#Garment Dryer Stand

[artecue]

Modern Style for Wide Range of Use: The garment rack of great practicality brings much more convenience to your daily life. You can display your clothes in the bedroom. To help yourself to decide everyday outfit more conveniently, rather than store them in the cabinet again and again. 2 in 1 Design for Ample Space: Perfect rack to organize your everyday outfits or to arrange your seasonal closet. There are two long enough hanging rods that give you the ability to keep all your clothes organized. In the case of being scattered all around the room. In order to maximize space utilization. It adopts one wide bottom storage shelve, allowing you to store shoes, bags, hats and more. The living surrounding is neater, life is happier. Sturdy Metal Structure for Lasting Durability: Characterized by a solid metal structure. The cloth rack shows perfect performance in sturdiness as well as load-bearing capacity. of evenly distributed weight. The powder-coated surface makes it not easy to rust, and thus enables longer service time. Meanwhile, its rounded tube causes no harm to your cloth. Simple Assembly & Easy Maintenance: It is not difficult to find how to put all parts together within minutes, even alone since the rack features an ultra-simple design. Daily maintenance requires less effort, and what you need to do is just wipe the dust off with a soft cloth, super easy clean-up. Product Size: The clothes hanging rack measures 110*40*150(132) cm L*W*H

#Garment Dryer Stand #3 Tier Clothes Airer #Dryer stand

[yeorisanaxox]

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ➤ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ᴏᴛ8 x ꜰᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, sᴏᴍᴇ sᴜɢɢᴇsᴛɪᴠᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ

sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ ➬ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛɪᴇs

ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs sᴏꜰᴛ ᴅᴏᴍ!ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ, ᴍɪɴɢɪ ᴅᴇᴀʟs ᴡ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ, ᴀss sʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ/ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋ ᴘɪɴᴄʜɪɴɢ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇs, ʟᴏᴡᴇʀᴄᴀsᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ ᴜᴘ ᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴡ :,) ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ɪs ʜᴀʀᴅ ʟᴏʟ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ :)

ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ. You were trying to get dressed as quietly as you possibly could without waking up your boyfriend but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out where the hell you had tossed your damn pants the night before. Sure they had legs but they couldn’t just get up and walk off.

It had gotten so bad that you started checking in bizarre places like behind hoongjoong’s desktop and the little space between his headboard and wall but they weren’t there either.

Where the hell—

“What are you doing?” You jumped and whipped around to see your boyfriend sitting up on one arm. Not one wink of sleep was in his eyes, making you question how long had he been awake.

“I’m looking for my pants but I can’t find them…” you trailed off in your starting rant, noticing a certain glint in his eye and that’s when it clicked. That’s why he doesn’t look tired. Stalking up to his side of the bed and darting your hand out.

“Give me my pants.” You say with all seriousness.

“And why would I do that when this view is so much better?” Referring to you standing there in your panties. He teasingly bites his lip whilst reaching out to hook his finger in the band of them and pull you closer to him with one tug.

“How about you come lay back down and let me see you some more like this, and just maybe I’ll consider giving them back.”

sᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ. He probably wouldn’t have freaked out as much if it had happened at your place, knowing that sometimes yours and his laundry did get mixed up between visits. But because it happened at the dorms where any of the boys could’ve seen it. And just his luck, of course it was wooyoung who saw them.

“Hyung, I think you forgot something.” He turns and finds wooyoung skipping up to him with his hands behind his back. Did he? His laundry soap was sitting on top of his basket so it couldn’t be that. Did he maybe forget to empty the dryer fully? His face then flashes to something horrific at the sight of wooyoung holding your underwear just by the strap.

Never have he moved so fast, snatching the garment out of his hand, not without whipping him upside the head with them after.

“Ow!!”

“These are mine!” He spat stupidly, not thinking what he was saying. He was just trying to get them in the pocket of his sweats before any of the others saw.

“Since when do you wear—”

“You speak nothing of this. Nothing! Or else I’ll tell San it was you the one who spilt coffee on shiber.”

He didn’t even wait for his reaction before stalking off to his room, closing the door shut. Seonghwa let out a big sigh, pushing himself away from it and onto his bed where he then reaches for his phone and pulls up your contact to text you.

To y/n:

Found those panties you were looking for. You caused me quite the trouble. I think you should make it up to me…

ʏᴜɴʜᴏ. “What do you think about this dress, baby?”

Approaching him from behind, yunho puts his phone down to give you his— UNDIVIDED ATTENTION?? He gaped at the so-called dress you spun around in, the end just barely meeting your mid thighs and the material…well let’s just say, he could see your ass.

Out of nowhere, in your little fashion show, he starts laughing and clapping to himself, raising a frown from you.

“What’s so funny?” Folding your arms in offense. And just like that, he stopped, wiping his last fake tear before sliding forward to the edge of the couch with a more heartfelt tone.

“Baby. I can literally see your underwear through that dress.” He points at your rear, which you try and cover with your hands.

“You’re lying.” You scoff, ready to walk your way back to your room to see what he was talking about but his hand was quicker. Swiftly catching you by the thigh, he backs you into him and with the other hand, he grabs the end of your dress and pulls it up over the mound of your ass.

“Yunho!” You exclaimed and reached out in front of you to steady yourself on the coffee table.

“Yeah I can definitely see them now.” He chuckles darkly, sending chills down your spine as he fondled with one asscheek before delivering it with a hard smack.

“Bending over like this, anybody else would’ve seen them too…”

ʏᴇᴏsᴀɴɢ. The only time he ever really saw them was behind closed doors and that being just for a blink before tossing them somewhere on the floor.

So when you casually appear out of nowhere, walking up to him in one of his shirts and just your panties, he quite literally chokes on the water he was drinking and gaped at you as if you had grown two heads.

First of all, you looked stunning as hell in his clothes but seriously, what the fuck?!

“Are you crazy?!” He panics and hurriedly pulls you down into his lap, covering you both with some blanket that happened to be next to him.

“If one of the guys were to come back and saw you, I would never hear the end of it.”

Especially from wooyoung. God—He mainly wouldn’t let something like this go without endlessly teasing him about it for at least a month.

There then was a long moment of silence, the only source of sound came from the show playing in front of you that was long forgotten, that was till yeosang breaks it.

In the quietest of voices, you were still able to hear, “They’re really cute tho.” Despite his face being buried in your shoulder.

sᴀɴ. He’d usually knock before entering your bedroom when he knew you went to change but at the moment wooyoung wasn’t making any sense in his spawn of messages and on top of that, san’s phone was about to die.

‘Charger. Charger. Charger.’ Was the only thing going off in his head, almost making himself run into a wall because he was trying to respond at the same time that it didn’t even register to him that he had barged in on you until you let out a squeak.

“Oh—I’m sorry baby,” he instantly covers his eyes as if he hasn't seen you in your underwear before.

“It’s okay. You just scared me, that’s all.” Breathing out relief. “Good thing you’re here though,” your tone instantly switching to a more bubbly one. “What do you think about these? I got them for a great deal at the mall.”

He then removed his hand and looked as you gave him a little 360 of the new panties you were sporting. Cute and minimum coverage. Just how he liked them.

“So pretty.” His tone being soft while he reaches out to pull you in by the hip to get a better look. His fingers sneakily wander over the material and even more slyly pinches your cheeks, causing you to yelp and smack his chest.

To sum up the story, his phone eventually ended up dying so whatever it was wooyoung needed to say, it was gonna have to wait until he was done with you.

ᴍɪɴɢɪ. You were already long gone by the time he came back with a warm washcloth and a fresh pair of panties to clean you up with. All those times you teased him the following morning for falling asleep immediately, now look at you. He finally had something to get you back with. But for the moment, all he wanted to do is take care of you.

Gently, he spread your legs without waking you so that he could start cleaning you. Once he was done, he then shimmied on your panties, making sure they were comfortable sitting on your hips.

There. He thinks to himself, smiling suddenly at what he picked out. The red and green cherry pattern was in complete contrast to your purple bra that was peeking out over your tank top. So he may have or not picked them up just because they were cute but hey, at least you covered. That was his logic.

He pulls your strap back on your shoulder while also leaning down to press a tender kiss against your forehead, “I love you.”

ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ “wooyoung, please.” Bucking your jean-clad pussy into his hand, trying to get more friction. If you didn’t need him so badly and knew that you could make yourself feel twice as good, you wouldn’t even be putting up with his teasing. But the hard reality was that you couldn’t. And he knew that just as well.

That’s why getting you all worked up was more pleasurable for him. That if at any point he stopped, you were going to beg him til tears. He knew just how to get what he wanted from his little princess and exactly how to make her behave.

“So wet for me and I haven’t even taken these off.” He giggles in your ear, referring to the dark patch that was dead center of your crotch.

