#needle stopper

[prettylilthingptrns]

Another day, another needle minder, lol! These babies will be going up sometime today on Etsy! Keep your eyes peeled and check out the ones currently in stock :) They double as cute magnets too ;)

All hand made by myself and many are hand drawn with colored pencils, some are printable shrink plastic designs, then sealed both front and back with UV resin to help ensure sturdiness and longevity :) Finished with a neodymium magnet to keep your needle safe!

[elenadoeslife]

knitting truly feels a little bit like magic 💕

[shelynite]

Well that's not helpful >:/

[tacit-semantics]

Being very brave and starting a (supposed.) one skein shawlette with a labelless ball of yarn inherited from my grandmother this can surely only end well

[sparklecryptid]

Once again trying on shirts/sweaters while they are on the needles is the most nerve wracking thing

[neon-lights-stardust-nights]

No haha don't strap me to a chair and perform awful experiments upon my mind and body haha what if I get hard

[spawnofvulcan-knits]

These corks are still hangin’ on!!!

Corks = good stoppers

Bought these from BeakersWorld on Etsy.

[brain-rot-central]

Would you be interested to do fanfic with Astarion getting a massage and maybe kisses ober his scars?

Scars

Tav gives Astarion a back massage. Thing is, Astarion isn't entirely used to giving up his back.

I sat on this for a long bit. Thank you for the prompt! 💗

Warnings: trauma mention, abuse mention, brief depiction of abuse

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea, love."

Astarion lay prone on his bedroll, his head tilted to the side. He's not looking at Tav necessarily, just in their general direction as sparks of anticipation jolt through his body. He eyes the bottle of oil within Tav's hands as they uncork the stopper.

"You don't always have to be the one giving, Astarion," Tav says as they pour the viscous fluid out into the palm of one hand. They place the bottle down onto the ground, reapplying the cork. "Sometimes it's nice just to take."

"Yes, but-"

"Do you want me to leave?" Tav interrupts, rubbing their palms together to warm the oil.

Astarion finally looks at Tav, furrowing his brow in doubt. "N-no, I don't. Just..." his voice trails off, gaze wandering to the flap of his tent. It ripples gently with the passing breeze. "Go easy over my back, please," he pleads. "It's... sensitive."

In more ways than one.

Tav nods, shifting closer to Astarion's form. "Of course," they agree, leaning over to plant a kiss on the back of his neck. Astarion shivers under them as their hands find the small of his back. "You let me know if it's too much, 'kay?"

With a sigh, Astarion nods, resting his face against the comforting fabric of his shirt. Tav starts slow, rubbing delicate circles into the dimples of his lower back with their thumbs. Their fingers hang over his hips, which, Astarion admits silently to himself, is oddly comforting. He imagines Tav holding him, guiding his hips to where they want him to be. Much more intimate than Astarion could have ever imagined. Pleasurable, even.

He's so used to being grabbed, pushed, and forced into positions. Hurried encounters with those who cared not for his pleasure, that it came secondary or not at all. Astarion keeps waiting for the moment where Tav hoists him up and slots him roughly against their crotch, waiting for the inevitable painful sting of being pried open without warning.

But it never comes.

Astarion can feel their crotch against the cleft of his arse, Tav straddling his hips for their own leverage, yet this position is unusually sensual. Tav's hands begin traveling up the sides of his torso and they lean further into him, pushing Astarion's hips further into the ground below him. The pressure of his center meeting the bedroll causes his arousal to stir, twitching softly to life as he haphazardly grinds his hips further into the deerskin below, chasing the sensation again and again.

Soft moans escape Astarion's lips as Tav kisses the midline of his back, applying light pressure to the muscles encircling his ribs as their hands glide over the delicate pale skin. "Is it okay if I touch them?" Tav asks quietly against his back.

His scars, they mean. They want to massage his scars.

Astarion's eyes focus again on the opening of his tent, flap blowing in the wind as another breeze blows past. When he closes his eyes, he imagines himself back in the kennels, lying on the cold stone floor beneath him in a similar position. Cazador is behind him, needle in hand, bringing the blade down hard into the vulnerable skin of his back. Astarion screams, or at least he remembers the feeling of screaming, as he relives the searing pain of his flesh being carved out. He claws at the stone floor as Cazador continues, voice failing him as the blade dances across his skin. Cazador chuckles darkly, telling Astarion revisions are to be made.

