#not the first; not the last [nines threads]

[unstablerk800]

"RK900 number 313 248 317 - 87 reporting for duty."

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader (feat. tf 141)

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders (mentioned), devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), dad!simon, mom!reader, mary shelley honorable mention, sexual tension, very light smut

⬩ author's note can not get enough of this family. this one cuts off right before mom and dad get to it but don't worry because there is definitely some gross stuff to look forward to! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 0.8k

Bedtime stories are a major event in the Riley household, and it’s all because of you.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is what the children begged you to pick for this month’s readings. Unsurprising to you, Simon had Mr. Alfie find and purchase the prettiest 1831 edition of the story he could find. And find it the butler did, earning delighted cheers from the children and a raise in his already gracious salary at your direction.

Now, here you sit with your back against Raven’s bedframe, the girl is tucked into your side while Reaper rests his head on your thigh and plays with a loose thread on your floor-length nightgown. Simon opts to lean with crossed arms at Raven’s doorframe, heart squeezing at the sight of the three of you.

The children listen with full attention and Simon doesn’t have to wonder why–you’re magnetic. Eyes bright as you read the prose with all of the elegance and charm in the world. You do the voices and make faces, pulling a few smiles from Reaper and giggles from Raven. Simon himself can’t help but grin a little, mind floating back to when you’d first started the story.

It was a few Sunday dinners ago, and your audience was slightly larger than it is now after the children had convinced Johnny, Kyle, and Price to stay a little longer that evening.

You read to everyone in the sitting room of your large residence, settled in an Oxford Red Chesterfield chair. Raven and Reaper coaxed Johnny and Kyle to sit on the floor with them while Simon and John opted for the nearest sofa and a few fingers of whisky. Even Mr. Alfie had to stop and tune in for a spell.

“She’s something…” Price whispered to Simon that night just under his breath, and it was more than just the alcohol and full belly talking. Your husband could only huff with a nod, already aware with how effortlessly you allure his closest friends.

Simon can’t help but think the same, watching you here tonight.

The children whine and beg for just a few more pages, Mama when you finish this evening’s reading. Just as they do every night. 

“Tomorrow, my loves,” you promise them, and they know not to argue any further. “Now go kick Papa goodnight.”

Reaper is the first off the mattress, Simon barely catching the nine-year-old before he tackles his father at the legs. The boy pairs his hug with a soft kick to Simon’s foot.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

Simon bends, smooching a kiss into Reaper’s forehead.

“Night, my boy,” Simon replies sweetly. “Lemme say goodnight to your sister, then I’ll be over to tuck you, alright?”

Reaper gives a fast nod, hurrying from Raven’s room and a few doors down to the other bedroom of the hall. Simon watches him scamper, turning to Raven who’s flying into his arms faster than he can blink. Letting out a surprised oof as her knee hits his stomach.

“Nighnight, Papa,” she states, voice forcing a smile into your lips. Her little arms circle around his neck and she squeezes with all her might. “I love you more than spiders, mud, and all my toys.”

You and Simon share a chuckle at your daughter’s words. Rocking her, Simon embraces her back with an exploding chest.

“I love you more than spiders, mud, and all your toys.” He releases her after one last squeeze and doesn’t let the child go until her dangling feet touch the ground once more. “Now go kiss Mama.”

Raven turns but stops. Looking back at her father, a mischievous grin brightens her face. Both you and Simon already know what’s coming. You have to cover the laugh that leaves your mouth as Raven’s little foot smacks against her father a bit harder than Reaper’s did.

Simon jerks, rubbing at the spot with a fake wince while Raven runs back towards the bed with a bubbling giggle. Jumping atop the mattress, she crawls into your open arms. Simon lingers on the two of you before retreating to go take care of Reaper.

“Do you love me more than spiders and mud and toys? Hm?”

Raven nods right away at your question, kissing your nose before rolling to snuggle over her comforter. You scoot to the edge of the bed, working diligently to make sure she’s tucked and content.

Leaving her with one final peck on the cheek, you wish Raven sweet nightmares and flick her light.

Simon finds you laying across your shared bed, arms thrown back and eyes closed. He can tell you aren’t sleeping, as you aren’t able to unless he’s alongside you.

His steps are heavy as he trails into the room, breathing deeply and finally stopping the the foot of the bed.

“I’d die for you…” Simon declares in the silence. “Kill for you, too.”

The statement flicks open your eyes, which you settle upon your husband. He studies you with a heat that has your insides fuzzing into something sweet. Slipping to the edge of the bed, you balance on your knees in front of him and sigh blissfully. Hands on your cheeks, Simon tugs you into a deep snog. Tongue swirling, he guides your head with a tender touch, eyes rolling at the taste of you.

A broken groan leaves him when you pull away, his lip trapped inbetween the rows of your teeth. After smirking up at him, Simon drags your mouth back to his and leans you backward.  You fall onto the bed in a tangled pair, Simon inhaling the gasp that leaves you when your back hits the mattress.

“You’re everything,” Simon pants out, so overwhelmed by the way you look up at him with swollen lips and darkened eyes that he has to kiss you again.

“You’re the reason I breathe.”

Kiss.

“The reason I want to breathe.”

Kiss.

“And a day alone–without you, love… that would be my death...”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nine

Eddie let Steve dry his hair after the shower. He knew Eddie understood the concept of the hair dryer, he’d felt it before and understood what it did. He’d watched Steve dry Eddie’s book after all, but practice and theory, apparently, can be very different.

Actually having the warm air pointed at Eddie’s head was not the same, and Eddie had, initially, behaved like a startled cat. It hadn’t helped that Steve had laughed so much he’d had to turn it off again and simply stand and wait for the laughter to pass.

He thought he had his shit back together but, no, one look at Eddie’s affronted face and he was gone again, actually crying tears of laughter. Eddie was much braver the second time, so they got there in the end.

They brush their teeth together, elbow to, well, more shoulder than elbow, in the mirror.

Eddie apparently has decided to just skip some steps tonight, and he has no compunction about getting straight into Steve’s bed.

Steve honestly doesn’t mind. He has genuinely slept better the last two night’s he’s spent with Eddie, and, well, he must just like the company.

There’s no breakfast this morning; Eddie is still sleeping. He’s pretty silent when he sleeps, no snoring or breathing sounds really, but Steve can feel that Eddie’s breathing just fine, considering Steve’s woken up spooning him, Eddie’s tail threaded back through Steve’s legs.

Steve has a face full of Eddie’s hair; the shampoo and conditioner routine are definitely making an improvement; Steve wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s soft, but it’s way better than the wiry mess it had been.

Steve rubs idle circles with his hand on Eddie’s tummy, and he can easily tell where the skin changes from...well, kind of human, to...kind of fish. It’s a little tougher, a little firmer.

Steve brings his hand up over what would be Eddie’s hip and back down; he thinks vaguely that he probably wouldn’t be touching like this if Eddie was equipped like a human.

Well, at least not without taking Eddie to dinner first.

Eddie shifts under Steve’s hand; waking up probably, so Steve withdraws. Except he can’t; Eddie gets Steve firmly by the wrist and puts his hand back, the message clear. When Steve doesn’t immediately move, Eddie moves Steve’s hand for him, tracing the same loop, “good, good,” Eddie tells him, “called?”

“Touch,” Steve says quietly to the back of Eddie’s head, “it’s called touch. I’m touching you.”

“Touch many many many good.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “that many goods is...perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Good good good. Many many good. The most good. All the good. Perfect.”

Eddie makes an assessing noise, thinking, “Stee perfect.”

Steve snorts a laugh, but can also feel himself blushing with it, and hides his face against Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie melts into the touch. Which, it makes sense really, doesn’t it? By the sound of it, Eddie was alone in the upside down, pretty much always fighting for his next meal, and then in that tank under Starcourt…Eddie’s probably never known a nice touch...well, ever. It makes sense he’d like it now.

Steve thinks Eddie may have actually fallen asleep again, his body is so lax and still, Steve himself snoozing a little, soothed by the hypnotic movements of his own hand, but then the phone rings and they both startle.

For a split second, Steve considers ignoring it, but he knows he can’t. Not with everything that’s happened; it could be important.

Steve sighs, sitting on the couch next to Eddie, trying to figure out what the fuck they’re going to do.

“Out?” Eddie asks again, pointing down the hall, “Eddidie not safe?”

“No, I know buddy, but you won’t be safe here either.” And fuck the pool should be drained for the winter by now, he’s going to have to do that too, before his parents get back tomorrow.

“Not safe Hawkins Indiana?” Eddie queries.

“It’s just for a few days, hopefully. I just need to figure out what to do, just let me think.”

Eddie sits quietly, plucking at the ruined bottom edge of his sweater.

Steve growls with frustration, “parents.”

“Parents?”

“Yeah buddy...uhm,” Steve gets a photo off the mantelpiece and brings it back, “this is my mum and dad.”

“Mum dad,” Eddie points, just like when he learned the kids names, “friends?”

“No. No not friends,” Eddie frowns tilting his head, “not safe?”

“Not safe for Eddie,” Steve confirms, “I’m going to have to call Hopper.”

“Grass Hopper?” Eddie immediately perks up. He’d followed one across the lawn when the weather was still warmer, and the memory has obviously stuck.

“No, different Hopper,” but Steve can’t help but smile.

Eddie perks up when the doorbell rings, “Hopper? Kids? Birdidie?”

“It’s Hopper, Buddy.”

Steve goes and gets the door, only when he opens it, he's greeted by Joyce and Hopper, “Oh. Hi, Joyce, I wasn’t, uhm, expecting you.”