“Let’s see now. Can woo see?” He laughs again at your frantic nodding. His hands then work on the bottom of your jeans, popping it open before shimming them down your legs.

“My, my, my. What do we have here?”

Just as he expected. You had seeped right through your panties, which he couldn't help but notice they were the ones he bought you for Valentine’s Day. You only wore them on special occasions.

“You wore these just for me?” He cooes and grabs the top of them, and pulls them up so that the seat was rubbing right on your clit. You moaned loudly at finally getting some stimulation, basking in it as long as you can.

“We’re gonna leave these on. That alright?”

ᴊᴏɴɢʜᴏ. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you say yes to spending the night? You never spent the night. Not because you didn’t want to. Hopefully he never thought that for all those times you turned down his offer. It’s just that— spending the night meant sharing the same bed. And while that doesn’t seem too big of a deal, you were still nervous because you only slept in your underwear.

Sleeping was more comfortable that way and solely why you had always been afraid to spend the night. You didn’t want to weird him out with your little habit.

Sensing your hesitation to climb in the bed after him, he frowned as you stared at the empty space beside him in deep thought.

“Hey,” he reached out to touch your hand in a loving manner, drawing your attention from the empty space to meet his eyes.

“If you’re uncomfortable with this, it’s okay. I’ll sleep on the floor and you take the bed.”

“No, no! It’s not that. It’s just…” you take a long pause before letting out a defeated sigh. There was no other way to tell him at this point.

“I only like to sleep in my underwear. My legs get too hot if I’m in pants but I didn’t want to weird you out because this is your room and I have no right to do what I want—”

Mid rant, somehow Jongho managed to scoot closer to you without you noticing and pulled you down, shutting you up with a brief kiss.

“It’s okay, doll. You can sleep in your underwear if you want. I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

He gives you an reassurancing smile whilst gently squeezing your hand. You return one of the same before letting out another sigh and stepping back to shimmy out of your pants. Blushing instantly at the way he eyed your panties, “pretty,” was all he said as he pulled you down in the bed with him.

written by yeorisanaxox. No translations or reposting. Leave a like and reblog w [feedback is much appreciated] ✨

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez smut #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #hoongjoong x reader #hoongjoong imagines #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa imagines #yunho x reader #yunho imagines #yeosang x reader #yeosang imagines #san x reader #san imagines #mingi x reader #mingi imagines #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines #jongho imagines #jongho x reader

[shotmrmiller]

currently doing one of my most hated chores which is laundry and it got me thinking.

It's bloody laundry day again. You've got no extra clothes to really wear apart from a loose, grey, too thin pajama shirt and the shorts it came with.

Tragic, but not the end of the world. No one goes to wash their clothes looking like they're right off the runway. And it's also far too early for the laundromat to be packed.

You'll survive.

Slamming your trunk closed, you straighten and wipe the sweat that's beaded on your forehead. Damn muggy air. Even at this hour, the weather chooses violence.

Pulling the door open, you step inside and hiss out a breath through your teeth. In here it's not any better. And there's only one big fan on, out of the many that are in here.

God you hate laundry day.

At least it looks empty.

Tucking your hair away in a makeshift, sloppy bun, you drag your dirty clothes basket to a washer and throw them in.

Next is your detergent and when you pick up the fabric softener, it's almost empty.

God fucking damnit.

And the person that sells stuff isn't in behind the desk.

Slamming the lid closed, you kick your hamper into against the washer and walk toward the cursed fan that probably only circulates the hot ass air in here. But with the way your pathetic shirt is turning damp and sheer from the sweat, and short strands of hair that are starting to glue themselves to the back of your neck, worse is nothing.

And then you're standing in the corner of the laundromat, getting hot air weakly blown into your flushed face. "Goddamn it's hot. Useless fucking fan is just here for decor, i think."

"Ah think so too."

You choke back a scream and spin on the balls of your feet to the deep, accented voice behind you.

A muscular pretty boy with hair the color of damp soil and blue eyes that sparkle brightly, even under the dim light of the place sits with his back to a washer that's currently going.

Devastatingly handsome. And you've been throwing a hissy fit for the past half hour, only to appear in front of him resembling a drowned rat.

Flatlining right now would be great.

"Damned hot in here, alrigh'. Isnae tha' so, Simon?"

Who? Oh no.

How you missed that behemoth is beyond you, but he rises from the ground like a slumbering giant. Ash brown choppy hair and dark, sharp eyes with the rest of his face covered by a black cloth mask. 6'4 at least, and built like bloody fridge.

Someone kill you now.

"Johnny."

His piercing eyes cut to you before flicking back to the man on the floor.

"Get the detergent."

"Aye." Scottish, it sounds like.

You briskly walk away from them two, face burning with embarrassment, back to the washer you're using.

Today of all days, you come across these two. You could cry, honestly.

They're there for as long as you are, and you've long since gotten past your self-consciousness. If you have to melt in this stifling heat for one more second, you just might scream.

You grab your clothes from the dryer with haste, haphazardly throwing them in your basket and with a quick, 'Have a good day!', you're out the door.

As you're about to get in your car, the scot comes bustling out the front door of the laundromat.

"Lass! Ah think these're yers."

What he holds in his hands has tears springing into your eyes.

Undergarments. Why the hell is he-

You can see the tall brit leaning on a machine, with his arms crossed and he's looking right at you.

The walk of shame to the pretty one is almost unbearable. Your trembling hand reaches for your garment. "Thank you."

He chuckles under his breath. "Anytime. See ye around."

How mortifying.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap x reader #ghoap #ghoap x you

[wol-fica]

shamelessly requesting for a smut with any JO char that gives g!p r head when r is asleep 👉🏻👈🏻👉🏻👈🏻

based on this:

https://twitter.com/_maiqo/status/1661162706739638272?s=20

summary - ^ (in the link)

an - that comic did something to me…

————————

Tara hummed softly to herself, throwing her dirty laundry in the washing machine. She had just finished taking a shower after her nap and her workout, and was now planning on organizing and cleaning the apartment after a spurt of energy came to her.

She turned on the machine, before opening the dryer to get out the fresh load she did earlier. The clothing was warm on her finger tips, sending a pleasant chill down her spine from the heat.

After settling the laundry basket on her hip, she strolled out of the scullery to head to the bedroom to fold the clothes. Tara was aware of you sleeping, you had told her you were probably going to take a nap after school, which is why she found you passed out on your shared bed.

She smiled at the sight, gazing at your sleeping figure for a moment. You stirred slightly, a soft mewl passing through your lips as you rolled onto you back. Tara cooed at you, taking out her phone to snap a picture before going into your shared closet to silently put away her clothes.

She slid an airpod into her ear while she worked, quietly singing and dancing along while she folded her garments. Her music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the noises you started to create. At first she thought you were just dreaming, being that you were huffing and mumbling, but that soon turned into pathetic sounding whimpers and whines that had her concerned.

So she came out of the closet, her eyes finding your body shifting uncomfortably in your sleep. She frowned, coming around the bed in thoughts of waking you up until she saw what was making you so squirmy.

There, under the conceal of your slightly tight grey sweatpants, was a large bulge. Tara’s eyes widened, her gaze focused on the rather huge tent in your pants. She glanced at your exposed stomach, her pupils expanding at the flex of your abs and the line of dark hair leading into your sweats.

“Oh sweetie…” She mumbled, kicking off her shoes and shorts before climbing onto the bed with you.

She knew you needed your sleep, the nap was well awaited and very much useful for you tomorrow, so she planned on making sure you stayed that way.

She watched you inhale deeply, before her hands grabbed the hem of your sweats and pulled. Your cock spring free, standing at a tall 7 1/2 inches, with its veins throbbing and a small amount of precum leaking at the tip. You were big, the biggest Tara had ever seen and taken, but she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

Her mouth watered as she pushed your legs up and apart, so they were bent at the knee and spread open for her. She got a good view of your balls, large and twitching as you dreamt about god knows what. She squeezed them slightly, before diving in with a broad lick up your shaft.

You groaned, hips bucking up slightly at the feeling. Her tongue reached your tip, catching the precum that was leaking out. She licked her lips, savoring the sweet taste of you before opening her mouth to take your tip in.

Her lips wrapped around you, tongue expertly licking and massage your sensitive top. You whined above, your thighs twitching in Tara’s grasp. She hummed in response, taking more inches into her mouth before you were sat snugly in the back of her throat.

“Mmph!” You moaned, one of your hands sliding down into her hair, “T-Tara!”

Her eyes snapped up to you, seeing your head thrown back into the pillow and your lips parted in a guttural moan. She smiled around your length, her tongue sliding up and down your shaft that sat in her throat.