Astarion.

His head swims with nervous energy, though a small voice breaks through his concentration.

Astarion!

His eyes snap open, returning focus to his tent. Astarion becomes mildly aware of the hand over his mouth and he tries to control his labored breathing.

"Are you alright? You started screaming out of no where." Tav releases their hand from around his mouth and sits back. "Sorry, but I had to do something, lest the entire camp come running..." Tav sits back on his feet for a bit, silence passing over them both. "Did you want to stop?" they suggest. "It's okay if-"

"No, I'm fine," clarifies Astarion. "Sorry, dear. My mind was elsewhere for a moment."

"...Cazador?" Tav asks, quietly.

Astarion doesn't respond immediately. Moments pass before he slowly nods his head. He hears Tav sigh over his shoulder as they resume their place over the backs of his thighs.

"I have no sharp objects, aside from a nail or two," they say in reassurance. "All I'm trying to do is help you feel more at ease. I promise."

"I don't doubt that," Astarion admits. "This is just... different, for me." He gasps as he feels Tav's hands on his lower back again. "I... usually don't give people my back."

Their hands travel higher, and Tav feels the minute shakes of anticipation rumbling through Astarion's frame. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath and they move between his shoulder blades, tracing each indentation of the scars with their fingertips. They use the palms of their hands to place pressure on the muscles deep below, a soft moan of relief escaping Astarion as he eases into the touch.

"...I only want to make you feel good, Astarion," Tav coos above him, dragging their hands back up the length of his spine. They rub along the outlines of each scapula, digging their thumbs into hard knots of muscles. Tav circles them gently, huffing out a quick laugh as they feel the tension beginning to melt away from Astarion's frame.

His head is swimming in euphoric pleasure. His arousal has stirred back to life, but not due to lust. No, this is simply because his entire body feels good, so so good. Astarion feels himself loosening under Tav's ministrations. It dawns on him that he never gave thought to how tensely he held himself together. Another soft moan escapes his lips as Tav leans over again to kiss the back of his neck. The position pushes his half-hard cock further into the bedroll, his entire body instinctively curling upward, into Tav. He leans his head toward one side, granting them better access to his neck.

"Does it feel good?" they ask, littering chaste kissing along the side of Astarion's neck.

Astarion moans as Tav's hands run up and down the sides of his ribs again. "Y-yes," he gasps. "P-please continue."

The massage turns intimate again; Tav kissing down Astarion's back as their hands settle along his narrow hips. Astarion knows there won't be physical intimacy; he's not quite ready for that yet, but by the gods if this isn't close.

Tav works at his back for what feels like a tenday before finally sliding off. "How was that?" they ask, lightly brushing the backs of their fingers over his skin.

Astarion turns over, arousal flagging enough to not raise any uncomfortable suspicion. Though, could he blush, his face would be absolutely flushed. His eyes are heavy, his mouth hangs open. "Wonderful," he admits. "I would very much like to do that again."

Tav leans over and smiles, capturing Astarion's lips between his own. "Then again we shall."

[factorydefaultlu]

AU where there's no monsters and the Winchester's are just drifters/serial killers.

Dean helping Sam shoot up.

And instead of demon blood, Sam is addicted to heroin.

Dean taking off his belt to wrap it around Sam's bicep.

Filling the needle.

He's got the cap in his mouth.

Sam is having withdrawals.

Sam whimpering when the needle pierces his skin

The look on Sam's face when Dean pushes the syringe stopper and the drugs flood Sam's veins. It's orgasmic. Dean wants to see more of it.

Dean def gets laced shit so his baby brother stays addicted and complacent

I just really love icky Dean doing whatever he can to manipulate Sam and keep him all to himself

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Diabolical 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, extreme profanity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Billy Butcher

Summary: your neighbours has some strange friends.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The reverberation of copper ripples through the air. You nearly slip under the water as you jolt. You grip the edges of the tub and sit up. Another crash thunders and you scowl. Your peace is shattered. 

Candles, music, a book, and a steaming bath. It's a perfect night. Or it was. 

You wait and listen. Silence. You let yourself back and reach for the novel on your bath table. Another egregious cacophony has you splashing yourself with water.   

