#unnecessary housekeeping

[prokopetz]

My secret to actually finishing publishing projects is that when I don't feel like working on them, I procrastinate by pissing around with the innumerable tiny housekeeping tasks associated with the project that would otherwise bring things to a crashing halt at the 99% mark, so that when I eventually do get to the 99% mark, they're already done.

Like, you don't feel like actually writing the thing?

Screw around with the layout and formatting of your credits and copyright notices page.

Put together a spec for an illustration you imagine you might one day commission, if you ever find yourself in possession of a budget.

Fire up your graphic design software and compose a completely unnecessary diagram or visual aid.

Tinker with the wording of the promotional blurb on the itch.io page you set up in a previous bout of procrastination even though the product doesn't actually exist yet.

Any non-trivial publishing project has a billion peripheral little tasks that need taking care of, most of them sufficiently small and sufficiently different from Writing The Thing that you can probably convince your brain that doing them when you "should" be writing counts as procrastinating – and that list may look a lot less intimidating when it's framed less as "a billion things I Have To Do" and more as "a billion things I can distract myself with to avoid actually writing".

#life #work #writing #publishing #swearing

[keeksandgigz]

Chapter 1: Les Usurpateurs

Part 1 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Somewhere in Northern Italy, 1983

cw: ~3k words, no smut (yet), EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!, a lot of unnecessary description for the vibes, reader is a bit of a cunt

notes: I'm back (I think)

Despite the lack of smut in this chapter, this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

There was something of a quiet intimacy in hearing the summer sparrows in the morning. Nothing but the gentle hum and chirp buried in the ripe peach trees. Thus marking the beginning of your yearly summer stay in Italy, of doing nothing but lounge around and savor the crickets at night, lying down on the couch of the villa your mother had inherited from her great grandparents. 

What you liked about your summers in Italy was that time seemed to go slower, at your leisure, spending it between the lake with your friends, the town just a short bike ride away or staying home buried in the pile of books you had brought over just to keep in your room, a bit overgrown, but unable to make it “too yours” because of the guests you’d have to concede your room to a mere four weeks after your arrival at the villa. 

Every summer, your father would host literature and art history students at the villa, aspiring professors, authors, archeologists, to help with their dissertations. They’d come with their american ways, obnoxiously disturbing the peace that you had created for yourself in the idyllic world you’d surrounded yourself into. Like that was a different astral plane you’d projected into, with the same friends as always, the same views, the same places to go. A different guest you’d have to surrender your room to for ten weeks, while you were banished to the communicating room, divided only by a shared bathroom. A small twin bed, an old desk and chair, a big enough window to let a good amount of light in, so you don’t suffocate and turn into a vampire. You despised that room. 

They always arrived on the first day of July, when the weather seemed to turn from needing a light pair of jeans in the evening  to clothes being unbearable. If you were in your room you’d limit yourself to a long enough shirt to keep you decent for the ghosts in the villa. There were no ghosts, but Giovanna, the housekeeper, would pop in from time to time to drop off your clothes– washed, ironed and folded. They smelled like citrus. 

You were reading The Count of Monte Cristo when the guest arrived. The rippling sounds of the gravel under the heavy tires of the car sounding like an alarm. You placed your book face down on the page you had been reading and ran to the window. Curious to see what the tide had brought this year. Maybe someone whose English wasn’t very good. Or some lunatic who could only stay inside because of his pollen allergy. You wondered what they would have looked like. Tall? Ugly? Obnoxious in the sense where you could hear them play shuffle and slam and bang doors and cabinets and drawers in the morning when getting ready? 

The car came to a stop in front of the door, right under the window of your room. The driver’s door opened, Giuseppe, the groundskeeper of the villa went around to open the trunk. Your heart thumped as you saw the passenger door open. It was a man. He was wearing a pair of white linen shorts, a blue flouncy short sleeve button- up shirt and gold- rimmed glasses. He pushed them up as he placed two hands on his hips, quickly removing one in favor of running his hands through his hair, styled and coiffed like he had not just come off an eight- hour flight. 

“You must be…” You’d heard your father say, placing a finger on his bearded chin, the name of the boy must have slipped him. 

“Steve. Piacere” the boy said, in an Americanized Italian, sounding like he had a hot potato in his mouth. 

“Ah! Steve, Benvenuto” your father said, bidding his welcome and shaking the boy’s hand. Your mother extended a delicate hand as well, introducing herself with a bright smile. At the same time, the opposite passenger door opened. Another boy. 

This one had long, frizzy hair. His face was framed by the bangs that stuck on his forehead. He was wearing a black t- shirt of a band you’d never heard of before tucked inside a pair of cutoff denim shorts held up by a belt, a chain clinking at the boy’s side as he stepped off the car. He wouldn’t let Giuseppe take his bags, insisting he could have done it himself. 

Your father followed the boy with his eyes as he carried what appeared to be a duffel bag and a beat up suitcase towards your father. 

“And this must be Eddie, then” your father said, as Eddie released his suitcase to shake your father’s hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” the boy said, and from this new angle you could see that he sported three chunky rings on his left hand and a chain necklace around his neck. Your father saw you peeking out the window and motioned for you to come down. 

“Shall we go inside? Show you around before dinner?” He motioned towards the boys as Eddie picked his stuff up once again and followed inside. You rolled your eyes. That was your cue to put on some pants and come downstairs. 

Your father’s office was just on the right at the bottom of the stairs, as you hopped down the marble steps. You heard chatter. 

“Oh there she is” you heard your father announce as you leaned against the doorframe of his office. You tended to dislike his theatrics “Boys, this is my daughter” the two guests turned around, reaching their hands to squeeze yours, as you firmly told them your name. 

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he said, fixing his glasses with his other hand. He was soft, but his handshake was firm. Hands bigger than yours. 

“You’re the archeology and history nerd” you quipped, a slight curl of your mouth followed it. 

Steve didn’t seem to like the name, as he let go of your hand, mouth in a straight line. Embarrassed. Put off. You needed them to know that they weren’t welcome here. 

“Hey, what’s up I’m Eddie” the other guy said. His hand was much more rougher and calloused than Steve’s, likely a guitarist. 

“You’re the soon to be failed author?” you tilted your head at him,

 you tilted your head at him, you heard your mother gasp, the indignation dripping from her mouth as she said your name. Eddie chuckled, a bit taken aback, but amused. 

“How do you like daddy’s money, hm?” It was your turn to be indignant. You heard your father snicker behind the boy, followed by Steve. Your hand brusquely retracted from Eddie’s, as your mother poured springs of apologies on your behalf. 

“She’s not like this, usually,” your mother said. Which was a lie. You were always like this. Rude, witty, sour. 

You heard the disappointment in your dad’s tone “Go show them their room” he said, an intimation for you to leave. 

“Make yourselves at home,” he said, before you guided them back upstairs. 

Eddie huffed up the stairs. You didn’t offer to take his bags, as he seemed to not need nor want any help. 

You opened the large pinewood door. 

“You guys are gonna sleep in here. This is my room, but it’s gonna be yours for the rest of your stay. I’m gonna be in the next room over. Unfortunately we’ll have to share a bathroom” You could see sleep calling to them, as their eyes opened and closed slowly at the sight of a made bed. 

Eddie dropped his bags and thumped on the bed, sleep immediately overtaking him. 

“You have to excuse him, this is the first time he’s traveled outside of the States,” Steve said, sitting on the bed, leaning to take his shoes off. 

“Nervous or what?” you asked, examining your bookcase in case you wanted to steal a book to take to your room. 

“Just not as lucky as many” Steve shrugged, laying himself down on the mattress “this is his big shot. If your dad likes his stuff it’s all uphill from here” Steve groans, voice full of sleep “thanks for lending us your room, let us know when dinner is.”

And that was that. The boy fell into the arms of slumber.  

And when Giovanna rang the bell to announce dinnertime, once again you peeled yourself away from The Count of Monte Cristo. You wondered if they were still sleeping. 

