#if these go well I’ll open more slots!

[alchemocha]

Commissions open! 3 slots available!

Opening 3 slots this batch, reserve a spot while they’re available! Payments will be taken through PayPal invoice or kofi! For orders above 150$, payment plans can be discussed if desired

Feel free to message me here, on Twitter @alchemocha, or through my email, llunarghost@gmail.com!

Terms of Service below

[nikoco11]

hi serious talk time! not my usual kind of post and it’s going to be a little long, sorry! but i’d appreciate some help with sharing 🙇

recently my very very very close friend tads got kicked out from their home alongside several members of their family, including a teenager.

they have emergency commissions open currently! here’s a really cute animated gif of a character i designed they did for me!!!!! this could be you and ur oc!!!

below i’ll link their kofi alongside their twitter, but i’d like to request just as a personal favor that you tip them extra (or even just send a couple dollars and don’t comm at all) to help lighten their workload.

their slots are also limited so if they’re sold out already, just toss them $5!

i love ‘em a lot and know personally that even drawing a little, esp for an emergency like this, takes a huge toll off your energy and health and i don’t want them more stressed out than they are.

thank you always!! here’s their twitter as well

( their tumblr @tadsdy but they’re not as active here!)

[retiredteabag]

soft toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - next

synopsis: Toji takes up dog-sitting for you and learns to appreciate his new job, in more ways than one.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. There was a point in his life where he hardly went a night without desiring to scrub himself clean, erase his mind from the meaningless actions he continually put his body through. Defiling himself for the pleasure of another. At one point he can recall being so jaded he couldn’t even enjoy the act anymore.

This is why he feels so spoiled with the jackpot of a job he found. Dog sitting was something he had never even considered, the previous Toji would have laughed at the thought; but my God, was this a steal.

Feed the beast, take’m for a walk and hang around for an hour or two? And for $75 a visit? Sold. He felt he had fallen into the lap of luxury, he never even had to deal with the rich, prissy owner (who apparently was a workaholic) but no worries, they made sure to leave him dainty notes expressing their gratitude.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I appreciate you stopping by to spend time with my boy, please don’t hesitate to have any of the food in the pantry/fridge! I’ll be back late so please feed him dinner. Thanks a ton!” - y/n

Below the note would be his cash. Sometimes it would be more if they requested him on short notice, or like today, Toji couldn’t quite figure out what they meant.

“Mr. Fushiguro, thanks again for stopping by, I know you said you weren’t busy but I feel bad taking your time on a holiday. Please get yourself a treat!”

What was today? He wondered, meandering the house to find a calendar. The beast followed him everywhere now, tail wagging happily, panting from their earlier walk, he had warmed up to toji’s presence quickly and was now quite fond of the man.

It didn’t take long into his dog-sitting tenure for Toji to feel as though it was too good to be true. The sinking feeling he felt in his gut when one day he was left space at the bottom of the owners note…

“Mr. Fushiguro, thank you for hanging out with my boy today! I apologize, I don’t have much around the house, you’re here so often, please let me know some things you like so I can have something picked up for you when you stay here.”

There was a pen resting on his money and a gap wide enough for a grocery list. Part of him wanted to request some beer, why not? They’re asking. But there was also a sense of dread that filled him.

He had left the space blank then. He was more comfortable than he can remember being, he wasn’t going to make requests. Who knows what they would ask of him?

Toji is fiddling with his money when he finally spots a desk with papers strewn, notebooks open, and a calendar with impressively organized time slots written in. He found today…

February 14… oh, yeah. Valentine’s Day. He can’t remember the last time he did anything for the holiday, now, pointless to him. He crumpled the note left for him. Yeah, he snorted at the thought I’ll get myself a treat.

Rolling his eyes he pats the dog on the head and tugs on one ear playfully. He feels unnerved but he can’t quite place it. He hates the headache he gets when he’s treated so kindly. Watching the clock reach 8 PM he makes his way to leave, grabbing a handful of grapes from the fridge. Damn, someone so wealthy, all alone on Valentine’s Day. Makes him feel lucky.

The old Toji would have killed for this job. Literally. And he wouldn’t have felt bad either. It’s almost laughable, having money in his pocket and fruit in his hand, leaving a house like this one. He won’t let himself get comfortable. Won’t let his guard down. But the time he has before times get tough again, he’ll allow himself to relax on some lonely, rich, persons sofa. Mooching off their supply of food and hot water. Waiting for the day he’s requested to give a little more of himself.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

pt. 2

@textmel8r ‘s toji smau series “sugar baby” lowkey inspired this so thank you ❤️

[satanghulu]

pact marks pt 3

✦ CAST: satan, asmo, beel, belphie ✦ SUMMARY: brothers’ reaction to you hiding your pact marks ✦ WARNING: urm the twins’ part got slightly angsty, mentions of lesson 16! ✦ WC: 2.7K

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

══════════════════

Satan

Satan hates that the mark is gone but tries to play it cool to get back into your good books.

.

The sound of the door slamming made Satan snap his head up, watching as you stomped your way in somehow avoiding all the books strewn on the floor, even in your anger-induced haze. 

“Well, seems like someone’s having a great day,” He sounded bemused, slotting a bookmark into the page of his current read. He could feel the flicker of wrath calling out to him as the rim of your eyes flashed green.

You planted your hands on your hip and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The furrow between your brows told him that you were angry but it didn’t take a genius to figure that part out. But at this juncture, he couldn’t tell if it was directed towards him or yourself.

“Tell you what, my dear?” A bewildered Satan sat up straight, inching his thighs open as you forcefully made a space for yourself. The intensity of your gaze only made him more confused as you huffed again in exasperation.

“That pact marks could be hidden!” You whisper-screamed as you peered at his expression, frowning when you didn’t see the hint of realisation you wanted. Instead, you let out a loud groan, bringing a hand up to pinch the tip of his ear as your form of punishment. 

“Ow--Hands off!” Satan smacks your hand, rubbing at his ears woefully. He watches as you lean past him to pick up his novel with a contemplative look as if you wanted to throw the book at the wall.

He pauses, waiting for your next move. With a disgruntled air, you slid the book further away on his bed as you took its place beside him. Satan continues to examine your expression thoughtfully, the gears turning in his head as he slowly shifts his head up. A strand of blond hair falls from where it was tucked behind his ears, and you resist the urge to move it out of the way.

‘Wait. Come again?’ His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he finally processed your words.

“Solomon taught you.” He said, his words sounding more like a statement rather than a question, to which you replied snappily with who else?. He turned to appraise your appearance to which you held his stare, unphased.

Damnit, he was hoping that you wouldn’t have found out about it just yet. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” You narrowed your eyes, bottom lip jutting out in frustration as you wagged a finger at him accusingly. 

He couldn’t bear to see your angry expression towards him any longer. Satan grabs your finger gently, bringing it to his lips as he lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Can’t a demon want to see his mark on you?” For added dramatics, he flutters his lashes while giving your finger another kiss. Immediately, your face flushed red as you tried to jerk your hand out of his grip.

Satan holds onto you tighter. His touch travels up your arm to grab you by the shoulder, pulling you into his space. “Dislike it?” He murmurs into your ear, noting that it has turned red. You timidly shake your head, resolutely not uttering a word. 

Although he finds it a shame that he couldn’t see your expression.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it…” You said with a small voice, face buried in Satan’s shoulder. You were unwilling to show him your face, slightly annoyed that he had won over your anger so easily.

“Well,” Satan pulls you back to give you a sullen stare. “It’s not like I made any pacts before and magic tends to affect everyone differently.”

(It was the half-truth, kinda. But pact marks are always able to be hidden, no matter the person. But he wasn’t going to tell you that.) 

You gave him a long look, searching his face for any tells of a lie.

“Fine. I’ll take it as you didn’t know this time.” You relaxed your posture, slinking into his hug. “But, next time--“ 

“There will be no next time, love.” 

(There absolutely will be.)

══════════════════

Asmo

Asmo would be the most understanding, second to Beel. This would largely be because he already has a pact with Solomon. Also, he understands that sometimes the marks could ruin the aesthetic of a particular outfit but still? He just thinks you look so pretty with it.

.

The feeling of cold fingers on your back trailing up your back gives you a fright, as you turn to smack the perpetrator. Thankfully, your reflexes were fast enough to stop the stack of paper from flying at his face.

“Babe!” Asmo whines, giving you a hurt stare. “What would you do if you hurt this perfect face?” He brings an elegant finger up to the side of his face, showing off his porcelain skin as the light hits at the right angle.

You flicked his nose.

“Do you need me now?” You questioned, gesturing at your pile of paperwork in front of you. Mammon had dumped all of the bills on you before fleeing in the direction of RAD, as Levi chases behind him right after.

You assume that he wouldn’t be back in the house for the night at least, to evade Levi’s scrutiny. Thus, you had started sorting the bills to at least, lessen his workload so that Lucifer wouldn’t whoop both of your asses. (Despite Mammon being your caretaker.)

A manicured hand taps on your thigh, demanding your attention.

“Pay attention to me.” The Avatar of Lust is stunning as always, a pout plastered on his face as he grouses cutely. You chuckle and shove the paperwork aside, Mammon be damned. He could do his own paperwork and you had a much cuter distraction right in front of you.

“Yes, honey?” You match his tone, locking your fingers with his as he continues to tap on your thigh incessantly like a peacock flaunting its feathers. “I wanna see my pact mark.” A glint in his eye shines, a bright smile playing on his lips.

You sigh.

“So that’s why you were touching my back.” He nods at your statement, a perfect eyebrow arched as if to ask you what’s wrong with it. 

Resigning yourself to your fate, you turn and lift your shirt slightly to give Asmo a better view. You try not to flinch as his cold fingers sweep past the area where the mark was supposed to be.

A hum comes from behind you. Asmo tugs your shirt down, giving you a tap on your back to indicate he is done with his little inspection. 

“Satisfied?” You asked as you arranged your shirt properly. 

“Maybe if you go au naturel, I’ll be able to have a better look.” This time, Asmo’s lips curled into a grin as his head tilted to the right suggestively. You let out a chuckle, patting his shoulder. “Next time, buddy.”

A thought crosses your mind as you stop in your motion.

“You’re not…unhappy?” Asmo cocks his head to give you a contemplative look, not saying anything. A flutter of motion catches your eye as he suddenly leans in to press a kiss on your cheek, leaving a trail of delicate sweetness in his wake.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ as he stood up, patting your head. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” A graceful hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you up, beckoning you to follow him.

“Come on, it’s self-care day today!” He cheered, lifting your arm up above your head and bumping your hip hard with his.

You grinned. Typical Asmo.

══════════════════

Beel

Beel would definitely be the most understanding. He gets your reasoning if you want to cover it up. Though, he is still a demon. He will have this nagging feeling that something is wrong but he’s not sure why.

.

“Beel?” You padded softly into the kitchen, yawning as you rubbed your eyes. The kitchen’s lights were turned low but the refrigerator’s door was wide open, the dim light still hurting your cornea.

Only the sound of crunching answers you as the demon was too transfixed with the leftovers from dinner. You had made human-world food today, feeling homesick and craving for a pick-me-up. As always, Beel had made his stance known about the food. But, he must have really liked it. (At least much more than you had presumed.) The fridge was completely devoid of your cooking, the usual snacks he ate for supper untouched.

You had also made much more than the usual portions because you intended to bring it to RAD to let everyone try it. Well, you should have known. Though, you really had made extras of extras… 

“Oh.” Beel waved his hand at you, finally noticing your presence. He hurriedly swallowed whatever was in his mouth and beamed at you happily. “You’re still up?” 

You nodded, finally remembering what you had initially come here to do. “Water.” Your voice was scratchy as Beel sent you a thumbs-up before continuing to consume his supper. 

You squeezed past him to grab your glass and the water pitcher. After quenching your thirst, your eyelids no longer felt heavy and instead, you now felt wide awake. Still holding your glass of water, you headed to where Beel was sitting and hopped on top of the counter beside him.

“Want some?” He offered his spoon to you, motioning for you to take a bite. You shake your head, telling him that you have already finished your night routine. Both of you sit in silence, the sound of Beel’s chewing fading into white noise.

The steady cacophony of Beel’s chewing slows your thoughts and just as you were about to doze off--

“Hey.”

You startle awake, sleepy eyes searching for the source of the voice. “Oh, were you about to sleep?” Beel looks apologetic, large hand flying up to move your head to lean on his shoulder. In a daze, you grabbed his hand instead as you tried to blink the sleep away.

“It’s fine. Is there something you need?” You yawned, letting go of Beel’s hand in favour of covering your mouth. He shakes his head solemnly. Yet his face was pinched, as if something was bothering him.

You wondered if he had gotten into an argument with Belphie. However, you recall they were just fine during dinner, and knowing Beel, he would be more upset if so. He also couldn’t have possibly gotten into any tiffs with the brothers seeing as you didn’t hear a single peep from them. 

“Are you worried about something?” You asked softly, hand placed over his to give him some reassurance.

He shakes his head.

You had an inkling the matter was plaguing him was involving you. But the only change so far was the pact marks. Oh, the pact marks.

“Is it the pact marks?”

Beel stiffens up as if he was caught doing something wrong. You continue to wait patiently, rubbing your thumb in a circle over his. 

“Kind of.” He admits, avoiding your gaze. “It’s just that… You cooking human-world food and then hiding the pact marks. It feels like you’re…” He looks away, unable to continue.

“I’m leaving?” You finished his sentence, lifting three fingers to grasp his chin carefully. 

He nods, sighing. “I know you won’t and it’s irrational.” He turns to look at you with a strong gaze, lower lip trembling slightly. “Can we stay here for a while?”

You lean into his touch, Beel instinctively wrapping his arms around you.

“Of course.”

══════════════════

Belphie

Opposite of his twin. He hates that the mark is gone yet he wouldn’t be able to say anything much seeing as the mark manifested around your neck, reminiscent of the time he gave you a tight hug.

.

Belphegor’s been avoiding you lately.

It’s impossible not to notice the sudden distance he puts between both of you. This doesn’t mean to say he goes out of his way to make you feel unwelcome; rather he goes out of his way to be polite to you.

At breakfast, he sits two seats away from you. He passes you the cutleries when you ask, hands never touching you. He scampers off to class with Satan as soon as he is done. It’s Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth; when has he ever been known to be punctual?

Yet for all his aloofness, he comes into your dreams every night. He watches you – he sits at the edge of your vision, chin on his palm as his tail swishes calmly behind him. But you wake up in your own bed with your heart thrumming with confusion and affection, all the same. Sometimes, it feels as if he observes you in reality too.

It was frustrating. 

You don’t want to force the youngest out of his comfort zone to talk about his feelings but it was starting to get ridiculous. He’s thousands of years older than you and he can’t even bear to talk about his own feelings?

You huffed.