You growl and slide the table out of the way as you stand. You grab your towel as water slakes off of you. You pay no mind to the mess that puddles below each step as the thrashing continues.  

You storm across the apartment, sliding dangerously on the hardwood, and you put your eye to the peephole. The man grins, as if he can see you and shakes the box in his hands. The metal echoes again. 

How dare he? It's almost nine in the evening! You tear open the door, your hand clasped around the knot of your towel, and you snarl. 

"Must you make so much noise?" 

He cackles at you as he hugs the box of cymbals and bells. "Eh, I'm just doin' good ole Hughie a favour. He's been talkin' 'bout getting into drumming so's I say Hughie, I know a guy. Can get you everything you need." 

"I don't...care." You bluster. "Should you even have those in a box? There are bags meant for that." 

"Who cares? You just bang on the things anyhow. Well, then," he turns to the door behind him. "Seems like my pal isn't in." He drops the box and the raucous clamour makes you groan. "I'll just leave 'em here for him. Buddy that I am." He spins back to face you. "And you can get back to listening to Bach and drinking your oolong." He makes a motion which could be tipping a cup or something more heinous. "Your majesty." 

You furrow your brow and roll your eyes. "All I asked for was a bit of decency. It wasn't any sort of insult but I see to you, any thought of being kind is offensive." 

"Talkin' to me about being decent and you're stood out here in a dish towel," he scoffs. 

"I--" you look down, remembering yourself. You move to hide behind the door. "Well, you disturbed me--" 

"You are disturbed, ain't ya, sweetheart?" 

You sneer. "Fine, whatever. I'll make sure Hugh gets his drums." 

"Hugh?" He chuckles. "You are something." 

"Good night, sir." You back up and close the door. Your certain to lock it too.  

His laughter keens through and friction brushes up the other side. "It's Butcher, not sir, love." He taps and you flinch, "have yourself a good night, won't ya? Don't think of me too much." 

You huff and have a mind to open the door again. Not, that’s only what he wants. You retreat and trod back to the bathroom. The water’s tepid and the scent of the candles grows overwhelming. You shut off the music and pull the stopper. So much for relaxing. 

The tension needles across your shoulder. You blow out the wicks and snatch your book from the table. You go to your room and flip on the bedside lamp. You put the novel on your pillow and pull on a night gown.  

You recline and crack open the book. A long honk blares from outside. That’s not unusual but what is, is the successive short toots that follow, almost in a rhythm. You try to ignore it. The honks vary, long, short, soft, loud. You realise the offender is doing a rather poor job of honking out Beethoven.  

You know exactly the culprit and you won’t let him know you’re bothered. Let him waste his own energy not yours. Besides, if he had any sort of nuance, he’d realise you don’t sit around and listen to classical. You appreciate vintage music but you’re not pretentious. You simply have your tastes. Nothing wrong with that. 

You lay back and your eyes gloss over the words without reading. You may not want to give him the satisfaction but it doesn't mean it’s not working. Several rereads of the same paragraph have you fed up. You sink down and drop the book. 

You stare at the ceiling and sigh. You can’t even put on a movie or music. You won’t be able to hear it. 

As if on cue, silence. You exhale. Thank god. 

An engine rumbles and you hear it steer down the alley outside. You hear the tires crawling just below your window. Another wall of sound rises and has you nearly jumping out of your skin. Heavy metal pumps through the wall and has you gritting your teeth. 

It’s him. That imbecile. 

[elenadoeslife]

I treated myself to a set of -interchangeable- metal 3.0 knitting needles and cute pink needle stoppers in the shape of tulips 🌷

[femperor]

I've done a number of things with my HRT that any medical professional would call an unnecessary risk. I've poked myself multiple times with the same needle, looking for a spot with fewer nerve endings to do the injection. I've continued to draw estrogen from a bottle after pieces of the rubber stopper broke off and fell into it. I've used a needle that was shorter than recommended because the pharmacy gave me the wrong kind. Once, I fished a needle out of my sharps container while I was waiting for my next paycheck.

From a strictly scientific viewpoint, HRT is life-saving. We cannot find the harm that the opposition claims it does to a body, and we cannot prove the existence of the soul they claim is being tainted. The rational decision then, would be to ensure easy access to HRT and the methods of dosing them. Give trans people the option to live in the science-supported world, and to act squarely off of evidence and studies. These facts lie at odds with personally-held beliefs that are subjected onto the world. Trans people then have to navigate a world of truths and a world of lies in order to obtain whatever HRT is available to them.