Tara loved having you like this, enjoying the control she has over you. It was different from when you were buried in her pussy, that feeling was more intoxicating and pleasurable, while sucking you off was more satisfying and relaxed. She knew she was giving you the pleasure you needed, and she knew you very much loved it as getting a blowjob was one of your favorite things.

“Baby…” You whined, hips bucking up, “Please…deep throat me…”

She blushed at your forwardness but complied, opening her jaw wider to take the rest of you in. Soon, her nose bumped against your abdomen, the head of your cock nestled deep in the back of her throat.

She gagged around you, taking a long inhale through her nose before licking and sucking around your member. You cried out her name, both hands now in her hair to try to get her even closer. Slurping noises could be heard throughout the bedroom, mixed in with Tara’s muffled moans of satisfaction.

The knot tightened, a familiar feeling growing until it snapped abruptly. You came with a cry of her name, your cum shooting straight into her stomach. She swallowed greedily, throat bobbing with each suck.

“F-fuck…okay okay…” You pulled on her hair, trying to get her off due to overstimulation.

She giggled, pecking your sensitive tip before crawling up to sit on your abdomen. Her hands cupped your face, leaning down to kiss you passionately.

“That was extremely spontaneous.” You mumbled against her lips, feeling yourself harden when her ass bumped against your cock.

“Mmm, and you should let me spontaneously ride you.” Tara suggested, grabbing the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head.

She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, letting the garment fall and tossing it somewhere behind her. Her breasts spilled free, round and plump and waiting to be sucked on.

“Let me sit up.” You murmured, moving to do so while Tara got your own shirt off of you.

“God…your abs are sexy as fuck.” She observed, running her hands along your muscles, “So toned…”

You chuckled, pulling her hips up and back so your tip could run through her folds. She hissed at the feeling, pushing your hands away so she could have control. You let her, watching with blown pupils as she slowly lowered herself onto you.

She let out a hefty moan, her face scrunched at the feeling of you being so deep. Her walls pulsed around you, warm and velvety. Soon, her hips began to rock back and forth, creating an easy rhythm for her to follow.

Tara shuttered, moaning your name freely as she worked. Your hands found solace on her waist, kneading and pushing her as you pleased. You encouraged her, pulling her up and slamming her back down on your length to suggest a proper bounce.

She complied, adjusting herself before beginning to bounce up and down on your cock. The sight of your penis appearing and then disappearing back into her had you feeling like you were on cloud nine. With each slam of her hips, a large bulge appeared in her stomach from the sheer deepness that you achieved.

She kept going, resting her hands on your chest to give herself leverage. Her tanned skin had a sheet of sweat on it, creating a glossy look for her. Her hips grinded down into yours, causing you both to moan at the feeling.

“Damn babe….you look so good in my lap.” You praised, squeezing the fat of her ass, “So pretty and perfect.”

Tara moaned in response, rocking herself harder on top of you. She was chasing her high, clearly seeking the satisfaction of cumming. Your patient was wearing thin, and soon broke when her pace slowed slightly.

So you grabbed her by her hips, forcing her down onto your thickness before flipping you both over on the bed. Your hips pulled back before slamming into her, pounding away at a fast pace that had her losing her breath with each thrust.

Your head dipped down, mouth finding solace with sucking her nipple. Her hands clawed at you, your name being screamed as her walls clamped down tightly. She came with a loud cry, her back arching prettily while a gush of wetness covered your penis.

That didn’t stop you though, and you brought her straight into another orgasm as you finally found yours. Your hips drilled into her until you pushed yourself as deep as you could go, pumping and humping pathetically against her while you came.

“Fuck.” You breathed, letting Tara run her fingers through your hair, “That was…I…”

“Shhh.” She murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your face into her neck, “You still need that nap.”

“While I’m still inside of you?” You questioned, sleep crowding your senses as she scratched your scalp.

“Just go back to napping.” She cooed, teasingly squeezing you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You purred, giving her a sudden pump of your hips that made her squeal in surprise, before pushing her legs up onto your shoulders and pounding yourself back into her.

“Screw napping, I wanna fuck you.” You whispered into her ear while she screamed your name.

——————————

ye

#tara #carpenter #tara carpenter x r #tara carpenter smut #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter scream

[kaizdreamz]

Being sick with lyney.

fluff / comfort.

he takes care of you. (im sick again)

He'd wrap his arms around you, holding you close, listening to your gentle sniffles and wheezes. If you were cold he use a bit of his vision energy and warm you up. He'd grab you by the hand, gently leading the way to the shower. He'd help you sit down, and he'd join you in taking a bath, hopefully helping your sickness in your throat and nose. He'd gently wash your back, your eyes drifting close from how tired you were. He presses a warm kiss on your neck, leaning you back onto his chest so you don't inhale the water. He'd gently comb his hands through your hair, damp and a mess.

"how are you feeling, sweetheart?" He asked, softly.

"mm.." you made a garbled hum in response, sniffling still. "..tired," you croaked out, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry love.." he kisses your forehead, moving your hair out of your face. "As soon as you're dry you can go to sleep, okay?" He hushes your wheezy cough.

Rubbing your wrist gently, kissing your head. You lay there soaked in the warm water next to him as he can prevent you from falling asleep in the tub. His heartbeat is able to be heard from how close your ear is to his chest. The soft lull of his breathing and gentle heart beating brings you more to sleep, you glance up to him tiredly. His normally combed and styled blonde hair, a mess— sticking to his forehead it's curly when it's wet. He smiles at you softly, bringing your head to his chest.

"my pretty love," he coos in your ear, he hates when you get sick, but it's not as if he or you can control it.

He sits up, holding you with his arm wrapped around your tummy he turns the shower head on again, rinsing any left over soap off the both of your bodies. He steps out first, grabbing a towel and helping you stand so he can dry your hair the best he could and dry your body as you wobbled to stay standing.

He wraps the towel around you, kissing your nose. He turns and grabs one of his own, wrapping it around his waist. He picks you up gently, your ear pressed against his chest, he smiles dearly as your eyes flutter closed. He uses a bit of his vision to warm you up, pressing a warm kiss on your exposed shoulder.

"soon lovely," he murmurs, walking to his room where he places you down on the bed gently, rummaging through his drawers for a shirt and pants for you to wear. He picks out one of your favorite shirts of his, and grabs your garments, helping you dress.

As soon as you were dressed you tried crawling up to the pillows and going to sleep, he almost felt bad for having to keep you awake any longer. He doesn't want your symptoms to worsen so he wants to rule out every possible way to get sick; one of them being, going to bed with damp or wet hair. Which your hair was still very much so damp.

"nuh-uh, not yet.." he whispers pulling you gently back to his chest. "i'm sorry lovely," he hushes as he hears a garbled whine escape your throat. "i have to dry your hair.."

he crawls up the bed, pulling you into his lap. his heart breaks when he hears the faint wheeze as you breathe in, he presses a kiss on your wet hair. Rubbing your arm gently with his hand, grabbing the hair dryer and plugging it in. He combs through your hair as he dries it, the warm air from the dryer makes you shiver slightly. The smell of soap in your hair makes him smile, you both smell the same, it makes his heart swell.

he finishes drying your hair, unplugging the dryer and placing it over at the nightstand. he pulls you close to his chest, nuzzling your fluffy dry hair. kissing the top of your head as he picks you up and carries you to your side of the bed, placing you down on the soft plush of the pillows and blankets. he pulls a fluffy blanket over your sleeping frame, kissing your forehead gently.

he slides underneath the covers, pulling you closer to him. he smiles softly as you lazily wrap your arms around his stomach, nuzzling into his chest. he'll stay there, even if he gets sick, he'll do anything to take care of you. <3

--

rahh!! NEUVILLETTE IS OUT RAAHHH ILL FINISH MY FIC WITH HIM SOON ITS LIK 50% DONE IN MY DRAFTS

#junesl1ght_ #genshin fanfic #female reader #male reader #gn reader #fluff #comfort fic #lyney x reader #lyney x gn reader #lyney fluff #genshin fluff

[emotionoitme]

if u want requests ive been thinking a lot about a roommate!au where reader catches carmen masturbating and offers to help him 🫣

YES HOT (with an extra twist)

he thought he would have enough time before she returned, cautiously eyeing the front door as it slammed shut. he slowly stands, the urge for relief scratching at him throughout the whole day.

it was hard being roommates with her.

not because she was messy, or late on rent, or any other common reason someone would be hard to live with. it was because he had a crush. a bad crush.

he obviously wasn’t blind—he thought she was attractive when they had met, but brushed the feeling away at the prospect of his chicago rent being split in half. his crush developed later, intertwined with intimate late night conversations, shared vulnerabilities, dinners together, watching her make her way to the bathroom scantily wrapped in a towel.

he found himself relentlessly teased by her presence, not being able to do anything about this affection he felt at the risk of losing her altogether.

carmen makes his way to his room, accidentally kicking the laundry basket he had left by his door. he frustratedly picks it up and dumps the laundry on his bed, preparing to fold it when he finds a garment he doesn’t recognize. a black lacy pair of panties, fabric small enough to make his face heat slightly.

it must’ve gotten mixed in with his clothes in the dryer, he thinks, picking them up with the intention of returning them, hesitating once he feels the material, running it between his fingers, feeling a twitch beneath his pants. he sits on the bed

it’s shameful, but he does it. wraps the underwear around his hand, shoves his pants down, begins to tease his growing cock, stroking so slowly, eyes closely fixated on the black lace rubbing against him. he imagines what she would look like in them, maybe how he would take them off of her, rutting into his hand, the tickling sensation of the fabric heightening his stimulation. he’s so entranced by the feeling and sight he doesn’t hear keys jingle, the front door swing open, his roommate reenter, in search of something she had left behind.