You wandered into the bathroom and towards the door as you shot a quick look at the two sleeping bodies on the bed. Eddie was snoring. You were unsure if you should have woken them up. 

You toyed with the bathroom door, swinging it between your hands. A grin decorated your face as you decided to slam it. Steve jumped awake, annoyed and scared. 

“Dinner’s ready” you muttered, reaching for the handle of the door. 

“I’ll pass, thanks” Steve said, shaking Eddie from his almost comatose state. The boy mumbled a semi- discernible “huh?” 

“Dinner, Ed. ‘m not going, but you can feel free to” Steve said to the other, but he just turned around and sleepily muttered an “‘mgood, thanks.”

“He’s good. We’ll apologize to your mother in the morning” Steve said, laying back down, ignoring you completely. 

Where’s my apology? 

You were thankful for the lack of guests at dinner. That way you were able to silently eat and then slither back into your room. Back into your book. Lulled by the crickets, and the whisper of the trees in the weak evening breeze. You ended up falling asleep. 

In the morning, Steve was already outside having breakfast with your parents. He looked like he had showered, but you didn’t recall the faint sound of the water running. He was wearing another pair of shorts, another flouncy shirt. Fumbling with a slice of toast, buttered with jam as he talked to your father about the morning paper. 

“This is gorgeous by the way” Steve admitted, looking around “your orchard?” he looked at your mother, who was smiling proudly at the compliment. 

“We grow a lot of fruit here, Giovanna makes apricot juice fresh every day” she smiled, biting into a slice of bread.

“You had a lot to say yesterday, now you’re a quiet little mouse?” your father teased, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes. 

“It’s okay, she apologized” Steve said, an assuring look in his eyes “she didn’t mean that stuff. She told me, it’s just her welcome wagon” he chuckled, and you felt yourself grow red. Why would he save you like that?

Eddie popped out from the door, hair in a bun, changed out of his shirt in favor for a new one. 

“You should show them around some time, dear. Take them into town, maybe at the lake, I hope your father is not gonna keep them cooped up in his office for ten weeks” your mother giggled. 

“Yeah, no we’d love that. Maybe I’ll get some inspiration for the book” Eddie sat down at the breakfast table, between you and Steve as he fumbled with a soft boiled egg Giovanna had to crack open for him. Embarrassment was veiled on his face. 

You looked at his ringed hands, fumble with the small spoon. Did it always look so small? 

“We’re not gonna start until the beginning of the week, but I might ask you to go get some supplies into town today and take these two with you. Eddie’s gonna need some nice paper for his typewriter, won’t you?” your father gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, at which he smiled. 

“Have another egg” your mother encouraged the boys. Eddie dug into the pot again, getting more confident with the way he spread the runny yolk on a slice of toast. Some of the runny egg dripped in between his fingers.

Just not as lucky as many.

Steve passed. “I know myself too well, if I have a second, I’ll just have a third and a fourth and a fifth and then I’m just gonna have to get rolled outta here” he joked. I know myself. Self- assured, cocky. You wondered what it felt like to really know yourself, to have everything figured out like he did. 

You lent Steve Giuseppe’s old bike, Eddie got an old one of yours, the squeaky rusted tires alerting the two strangers’ presence. You were afraid you would have been pressured into giving one of them your own bike, seeing as you had already surrendered all of your possessions to them. 

It was a pleasant day. Not too incredibly hot to be embarrassed if the two boys were to see you, face riddled with uncomfortable beads of sweat, breath heaving irregularly from the dry air of July. Instead, a nice breeze came through the mountains, as you debated on going for a swim later in the day. 

That’s what you liked about your summers there. A swimsuit was always the wardrobe of choice under your summer clothes, the freedom to subsist in a plane of existence where your obligations began and ended within the span of a few miles of green grass and honeysuckle flowers. 

The two boys followed you down the graveled road into town, which seemed to be deserted, families abandoning their houses in favor of driving to the beach for the weekend. 

You asked them if they wanted to get a coffee, as you dismounted your bikes and parked them in front of a coffee place. 

You sat outside as you sipped from your espresso cups. 

“So” Steve broke the silence “What does one do around here?” you put down your book, the device you so desperately tried to ignore them with, trying to drown them out. 

“Wait for the summer to end” you mumbled carelessly, going back to the words on the page.

“Ok and then in the winter you wait for the summer to start?” Eddie snickered. 

“Seriously though, what do you do here the whole summer?” Steve interrupted, taking you away from your book again, as you tossed it on the table. 

“I read, mostly. Play music, swim at the lake, go out” you huffed out annoyedly, reaching for the book. Eddie preceded you.

“Kafka? What happened to Monte Cristo?” he flicked through the yellowed pages.

“I finished it. How’d you know I was reading that?” you snatched the book back from his hands. 

“It was on your bed before I slammed onto it. You should read something a bit more substantial,” he said “Kafka isn’t gonna teach you shit, why don’t you read Dorian Grey instead?” it annoyed you how patronizing his tone was. 

“I read that last year, thanks for the help” you retorted, taking the book back from him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Your dad seemed to make it abundantly clear that you need to be nice to us” Steve intervened, whining like a petulant child. 

“Or what? You’ll snitch on me?” you snapped, the two boys looking at each other. 

“Listen, sweetheart,” your nose curled at the nickname, “we’re not your enemies or whatever you think you’ve made us out to be. We really don’t want to be a nuisance to you” nothing about what he said seemed sincere. You rolled your eyes in response.

“Well,” Steve stood up from the metal chair with a violent noise, Eddie following suit “we’ll see you later,” as the both of them mounted their bikes and left. The creaking noises of the rusty old bikes followed in their pedaling. 

They finally got the hint. 

You spent the rest of your day at the lake, not really in a mood to interact with Chiara or Alessandro, two of your longtime friends. Instead, you made the slushing of the water current your friend, staring at the words on the page. Meaningless words. Kafka didn’t seem so enticing after all. 

When you got home it went back on the dusty shelf. Your hand lingered on the spine of Dorian Grey for a moment. The cover was brown and worn, it was your mother’s before it became yours, your heart picked up at the words on the spine, gold lettering. You thought about what Eddie had said earlier. 

You picked up Heart of Darkness instead. 

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @xxbimbobunnyxx, @aphrogeneias, @rowanswriting, @stveharringtn, @impmunson, @strangerstilinski, @lavendermunson, @rebelfell, @bimbobaggins69, @cryingglightningg, @thornsnvultures, @jamdoughnutmagician, @take-everything-you-can, @eddiesxangel, @ali-r3n, @emxxblog, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @yujyujj, @gregre369, @subconsciouscollapse, @aol19, @cooljadejacksonthings, @maeneedsabreak, @eddiesguitarskills, @freak-of-hawkins, @eddiesghxst

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson au #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington au #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fan fiction #call me by your name #call me by your name au

[faux-ecrivain]

1950s househusband x gn reader

marinette4943 asked: Hey!

I saw your yandere housekeeper and loved the way you wrote it. Do you intend to do a next part?

If so, could you tag me in it?

————————————————————

Name; Angelo

Thirty second official post

@marinette4943

————————————————————

From Part 3; 

        He is absolutely whipped for you, everything you do is committed to his memory, and he inches closer to you with every passing second. “You’re welcome, so, are you going to give me a tour of the town or some advice to settle in, and get along with my neighbors?” He didn’t want to, but he figured that it was best to be as helpful as possible. That way, you’ll trust him the most and will come back to him whenever you need help. You, however, scoot away from him, eventually ending up near the end of the couch in a corner. “Oh, uhm, certainly. I’ll be happy to give you advice and a tour, but I was hoping we could simply have a friendly chat first…” Angelo responds hopefully, he just wants to get to know you and does want to talk about anyone else.