You’ve made up your mind to talk to him but he’s as slippery as an eel when determined. When Belphegor wants to hide, no one should be able to find him. Well, except for one person.

“Where is he?” You dug out a burger from your backpack – you had stopped by Hell’s Kitchen after an unsuccessful search in RAD. Beel pauses around his mouthful of food, scrutinising the outstretched offering in your hand.

“Rooftop.” He glances hesitantly at your expression. “Please take care of him.” You nod, shoving the burger into the pile of food beside him. You pretend not to take notice of the underlying meaning in his words.

-

You climb the stairs to the twins’ room, footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the house. The rightmost window was wide open, the cold breeze making you shiver in your pajamas. You stick your head out of the window, noticing there is no path up. Belphegor must have flown up in his demon form. Was he that desperate to avoid you?

Quietly, you muttered a levitation spell; sending vibrations through the air as you swayed unsteadily.

Imagination. Imagination. Imagination.

Slowly, the spell stabilised and a sense of pride twinged in your heart. You gently landed on the roof, spotting the tell-tale sight of Belphegor’s cowprint from the back. The wind nipped at your nose as you walked over, a chill running through you.

Both of you sit in silence.

“The Pool of The Abyss is out tonight.” He lifts a finger to point at the sky, gaze trained upwards. Humoring him, you turn to look at the night sky – the stars glittering in the endless abyss, a stunning sight that takes your breath away each time.

“Are you going to continue pretending?”

His breath hitches as he stays quiet. The silence stretches uncomfortably long, your hands falling to your side as you bite your tongue to let him think. His tail lashes back and forth, catching your attention.

“I’m sorry.” He bites out.

You shift closer, finally seeing your chance of reconciliation. “What are you apologising for?” Your nightwear flutters in the wind and Belphegor gestures for you to lean into him. 

“Everything.” He sighs wearily. “The-” You rub soothing circles on his left thigh, as his tail curls around your middle to provide warmth. “The incident and just. Everything.”

“It’s--“

“Don’t say it’s okay.” He cuts you off, frowning as the tail tightens just a little. “It’s not. You know that.”

You nod.

“I got reminded of it when I saw the mark was gone.” He pauses again, moving to place his head on your shoulder, seemingly to avoid your stare. “I just wonder how much of a better life you would have if you never came to the Devildom.”

You bring your hand up to touch your neck – your skin doesn’t feel any different to the touch with or without the pact marks. Closing your eyes, the magic buzzes in the air as you undo the spell hiding your pact marks. Belphegor craned his neck to watch the movement, face twisted as though the mark sullied your skin.

Belphegor takes a deep breath as he reaches out to touch you.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ the path to forgiveness isnt always linear! Satan - on your temple Asmo - tramp stamp Beel - below your navel belphie - front of neck…………where he strangled u lol On a side note, the lnd men has been populating my fyp too much. I believe asmo smells like peaches (thank u bee for the idea), it suits his colour scheme so much. (ALSO, if you know how prada candy smells like, yeah i associate that with him) I also wholly contemplated making reader summon belphie when he was hiding from them just for shits and giggles. also this isn’t my fav but it’s been marinating in my drafts for weeks so imma js post it LOLZ

[augustinewrites]

as soon as satoru comes home, you can tell that something’s troubling him.

he greets the three of you quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and telling you to start dinner without him.

when he turns away, you quickly catch his hand. “you haven’t eaten since lunch. just have a little—”

“i’m not hungry,” he excuses quickly, offering you a weak smile. “i’m just going to lie down for a bit.”

he gently pulls his hand from your grasp, heading toward the bedroom without another word.

“something’s wrong with him,” tsumiki murmurs, picking up her chopsticks as you and megumi watch him go.

“he’s just tired,” you assure her. “he’ll be okay.”

you hope they don’t notice the worry behind your easy expression. you know that satoru is strong and that he’s powerful beyond measure, but strength means nothing when you give someone a piece of your heart. the worry just never goes away.

he doesn’t get out of bed for the rest of the evening, and you don’t make him. after dinner’s been cleaned up and the kids are winding down for bed, you tiptoe into the bedroom to check on him.

the lights are off and the curtain is drawn, with satoru’s uniform dropped carelessly onto the floor. you quietly shut the door behind you, and once your eyes adjust to the dark, you see him laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“hey,” you whisper, laying next to him. you scoot closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and gently slotting yourself against him. “what’s going on?”

his answer comes quietly, so soft you almost miss it. “some stuff came up when i was talking to yaga today. about…suguru.”

you want him to say more, to elaborate, but the far away look in his eyes tells you that now’s not the time. it also tells you that there’s nothing you can say, because words don’t mean much when you miss someone.

so the two of you lay in silence. a comfortable one, where the need to talk just to fill space isn’t necessary when you’re close to someone.

“i was supposed to take tsumiki out to buy a gift for her friend,” he sighs lolling his head to the side to look at you. “but i…i just need a day.”

“it’s okay,” you nod, tracing mindless patterns across his chest. “i’ll take her.”

“thank you,” he murmurs, taking your hand and placing a kiss on each of your knuckles.

“don’t thank me yet,” you say, tapping the tip of his nose. “because that means you’re staying home with a moody preteen.”

_____

“mom says i’m not supposed to bother you.”

satoru peels one eye open to see megumi leaning over him, a blank look on the kid’s face.

“so what’s wrong with you?”

“nothing,” he grunts, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes to resume his wallowing. “go do your homework or something.”

megumi, naturally, doesn’t listen. instead, he grabs satoru’s ankles, shoving them off the couch so he can sit.

“hey!” he protests, sitting up. “what gives?”

“tsumiki says it’s good to talk about things,” he says matter-of-factly.

satoru shakes his head, blowing out a harsh breath. “not now, alright? i don’t want to talk about it.”

megumi looks over at him with an inquisitive expression, tapping his fingertips against the arm of the couch before tentatively saying,

“mom said you lost someone.”

sometimes he forgets that you and megumi talk.

“kind of,” he answers vaguely.

“did your friend die?”

sometimes he thinks suguru might as well have. “no, he didn’t. he left and…i guess he just doesn’t want to be found.”

megumi leans back into the couch with a sigh. “my dad is like that. he left a long time ago, and i guess he doesn’t want to be found either.”

there’s a lump in satoru’s throat, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders. he can’t have this conversation. not now, not without tsumiki, and especially not without you.

he clears his throat, leaning forward to ruffle the kid’s hair. “well, i’m here.”

megumi swats at his hand, wrinkling his nose as he tries to fix the mess on his head. “yeah, i know.”

then, in a move that seems to take both of them by surprise, megumi closes the distance between them and wraps him in a hug.

satoru definitely does not tear up.

[satorusugurugurl]

I love your writing!!!

Can i req Jjk men accidentally hurting reader during sex? If that’s ok w u, if not, it’s all good <33

JJK Men: Accidentally Hurting You In the Middle of Smexy Time

Summary: Things get a little too passionate in the middle of sexy time. And well, let's say tears are shed and not in a good way.

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,337

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, biting, injury, crack, fluff, it's a fluffy crack post

A/N: This was so much fun to write! Love my some little crack posts like this!! I hope you enjoy! 😆

Gojo Satoru:

You smirk as Satoru throws his head back against the pillows. His mouth is hanging wide open as your rock back and forth on his cock. Slowly teasing him, clamping down to the point that he’s writhing under you. His hands are holding your hips, squeezing you, urging you to go faster, to do something!

“Y-Y/N, I need more, fuck!” He bites down on his bottom lip, looking at your conjoined bodies. “You’re killing me, babe, please, fuck.”

“More?” You cooed your thumb, brushing over his bottom lip. “Does my poor Toru want me to fuck his brains out~?”

“Y-Yes!!” He cried out, growling as you slowly inched off his cock before slamming back down. “Hah! Ah fuck~!!”

You bounced up and down, and the squelching sounds of your pussy were nearly silent as Satoru cried out. How cute was he? Crying out like a whore while you used his cock. So pretty, the sight had you throbbing around him as you arched your back, playing with your breasts.

Satoru was whimpering as he watched your thumbs graze over your erect nipples. That wasn't fair! He wanted to suck on them, lap his tongue over the sensitive buds. He moved, thrusting up into you as he tried to sit up. The deep thrust and sudden jerky movement had you wobbling. You fell forward. Ready to brace yourself on his chest only to meet his head.

Your foreheads collided together in a sickening crack. “Ow!” Your hand flew up to your head as Satoru rubbed at his forehead, grimacing. “Ooooh fuck that hurt!” You pulled off of him, hurrying to the bathroom. “Toru!” You snarled, touching the already swelling goose egg forming on your head.

“S’ your fault.” You glared into the mirror as he stood in the doorway. His cock was still erect, your arousal glistening on the shaft. “You fell forward!”

“Because you thrust into me!”

“I only moved because I wanted to suck on your nipples.”

“And I got a goose egg instead!” Your pout was adorable as you poked at the bump on your head again. “Dammit! What are you going to do to make it up to me?” Satoru stiffened, eyes quickly meeting yours in the mirror.

“I'm sorry?”

“I said, what are you going to do to make this up to me? You promised you'd never hurt me. And look who broke their word Sa-to-ru-” Each syllable of his name had his cock twitching eagerly. He moved, lifting you off the ground and carrying you back into the bedroom. “Oh my god!” You squealed as he threw you on the bed, slotting between your legs.

“I’ll make the pain go away,” Satoru whispered, dragging his tongue down your body. “You'll feel better in no time.” He winked before dipping his head between your thighs, his matching goose egg on full display.

Geto Suguru:

“Mmm~ nngh fuck Y/N, you taste so fucking good.” Suguru breathes out against your pussy before his tongue flicks at your clit again. “So sweet and tangy, fuck I want more of you.”

You’re a mess underneath him; your back is arching off the living room floor, your shorts thrown somewhere behind the couch as the warm spring breeze blows through the room. It carries the scent of fresh blooming flowers and the promise of sunny days. Which meant allergy season was to follow with it.

You gasped, hands gripping Suguru’s bun as he pulled you closer to his mouth. “S-Suguru~!” His lips sealed firmly around your clit as his dark eyes locked on yours. Why did he look so pretty when he was eating you out? That had to be a crime somewhere in the world. But as his teeth ever so gently grazed over your clit, all other thoughts went flying out the window. “F-fuuuck! Hah! Ah fuck!”

Suguru moaned, alternating his technique from nibbling your clit, to writing his name against you, using the tip of his tongue. His skills were being used at full force, eager to get you to cum all over his tongue before he fucked you right here in the living room. He knew it wouldn't take much for you to cum.

You tightened your grip on his hair, a familiar feeling settling over you. But it wasn’t your orgasm, no, this feeling was in your sinus’. It was a burning sensation that had your nose scrunching as your toes curled. Feeling a sneeze approaching, you covered your nose with your elbow as you sneezed hard, jerking against Suguru’s face. The sudden jerky movement from your sneeze startled your boyfriend so much that he slammed his teeth shut.

Just as he was nibbling on your clit.

You screamed in pain, your thighs clamping around your boyfriend's head as you yanked him away. Those dark eyes that had just been filled with lust were now filled with fear. You curled in on yourself, hands dipping between your legs, cupping your pussy. This new throbbing sensation was not at all enjoyable. Suguru sat back, staring at you in shock as tears stained your cheeks.

“Oh fuck, I bit your clit.” He stated the obvious.

”Yeah! No shit!” You barked back, tears still flowing down your cheeks as you grimaced.

“Oh fuck, what do I need to do? How can I help? I’m so sorry.”

”I don’t know, Suguru!” You sat up, still cupping your wet sex. “No one has ever bit my clit before!!”

The silence is almost palpable between you before Suguru turns to your couch. “Hey, Google, what do I do if I bite my girl—”

“Don’t ask out Google Home, you freak!”

In the end, Google provided you with the answer: Hot water, antibacterial soap, and ibuprofen.

Nanami Kento:

Hot water hit your back as Nanami fucked you from behind. Fuck it was so steamy, and you were talking about the water. Nanami was like an animal slamming into you over and over again. His grunts and growls bounced off the bathroom walls, making your cunt throb harder. God, he was so hot; everything about this was so hot.

All this happened because you mentioned you’d never had shower sex before. Best confession you’ve ever made!

Nanami grabbed a handful of your hair by yanking it. “Head up, love, I don't want you getting dizzy.” He was utterly perfect and patiently led you through this experience. Nanami was making it an overwhelmingly pleasurable experience! “Now, put your foot up here.” He grabbed your leg, positioning it on the edge of the tub. “And enjoy the ride.”

That was the only warning you were given before Nanami pulled all the way out before slamming back inside of you. You arched, silently screaming as he set a pace that had your skin slapping against each other in a beautiful harmony. God fuck, holy fuck he was so deep in this position. You could feel his cock hitting your g-spot and cervix perfectly with each thrust.

“N-Nana! Nanami!” you cried out as he slammed into you harder with a grunt, water going everywhere, from the walls and the side of the tub for the mere force of his thrusts. “K-Kiss, kiss me.”

“As you wish.” Kento’s lips found yours in a heated, passionate kiss. You felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Feeling you could squeeze around his thick cock, Nanami slid his hand over your stomach, pushing down on your back and making you arch.

This was a position you had done countless times in the past. On hotel balconies, against walls, and in his office. The only difference this time was that water was involved. When he suddenly pushed you forward, your foot on the tub's edge slipped. You fell forward, grabbing the shower curtain for support.

“Y/N!” Nanami tried reaching you, but it happened so fast. You slipped, falling out of the side of the shower. Your shoulder collided with the bathroom countertop. Nanami knew it was bad the second he heard a loud pop. The pain hit you like a train as you landed on your side, gasping out a strangled scream.

Nanami turned the water off and jumped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and draping it over you before dropping to his knees. “Oh fuck, that hurts.” You winced, your fingers and neck numb. “That hurts bad!”

“Here, let's get you up.” As Nanami helped you stand, both of you winced at the same time as you assessed the damage. That popping sensation was the sound of your shoulder dislocating; your arm dangled uselessly at your side. “Y/N, I'm so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

“No, no, it's okay! It was an accident, Ken.” You sighed, turning to look up at him. “We should go see Shoko.” Nanami huffed out a sigh, nodding his head before leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“I’ll call us a car.”

You followed after him, groaning. “Do you think Gojo will be there?” Nanami froze midstep, turning to face you as he got dressed. “He wouldn't let us live this down. He might even submit our story to one of those trashy television shows like ‘Sex Sent Me to The E.R.’ or something like that.”

“On second thought, we're going to the hospital.”

Choso Kamo:

“Choso!” Yuuji yelled from the living room of the apartment. Voice muffled from behind the closed door of the bedroom. Choso loved his brothers, but right now, he was more in love with being balls deep inside of you.