“carmy, have you seen my-” he hears a gasp, eyes snapping up to the door to see the subject of his fantasies right in front of him. the blood drains from his face, her eyes flickering down to his hand wrapped around his cock, the lace wrapped around his hand. he instinctively tries to cover himself.

“fuck, i-….it’s not-,” he stutters, at a loss for how to explain himself. his eyes dart back to her. she steps further into his room, closing the door. the look on her face surprised him, pupils blown and mouth slightly parted.

“are those mine?” she asks softly, walking closer to him. carmy’s heart pounds, unsure of what to expect from the encounter. he shamefully gives a small nod, thickly swallowing. the girl unexpectedly leans forward, puts her hands on his thighs and drops to her knees. the contact makes blood pulse through him in a rush. she draws her eyes to meet him, hand inching forward to untangle the lace from his fingers, brushing over the head of his cock, watching it twitch. she licks her lips, grabbing his length.

“i’ve been dreaming of this, you know,” she tells him before sinking her mouth onto him. the sentiment makes his head spin, holding onto her, gritting his teeth.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto headcannon

[luxthestrange]

WTDSIK Incorrect Quotes#34 Opera-sitting

Before you could seriously...injure the two demon men..Iruma woke up and managed to babble a phew words...stopping you in your tracks

Baby Iruma*Saw you and puffs his cheeks*N...NU! BU!

Baby Iruma*Patting Both Kalego and Balam's arms*AAEH EEP eeeEM!!

Y/n:...S-sweetie you can't keep them-

Baby Iruma*Pouts and shakes his head*AEEH EEP EEM!EEP EM!!

Y/n*Looking at the two demon men then at your son as you try to grab him but huddles closer to the two*Y-you can't keep them Iruma

Baby Iruma*Lips quiver as cheeks became redder his eyes getting teary*b-buh-

Kalego & Balam:!?!?

Y/n:!?!?!-okay-OKAY YOU CAN KEEP THEM!?!-

Opera*Who came in to make sure you didn't kill their kouhais,claps as they sees Iruma stand his ground*Excellent news, Now Iruma has two fathers, Lord Sullivan will be pleased...Why don't you three talk about it and I take Iruma-sama while you all properly meet*Grabs Iruma and holds him to their chest*

Y/n,Kalego & Balam:WHAAT!?!-*See that Opera run before any of them could retort*

-In the Sullivan Manor-

Baby Iruma*Happy squealing as he nuzzles into Opera's chest...given they always smells of snacks*OPEE!!!

Opera*taking the laundry out of the dryer with a baby Iruma on his chest*...*takes out a shirt and shacking the garment*

Baby Iruma*Giggling and sucking his thumb at the motion*

Opera*Bites lip to hold laughter and tries to do it again earning more giggles from the young human, chuckling at the contagious baby laugh*p-pfft~

Baby Iruma*laughs again clapping his hands at the clothes Opera takes out to shake in front of him, nuzzling into his cheek as Opera kisses his forehead*

Opera*Taking a breather till they grab the last item and shake it*

Baby Iruma*Gives him the biggest baby laugh ever as he losses it*

part 3 of:

#welcome to demon school x reader #welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun x reader #mairimashita! iruma kun #m!ik x reader #m!ik x y/n #m!ik #kalego x reader x balam #naberius kalego x reader #kalego x reader #naberius kalego #m!ik kalego #balam x reader #balam shichiro x reader #balam shichirou #m!ik opera x reader #m!ik opera #opera x reader #opera #baby iruma #suzuki iruma #iruma suzuki #wtdsik incorrect quotes #m!ik incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes

[idolatrybarbie]

machine wash warm

for my fifty follower celebration! @secretelephanttattoo asked: marcus pike and prompt no. seven— "did you just wash these sheets?" "i did." "they smell nice. and they're still warm." thank you, hope you enjoy!

rating & word count: 682 words | rated t

You haven’t really put a name to what this is… Marcus coming over, staying over. Spending the day in your queen sized bed, sleeping or wrapped equally between his arms and the sheets. He cooks you breakfast, he helps you clean. Late at night, when Marcus has drifted off beside you and your brain keeps you awake, you wonder what dirty trick the universe is going to pull to have this all turn sour.

The last thing you want is to break his heart. You’ve equated it in your head to kicking a puppy; unforgivable. But you aren’t quite ready to hand your heart over to Marcus for safekeeping. You tell him you just need a little while longer, promise. He always nods, smiling before he dives in for a kiss. 

This morning, you’re up and around the apartment, trying to get your chores done before the work week starts and throws you into a squall of assignments and paperwork. So far you’ve swept and mopped the kitchen, dusted the TV stand, and picked up your dry cleaning. Marcus was still sleeping when you left, face soft and eyes closed against the plush of his pillow. He’s truly gorgeous at all times, but when he’s sleeping especially.

He looks peaceful. That is all you ever want for him. It’s all he ever brings to you. Peace.

You can’t help but revel in it. After years of chasing the storm, or moreso being unwillingly pushed towards it, you love basking in the calm plainness of things. Onlookers would call it boring, a life spent blandly. You’ve had a lifetime’s worth of excitement; if peace is milquetoast, then so be it.

Carrying garment bags into the building lobby, you wait patiently for the elevator. Maybe you can drop these off and slip back out before Marcus wakes up, grabbing the two of you breakfast. He’s in love with the grimy little diner down the street and their six dollar breakfast. You’ve watched him eat it a half dozen times, and never is he less excited when the chain-smoking waitress arrives with his plate: pan-fried eggs, hash browns, and grease with a side of bacon.

The elevator ride is brief, the air of the metal box stale as you watch the floor numbers ascend above you. You stride down the hallway to your door quickly, turning your key in the lock before you let the door creak open softly. Everything is as you left it. The apartment sits quiet, the sun peering through the half open blinds in your living room.

You slip off your shoes at the front door. As you make your way further down the hall, you hear the dryer and its persistent thunk with every spin of the drum. That’s odd…

“Hey.”

You turn to see Marcus in the doorway of your bedroom, t-shirt riding up the slightest bit to reveal a dark brown happy trail. His voice is still thick with sleep, like greeting you is the first thing he’s used it for today.

You sigh lightly, smiling at him. “Hey yourself,” you say.

He lets you pass into your room. The bed is made, your pillows arranged in a vaguely heart-shaped form. You take a seat, stretching your hand across where Marcus has folded the flat sheet over the duvet.

"Did you just wash these sheets?"

"I did," Marcus confirms. He’s flipping through TV channels distractedly, surely trying to find the local news station.

"They smell nice,” you say. “And they're still warm."

He finds what he’s looking for, setting the volume low as a woman with the tallest hair you’ve ever seen starts on the morning weather update. Marcus drops the remote he’s holding to the bed, then moves to stand between your legs.

You reach up to grab at the soft collar of his shirt, pulling him down to you. He leans over you, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Good morning,” he says.

You bite his lip, pulling at it between your teeth. Marcus raises his brows suggestively, earning a laugh from you.

“It is, isn’t it?”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #secretelephanttattoo #pedrostories #50 followers

[neophele]

[16:49 PM] How You Make Me Feel - bf!Haechan x gn reader, fluff, humour, suggestive, 0.5k 

When the late afternoon rolled around and tiredness made comfort the priority over fashion, changing into an onesie was akin to the first meal after hours of starvation. It filled a hole, comfortable, warm, relaxed. And for you to show this side of yourself to your boyfriend, demonstrated 

“Don’t laugh at me!” You whined, Donghyuck’s delirious laughter ringing around the otherwise peaceful apartment. The clapping of his hands and the way he leaned so far back you almost worried he would topple over made up a characteristically high-spirited yet unexpected reaction that drew a pout across your face, indignation sinking in like the flush on your cheeks.