“You have a mermaid from The Upside Down living in your pool and you think my boys didn’t tell me? After everything?”

“Right,” Steve says, backing up to let them both in, “so you knew too?”

“She rang me when Jon and Will confessed.”

“Right, no wonder you didn’t sound surprised.”

“Oh no,” Hopper takes off his coat, “I already knew, El told me the night Starcourt burned down.”

“Right,” Steve sighs, “of course.”

Hopper helps himself to a beer, eyeing the picture on the fridge, “Eddie drew it,” Steve tells him.

“Huh.”

Eddie sits patiently on the couch. Hopper eyes him like he might sprout tentacles any second, but Joyce says, “Hi Eddie, how are you?” In her kindest most motherly voice, and Steve knows he’s already won Joyce over without even doing anything.

“Hi. Good,” Eddie replies, and watching Eddie engage in conversation with a total stranger, even if it is only a few words, fills him with pride.

“Eddie, this is Joyce, and Hopper.”

“Joyce. Hopper.” He slurs a little over Joyce, but it’s more than recognizable.

“Joyce is Will and Jon’s mom. Hopper is El’s dad.”

Eddie frowns, and Steve recognizes Eddie’s processing face immediately, Eddie shakes his head, pointing at the mantle, “mom, dad.”

“Yeah, they’re my,” Steve taps his own chest, “mom and dad. Hopper is Els dad. Joyce is Wills mom.”

Steve almost sees the light bulb moment, when it clicks for Eddie what Steve means, “book,” Eddie leans over, retrieving his now really rather worn encyclopedia from amongst his stack of work books on the coffee table.

Hopper’s watching him like he might suddenly become a bomb that needs diffusing, but Joyce is learning forward in her chair, eyes kind and focused, hands clasped, clearly enamored of Eddie and what he’s doing.

“Stee?”

“Yeah Buddy?”

Eddie has the book open, and Steve leans over to look. It’s a page about frogs. The picture shows artfully drawn frogspawn, then tadpoles, then something Steve is just now learning is called a ‘froglet’, which is just basically a tiny frog with a tadpole tail, and then the final arrow points to a fully fledged frog.

Eddie points to the tadpoles, “El, Will, Stee,” and then he points to the big frog, “Hopper. Joyce. Mom. Dad.”

“Yeah Buddy, that’s right! You got it,” Eddie grins big and proud, finally figuring it out.

“Oh wow, he’s so clever, could he talk at all, when he first got here?”

“No. He didn’t understand anything, really.”

“Steve that’s so impressive, for him to come this far in, well, weeks, really, is amazing.”

And it has been pushing a couple of months, really, but yeah, Steve gets what Joyce means.

Eddie eyes Hopper and his drink, “Stee. Not later.”

It takes Steve a second, but he gets there, “no, but we could have later now.”

Eddie nods, so Steve goes and gets a beer. Both Hopper’s eyebrows are in his hairline, “you let him drink beer?”

“We only share one,” Steve says, a little defensively.

Eddie grasped the idea of going somewhere in the car really fast. That part was easy. Explaining that the tent needed to come down? Not so much.

Joyce and Hopper have gone again, Hopper with the promise of rearranging the cabin a little with El, and then getting Eddie appropriate groceries. Hopefully it’s only for a couple of days, but Steve has no idea with his parents.

He didn’t want to just send Eddie off with a stranger, even if it is Hopper, so he agreed to bring Eddie over this evening, after he set the pool draining and removed all traces of Eddie from the house.

He wanted to just put Eddie’s things in the bottom of his closet, show Eddie that he wasn’t getting rid of anything. That it would all be there for him when he gets back. Even the tent can be folded and squirreled away in the garage; even if Steve is already dreading putting the thing back up again.

Eddie had packed a bag with no problem, and then watched out of the window as Steve had put it in the car. There wasn’t much he wanted; his book and a coloring book, his walkie (with fresh batteries), some notebooks, his four jerseys and some pencils. His toothbrush.

Steve felt a little bad that Eddie hadn’t somehow accumulated more stuff, but Eddie didn’t seem fussed about it.

He seems fussed about this though, where he’s planted himself squarely in the mouth of the tent and just...won’t move.

He has his hands on what must be a vague approximation of where his hips would be, and Steve figures he’s done that to himself; there’s only one person Eddie could have picked that up from, and it’s him.

“Buddy,” Steve sighs, “we have to go to Hopper’s, okay? So I will put the tent back as soon as I can.”

“No.”

Steve gets up, goes and gets a box from the garage and brings it back. Eddie has stuck his head out to watch Steve, but otherwise hasn’t moved, “look, you can pack it yourself, okay? It’ll be safe, I promise. But we have to do this. No tent. Tent bad for Steve.”

“Why?”

Steve closes his eyes for a second, he really, truly, hates the ‘why?’

“Because...my dad he...he won’t like it. And it’ll be...bad.”

Steve doesn’t know how to explain that the house has to be exactly as they left it, even though the only come back for four weeks a year, if that.

“Bad?”

Steve nods, “dad might...be angry,” Eddie’s frown deepens, “he might...tell Steve bad.”

Eddie frowns, wrestling with the concept, “tell ow?”

“Yeah. Yeah probably,” Steve admits, even though he really doesn’t want to.

Eddie relents, backing up into the tent. He looks unhappy though, as he starts handing Steve things. Two folded towels; Steve replaces these periodically when Eddie brings him damp ones and asks for fresh ones. The slinky. The rubber duck. The Rubik's cube.

Eddie’s bucket, filled with short bits of twig, pine cones and tufts of dried grass, things that may have been flowers at some point.

An antler. Which Steve just, honestly, stares at for a minute, “where did you find this Buddy?”

Eddie points, “tree.”

“Right,” and Steve’s left wondering just how far Eddie goes when Steve’s not here. A delicate, perfectly clean, bird skull follows immediately after, and Steve decides to not even ask. He nestles it carefully in the bucket.

The ground mats follow, and then Steve watches as Eddie reaches up. He frees something from the middle pole, the one that runs across the top of the tent. A necklace, shining silver. Four rings follow, still tangled with the long stems of dried grass Eddie had used to fix them up there. Steve recognizes it all immediately; Eddie’s been in his parents room.

More specifically, his mothers jewellery box. Eddie looks so dejected, so guilty, “buddy, it’s okay, but I have to put these back. You know that, right?”

“In?” Eddie asks, pointing to the house.

“Yeah buddy but...you can have them back, after, okay?” Steve carefully slips Eddie’s treasure into his pocket.

Part Eleven

[getosbigballsack]

Ceo Husband Gojo Satoru x Stay at home wife Reader-chan

Random thought but just imagine foreplay with your husband Gojo Satoru before sex. It’s not unusual for you to engage in foreplay with your husband Gojo. But there’s just something so different about today, because here he is whispering against your skin, “I want to see you play with yourself, doll.” 

“Satoru… honey, I’ve… It's been a while since I… I,” you stuttered, trying to find the words to say, but you couldn’t, not when his hot wet lips and tongue harshly sucked against your skin, forming of his many, MANY love bites.

“That’s fine, we’ll do it together,” he whispered. “But first, grab my cock and play with it a little.” And who were you to deny your husband of such sweet pleasure. Your smaller delicate hand wrapped around his shaft, your fingers not even close to touching with how massive your husband is. He never ceases to amaze you with the size of his cock, even though you’ve been with him for almost nine years. 

Slowly, you glided your hand up and down his shaft, feeling as the skin of his cock moved with every gentle stroke. You could feel the bump of his prominent veins rubbing against your palm, the tip of his cock leaking whenever you pressed your thumb against the slit. As you continued to stroke his massive cock, felt his hand gently wrapping around your hand. “Doll, look at me,” he whispered against your skin once more before pulling away and watching as you slowly turned to look at him. “You feel that, do you feel how much my cock is leaking and twitching to be inside of you.” 

“Yes… you’re leaking so much,” you whispered back at him, grunting softly when he began to guide your movements with his hand, pumping his cock a bit faster. He began moaning, his eyes boring into yours, never breaking contact. Oh no, he wanted you to see what you do to him as he used both yours and his hand to get off. 

“Satoru, baby,” You called out to him, eyebrows knitting together as you watched as his plump kiss swollen lips slowly parted to release his whining, yet masculine moans. “Kiss me please.”

“No… not ugh fuck! Not yet. I want to look into your eyes when I cum,” he muttered between staggered breaths. He’s slowly falling before you, you like he’s done many times before. “Fuck, baby… Y/N I’m about to fucking cum,” he grunts, his hand moving your even faster up and down his shaft. His legs that were at either side of your legs began trembling, cock twitching violently in both your hands until thick ropes of cum spurted from the tip and onto your hands. 

As breathlessly as he is, he finally leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, slowly moving with yours. Your mind went into a haze as he deepened the kiss, your wet tongues slowly wrapping around each other while he removed both your hands from around his cock, smearing his cum all over your nipples, your tummy, moving all the way down as he thread his fingers between yours until both hands were on your wet cunt. 

“Go on doll. It’s your turn now, touch yourself,” he whispered against your lips as he pressed yours and his middle finger on your clit. Soft whimpers escaped your lips, feeling your own clit throb beneath your finger as Gojo guided the tip to move in slowly tantalising circles . It’s been exactly eight years since your last masturbation. So this is all foreign to you now. 

“Such a wet pussy,” Gojo groaned, feeling a bit of arousal coating his finger with every stroke of your clit. 

“My hus… ugh Satoru, this is weird, but… it feels good,” you cried out, finally breaking away from his lips to look down between your legs to watch as your finger played with your clit before your husband. 