              However, something you said earlier caught his attention. “Unexpected? Wh-what do you mean by that?” He questions nervously, his wide eyes nervously glancing at you and his bottom lip quivering at the thought of you hating him. You tilt your head, slightly confused and then you try to clarify without sounding rude. “Well, back where I’m from men don’t often wear dresses, that’s all.” Before you can clarify any further he interrupts you, which was quite rude and he apologizes for that, but doesn’t stop talking. “Sorry for interrupting, but you don’t like it? Does my fashion sense upset you?” He inquires his expression shifting into anxiety and his mind begins to work in overdrive. His hands squeezes the cloth of his dress and he twists the fabric. Angelo doesn’t do well with rejection, of any form or shape. 

          Suddenly this conversation seems very awkward to you and you regret opening your mouth. “That’s not what I meant, that dress looks great on you. It’s just someone have to get used to, that’s all.” He smiles and he seems content with your response. “Really? You mean it? Thank you!” It isn’t often that he gets a compliment from anyone and it’s been a while since anyone he was interested in complimented him (excluding his spouse, he loves his spouse so very much and is very interested in them). Angelo relaxes and leans his head on your shoulder, which causes you to cringe and push his head away. He whines and leans against you once more, this time he wraps his arms around your arm and nuzzles your neck. Now you’re very uncomfortable and have begun to regret your decision to let him inside.

 ———————————————————-

 Subtly, you try to push him away. You didn’t want to be rude, but his unnecessary affection was making you extremely uncomfortable. Sadly, his grip on your arm does not loosen and seems to tighten. Angelo scoots closer, he’s so close that you could count each one of his eyelashes. He sighs, seemingly unaware of how close he is, or maybe he knows and just doesn’t care. You clear your throat and lean as far away from him as you can. “Ahem, so, about that tour…” You smirk awkwardly and try to make a simple conversation, if only to alleviate the discomfort you felt. He acknowledges your words with a hum, but doesn’t respond for quite some time. It’s silent and awkward as you try to ignore the very obvious bedroom eyes Angelo is sending your way.

        You clear your throat again and try to get his attention. “Ahem, Angelo, could you please let go of me or move away?” It takes a moment for your words to sink in and when the do, Angelo shoots away from you. His eyes are wide, his face is flushed with embarrassment and his mouths is agape. It’s clear that he’s absolutely mortified by his behavior. Immediately he begins to apologize. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry, Neighbor! That was so inconsiderate of me, Oh! I feel so ashamed! Oh, I should go, I shouldn’t behave like that around you!” Part of his apology sounds a bit like an excuse, but you can tell by his expression that his apology is sincere. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Oh, I’m truly sorry if I did!”

          You chuckle and wave off his worries, you begin to placate him, and attempt to halt his incessant apologies. “Oh, it’s alright, Angelo. It really isn’t that terrible, I was uncomfortable, but I’m sure you didn’t mean anything by it.” Oh, he certainly meant something by his actions, it wasn’t anything sinister, but it was something that Angelo wasn’t ready to face. He was experiencing so much turmoil, the very idea that he almost betrayed his spouse made his physically ill. He could never hurt them like that, sure they weren’t the best spouse, but he still loved them. “No, I-I have to leave, I-I can’t-Oh!” Angelo struggles to breathe, his previous actions set in, and he felt like crying.

         He has to leave, Angelo couldn’t stay another minute is your presence. Especially when he’s constantly tempted to crawl into your arms and never leave them. Once more, you try to reassure him, but he doesn’t listen. “Angelo, it really isn’t a big deal. I’m sure you meant nothing by it and nothing came of it, so it’s alright. Let’s just sit back down and enjoy a nice, civil conversation.” It sounded as though you were trying to calm him down, and that made him feel even worse. Well, the way he felt when you expressed concern for him, made him feel even worse. “No, no, I have to go. My sp-spouse is coming home soon an-and I don’t want to disappoint them.” He tries to reason with himself and his desires, but it’s not working.

       Mostly because his heartbeat seemed to increase with every word that you spoke, he knew what that meant, and he couldn’t give into such sinful desires. He had to stay loyal to his spouse, although, thoughts of loyalty seemed to remind Angelo of the way his spouse has been behaving recently.  Which causes his brows to furrow and halts his apologies, as his mind wanders to his spouses recent behavior. His spouse has been distant (more so than usual) and they keep coming home late. Normally, he wouldn’t worry about that, but each night they come home smelling like cheap perfume, and then he starts to think about the recent rumors he’s heard. The ones about househusband Damian and his cheating spouse. This causes Angelo to consider the idea that maybe his spouse is cheating on him, and the very thought is appealing to him. It causes him to be sick, and he nearly faints. (Luckily you caught him before he could actually fall, and now you’re fussing over him, oh, his heart can’t take it!)

         No, he can’t give into temptation. He has to stay loving and loyal, it’s not that hard, and surely his spouse will take notice of his devotion. He just has to keep trying, right? It doesn’t matter how exhausting it is or how much easier it would be to allow his new neighbor into his heart. Angelo has to remain strong, and eventually, he’ll be rewarded for his loyalty, won’t he?

————————————————————

    (I don’t really like this installment of househusband Angelo, I’m not proud of it, but I figured that if I do a bit of writing about one of my favorite OCs then I might get back into writing. But, who knows, I’m a creature of habit and writing is exhausting. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and hopefully, I’ll be back to writing at a normal pace again.)

#my writing #yandere oc #yandere x reader #enjoy this short fanfic! #gn reader #answer. #question? #fanfic #not the best #yandere male #male yandere #yandere boy #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere #yandere stories #soft yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere househusband x reader #my oc Angeloe #Angelo my oc #Thirty second official post #Thirty Second Official Post

[teddyeyeseddie]

The Cherrywood Motel

Starry Haze, Crystal Ball

rockstar!Eddie x housekeeper!reader

masterlist

(a/n: ITS BACKKKK AND SO AM I!! Enjoy my lovelies and visit my blog for some life updates!)

warnings: soft eddie, smut, minors dni, oral (fem rec), p in v, cream pie x 2, riding, showering together, a jump from last chapter.

now playing:

You lug all your clothes into the laundromat down the street, heaving the heavy bag onto the table before you once you’ve made your way inside. The smell of bleach and laundry detergent mixes in your nostrils as you sort your piles of dirties.

It’s early in the morning, the only person in the place being you and an elderly woman. You enjoy the quiet, only the soft whirring of the dryers breaking the silence.

You separate your lights from darks, throwing your first load in when a familiar voice resonates through the quaint room.

“Shit- fuck,” you look over to see Eddie struggling with a bag of laundry. You chuckle to yourself, your eyes meeting his. His face lights up when he sees you.

“Hey stranger,” he breathes out as he settles in at the table next to you.

“Hi Eddie,”

Ever since Eddie woke up in your bed, things had been different. Eddie seemed happier, his demeanor not so jittery. You talked more, Eddie revealing more about his life.

You learned he was really a dork. Knows a little too much about horror movies, still plans D&D campaigns for fun, and collects mugs from every new place he goes.

He’s become softer, more himself in the last few days. You found yourself getting closer to him, his magnetic force drawing you in with every little conversation.

His captivating personality had you expressing more things about yourself, like your favorite flower, how you got the scar on your shoulder, and all about your childhood cat, Mr. Snuffles.

Talking to Eddie when he was sober was easy, he didn’t go on unnecessary tangents, he wasn’t as flirty and he looked oh so pretty when he was healthy.

His usual red eyes now pure, no sign of distress in them. He even started taking care of his hair, his usual frizzy locks now smooth and curly. He was doing better. You were proud of him.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you today,” he says, pulling out all of his clothes and settling them into a pile. He gathers them all in his arms, walking towards a washer.

“Aren’t you gonna sort them?” you ask, chuckling to yourself as Eddie struggles with the large amount of clothes he has in his hands.

“I never do?” he says as if it's almost a question.

“Well, I’m sure you have some 200 dollar shirts in there that are begging to be sorted,”

“My uh- lady at home usually does it. This is how I used to do laundry when I was a kid,”

You roll your eyes, motioning for him to come back to the table.