“I’m not laughing at you” He grins, staring at you from the where he stood over the sofa, you standing in the door frame sheepishly as he burst into another round of giggles. 

“You are!” You whine again, ready to sulk back to your room and get changed. 

“No, baby, no–” Donghyuck flings himself across the room, capturing you in an engulfing hug and burrowing his head into your neck. He breathed in deeply, admiring your natural scent that he always thought smelled like the feeling of a warm towel just out of the dryer or when he finally returned home after a long day. 

“You look cosy,” he smiles, placing a simple peck on your nose, which you scrunch in response, still feigning anger as he pulls himself close to your ear and whispers, gently and full of love, “you look like how you make me feel.” 

The additional statement sends a fleeting jolt of nerves through your heart and your head bundling into Donghyuck’s chest, trying to hide the bashful smile you can’t seem to contain. 

“Why are you laughing then, asshole,” you grit your teeth and pull back to look into his round eyes shining with adoration.

“Because you look so cute, what am I meant to do?” He coos, pinching one of your cheeks. 

“Tell me I look cute, not laugh at me!” You continue your indignant act, huffing as Donghyuck grabs your hand and leads you to the sofa, pulling you down next to him, so he can hold you firmly against his chest. 

“Why can’t I do both?” He nuzzles his head into your hair, breathing in your essence, wanting to share the same breaths that part your lips. His hand snakes down, tracing over your body, and you hum into his touch, contentedly relaxing into his arms, no longer able to pretend you hadn’t already got over it. “Oh–?”

When his hand skims over your ass, he pauses to let out the suggestive interjection, toying with the buttons of the onesie. He lips his licks as you look up at him, and he pulls you slightly closer, fidgeting to create some friction between your bodies. 

“Donghyuck!” You tense up when you realise what he’s doing, smacking his wandering hands that had begun an attempt at to unbuttoning the garment. 

“What?” He whines, pout full on his lips and eyes looking at you as if you’d taken candy from a baby. “It’s too easy to get to you, what else is it there for?” 

“You are not fucking me while I’m wearing this onesie!” 

#nct dream #nct dream fluff #nct dream timestamps #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan timestamps #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck x reader #lee haechan #lee donghyuck

[heich0e]

know you now kuroo tetsuro/f!reader (haikyuu!!) tags: mind rotting fluff, borderline unreadable, reader went to high school in america, established relationship a/n: did i write this because I put my prom dress on last night while I was wearing a facemask? perhapsibly

9:07 PM: What are you up to?

The text message pings through as you shove three pairs of colourful socks into your overflowing sock drawer, nudging it closed forcefully with your hip. You brush your hair out of your eyes and reach for the device.

‘Almost done putting away my laundry and about to put on a facemask!’ you type out a reply.

9:08 PM: Without me? :(

‘You’re still at work Tetsu’ you snort, hitting send. ‘My pores can’t wait for whatever overtime you’re putting in AGAIN’ You send the second message after tacking on your oft-used clown emoji, dropping your phone at the end of your bed.

You shuffle into the washroom just outside your bedroom, fishing a nearly empty tube of clay-based facemask from the second drawer from the top where you keep your skincare. You squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers and then smear the cool green paste over your skin.

You pad back out to your bedroom once every inch of your chin, forehead and cheeks are coated in the rapidly drying mask, noticing a sweater you’d forgotten to hang up at the end of your bed. You pluck it up and carry it over to the closet, door still left ajar, and tuck it inside.

A flash of gauzy red fabric at the back of your closet catches your eye.

You stretch deep into the depths until you reach the very end of the clothing rack, wrapping your hands around the last hanger to pull it out.

Your prom dress.

You run your fingers over it as you hold it up in front of you, flashbacks to a prom night so many years ago playing in your mind. It was relatively unspectacular--not anywhere near the teen rom-com movie moment you may have hoped it would be. You're not even sure why you'd dragged it all the way back to Japan with you when your family moved home the summer after you graduated, when your father's job had relocated him back to the country where you'd grown up, nor are you certain why you'd bothered to bring it to your own apartment once you’d moved out. 

It's just a dress. A slightly garish, excessively formal dress, but still just a dress.

You distantly wonder if it still fits. 

You carefully peel off the comfortable clothes you’d spent the day doing chores in, mindful of the clay mask drying to your face, kicking them off to the side with your sock-clad feet. You then pull the dress on with an equal cautiousness. 

It fits, but it’s a little tight. Your body has changed since your youth, unsurprisingly, but the zipper pulls up after a bit of encouragement. You breathe out and feel the way the material pulls tight around your ribs, but otherwise it fits the same way you remember.

Outside your bedroom, the timer dings on your dryer. You shuffle out and pull the warm laundry (just a load of towels) into the laundry basket waiting in front of the machine, toting it into your living room where you plan to fold them. The cold beer you’d cracked not long prior is still waiting, mostly-full, on the table. 

So you sit watching TV, sipping beer, folding towels, wearing a facemask, in your prom dress. 

Being an adult is so weird. 

Six towels and half-a-beer in, your front door opens and you look up in surprise.

Your boyfriend stands in the genkan, frozen with one shoe half-toed off, staring at you with an equally surprised look on his face. 

His eyes are glued to the red garment wrapped around your frame.

He drops his backpack at his feet.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Tetsu, what are you doing here?” you ask, ignoring his question in favour of one of your own, standing up with an unfolded towel in your hands, trying to hide behind the cotton terry-cloth.

“I texted you," he says as he steps a little further into your apartment, setting his spare key down on the table in the entryway. "The meeting ended early and I didn’t go out drinking with them. I let you know I was on my way,” he says slowly, almost a bit sheepishly. 

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. “I, uh, left my phone in my room.”

“So,”--Kuroo's eyes flitter down to your dress, waving his hands in your general direction--“big plans tonight that I should know about?”

“It’s my prom dress,” you say, as though that explains anything. 

“Prom dress?”

“Uh, at the end of high school we had a big dance for everyone graduating,"--you pinch the bridge of your nose with one hand, realizing belatedly you still have a facemask on. "We all wore fancy dresses and suits and ate a mediocre meal and then danced a bit while our teachers watched and then got drunk in fields on liquor we stole from our parents at the afterparty,” you explain, on the wrong side of rambling, gesticulating vaguely with the hand that has faskmask on the tips of your fingers, “so, uh… yeah. Prom.”

“America is so weird," Tetsuro murmurs, scrunching up his face.

You laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“Why do you still have it?” he asks curiously, taking another step into the room towards you.

“I dunno,” you say as your cheeks flush hot. “I guess I brought it with me when I moved because I thought I might have somewhere else to wear it? Which is ridiculous looking at this thing now.” You fiddle absentmindedly with the skirt, accidentally wiping some of the facemask into the material.

“I think it’s pretty.” Tetsuro says, taking the towel from your hands. He cleans the half-dried clay mask from your hand, and then wipes off the bit that had transferred to your skirt. He sets the towel down on the arm of your sofa, turning back to you.

You watch raptly as he surveys the dress, reaching up and running this fingers across the beading at your diaphragm like he can’t resist, tracing it with the tip of his index finger. He peeks at you through his lashes.

“Red was my school colour, y’know.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

It's quiet for a long moment, but from the corner of your gaze you spot the time on your stove clock. 

“I need to wash my facemask off,” you say quietly. 

Kuroo hums, stepping back, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks as if to shackle them.

You pick up the material of your skirt and scurry off to the washroom, quickly scrubbing the dried clay from your hot face. Once your skin is clean, you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you dry the lingering dampness from your cheeks. Your hair is pinned up messily, your skin dewy and freshly washed.

The bright red dress on your body is a stark contrast to your naked face.

You feel silly.

You aren't sure what possessed you to put the damn thing on, but you swear to bring the garment to a second hand donation bin as soon as you possibly can. You reach behind you and grasp for the zipper, tugging it down.

It stops halfway.

Stuck. 

You meekly shuffle back out to the kitchen where Kuroo is getting a beer from your fridge.

“Tetsu,” you murmur, and he stands up from behind the fridge door quickly at the sound of your voice. You turn your half-exposed back to him. “Can you help me?”

He sets his can of beer aside on the counter and steps up to you. His tie had been loosened in the time you'd been gone washing your face.

You face forward, trying not to shiver as his fingers ghost across your shoulder blades, and then down your spine. 

He swiftly zips it up.

“No, I mean’t unzip it,” you say, tone almost plaintive.

“I know what you meant,” he whispers, and suddenly you realize he's much closer than you'd expected--his voice practically in your ear. Tetsuro presses a kiss to your shoulder, then the curve of your neck. “I just wanna admire you for a little bit longer.”

Slowly, you turn in his hold. 

His cheeks are redder than his tie and your dress put together.