A smirk fell upon his lips, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he watched both yours and his finger soaked themselves a bit more with your clear sticky arousal, as he slowly massaged your clit. You gasped, feeling the nub tremble at your touch, your pussy becoming more aware, more sensitive from each gentle stroke. 

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, doll,” He whispered as he leaned forward to capture your lips once more, greedily devouring and swallowing all your delicious whimpers and cries of pleasure. 

Slowly he moved your fingers from your clit to push digits inside your clenching wall. Yet again you pulled away from his lips, another moan erupting from the sudden action. “Ugh! Mhm… God… that feels… feels.”

“I know, your pussy feels good around our fingers, baby girl,” he whispered, slowly pumping in and out of your hole, watching as more clear liquid dripped from your entrance a clear indicator of how fucking turned on you were at that current moment. 

“Satoru… Baby please,” you cried out for more, legs twitching slightly as he sank both your fingers inside your cunt. Your hips buck slightly, slowly rotating to help him penetrate you even further. 

“Oh, so desperate, doll. Wanna put another finger in?” he asked and quickly you shook your head yes without even thinking. Not until his index finger tangled itself with yours, coating themselves with your love juices and the next thing you know he’s not sinking four fingers inside your cunt. 

Your body began trembling, hips bucking yet again and yours rolling to the back of your head, feeling your pussy burn from the four fingers that were plunging in and out, in and out at such a teasing yet pleasurable pace and stretching the walls of your tight cunt.

This is not what you expected when he suggested that you masturbated in front of him. It was becoming too much for you, too overwhelming but at the same time, you wanted more and more, because you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. 

“Such slutty noise your pussy is making,” he groaned. 

You whimpered, getting more turned on at the sound of both of your fingers messing around inside your pussy. “It hurts… but it feels so good Satoru baby… Give me MORE! I want ugh more,” you moaned, voice cracking in process. 

And he smirked, curling both your fingers as he plunged deeper, fingers pushing against your g-spot and you could feel the pressure building up, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. Desperate for the release that was approaching, your unoccupied hand found his thighs and you dug your nails within his skin. 

Your eyes rolled back once more, fresh tears wetting your flustered. You’re breathing rapidly, the heat in your tummy increases and just as you were about to have the orgasm of your life, your husband yanked yours and his fingers from your cunt, ruining your orgasm. 

But not for too long though, because just as you were about to complain and banish him from the bedroom, he was already laying down flat on his back and his hand on your waist quickly mandhanding you until your pussy was hovering over his mouth. 

“Sit,” he said and who are you to disobey? You held onto the bed head, slowly sitting your dripping pussy on his open leaking mouth. 

“Hgh shit,” you moaned, feeling his tongue lapping and sucking harshly at your folds, desperately trying to get you to the point of orgasm once more. “Fuck- Fuck,” you groaned yet again, feeling that heat you felt before building up once again. Slurping, sucking the wet noise of his mouth on your cunt, and the sounds of your breathless moans filled the room. 

“Mhm, fucking delicous,” he mumbled against your pussy lips, moving his hand from your waist to grip and spread your ass cheeks. “Come on doll, ride my face. I know you want to. I’m even gonna stick my tongue out for you.”

And oh you did, quickly grabbing onto his hair to keep his head still, then you lifted your hips, then slowly sank back down on his waiting tongue, feeling the wet hot muscle parting your fold and sinking into your cunt. You started riding his face, moving up and down and in circular motions, all while his tongue fiddled with your clit or deliciously licked at your clenching pussy ways. 

Your back arch, legs twitching once more, “I’m about to cum, I’m about to fucking cum… oh god, oh god. Satoru baby I can’t I can’t,” you cried out while still moving your hips, but not without your husband holding on your ass cheeks, guiding your hips. 

“Let’s go baby, go on squirt on my fucking face,” he said, eyes gleaming up at you as he watched as you turned putty above him. He gonna have so much fun, fucking your sensitive, stretched out and disgustingly wet pussy when he’s done with your here. 

“I’m cumming… Imma cu,” your voice got caught in your throat, went stiff, yet they’re slightly trembling as your pussy contracts and bursts clear liquid all over your husband’s face. You couldn’t move, couldn’t stop the following damp from soaking his face. 

It’s not like he minded, at all he swallowed every bit of liquid that entered his mouth, no matter the taste or what it was. 

Anyways, after you were done squirting all over his face, you’re surprised to see that you are already on your back, leg folded onto your chest and Gojo heavy cock beating at your sensitive pussy. 

“You gonna let me sink in?”

[thedevilrisen]

Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

[sunshineandrosesnoraincamemyway]

thinking today about how much I love literally all fiber arts. I am hopeless at almost every other kind of art, but as soon as there is thread, yarn, or string I can figure it out fairly quickly.

I learned how to knit when i was eight, started sewing at nine, my dad taught me rock climbing knots around that age, I figured out from a book how to make friendship bracelets, I've made my own drop spindle to make yarn with, and more recently I've picked up visible mending. I've learned embroidery through fixing my overalls, and this year I've learned how to darn and how to do sashiko (which I did for the first time today). After years of being unable to crochet I finally figured it out last night and made seven granny squares in just a few hours.

I want to learn every fiber art that I can. I want to quilt, I want to use a spinning wheel, I want to weave, I want to learn tatting, I want to learn how to weave a basket, I want to learn them all. If I could travel through time and meet anyone in the Bible, high on my list are the craftsmen who made the Tabernacle.

I want to travel the world and learn the fiber arts of every culture, from the gorgeous Mayan weaving in Guatemala, to the stunning batik of Java, to Kente in Ghana. I want to sit at the feet of experienced men and women and watch them do their craft expertly and learn from them.

Of every art form I've seen, it's fiber arts that tug most at my heartstrings.

[cow-smells]

Decisions | Vinsmoke Sanji / Roronoa Zoro x reader

Summary: You and Sanji are friends. Just like you're friends with Zoro. When a misunderstanding pushes emotions to a boiling point, you're put on the spot to make a tough decision - who really is the man for you?

Word count: 1100

Warnings: none

A/n: this is going to be a choose-your-destiny type thing, where you can choose who you want to end up with! this first part is the prequel to that ~

you chose: Zoro , Sanji

Read on AO3

“Here, like this.”

Sanji took to standing behind you, wrapping his arms around you to place his hands on yours, guiding you through the proper motions to chop a carrot as evenly as he did. You couldn’t help but notice how his biceps flexed against your own, how he smelled of the bath he took this morning, the light caress of his breath on your neck. It was nearly overwhelming. You had to hyperfocus on the task in front of you so to not zone out and chop off a finger.

The carrots now chopped, Sanji’s excuse to wrap himself around you was gone. Reluctantly, he took a step back; you weren’t sure if the sudden coldness you were feeling was disappointment at his lack of proximity.

“Okay,” he started, his voice a little shaken; you wondered – was that because of you? “breakfast’s about as good as done. Do you want to call everyone in?”

“Sure,” you agreed, earning yourself one of Sanji’s beautiful, deep-dimpled smiles.

Gathering the crew for breakfast was rarely a hassle; you were often tasked with the mission after helping Sanji prep breakfast, and so, you already knew everyone’s routines and where to find them. Luffy was usually nearby the kitchen somewhere, ready to pounce on breakfast the moment Sanji permitted; Nami could be found on deck, drawing maps of where you’ve been; Usopp was a bit less predictable, but he’d usually find you as you were making the rounds. And then there was Zoro – which, you learned, was not a morning person.

While Sanji was up at the crack of dawn, already dressed to the nines and on his feet working in the kitchen, Zoro would sleep in until forced out of bed. They really were polar opposites.

This morning was no different; you knocked twice on Zoro’s door before letting yourself in. You smiled at the sight of his sleeping form, splayed across the bed, limbs tangled in his sheets – so unlike the proper way he held himself during his waking hours.

Perching yourself on the side of the bed, you lay a hand on Zoro’s shoulder. He opted to sleep on his stomach, and you couldn’t help but be appreciative of the sight of his muscular back, shaped by the hours of training he put in daily. “Zoro,” you called calmly, caressing his upper back in what you believed to be a friendly manner. “Hey, it��s time for breakfast.”

Zoro mumbled incoherently in to his pillow before shifting to throw an arm around you, his eyes still shut peacefully. “Zoro,” you laughed, being tilted on to him. “come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Finally, Zoro responded. “Mm. Sleep better.”

“Better than Sanji’s cooking?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned. You should have seen that coming. After a short pause, Zoro opened an eye, taking you in. “Did you cook?”

“I helped.”

“Fine.” With that, Zoro threw off the sheet that was covering him, hopping out of bed in surprising speed. While he’d usually sleep in trousers, last night was hotter than usual, and he seemed to opt against them today.

“Sorry,” you apologize, seeing Zoro in nothing but his boxers. You stood up to make your way out of the room when Zoro interjected, “What’s the rush? I’ll walk with you,” as he pulled on a pair of pants. He grabbed a button-up and followed you out of his room, threading an arm in to his shirt.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you came face to face with Usopp. You could see from the way he was looking at you two, just what he was thinking. You both were leaving his room quietly early in the morning, Zoro being half undressed. Usopp’s gaze jumped between you and Zoro, his mouth falling slightly open, trying to think of how to express himself.

Zoro, however, didn’t give him the opportunity. “Usopp.” Zoro greeted sternly. Zoro then placed a hand on your lower back, maneuvering you to keep walking, leaving a confused, suspicious Usopp behind.