You sort his dirty clothes for him, it feels pathetic but the smile he has on his face as you help him makes it somewhat worth it.

“You’ve gotta sort lights from darks. I’d suggest separating your whites too but I don’t want you to keel over,”

He chuckles, grabbing the pile of darks and carrying them to a washer. He puts in his quarters, handing you some so you can start the pile of lights.

“So what are you up to for the rest of the day?” he questions as he strolls back to the tables where your clothes still lay.

“Nothing really, apartment hunting for a little bit and then back to the motel,” you gather your pile of clothes, turning towards the washers and placing the items inside. Eddie swoops in front of you and puts quarters in for you, you playfully roll your eyes but smile up at him nonetheless.

“Oooh, that should be fun,” he scratches at the back of his neck, “I uh- owe you for bailing me out so just let me know what you need for the security deposit and I’ll write a check,”

“Thank you Eddie, but you don’t have to. I lost your jacket, I bailed you out, were even,���

Eddie shakes his head, curls flying in all directions at the erratic movement.

“Someone stole my jacket from you, you didn’t just leave it for anyone to take. Plus I can,so let me,” he states, eyes locking with yours in a stare.

“Just let me, it’s the least I can do-” you nod your head, allowing the man to help you pay your way into a new apartment.

A feat that was easier said than done, you had looked at 5 separate places with Christa, none of them being anything close to what you wanted or needed.

You finally decide to call it quits and return back to the hotel, smiling when you see Eddie waiting outside your door with a pizza box in his hand. Christa sends you a wink as you get out of the car, a soft “enjoy yourself” falling from her lips.

Eddie grins widely when he sees you step out of Christa’s car.

“Sorry- thought you were home from your hunting,” he motions towards your car that is parked a few spots down from your door.

“Kinda got stuck at our last place. Creepy landlord,” you straighten out the pleats of your skirt as Eddie sucks in a breath in through his teeth, wincing dramatically.

“At least you dodged that bullet,” he says as he leans against the doorframe waiting for you to open it, his slim shoulders doing a good job at boxing you in. The smell of his cologne makes your mind whir, gone are the days of dried puke and alcohol.

You unlock the door, Eddie’s hand pushing it open forcing you to duck underneath his arm. He lets the door close softly behind him once he is inside, being sure to lock the deadbolt.

He places the pizza box on the small table by the window. He draws the curtains, blocking out the rest of the world and turning the room into a space that was only for the two of you.

“Got your favorite,” he motions to the box with his thumb as he walks up behind you. You’re stepping out of your shoes when Eddie’s arm snakes around your front, under your arm and resting on your collarbone. He’s come over every night since the cleaning fiasco, you talk about the ten-day-whirlwind that the two of you have embarked on and get to know eachother even more.

Eddie spends most of his time apologizing when you recall anything from the short time of knowing him, ashamed of how much he had hurt you.

It’s been a week of take-out, today bringing you to day seventeen. Ten days of hell and seven of something in between a raging fire and a rumbling earthquake- scalding your skin and shaking off the dust settled deep in your soul.

His arm comes undone from you, his hand tracing down your tricep, over your elbow, ghosting down your forearm, finally grasping your hand as he draws you towards the radio sitting in the corner of the room.

Eddie liked to dance- he twirled to what he called your “teeny bopper” music, he swayed his hips to country music, he even danced to his own music when you forced him to listen to it one night.

Eddie danced with you tonight- his fingers fit perfectly through yours, his hand rested right in the dip of your waist, his lips looked pretty in this light.

“Are you thinking about kissing me, sweets?” He questions, a smile forming on his lips as he leans forward. You blush nervously, nodding your head. His smile gets even wider before he leans in, lips capturing yours.

Both his hands come to cup your face, cheeks tugging and eyes crinkled as he leans in further. His other hand comes to rest on your hip, pushing backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. You pull away, shifting from foot to foot as you wait for Eddie to take the reins. He chuckles softly before capturing your lips in another soft kiss before pulling away and plopping down onto the couch. He pulls you into his lap, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, all the way to your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours, his hands fumbling with the edge of your sweater. A plea on the edge of his lips as he looks up at you. You nod, letting him remove the garment from your body. He audibly moans at the sight, your breasts bouncing freely only leaving you in your skirt.

“Please tell me you have panties on,” he mumbles, hand snaking down to your center. He bites his lips and groans when he’s met with your sticky folds.

“S’ laundry day,” you giggle.

His fingers trace through your slick, he has half a mind to shove the fingers in your face, make you lick yourself off of him. But When he glances over your face, your pouting lips and furrowed brow send his heart racing. He decides right then that you're an angel. He thinks there’s no way you're real, there is absolutely no way you’re here with him.

He wraps his arm around your waist, standing from his place on the couch. He walks you back to the bed as you kiss up the side of his neck. He lands you on the middle, arms caging you in as he leans down to kiss you. He’s much slower this time, desperate clashing of teeth melting to well thought out movements.

You pull away from him, hands coming to mess with the edge of his old band tee.

“You’re much too dressed for the occasion, Mr. Munson,” you giggle out. He smiles down at you, getting up to strip out of his clothes. You hold your breath when he pulls down his boxers, his cock springing out and slapping against his belly. It’s big and you’re sure he knows it.

He crawls back up the bed, kissing from your ankle to your neck. He splays kisses across your face, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss.

His eyes bore into yours as he pushes some hair from your face before kissing you again, but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking.

“M’ gonna eat you out now, kay’?” he mumbles against your lips, you nod, throwing your head back as Eddie begins to kiss back down your body. He stops at the waistband of your skirt, mumbling something to himself before hooking his fingers in the band and pulling the fabric over your bottom.

He moans at the sight of your center, leaning forward to press a kiss to your thighs before diving in completely. He licks from your hole, up to your clit, tongue dancing around the bundle of nerves. Your knuckles grip the white sheets, mind reeling as he works you up to an orgasm. He laps at your pussy, pulling away to spit on his fingers.

His ringed fingers come to push through the sticky mess the two of you have created, one finally pushing in, drawing a guttural moan from your lips. The cold metal of his rings bump against your skin every time he thrusts his fingers in and out. He works you up to three before pulling them out completely, mouth still assaulting your clit, causing you to squeal.

“You ready f’me?” he questions, mouth still between your legs. You tug on his hair, pulling him away from your center, nodding profusely with a smile on your face.

He pushes you further up the bed, settling in between your legs. His cock nudges at your hole, the tip catching inside, you mewl quietly when he pushes in. He leans down, arms settling on either side of your head, his hair tickling your nose as he looks down at you intently.

“So pretty,” You mumble, hand coming up to cup his cheek and draw him into a kiss. He smiles into it, pulling away and admiring the way your face contorts every time he punches that spongy spot inside you.

“S’ all you, sweets,” He moans, forehead pressing against yours as he drives into you. The pace he sets draws moan after moan from deep within you.

Your hand stays cupping his face, kissing him again, your lips barely brushing his when he pulls away.

“C’mon pretty girl, tell me what it is. Wanna know what I should be moaning while I ruin you.”

You shutter a breath out- your name falling off your lips and into the air.

“F-fuck..” he’s full on smiling, his eyes crinkling as he languidly thrusts inside you.

“Eds-Eddie. M’ close,”

“Shit-ok. Where do you want me?” He picks up his pace, cock nudging at all the right places.

“Inside- want you inside,” Your legs lock around his waist, forcing him to bury himself to the hilt as he spills inside of you.

He’s giggling when you finally release him, pulling his still hard cock from inside you and smearing around the mess that has formed between your legs.

“Look so good painted all pretty for me. Could take a picture and look at it all tour long. Would never haveta’ look anywhere else. Just me this little memory and my hand,” he’s pulling your ass cheeks apart, releasing them before his thumb hooks into your pussy as he rummages around on the side table- careful not to knock down the countless polaroids around the camera.

