#roommates beloved :''''''')

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ GIVING ROOMMATE TOJI A HONEY PACKET TO MAKE HIM HARD

You’re digging through the kitchen drawer for a pen but instead, you find a single, slightly crumpled honey packet— one of those ones from a diner Toji probably pocketed without even thinking.

That’s when the memory hits you: someone once told you honey boosts testosterone. Supposedly gets the blood flowing or something like that. You don’t know if it’s true but suddenly, you’re struck with the image of Toji randomly getting hard for no reason— looking all confused and irritated and the idea of teasing and laughing at him for being a confused old man is too good to pass up.

You find him at the kitchen table, slouched in one of the chairs with a pile of mail in front of him. He’s fresh off work, still in his dusty jeans and oil-stained shirt, arms looking way too good folded up like that. His hair’s a little messy with his bangs cascading down his forehead and slightly tickling his eyes. He smells like outside yet he still looks like sin.

You casually slide the honey packet across the table like it’s a top-secret document. He glances up. “What’s this?”

“Just try it,” you say softly, feigning innocence as you open the fridge for a drink. “Natural energy booster. Thought it might help after work, y’know?”.

Toji raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question you. Just casually tears the packet open with his teeth and licks the honey off the edge like it’s nothing. You watch from the fridge, biting the inside of your cheek to hold in your laugh. It’s criminal how fucking good he looks doing something so simple. You grab your drink and vanish to your room before he can notice the grin creeping onto your face.

It takes a while but maybe thirty, forty minutes later, you hear him shifting around on the couch. You peek down the hallway— and fucking shit.

He’s still lounging there, TV on but he’s clearly not paying any attention. One hand is resting on his thigh, the other tucked under his head and his hips keep shifting. You freeze when you notice the obvious shape straining against the front of his sweats. It’s not subtle either— it’s blatant. The fabric’s tented, and he keeps adjusting himself with this irritated little scowl like he’s trying to figure out why he’s getting an erection without warning or doing anything.

You casually walk into the living room, trying not to beam. “You good?” you ask, doing your best to sound normal.

Toji grunts. “M’fine. Just—” He sits up a bit straighter because you were there, then glances down at himself. He frowns. “Dunno what the hell’s up. Got this fucking—”

He stops short, noticing your eyes lingering where they shouldn’t be. He tugs the hem of his shirt down over his crotch but it doesn’t do much. “You seeing this shit?” he mutters, looking genuinely confused. “Haven’t even been thinking about anything”.

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink. “Weird. Could be the honey,” you offer innocently. “You know, some people say it boosts testosterone”.

He stares at you. “You serious?”

You nod, lips twitching into a grin.

“…You gave me a fucking boner on purpose?” he says slowly, piecing everything together. You can’t help it. You burst out laughing like a immature child.

He rubs a hand over his face, groaning in annoyance. “Fucking brat,” he mutters, and when he stands up— yeahhh, there’s definitely no hiding it now. The fat bulge in his sweats is very prominent and you shamelessly glance down again.

He catches you.

“Oh, you like that?” he says teasingly, a slow smirk creeping across his face now. “All that just for you, huh?”

Your laughter dies in your throat. You did not think this far ahead. Toji takes a slow step toward you, still adjusting his sweatpants. “You think you’re real funny, sweetheart. Gonna be even funnier when I make you deal with it”.

You blink up at him, your heart racing.

“Still feeling like a joke to you?

You open your mouth to answer, but your brain has completely short-circuited. The taunting grin on his face grows wider when he sees the panic start to creep into your expression.

Toji watches you squirm for a second longer, then chuckles low in his throat, eyes glinting with amusement. “Look at you,” he murmurs, taking one more step toward you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him and maybeeee even the tiniest hint of his hardened bulge pressed against your tummy, but you don't dare look down. “All flustered over a little blood flow”.