Usopp was the last to join you all for breakfast. When he had finally arrived, the expression he wore was one of slight terror, or maybe just pure disbelief; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the crew. Usopp took his place sitting opposite Nami, who wasn’t afraid to just ask – “Usopp. What’s up with your face?”

Usopp, reluctant to vocalize at this place and time, opted for giving Nami a wide-eyed look before raising his brows and shifting his eyeline between you and Zoro.

If that was meant to be a discreet message from himself to Nami, it failed, because even your oblivious captain had picked up on the cue – “What’s going on with y/n and Zoro?”

You could see Sanji tense visibly, his eyes growing wide. Zoro, however, seemed completely unbothered.

You could see the panic rise on Usopp before he blurted out, “Zoro and y/n are sleeping together!”

You, Luffy and Nami all shout – “What?!” to varying degrees of emotion. Strangely, Zoro doesn’t protest.

Then, a chair falls back to the floor. Sanji was on his feet, his hands fisted. You knew him well enough to know how mad he was just from the way he held himself.

“No.” Sanji said, his voice almost a growl. Slowly, he picked up his gaze from the floor to Zoro. “This… This is the one thing, I refuse to lose to you. I won’t let you have her.”

“Sit down, cook. This doesn’t regard you.” How Zoro could be so unbothered right now, you had no idea. Why wasn’t he clearing things up? Was he – was he okay with the others thinking you were together?

You could see Sanji flaring up – there was a fight about to break out, you were certain about it. “Sanji, I literally spent all morning with you.”

Instantly, Sanji’s rage melted away. Sanji made his way to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to him. “That’s right. I shouldn’t be listening to this nonsense when I know I’m the first person you see when you wake up.”

Zoro’s brow twitched at that. “What are you saying, cook?”

Looking more smug than need be, Sanji replied, “What do you think, mosshead?”

“Enough with this already!” Nami yelled, far too tired with the duo’s one-upmanship. “You’re talking about a real person here, not a toy. Ever think to ask her how she feels, what she wants?”

“Yeah, y/n.” Zoro stood, and the look he was giving you could set you ablaze. Sanji’s arms around you tightened. “What do you want?”

you chose: Zoro , Sanji

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Nine

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings: smut! P in v! Oral, female receiving

Mafia AU

1.4K

Series Masterlist

His mums place wasn't what she was expecting. She didn't know what she expected from Lando, but it wasn't this. He parked outside of the little apartment block on the outskirts of town and opened the door for her.

"This is your moms place?" She asked as she took Lando's hand and climbed out of the car.

She kept a hold of his hand as he walked over to the apartment. "Nobody knows about this place," he said as he took her up the stairs. "I think my mom knew she was going to die when she did. She left the keys for me for my sixteenth birthday."

He came to the door, apartment 105 on the first floor, and pushed it open.

It was... gorgeous. The pictures on the wall were of baby Lando and a woman. There were no baby pictures of his sister, but that made sense. The living room was tiny, with a small, L-shaped sofa pushed up against the wall. On the floor in front of it was a cream, shaggy rug, with a circular coffee table on the top. Opposite was a television.

Everything was covered in dust.

"I don't get time to come here much, now," Lando answered as she took a moment to explore. "It's the only thing I have left of hers."

He walked over to the fridge and pulled out two cans of beer. Lando sat himself on the sofa and turned on the television. It was the newest thing in the apartment, something he had bought after the old one packed up.

At last, she came and sat beside him. She tucked herself against his side and took the beer he offered her. "How did she die?" She asked as she cracked open the can.

Lando sucked in a breath. "I don't remember much about her," he confessed. "And my dad doesn't much speak about her. The records I've looked through say nothing about her getting sick, but nobody will tell me what actually happened."

She cuddled into him and sipped her beer. "Tell me about your step mother," she muttered.

Before he answered her, Lando pulled her into his lap. She placed her beer down and wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands settled on her hips. "My step mother was a vicious bitch," he said with a laugh. "She was a great mum to me, but she was terrifying. Her main priority was taking care of my sister. Everything I know, she taught me." Guns, fighting, all of that. But Lando wasn't ready to tell her that. "Everyone that came in and out of our house was terrified of her."

"How did she die?" She asked, but Lando shook his head.

"That's a story for another day," he said and kissed her. "Should we order a pizza?"

They stayed on the sofa, eating pizza and drinking beer as they watched movie after movie.

Halfway through the third movie, she yawn and stretched her limbs up. "Are we sleeping here?" She asked sweetly, innocently, and Lando nodded his head. "Perfect," she whispered as she climbed off of his lap.

Lando watched her move across the apartment, his apartment. It wasn't owned by his father or the Norris family. It was his. And she was in it.

Her hips swayed as she moved. Before she could round the corner and disappear into his bedroom, she pulled her shirt over her head.

It landed in his lap.

Within a second he was jumping from the sofa and racing after her.

When he got there she was laying on his bed in nothing but her pyjama pants. Lando let out a low whistle as he looked at her. He'd been with plenty of women in his life, but none of them were her.

"Fuck," he hissed as she looked at her. "You really are something." He climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her slowly, completely ignoring her breasts.

She whined against his lips, threading her fingers through his hair. Lando rolled his hips against hers and she pulled her lips away from his to cry out.

She'd been wanting this, just as much as Lando had, since the wedding. "Please tell me you've got a condom," she whispered and Lando reached into the bedside drawers, pulling out a box of condoms.

She grabbed his face and pulled him down to kiss her.

He kissed her cheek and down her neck. Lando stopped to mark her up, to leave dark, purple bruises on her skin. She whined and moaned, tugging at his hair. He was loving every second of it.

Finally, he moved down to her breasts. She arched her back towards him as his thumb toyed with her right nipple, his lips wrapping around the left. "Fuck," she hissed, eyes squeezing shut as he played with her. "Lan."

He pulled away from her and reached up to quickly kiss her lips. When he pulled away, he grabbed hold of her pyjama pants and underwear and pulled them down her legs.

"Holy shit," he said as he dropped them to the floor. "You're fucking soaked."

"Jeez, I wonder why," she muttered with a grin as she parted her legs.

Lando touched her, gingerly parting her lips with his fingers. His breath hitched as he looked at her. He ran his fingers through her folds, gathering up her wetness and placing his finger in his mouth.

He released it with a pop and stroked over her hip. "I can't wait to get my mouth on you," he whispered, staring at her.

She looked down at him with adoration in his eyes. "Do it then."

Lando dove in. He pulled her towards him and pressed his face to her cunt. His lips sucked at her clit as he gripped her legs. Holding her open. The moan she let out echoed around the apartment. "Shit!" She cried, gripping the sheets. "Fuck, Lan." She bucked her hips against his face, but he held her still, used his tongue to bring her pleasure.

When he hummed against her, she grabbed his hair and bucked her hips towards his face.

Lando couldn't hold her for that one. He allowed her to move against him, his nose bumping her clit.

When her legs began shaking, Lando pulled away. "Pass me a condom," he said as he climbed back up her body and kissed her.

She could taste herself on him as his tongue danced into her mouth. Blindly she reached for the box of condoms and pulled out a square, blue wrapper.

He ripped it open and rolled it over his rock. "Next time, I want you to ride my face," he whispered as he lined himself up.

He kissed her as he slowly entered her. Inch by inch he pushed himself into her, his lips against her own. He didn't pull away until she did, throwing her head back as she moaned.

His movement were slow and gentle. If he wasn't kissing her, his forehead was against her own as he moved her hips. With how slow it was, Lando was determined to draw it out, to draw every little noise from her. It was music to his ears. If he could have, he would have listened to it on repeat for the rest of his life.

She locked her legs around him, her chest rapidly rising and falling as Lando brought her closer and closer to her orgasm. He buried his face in her neck, leaving a mirroring bruise on the side of her neck that had none.

She came, squeezing around him as a little cry left her lips. "That's it," Lando whispered against her neck. "That's it."

With just a few more thrusts he came inside of the condom. Immediately, Lando pulled out. He quickly pulled off the condom and dropped it in the bin, returning to the bed beside her.

Her breathing still heavy, she grabbed Lando's hand and brought it up to her lips. "That was," she began through heavy breaths. Lando grabbed her and pulled her close, wrapping his body around her. "Wow."

Lando squeezed her. "Something you'd wanna do again?"

"Definitely."

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[etclouie]

kinktober day nine - breeding kink 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 summary: after visiting your family with your boyfriend, he can’t help but want to start your own family together (Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, smut with almost no plot, poorly written smut, reader and oscar have had the baby talk before (but it���s not explicitly mentioned here), mentioned that reader visits family and cares for a cousins baby (briefly), oscar calls reader princess, reader tells oscar to get her pregnant, lmk if i missed any

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 word count: 554

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 a/n: oscar is the definition of having a breeding kink imo 

prev day | next day kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

you’d recently visited your family with Oscar, finally meeting one of your cousins new babies and having held the small child most of your stay; it had Oscar’s mind reeling with thoughts. 

so when you got back to his place, and he had you sprawled out below him again, he had only one thing on his mind. 

starting a family with you. 

deep down, he knew that’s what he wanted for a little while now, but the sight of your holding your cousins baby and the way you cared for them, it clarified everything for him. 

the way you were moaning beneath him, and scratching across his back had him plummeting closer to his release already. 

his lips pressed against your jaw, nipping across the skin as his hips continued against you. the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, mixed with your moans. both sounds music to his ears. 

the soft gold of his chain dangling from around his neck and sitting flush against your exposed chest, the cold pendant making a shiver run down your spine and your walls flutter around him. 