Your boyfriend's hand was clamped over your mouth as he rocked into you as hard as he could. If you both were quiet enough, maybe he'd leave. Yuuji called out for his older brother again as you whined against his palm. His cock throbbed, the bed rocking faster as Yuuji muttered something that sounded like a goodbye before the apartment door opened and shut.

The second he realizes you two are good, he pulls his hand away. “Awe, Cho~ are you shy?” Choso glances down at your smug smirk before he flushes.

“Y-You're his teacher. I-Isn't it strange?”

You purse your lips in thought before smirking. “What’s strange is the fact that you aren't fucking me right now, Choso~” With wide eyes and red cheeks, your boyfriend did as precisely as you asked.

His hips bucked forward, his large hands moving from the sides of your head to your thighs, where he spread your legs further apart. You screamed out, throwing your head back in pleasure as his trailed kisses over your collarbone. He was so deep, you didn’t want to let him go; your cunt hugged him tight, making it difficult for him to pull out.

The constricting grip your pussy had on him made Choso’s eyebrows scrunch together as his balls slapped against your ass. You were so wet and tight. If you kept squeezing him like this, he wasn’t going to last very long at all. But from how you squirmed, surely you weren’t doing any better than him.

“Choso~! Choso~! Oh fuck~! Yes, baby, baby, please~!!”

“Y/N, fuck! Haa— I’m going to cum~ I’m so close~!” He gritted out, the bed squeaking under you from the force of his thrusts.

“Choso!!” He flinched, hearing the door slam open again in the living room. “Bro, I know you’re here! I can see it on the Find My Friends app!”

“Just like that! Just like th-mmmmph!!” Choso's hands flew up, hitting you in the mouth and nose. Harder than he meant to. Your eyes stung as your nose throbbed painfully against the palm of his hand. “Mmnn.” You cried out, tears welling in your eyes.

Choso’s head was turned to the bedroom door. His chest was rising and falling as he listened to Yuuji, and oh god, was that Megumi with him? Why were they heading this way? You both had to do something! Oh, right, you would know what to do! Choso’s head whipped back to you as he felt something warm spreading over his palms.

Tears were sliding onto his fingers, your tears. Choso quickly jerked them away, and he was met with a gory sight. Blood was smeared under your nose and over your lips. The stream of tears made pink streams run down your chin as you sat up, reaching for a tissue.

“Y/N?! Oh sweetheart, fuck I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He glanced at the palms of his hands that were stained crimson. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!”

“No! It’s okay!” Your voice was muffled as you squeezed gently on your nose to stop the blood flow. “You were distracted. Plus, it’s not like I haven’t been hit in the nose before.” You gave him a thumbs-up with your free hand. “Just the first time it’s happened when I was having sex!”

Just before Choso could take over holding the tissue for you, his door flew open. “Choso!?” Yuuji was about to walk in, but he froze, taking in the scene before him. His older brother, under the sheets naked, was in bed with his teacher, who squeaked, hiding her also very naked body against his brother.

And there was blood, lots of blood.

In a panic, Choso tried to get up to explain what was happening. But Yuuji slammed the door before silence rang out. Choso’s head dropped while you kept holding the tissue to your nose.

“I-I’m going to the movies with Megumi and Kugisaki. I’ll be home later, Choso.”

“A-Alright, be careful.”

“See you on Monday, Y/L/N-Sensei!”

Choso sat there mortified as he processed what had just happened. Not only did he unintentionally hurt his girlfriend, but his younger brother had walked in on him. The stuffy giggle that slowly had him turning his head to look at you. Your smile was wide, and your cheeks were flushed. That shy grin made his shoulders feel lighter. He knew the two of you would get through this awkward situation together.

[bunniehrtz]

Hear me out….teasing Abby before going out with your friends and her being a needy dom showing just how much she misses you

let me know if u want a part 2 !!!!! <333

cw: making out, dry humping lol, abby sends sexy pictures, reader is kinda domming abby at some points

you run your hands down your outfit, looking yourself up and down one more time in the mirror before abby steps behind you, holding your hips. “don’t go,” she whines, hiding her face in your neck as she places slow, open mouthed kisses. you smile at her in the mirror, shaking your head. “i have to go. come with me?” you try to negotiate with her, she has none of it. she whines deeper, picking you up from your waist and throwing you on your shared bed. “abby!” you exclaim, looking up into her eyes before pulling her down into a messy kiss. she gasps, falling into submission as you hold onto her waist, pulling her hips into yours, grinding softly into her. you bite back a whimper at the feeling of the hard silicone packed in her boxers, trying to take no notice. abby groans into the kiss, pushing her hips down forcefully into yours, your legs spreading unconsciously. abby slots herself between your legs, pornographic moans leaving her mouth and entering yours. she pulls away slightly. “come on, baby. gotta let me fuck you before you go. please, it won’t take long-“ she’s interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.

abby gasps, pulling away to looked down at you, her jaw hung open. “what? nooo..” she says, muffled by the sound of her biting your neck harshly.

“okay- fuck, abby. i’ll be out in a second. yeah, yeah. bye,” you hang up the phone, attempting to get up and out of abby’s restraints. “gotta let me up, abs,” you giggle, watching her reluctantly get up off of you, moving to help you fix your dress and get off the bed. “i’ll text you, okay? wait up for me,” you tease, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to her lips. as you pull away, she pulls you back in, kissing you deeper. “abs- abigail, stop,” she pulls away immediately. you kiss her pout and her cheek before saying “i love you! i’ll see you tonight!”

an hour passes and your phone buzzes. you look at the phone, continuing your conversation. it’s like everyone has left the room, it’s silent as you look at the picture of abby’s pink, 9 inch strap peeking out of the tip of her basketball shorts. buzz. “miss you :(“. you feel your face heat up, your bottom lip stinging as your teeth sink into it. “god, abby. i’ll be back soon.” you reply. buzz. that was quick, you think. it’s a video. you turn in your seat to hide your phone, and open the video. her shorts are off, her cock in her hand. she pumps it slowly. her legs are spread slightly, her abs on show. you wish you could hear her, her breathy moans you know so well are music to your ears. your legs cross themselves, soothing the now ache in your hot cunt. your eyes roll to the back of your head and you text abby back quickly. “i’ll be home in 10.”

[oneforthemunny]

home is wherever i'm with you |hockey player!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: life on the road during hockey season is far less glamorous than you thought it would be. homesick and lonely, eddie tries to get you feeling better.

also special thank you to @angietherose for the name of the au hockey team :) eddie is officially on the indy reapers! thank you to all who voted as well!

contains: fluff, but there is slight angst at the beginning. mentions of loneliness, a little depression. slight-ish tension or strain on the relationship, but you know i make it happy at the end lol. language.

Pasadena, California - 1993 

Day seventeen on your six week excursion with Eddie. Well, excursion was a generous thing to call what this was. You were feeling more like a groupie for the Indianapolis Reapers, a puck bunny as Eddie’s teammates snickered, brows raised in suggest when they’d pass jersey clad girls lingering around their buses. Stop after stop- press, practice, training, games, all over the nation. 

A suitcase full of clothes you’d grown sick of already, longing to go home and trade them for something different, washing them in the sharp, sterile detergent of the hotels. You longed for your own sheets, perfumed with your own detergent. 

Eddie was gone for most of the day. You tried to sightsee on your own, explore the cities but it was lonely, lacking someone to giggle with over lattes, to hold your hand in the street, just to talk to. The other WAGS that came along, stuck out the long haul across the states, clung to each other, comfortable in their own little clique. You were too new, an outsider to their group. 

“Hey, babe,” Eddie pressed the key into the lock, twisting the heavy latch open. “Babe, do you have that stuff? Did you bring it?” He hummed, dropping his bag at the door, kicking off his sneakers. 

His nose curled at the pungent smell, ripe from the warming weather of California. “Jesus Christ, I gotta wash this stuff. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in the laundry thing.” Eddie hummed, sliding the slotted closet door open. “Can’t believe how warm it is here already. Feels so nice outside. You’ve been outside today, sweetheart?” He rambled, sweetly, tossing the powdered detergent into the washer, shoving the workout clothes from his bag into the tiny machine. 

The steady hum of the air conditioner filled the room, his only response. Eddie’s brows lifted, jamming the button of the washer, sliding the door back into place. He didn’t remember hearing you say you were leaving today, but he had taken a pretty hard hit to the glass during practice, ears still ringing dully. 

“Baby?” Eddie called, opening the bathroom door, empty of you other than the scattered products on the vanity. Heavy steps on the patterned carpet, Eddie walked into the bedroom suite, halting at the edge of the crumpled sheets. 

You laid on your side, still in what he’d left you in that morning, eyes puffy and red rimmed looking motionlessly out the window. “Hey, I thought you- I was, uh, I was just talking but-” Eddie’s heart beat in his throat, uneasy at the sight of you, crumpled in the sheets. “Are you ok?” 

You turned, cheek still pressed to your arms under the pillow, just enough to see him- all wild curls, matted and frizzy with helmet hair. “Yeah,” You croaked, throat scratchy and sore with sobs that had stilled hours ago, still you were plagued with the aftershocks of weeks of suppressed emotion. 

“I- I’m not trying to sound like a dick or anything here, but you’re clearly not.” Eddie said softly, slowly approaching the bed. The bed dipped under his weight, a warm hand rubbing over your ankle under the cool sheets. 

“Baby,” Your face crumpled at the coo, so sweet, gentle, it made your nose burn. “What’s goin’ on?” Eddie muttered, thumb circling your ankle bone gently. 

Your nose burned with a slow, shaky exhale that he felt, rattled all the way down your body under his touch. Eddie’s heart dropped. “Hey, look at me.” Eddie’s voice was softened but sharp, teetering on frantic. You turned, looking at his wide eyes, running over your frame in worry. “What’s goin’ on? What’s the matter?” 

Your lip wobbled, head screaming words you couldn’t bring yourself to say- you didn’t know how to say. “I just-” You took a breath, chest stuttering. “I don’t… feel good.” 

Eddie’s brows creased, crawling up the bed beside you. “Don’t feel good, like, sick?” He muttered, the back of his hand pressing to your palm. “You don’t feel hot t’me. What hurts? Is it your head still? I told you, baby, that hippie dippie shit only works so much. You have to take medicine-” 

“-No,” You shook your head, eyes squeezing tightly to keep your tears at bay. “It’s-it’s not that.” 

Eddie blinked carefully. “What? Is it, like, the time of the month? D’ya need me to go get some stuff for you? You know I don’t mind to. Not a problem for me, baby, just tell me what you need.” Eddie’s head tilted to the side, so sweet and doting, it made your chest heat with swarming guilt and adoration. 

“I’m not on my period. It’s nothing, Ed.” You shook your head, curling back into your pillow. 

Eddie stilled above you. “Are- Are you pregnant?” He whispered. 

“No.” You groaned quickly, head shaking into the warmth of the pillows. 

Eddie sighed lightly, a huff of relief that fell short, when your body turned from him, back towards the window with a long inhale. “Hey, can you- can you look at me? Please? Look at me, baby.” Eddie’s pitch raised, teetering towards scared, his hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently so you rolled on your back. 

He hovered over you, curls falling down nearly brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what’s going on. Please? Tell me what’s wrong.” Eddie whispered, nearly a beg. “You don’t feel good? You don’t feel good here?” His throat swelled, tight with fear. “With me?” 

Your silence had Eddie’s stomach twisting, dropping with fear, bile rising in the back of his throat- he was going to be sick, he was sure he would be. 

“No,” You muttered, head shaking lightly under the pillow. “Not with you, just,” You reached up, nervously twirling his curl around your finger. “Just with this.” 

Eddie swallowed, willing himself still, calm, though his heart felt like it might give out. “This? Wh-What do you mean this?” Eddie’s voice shook. 

You blinked up at him, eyes rounding in a sad softness he hadn’t seen before. “I just… I miss being home.” You whispered, eyes glossing with a fresh wave of tears that pricked your waterline. “I miss seeing my friends, and being in my own bed, a-and even work. I just,” Your breath hitched, lip trembling. “I’m just really lonely.” 

Eddie was sure his heart did give out, break right in his chest, sunk right to the pit of his stomach. “Do you- You wanna go home?” Eddie’s hand ran down your cheek gently. “That’s what you want? That would make you feel better?” 

Your face crumbled, caved into itself at his tone. “I-I don’t know.” You admitted, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears in. “I don’t want to leave you, b-but I don’t-” You pressed your palms to your eyes, taking a slow inhale through your nose. “I just don’t want to be alone so much. A-And I know that’s not your fault. I know you’re working.” 

When your eyes did meet his, Eddie wished they’d stayed closed, heartbreakingly sad, vacant of that light that usually shone through, brightening anything cast in your gaze. “I just… I’m feeling homesick, ‘m sorry.” You muttered. “I just really miss home, and I’m having a bad day.” 

“You don’t- Don’t apologize.” Eddie shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were feelin’ like this.” Eddie swallowed, pulling you up gently. Your body was slack, limp with unmotivated movement, but still, you settled into his arms. The tension in your body melted, nose buried in the material of his shirt, lathered in cologne and the hot California air. 

“I have a half day tomorrow.” Eddie muttered, his heart beating fast, you could hear it, feel it. His hand smoothed up your back. “We’ll do something. Go exploring and stuff. Do some fun stuff.” 

“You’re ‘sposed to rest.” You muttered, cheek squished to his chest. “It’s before your game, you’re supposed to be resting.” 

“Yeah, but that is resting.” Eddie shook his head gently. “I’ll be alright. Promise. Played after way worse. Me and Josh used to come in hungover, vomited on the ice one time.” Eddie’s chest rumbled with soft laughter. “Pretty sure we’re the reason that rule’s in place now.” 

Your lips curled, even through your sullen, dazed mood, you couldn’t help it. Clinging to him tighter, you moved into his touch. “Coach just means take it easy like, don’t go get fucked up and actually sleep the night before.” Eddie muttered, chin tucking down onto your head. “C’mon, lemme take you out tomorrow. Me and you. Go anywhere you want.” 

You didn’t reply. Instead, sighed gently, settling into his hold. 

Eddie was restless through all of morning practice, hands buzzing, ready to run to the rental car at the first dismissal. Shower be damned, he’d take a quick one at the hotel, he couldn’t be held up any longer. 

“What’s goin’ on with you, Munson?” Elijah muttered, next to Eddie in the huddle on the ice, the coach’s droning about protocol for the game. 

“Nothin’.” Eddie whispered back, twisting his stick in his hands. “Just wish he’d fuckin’ hurry up.” 

Elijah’s eyes cut to Eddie, snorting lightly. “You got somewhere to be?” 

“Yeah, I do actually.” Eddie sighed out. “Gotta get back. Promised my girl I’d take her out.” 

Elijah’s brows raised. “Shit, you brought her with you?” 