“You’re so weird,” you murmur lovingly.

“You’re not wrong,” he replies with a lopsided, toothy grin. 

He pulls you into his arms.

“So did you have a prom date?” he asks as he sways you lightly from side to side, not quite a dance but close to it. His fingers trace down the back of your dress.

You hum affirmatively. “Just some guy in my year. He didn’t dance with me once all night. Said it was lame.”

Your boyfriend clicks his tongue. “His loss.”

“It wasn’t so bad, though,” you say with a smile that you bury against his chest, reflecting on the memory. “I just danced with my friends.”

Tetsuro is moving you a little more surely now, stepping this way and that in time with the swaying of your bodies. You let him guide you around in a dance with no tempo.

“So you had fun?” he asks softly, his lips just by your ear. 

“I did,” you agree, equally quietly. One of his hands finds yours where it rests against his chest, bringing it up to his mouth to brush his lips agains the back of your knuckles before twining your fingers together. 

“I wish I had known you back then," he says, spinning you gently. Your head is already swimming without the added twirl.

“You know me now,” you reply as he pulls you back to him, cradling your frame against his. 

Tetsuro laughs, and it almost sounds a little choked up.

He holds you closer.

“Yeah,” he breathes, soft and devoted. “I do.”

The two of you keep dancing in your kitchen, socked feet on tiled floor. He's dressed in his work suit, creased after a long day at the office, and you in the prom dress you don’t know why you’ve kept this long. There’s no music, just the background noise of whatever television show you’d abandoned in the living room that paints the room in light that flickers as the scenes change. Your clean towels are still left unfolded on the sofa, and there are droplets of condensation slipping down the sides of your respective beer cans as they rest unfinished.

There’s no twinkly lights, no top 100s love songs blaring, no clammy hands or adolescent nerves or hesitation.

It’s just the two of you, as you are.

It’s better than any prom could ever be.

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

[dirtbag-linecook-kyloren]

I read a fic where Kylo as a fashion designer and that’s valid but I think it shows a lack of awareness for how fuckin tedious sewing is

like I have been working on a skirt today and I’ve spent most of my day while doing it measuring and cutting and doing math and trying to get my tension right

so imagine, if you will, a project runway-esque competition.

like Hux does his own sewing machine maintenance, oils that thing on a clear schedule and cleans the thread debris out once a week from his bobbin area where all that shit builds up like dryer lint

and so he watches kylo bullshit his way through projects on *vibes* and he’s guessing every time they go to the fabric store and he picks out thread and grabs the wrong type half the time, but it still works?

so while hux is out here making incredibly technical garments with perfectly finished edges and pockets and neat hems, kylo is draping some bullshit together and then putting a lace on it and the judges eat it up and Hux can’t fucking stand it

I literally have five au outlines open on my other screen I s2g I do not have time for another but here I am starting another google doc

#kylux #kylux au #i watched so much project runway with my mom as a kid this was always my destiny

[lovelyrocker]

Pink Hoodie

RPF

Warnings: Guilt

Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader

Pairings: Timothee x Reader

Word Count: 661

Timothee walked into his shared apartment. His girlfriend of eight months and he had just moved in together a month ago. They were still adjusting to things together. She went from living in a small studio apartment to a spacious two bedroom. Sure they;d sent a lot of time at one other’s place before but this was new. It was adjusting to shared meals everyday. Shared bathroom habits and shared laundry, things that despite being together eight months they’d not done yet. It was new and exciting to them.

Timothee got home from basketball with friends and to his surprise his beloved girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. He called her name and heard nothing. She hadn’t texted or called telling him she was running out for anything and there was no note left on the counter or fridge. He saw her bag still sitting on the kitchen table and her favorite pair of shoes still next to the door. 

“Y/N?!” He called again.

He started walking through the apartment actively looking for her. After several long minutes of searching he finds her standing in the laundry room with tears in her eyes and his favorite hoodie in her hands. He notices his hoodie isn’t the pristine white it usually is. It was a faded pink color. 

“Baby?” He walked in, still unsure what was going on.

“I am so sorry.” She told him adamantly.

“What’s wrong?” He stepped closer. “What happened?” He asked worriedly, seeing the tears. 

“I ruined your hoodie.” Her voice was panicked and sad.

“What?” He looked down in confusion.

 “I didn’t mean to! A colored sock must have gotten into the wash! It was an accident!” She said hurriedly as he took the garment into his hands, inspecting the newly dyed fabric. “I’ll get you a new one! I’ll replace it!”

“Oh, baby.” He tossed the hoodie on top of the dryer and pulled her into his arms. “It’s okay.”

“What?” She pulled away and looked up at him. “Tim, no it’s not okay!”

“Yes it is.” He chuckled. “It’s just a hoodie.”

“A $480 hoodie!”

“So.” He smiled, pulling her back into his arms. “It was a mistake, it happens.”

“An almost $500 mistake, Tim!”

“Babe, It’s just clothes.” He rested his forearms on her shoulders as he spoke to her. “I can get another one if I want. It’s not life or death. It’s a material thing.”

“But-” She began but he stopped her. 

“No. It’s not that serious.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “When I was 13 I bleached my dad’s black lucky black slacks right before he was supposed to leave for a big meeting. You know what he did?” She raised her brows in question. “Not a damn thing. Because he knew I was just trying to help. Just like I know you were just trying to make sure I had my favorite hoodie clean for my trip in two days.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “It’s okay.” He reached, grabbing the hoodie. “Besides, it doesn’t even look bad. And pink it in right now, so this works.” He told her, looking over the hoodie again. “Also, I just so happen to look good in pink.” He smiled down at her and she gave a gentle smile up at him.

“You do look good in pink.” She tells him, wiping her eyes.

Timothee places his index finger beneath her chin, tilting her face upward to look at him. He places soft kisses across her tear stained face and then to her lips. 

Several days later Y/N was sitting on the couch watching some entertainment news show as background noise while working on her computer. Hearing Timothee’s name she looked up at the television, seeing him getting photographed in Paris by the paparazzi. She smiled and let out a little laugh seeing him in the pink hoodie she dyed accidentally just a few days before. 

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothée #chalamet #timothee #rpf #reader insert #pink #hoodie #ink hoodie

[ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm]

the soft animal of your body

this is extremely niche but i recently rewatched okja and i wanted to read something about jay, just jay, being by himself. be kind to the soft animal of your body. i realize that this isn't even a thing that has a fandom and that exactly no one except me is actually expecting to see this right now but i just wanted to make something nice for this character because i think he deserves it

Also on A03

Jay only owns two suits. It’s not out of some ascetic self-sacrificing practice - the ALF just requires them to carry around so much gear and so many highly specialized single purpose garments and disguises that it's simply more practical this way. He always gets the suits dry cleaned, by whatever mom-and-pop establishment he can find in whatever city he's in - but the shirts he washes by himself. And so it's Saturday night and Jay is at a laundromat in Evora, Portugal. Self-service, eight Euro for a small load of laundry and he's completely by himself. There's a bright, happy decal with instructions and rules over the wall of washers and dryers. There's a stack of reusable plastic bins by his feet. He briefly considers turning them upside down and resting his feet on them, but even in the quiet empty space, it feels rude, tap tap.

It's not some great mystery like others might think. He's not secretly rich, he doesn't think he's some Bruce Wayne type hero - he finds those films revolting anyway, all that senseless carnage, although he's grateful for the people who make them and hopes all their families are well, tap tap. Jay wears a suit because he’s a delegate of mankind, in his work, and it only feels right to show up looking the part. It’s not that he’s ever found people in suits particularly comforting - his father never wore one, Jay may not have even owned one when he was small, but something about it felt right. Other people trusted men in suits, maybe not in their heart of hearts but in some learned, practiced way, like how people force themselves to like beer or go kayaking. There was a learned component to humanity that had nothing to do with being human, Jay’s always thought, and it’s shocking how much of the world that component governs. So when Jay shows up at Swiss banks and NATO meetings and makes his way through private facilities, no one bats an eye. But when he shows up in small villages, in ravaged cities where the source of suffering can clearly be traced to someone at a very real and solid desk, he sees the people he encounters fight actively against their nature through to the schema in their brain that tells them to trust his tie and his cufflinks and his shiny, polished shoes. It makes him sick, sometimes, not because of their initial disgust, but because of how them fighting against it might be used by someone other than him.

All the buildings in this little town are yellow or white. Jay likes colourful things, he finds them more soothing than neutrals with a pop of something bright. For as long as he could remember, color in an otherwise dull space has seemed like danger - a patch of blood on the arctic snow-bed, the black void of an oil slick on a shining sea. The air in the laundromat smells floral with a hint of mildew. He uncrosses his ankles and stands up, hovers in the narrow space between the plastic chair and the washing machine. Jay doesn’t carry a watch, that always seemed like a nasty habit. The washing machine beeps and its steel door swings open. He transfers the wet shirts to the dryer and retrieves more coins from the little dispenser built into the wall. The drying is his favorite part.