“fuck, princess. wanna get you pregnant, please?”

his lips pressed against the shell of your ear while his voice fell deeper, a rigid groan falling from his lips as your walls fluttered tighter around him. 

dropping his head to your shoulder as his thrusts started to grow sloppy, continuing to scratch across his back while tilting your head to whisper into his ear. 

“get me pregnant Osc”

another groan fell from his lips, needier this time. his cock throbbing inside you and his arms bracing himself around your head, his forehead resting against yours and eyes locking with yours. 

smiling softly up at him and nodding in silent approval before he could even murmur out his next words, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips and his hips stuttering again. 

“need you to cum first, shit- please sweetheart. cum f’me and i’ll fill you up”

he was desperate, hanging on by a thread and putting off his climax to push you over the edge first.

his body shifting to move his left hand between your bodies, the pad of his thumb pressing tight circles against your clit and pulling moans from deep in your chest. mouth hung agape and cunt gripping him tighter, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and holding him against you. 

the coil in your belly tightening before snapping with another sloppy thrust of his hips, cumming with a cry of his name as your walls spasmed around him.

“fuck, there we go. that’s my girl. gonna fill you up, get you pregnant, make sure it sticks”

he groaned out, words mushing together and his face burying into the crook of your neck. legs spread loosely as he tumbled over the edge after you, his moans needy and desperate while he pumped you full of his cum. spurt after spurt of white warmth coating your walls, while his body slumped flush against yours. 

his kisses softer in comparison to his previous thrusts, stilling inside you as you milked him for every last drop. hearing him mumble out against your sweat slicked skin, and tilting your head to meet his lust filled gaze. 

“gonna keep you in this bed till it takes, ya hear?”

⋆˚࿔ reblogs are highly appreciated 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[hallowpen]

This post is going to be a combination of The Loyal Pin Episodes 5 and 6, as I was unable to post for episode five due to my travel schedule.

Let's start off with the two key highlights from Episode 5...

หมูสร่ง (pronounced 'muu sarong') is a Thai dish made of pork meatballs wrapped in egg noodles that are fried until golden and crispy. For this reason, the dish is literally translated as "Pork wrapped in Golden Threads". It is usually served with a plum dipping sauce.

The Thai name for the series is ปิ่นภักดิ์ ('Pin Phak'). ปิ่น serves as Khun Pin's nickname... but is also Thai for "hairpin". A tradition born from the Lanna Kingdom (��าณาจักรล้านนา), nobles and high-ranking officials would purchase hairpins of gold, silver, or brass to wear as a social status symbol of their wealth. The gift of a hairpin (usually a gift given from a suitor to their potential bride) would symbolize one's promise to care for its intended wearer. Hairpins are associated with the belief that they will help to preserve a couple's love and prevent it from fading over time. They are, therefore, representative of the true and lasting connection between Anil and Pin.

If you managed to survive Episode 6, let's discuss....

การซักผ้าด้วยเครื่องหอม - The process of washing clothes in fragrant water is pretty straightforward. A combination of herbs, spices, and florals are added to boiling water to create a natural detergent. The chosen additives can aid in stain and odor removal, reducing wrinkles, and preserving the color of the garments. The particular ingredients chosen in the series were 1) ลูกซัดคั่ว (roasted fenugreek seeds) - Also known as methi seeds, they smell and taste like maple syrup 2) ชะลูด (dried alyxia) - A climbing flowering plant that has a sweet and light fragrance, described to smell like honey 3) ใบเตย (pandan leaves) - A tropical plant whose soft aroma is described as having hints of rose, almond, and vanilla.

Thai rubies (พลอยสีทับทิม) are extremely rare and highly coveted, as they are far scarcer than diamonds. The rubies are not only admired for their beauty, but are known in Thai culture as one of the nine sacred gemstones. They are believed to hold auspicious meanings, and to bring long-lasting love to their wearer. Owning and wearing jewelry that features this incredibly valued gemstone is seen as a status symbol for royalty. Princess Alisa gifting these jewels to Pin for her birthday means she holds Pin in very high regard (it was hinted in the first episode that Alisa views Pin as a second daughter).

There are a few conversations and quotes from this episode that I would like to highlight.

The first is the conversation between Pin and Princess Patt:

"Can Princess Anil follow in Princess Patt's footsteps and stay unmarried?" "That would be quite unlikely, Lady Pin. [...] Savettavarit is a very famous, wealthy, and well-respectable family. Princess Anil will eventually have to get married. You will also have to get married as well, Lady Pin. I already have some prospects in mind."

There are certain expectations that women of royalty and nobility cannot escape from. The most prominent of which is to be married and have natural born children to preserve the line of succession. It is also important to note that these potential marriage prospects are always chosen by a daughter's parents...with the daughter having little to no say over the decision. Which leads me right into the next scene... when Anil is talking to Prik about having to leave for England sooner than she expected:

"I did not choose to do this, Prik."

Such a short and quick line... that holds so much meaning. Anil is a highly ranked princess yet, even she, must submit to the whims of her elder brother. Women hardly hold a say over their own lives within this society... and that's going to come into play, very obviously, later on in the series...

The last scene I wanted to mention was during Anil's planned dinner, when she and Pin were discussing Pin's birthday:

"What gift do you want from me for your birthday?" "Just wake up early to make merits and give alms to the monks with me, Your Highness."

I'm mentioning this scene for cultural reasons. In Thai culture, the tradition of making merit and giving alms together is tied to the beliefs of shared karma. The practice is said to bring prosperity to couples in their current life, and to ensure they will meet again in future lives. Pin's request is representative of her intentions to walk hand-in-hand with Anil in their present life, and in their future lives to come. I'm not crying... you are!!! 😭😭😭

[unstablerk800]

“NINES!”

"Yes?" RK900 half turned to look at Wanda, his LED calmly spinning in blue. "Is something wrong?"

[swordsmans]

Behold! My longest bind yet! Which is saying something, really. I began typesetting an anthology of @thychesters incredible zolu fics sometime last fall, printed the textblock in February, and finished the case... well, that's between me and god. Life happens! This was an unexpectedly tricky bind and I hope I did the gorgeous fics inside (and @loopeyfluff / @fluffyartbl0g's lovely fanart) justice!!

The cover is made of nine pieces, not including bookboard. I wanted VERY badly for the case to be entirely flush while still having an old-school layered appearance, so what you're actually looking at is filled blue fabric, a layer of white printed + foiled cardstock cut to lay against the corners, and then a layer of extremely thin translucent marbled paper with both the corners and negative space for the "labels" carefully cut out.

In order to gild the manga panel edit (taken from Sunny's introduction, btw) I printed and cut the cardstock, but before i glued it onto the bookboard i used washi tape, heat-reactive foil, and an iron (i'm cheap!) to carefully foil the parts that I wanted. This was my first time using proper toner-adhering heat reactive foil, and it was definitely a learning curve. I did lots of tests (sooo many foiled stickers. so many) and had a fun time. I'll definitely be using it in the future!!

After the layers of paper and fabric were pressed, I used metallic HTV to hide the seams and title the spine. It's a very neat effect, I think.

The edges of the textblock are also layered, with two coats of matte acrylic (pastel blue and green respectively) and one coat of green shimmer. The shimmer coat acts like a kind of sealant for the matte paints, so I didn't need to break out the beeswax this time. This was also one of the first sets I did with my guillotine (I cut it with Conquering and Spill Your Wine), which was an experience in and of itself.

I used white endbands and a 5mm white silk ribbon (looped this time; learned my lesson), then topped the bookmark off with a gold anchor charm. The textblocks are sewn with teal and green thread. And oh! And the endsheets are a teal, blue, green, and gold marble that's absolutely to die for—and kept staining everything blue the minute it touched moisture! Totally worth it though.

The typeset is my most colorful, I think. I went pretty heavy on the ocean themes because Kate has a really distinct pattern for her titles, and I wanted the book to follow!! I'm very pleased with how it turned out, and also endlessly delighted that Kate proofread her own typeset. That was very fun, hehe.

All in all, I think this was a very successful project despite the endless delays, and the final books look exactly like I pictured. I happy to send them to their new homes!! <3

[sometimesanalice]

“well,  i do feel a little better now that you’re here”

Bradley and SG please 👉🏼👈🏼 love your work Alexa ☺️☺️

Charlie, you gem! Thank you for always being so lovely and supportive! I hope you enjoy this one! 🥰

There You Are

Summary: It's the first time you're seeing Bradley in over 2 years. A lot of things have changed for you since the night he'd called you before that mission, but if there was one thing you knew you could count on, it was that he'd always be there for you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 1.5K

It had been nine days of radio silence.

Nine days since Bradley had called you in the night before he left for whatever classified mission the Navy had ordered him back to Top Gun for.

Nine days of wondering and hoping for the best. Trying to convince yourself that no news was good news.

Nine days of not tasting any of the meals you'd forced down as you waited. Not that you had much of an appetite anyways.

Nine days of tossing and turning in the bed you slept alone in, as you worked on untangling your life from your now ex boyfriend. The two of you agreeing to share the apartment like roommates until you found out about the promotion you were up for.

The one that might take you to San Diego. To the sunshine and ocean. To new opportunities. To your best friend.

You had pretty much dropped everything the moment you saw Bradley's name flash across the screen of your phone. The relief that washed over you at the sound of his voice- at his Hey, kid- nearly sent you to the floor.

While it had been another few days before you were able to get on a plane- he'd told you there were still some debriefs and paperwork that still needed to be done before him and his team could take leave- but you'd started packing your suitcase the moment the call ended.