The average trans person believes in the science surrounding HRT. Most also internalize the anti-trans beliefs of the world around them. When you swim in an ocean, the salt water sinks into your clothes and tries to work its way into your skin. Deny these beliefs, reject them entirely. Your skin is still wet. A better future for trans people would be to not make swimming necessary for transition. But until that day, we keep ourselves afloat.

Surrounded by water that wants to drown us, we begin relying on new beliefs, ones that are direct responses to the ocean below. Staying above water indefinitely is next to impossible; instead I found a way to breathe below the surface. The enemies of transgenderism mythologize HRT to restrict it from trans people. Trans people mythologize themselves to justify their right to access. We know the ocean exists and that we have to live in it. We fashion ourselves as sea serpents, or mermaids, or pirates cursed to continue navigating the seas long after they perished. Becoming the monsters that maps warn good honest sailors about.

And when you put this much effort into creating a self beyond the scope of documented indisputable fact, just for the ability to ask your therapist to recommend an endocrinologist or to make that grey market purchase. It's harder to follow every rule that medical experts suggest. I know my doctor's only concern is mitigating risks that have a small chance for terrible consequences. But regardless of the gills I have, I'm tired from swimming. I can't let errant , minor facts finish me off when I've gone this far fighting other people's opinions.

[heysawbones]

Earlier today, I asked Google about removing the ink from a gel pen cartridge. Google thought I meant, “how do you revive a dead gel pen?” No. See. Sometimes, when you’re using gel pens in ways they were never meant to be used, you find the ballpoint inadequate. In my case, it was too big to get into tight spots on the doll shoe I was detailing. Gel ink is water soluble. You should be able to paint with it. Right?

But how do you get it out? Is the coverage okay? Folks,

the coverage is excellent.

You can learn how to free the gel ink from its tiny prison, plus the pros and cons below the cut.

Here’s the tools I used, except the hobby/model drill. That turned out to be unnecessary. A syringe, some kind of needle OR stiff catheter of similar dimensions, and scissors will do the trick.

I cut the pen above the stopper and below the ink/air bubble. If a gel pen is old enough or you have enough patience, sometimes you can wiggle the stopper out of the bottom of a gel pen instead. If that’s an option, I’d recommend it for reasons I’ll touch on later.

The tip of a Sakura Gellyroll has two notches in the plastic where the ballpoint head is seated in the grip. I used the eye end of a fat yarn needle to wedge into that notch and loosen the tip and cartridge until I could remove them from the grip. I think you could get away without removing the tip and cartridge, but I found it easier/neater to do it this way.

This shows where I cut into the cartridge: between the end of the air bubble, and the end of the ink. The more ink your pen has, the smaller - and possibly harder to identify - this area is.

Unfortunately, my syringe was not made to be used with a needle. To compensate, I used sticky-tac to cover any air gaps - vacuum is essential to a syringe. I used artist’s tape on top of that to stabilize the connection. You probably don’t need to do this, but if you do, there you go. I bet heavily chewed bubblegum would work, too. Or clay. Or lots of things.

I really didn’t think this would work, due to bad luck with past attempts. It does work.

Here, I’m using a kolinsky sable to pick up the ink but any pointed brush meant for acrylic, watercolor, or ink should do the trick.

THE OPACITY. THE PIGMENT LOAD. THE ABILITY TO DETAIL TINY AREAS

—

PROS.

-Incredibly opaque for something water-soluble and relatively low viscosity

-high pigment load

-very smooth finish

-accessible

CONS.

-If you bought gel pens with the intent of breaking them open for the beautiful ink inside, it would be expensive - especially for decent ink like Gellyroll

-Coverage is not as even with brush as it is with rollerball. This is easy to get around, but noticeable. Build up the coat until it’s opaque and smooth. Do not allow it to dry between coats. Once you’re done, put the item away to dry for as long as you can stand. DO NOT APPLY TOP COAT BY BRUSH

-Slow-drying on many surfaces if applied heavily enough for a smooth finish, but concerningly fast-drying in the syringe. It’s also unclear if recapping the original pen and sealing the cut end will preserve the ink, or if gel ink harvesting is a one-and-done where you will need to take all you can at one time, then store it in an airtight container. I’ve stuffed the cut end of my cartridge with sticky tac and put the cartridge back in the grip/recapped the pen, but it remains to be seen if this is sufficient for storage.