You glare at him, trying to muster a comeback, but he just leans down a bit, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Y’know, if you wanted to see my dick that bad, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask”.

Your jaw drops. “What?! I did not!”

He starts laughing— really laughing this time, the kind that makes his shoulders shake as he straightens back up and ruffles your hair like you’re a dumb little sibling who walked straight into a trap.

“Oh my fuck, your face,” he says between laughs. “Worth every second”.

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, shoving his arm annoyingly but he doesn’t budge.

“And you’re a little brat,” he throws back, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Giving a grown man unsolicited honey just to watch him pop a boner? That’s sick behavior, kid”.

“You didn’t have to eat it!”

“You slid it across the table like a damn drug deal!”

You try to storm off, but he catches your wrist gently just as you turn. You pause, blinking up at him again, and he just gives you a crooked smile and murmurs, “Next time you wanna see it, just knock”.

Your whole soul leaves your body.

He lets you go, snickering to himself as he flops back down on the couch like he didn’t just commit a crime against your sanity.

[ghostsgrl666]

roommate!ghost who doesn't say much, but he does all of the housework and always seems to know when you've had a bad day because suddenly you hear a knock on the front door and the loud rustling of a takeout bag before he's slowly pushing your half closed bedroom door open, slipping in to silently offer you your favorite food. You don't know what he does for work or where exactly he's from but he's always there when you get home from a bad date, or a good one for that matter. And everytime you go to the bathroom or grab something from the kitchen, the moment you come back the guy is stuttering together a string of excuses as he practically scrambles out of your apartment.

You drop down onto the couch, holding back tears and asking ghost why guys don't like you. He rubs your back with his wide palm and draws circles on the inside of your knee with his thumb, wordlessly comforting you. It's innocent, you tell yourself, he's just a touchy guy. That's why he always lets his hand graze your waist as he shifts past you in the hallway, always lets his fingers linger two seconds too long every time you hand him something. You lose confidence in that conviction, though, when you end up in his lap as the tv screen darkens with the end credits of the movie he had been watching (really counting down the seconds until you got home from your date). His big arms are wrapped around you and your head is buried in his neck, tears eventually turned to a steady warm synchronization of your breaths together. As you shift your weight, hips dragging up his leg, you suddenly feel him between your legs. His whole body tenses as the warmth of you presses on his hard cock over his sweatpants. You roll your hips again, this time pressing harder against him and he all but fucking moans, a low broken sound escaping his throat. His hands come to your waist and squeeze as you do it again and again and again, not stopping until he whispers the dirtiest things you've ever heard in your life against your skin while you come for him. Not stopping until his mask is somewhere on the floor, his lips finally opening up to you in all the ways he has just been waiting to show you.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I don’t know why but I often don’t give off Person Energy. That fundamental personhood that makes someone notice when you’re in a room or on a couch.

People will walk into rooms that I’m in first and then startle when I address them half an hour later. My beloved will walk by me on the bed while texting to ask where I am.

It’s pretty exclusively when I’m chilling, when I’m out and about or at work I register to other people, but at rest I go below a human spectrum of energy output. I don’t really have a point except to be fascinated as to what I’m doing different than other people.

[sclappin]

SHOP UPDATE!

The ill-advised Hamlet pins made about 5 or 6 years ago are currently on sale for $5.

I simply have too many of these things in my home. They have stayed with me, mostly unsold, through four separate moves. They're an awkward shape for storing in large quantities. Surely some of you must know a goth or an english major or a theater kid who thinks this is kind of funny.

For the love of god, please take these tiny Danish skeletons off my hands.

EDIT: SOLD OUT!

[mockerycrow]

ON MY MIND (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; you wear kyle’s hoodie and he’s forced to confront some suppressed emotions.

[WARNINGS; gaz is a smoker & is emotionally weary, fluff!]

“Kyle!”