Jay's favorite sensation when he was a child was burying his face in the crook of his mother's arm, nose and eyelids pressed right into the bend of her elbow. It was the only time he remembered he was a mammal. There is something about softness that is intrinsically mammalian, the quickest path back to baseline. So much of the world, it seemed to Jay, was the opposite of soft - its problems, its rules and, most tragically, its solutions. See, after a long and sunny early childhood, something suddenly happened inside Jay, a switch flipped or a valve tightened and out of nowhere, he was constantly upset. He couldn't sleep through the night alone, he couldn't get through a school day without calling home. It felt like some innate sense of safety had been entirely extracted from him. His father would nap peacefully on the couch and Jay would stand there and make sure that he was breathing. He would redraw all possible routes home in his mind. He would double knot his shoe strings and keep food stashed by his bed. For the first few months, he was met with sweet understanding and concern, at least at home. He was allowed to sleep in his parents' bedrooms, in each of their beds whenever he liked, or on in a pinch could ask one of them to sleep on the cot by his bed, pinky fingers linked in the crevasse between them, all monsters be damned. When he slept with his mom she would hold him tight and he would press his face into the soft skin of her arm and somehow that ever present dread would completely dissolve. But in the morning the feeling would return, and it gradually became unbecoming for a nine year old boy to do the things they'd agreed to let him do. They took him to bleak waiting rooms to talk privately with kind but detached strangers, who later prescribed pills to be taken daily. He didn’t like swallowing them, couldn’t do it without throwing his head back like a lion.

Jay doesn’t bring his iPad with him when he’s not on a mission. To avoid being tracked, the ALF don’t carry phones - they just have pre-arranged meeting spots and safe houses and there’s no need to keep tabs on anyone. That’s the beauty of doing something out of love and honor, you don’t have to worry about people slacking on the job. Evora is famous for its university and its slaughterhouses. It’s a warm autumn evening and every so often, a giggling group of students dressed in formal robes runs past, presumably on their way to some odd social function. Earlier outside the city walls, while they were scoping out the entry points into the main meatpacking plant, Jay saw a group of those oddly dressed students shouting at a group of young people in their underwear in a park. One by one, the under-dressed students would drop to the soft, damp ground, face first, while loud, jaunty music played from some tinny cell-phone speaker nearby. It was odd, but no one seemed to be distressed - under their serious facade, there was an energy to both those hazing and those being hazed that seemed like they were enjoying themselves. Thinking back on it now, it seems to Jay that it might be because neither party was really on the opposite side of each other - perhaps the ones in uniform had had that done to them before, perhaps the new ones would have the chance to do it to someone down the line. Power never really was a ladder, it’s almost always a cycle, things always revert to their true form in the end. Jay crosses his ankles neatly and studies the lint collected at the edge of the wall. It probably had microorganisms living in it, fruitful in the warm damp heat. Maybe they’re friends with the mold. Tap tap.

Despite their rounded edges, the pills they’d prescribed him did not feel like a soft solution. At least, no more than a heartfelt conversation that involved only one heart being bared. He was grateful, of course, because the care and kindness of his parents and teachers and doctors led them to want to solve this constant feeling that he had inside, but it didn't seem like anyone was actually hearing him - or worse, that they were, but that there was nothing anyone could do about it. That a feeling could never be un-felt, a seed un-planted without damage. As the years went on, the feeling settled and clarified from a general sense of dread into something specific, something sharp that pierced right through Jay's soft mammalian heart: pain, like a search light sweeping over the world. The whole world was in pain. And Jay, like a radio locked into a frequency, could feel it from all sides rushing right into his chest.

Beep beep. The sound of the dryer coming to a stop doesn’t echo in the small room, it seems to get sucked into the wall. Jay once heard a physicist say that no sound is ever truly gone. He punctuated this statement with a clap that swirled and echoed all around them. The particles that move to produce the sound we hear, the man said, would reverberate for as long as there was space and time, growing more silent but never truly fading. That’s how we know the past happened. It made Jay feel like he was floating. Beep beep. Jay opens the dryer, the warm air and puff of industrial strength detergent rushing out to greet him like a friend. He reaches in, touches the warm bundle of fabric. He has to shake the shirts out soon, to prevent them creasing. Looking put together is part of the facade. The white shirt seems so stark against his hands in the dark drum of the dryer, but there’s color there too, from the little blue shadows in the wrinkles to the warm light bouncing off the window from the street. In a few hours they’re going to load 500 Alentejano pigs onto trucks and sneak them out under the cover of night. He didn’t get to meet them earlier, but he could hear them through the wall of the tunnel they had found leading to the sty. He picks up the soft fabric, glances out the window.  The light flickers for a millisecond and it’s either the power or his iron deficiency. His breath hitches, just for a moment, but he's steady on his feet. He can hear cars in the distance, heavy trucks on the highway and people going somewhere far or near or nowhere in particular at all. 

Then he lifts up the shirt and buries his face in it. It's soft and for a moment, he doesn't hear anything at all.

#okja #jay okja #paul dano #danonation #jay #joyful fic

[20dollarlolita]

Since ur talking about prewashing I gotta question for the blog: got any tips for drying after prewashing so I don't have to iron the entire yardage after I wash it bc it's now horribly wrinkly?

I'm horrible and usually don't prewash, mostly bc I can't stand ironing all of my now extremely wrinkly fabric, vs ironing a few creases from being folded *after* I've cut the pieces out for my garment, therefore having to iron much less overall.

I don't stick it in the dryer at all. I take it out of the wash and then iron it with a dry iron until the fabric is dry. Once I bought 12 yards of poplin and thought I would be ironing for like a year, but eventually there was an end to the poplinn-y expanse.

My main thing is that I throw it in the wash immediately after getting home from shopping, so I don't have the temptation to just sew with it unwashed. I don't allow myself to have that option. (This is also why I don't finish the edges before I wash them). I also like to cut with right sides together, and most places wrap the fabric with wrong sides together, so washing and ironing it makes me do that, too.

Also my Green Store training has taught me that old ladies will wipe boogers on everything and think no one notices (I notice) so you need to just remember that everything in that store is disgusting and should be washed before it becomes anything great.

#ask #lolita laundry #prewashing

[jamiewintons]

A Pleasant Surprise (Jamie Winton/F!Reader)

Summary: You decide to surprise Jamie when he gets home from work, by wearing his hoodie and not much else.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Fingering. Kitchen Counter S*x.

A/N: This was prompted by an anonymous prompt sent to me a while ago which was: 'For the smut prompt "Are you trying to seduce me?" if you are comfortable with it. With Jamie?'. I'm sorry it took so long, anon, but it ended up much longer than intended so I hope that makes up for it!

Word Count: 1441

***

It was your day off today, and you were beginning to get bored. You'd done everything you'd planned on doing; you went out for coffee with some friends, you'd done a bit of shopping, and you'd caught up on some TV shows you hadn't had time to watch for a while. Hell, you even got so bored at one point that you decided to do laundry!

After the laundry was all washed and dried, you began neatly folding and hanging everything. One garment happened to catch your eye - Jamie's favourite red hoodie, which he pretty much always wore on days when he wasn't at work. No matter how many times it had been through the wash, it still somehow managed to smell like him.

At first, you'd just put the hoodie on innocently. You liked that it smelt like Jamie and that it was so nice and warm from being in the dryer. But that was the moment that an idea sparked in your mind. Your eyes went to the clock for a second - it was only about ten minutes until Jamie would be home, plenty of time to get ready - and immediately, you got to work. The rest of the folding could wait.

You raced to the bedroom, quickly undressing until you were down to your underwear. Then you put Jamie's hoodie back on, zipping it up just enough so that he would have a perfect view of your cleavage. You spent a few minutes fixing your hair, making sure it looked right, when you heard Jamie's car pull up in the driveway. A smile found its way onto your face, as excitement and anticipation filled you.

Casually, you walked out into the living room, waiting for the sound of the front door opening. When you heard it, you lay down on the sofa, smirking to yourself.

"Y/N, I'm home!" Jamie called out, carefully shutting the door behind him. You sat up, peeking over the back of the sofa to look at him, watching him take off his jacket and loosen his tie a little. God, he looked hot like that.

"Hey, babe! How was work?" you asked, trying your best to hide the excitement in your voice.

"Oh, same old. Nothing too interesting." Jamie had moved into the kitchen, and you took that moment to stand up from the sofa and make your way toward there as well. You didn't reveal yourself yet, instead standing just outside the room. "What about you? How was your day off?"