-Your gel pen will never be the same again: even if the ink can be preserved in the original cartridge, breaking the vacuum causes the ink to blob out of the roller ball. There’s a real possibility that this will just leak everywhere out both ends, which is why I recommend preserving the stopper at the bottom of the grip if plausible.

CONS 2,

continued (of detailing models, etc. with gel ink generally, not specifically the brush application thereof)

- Gel ink requires a porous surface. Do not expect to put pen to plastic without primer or Mr. Super Clear. The ink will consolidate centrally (proximal to heaviest application), gapping away from edges.

-Slow-drying: this takes forever, and it is easy to ruin a finish in the meantime.

—Durability: essentially none. Wait at least a few hours after you think the gel is dry, then apply a clear coat. SPRAY ONLY. Do NOT go back over it with a wet brush, as you risk reactivating the ink and ruining all your hard work. Spray works because it is ruining the finish evenly, and therefore, not at all. Wait and then apply the top coat again. These top coats will be your durability.

[so-very-small]

do you have a tinysona?

YES I DO, WITH NEW ART OF THEM TO SHOW OFF AS WELL

their name is Jam. they/them, 26, 2 inches tall.

used to be an adventurer when they were younger, a drifter floating around. when their chronic illnesses worsened in their twenties, they settled down into borrowing from humans instead. they used to have a home in the woods made from an old teapot, which they still stay at occasionally.

they’re chronically ill. they have POTS, fibromyalgia, CVS, and a handful of other ailments (same as me!). their illnesses prompted them to learn a decent bit of medical knowledge, and they always keep a lot of medicine and first aid supplies on hand, so they love to help any other tinies who need healthcare. they also have a cane fashioned from a human’s bamboo knitting needle, for bad fatigue days.

very shy and quiet, they do not speak much at all. it takes a billion years to gain their trust, and even when you’re friends they’ll prefer sitting in silence over chatting. they could sit next to you in dead quiet for three hours and it’ll be the best time they ever had. prefers nonverbal communication over speaking. on the very rare off chance you catch them in a chatty mood, prepare to not get a word in edgewise.

has a passion for baking and fiberarts. they love to bake anything, but yeast based breads are their ultimate favorite, having spent ages perfecting the recipes at a small scale. their pumpkin concha muffins? outta this world. when the dough is rising, they spend their time knitting - clothes and socks and bags from yarn, and mats and rugs and baskets from plastic and old scrap fabric. what they don’t use is given away to any tiny friends they meet, often with a dozen muffins or a loaf of bread nestled inside.

their cloak is a big knitted square, fastened with sewing pins. like when you make a cape out of a blanket. the sewing pins have small rubber stoppers so they don’t hurt themself, but they can pop them off and use the pins as makeshift daggers. their cloak is easy to remove, and they always wear light clothing underneath, as POTS makes them overheat easily. they gotta be able to shed layers quickly.

they are two inches tall! very tiny even for a tiny. they love to wear fun platform boots stolen from dolls, in theory to make themself taller to help talk to other tinies, but they barely help. dude’s still small. on worse health days its flat slippers all the way. on good health days they prefer to dress alternative/punk, and on bad health days they dress like adam sandler with gerard way’s eyeliner.

that’s them!! they honestly exist mostly as a way to put me + g/t into my fave stories, BUT i still really love their design and lore :3

[niki-phoria]

thank you for finally making some male!reader stuff for leon! i wish more people at least used gender neutral pronouns or were open to trying to write male readers, its tough on x reader tumblr as a trans guy!

would you ever feel comfortable writing a scenario with a trans ftm reader? like leon helping them take their injections, or just general reassurance about their identity? if not, that’s cool too! thank you for the amazing food and i hope you continue writing ! <3

pairing: leon x trans male!reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 881

warnings: needles, leon giving reader a shot

includes: slightly nervous leon, i'm not on t (yet ://) so maybe this is inaccurate but i googled how to give t shots lmao, i should write trans reader more

a/n: thank you for requesting :)) i'm also trans (i constantly switch between nonbinary and demiboy as labels) so i don't mind writing reqs like this at all !! i hope you like it <33

additional note: i want more leon reqs pls i love writing for him

requests open !! read my rules first

rays of sunlight shine through your opened blinds, casting the room in a gentle glow. you stir awake at the brightness and lazily blink yourself awake for a few seconds before laying back down on your bed. leon’s arm rests around your waist to keep you in his hold. 