His head tilts a bit from the call of his name, muffled and frustrated. His eyes focused on the glass plate in his hand, his other hand scrubbing the thing with an overly-used sponge. “Yeah?” He calls back, only turning his head by his left shoulder a tad bit so you can hear him better as he’s assuming you’re not near the kitchen.

Kyle hears you shuffling around, your shoes scuffing against the floorboards. You don’t respond for a second, but Kyle knows you’re focused on.. Whatever you were doing. He puts the soapy plate in the other side of the sink in the next tub, reaching for the next dish. However, his sleeve slips down his arm a bit, getting wet and soapy. “Ah..” He cringes out loud, his lips pulling uncomfortably as he uses two fingers to tug the now wet sleeve back into place.

Kyle hears your footsteps approach from the next room, causing him to tilt his body so he can keep his wet hands over the sink whilst also looking at you. You enter the room with a frustrated look upon your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your lip curled ever so slightly curled. Kyle chuckles, unable to help himself at how pathetic you look at the moment and he knows it’s not over anything important. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs, already amused.

You’re holding up one of Kyle’s hoodies, one the ones that has his last name sprawled across the back. He blinks for a moment before you begin to speak. “I gotta run to the corner store real quick and all of my hoodies are still damp in the dryer,” You exclaim, putting the hoodie down a bit so you can look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your hoodie to walk down there?” 

Kyle’s lips purse for a moment, a weird sensation manifesting in his chest cavity as he thinks about wearing his hoodie. “Go ahead, don’t need you getting sick, yeah?” Kyle utters as he turns back to the sink, pinching the front of his shirt and pulling it from his chest as if it’ll ease the sensation. “Sick! Thanks, Kyle. You want anything?” You ask, quickly pulling the hoodie on, adjusting the sleeves.

Kyle’s back is to you as he grabs another dish, mindlessly cleaning it. “‘Course, sweetness. Grab me some crisps, won’t you?” He says, putting the.. clean(?) dish into the other side of the sink on top of the soapy plate. “Yep, I got it. Bye, Ky!”

The door shuts.

Kyle blinks, staring at the soapy water with the tightness in his chest remaining, even after your exit. He sighs slowly, pushing his thumbs into the corners of his eyes—then he shouts, because now soap is in his eyes. “Shitshit—” He hisses, quickly turning on the faucet to wash his eyes out.

Kyle never asked for his hoodie back—a part of him expected for it to appear folded on his bed, washed and taken care of and the other part wished he never saw it again except for you wearing it. You always seemed to lose your hoodies after that, or you went through your collection much faster than you previously had. Neither of you pointed it out, especially Kyle. He was quite alright with a couple of his hoodies disappearing conveniently right at the times you were planning on leaving for a store, or just an outing in general.

Something sickly sweet twists in Kyle’s gut when he sees you wearing his hoodie. It’s something clawing at his insides, gnawing at his bones—energy that makes him want to bash his head into the wall and he isn’t completely understanding why. The second he sees you wearing one of his hoodies, especially the ones with his name on it.. It’s like a little feral squirrel in his body goes wild. 

Kyle turns in his bed, groaning softly as he rubs his hand over his face, trying to focus on the coolness of his sheets as he rolls over. He thinks about Soap and Price, thinking about the night where you embarrassed him in front of his mates. Kyle stares into the darkness of his room as he thinks about how proud you seemed to be after making them laugh—how you seemed to beam at him after sharing a reassuring look.

“Bloody hell.” Kyle mumbles, his words muffled as he turns his face against the warm of his pillow, his breathing harsh for a moment. A pleasant warmth trickles into his chest as he thinks about his missing hoodies. How he isn’t able to help the giddy smile on his face when he sees you walk through the door, coming home wearing something with his name on it. His. His. His.

Kyle lifts himself from his bed, grunting as his feet hit the cold floor. He patters across the floor, quietly exiting his bedroom. Kyle’s heart thumps harshly against his chest. He shakes his head and gently slaps his cheeks as he walks down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, trying to rid himself of these thoughts—of thinking of you like that. He pauses for a moment when he hears the television on, playing at a low volume. Kyle slows his footsteps as he makes his way past the hall, coming into the living room.