Eddie’s shoulders tensed. “She wanted to come.” He muttered defensively. “I mean, she wanted to. Now it’s kinda fucked, she’s-” Eddie’s eyes cut around him. “She’s kinda homesick.” 

Elijah nodded slowly. “Yeah, that happens.” He fought back a smile. “When’s the last time you took her out?” 

Eddie’s eyes cut to him, defensive with accusation. “It’s not like that. I take her out.” 

“Yeah? On the off day? After we’ve traveled all day?” Elijah snorted, shaking his head. “C’mon, Munson. Believe me, that doesn’t count.” 

Eddie ignored him, gripping his stick with furious annoyance. The fuck did he know? He didn’t know anything. 

“Look, I’m not tryna piss you off. I did it, too. Just- believe me, alright? That one day shit doesn’t work.” Elijah pressed gently. 

“Hey, I got it, alright? I’m good.” Eddie growled. 

Elijah held his hands up in defense. “Alright, I’m just saying, when it was me,” He started. “I wasn’t meaning to. I just wasn't used to it. Had my own road routine and tried to fit her around it instead of into it. Thought it was going good until it wasn’t.” 

Eddie stilled, silent but shoulders slumping lightly. “You gotta change your routine, find a way to fit her into it. She’s on the road too, not just you.” Elijah continued. 

The coach whistled, waving them in dismissal. Eddie blinked, pulled out of his daze, lifting his helmet and stick with him. Elijah nodded at him. “Have fun tonight, Munson.” He smiled softly. “Make sure you take her somewhere nice.” 

Elijah’s words rang in Eddie’s head all the way back to the hotel, only a short drive from the arena. Eddie nearly threw his keys at the valet, sliding into the elevator shamelessly, bouncing on the balls of his toes until he reached your floor. 

You startled when he came in, sitting at the vanity, doing your makeup. “You’re done already?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, ducking down for a kiss. “Just gotta shower real quick, but are you hungry?” He shimmied his workout sweats onto the floor, kicking his socks off with them. 

Your eyes lingered over his bare lower half for a second, turning back to paint your mascara on. “I’m not starving.” You mumbled. 

“Alright, good, I was gonna see if we could go to this place. I think you’ll like it.” Eddie grinned over his shoulder at you, the hiss of the shower coming to life. “Some guys told me if you’re in Pasadena you gotta go here.” His smile so wide, eyes sparkling in the dim yellowed light of the hotel bathroom, it made your tummy tingle with warm excitement. 

“Promise you’re not looking?” Eddie mumbled, hands over your eyes, waddle-walking awkwardly behind you, pressed close to your back. 

“Swear I’m not.” You grinned. Eddie was right, it was beautiful outside. Warm and bright, light illuminating his hands that covered your eyes with a reddish glow. 

“I can feel you trying to. Your lashes are tickling me.” Eddie muttered, leaving you giggling. “Ok, just- you know what, this is good enough. I’m scared you’re gonna trip.” Eddie said, lips curling at your soft laugh. 

“Are you ready for your surprise?” You could hear Eddie’s grin in his voice, a breeze floating between the two of you. 

“Yes.” You giggled, Eddie’s chest swelling at the sound. “Just show me. Your hands are clammy. They’re gonna smear my mascara.” 

“Shit, sorry.” Eddie muttered sheepishly, a blush spilling on his cheeks, pulling his hands away so they were still in front of you. “Ok, ready?” 

“Eddie-” 

“-Sorry, Alright, one, two,” Eddie moved his hands, smiling proudly in front of you, a pinkish looking building behind you. “Here it is! Surprise!”

You blinked. “Oh.” You quipped softly. 

Eddie blinked, smile falling. “What? I thought you’d- You don’t like it?” 

“No,” You shook your head. “I mean, no, that’s- Where are we?” 

“Oh,” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Shit, I thought you’d know. Uh, apparently this place is supposed to be like the place for flowers, y’know? Pasadena has that flower festival thing, but it’s not until later and I know you like to go to the cool places, and-” Eddie motioned to the store behind him. 

You took in the building, spilling over with plants you could see from the inside. “I, uh, I know you miss home.” Eddie said softly. “And I was just thinking, y’know, we can’t get houseplants like at home, but maybe some bouquets? Some flowers for the hotel room.” 

Eddie waited a beat, desperately trying to read your face, eyes wandering over the building and the signs. “I thought maybe you’d pick out some flowers and-and it would make it feel like home.” Eddie’s hands slid down his jeans, hot from the sun beaming on them. “Plus, you wanted to see some around here, a-and y’know… one bird, two stones.” Eddie rambled, shrugging sheepishly. 

You felt the familiarity of a cry bubbling back in your chest, swelling and suffocation, only this time the aching of sadness was gone. In its place, a bubbling, burning feeling of adoration was left, consuming you from the inside out with every nervous glance Eddie gave you. He’d listened, really fucking listened. He always did, but this time it was different. Relief, comfort washing over you for the first time in days. 

It felt like home. 

Like the two of you were back in Hawkins, or Indianapolis even, perusing the usual spots, happy and content to be together in a familiar place. 

Eddie wasn’t expecting you to grab him, pull him into you with a fierce, sloppy kiss. Right there on the sidewalk, under the California sunshine. Lips melting into his, clawing and grabbing at his shirt, the back of his neck. Eddie’s cheeks burned bright when you pulled apart, a smile so wide and goofy it made you giggle. 

He let you grab his hand, lead him around the flower shop like a lost puppy, picking out anything and everything that made you smile. A bright bouquet spilling out beautifully in the green vase, made just for you. 

You sat it right on the small bedside table, beaming at how it livened up the room. Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or you. Either way, it revived you, made you happier and giddier. Made the sheets of the hotel less cold when you slipped beneath them, legs tangled in his, pinning him under you onto the stiff mattress. It made the room brighter, spilling with a new fragrance that felt familiar. 

It was small, a miniscule way that meant the world to you; made you feel at home. Eddie knew it, planning how he’d do it with every next city, until you finally got back home.

[littlexdeaths]

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: slight suggestiveness on eddie’s part, but also lots of tooth rotting fluff <3

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: this takes place somewhere after the car troubles saga, but before the fake dating saga. based on this lovely request, i hope you like it my love! i appreciate your patience xx

“dude, you sound like fucking shit.”

you hear sid’s voice ring out loudly from the dining room.

you sit up, your inherent nosiness now quickly outweighing any desire to pay attention to the movie flashing across the television. so you carefully get up from the sofa and you peek your head around the corner into the dining room.

sid has his back to you, watching out the window while he continues to talk on the phone. wednesday nights were always slotted for band practice, so you knew it could be one of four people that he was talking to. you just hoped it wasn’t a certain curly haired lead guitarist on the other end.

wednesdays had quickly become your days together as well, once sid fell asleep that is.

your brother snorts but just shakes his head in response to whatever the person on the other line just said.

“nah, don’t worry about it, ed. i’ll see what the other guys wanna do, no need to infect the rest of us with your crap.” he laughs and your heart sinks a little.

so eddie wasn’t coming tonight.

while you feel a little disappointed, an idea suddenly comes to you. and your mind is already made up before sid can even finish hanging up the phone. you grab your keys and purse and hurry past him to the front door.

“hey! where the hell are you going in such a rush?” your brother calls while you slip on your sneakers.

“robin’s having really bad cramps, gotta get her some stuff.”

you’re a little shocked with how easily the lies and excuses come to you now, but you know it’s better than dealing with the reality of sid knowing.

“okay— too much info!” he says with a whistle before he picks the phone back up to call jeff.

you make it to the bradley’s big buy without any issues, besides a disapproving look from hopper as you flew past him on main street. you’re just grateful he was feeling nice today and didn’t pull you over.

as you push the squeaky cart through the aisles you begin to pile saltines, pedialyte and chicken noodle soup into the basket. paying extra mind to grab a couple packages of reese’s pieces and twizzlers on your way past the register.

two of his favorites.

during your short drive to forest hills trailer park, you can’t help the nerves from rumbling in your belly. would he be upset that you showed up unannounced? you didn’t think that was likely, but things were still so new between you. and you really don’t want to mess anything up.

but the look of delighted surprise that crosses his features when he opens the door has any lingering worries dissolving almost instantly. while he’s dressed in a pair of checkered pajama pants and a ratty old band tee— he still manages to take your breath away.

“surprise!” you mumble sheepishly.

“you know,” eddie grins, the tip of his finger tapping against his chin, “i don’t think i ordered a nurse?”

his small chuckle quickly morphs into a hacking cough, the male resting his body further against the doorframe. but the way he’s leaning against it is very reminiscent of that night your car broke down, the night that changed everything. only this time the sweat on his brow is from a fever and not the raging humidity.

“well lucky for you, i do house calls,” you tease, lightly brushing past him to enter the trailer.

eddie had set up camp in the living room, if the amount of tissues strewn about the floor were anything to go by.

“uh… sorry ‘bout the mess,” his already pink cheeks flush a shade darker while he quickly tries to tidy up. “—wasn’t expecting company.”

you can tell by his wobbly stance that he shouldn’t be up and moving around at all right now, so when he bends down again to grab more discarded tissues— you stop him.

“hey, don’t worry about that now, okay?” you reassure him, slipping your hand around his waist to guide him back towards his bedroom.

eddie all but deflates into your side, his mouth lifting into another grin when you reach the edge of his unmade bed.

“i see what’s going on here…” he hums, “trying to get me in bed before we’ve even been on a proper date.”

one of his palms slaps over his chest in mock horror as he flops down onto his mattress in the most dramatic, yet completely eddie-like manner imaginable.

“what kind of guy do you think i am, sweetheart?”

you roll your eyes fondly when he sits back up, eyebrows quirking up suggestively beneath his bangs.

“oh shame on me, we must keep that precious virtue of yours intact.” you giggle, letting him wrap his arm around your waist while he tucks you into the space between his thighs.

you can feel the overwhelming warmth radiating through the thin cotton of his shirt, and the beads of sweat beginning to trickle down his neck when you wrap your arms around him.

“please tell me you’ve been taking tylenol or something for this fever, eds.”

concern laces your tone, but you already know the answer by the way he peeks up at you under his lashes in feigned innocence.

“—uh… no.”

you let out a sigh before untangling yourself from him and he almost manages to follow you out of his room. but you are quick to turn on your heel and press a firm hand to his chest.

“nuh uh, mister. you need to lay down,” you scold, despite the pout adorning his features. “and that’s an order.”

eddie utters a soft, so bossy under his breath before he retreats back to his bed. you’re quick to rummage through the medicine cabinet in his bathroom until you find what you’re looking for. coming back to his room with a full glass of water and two tylenol in tow.

he tosses the pills back without any further argument, much to your relief. but the male immediately reaches for you again and you unwillingly slip through his fingers.

“nooo— where are you going now?” he all but whines.

you merely respond with a giggle as you slip out of his room, padding down the hall towards your bag of goodies you left near the front door. you snatch out the candy and pedialyte, and graciously clean up the rest of his tissues before making your way back towards his room.

eddie perks up at the sight of you, immediately pulling back the bedsheets and welcoming you in with open arms. you set your goodies down on his nightstand before sliding in next to him, the male completely enveloping you in his embrace.

“thank you.” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and truly, he means it.

eddie has spent most of his life fending for himself, so he’s not used to someone wanting to dote on him like this. but the fact that you were so willing to drop everything to come here and check on him — spoke volumes.

you carefully tilt your head up to glance at him, his soft chestnut hues meeting yours as he tucks comfortably into his side.

“anytime, eds.”

and you mean it too.

you spend the better part of the evening nursing him back to health, as much he’ll let you anyway. while eddie is beyond grateful that you’re willing to care for him like this, he’s just happy to be in your presence.

and he can’t deny he’s become quite attached to you in the short time you’d started seeing each other. so much so that when you finally get up to make him some dinner he all but clings to your side, despite your protests for him to go rest.

eddie is nothing if not stubborn, so he follows you into the small kitchen. keeping his arms wrapped securely around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder while you heat up a can of campbell’s chicken noodle soup.

but as much as he's enjoying the coddling in his current state, he draws the line at your attempts to spoon-feed him. it only leads to him playfully nipping at your fingers until he finally manages to sneak the utensil from your grasp.

with his belly fully and his fever beginning to break the two of you make your way back to his bedroom. slipping comfortably beneath the covers while you flip through the tv stations until you’ve settled on some old the price is right reruns.

eddie falls asleep not even five minutes after his head hits the pillow, soft snores tumbling from his plump lips. the utter picture of content. so you can’t help when your gaze quickly shifts from bob barker and the spinning wheel to his sleeping features.

you admire the way his long lashes fan across his freckled cheeks and the little scar on the slope of his nose that you’ve never noticed before. the way his lips are slightly chapped, but still kissable all the same. and when you lean up to press a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, he doesn’t even stir.

but as you snuggle yourself into his chest you miss the way his lips quirk up in a half smile, the male ultimately catching you in the act. eddie decides to say nothing as your breathing begins to slow and you drift off to sound of his steady heartbeat in your ears.

and later, when wayne returns home from work that evening to find you both entangled and sleeping soundly in his nephew’s bed, he just quietly shuts the door behind him with a knowing grin on his face.

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @devil-in-hiding @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove @indigosparkle444 @tlclick73 @hellfire--cult @take-everything-you-can @guiltyasquinn

let me know if you’d like to join the taglist!

[lemonjamdraws]

early posting for @lilanette-week day 3- bodyswap

small ficlet to accompany it as well

“Marinette? Are you okay?” There’s a strange high-pitched voice in her ear. Lila shakes her head, pressing a hand to her temple.

“What the hell…?” Her back is sore as hell, but she’s definitely not where she just was, and her own voice sounds different. Like, sweeter and rounder somehow. Just then, she registers the name she heard.

“Marinette?” She blinks as she pulls herself up to standing, squinting down at her paler skin and pink capris. What?

“Yes, you, Marinette!” The voice comes again, shrill and piercing, and she looks to the side to see a tiny red creature floating before her. Her jaw drops as she steps back. “Wait- you’re not Marinette-”

Just then, a force flies into her side and smashes her into the wall again.

“Ack! Sorry!” Another voice says–her voice–and she looks incredulously at the huge mass of dark brown hair against her. When the perpetrator looks up, she’s stunned. Like she’s looking into a mirror, except there’s a completely different expression than usual on her face.

“Who the hell are you? Is that my body? And what is the fairy? What-?”

“An akumatized villain swapped our bodies,” the fake-Lila says, pulling back to stand up straight. Lila looks around, having lost sight of the red thing. She does not trust the situation. “Oh boy, this got messy fast. Um. Tikki, help me out?”

Just then, there’s a tickle at her ear. Lila practically jumps, whipping her head around as goosebumps rise on her skin. Her hands rise automatically to protect her ears, but already there’s that red thing flying away towards the fake Lila, two black earrings in hand.

“Sorry!” That high-pitched voice calls out again.

Dots connect as she stares.