“Can I sweets? Take a pretty little polaroid of this pretty little pussy?” he thrusts his thumb in further, drawing more cum out of you. You giggle when you feel it run down your thighs as you give him a soft hum in response to his question.

He snaps a picture of your most bare area, the idea makes you blush but then there's the idea of Eddie- using it. That makes it feel alright.

“Just wanna take one more,” he says as his cock nudges at your hole again, the puffy skin wanting to scream no but the burn short circuiting your brain at the same time.

He snaps another picture once he’s half inside you, your hands covering your face as you giggle.

“Enough of that,” he says with a small chuckle as he tosses the camera back onto the bedside table. His hands grip your hips as he lazily thrusts into you.

After finally having enough of Eddie’s teasing, you push at Eddie’s belly, signaling him to stop. He flashes you a confused look as he pulls out but soon gets the idea once you scramble off the bed and begin pushing him towards the couch.

He flops down onto the cushions, legs spreading wide. Deft fingers wrapping around your hips as you sink down onto him, your arms snake around his neck and pull at the hair sitting at the nape.

Eddie looks up at you in awe, his eyes never leaving yours as you ride him. His lips are parted, soft breaths and moans tumbling from his mouth.

“Shit- baby I- I can’t last like this-” He groans as he tries to stop your movements. You grab his hand, raising it and placing it on your breast.

“C’mon sweets, come in me again,” He moans sweetly at his own pet name being used against him, his hips stilling once he is settled inside you. He buries his head in your neck as he comes, teeth biting in as he silences himself.

You let him stay inside you for a while, finally pulling off of him when Eddie begins to rub at the skin on your hips.

You’re up on wobbly legs, shooting Eddie a glare when he begins to chuckle.

He throws his hands up in defense and motions to the mess between his legs. Cum has dripped down his balls and pooled in his seat.

“Gonna need to spot clean this one miss housekeeper,” He winces as he gets up, collecting you in his arms and placing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Let’s shower, yeah?”

You nod, taking his hand as he guides you to the small porcelain tub. He turns on the water, testing it with his fingers before stepping in once it has warmed up. He extends his hand to you, thanking him quietly once you're standing before him in the tiny shower.

He takes a step back, moving out of the spray and allowing you to warm up under the water. You take turns getting your bodies warmed up, Eddie finally assuming his position behind you washing your hair.

“You mentioned tour,” you blush as you recall the memory from moments ago. Eddie’s stops scrubbing your scalp and sighs.

“I- I’m leaving,” he says in an almost whimper.

“Oh, when?”

“Two days,”

#eddie x reader smut #eddie series #eddie smut #eddie fanfiction #eddie #Eddie x reader #eddie x reader series #Eddie x reader fluff #eddie x female reader #eddie x reader angst #eddie x y/n #eddie x y/n fluff #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #Spotify

[dearestspirit]

a note heard in heaven - 00 (prologue)

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 1,294 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health. series masterlist | next part

There’s something to be said about opposites attracting; it seems Mizu’s life has led her to more run-ins with cushy, uptight rich people than she’d like to count. So when a con-man named Taigen finds his way to the lodging she shares with her ‘friends’- as in, a bunch of criminals dealing in forgery- asking her to play the part of handmaiden to another snob? Convince you to marry him, and then ship you off to where you’re never heard from again? The inheritance going to your absolutely grieving husband, of course, then to be split with her receiving half. She’s quick to scoff in his face. Until Taigen, deceivingly taking on the title of The Count to charm you, shows her just how much money you’ve been left to inherit. Even half of that sum is enough to make anyone do anything. Still, the back of her prideful mind nagged her with how demeaning the task was. The other part: the down in the dirt, tired of cleaning messes she didn’t make, re-sewing clothes from her childhood to keep using part, knew this was her one opportunity. Someone born like her rarely had a shot at anything worthwhile.

It was no question that in a few days time, she’d find herself alone in a carriage making its way to your estate. She knows the game she has to play, and she swears she’s winning before she even sees you.

Women like you are all too easily captivated by men like Taigen, she posits. You’ve already been married off to a wealthy man– one much too old for you, having lived on his property since a young age. From what she’s heard, you’ve barely ever set a foot outside those walls. That loneliness? A weak point, perfect to deliver a final blow to. Taigen was closer to your age, attractive, and could at least pretend to have some sort of importance. Mizu would act as something of a cupid. Set you on the right path, to a man with a good heart… she doubted it’d take even a week to get you to crumble in his arms, if your current husband’s behavior was anything to go by.

It takes a long journey to make it to your residence. Buried away in pitch black depths of forested land, the sense of isolation is cold. That chill sits in Mizu’s chest, keeping her on guard. A few soldiers halt her and her guide. Eyes peer in, leering and skeptical. With a few words from the coachman, they’re easily cleared and sent inside. She finds some unnecessary task to busy herself with, easing her nerves; counting the bumps in the dirt path until the horses reach the front door.

Thirty-seven. There’s thirty-seven uneven jostles of the cart before Mizu steps out, greeted by an older woman holding a lantern. Taigen had briefly informed her of the elder. She, Madame Kaji, was the most established housekeeper on the property. She took in all of the maid girls, training them and making them properly useful. A warning echoed in his statement of her: “She’s strict. Do not fuck up around her, or you’ll be scraps for wild animals to feast on and our whole operation goes up in flames.”

As if she would really believe that.

She wouldn’t.

Until the woman walked on ahead, maneuvering through the home with ease. As if she’d escorted thousands of to-be handmaidens through here. Mizu grunted, taking a few large jogs in order to catch up with the madam. This place was already testing her patience, her disinterest palpable.

“I’m surprised that your recommendation from The Count was taken so seriously, considering your apparent… circumstances of birth. Though he assured me your experience far outweighs any problems that may arise from such a condition,” Madame Kaji looked at Mizu only from the corner of her eye, unwilling to look directly. “The Lord’s main house is made up of two wings which you will familiarize yourself with. Then, the library. There’s also the servant’s quarters, but you won’t be using those as the Lady’s handmaiden.”

Mizu follows, lugging her belongings behind her wearily. Travel had been long, her body ached from sitting in that cramped carriage cabin, and now she had to listen to this borderline hag rattle off rules to her. All she has to do is be polite and meet your way too high standards, right? Who cares who the tea leaves go to, what soap must be left over? It was all meaningless etiquette so that when the poor somehow didn’t play by these rich rules, you could sneer and laugh in their faces. Mizu wanted nothing more than to climb into her new bed and sleep. Sleep until maybe she didn’t regret this decision any more.

Though, her regrets start to dwindle as she’s led through the grand hallways. Entire staircases bigger than any room she’s ever been in, exquisite paintings lining every empty inch of wall space they could, and various ancient relics on display made her shudder. The opulence of it all was astounding. Her whole bloodline– past, present, and future– would never see the amount of riches that you and your husband bask in. Honestly, if she weren’t trying to stay in the good graces of Madame Kaji, she’d let out a snort at how overdone the decor is.

She’s taken through a few more sliding doors, more Japanese style than Western, until Kaji stops in her tracks. Nodding her head to the left, she points Mizu in the direction of your door.

“This is where the Lady sleeps, and this,” she directs Mizu’s attention to the small chamber across from your doors. “is where you’ll be sleeping. The Lady often has nightmares, which you will attend to her during. It’s best to keep you close.”

Mizu nods, opening the door of the compartment. She can feel her eye twitch. It’s barely more than a glorified cabinet. The space contains only a wooden slab with a bedroll and pillow on it. There’s space under for her to put her shoes and luggage, but little else. Before she knows it, Madame Kaji has left her behind, apparently satisfied with that being the end of her tour. Mizu’s head lands against the door of her ‘room’ with a thump. She makes quick work of her shoes, shuffling them under the bed, along with the rest of her things.

It’s strange, though. She finds herself unable to lay, rather, turning herself around to face your quarters. Her hands tremble, shakily trying to pry your door open just a tad. She closes one eye, doing her best to peer in.