The television is gently illuminating the room and he hears you before he sees you. You’re sleeping on the couch, your favorite blanket sprawled across your lap, your back and head supported by the stupid throw pillows Kyle insisted that you two needed for the couch. Your head is tilted down in a position that looks slightly uncomfortable, your lips parted—wearing his hoodie.

Kyle stares for a minute, his eyes softening as he leans forward, his fingers gentle as he takes your head in his hands and slowly but surely, adjusts the positioning of your head. Kyle watches the way your eyebrows furrow for a moment, your lips pressing back together closed. His lips twitch into a soft smile as he watches you shift in your sleep, your face leaning more into his palm.

Kyle’s heart stops for just a second before he brushes the pad of his thumb against your cheekbone, your skin hot under his touch. So warm and full of life.

His chest tightens again and Kyle carefully pulls his hand away from you, his feet quick as he grabs his cigarettes and lighter from the counter near the backdoor, escaping out the back to forget about what his feelings truly mean.

🏷️; @kivino @mlmxreader @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @lieutenantlashfaz @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @snoowply @dumb-fawkin-bitch @abigatorchomp @s8nsbride @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff

this is from my overall taglist which you can find here. if you would like there to be a roommate!gaz taglist, comment below! mistakenly tagged/wrongly tagged? let me know, no hard feelings.

[kalivodas]

i CRAVE roommate!gaz who lowkey makes your jaw drop everytime you see him chilling on the couch in an exercise tank top and shorts with his stupid little perfect smile

FALSE GOD — kyle garrick

might’ve started drooling i fear roommate trope means everything to me !! enjoy this quick lil thing i spit out

warnings gaz is hot and cocky what’s new

KYLE GARRICK HAD a sickness. an insatiable hunger at the base point of his skull that told him to strum your nerves like raw guitar chords.

he followed it’s beck and call. ignored every one of yours.

that’s why he teased you like this. he needed you to admit the things he saw dance behind your eyes when he called you sweet little names.

his head dipped on the back of the couch, chiseled jaw grinding as his body stretched. a large palm laid flat on his taut belly, thumb hooked just past the waist band of his shorts.

you opened the door, and his stupidly beautiful face split in a grin. it was truly nothing you’d hadn’t seen before, you seemed to always catch kyle at the worst times.

“go take a shower, you whore.” you throw at him, then your keys and bag.

he tosses it to the side with a grunt.

“i’m not a whore,” he says simply, but the way his left eyebrow arches up — you question the validity of the statement. he cocks a forearm up behind his head, flexes it, and you know it’s a lie. he fucking knows he’s hotter than a two dollar pistol. and it irks you.

but damn it, he was pretty enough to lick the sweat off of.

“staring at me like you could eat me and i’m the whore,” gaz scoffs, and some acid bitten laugh falls from your mouth.

“oh, you’ve done it now, garrick.”

you lunge at him, crossing the couch in a few lousy jumps before you start throwing cushioned blows into his abdomen. you ignore that it feels like you’re hitting bricks.

he tips his head back and laughs, actually lets you land some of those strikes before he kicks a leg under you. his hands follow your wrists, pin them together and then you to the couch.

a gasp falls out of your mouth before you can stop it.

your eyes jump around frantically, some pathetic attempt to ease the concrete set gaze he has on you. you struggle against his grip, but it’s unwavering. makes a coil tighten in your stomach.

“kyle, let me up,” you huff, but he’s beaming like a damn cheshire cat.

“no.”

you jerk against the restraint again. “please?”

he cracks, and the bruising of your arms briefly alleviate, but when your eyes find his, he pushes down harder.