“No way,” she says, “you’re Ladybug, Marinette?”

“Umm,” fake-Lila says, “uhhh. Noo, that would be ridiculous, hahaha. Your ears are pierced by the way, right?”

Lila fixes her with a pointed glare and folded arms as fake-Lila manages to slot the studs into her ears with actual impressive ease.

“Okay, so. I’ll definitely explain this later. But if I don’t do this then we’re gonna be stuck like this forever,” fake-Lila says. Lila looks down at herself, at the painfully bright pink and honestly boring shirt and jacket combo.

“And that would be awful,” Lila finishes, “I certainly don’t want to walk around dressed like this.”

Fake-Lila’s mouth opens in protest. “Hey! I’m literally a fashion designer.” Lila makes an unimpressed sound, making a show of observing her own outfit.

“You certainly don’t dress like it,” she sniffs.

“I don’t have time for this,” Fake-Lila huffs, “Tikki, spots on!”

Miraculously, Lila watches as her body is consumed by a swirl of pink sparkles. When the VFX dissipate, the girl is standing there with a spotted red jacket and high-waisted shorts. Lila’s long hair is pulled into two different loose ponytails, and her face partially obscured by a classic red mask, complete with a single red spot on the center.

“Looks like even the miraculous can tell that I’m more fashionable than you,” Lila says with a smirk, satisfied at the much more attractive design that formed for her, versus that awful, awful spotted suit that Ladybug normally wears.

“Wait, really?” Fake-Lilabug takes a long look at the layers of her new outfit, shifting her feet out to observe the black boots complete with antennae-like bits flicking out the back. “Dang, this is not fair at all. I’m going to need to have some words with Tikki.”

“Is Tikki that bug thing that literally pickpocketed me?”

“I’m not sure removing my earrings from my body counts as pickpocketing,” fake-Lilabug returns. “So, I’m going to need you to stay quiet about this whole thing. But here’s the bonus! After I defeat this akuma, you can say I lent you the earrings to be Ladybug this time and actually are my best friend. We both win!”

Lila cocks her head.

“Oh, really?” She didn’t expect that, but since Ladybug’s on a time crunch, it makes sense she might try to buy Lila’s favor as quickly as possible. “That’s very nice, but my price for silence is much higher.”

Lilabug frowns, her foot tapping impatiently. “What do you want?” 

Lila smiles sweetly.

“Take me on a date as Ladybug and let me do a vlog about it.” Her words are accompanied with a big grin, and it’s all too amusing to watch fake-Lilabug’s face fall, even if it’s with her face. “Prove me right and let the whole world know that we’re very close.”

Fake-Lilabug looks left and right, biting at her lip.

“You’re going to put yourself in more danger if you do that,” she says. “Hawkmoth will go after you.”

“Let’s just say it won’t be the first time,” Lila returns easily, looking down at her (Marinette’s) nails. “Deal or no deal, darling class prez. Clock’s ticking.”

“Damn it,” the girl swears. “Fine. You stay right here, though. I’ll be back soon.”

“Of course,” Lila says with a smile. “See you soon, bestie~!”

When the room is finally empty of everyone but her, she hums nonchalantly and pulls Marinette’s phone from the pink crossbody bag. 

Hopefully, she has fingerprint ID turned on…

[apute11as]

Everything happens for a reason ~ Alexia putellas x reader

Author note: The poll was close but I’ve decided to do it as parts as it’s easier for me to get regular smaller posts out with my work and things but I hope you enjoy❤️

⚠️ suggestive themes, slight smut, pregnancy, failed ivf mentions

——

The sun light pierced your blinds, bathing your room in a gentle yellow glow. As your eyes fluttered open, you were met with the beautiful site of your wife’s naked, tattooed back asleep next to you. You knew she’d be tired, as were you after your late night activities that went on into the early hours of the morning, needing to make the most of your time together before a gruelling 2 months likely without seeing each other at all.

You admired the woman next to you, and the way that the light made her tanned skin look ethereal. Tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears, you pressed a light kiss to her cheek but as you went to bend back up, you felt an unusual lurch in your stomach. Rising immediately, you went to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. After gagging for a couple of seconds, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, one that surely belonged to your girlfriend.

“¿estas bien mi amor?” she questioned with a soft look of concern present on her features.

“Si carino estoy bien I think it’s just nerves because of how soon the World Cup is and the pressure that I’m going to be under.” you replied patting her hand that rested on your shoulder.

“Ok if you’re sure let’s get some water” she exclaimed, offering her hand and using her other to lift you by the hips.

As you entered the kitchen, she quickly made you water and a warm cup of coffee which seemed to work pretty well to soothe your aching stomach, a sure sign that this wasn’t a bug but simply nerves.

——

A couple of hours passed and you were feeling almost completely better which definitely helped in reducing your girlfriend’s anxiety. She had helped you with all the finishing touches to packing your bag so that you were now completely ready to go to the airport. Despite the original plan being for you to get a taxi to the airport, after this morning Alexia insisted she drive you in her car, claiming that she could easily divert her taxi to take her to her camp from the airport. After a large discussion, filled with many kisses, you finally agreed.

You planned to leave at 8am but it was currently 7:30 so with half an hour to spare the two of you were cuddled up on the sofa, with Nala settled asleep across both of your laps.

“I’m going to miss you so much amor” alexia whispered into your neck, tightening her grip around you.

“I’ll miss you too Ale, but I’ll see you in the final, when we both get there” you replied, kissing her cheek.

“Hmm” she hummed into you, her hands creeping up your jumper and onto the bare skin beneath it.

“what do you think you’re doing love” you giggled as her cold hands made contact with your exposed midsection.

“Mmm gonna miss you so much” she mumbled as she pulled you into her further, startling poor Nala who preceded to fall into the rug, showing her annoyance with a small bark. At this point, you were now straddling her hips, and she was leaving open mouth kisses on your neck on the marks she’d left last night. She then carefully slotted her thigh in between your legs, trying to make contact though the layers of fabric between her legs and your pussy.

“Ale I need to get ready to go soon or else I’ll miss my check in.” You reminded her but she seemed unfazed as her hand reached your breasts and began to massage them. You moaned as she reached your nipples, allowing her to keep going despite the more logical side to you saying no. However, you draw the line when her hands reach down into your sweatpants to touch your pussy. “Alexia putellas segura you are like a teenage boy are you always horny?” you questioned, whilst simultaneously trying to escape her newfound grip on your hips.

“No I just love you so much bebita and I’m going to miss you and these” she said groping your breasts again.

“Ale stop it I mean it we have to go” you say sternly, finally managing to escape her grasp.

“Fine” she huffed like a child being scolded by their parent. She made a move to stand up but not before giving your ass a smack as she shuffled past you.

“You little-“ you remarked as you began to chase her, Nala joining in with her mami’s playing.

After a painful 15 minutes of Alexia touching you in anyway she can, you finally made it to the car with all of your stuff and Alexia of course opting to carry as much of your stuff as humanly possible, the princess treatment ever present as always. And of course once you had begun your journey, Alexia had placed her hand on your thigh for the entire 30 minutes.

Once you finally reached your destination of the airport, Alexia parked up her Cupra and promptly strolled around the other side of the car to open the door and offer her hand to you so you could get out. Hand in hand, you both ventured to the car trunk to collect your bags, and of course Alexia carried as much as possible; ever the gentlewoman.

So you walked over to the airport hand in hand. After unloading your stuff into the baggage section, it was time to say goodbye to your girlfriend for the next two months. What you hadn’t expected was for the tears to form in your eyes so easily.

“Amor are you crying” alexia asked, her eyes slightly glassy too.

“Yes sorry my love” you responded, letting the tears fall without restraint now as she held you tight in her arms, just had she had after every failed IVF attempt.

“Don’t be sorry I’m just shocked you don’t normally get this emotional I’ll see you soon I promise cariño” she stated with a pitiful smile.

“I think I’m just having one of those days my love I’m really going to miss you” you replied

“And I you guapa” she smiled.

With one last hug, the two of you parted ways and you headed to security and baggage check, boarding pass in hand and unsettling feeling in your stomach.

Once you boarded the plane, you quickly found your seat, it was next to a woman and a small child. Placing your stuff in the overhead storage, you sat down by the window staring into abyss. Around 20 minutes into the flight, the unease in your stomach returned and you suddenly felt bile begin to rise up in your throat. Noticing your discomfort, the woman next to you spoke up.

“are you alright love” she questioned with a maternal glint in her eyes.

“Oh- yes sorry just feeling a bit ill” you replied hesitantly.

“would you like travel sickness tablets?” She asked with a smile.

“Oh no thank you I don’t usually get travel sick” you assured her.

“Well haha I thought the same until I was pregnant with this one here” she said pointing at the toddler asleep next to her.

“I was great with travelling but then I just started to feel sick every time I entered a moving vehicle” she chuckled.

“Oh wow I’m sure I’m not pregnant though” you offered weakly.

“Probably but you never know” she rebounded.

“Actually I took a test the other week we were trying for a while, but after the last negative we’ve decided to give it a break” you replied with a hint of sadness.

“Ah I see but those box tests aren’t always correct, I’m sorry if I’m overstepping here but given what you’ve told me maybe it’s worth taking another” she professed.

“Maybe” you said weakly, offering a small smile.

Throughout the journey your thoughts spiralled, what if you were pregnant and the test had been wrong? How would you explain this to your coaches, to Alexia? The sickness persisted, you excused yourself to the bathroom once or twice, but nothing but dry heaving occurred. The likely reality of your predicament began to settle in and what felt like an extensive flight, despite the fact it was only 2 hours, the plane touched town in rainy England and as you stepped out of the plane, all that you felt was dread.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 7

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 3262

The One I Want Masterlist

Jake Seresin is a puzzle whose pieces, as you have come to see, are already slotted together. You learned tonight that a few of those pieces are worn from being picked at, but they don’t impede his ability to be complete. Jake is beautiful and smart with a well-built confidence and a certain quality that, with enough time, makes you want to open yourself up to him. Everything about him goes together. It all works. Those pieces make Jake the man he is, in all of his perfection. So being in his presence, you want to be who he wants you to be. You want to be just as put together. But you’re not sure you’re strong enough for that. 

“You can trust me,” he says, your hands still clasped together. You glance down at those hands, wondering when exactly he wove his fingers with yours. “I’ll share first if that’ll make it any easier.”

Eyes flicking up, you take in the intensity of the pair staring back at you—the depth within them, the swelling pupils that are pushing the green into a thin ring and drawing you in. They’re too honest, and it hits you like a ton of bricks.

Has anyone else ever looked at you this way? You think the closest instance you can recall involves the man you’d naively fallen in love with who lived in the first town you’d moved to on your own. But his look was a hidden lie discovered far too late. 

You suppose there was a fraction of Jake’s honesty in Millie’s eyes when she expressed her thoughts and told her story so openly. She would probably be willing to attempt understanding you if you offered it. 

You know you’re reaching, though. Trying to grasp at something that isn’t all there to prove that the way Jake is looking at you now is nothing unique. That it’s not special. That he doesn’t make your heart pound or your stomach flutter or cause a tingle to creep up your spine.

But when you consider telling him the truth of your history, you already sense the shame you’ve been living with for years preparing to double in force. And how can you allow that? You don’t need anything else weighing you down. You can’t possibly handle more. Certainly not from him. 

You tear your eyes away from his and aren’t shocked to find that that’s exactly what it feels like—a tear. A tearing that holds so much resistance you can practically hear the slow rip that severs the connection. 

“It’s not that easy,” you whisper.

“It can be,” he says, fingers tightening around yours. “You know how much I want to know you.”

The closing of your throat doesn’t allow you to swallow. An invisible hand is wrapped around your neck, blocking your oxygen, fogging your vision with unwanted tears. Your lip quivers all on its own.

Jake reaches out, lightly pressing his thumb to that lip as if he could stop its trembling. 

Then you shake your head and his thumb disappears. 

Standing, you try to step away, but his hand, still tangled with yours, stops you. You think he’s doing it on purpose, refusing to let you leave until he gets what he wants, but when you look at his face, it’s blank. His eyes stare ahead, the corners of his mouth are turned downward, and he doesn’t seem to feel you prying open his fingers to free your hand. 

His arm drops and slides into his lap, and you take that as a sign to retreat to your bedroom. 

You’re not quite through the door when you hear, “I wish you felt like you could trust me.” His voice is as defeated as his facial expression had shown. Low, dark, raspy. “Whatever it is, it's not going to change how I see you.”

You want to believe him so badly. So much so that, without any effort, you could let it consume you. But you can’t bet on his words. So you close your door the rest of the way. 

—

You’ve thought about him for a week straight, and each of those thoughts has scribbled their way into the notebook you’d sort of kind of—would deny it if anyone asked—stolen from the shop. 

But your little notes on Jake you don’t allow to blend with the chaotic notes of your past. He gets his own pages with words written in neater script. There’s not a single smudge of ink from your hand rubbing the paper in a rush to get your memories down before you forget some of their details. Not a single splotch of liquid black from a pen pressed too harshly onto the paper. No holes from that pen tracing the same words over and over in a fit of dampened anger. Like Jake, your notes on him are neat, and beautiful, and perfect in appearance. 

What they contain, however, is something different: bunches of sentences warring with one another as you try to decide what you’re going to do next. You live with him. You see him every day. You’ll have to interact, which means you’ll have to get over this hump. The only problem is that it may not be a hump Jake wants to get over.

In the months you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him the way he was that night last week. So much was crammed into a couple of hours and it provided you with a fresh image of him—not an image that changed, exactly, but simply an image that developed a new layer. And you liked having that layer of his visible, until it became clear that the spotlight was turning to you so you may develop another layer as well. 

Stepping out of that light meant plenty to you—you knew the message you were sending, even though you felt resistance from every part of you screaming to stay put—but it did more to Jake than you imagined, and that realization came in the form of Jake not speaking to over the past weeks worth of mornings, not smiling, not waiting for you so you could share breakfast. He’s gone before your alarm goes off. 

It only took you ten hours to notice the void that formed in your chest from missing him around you. After ten hours—most of which you spent trying to sleep—you felt awful in more ways than one. Not only were you exhausted and absorbing your dislike of his absence that first morning, but Jake, despite his hurt state, continues to take care of you. 

Those breakfasts he doesn’t wait around to share with you are still available, already made up on a plate with saran wrap keeping them safe in the fridge. The post-its he sticks to the coffee pot to inform you of said breakfasts never fail to have a small smiley face drawn in the corner. And to be fair, he does speak to you a little, but unless it seems to be a matter of life or death, which you haven’t been able to manage, his answers are clipped. Even then, it could be that those short answers are the best he can do for himself rather than anything he is doing for your benefit. With how much Jake talks in general, and with how lively you are used to seeing him, maybe he can’t be one-hundred percent silent no matter how much he wants to. 