You were antsy the entire six hour flight from Boston. You'd apologized more than once for nudging your neighbor's arm as you shifted and squirmed in your uncomfortable seat.

Hearing that final ding of the seatbelt off sign was music to your ears.

You'd called him the moment you stepped off the plane and Bradley picked up on the first ring.

"This feels familiar, doesn't it?" he rasps over the phone. You know he's thinking about the Spring Break you'd went to visit him at UVA. He'd picked you up at the airport then, just like he was doing now. "When is it my turn to be picked up at the airport, kid?"

Of course they'd dropped you off at the furthest gate in Terminal 1. You let out a huff and then set about threading your way through the throng of people standing between you and your best friend.

"Please, when's the last time you flew commercial?" you tease. "And it's not all of us can just waltz onto a Naval Base anytime we want."

"Hey, no one's stopping you from joining up. I'll even write you a letter of recommendation."

You weave around a stroller.

"Hmm, pass. But thank you for the generous offer."

And then past a couple holding hands.

He chuckles. "Guess that means I get to keep my title as designated chauffeur, huh?"

"Lucky you," you sing.

If you weren't on a mission, you'd consider stopping at the coffee shop that you're briskly gliding past for a quick cappuccino. But you had other priorities.

"Such a smart ass." You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

You speed up your steps, the glimmer of the exit now in sight. "Why don't you say that to my face, Bradshaw."

"I'm trying to, but you're taking forever," he grouses, famously the more impatient one of the two of you. "I'm to the left of Arrivals gate, by the way."

You smile to yourself. Knowing him, he has probably been there for at least an hour keeping tabs on you with some flight tracker app he'd downloaded on his phone.

"It's a good thing you told me, I'm not sure if I'd recognize you with that bold fashion statement you're sporting on your face now."

Bradley scoffs indignantly. "You haven't even been here thirty minutes and you're already dunking on the 'stache, kid? It looks better in person, give it a chance."

You pull over just to the right of the Terminal exit, tucked next to a potted ficus, taking a moment to scan through the crowd of people waiting for their own travelers. He's not hard for you to find, standing head and shoulders above everyone else in the area.

Whole and healthy and here in front of you.

It's been a little over two years since you've last seen Bradley in person, he'd been stationed in Japan before his return to Top Gun. It was still hard to believe that the lanky boy you'd grown up with had become the well-built man standing across the way from you.

During his time in the Navy, he'd truly come into himself. The easy confidence in his posture was well earned and looked good on him. But you had to stop yourself from laughing and giving yourself away when you see him impatiently tapping his toes. Because no matter how much some things change, there are some things that will always be the same.

"I don't know about that," you muse, still taking him in because there was a moment there when you weren't sure you'd ever get to see him again. "I can see it from here and I'm still on the fence about it."

You see him look around, confused for a moment, head swiveling trying to spot you. You don't keep him waiting long, stepping out from your hiding spot and into view.

You mouth hi and give him a little wave.

"Hey, there you are." There's no missing the wide grin on his face. "You going to stand all the way over there or are you going to come see the mustache up close and personal?"

You laugh and shake your head making your way to him. "I guess I might as well considering I did fly all the way across the country to see it."

"And me, I hope."

"And you," you confirm.

You end the call, tucking your phone into your bag as you close the gap between him and you.

Those whiskey brown eyes are one you've known your whole life. His curls looked like they've seen some sun, as did the rest of him. And the soft smile he had directed at you looked like contentment.

What stops you in your tracks are the fresh cuts that mark his face, new scars to be mixed in with the ones you already knew so well. They're shade of bright pink that's impossible to miss.

"Oh my god, Bradley."

He doesn't say a word as you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head this way and that, inspecting him for yourself. He just gazes at you, reading every emotion as they run across your face, as you try to hunt for any clues to an answer about what happened that you know you'll never get.

"I'm fine, I promise," he murmurs.

"It doesn't look fine," you press.

He grasps you wrists with his warm hands and coaxes yours down between the two of you.

Too close. Whatever it was was too damn close. The evidence is right there on his neck and behind his ear, and you hate it.

Bradley squeezes your hands reassuringly. "I'll have you know passed the concussion protocol with flying colors." He tries to play it off as a joke, but the dark circles under his eyes and the weariness you see around the corners of his eyes tells a different story.

"Does it still hurt?" you ask, trying not to let your voice wobble.

"Well, I do feel a little better now that you’re here.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You're so-"

Ridiculous. Frustrating. Important to me.

You don't get to finish you sentence because Bradley is tugging you into his broad chest. The arms that wrap around you are fuller now, but his hug is as just a familiar as it's always been.

Yours thread themselves around his waist instinctively, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He holds you close, holds you tight. Bradley's always been the type to really hold on tight because he knows what it's like to have to let things go.

People come and go. There's the sound of departure and arrival announcements on the speakers overhead. Some people are saying their goodbyes, and some- like the two of you- are saying hello.

All of it happens around you and Bradley. As you hold him and he holds you. Both of you all too aware that this moment hadn't been a given.

"Thank you for not standing me up," you whisper, throat thick.

"I wouldn’t dream of it, kid," he says, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, and gives it a little wiggle.

You blow out a breath, not wanting a raincloud of what-ifs to damper your golden afternoon.

"Hi," you say again.

"I'm happy to see you," he replies, earnestly. You just nod your head because the feeling is so, so mutual. "You just gained three hours, you up for a little adventuring?"

"I’m all yours, Bradshaw."

It didn't matter to you what you did for the four days you were in town, just that you got to spend it with him.

"Good." He drapes a heavy arm over shoulder and reaches for your suitcase. "Because I'm pretty sure I owe you a milkshake."

You let him steer you towards the exit, to where you assume the short term parking garage is located, and ask, "Can I drive the Bronco?"

Bradley pauses. "We'll see."

You grin because it's not a no.

The California sun hits you in full force as you step out the automatic doors. You reach up and tug out the sunglasses that had been haphazardly tucked into the pocket of his silly Hawaiian shirt- that you were definitely going to tease him about later- and slip them on your face.

Bradley smiles over at you.

"I think California is going to suit you, kid."

And for the first time, here with him, you think it might too.

[theriverbeyond]

how do we know in the books that john is indigenous? can you say more about how his indigeneity is important to his story?

hello! so there is a word of god post on race (doesn't mention John but mentions that Gideon is "mixed Maori"), BUT I frankly don't think word of god statements are worth any weight without actual in-text support (see: the "dumbledore is gay" situation). SO!

Specific evidence that John Gaius is Maori, as revealed in Nona the Ninth:

When he is listing his education, John mentions having gone to Dilworth School (John 20:8). Dilworth is an all boys boarding school in Auckland and accepts students based on financial need instead of academic or sporting achievements. Demographics appear to be about 70% low income Maori boys, indicating that it is highly likely that John is Maori

John reports that P- said he looked like a "Maori-TV pink panther" (John 15:23) when his eyes turned gold. Maori TV is a TV station that is focused primarily on Maori culture & language revitalization, with presumably all or mostly Maori hosts, and tbh I don't see why P- would say this unless John was himself Maori

John uses a te reo Māori phrase ("kia kaha, kia māia") (John 5:20) when he is saying goodbye to the corpses in the cryo lab before the power is shut off. Though it is possible he said this as a non-Maori kiwi, but in combination with the previous two points of evidence I think this all very strongly points to him being Maori

He also renames his daughter Kiriona Gaia, "Kiriona" being just literally the name "Gideon" in te reo Māori

TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter but to ME this is all pretty solid proof

Why is this relevant to The Locked Tomb?

In Nona the Ninth, we learn that before he completed apotheosis and ate the solar system, John was basically trying to save the earth from capitalism-caused climate change. Climate justice and the rights of indigenous people over their own land are deeply tied together, in the same way that climate catastrophe and capitalism/ imperialism/ colonialism are linked. disclaimer that this is NOT my area of study and others have definitely said it better; this is just the basic gist as I understand it, but on quick search I found some sources here and here if you want to do some reading.

TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter, but i don't think it is a stretch to see John as an indigenous man trying to save the earth and getting ignored and shut down at every turn by primarily western colonial powers (PanEuro, the USA) who declare him a terrorist and then as a reader thematically connecting that to the experience of indigenous climate activists IRL

there are absolutely TLT meta posts that have discussed this before me; tumblr search is nonfunctional and I have been looking for an hour and a half and cannot find anything specific even though i KNOW i reblogged multiple posts about this in the first few weeks following NTN's release. sad & I am sorry

I think that by the time the books take place, John is 10k years removed from the cultural context he grew up in, with the Nine Houses having become a genocidal colonial power in their own right (with more parallels to be made between John's forever war for the resources of literal life energy and like, oil wars), but I also think that John Gaius is a fictional character who can represent and symbolize multiple different things in service of telling a story. (not to mention the potential thematic parallels being made to how oppressed people sometimes are pressed into replicating the power dynamics of their oppressors and continuing the cycle--now that is a tumblr post i KNOW i read last year and definitely cannot find right now, once again sad & I am sorry)

How Radical Was John Gaius, Really is a forum thread that was locked by the moderators after 234534645674564 pages of heated debate

[nightdiary]

relationship firsts with txt

word count: 4.2k genre: fluff, established relationship, mildly suggestive (at the end but nothing mature) author's note: had so much fun writing this one, hope it's just as fun to read! kind of went on a tangent with some of these but ... scratches head ... more for you to read! as always, feedback is greatly appreciated ^o^ enjoy 🤍

✧ yeonjun - sharing a bed

you’d like to bet that between you and yeonjun, your boyfriend was the braver one of you two. braver here being used loosely of course, and more in the context of yeonjun being absolutely unabashed in his affections and moves on you. shameless, to be more precise.

after all, he’d been the one to initiate your relationship. he’d also been the one to initiate your first kiss. organize your first date. say the unforgettable three words first. the whole nine yards, really.