“admit you like me,” he coos, and it sounds foreign coming out of his pretty mouth. this six something, two hundred pound man, pinning you to your shared sofa, almost pleading with you to admit something so juvenile.

you laugh. “i don’t.”

“do too,” he rebuttals.

“do not.”

he hikes a meaty thigh between your legs and pushes it against you. something that stings you like arsenic and warms you like whiskey hits the back of your throat. he feels the heat of you against him and has to bite his cheek not to vocalize it.

“do too. i can feel you, lovie.” at least he tried.

your head lolls to the side. you can feel his eyes burning fever onto your turned cheeks. “fine.”

“fine what?” he implores, and his free hand falls to squish your chin, make you look at him again.

“fine, ithinkyou’rehot.”

“hmm?” he’s not having it. prick.

“you’re beautiful and you make me sick when you look that good sweaty as a mug. happy?”

he nods and licks his teeth. you can tell he feels accomplished, like he’d won something out of a claw machine. maybe he had.

“yes.” he grinds his leg again just to see you swallow a whine then releases you from his sick vice. pats your cheek for good measure. “thanks, pretty little dove.”

when he rises to his feet to go off and shower as you’d originally suggested, there’s a twisted triumph etched on his face. it makes your eyes roll. he’s honestly just glad you caved before he had to start walking around the house naked.

a/n : begging someone to ask for a part 2 im drooling

the part 2

[thisisntseriousbusiness]

Bagginshieldtober - Day 4, 8, and 10

Prompts - Culture, Courting, and Music

I really enjoyed the process of this one, esp because I saw this photo on pinterest and immediately thought of them :3 <3

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ RANDOMLY SITTING ON ROOMMATE TOJI’S LAP :p

It’s late and the apartment is quiet except for the hum of the TV. You’re standing in the kitchen, debating whether to grab a snack or not and you glance over at Toji. He’s manspreading on the couch, one arm resting on the back, the other loosely holding his phone, attention flicking between the screen and the muted action movie playing. He just looks sooo comfy sitting there.

You don’t think much before moving, letting impulse carry you across the room. Instead of taking your usual spot beside him, you drop yourself onto his lap, settling in like it’s the most instinctive and normal thing in the world.

Toji doesn’t react immediately— just tenses slightly beneath you because the new weight of your body pressing against his thighs. He exhales slowly through his nose like he’s deciding whether this is worth making a fuss over or not. His phone tilts in his hand, green eyes slowly shifting from the screen to you.

“You getting comfortable?” he finally mutters, voice low and amused, fingers drumming lazily against his thigh beneath you. You hum, adjusting slightly— not too much, just enough to make his grip twitch. “Mhm”.

He scoffs at the audacity, tossing his phone onto the couch beside him. His hands find your waist, big and warm, palms pressing firmly against your sides like he’s trying to decide if he should just pick you up and dump you somewhere else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the couch, thick muscles shifting beneath you as he settles in like he’s accepting his fate.

“You’re annoying,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite behind it. His hands stay on your waist, fingers flexing slightly like he’s still getting used to the weight of you there. You shrug, resting back against his chest and opening the bag of chips that you brought with you.

You slightly tilted your head back to glance at him while popping a chip into your mouth. “But you’re not making me move”. Toji clicks his tongue, tipping his head back against the couch and returning his attention to the TV. “Tch. Do what you want, brat”.

You do. And he lets you.

His grip tightens— just a little, just enough to make you wonder if you should be pushing your luck.

[silostosstuff]

Sometimes I scroll through my old posts and remember that, in my head, there is an entire Quill Kipps backstory and yeah that's it

[ya-boi-alex]

I will never be over them eventually ending up in the same team

[so-very-small]

borrower me, carefully coming out of my home in the walls. i exit out onto the kitchen cabinet, breathing deeply and taking in the scent of bread and fruit as i walk by. using my fishhook grappling hook, i carefully make my way down to the floor. from there, it takes me twenty minutes to reach the front door, and another ten to climb up and exit via the mail slot. at my two inch height, it takes another half hour to walk out and climb up onto a fence post, so i may sit and watch the sunrise. it’s the first time i’ve been outside the house in months. a hawk swoops down, snatching me up in it’s talons. i am never seen again.