"It was very nice, actually. I had coffee with some friends, watched some TV, did some laundry..." You leaned against the wall, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. "But really, I'm just glad you're home."

You could hear the smile in Jamie's voice as he responded. "I'm glad to be home too." He moved over to the refrigerator, opening it up and inspecting its contents. "What would you like for dinner? Maybe I could do–"

Now, you stepped into the kitchen, a devilish smirk gracing your lips. Jamie was still completely clueless. "Actually, I think we should order in. I have a feeling that neither of us is going to feel up to cooking."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Jamie. Turn around."

Jamie did as he was told, and when he set his eyes on you, all thoughts seemed to leave his mind. He simply stared at you, his eyes wide and his cheeks going pink. He was so out of it, you even had to walk over and close the fridge door for him before he let all of the cold air out.

You couldn't help but giggle at his expression as you walked over towards him, placing a hand on his chest and looking up into his eyes. You could feel his heart racing beneath your palm.

After a few moments of mere staring and appreciation, Jamie finally broke the silence, his voice strained. "A-are you trying to seduce me?" he asked, unable to keep his eyes off you.

"What gave it away?" The fact that he had even needed to ask somehow – you thought you were making your intentions quite obvious – made you want him more, and you decided to not waste any more time. Your hand took hold of his tie, taking a moment and raising your eyebrows at him, before using it to gently pull him down into a kiss.

Jamie's hands immediately came to cup your face, deepening the kiss. You began to undo his tie but eventually gave up, it was too difficult to focus when one of Jamie's hands left your cheek and started to trail downwards, settling at your lower back to bring you even closer to him. Already, you were able to feel the evidence of how much you had affected him.

You were so caught up that you didn't notice Jamie moving you over to the kitchen counter, and you only realised what he was doing once you had been placed on top of it. His lips were on your neck now, and one hand was slowly trailing up your thigh.

Once Jamie reached your underwear, he stopped kissing you, pulling back slightly and looking into your eyes. His own pupils were blown out with desire and yours probably were the same. "Can I?" he asked, breathless, and you nodded, enthusiastic and impatient for him to continue.

He dipped his hand into your panties, making you gasp when you felt his fingers brush against your clit. For a moment he stayed right there, moving the digits in gentle circles before they travelled lower, teasing at your entrance.

Jamie didn't have the patience at the moment to tease for very long, and soon he had carefully slipped one finger inside of you, having to bite back a moan at how warm and wet you were. His mind couldn't help but wander to how much he'd like to be inside of you right now, but he wasn't the type to start a job he wasn't going to finish, and once you were ready, a second finger joined his first.

You gasped again as Jamie steadily began to move, crooking his fingers so they pressed against your sweet spot. You grabbed onto his shirt to urge him to go faster, and he did, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit and increasing your pleasure tenfold.

Shutting your eyes tightly, you moaned Jamie's name out loud, your voice shuddering as you struggled to think clearly. He'd always been so good at this, and he had only improved with practice, so it didn't take you long to begin approaching your end. You whined in a particular way, a way that let Jamie know that you were close, and he sped up his movements again, and it only took a few more strokes before you were tumbling over the edge, nearly sobbing in pleasure.

As soon as he knew you were coming, Jamie's lips were on yours, swallowing your moans and keeping them from being heard by anyone who might have happened to walk past the house. Your hands grabbed at his back, your fingernails digging into him to the point that you were sure it would have to hurt, but he didn't seem to be bothered by it.

Jamie continued until you were completely spent, going limp and almost smacking your head against the wall behind you. Thankfully, he was quick enough to prevent that, using his free hand to steady you and keep you upright.

"Holy shit," you said, more to yourself than anything, tipping forward a little so you were leaning against Jamie, who was breathing just as heavily as you were.

"My hoodie, it... it really suits you," Jamie told you, once he'd caught his breath and withdrawn his fingers from you. You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"I thought you might like it." Now at least somewhat recovered, you wrapped your legs around Jamie's waist, pulling him close. You could feel he was hard through his trousers, and you moved yourself against him, tearing a moan from him.

"I... I think we should probably move this to our room," Jamie suggested, struggling to get the words out. "Dave could be home any moment now, and I don't want him walking in on this."

You agreed, and the two of you rushed towards your bedroom, Jamie locking the door behind you as soon as you were both inside. He turned towards you, where you were now kneeling down on the bed, and you began to unzip the hoodie, slowly and deliberately.

"No," he said. "Keep it on."

Requests for fics/drabbles, headcanons, and character preferences are currently OPEN!

#jamie winton x reader #jamie winton imagine #jamie winton fluff #jamie winton smut #jamie winton fanfiction #ymata imagine #you me and the apocalypse imagine #ymata fanfiction #you me and the apocalypse fanfiction #x reader smut #x reader fic #x reader fanfiction #mari's stuff #nsft text

[snowyycones]

S12, E1

"Would you like to try again?"

it's about time i officially posted this little one-shot I wrote! Have fun with this angsty alternate universe where the WORST happens! Takes place right after the Never Realm :) have fun!

-

He should've let them execute him.

That's what Zane thought at least.

Coming back to Ninjago was not the prize the others thought it would be. How was he supposed to adapt to this, after decades of isolation and cold?

His eyes glanced up to the mirror, a tired look seeming permanent on his face, was he sure if the frost around his eyes was really gone? He found himself checking again— not entirely sure— he wanted no trace of that time now.

Of course, that was an impossible wish of his. He realized that now as his eyes naturally glided down to look at his gi, his blood-stained, frost-bitten gi.

A cringe made it's way onto his features, remembering what caused such a display of red on his, originally, immaculate and white get-up.

"She was so young.."

As he slid off the clothing, he mourned. He mourned the loss of Akita, and the loss of himself. A piece of him was left in the Never Realm, and he would never get it back, that was certain now.

When he realized tears were threatening to breach his eyes, he shook his head, shaking away the thoughts with it. "I should try and wash this." He whispered to no one in particular, no one would be up this late.. or was it early now? The nindroid couldn't tell anymore— his internal clock was ruined by his constant sleeping for decades on end— but he hasn't bothered to ask Jay to fix it just yet.

The sound of Zane's stepping seemed to echo throughout the monastery's halls. Did it get colder? His right hand fidgeted for something to hold— but no— it is gone now, Zane.

Upon entering the laundry room, he sighed softly, setting down the now red garment upon the dryer. The red was becoming a brown now, becoming old. His fingers ran across the stain, almost expecting it to still be wet and warm.

He tried the washer first, using his own personal detergent, which he only ever really used on white clothing.

Of course, it was dried blood, he didn't have much luck. He furrowed his eyebrows as he noticed it had only slightly faded, gripping the wet fabric with frustration.

With a deep breath, Zane set it down, starting the task of hand washing it instead.

He watched the tap in the sink run, the sound of water hitting metal being the only thing he could hear. It roared in his ears, his body shuddering. Zane could feel the heat radiating off of the water, steam rising from the surface.

Plunging the mess of fabric into the sink, he felt the heat engulf his hands and arms as well. He didn't like warmth anymore, it was like instinct, it made him fearful.

The ice ninja flinched back, out of of the water, staring down at his hands. Frost immediately began to form around where the water once was. . . Zane didn't like that.

Despite his fears, he dipped his arms back into the water, grabbing the gi. The android poured soap, detergent, whatever he could think of onto the cloth, grabbing something to scrub it with. This was fine, it would come out, right?

He could never be more wrong.

Zane was scrubbing with vigor now, watching as only little bits washed out, staining the water a gentle red. It was overwhelming, it was loud, it was roaring in his ears. Was the tap still running? Was she still before him, begging for his mercy?

He didn't know, he didn't know anything anymore.

Hot tears sizzled against his cold metal plating, dripping down into the water. Water was sloshing onto the floor as his movements became more desperate, mind clouding with fear. The white ninja.. the titanium ninja— it was all gone— what did he even stand for now? Zane was made to protect, but now look what he's done.

Look what you've done, Zane.

Throwing the brush onto the floor, the robot brought the gi to his face, crying into it desperately. Why wouldn't it come out? Why wouldn't this leave him?

His arms drew back, allowing him to look at the garment now. The red had faded... and was now slightly resembled a pinkish hue.

Zane laughed at that, a sad, broken laugh. He couldn't help it. At the same time, though, it felt like it was mocking him. More chuckles escaped him— shoulders shaking as the laughs slowly turned into sobs— painful, pitiful sobs.

"The pink ninja! Hah! Funny, isn't it?"

Cole wraps his arms around him.

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago zane #zane ninjago #ninjago cole #cole ninjago #hes there at the end #ninjago angst #ninjago au #ninjago fanfiction #oneshot #angst #hurt with very little comfort