Moonlight streams in through your large windows, illuminating you in a heavenly glow. She can’t quite see your face from where she stands, but she can make out your figure underneath white sheets. She takes another moment to watch. Her breath practically wracks through her body, as if it’s dawning on her, her sudden proximity to you. Never had she been in the presence of someone so… unattainable, or otherworldly, almost. Somewhere in the house, a thud resounds loudly. Mizu nearly jumps out of her skin, shutting your door in an instant. Chest heaving and mouth dry, she settles herself into her compartment. Dragging her hand down her face, she tries to get her heart to relax. Taking one last glance towards you, your room, she finally flops back against the hard bedroll, agonizing over the uncomfortable nature of it. Exhaustion seeps into her muscles, eyes easily drooping shut. All she can do is hope the rest she gets tonight prepares her for the day ahead.

It won’t.

Because it isn’t long until a bloodcurdling scream rips through the house.

a/n: i usually put my authors note up top, but this one is probably gonna be egregiously long. this is just a prologue, but i hope it’s an exciting enough start to something i’m so thrilled to be writing. it overjoys me that people showed so much interest in the idea. the plot of the handmaiden is one that means a lot to me. i can’t wait to explore mizu’s character through the lens of that plot. with the content this story is going to be diving into, i really want to perfect it and take my time on it, so please bear with me if it takes a while to get through and complete. right now, it’s looking like the series might be 6-9 parts, not including a prologue or epilogue. i can’t guarantee anything, but once part one is out i’d like to upload at least one part a week, possibly two. also, the count is taigen because due to such a huge involvement the count has in the story of the handmaiden, it’ll be easier reading to make it a known character than continuously referring to him as a vague male character. i do actually like taigen as a character, promise. also, i know the handmaiden takes place in japan occupied korea, but this will simply take place in japan. i’m not the most historically knowledgeable, so the setting will probably lean more towards blue eye samurai in terms of time period, dress, etc. it may end up being some weird mish-mash situation, but i’ll do my best to have it at least flow well. anyway, thank you for reading and please feel free to share your thoughts!!

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #bes x reader #bes x you

[chrollohearttags]

***reverb spoilers (ish)*** and some more crack cause I need it today

influencer (y/n) definitely forgets that you’re rich sometimes and is still stuck in the ways that you were raised on in a single parent household. For example, you’ll spend two bands on your new hairstyle or shoes but it’ll be a cold day in hell before you spend more than $3 on a box of cereal and boyyyy, does it grind Eren’s gears. “Princess, I understand not spending unnecessary money but why the fuck I gotta eat these? Fruit Rings, seriously? That’s not even a damn toucan on the box. That’s a crow. A crow, (y/n)! That can’t be good for anybody.” “It tastes the same, Eren. My granny used to buy these for me all the time and I’m fine.” “What you are is cheap.” And he’s so confused because he could’ve sworn his black card has a $700 Sephora charge from yesterday so why he has to eat like he’s on commissary, he doesn’t know. But he doesn’t bother to argue because it’s pointless. Or, when it’s Saturday morning and he’s finally getting some much needed rest, only to hear Fantasia and Mary J. Blige playing downstairs, loud as hell. And you, in shorts, big t-shirt and a bandana tied around your hair..mopping and humming like someone’s divorced mama of three. “(Y/N), it’s ten am, why are you up cleaning like you’re in goddamned bootcamp? That’s what we have housekeepers for..” But he has no idea the can of worms he just opened!.. “Right. And you have two perfectly good legs and arms, meaning your ass could’ve been up helping me a hour ago. You know what you are, Eren? Spoiled. When’s the last time you picked up a broom? Hmm? Do you even know how to iron your own clothes? A lil’ cleaning and life skills ain’t gone kill you.” Then you go on to tell him how you’d help your granny clean the house every Saturday and it helped you become a hard working woman. Which now that you’ve guilt tripped him, this multi-millionaire recording artist is in the living room, singing Free Yourself with tears in his eyes as he dusts the tables and TV stand. And every weekend, just like you and every other child that looked like you had to experience, he gets the same trauma! Rolling around in his silk linen sheets, kicking his feet and crying because he can hear Keith Sweat playing from the flatscreen.

#idk where this thought came from #I just thought about this Grammy winner having to dust his own awards off bc his wife said he was lazy #aot x black reader #cherry’s drabbles 🍒 #black fem reader #musician x influencer au #eren x black fem!reader #musician eren #cause the girls that get it #get it #black reader #eren jaeger imagines #eren jaeger headcanons #attack on titan eren #eren x black fem reader #aot crack #aot fluff #black fanfiction #eren au #eren yeager x reader #eren imagines #aot au #eren jaeger x black reader #eren drabble #aot drabbles #crack drabble #crack post #crack fic #influencer y/n #that’s a real bitch idk

[bethanydelleman]

I have a very specific question and I hope you know the answer (or where to look 😅): If I remember correctly when Fanny originally was sent to Mansfield she was first accompanied by a servant and joined by Mrs. Norris on the last part. Was this the normal, proper way for children to travel or would a parent / guardian come and pick them up instead of sending a servant?

Let's say it's the beloved child of Lord and Lady X, they're 8 years old and have a long journey ahead of them to go home. Would loving Lady X travel to her child and bring them back herself or was that seen as overbearing and unnecessary when you have trusted servant Y who will keep the child safe and spare you the hassle?

Thank you so much for your work it's always so insightful!

Thank you!

First a caveat, that was the way that Mrs. Norris proposed that Fanny should travel, but it is not what actually happened:

"...I will engage to get the child to Mansfield; you shall have no trouble about it. My own trouble, you know, I never regard. I will send Nanny to London on purpose, and she may have a bed at her cousin the saddler’s, and the child be appointed to meet her there. They may easily get her from Portsmouth to town by the coach, under the care of any creditable person that may chance to be going. I dare say there is always some reputable tradesman’s wife or other going up.” Except to the attack on Nanny’s cousin, Sir Thomas no longer made any objection, and a more respectable, though less economical rendezvous being accordingly substituted

Mrs. Norris's plan is to send Fanny with a stranger from Portsmouth to London and then with her housekeeper. Sir Thomas clearly did not think this was sufficient. Given what he does for Fanny later, I assume he sent a male servant to fetch her, but we aren't told.

Now as for children traveling, I believe they did often go without their parents. Many children in Austen's and other novels go to boarding school and it doesn't seem like their parents accompany them. However, they would almost certainly send a trusted servant with them. In Wives & Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell, Hyacinth sends her daughter Cynthia, who is a teenager, to France to boarding school completely alone and is criticized for it. She does arrange for Cynthia to stay with family along the way.

If we look at how dependent women travel, which I believe would be similar to children, a male servant is sent most of the time (Elizabeth & Jane's journey to London for example). Fanny is sent with a male relative, William and then Edmund. It is implied that it would be fine for Fanny to travel with Henry Crawford, a gentleman friend of the family. Georgiana Darcy is with her companion Mrs. Younge and at least one (maybe two) male servants. The Dashwood sisters travel with Mrs. Jennings, who would count as a chaperone, she likely has servants with them as well.

The less well-off Miss Steeles travel with a reputable gentleman but not a servant because they can't afford one. Catherine Morland's shocking journey home was shocking because she was unaccompanied (female and only 17). Jane Eyre was sent alone with just the coachman (she was 10) and the school found that odd, so usually a child would be accompanied by someone. Frederica is picked up from school by her uncle in Lady Susan, though that was also because he had to consult with the schoolmistress.

As for real humans, I have read that Jane Austen herself always traveled with one of her brothers, even when she was a confirmed spinster.

So I think it's fairly likely that Lady X could send her beloved child to travel with a trusted servant or three or a relative. I don't think it would be crazy for her to go herself, since Edmund travels all the way to Portsmouth to fetch Fanny, but it would probably depend on the length of the journey and the social commitments of the parents.