[stateofbrock]

And they were roommates 😮

Going to Nola this Friday which is cool ash

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

Jonathan 🤝 Dracula: "My beloathed"

[joe-bidens-alt-account]

Gm twin nation

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ HAVING A NIGHTMARE AND ASKING ROOMMATE TOJI IF YOU CAN SLEEP WITH HIM

It takes you a few minutes to work up the nerve to do it. You’re standing outside Toji’s bedroom door, shifting on your feet, feeling ridiculous considering you’re fucking grown yet scared like a kid because of some random nightmare. But the nightmare still lingers, the shadows in your room feeling too heavy, a bit too real. You just need… something.

You knock lightly. Silence. You debate turning around, but then there’s a low, groggy grunt from inside. “What?”

You push the door open just enough to peek in. The room is dark but you can make out his large form sprawled across the bed, barely covered by the blanket. His voice is thick and deep with sleep when he mutters, “The hell you doing?”

You hesitate. “Had a nightmare”.

Toji sighs, shifting slightly to look at your silhouette better in the dark. “So?”

You fidget with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. Feeling awkward and embarrassed to even ask. “Can I sleep with you?”

There’s a beat of silence. You’re convinced he’s about to laugh or worse, tell you to fuck off. But then— “Yeah yeah. C’mere kid.” His voice is gruff, but there’s no irritation in it. Just exhaustion and weary.

You don’t waste time, slipping under the covers, and the warmth of his bed immediately makes your body more relaxed and calm. He doesn’t even hesitate— just slings a big arm over you, gently yanking you in against his broad chest with ease. His skin is warm and comforting. You exhale, pressing your cheek against his pecs and resting your head against him while he holds you.

“Better?” he mutters, voice already fading. “Yeah,” you whisper back. He grunts in acknowledgment and then, just as you start to drift off, he starts snoring. Loudly.

You almost laugh but the steady rise and fall of his chest is sooo comforting and relaxing that you would’ve fell asleep even if you weren’t tired. The nightmare feels so far away now that you’re lying with him and being so close in his arms.

And despite the snoring, you fall asleep easily.

[chiropteracupola]

as part of the delightful wonderful @sailorpants' birthday boy king taskmaster extravaganza, I present to you the Most Dramatic Letter Written Home from a Polar Boat Journey Which Is Going Horribly.

Dear Mother, If this letter reaches you well I am not sure how that happened given that all who remain to post this home are penguins & leopard seals & the horrible dr Fred Cook. I am some where near the South pole but I know not where on acct. of the Captain has thrown all our navigational equipment into a crevasse to prevent us turning back. Alas by then we were Three days since our last sight of the ship so we are about lost. After this occurrence the Bosun was set up on [sic] by two of the Meteorologists as [illeg.] the steel legs he had received after the war might be used for compasses. They were disciplined by being thrown into a crevasse by the Captain. The remaining men who had not been drowned frostbitten taken by consumption [illeg.] trampled by ponies got food poisoning ect. mutinied against Capt. & threw him into the crevasse. We regretted this for we found that he had hidden all of the food in his coat. In the next days the horrible dr Fred Cook & I drew lots among the men — we killed and ate the master's mate the cabin boy two ABs & my good friend [illeg.] Thomas who I once fucked in our berth for lack of any otter [sic] companionship. Very much afraid that the horrible dr Fred Cook will eat me next in order to survive as he has been eyeing me in a creepy way of late. Giving this letter to a penguin — shall now walk out into the ice to die — I lay this is a better fate for me than being stabbed with a marlinespike & being eaten raw and warm by the horrible dr Fred Cook. I am yr loving son always, Thomas Thomas Williamson, AB