Regardless of what it really is, the tension has grown thicker by the day.

These days are not ones you want to morph into routine. You can’t watch them settle and solidify when you crave him and what he adds to your new life to this degree. Which means you have to figure yourself out. Not all of you—that will take some time—but enough of you that you can approach Jake and take the chance to be honest with him. His offer to exchange stories shows that it is not just you who needs it, but Jake as well. 

That is what has prompted you to bring your notebook to work over the last seven days. And the more time you spend writing your notes, the more you release from your damaged soul, and the more good things about Jake start piling up. His faults are underwhelming and overshadowed, and all it confirms is that you want him back. So you decide that when he picks you up from work, something you never expected him to continue doing considering your current relationship, you’re going to break the silence by asking for another chance. 

—

When Rooster’s truck pulls up to the store, Millie is leaning halfway out the passenger side window, one hand waving your way, the other arm bracing her precarious position. A moment later, her elbow slips on the sill and she lurches forward with a sharp yelp. Looking past her, you can see Rooster reach over the center console and wrap his arm around her waist to pull her back to safety. 

“Babe, please,” he groans. “You’re stressing me out.”

She glances at him over her shoulder. “Oh, you hush. I’ve never fallen.”

“Yet,” he emphasizes. “I’d like it if my girlfriend stayed alive. I've got plans that involve you.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Darlin’. You know my hips will save me from making it all the way out the window.” 

Rooster only rolls his eyes in response before unwrapping his arm and giving her ass a light smack. 

Millie looks back at you, her grin wide and displaying a row of straight, white teeth. “Hey, honey. Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

“You can only work so hard here,” you say with a weak chuckle. “Where’s Jake? Is he okay?”

You want that answer as much as you don’t. You pray he’s fine and safe, but then it means the tension that hasn’t dwindled the slightest has finally become too much for him. Though you’d rather he avoid you than be injured or ill, it hurts no less. Right as you devise a plan to bring the two of you back together, he pulls further away.

“Oh, he’s um…” Millie bites her lip.

“Staying on base tonight,” Rooster says, leaning back to meet your eyes over Millie’s shoulder. “He went in to get some extra work done and thought it would be easier.”

If the lie weren’t so terribly obvious, Rooster’s face would’ve betrayed him. The man is not a master of deception. He can’t pull it off. You suppose that bodes well for Millie, if he would ever dare tell her an untruth. Not that you can imagine a situation where he would. 

Millie’s nerves wipe from her face at her boyfriend’s explanation, and you almost snort from how cute they are. They operate as their own little team, supporting and backing their partner up to keep the other from falling. Whether they succeed in their mission, like trying to convince you Jake is busy, is another thing. 

Your little red-headed friend transforms back into her giddy self. “Right, so he asked us to come get ya,” she says with a wink.

Now that, you do believe. Jake may not want to see you, but he wouldn’t leave you stranded. And as disappointing as it is to see Rooster’s truck instead of the one you perfer, you know it’s not enough to convince you to give up on your end goal. With your plan thwarted, you only gain more time to figure out exactly how you’re going to bring up what you want to tell Jake.

—

You’ve decided Sundays are the best days. Sundays are easy days. They are days set aside for relaxing, where you can spend twenty-four hours in your home with only a robe wrapped around your body and not be judged. Many stores are closed on Sundays, the gift shop included, and most people don’t work, Jake included. And Jake Seresin, though not the type to sit around, does allow himself the mornings of Sundays to be what he would normally consider lazy. 

When you first moved in, you didn’t love this habit of his. Knowing no one but him and knowing no place but the apartment meant you didn’t do anything or see anyone else. He had you locked in with him for at least three hours before he met his team at the gym, and he took those three hours very seriously. Most of their minutes he dedicated to being around ta you,lking to you, asking you questions—anything you did, he was there to do it with you. And while it once bugged you a bit, it eventually grew on you. He grew on you. You stopped caring about how he spent his Sunday mornings because your routine and his melded into a comfortable place, and you've had no intentions of disrupting that—until now. 

After forgoing sleep to spend the entire night thinking about Jake, you’re sure you look like hell when you step out of your room and into the living room where he sits. You didn’t think to check yourself in the mirror, and Jake doesn’t acknowledge you in favor of reading his book to confirm or deny your likely-ragged state. 

You don’t care how you look, though. 

You care about pushing yourself forward. 

“Jake?” 

His hum is dismissive, but you don’t hold it against him. You understand his feelings too well, and you accept them. When he was so vulnerable and raw—when he told you something he’d not told even his closest friends—you denied him the same courtesy, and that decision hurt him. He aches. You still see it on his face and in his movements. The way his fingers gripped the book and his shoulders tensed the moment you entered the room. How he pulled his bottom lip inward and trapped it between his teeth and has yet to let it go. 

He’s trying to hide the discomfort your presence causes, and he is doing so well that, as someone with plenty of experience, you’re almost proud. But the act unravels completely when you say, “I trust you.”

His head slowly rises. Then, closing the book and setting it aside, Jake stands from his spot on the couch, brow pinched as if he had not heard you correctly. “What did you say?”

“I trust you,” you repeat. 

One hand settles on his hip as the other goes through his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut in a two-second long blink as if trying to snap himself awake. Lips part, perhaps to say something, anything, but then they seal again. 

Before you lose your nerve, you inhale, exhale, and with a single nod, mutter to yourself a final, “I trust him.” 

Then you spew out everything you’ve kept inside—everything you’ve kept away from him. 

“My parents left me,” you say aloud for the very first time. You try to hold them back, but tears accompany that statement, gathering in the corners of your eyes. “Dad first, when I was nine. Mom when I was fourteen. They left and I don’t know where they are, and I don’t really care, but they disappeared and it…it messed me up. It left me lost, and I learned to let people hurt me because no one showed me anything else. I let people treat me however they want, which most often means attacking the insecure parts of me. I let them call me names and look at me in ways that strip me of my dignity, and I can’t stop it. I don’t stop them.

“When I can’t take it anymore, I leave wherever I am,” you say before pausing to catch your breath. 

Jake doesn’t take the opportunity to speak. He stands there, staring, listening, waiting for you to offer him more. 

“You weren’t that far off at the diner when you said I was trying to live in every beach town for two months before moving on to the next. They haven’t all been beach towns, but there have been many of them and I never stay for long,” you admit. “The minute I have the means, I go. I graduated high school by myself and left my hometown, fell in love with an asshole in the second town and left, got a job at a bar whose drunks found me an easy target, so I left again, and it’s been the same everywhere I’ve landed, again and again and again. People break me down so I find someplace new. You are—” You cut yourself off to reconsider your words, “This is my eleventh new place.” One of those tears breaks free to slide down your cheek. “And I don’t know how long I’m going to last here, but I already hate the thought of leaving.”

Done with your speech, you release a heavy breath.

When Jake looks away from you, it’s a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Your heart crushes with the realization that you were right. Jake was wrong. Seeing you differently is not as difficult as you had hoped and he had promised. In fact, he doesn’t see you at all anymore because he won’t even give you a glance. You presented the reality that you are unloved and unwanted and explained exactly why that is, and now he has in his hand all of the reasons why others mistreat you, the ability to evaluate those reasons, and decide for himself if those reasons are valid. 

And in that moment, you know you are fucked. You’re about to be lost again. On your own, in the dark, with nothing to hold on to. Not that you didn’t anticipate this coming along eventually, but you would have liked to stick around a little longer. 

Through the blur of tears, you see Jake nod. That’s all. No words, no shift in facial expression; he nods to the floor rather than give you the respect of nodding to your face. He nods again, and then he looks up to meet your gaze. 

Jake’s hands fall from his hips, and in four strides he closes the space keeping you apart, cups your jaw in the heat of his palms, and plants his lips on yours. 

His kiss lands somewhere between hard and soft, between eager and restrained, between needy and downright desperate. And after adjusting to the shock he plunged you into, your mouth begins to move against his. 

Jake is warm, and cozy; he tastes like the one Splenda packet he puts in the oatmeal he occasionally has for breakfast, and it all makes your brain hum in a comfortable delight. You take from him all that he takes from you, and give to him all that he gives you, and in the process, accept that you truly want this and he wants this and that’s all that matters. You’re not working harder to please him than he is working to please you. You’re not thinking about what he will think when your lips separate. You’re not afraid of being a disappointment because were that the case, surely he would have released you by now. But he hasn’t released you. He holds on and pulls closer and doesn’t let go, not even when the kiss breaks.

Thumbs stroke your cheeks as your eyes slowly drag from his swollen lips to his nose to that mossy-green shade you’ve become attached to. There’s a hint of concern in his stare. But then you smile, so he smiles, and the concern fades. 

“Your turn,” you whisper.

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (03)

chapter three: puzzle pieces

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; unprotected sex (this is fiction, not real life. don’t do it kids), oral sex (m. and f. receiving), fingering, cum eating, praise kink if you squint???, could’ve been edited a bit more but oh well i tried lol word count: 3.2k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › series masterpost › taglist

If loving you’s a crime Cuff me up, I’ll do my time for you, girl When I make you mine (when I make you mine) Didn’t come all this way just to waste your time

Over Some Wine - RINI ft. Maeta

It wouldn’t have taken that long to walk to your apartment. And normally, you would welcome the brisk night stroll with friends, basking in the chilly but pleasant air as you wander the empty streets, with nothing but the glow of everlasting youth for warmth every time the wind breezes by.

Though tonight you had opted to hail a taxi back to yours after leaving the club. You’re not an impatient person and neither is Minho, but whenever you’re around him, waiting always seems to be the hardest thing to do.

The entire time you were in the car, his hand was on your leg, the touch seemingly innocent at first, until his fingers started trailing higher and higher, until his hand was gripping your inner thigh. His knuckles brushed against your core at one point, and you had to summon every last bit of control not to jump his bones right then and there.

Once you're finally within the comfort of your own home, Minho's got you hoisted up with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips instantly chasing yours while his hands settle on your ass, squeezing you as he carries you to your bedroom. He knows the layout of your apartment well enough that he doesn't have to break away from the kiss for more than a second to navigate the place and reach his desired destination.

It's only when he has lowered you on the bed that he stops kissing you, latching onto your neck while his clothed erection grinds against you. You choke on a breath as Minho sucks on a sweet spot, his favorite place to mark you. You love it, even though you always end up complaining to him that you have to cover it up when you go outside.

His hands knead you roughly, one still on your ass, the other having moved to your chest. You tug on his shirt, desperate and impatient, and he complies almost immediately. He finishes his work on your neck with a particular hard suck, his tongue soothing the skin before he pulls away from you just far enough to get rid of the shirt.

Minho dives in to kiss you again but you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly before your lips could meet. “Take off your pants,” you demand restlessly.

“What?” he simpers, though his hands are already reaching to undo his belt. “You don’t wanna kiss some more?”

“You can kiss me while you fuck me.”

It’s easy to tell that your words affect him, judging from the way his eyes glaze over with lust and the retort that he swallows back down. While he kicks off his jeans and boxers, you work on stripping yourself bare for him. You’re both naked in record time, and then he’s gravitating toward you once again.

It’s routine at this point; Minho likes to make you come at least once or twice before he fucks you. He’s about to descend your body before you’re stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Not gonna let me have a taste?” he pouts.

“Later,” you tell him. “I just need you now.”

He bites his lip like he’s contemplating it, then slots his body between your open legs, his bare cock positioned on your inner thigh. “You sure? Don’t want me to prep you first?” he asks.

“No.” Your hands slide up his neck, pulling him closer until he’s resting his forehead against yours. “Can’t wait. Want you so bad...”

You’re practically whimpering, positively dripping with need as you tell him this. It makes Minho lose his mind a little bit, makes his breath hitch. He kisses you again as his fingers slip through your folds, pleased to find that you’re already beyond wet.

The sounds that you make, muffled by his lips, go straight to his cock; the length throbs, hardens impossibly more.

He dips his fingers into your entrance regardless, burying them to the hilt, scissoring you open. You buck against his hand instantly, your pliant cunt soaking his digits as you whine - or try to, anyway. It’s good, the way he’s fucking his fingers into you, but you need more.

“Min, just fuck me...” You break the kiss to look at him with darkened eyes, full of desire. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Then he’s pulling out, making a quick show of sucking his fingers clean, humming contentedly at your taste. The sudden emptiness that he leaves you with almost hurts, but it dissipates when he aligns himself with you, rubbing his tip against your clit a few times before he’s finally pushing in.

There’s a stretch but it’s not unpleasant. It’s delicious, how he fills you up so perfectly like he was made just for you.

That thought crosses your mind again.

My puzzle piece. My perfect fit.

You let out a drawn moan as Minho bottoms out. You can’t think straight, not when he’s this close to you, not when you can feel all of him. Not when it’s practically suffocating you, just how intimate the moment is.

You know it’s not exactly what you signed up for, or at least you still try to remind yourself that. And yet...

You two don’t use condoms anymore; you haven’t in a while. It’s a little reckless and stupid, you know that. Maybe if someone else had come to you and told you that they were forgoing protection with their close-friend-turned-friend-with-benefits, you would scold the shit out of them. But this is your situation, and people don’t tend to be very wise when it comes to their own dilemmas, do they?

Minho always pulls out, and you never forget to take your birth control. Of course, there’s always some concern, but it isn’t really on the forefront of your mind right now. There hasn’t been any scares so far.

“Okay?” he asks, brushing his lips against your cheek as he holds your waist.

You nod fervently. “More than okay. Please move.”

He chuckles at your impatience, giving your sides a tender squeeze before rearing his hips back. The drag of his cock along your walls makes you sigh, and when he plunges back into you, you almost shudder from how fucking good it feels.

“Minho...” His name falls from your lips hoarsely, brokenly. The pace he sets is fast, makes you see stars from the get-go. He would’ve preferred to play with you a bit more to ease the stretch for you, but he knows you wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t think you could handle it.

You pull him closer with your arms around his neck until your chest is pressed tightly against his. He kisses you again, slowly, sweetly, while he thrusts into you hard and fast.

You know he likes it when you’re loud for him, because of him. He’s told you that much himself. But more often than not, Minho would kiss you a lot during sex, swallowing the moans trying to escape from you.

Maybe he’s just looking out for your poor neighbors.

Or maybe he just likes kissing you that much.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips, breaking away momentarily to let you breathe. His cock nudges your g-spot on every stroke and it feels like heaven. “You’re doing so good, baby. Always take me so well.”

You don’t know if it’s the pet name that makes your heart skip a beat or if it’s just the praise in general, but either way, it fills you with an indescribable warmth.

You clench around him, your thighs instinctively hugging his waist tighter and that’s how he knows you’re almost there. “Gonna come for me?” he asks, his hips never easing up on their brutal pace because goddamn Lee Minho and his fucking stamina. One of his hands sneaks down to meet your clit, drumming it like he’s playing the freaking guitar and it makes you want to scream.