#question response #thank you! #travel #jane austen

[zablife]

Mary the Helpful Housekeeper

Requested by @appare--vestigium for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

You woke with a splitting headache, the blinding sliver of sunlight peeking through the curtains only adding to your pain. You reached out for your cigarettes, but your body was sluggish and unresponsive to your commands, only succeeding in knocking over the Bible the staff had given you as a wedding gift. With a huff of frustration, you fell back against the plush comfort of the feather down pillows, wondering if it had been the copious amounts of wine at dinner or your late night of passionate lovemaking causing your fatigue. Placing a hand over your eyes, you called out to Tommy to see how he was faring, but received no answer.

Your eyelids slipped close once more, too heavy to keep open and suddenly a bizarre dream resurfaced from the recesses of your mind. You flinched at the haunting memory of an intruder which now seemed unquestionably real. You were certain you’d witnessed a shadowy figure scurrying forth from the darkness to loom over you and Tommy, a pleading voice whispering in your ear to repent. 

Before you could bring forth any other details, you heard the door of your bedroom creaking against its ancient hinges and you gasped loudly, eyes snapping open in fear.  A slight figure rounded the corner with a breakfast tray, tilting her head to examine you curiously. “Is something wrong, ma’am?” Mary asked, placing the food at your side.

“No…yes,” you corrected yourself rubbing your temples in tight circles. “I’m not feeling very well. My head is aching and I’ve had the strangest dream,” you confided, though you weren’t sure she was the right person to tell. Where Tommy saw professionalism, you perceived nothing but coldness in her demeanor.

“Oh, what about?” she inquired, busying herself opening the curtains. 

“Nothing….nonsense really,” you admitted, dismissing the ludicrous idea the moment the soothing warmth of the tea cup radiated against your palm.

The rhythmic clicking of Mary’s footsteps against the hardwood stopped abruptly, her voice straining a note higher as she advised, “I wouldn’t be so quick to forget. Your dreams can tell you a great deal.”

“I doubt that,” you snorted.

Mary drew the last curtain back with more force than necessary. The golden rings holding the heavy drapery crashed against the rod with a harsh clang, forcing you to turn. “Mary!” you exclaimed in shock and annoyance.

“My apologies, ma’am. I do hope you recover from what ails you,” she said in somber monotone before hurrying from the room.

You rolled your eyes at her unsympathetic tone, a long sigh escaping your lips as you attempted to move the heavy tray. Wincing in pain, your eyes fell to your left arm and the bright red mark that had seemingly appeared overnight. You traced the tender flesh at the crease of your elbow with your fingertips, wondering what sort of insect could have bitten you. It left you disgusted at the thought of something in your bedding and you demanded the room be given an immediate cleaning. Of course, Mary deemed it unnecessary, stressing her thorough routine.

Despite winning the battle of wills, you felt a certain unease that would carry through the day until you were tucked safely beneath your husband’s arm at bedtime. Only then did you give an account of your unusual morning and the difficulties with his housekeeper. 

“Tommy, honestly, I don’t know why you keep her around,” you grumbled.

Tommy shrugged as he leaned over to extinguish his cigarette in the ashtray. “She’s loyal and hardworking, Y/n. Not to mention a skilled nurse. She patched up Arthur and me more than once without saying a word to the coppers,” he noted. “And she never complains. Always answers the bell, no matter how late,” he added with a satisfied nod.

“So she’s in love with you,” you teased, looking over at him with a wicked smile and playfully raised eyebrow. “The maid who answers the bell after midnight is always in love with the master.”

“Is that right?” Tommy asked, mischief dancing in his eyes. “It’s after midnight now, Mrs. Shelby, would you care to see to my needs?” he countered, moving your hand down his toned chest toward the growing bulge in his shorts. You giggled as he leaned down to kiss you, pushing every thought of insubordinate servants from your mind. By the time he’d finished with you, you were thoroughly exhausted and fell into a peaceful slumber by his side.

The next thing you remembered, the clock in the hall chimed four, a chill blowing through the room. Your heavy eyes struggled to open, nonetheless you swore there was something at the corner of your vision, moving stealthily toward you. You felt your heart knock against your ribs urgently and you willed yourself to scream, but found your tongue caught in your throat. Likewise, your limbs remained stuck and lifeless by your side. Tommy, Tommy, Tommy…please wake up, you silently pleaded, wishing he could hear your desperate thoughts.

A whisper drifted toward your ear, hissing like a serpent ready to strike. “But if they confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their fathers in their treachery that they committed against me, and also in walking contrary to me, so that I walked contrary to them and brought them into the land of their enemies-if they then their uncircumcised heart is humbled and they make amends for their iniquity then I will remember…” Words tumbled out, one upon another as your eyes adjusted in the darkness.

Then a leather bound book came into view, held by bony hands. You felt fear clawing at your spine as a pair of bulging blue irises peeked over the edges of the volume in an icy stare. The recitation stopped the moment your eyes locked, a hint of recognition flickering like the flame of a candle before it was snuffed out. A sudden blur of motion overtook your senses as the figure turned in haste, leaving you to fall back into a tunnel of confusion, haze descending upon you like a thick fog.

The next morning, your headache returned and with it intense paranoia. Luckily, Tommy was there to tend to you. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, a pained look upon his brow as he studied you with concern. “We’ll get a doctor if you need to speak to someone about your nightmares, love,” he reassured you. 

“They’re not dreams, Tommy! What I've seen is real!" you insisted. Biting your lip you added hesitantly, "I think it’s Mary. I swear it was her last night,” you said, clutching onto his sleeve, needing to be close to him.

“Where, darling?” he asked, beginning to worry for your sanity. 

“Here! In our room, standing over our bed,” you stressed, tugging on him insistently. You searched his eyes to see if he believed you and found nothing but a blank stare.

Tommy shook his head gently and hushed you as he pushed the hair from your face. “You’re overtired. All the preparations for the party,” he reasoned. “I’ll stay in the guest room tonight. Give you a chance to rest,” he said, placing a kiss to the top of your head with such tenderness you began to cry.

“Tommy, please don’t leave me,” you sniffed. “I’m afraid,” you confided in a whisper.

“Of Mary?” he asked with a chuckle. “Now I know you could use some sleep. Who could be afraid of a little old woman, eh?” 

—————-

Two weeks later…

“What’s wrong with her? Thought you was going to have a party?” a gruff voice echoed down the hall. 

“She’s not well, brother,” your husband rasped, concern laced in his voiced. 

“What’s she got?” his brother demanded.

“I’m not sure,” Tommy replied, exhaustion evident in his tone. “But she says Mary's to blame.”

“Mary? She’s a good Christian woman, Tom! What’s she got to do with this?” 

Tommy sighed, “I wish I knew.”

Although you tried to prop yourself up on the pillows to hear the rest of their conversation, you were unable to manage it. You’d become far too weak in recent days. Your arms were now covered in tiny red blemishes which were beginning to scab over. You shifted the blankets to cover them, ashamed of the indelicate way your skin had bruised by whatever was afflicting you.

When Tommy opened the door to your bedroom, you offered a weak smile when he asked, “How’s my girl?”

You didn’t feel like his girl anymore, you knew dark circles painted the hollows of your eyes and your cheeks sunk in unattractively, but you tried to put on a brave face for the man you loved. “I’m alright,” you said, attempting a small smile. Your visits with Tommy were the highlight of your otherwise drab and listless days.

“That’s good. You get to feeling better and we’ll start to discuss our wedding party, yeah?” he offered encouragingly.

“I’d like that,” you answered, though the hope of returning to a normal life seemed to be slipping further from your grasp with each passing day.

“I’ll have a maid draw your bath,” Tommy said, placing a kiss to your lips before turning to leave.

“Not her!” you reminded him, voice as loud and clear as you could manage.

Tommy stopped at the door, one hand on the frame as he exhaled loudly. “No, of course not.”

“Thank you,” you called out, feeling like a burden and a disappointment. 