“junnie, please,” you insist, threading your fingers through his and pulling him closer. “it’s awful outside, and my bed’s right here. my warm, soft, comfortablebed with your favorite person in it.”

“are you sure? really, don’t feel like you have to offer just to be nice,” he mumbles. his words are soft against the onslaught of rain outside, and you almost miss the timid edge to his voice.

he’s nervous, you realize with a start. your invitation appears to have thrown him off-guard, and it dawns on you that this is the first time you’d be sleeping in a bed together.

as if answering for you, the stormy sky outside splits open with another series of crackling lightning. flinching, yeonjun hugs his windbreaker tighter around himself, and you resist the urge to call him out for being stubborn. you’d spent the last half hour convincing him to stay the night, and after driving his excuses into dead ends, he had no option but to stay with his beloved partner instead of venturing out into the downpour.

tragic, right?

yeonjun and nervous aren’t exactly two things you’d put together. they can coexist, but not necessarily belong to one another. that being said, the strange predicament you found yourself in at the moment was making you worry.

“i promise,” you say, leaning in to peck him on the bridge of his nose. “now go shower. i love you, but you’re not coming into my bed with your outside clothes.”

as a freshly-cleaned yeonjun steps into your bedroom a half hour later, you try not to let your wandering eyes dip below his exposed clavicle. clearing your throat, you busy yourself with changing into your pajamas and slipping into your side of the bed, where you pretend to find interest in the miscellaneous belongings you’d strewn about your bedside table. now you’re feeling nervous.

yeonjun shyly perches himself on the edge of your bed, picking at a stray thread on your comforter. the image is so unlike the yeonjun you know, any semblance of your confident and shameless boyfriend now seemingly having been washed away. he’s replaced by a charmingly bashful version that you’ve only seen a handful of times before, primarily at the very beginning of your relationship.

it’s weird, and yet strangely endearing.

“there's room up here as well, y’know,” you prompt, snorting when yeonjun looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights. patting the space next to you, you pull back the blanket and smooth over the sheets, humming absentmindedly.

you hear movement a second later, looking up to find your boyfriend crawling up by your side and awkwardly shuffling under the covers. he lays on his side, peering up at you through his lashes and patiently waiting for you to join him. you take that as your cue to turn your bedside lamp off, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

you’ve just barely begun to make out the edges of yeonjun’s face when he shuffles closer, looping his arms around your waist and closing the distance between you two. his cold feet brush yours, and when you yelp in response, you’re met with a series of giggles that tell you there’s nothing to worry about.

“hi,” you say.

“hi,” yeonjun parrots, “you’re comfy.”

humming, you bring your hand up to massage the area where his neck meets his shoulders. almost instantly, you feel him relax even further into your embrace, dropping his face into your chest with a barely-discernable whine. got him, you think.

“does this mean i can sleep over more often?” it’s hard to hear him from where he’s mumbling against your shirt, but you’ve learned to decipher his sleepy murmurs.

“depends, are you going to get shy like this every time?”

yeonjun’s answer is muffled yet again, and you’re unsure if he was saying something or just whining again. tapping on his neck, you feel him draw back to look up at you, smoothing your thumb down the side of his cheekbone fondly.

“m’sorry, it’s just that i’m not used to you initiating things like this,” he says. his hand finds purchase along your hip and he rubs his thumb in comforting circles. “makes me feel nervous but in a good way. it’s nice to see you comfortable while doing these things.”

“so you’re saying i need to step my flirt game up,” you tease.

“whatever you’re comfortable with,” he’s quick to say, and you feel the fondness practically warm you inside out. no matter what he’s doing, yeonjun will always be gentle and considerate.

“well, looks like you’re in luck,” you decide, pinching his red cheek (gently). “cause i’m starting to take a liking to this shy side of you.”

✧ soobin - moving in together

out of all the things that could have gone wrong, you wonder why it had to be this.

“the moving company got their date mixed up,” soobin groans. he tosses his phone onto the only piece of furniture you two had managed to bring up yourselves– a rickety desk chair from ikea– and you snort as the sound reverberates around the empty room. “they thought we scheduled them for tomorrow. the guy sounded really sorry though, and offered a discount for the inconvenience.”

rubbing at your temple, you try to ignore the way your exhaustion grows tenfold at the news. “i’m too tired to be upset right now,” you admit. the only thing on your mind at the moment was rest. and food.

ever since soobin brought up the idea a year into your relationship, it’s been a big decision in the making. truthfully, it had always been at the back of your mind; the intimacy of sharing a living space with your partner. you knew you wanted to take this step with soobin and knew that it would require months of planning and arranging for it to be realized, but you were prepared to overcome whatever came your way.

finding an affordable place that wasn’t a considerable distance from both of your workplaces was challenging enough, but when you finally decided on a few candidates, another series of obstacles were presented. landlords had complicated requirements, especially for couples who weren’t married yet, and that left you with even fewer options than you’d first anticipated. add a pet into the equation, and you could count your choices on one hand.

(soobin had jokingly suggested you two get married to avoid one of the issues, but more and more often you found yourself wishing he meant it.)

the place you’d found was quite short of perfect, but it was lovely and fitting in its own regard. it had enough space for both of you and your baby (odi), and it was located in a neighborhood that allowed you to easily access family, the workplace, and a recreational area. soobin was going to live there with you, and that was enough to get you to overlook the less-than-perfect parts.

sitting down, you thank the universe that the place was at least clean when you arrived. you rest your back against the wall and close your eyes, listening as soobin cycles through another round of phone calls in the hallway.

you don’t realize you’ve drifted off until soobin gently wakes you up by patting your head. groaning and stretching, you almost fall over from excitement when you realize that the room smells like food. not just any food, but your favorite noodles.

the room’s still disappointingly empty and the sky outside is getting dark fast, but soobin’s looking at you with a dimpled smile and holding up a bag of takeout from your dearest restaurant like a trophy. you can write today off as a good day.

despite the fact that you still have no chairs or a table to eat on, you and soobin arrange yourselves and the few belongings you’d brought into a formation that allows you to eat comfortably on the floor of the apartment. you didn’t exactly dream of eating takeout on the floor of your empty place on move-in day, but hey, things have a way of working themselves out.

“this would be a good place for that shelf you liked at ikea,” soobin mumbles between chews, pointing his chopsticks in the direction of the wall adjacent to you.

nodding, you set your box of noodles down and gesture to the area by the grand window. “right? i was thinking odi’s cage can go here. and we can put up some curtains to make sure he doesn’t get too warm.”

something in your chest lets up. rolling your neck, you ignore the painful creak in your back and blink through your tired haze to admire your boyfriend. soobin, who had tirelessly pushed through today and made sure things worked out the best they could. soobin, who made sure you felt comfortable and accommodated throughout the whole process, especially when things got physically demanding. soobin, who loves you endlessly and got you your favorite meal after a long day.

“i’m really happy we’re doing this,” soobin whispers earnestly. his eyes dart around the empty room before settling on your hands where they’re cradled in your lap. “even if not everything goes our way, i’m glad i’m going through everything with you.”

“we’ll work this out too,” you promise, and it feels hopeful on your tongue. reaching out to encircle soobin’s free hand in your own, you squeeze it reassuringly. and when he smiles back, you start to believe yourself.

✧ beomgyu - meeting his family

there’s an element of truth to the saying karma is a bitch.

partially, you are at fault. but the instigator at fault here really, are those stupid romance movies you’d watched with beomgyu.

an important thing to note: neither you nor beomgyu are fans of romance movies. if anything, you two are able to bond over your mutual dislike of the genre, no matter which forms you choose to consume it in. that being said, your decision to binge-watch and extensively criticize them was coming back to kick you in the ass. hard.

“i promise my parents don’t bite,” beomgyu had said, in a light-hearted attempt to reassure you. “my brother might, but i’ll bite him back.”

you weren’t able to formulate a response back without screaming, so you gave beomgyu what you hoped was your best convincing smile. five minutes later, you found yourself at the threshold of his childhood home, stepping into it with quivering hands and a smile so shaky you feared it’d turn into a frown the second you relaxed.

here’s the thing. you’d always found it silly when couples met the parents in movies. you’d told your boyfriend that it was overexaggerated. cringy. unrealistic. sitting through the scenes made your skin physically crawl, especially when the characters purposefully got themselves into situations that evoked the strongest sense of second-hand embarrassment you’d ever gotten.

however, the worst part, inarguably, was the parents. without fail, every time, they were handpicked to be teeming with the most awful traits known to man. you understood it was purely for entertainment purposes, but god did it drive you up the wall.

tldr: you and beomgyu think romance movies are silly. you in particular think the meeting the parents scenes are the worst.

almost ironically, here you are, a solid five months into your relationship with beomgyu, meeting his parents.

they’re warm and inviting and the complete opposite of what your self-sabotaging brain had expected. his mother hugs you like you’ve known each other for years, smiling at you with a gentleness that makes your heart feel all funny. his father’s equally excited to meet you, eagerly ushering you into the house and bumbling about a much-needed tour (and a whole bunch of other things, but you’re still panicking and barely picking up anything else).

beomgyu remains at your side the entire time, hand securely held in his own as you shuffle after his father through the different rooms. you even get the pleasure of seeing beomgyu’s childhood room, which still retains a semblance of his younger self, encapsulated by the copious amounts of band posters and colorful figurines lining his shelves.

you’re joined by his older brother at dinner, who graciously introduces himself as beomgyu’s worst enemy and promises to show you blackmail-worthy material later. the meal itself is just as lovely, and you find yourself sheepishly reaching out for seconds and thirds when his parents encourage you to. the dishes spanning from one end of the table to the other are deliciously colorful and vary in taste and texture, and the thought of the family preparing for you in such a way has your heart clenching.