a tranquil silence hangs in the air. you smile as you shift a little closer to him, taking the time to admire your sleeping lover. you raise a hand up to brush a few stray blonde locks behind his ear to fully expose his face. you trail your fingertips down leon’s sharp jawline. he stirs slightly at the feeling but otherwise remains in a peaceful sleep. 

your hand gently traces along his soft skin, finally resting against his cheek. it isn’t often that leon allows you to fully admire him and his beauty. you can think of countless times when he’d shrink away from you, cheeks flushed a light pink as he playfully pushed you away or covered his face with his hands. 

leon’s eyebrows furrow slightly when you brush your thumb against his cheek. he blinks a few times as he stirs awake. he smiles, pulling you a little closer to his chest. “good morning love.” his morning voice is raspier than usual. he shifts to rest his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a peck against your skin. 

“morning,” you hum. you bring your hand up, gently raking it through his hair. leon lets out a content sigh as you twist the soft strands between your fingers. his hand ghosting against your hips slides underneath your - his - shirt to rub small circles against your bare skin. “we don’t have any plans today so we can stay in bed for as long as you want.” 

leon smiles, shifting just enough so you can lean against his chest instead. “when’s your next shot?” 

“today.” you sit up to stretch your arms out as leon watches from his position on your shared bed. “i’ve actually been thinking, and… i want you to help. if you’re okay with it, of course. i know it’s a shot and you’re not a huge fan of needles but-” 

leon cuts you off by pressing a sweet kiss against your lips. he smiles when you pull away, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. “i’d be honored to help you.” 

you pull him into a final kiss before getting out of bed with a small smile. “i’ll go get everything.” 

leon is sitting up on the edge of your bed when you return. he fidgets with his fingers for a few seconds as you everything out on your bedside table before reaching over to take his hand into yours. you squeeze it gently for reassurance. “are you sure you want to do this?” 

“yeah,” he nods. “will you talk me through this?” 

“of course,” you nod. “here.” leon takes the syringe, carefully removing it from the packaging and taking the needle cover off. “push the needle down into the rubber stopper,” you instruct. leon sets the vial down on a table as your hands hover over his to help him carefully insert it. “now flip it upside down and fill it to the line.” 

“like this?” he asks, carefully taking the medication into the syringe. 

“that’s perfect,” you smile. “then pull it out and check for air bubbles.” leon carefully flicks the side of the syringe until you nod, pulling the band of your sweatpants down to expose your thigh. you chuckle as his face flushes slightly as you reach over to grab an alcohol pad to clean the skin. 

leon remains silent as you position his hands against the middle of your thigh, angling the needle correctly. “push down in one motion.” he glances up at you for reassurance one final time. you nod, gently resting your hands on top of his. “don’t worry. you’ll do great. i know you will.”

he nods, carefully pushing the needle down and then injecting the medication in a single, smooth motion. “good. that was perfect,” you smile, removing the needle yourself and setting it aside in a designated sharps box. leon’s eyes linger on your leg as you move to sit beside him once again. 

“does it hurt?” 

“the shot? no. it feels kinda like a flu shot, but… better,” you smile. leon brushes a hand against your thigh for a second before you move to pull your sweatpants back up. you move a little closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “what are you so busy thinking about?” 

leon wraps an arm around your waist as you shift to straddle his lap. his hands ghost against your hips as he leans up to pull you into a sweet kiss. “it’s just… i’m so lucky to have you. you’re smart, and loyal, and handsome,” you cut him off with a chuckle that makes him smile before he keeps going. “you’re everything i could ever hope for in a boyfriend. i’m so in love with you.” 

you smile, tilting his head up and pulling him into another kiss. leon smiles into it, lips quirking upwards against your own. you press a final peck against his lips when you pull away. “i’m in love with you too.” 

[djeterg19]

The ForceBook brain rot is real when you buy two separate pairs of needle stoppers so you can make a set like this. I regret absolutely nothing because it's adorable.