40 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: smut, kitchen sex, blue collar men :/ but a good one, p in v sex in general, fingering.. uhhh

bluecollar!reiner x black!reader / constructionworker!reiner x black!reader

✭ you and your blonde-headed personal bob the builder

bluecollar!reiner who does construction and pools.

bluecollar!reiner who sleeps like a LOG. like, has rolled over ontop of you on multiple instances and it’s taken having to literally slap him to wake him up.

bluecollar!reiner who absolutely throws down at cookouts and get togethers, you and your friends and family are just so good in the kitchen and babyboy needs to EAT.

bluecollar!reiner who works so hard because his favorite view of you is on a beach, or poolside at a fancy resort taking his cock in a risky, barely covered blind spot.

bluecollar!reiner who, 8/10 times cannot sleep without your manicured fingers scrubbing at his scalp or smooth palms scanning over his body and rubbing soothing circles.

bluecollar!reiner who sometimes brings you small bouquets if the landscape of the construction site he’s on has some pretty ones for the taking.

bluecollar!reiner who saved the petals from those flowers and proposed to you surrounded by them.

bluecollar!reiner who walks so hard for literally no reason. :/ like, he comes home late after pushing through the end of his customers pool build and i stg you think the rapture is occurring. it took you a few months of dating to get used to the fe-fi-fo-fum ass walking he does but even sometimes he still manages to wake you up.

reiner finally emerges in the bedroom after putting away his lunch box and heavy work boots to see his poor poor fiancé glaring at him from underneath a pillow.

“i woke ya’ didn’t i?”

“yes mister braun. you did.😐”

bluecollar!reiner who does that thing in the gym where he uses you as a weight for his pull ups sometimes. your lock screen is a photo of you smiling as reiner is doing a pull-up and you can see his abs on full display overhead.

bluecollar!reiner who looks forward to the massages you give him every night, working out the knots in his shoulder blades, soothing the aches in his biceps..

bluecollar!reiner who thanks you for the massages by doing you one better:

the plat plat plat of his dick sliding in and out of you resonates through the room, and your back is arching off the wall. reiner was supposed to be carrying you back to bed after a show and a massage on the couch, but here you are only halfway down the hall and coating his dick in cream.

“please please kiss me” you plead, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten and swell.

he huffs a little and between your deep kisses you can feel the stubble of his beard.

“reiiiii ‘m gonna cummmm” you whine, looking at him with that hazy glint in your eyes as you release on him.

“good girl, so so good for me doll.”

bluecollar!reiner who’s socials are empty besides a few photos of you or you and him and MAYBE a selfie.

bluecollar!reiner who you send video rants to throughout the day to keep him company while he works. he responds with videos of his own if he can.

you open the video reiner sent twenty minutes ago.

he’s propped his phone up on the back of his truck, his work shirt is absolutely covered in wet cement so as he’s responding to whatever you said in your previous video, he’s taking off his shirt and putting on a new one.

“.. oh yeah and lunch was amazing. not burnt or overcooked. thank you princess.”

his video ends after a quick wink and pop of his gum. meanwhile, you’re thinking about the way reiner was far from concerned about his lunch while you were trying to make it. he had you bent over the counter, knuckle deep in your cunt and tongue circling your clit. reiner wasn’t focused on anything besides the way your wetness was dripping down his arm, but you’re busy struggling to keep tell him about the food on the stove.

“r-rei baby.. i have- fuck.. i have your lunch for t-tomorrow- ah.. on the stoveee.”

“uh-huh.. god this pussy is so fucking delicious.” he says, only coming up for air for a brief second and continuing to ravage you.

bluecollar!reiner who has a photo of you on the dashboard of his work truck.

bluecollar!reiner who loves letting you ride him slow while he talks over the plans and spreadsheets for the next big project he has.

bluecollar!reiner who loves you to the moon and back and will build anything for you.