“So close,” you cry out. He’s brought you to that edge already, and all you have to do now is... fall. “Min, I’m...”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And so you do. You fall. You let yourself tip over the edge and into the sea of pleasure that awaits you. It’s stars exploding behind your eyelids, wonderfully devastating. It’s rapturous euphoria, the way Minho holds you through it all, how he peppers kisses along your jawline, how he never ceases his movements, making your high last as long as possible.

He holds out until he’s seen your orgasm through. When your bliss subsides, his hips stutter, turning more erratic.

“I’m close,” he rasps out.

You hold his face and mimic his actions just a couple minutes ago, kissing his cheek, the bridge of his nose and the cute mole on the side, then finally his lips. “Where do you want it?”

“Your mouth,” he asks gently. “Please.”

When Minho pulls out, you move toward him, settling on your hands and knees until your face is level with his bare cock. He lets out a breathless moan as you take him into your awaiting mouth, humming contentedly when you taste yourself on him. He has both hands on you, one tangled in your hair, the other stroking your cheek affectionately, all the while his hips thrust into your mouth slowly until he hits the back of your throat, only to pull back and do it again repeatedly.

You peer up at him through your lashes, and Minho just thinks you’re so fucking pretty like this, looking at him with innocent eyes, yet you’re doing downright obscene things with him, letting him do the filthiest things to you.

You place your hand on top of his own, the one that’s on your face, caressing your cheekbone. “Baby,” he whimpers brokenly as you hollow out your cheeks to try and suck him off better. His heavy length throbs on your tongue, pulsating with the need to come. He’s aware that he sounds beyond needy and desperate, but you’re just so warm and wet and a fucking goddess that it makes him short-circuit, wiping his mind clean until all he knows is you.

Nothing else, no one else but you.

It takes him only a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s calling out your name in a drawn-out moan, spilling his hot cum down your throat, coating your tastebuds with him. You bop your head along his length for a minute longer, until you’re certain that he has nothing left to give you. When you’re done, your tongue wanders from the base to the tip, lightly sucking and licking the head like a kitten, before you open your mouth to show him that you’ve been a good girl.

Minho is dazed as he stares at you, his lips parted as he tries to even out his breathing. You smile triumphantly as you watch him try to get his bearings, but after a moment, he’s still quiet. You’re about to poke his side to get him to come down from the clouds, but he’s suddenly pulling you up by your arms and kissing you hard. You let out a surprised gasp, muffled against his mouth, before you relax against him, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

He moans when he tastes himself on your tongue, and the vibration caused by the sound makes you press your thighs together.

One of his hands gropes your bare ass before his fingers find your core again, rubbing your slit, gathering the moisture there.

“Did sucking me off make you wet again?” Minho pulls back slightly to ask, a smirk evident on his lips. You don’t say anything; you just look at him with bashful eyes. “Want me to make you come again?”

At this, you nudge his nose with yours. “Will you?” you ask coyly. “Just a quick one.”

He kisses you once more before he gently pushes you backward, motioning for you to lie on the bed as he settles with his head between your legs.

He sucks a faint mark into one of your inner thighs. “Anything for you,” he says.

His lips latch onto your awaiting clit, sucking it into his mouth gently and instantly making you sigh in pure bliss. Your fingers thread themselves in his hair, tugging on it when two of his fingers dip into your entrance without warning. The digits enter you easily, aided by your excess wetness, fucking you fast, determined to make you come again.

You feel like you’re floating.

There’s something about today. Some lines, blurred.

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself nearing the edge again. You’re still a bit sensitive from your previous orgasm after all. “Ah, shit… There…” you keen out, your greedy hands trying to push him further against your cunt, which he happily obliges. 

When you come in his mouth, your thighs shaking around his head, Minho laps it all up, taking his sweet time to lick you clean. You feel him moan against your core, and it isn’t until you start wincing from the overstimulation that he releases you.

A smug grin blooms on his lips as he crawls up the bed, lying down next to you. You take a couple of minutes to catch your breath, thoroughly enjoying the warmth that settles deep in your belly and the satisfying sensation between your legs. You cover your body with the duvet before you roll onto your side to face him.

Pillow talk isn’t your forte.

You just watch him as he watches you carefully, neither of you saying anything as the electricity in the air settles. You wait to see if he would speak, but after a moment, your eyelids start getting heavy. Exhaustion catches up with your body quicky.

“Tired?” Minho asks.

“Mhmm.”

He waits for another beat, reaches a hand out to stroke your hair softly before he gets up and goes to the bathroom. The aftercare is routine, and you cannot express how much you appreciate him for it. He returns with a damp cloth, then peels the duvet from your bottom half to clean you up. He does all of it quietly, and the silence makes you even drowsier.

When Minho is done, he pats your leg and covers you up again. He goes back to observing you and your sleepy face for another minute. You keep your eyes open as you try to maintain eye contact but it’s hard; you feel like you could pass out any second now.

Nevertheless, even in your exhausted state, you still sense the light somberness that befalls the confines of your walls. Usually, this is the part where he leaves, and you can tell that he doesn’t like the realization that he has to go now.

You see it in his face and it makes you a little sad because you know he wants to stay.

Then, it strikes you that you don’t really want him to leave either. At least not tonight.

“It’s late. You can stay the night,” you say quietly, “if you want.”

The same excuse that you used to kick him out the last time, now you’re using to get him to stay.

Minho seems surprised. “Are you okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t okay with it.”

“Oh.”

You catch the tip of his ears turning red. It’s endearing, for some reason.

He puts on his boxers from where they were abandoned on the floor earlier, but opts to remain shirtless. His movements are a bit graceless, like he doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

This is a first for the both of you. The first time he’s ever stayed over.

“Do you want me to grab you a shirt?” he asks.

You nod lazily. “Yes, please.”

Minho wanders over to your wardrobe and rummages through your t-shirt drawer. He picks one out from the bunch, holding it up for you to see. It takes a few seconds for your brain to catch up with you, but when it does, you realize that it’s not your shirt at all. It’s Minho’s, one that he left here some time ago and you were just never reminded to give it back.

“Oh,” you say. “You can wear it if you want. It’s yours anyway.”

“I think I’d rather see you wear it.”

You don’t argue because you’re tired and it’s just a shirt. You throw it on when he hands it to you along with a clean pair of underwear.

“What?” you ask when he just hovers over your bed and stares at you.

His gaze flickers from your eyes to the shirt covering your body, his lips curling upward before he tells you, “Nothing.”

After turning off the lights, Minho climbs into bed with you. You’re lying on your back and you suspect that he’s in a similar position, though you don’t turn to look at him to make sure. It’s awkward, and you don’t really know what to do about it.

A couple minutes later, he brushes his fingers against yours. “Can I?”

You don’t know what he’s asking, but you agree nonetheless. “Okay.”

There’s some shuffling from his direction, like he’s rolled over onto one side to face you in the dark. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, until your back is flushed against his bare chest. The godforsaken thing that you call a heart starts beating wildly for a reason unbeknownst to you. It’s difficult to breathe properly when he’s holding you like this.

Like you’ve never been held before.

You think Minho feels the stiffness of your body in his arms because he starts rubbing odd patterns on your skin, up and down your sides, trying to soothe you.

It helps a bit, but then again it’s probably the sleepiness seeping in more and more too.

“Hey,” you start. “About what Hyunjin said at the party tonight.”

Minho pauses the movements of his fingers a second. “What did he say?”

“The thing he said about the girl…”

He laughs his cute laugh then, his chest vibrating with the sound. “You know the girl is you, right?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“It’s cute.”

“It’s not.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, patting your stomach with affection. “What about what Hyunjin said?”

You take a breath. “I don’t know. What if everyone finds out?”

“They won’t,” Minho reassures you. “They’re not the brightest bunch.”

“Be serious.”

“I am serious,” he protests, then his voice gets smaller, full of hesitation as he asks, “Even if they do find out, would it really be that bad?”

“It wouldn’t be the end of the world,” you tell him, “but I don’t know, it’s…”

Then you trail off, not really knowing what to say. It’s what? Embarrassing? Scary? What?

“Come on.” Minho presses a kiss into your hair after a moment of dead silence. Maybe he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep, or maybe he’s trying to keep you from overthinking everything. The gentle kiss would’ve made you weak in the knees if you aren’t already lying down. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk about it later.”

Your mind takes you back to what he said just now. You can’t help but think how that sentence would sound better if only he’d switched out one word for another.

My girl…

You know my girl is you, right?

It makes your heart skip a beat, then you’re snuggling further into the warmth of his embrace, where he welcomes you with no reservation.

You drift off to the sound of his breathing, dreaming about you and him.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 12.01.2024]

[seamsterslocal]

summer binder picture tutorial

this is the third binder ive made for myself recently and the first one i’m writing up. it’s designed to do a few things: 1) allow me to put it on by myself without dislocating my shoulders 2) allow me to breathe well enough to partake in normal activity 3) be cool enough to wear throughout a muggy 90-100F summer 4) not constrict my ribs in a way that aggravates my lack of connective tissue and causes intense pain.

this has become necessary even though i had top surgery many years ago, because when i had it i was extremely skinny and since then i’ve increased in size by about 50%. this has been really fucking good for my health in every single way* except that when my chest is squishy or moves at all it’s So Goddamn Triggering for me. but also since ive had top surgery ive developed and/or been made away of a plethora of chronic conditions that make every single commercially available binding option medically impossible. unbound, my chest is pretty much what you’d expect for a chubby cis guy but venturing out into the world in just a tshirt no longer works for me

*anyone who badmouths weight gain or fat bodies in the notes WILL be blocked

under the cut are a bunch of process pictures and explanations of what they all mean:

first i’ll give you a look at the pieces and measurements:

most of the seams are sewn in this picture and one half is turned inside out, allowing you to see both the finished dimensions (right) and the placement of the fusible horsehair canvas that gives this lil scrap of linen any structure at all (left)

to get your chest measurement, you’re gonna have to do some math:

first measure above and below what you want to bind. average these numbers. mine are something like 32 and 34, which average to 33. subtract a few inches--this is to allow the air movement between the laces at center front and back, critical in the summertime. i deleted 3 inches bc i like that number but you can go bigger if you want. the more inches you subtract here, the more youll be able to ratchet all your chest material down later, but at the same time you need to leave enough fabric for a sturdy garment. let’s say a range of 2-6 inches/5-15cm. by taking your measurements this way, you’re essentially measuring the chest you would like to have. that + the horsehair canvas work together to compress any squishy tissue/force anything that doesnt compress up and to the outside (basically into the armpit/lower shoulder--the chest might stick out but it will give a very puffed chest captain america pectoral silhouette)

you can also see how ive clipped my curves and pre-drilled my lacing holes. i used the marlin spike on my knife to open up the holes on the interfacing side, mainly as a way of marking them. this worked well bc the interfacing’s glue kept the linen from raveling

this is the same stage but looking at the non-interfaced grey linen/cotton blend (the black is some 100% linen from my cabbage stash). you can see ive broken the solar-plexus-to-back measurement up into a bunch of pieces to save on fabric but that’s not necessary. my original pattern was just two pieces (front and back) and chopping the straps into thirds on both sides was aesthetic

in the following picture you can really see how this is really just overgrown regency stays:

i thought about doing side lacing but didn’t think that would be comfortable for me. on the front, the side seam allowance was pressed inwards before turning to create a finished looking slot. on the back the side seam is left unfinished with an extra wide seam allowance, and is inserted into that slot.

here’s a closeup on it pinned in place (you can adjust the angle of the side seam and the fit during this pinning stage):

that side seam was just topstitched in place once i had the fit how i liked it, and the armhole was reinforced with more topstitching

alright, time for eyelets: first, you can see how well the marking worked:

next, two rows of basted eyelets (left), one row of eyelets sewn with a doubled and waxed cotton thread (center right), and one row of eyelets opened and stainless steel rings placed (right).

next time i’m going to mark the eyelets same as i did above, but do this step differently--i’ll mark and baste the steel rings in place BEFORE widening the eyelets. this is bc i had a lot of problems keeping the eyelets on center

eyelets half done on this one! on the left are eyelets sewn with doubled and waxed cotton thread and on the right eyelets sewn with quadrupled and waxed thread. the center is basting again. i was able to force the holes back in line while sewing the eyelets but it was kinda annoying. adding a second picture that doesnt have great focus but hopefully shows how that process worked and shows the spike clearly

i ended up using this white cotton thread because it’s stronger than my black cotton thread (which the rest of it is sewn with). [eta: after this was first posted, i pressed the whole thing heavily, which effectively de-waxed the thread, and i dyed the whole thing a medium charcoal grey, the thread blends in perfectly on the lighter side and isn’t such a sore thumb on the darker side]

bonus: the piecing layout for that little piece of strap. the whole light gray half of the binder was made from 1/2 of one of the legs i cut off some linen suit pants to make slutty camping shorts last year and i really really didn’t want to break into any of the other three halves for this garment--i have Plans for it

overall the fit of this is incredible. it DOESNT hurt my ribs which every zip-up garment ive been able to find (and it is difficult) does due to really thick elastic at the base. it doesnt aggravate my sensory issues with the synthetic fibers that every commercial option is made of. i can walk up a hill or stairs, or go to pt, without getting too out of breath. i can eat with it tight, or loosen the front easily and without taking it off to make eating easier and less nausea-inducing. it is reversible!

best of all the lacing at the back gives the garment enough movement for me to get it on without dislocating, and the interfacing and steel rings give it structure once it’s on. the shaping comes only from fusible horsehair linen canvas and stainless steel rings like youd use for chainmail, there’s no boning at all, which makes it very quick to sew (except the eyelets, but metal grommets would be sturdy and quick provided theyre of good quality)

there’s a small amount of gaping on the outside of the shoulder strap, which i plan on fixing with a tiny tiny dart in the armpit, i want to add pockets to tuck the laces into, and i need a better lace for the back, but it’s completely wearable in time for the 90 weather next week which is all i wanted. i’ll do a reblog when it’s perfectly finished with an update on the fit but for now it is done enough 

the little ridge where it doesnt lay flat against the shoulder is most visible with just a single t shirt over it. with a flannel or a sweater, it disappears, and by itself, it’s hidden in movement

eta: after dyeing this, i relaced it a bit looser in the back and that gape mainly disappeared. ive decided to leave it in instead of smoothing it with a dart because the loose fabric gives space for my chest to expand when breathing and shapes my silhouette in a way that emphasizes my shoulders

[perotovar]

A Writing Challenge from August 1st - September 21st

"Erin, what is Frith?"

Frith, is an Old Norse term, typically used among friends and kinsmen, that would often be used in a diplomatic way to bring peace.

Or, more plainly, “a mutual agreement to avoid causing each other physical, emotional, or mental harm, and to avoid negatively affecting each other’s honor, worth, and luck.”