“this is freaking me out,” you tell beomgyu once the two of you retire to the guest room for the night. “why do they like me? why hasn’t one of them made fun of me for what i’m majoring in? are they going to hit me with it over breakfast tomorrow? because i’d rather not, i was really looking forward to those blueberry pancakes that your mom mentioned and–”

“babe,” he cuts you off, though not unkindly. his hands worm themselves around your waist, drawing you into a much-needed embrace.

letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you rest your forehead against his shoulder and allow yourself a moment of vulnerability.

“i wasn’t just saying things when i told you they’d love you,” he murmurs. you feel him beginning to gently sway you side to side, and you let yourself become boneless in his hold. “you’re perfect for me, and i’m perfect for you. it’s not hard for them to tell.”

nodding, you try to even out your breathing to match his. after a few minutes of silent rocking, your boyfriend pulls back to look at you head-on, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sheer fondness in his expression. even in the darkness, his eyes gleam with adoration and you find yourself overwhelmed with love yet again.

“thank you,” you say earnestly. you hope beomgyu understands how much this means to you.

the next morning, you’re finally able to indulge in a choi family breakfast (featuring their infamous blueberry pancakes and breakfast tarts). the table isn’t filled with hostile comments regarding the ins and outs of who you are, but rather genuine inquiries into your field of specialty and interests. beomgyu and his family listen attentively, responding in their own unique ways and furthering the conversation with interesting bits about themselves.

you feel beomgyu’s eyes following you throughout the entire morning, straying only once his attention’s called for by his parents. you spend most of your time at the table, exchanging embarrassing stories with his brother, and before you know it, it’s already noon.

you and beomgyu are tasked with washing the dishes while the rest of the family head up to get dressed for the afternoon activity that your boyfriend had suggested. for the most part, it’s slow and quiet, just like the rest of the morning. you’re bringing over the mugs when it happens– beomgyu moves in and readily corners you against the counter, grinning mischievously when you go red all over.

“i’m starting to regret bringing you here,” he whispers, and you feel yourself freeze as the sound of footsteps approaches the kitchen. “i can’t even get you to myself…”

“here’s that photo of him with his underwear on his head,” you immediately recognize his brother’s voice, and you rush to set the mugs down in the sink before you drop them.

beomgyu whirls around with a glare so harsh you worry he’ll start wrinkling at 30, and promptly tries to rip the photograph out of his sibling’s hand. the kitchen’s soon filled with yells, and if you had no concept of who was fighting in the room, you’d think it were two toddlers.

you know it’s no use picking a side, so you use the distraction as an opportunity to slip out the back door and greet your favorite family member– toto.

✧ taehyun - saying “i love you”

there’s something on your mind.

you can’t pinpoint exactly when it started following you, but ever since you’d first taken notice of it, it hasn’t left.

it’s present in the little things; when taehyun’s mittened hand seeks yours out blindly, when his eyes follow you through crowds fondly, when the scent of his cologne fills the empty gaps of your life with familiarity, when his mouth wraps around the syllables of your name with care.

it’s everywhere even when he’s nowhere to be found; he’s the tiger lilies at the florist boutique on your block’s corner, he’s in the rhythm of the pop songs you hear at the grocery store, he’s the stuffed otter you hug to sleep on difficult nights.

it’s abstract and yet it isn’t. by all standards, it isn’t tangible. and yet you know you feel it when taehyun weaves his fingers tenderly through yours; you know you see it when taehyun’s eyes meet yours and the edges curl like crescent moons; you know it’s part of you when you feel warm and electric all over at the prospect of telling him.

you’re in love with taehyun, and you’re going to tell him tonight.

“there’s something on your mind,” he says, and the grin on his face tells you he already knows.

shrugging, you look back down at your phone, situated precariously in your lap. the bright numbers on your screen read 11:54 PM. six minutes to midnight.

“you don’t have to tell me what it is,” taehyun continues. “but you know you can tell me anything. right?”

“right,” you confirm, voice soft. looking over at the neighboring rooftop, you notice a group of teenagers beginning to spill out into the night air. “of course. i know that.”

five minutes to midnight. the december air is brittle with snow as it blankets seoul, coloring the dazzling landscape a muted white. taehyun’s coat sits snugly around your shoulders, warm and familiar, encasing you like an unspoken promise. even as your breath curls into the night in gray tufts, you can’t feel a semblance of cold.

four minutes to midnight. scuffing the edge of your shoe against the ground, you tuck your phone into your pocket and stand up. taehyun’s eyes follow you, but you’re too afraid to look back. you pace over to the railing and lean against it, breathing in deeply to steady yourself. your ribs ache with anticipation, your fingertips buzz, and your throat feels tight.

three minutes to midnight. somewhere in the distance, a loud shout rings out. the teenage company on the next roof over begins to light their sparklers, giggling buoyantly at the flares that spring up.

two minutes. your breaths begin to thin out, each stretching just a millisecond reach less than the other. your mind is reeling, positively overwhelmed with how much there is to say, but the diminishing seconds keep growing and you’ve got no time.

one minute. from inside, you can hear the tv program’s commentator begin to count down the seconds. stepping back from the railing, you look up at the sky. it’s dark and empty, void of any stars that should be there.

“i have something to tell you too,” taehyun whispers.

you blink the world back into focus. taehyun’s to your right, looking at you with the words ready on his lips. seoul is loud and brilliant, but you can only see him.

taehyun’s hand finds your own, and you don’t have to think. you love him.

“and i love you,” taehyun responds.

you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud until the birds in your chest spring free. the world around you erupts into a colorful blast of fluorescent yellows and reds and blues, deafening as the fireworks fill the sky with vivid spirals. your ears are ringing and you feel out of breath and your throat aches, like you’d just screamed away every last second into january.

“i love you, i love you, i love you!” your shouts are drowned out by the whistle and crackle of the ceremony unfolding above you, but taehyun can hear you and that’s all that matters.

the cotton of his mittens envelopes the sides of your face and he brings your lips to his own with a toothy grin. he’s warm and smells like evergreen pine, tastes like the cider you had earlier, and you love him.

✧ kai - first kiss

“i’m not making this a big deal,” kai pouts. his eyes flit across your face, and his brows furrow when he picks up on the nervous twitch of your lip. “i’m not, right?”

“you’re totally making this a big deal,” despite the fact that you feel like your heart’s about to beat out of your chest, you giggle.

perhaps, in retrospect, you shouldn’t have told your boyfriend about your inexperience surrounding kissing. though it was a conversation you knew kai would handle with utmost consideration, you felt jittery and nervous all the same.

the secret’s involuntarily revealed a few weeks into your relationship when kai tries to kiss you at the end of a date. in an anxious fit, you’d freaked out and backed away, but not for the same reason that your boyfriend initially suspected. after copious reassurances and promises, you’d told him the real cause behind your panic: lack of experience.

if anything, kai took your confession in stride. he’d hugged you instead and promised to talk about the matter later, when you two weren’t trembling outside of your apartment at midnight.

the talk in question was currently being held on the floor of your living room. the two of you are curled up by the foot of the couch, facing each other with varying degrees of red on your faces. there’s a show playing in the background, but you’d stopped paying attention a long time ago.

you’d told kai that you didn’t want to make it a whole thing, and that he didn’t need to feel obligated to do anything out of the ordinary for you. a kiss was a kiss, and whether it happened in the mundanity of your home or at the top of a ferris wheel, it only mattered to you who it was with.

you just wanted to get it over with, for both your and your boyfriend’s sake.

kai looks at you with something so tender in his eyes you feel your breath catch in your throat. as the last of your laughter dies out and the silence returns, you try not to think about how much you want to throw caution to the wind and press up against him.

“i’m going to do it now,” he announces, and you try not to burst into another fit of laughter. 

the ghost of his hand brushes by your nape, cradling the back of your head and thumbing at your skin soothingly. you hadn’t even noticed that you’d gone warm all over, and the contrast of his cold fingers against your neck makes you shiver. kai’s eyes meet yours questioningly, and when you give him an affirmative nod, he leans into your space with purpose.

it’s short and chaste and achingly sweet, but above all, more than you could’ve asked for. the pressure against your lips is unfamiliar but not unpleasant, and you find yourself melting right into the feeling. but it’s gone before your mind can catch up, leaving you suspended mid-air with a rushing heart, yearning for more.

kai draws back from the kiss with a nervous exhale, though he hovers in your orbit with a giddy smile, watching for your reaction. his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are chasing your lips like he wants to dive right back in, and you’re sure you’re in a very similar predicament. pressing your palm against your cheek in an attempt to soothe your burning skin, you shyly look up at him through your lashes.

“how was it?” he asks, the question spilling out between the two of you like a secret. there’s a vulnerable undertone to it that immediately has you sitting up and smiling reassuringly.

“hmm, i don’t know,” you say teasingly, with an embarrassingly breathless quality to your words. you reach out to brace your arms around his neck, toying with the soft tufts of hair you find. “you’re going to have to do it again, i wasn’t really paying attention.”

kai’s eyes grow the tiniest bit wide, but then his lips pull into an uncharacteristically smug grin as he moves to lean in again. “yeah? well since you insist…”