This is meant to be a long-lasting agreement among those that take part.

Now, I’ve spent a decent amount of time to know, in this fandom, that that could very well be wishful thinking, but I’m choosing to stay positive here. It’s no secret that there have been things happening lately that are less than stellar, to put it mildly.

But I’m not here to talk about that.

I’m here to have fun and be creative so that’s what we’re going to do!

I’ve had this idea brewing for several months, and it’s a subject matter that’s very near and dear to my heart. In my personal life, I’m a practicing Norse Pagan. For those that are unfamiliar, I like to describe it as worshiping the Old Ones. I follow the teachings of the Norse Gods.

Why am I telling you this? Well, since this is something that’s so close to me, and we’re all here as fans of one Pedro Pascal and his work, I figured why not combine the two? Initially, the goal was to write all these fics myself, but when I discovered just how exhausting and time-consuming that would be, I decided to include all of you!

I failed to do a follower milestone to thank you all and celebrate, so take this as my thank you for sticking around here and showing support to my fics and gifs.

Alright, so how is this going to work?

huge shoutout to @scenaaario and @kedsandtubesocks for all your help on this you lovely humans ♥

Another important aspect of Heathenry (Norse Paganism) is reciprocity. “Gifts given for gifts received.” So, you all wouldn’t just be giving me a bunch of fics to read. I’ve made something for those of you who will participate as well. This is an equal exchange.

I’ve paired up several of the PPCU with Norse Gods and made moodboards for each of them. I have reasons for matching them up the way I have, and I’ll go into more detail as to why later.

So, yes, this is a writing challenge at its core, but it’s also a way for me to show a little peace of myself with you all and for us all to be creative and have fun! Maybe you’ll step out of your comfort zone a little and that’s okay!

There is an expectation that something will be written/received, so if you don’t think you’ll be able to participate, that’s totally okay. There’s no pressure at all, and I appreciate any support or boosting to get to those that would like to!

Okay, enough of all that, which Gods have I chosen to match up with the Boys?

I’m glad you asked! Matching up traits and personalities was really fun, and really challenging. Nothing is a 1:1 match, but that’s okay. Nothing is supposed to be, and that’s where some of the challenge may come in.

For those that are participating in the challenge, you’ll send me an ask declaring which God/Pedro Boy you’d like to write. In return, and my part of the reciprocity, you’ll receive a moodboard to use for your fic, and a little blurb telling you a little more about the God and why I’ve chosen that character to pair them with. I’m hoping some of them will be a little obvious, but I’m aware not everyone is as familiar with the Gods as I am.

There are only 14 slots and therefore only 14 moodboards made, so once someone has been claimed, that’s it. As much as I’d love to have even more people participate, I don’t think I can make that many things lol.

If you’d still like to contribute somehow, I’m open to any questions you may have about the Gods (and maybe how the boys relate), because I’m a big ol’ nerd and love talking about this shit.

So, who’s who?

Maxwell Lord – Odin [Óðinn] (The All-Father and God of wisdom, magic, war, death, but also cunning and trickery.) claimed by @missredherring

Pero Tovar – Thor [Þórr] (God of thunder, lightning, sacred groves and trees, strength, and the protection of humankind.) claimed by @morallyinept

Max Phillips – Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos.) claimed by @qveerthe0ry

Oberyn Martell – Freyja (Goddess of love, sensuality, sex, passion, war, and magic.) claimed by @guiltyasdave

Javier Peña – Freyr (God of fertility, harvests, and peace.) claimed by @almostfoxglove

Ezra – Týr (God of victory, law, and justice.) claimed by @marisferasiop

Marcus Moreno – Frigg (Goddess of domestic life, marriage, and maternal energy.) claimed by @joelalorian

Joel Miller – Hel (Goddess of death and guide to the underworld.) claimed by @beefrobeefcal

Dieter Bravo – Bragi (God of poetry, oral traditions, and the Skaldic Poet of the Aesir.) claimed by @schnarfer

Javi Gutierrez – Baldr (God of light and purity.) claimed by @morallyinept

Dave York – Vidar [Víðarr] (The Silent God of vengeance.) claimed by @kedsandtubesocks

Din Djarin – Heimdall [Heimdallr] (Gatekeeper of Asgard, the gods’ stronghold within Valhalla. God of guardianship, vigilance, and protection.) claimed by @djarinmuse

Frankie Morales – Skadi [Skaði] (Goddess of winter, skiing, bow-hunting, and mountains.) claimed by @agentmarcuspike

Jack “Agent Whiskey” Daniels – Ægir (Brewmaster of the sea.) claimed by @lotusbxtch

extras:

Marcus Pike – Idun [Iðunn] (Goddess of eternal youth and sacred apples.) claimed by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Silva – Ymir (First being in existence and the reason for the creation of Earth.) claimed by @yopossum

Santiago Garcia – Fenrir (Most famous of all the wolves in Norse Mythology and the bringer of Ragnarok.) claimed by @for-a-longlongtime

There are no rules for your fic itself. You can write whatever and however much you want. All I ask is that some aspects of the Gods stay intact, otherwise this would just be any old writing challenge.

I wanna see you guys get creative with what the Gods offer. How are they speaking to you? What energy/vibes are you getting off of them? Run with it.

Now, I’m posting this the day before Lammas, the Pagan holiday that often takes place in the Summer, August 1st. I think it would round out the summer nicely if everything gets published around Mabon, September 21st, the holiday that celebrates the Fall equinox.

That gives everyone almost two months to write their stories. I’m hoping that’s a decent time? If it’s not, I’m not picky and typically run on Pagan Standard Time, so if it’ll take you a little longer, just let me know and it’ll probably be fine.

Thank you for sticking with my ramble, and I wish you all gọ̄der hēle (good luck)!

And remember, have fun!

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls read on ao3 | ao3 collection

Steve’s annoyed.

More than annoyed, really.

He’s supposed to be at the Munson’s, sitting between Wayne and Eddie, watching the Hoosiers play. Well, trying to watch the game, at least. Eddie has a habit of dozing off before the first quarter ends, head thunking against Steve’s shoulder so he can’t move for the rest of the game.

But no.

His mom just had to call and demand he set up their stupid Christmas tree before she and his dad get home tonight because the annual Harrington Holiday House party is this weekend, and she doesn’t have time to do it herself. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s trusting him enough to decorate the thing. He can count on one hand how many times he was allowed to hang an ornament on the statement piece in their living room.

He can’t even celebrate the decorating victory, though, because he’s still trying to assemble the goddamn thing. Nine-foot trees really aren’t meant to be set up by one person. At least, that’s what Steve’s learning as he tries to balance the next segment of the tree over his shoulder as he climbs up the ladder.

Focused on not falling, Steve doesn’t hear the front door open or the stomps of boots coming into the room. It isn’t until Eddie tuts does Steve startles, nearly toppling over.

“Woah, there big boy,” Eddie teases, reaching out to steady the ladder. “Don’t fall.”

“Don’t scare me then,” Steve snaps. It takes a moment, but he manages to get the next piece into the slot before carefully climbing down the ladder.

“Christ, someone’s feisty today,” Eddie says, hands up in surrender. “I guess it’s a good thing you bailed on me and Wayne to uh…” He glances at the half-assembled tree in the middle of the room. “What are you doing exactly?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Building a stupid Christmas tree.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Eddie asks, shaking his head. “You can’t build trees. You grow trees.”

Steve snorts. “It’s an artificial tree, Eds. My mom called as I was headed out to your place. Said I needed to get the stupid thing up and fluffed before she got home tonight because she needs a full three days to decorate the damn thing for the annual Harrington Holiday House party.”

“This thing is blasphemous!” Eddie says, circling it like a predator stalking its prey. “I thought rich people love Christmas trees. Don’t you like custom order the biggest one to show off your wealth?”

“Uh, no? My mom says real trees make too much of a mess.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie says, abandoning the tree as he stalks towards Steve. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a real tree before? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“You’re being weird,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s hands off his shoulder.

“I am not being weird. You’re being weird. You’ve never had a Christmas tree! Do you even know what they smell like? Steve, you haven’t lived until you’ve smelt a freshly cut down Christmas tree!”

“Jesus, I didn’t know you were so passionate about this,” Steve snorts.

“You think this is bad. Wait until I tell Wayne. He’s going to flip out!”

“Wayne has never flipped out in his life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a first for everything.” Eddie crosses his arms and then immediately uncrosses them, clapping his hands instead. “That’s it. You’re coming with us this year. Don’t make plans for next Friday! I’m stealing your Christmas tree virginity.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Steve groans, wrinkling his nose. “But fine, I’ll go with you. If you help me with this thing.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade-off, Stevie.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really give a shit,” Steve says, bending down for the next segment of the tree. “Now grab an end.”

Steve yelps when he feels a firm hand squeeze his ass. All it takes is one deathly glare over his shoulder for Eddie to stop cackling and get serious.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“I’m going to sue your family,” Eddie whines, collapsing on the couch a few hours later.

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve scolds before dashing off into the living room to grab a couple of beers.

“Excuse me! That thing attacked me! Multiple times! Look at the evidence,” Eddie shouts, yanking up the sleeves of his Hellfire shirt to examine a dozen or so scratch marks up and down his forearms. “And don’t even get me started on my hands! How am I supposed to play guitar, Steven!”

“I told you to wear gloves,” Steve shrugs, returning to the room. He passes Eddie the cold can of beer before sinking into the couch beside him.

“I shouldn’t need gloves because you shouldn’t need to fluff a tree! They already come fluffed because they’re not rotting away in a box all year.”

“You poor thing,” Steve playfully tuts. “Guess I can’t hold your hand now since they’re so beaten up.”

“I never said that,” Eddie squawks as he yanks Steve’s hand into his own.

They sit in silence after that. Nursing their beers as the Christmas tree stands in its makeshift glory in front of them. Steve can tell which side he fluffed and which side Eddie did. The giant gap between the top two layers is obvious, and he knows he’s going to have to climb the ladder and fix it before his mom gets home, but that’s a problem for future Steve. Right now, he wants to sit here with his boyfriend even if his boyfriend is gearing up for another faux Christmas tree rant.

“Don’t tell me your mom is one of those people who only puts those stupid decorative ball things on the tree, too.”

“What do you think?” Steve says, hiding his smile behind the can of beer.

“Jesus H. Christ!”

🎄 🎄 🎄

It takes a bit of convincing and a formal invite from Wayne, but Steve keeps up his end of their deal, joining the Munsons on their quest for the perfect Christmas tree for the trailer.

Eddie has a habit of embellishing when he tells stories, but Merrill’s farm lives up to all the hype. As done, the process of selecting and chopping down the perfect tree. Steve gets stuck being the tie-breaking vote when Wayne and Eddie end up arguing over which tree to bring home. Naturally, Eddie throws a minor fit when Steve sides with Wayne, whining that he likes him better than his own boyfriend, which has Wayne rolling his eyes.

Steve gets to make the first chop but passes the ax off quickly. He doesn’t want to impede on their tradition any more than he has. Besides, axes have never been his thing. He prefers to swing bats instead.

“See, isn’t this much better than building a tree?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulder as they stand off the side while Wayne pays.

“It definitely smells better.” Steve inhales deeply, scents of pine and hints of peppermint flooding his senses. Someone should bottle this stuff up and sell it as a cologne, he thinks. He’d definitely wear it.

“It’s easier, too.”

Steve scoffs. “Speak for yourself! You’re not the one who helped Wayne drag it all the way up here.”

Eddie laughs, eyes sparking mischievously. “Wait until you have to help him load it into the truck. That’s always the worst part.”

Steve eyes his boyfriend through squinted eyes. He ducks out of Eddie’s grasp and settles his hands on his hips. “You set me up! You just brought me here so you wouldn’t have to do manual work!”

“You wound me, Harrington,” Eddie gasps, clutching a hand over his heart as he staggers backward. “How can you think so lowly of me.”

“Because I know you, Munson,” Steve teases.

“Alright, alright, fine,” Eddie says, slinking over to Steve. “Maybe I had ulterior motives, but it's only fair after what I suffered helping you with that abomination you call a tree. At least now you’ve experienced a true Christmas tree experience.”

Steve can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as Eddie beams proudly at him.

“Ready to go, boys?” Wayne asks, rejoining them. They both nod, watching as Wayne makes his way over to the heavier side of the tree.

“You don’t have to carry it, Wayne,” Steve says, mischievous flooding his own veins. “Eddie and I will carry it to the car.”

“You bastard!”

“Hey,” Wayne scolds, swatting Eddie’s shoulder. “No swearin’ ‘round kids. I ain’t raise you like that.”

Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he watches Eddie sigh dramatically before carefully shoving Wayne away from the tree. He waits for Eddie to follow his lead, squatting down before he counts them off. On three, they hoist the tree over their shoulders and start heading back out to the car.

🎄 🎄 🎄

“So, what do you think?” Eddie asks later, passing Steve a mug full of Wayne’s signature hot chocolate. “Is it better than your tree?”

Steve knows the answer immediately, but he takes a moment. Wants to make Eddie squirm as he admires the tree in front of him. It’s not perfect. It’s a little crooked, and there are hundreds of pine needles littering the floor. The lights are bright, though, and the branches are full of homemade and sentimental ornaments that span decades. A homemade star sits on top in lieu of the traditional angel. A star, Eddie tells him, he and his mom made by themselves the year before she got sick.

It’s perfectly imperfect.

His own traditional, straight out of the pages of a Home and Garden magazine doesn’t stand a chance against this one.

“Yeah, Eds. It’s better than my tree.”

“Victory!” Eddie shouts, nearly spilling his hot chocolate all over himself.

🎄 🎄 🎄

A month later, Steve’s belly is full of the Munson Christmas feast, but instead of lazily lounging on the couch enjoying his food baby, he’s carefully taking ornaments off of the dead Christmas tree that nearly caught fire twice since he’s been here.

“I take it back,” Steve says, carefully taking an ornament off of the dead tree. “Artificial trees are better.”

“They are not!” Eddie whines, wrapping the ornaments Steve hands him in tissue paper.

“I don’t know, Eds. I’ve never had to take down a tree on Christmas before!” he grumbles, reaching for another ornament. “This sucks.”

“It’s all your fault. If you chose my tree, it would have lived for another week! I just know it.”

“Sure it would have,” Steve snorts.

“Look on the bright side, at least we have firewood for the New Year's Eve bond fire now. We can’t do that with your stupid tree.”

“Nope, because I get to use my tree again next year, and you have to buy a new one. Think that’s another point for fake trees.”

Eddie screeches, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and tugging him off the ladder and onto the couch. Despite their full stomachs and tired eyes, they wrestle and laugh as Wayne shakes his head from the doorway, a light cigarette perched between his lips.

“Cut it out, you too,” he scolds when things get more heated between them. “Need it out before it really goes up in flames.”