——————-

With the steam from the bath having dissipated and the water turning tepid, you looked over your shoulder for your favorite silk robe. “Clara, could you help me?” you called out, settling back against the edge as you waited. 

Eyes closed in one last moment of peaceful solitude, you inhaled the soothing lavender bath salts, leaving an arm extended for your towel. Just then a hand grasped your forearm immobilizing you, a momentary sting caused you to thrash in the water. As the crashing waves spilled onto the tile floor, you were only vaguely aware of the splash as it hit. You felt your body sink into the water, arms slipping from the porcelain edges as your muscles went weak. The piercing blue irises from your nightmares watched you, but this time you were lucid enough to attach them to a body, the ginger haired woman you’d suspected all along.

“M-mary?” you mumbled, lips and tongue tingling strangely. She held a hand over your mouth, her eyebrows twitching with fury.

“When will you ever listen? You sinful woman,” she berated you in a low voice.

You searched her eyes, but the effect of whatever she’d given you was quickly altering your senses. You watched as her face began to melt into a blur, using all your effort to concentrate on her words.

“Mr. Shelby was turning his life around before you came. The orphanages, housing for the poor,” she explained, voice cracking with emotion. “But you’ve distracted him from his work. All he speaks of now are hedonistic pleasures. Your influence, no doubt,” she hissed.

You let out a muffled cry, barely able to breathe, and she jerked her hand away as though she were the one who had been harmed. She looked at her hand fearfully. “I’m no murderer. I’m here to save your soul,” she said with a vigorous nod of her head.

She stood, smoothing her apron as if reminded why she'd come in the first place. Taking a small Bible from the bathroom sink, she licked her index finger before finding her place from the night before.

She cleared her throat so as to compose herself, standing straight as an arrow, chin held high. “Leviticus 18…” she began in a controlled voice you recognized from your nightmares. Your eyes slipped close, a tear running down your cheek as you realized it had been all too real.

-----------

Tag List:

@evita-shelby

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@helen06dreamer

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dearshelby

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@runnning-outof-time

@emotionalcadaver

@thegreatdragonfruta

@noforkingclue

@thomashelbyswife

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x y/n #zablife 2k celebration

[myobmaya]

MAYA NO MORE ANGST I CANT CRY ANYMORE I NEED FINANCIAL COMPENSATION AND A LIFETIME OF HAPPINESS TO COME BACK FROM THE DAMAGE YOU JUST CAUSED

keep yelling at me and tell me I made you sad it fuels me and keeps me alive hehe

anyways I can’t do financial compensation bc I’m broke but will some fluffy Eddie do? Enjoy! ❤️

——

“I’m gonna marry you someday.”

Eddie Munson had a way with words. He was quite the drama theatric and had a way of just saying whatever was on his mind. More times it was unwarranted and sometimes unnecessary but he never cared. It was one of the many things that drew him to you. The way he was unapologetically him.

You had known him since childhood and now reaching your later years in high school you knew him like the back of your hand. Yet, he still always managed to leave you speechless with the things he said which brought you to now.

Eddie was quick to jump into action the moment you started choking on your root beer. Hitting your back and telling you to spit it out. You glaring at him telling him you had nothing to spit out and that you needed to catch your breath. Once you regained a regular breathing pattern you shoot daggers at the man.

Confusion crosses his face as he throws his hands up in surrender, “What! It’s not my fault you gulp like a fish!”

You glare at him and push his hands down opening up the van door. Eddie usually kept napkins from the fast food drive ins in the glove compartment so you were quick to grab a handful before slamming it shut. You stand outside and began to wipe yourself off. Eddie remains in the driver seat watching you trying not to laugh.

“Eddie Munson why would you even say such a thing?” You grumble furiously wiping at what would definitely be a stained shirt. You were supposed to wipe at stains, right? Or were you supposed to rub at them?

Eddie watches as your hands worke against your shirt loving the way your eyebrows furrow together in frustration. He decides he’s going to let you struggle for a few more moments. It’s when he sees particles of the napkin dance across your shirt with your fast movements he gives in. He opens his side of the door and grabs a cool water bottle from the console.

“Here,” Eddie takes the napkins from your hands and folds them over to find a dry area. He sticks the water bottle cap in between his teeth and effortlessly twist it off. He spits the cap off into the passenger seat floor and pours some water onto the napkins. You don’t say anything as he pulls your shirt up just enough from your chest and begins to work on the stain.

“You’re supposed to pat it. Not rub it.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him unaware of where this housekeeping knowledge had come from. Eddie’s eyes meet yours giving you a shy smile before they find his hands again. “Wayne gets stains in his shirts all the time. Can’t afford to go out and buy a new one every time it gets dirty,” Eddie answers your unspoken question.

You don’t realize you’re smiling at him until he looks at you again and rolls his eyes. Even still the smile doesn’t drop and you let him continue to help you. He continues his work for a few more minutes until he pulls his hands back with a giant grin on his face.

“There! Good as new! With a story to tell of why you should drink like a normal person and not a dog starved from the desert!” Eddie claps at his work. You look down. The stain is still present but the way Eddie gleams over his attempt makes you want to believe the mess is gone. Taking a page out of his book you go for the latter.

Settling back down in the van you give Eddie a suspicious glare. He gives you a toothy grin and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. He offers you one but you shake your head watching him settle the stick between his lips.

“Why would you want to marry me, Eddie Munson?”

The lighter is cupped around his hand as he brings them to his lips. He sets his cigarette and inhales a deep breath sending you a wink. He turns his head to the side as he blew out the smoke.

“It just makes sense,” he simply answers. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. It must be easy living so carefree in this world. Eddie did what Eddie wanted to do and although you admired the way he took on the world you often wondered how it was living that way.

“Oh do tell,” you cross your arms challenging him. Eddie leans against the open door taking another drag out of the cigarette. He coughs and his taste buds turn sour. He decides he’s not in the mood for it anymore.

“Well to start,” he blows out the smoke and turned to you, “We’ve been friends forever. That’s just science 101 right there.” You shake your head already shooting down his logic. He kneels down and puts out the cigarette against some rocks.

“Number two, you’re the only person I trust to actually live with and not murder me. I play guitar to get you to sleep already so you’ll have a permanent sleeping pill in the form that is,” he takes a dramatic pause then bends half his body down. “Me,” he takes a bow with arms wide open.

You go to protest that statement but he closes the small distance and stands in between your legs.

“And number three, we’re probably gonna end up alone. We might as well bite the bullet and make our marriage pact now so when I propose to you in ten years it won’t be awkward.”

He leans forward and kisses your forehead. It wasn’t usual for you and Eddie to share platonic touches here and there. You’ve had the fair share of sleeping in the same bed after sneaking off with alcohol on nights you both needed a release. However, in the context of what he was telling you now causes your frozen reaction. You remain seated in shock and he laughs like he’s told you a funny joke. It’s not everyday your best friend casually makes a case of what your future holds with them.

“So, again. I’m gonna marry you someday.”

You quickly gather yourself and point a finger at him to which he grabs your hand and does a curtsy. Typical Eddie Munson behavior.

“Listen, it can be strictly platonic. But if you want it to be real you can confess your ever dying love for me right now and—“

You kick him away from you but he grabs onto your leg to pull you forward. Out of instinct you grab onto the sids of the door but he tugs you again. You’re both laughing at each other and when he finally stops you hop out of the van. You go to push him but he’s quick with his movements. He pulls you into his arms and turns you around resting your back against his chest. You feel his heavy breathing and laughter in your ear. His fingers meet your sides tickling you. You bend over and he keeps a steady grip on. Trying to get him to stop you elbow him in his stomach and it results in him taking you down with him.

He holds you against him for a moment then releases you as he falls back onto the ground looking up at the sky. You lay beside him and look at him as he wears that stupid grin on his face. Both of you take the moment to catch your breath and settle down.

“If we get married it’s going to be the real deal. So you better start working on wooing me.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to look at you. An eyebrow raises and he goes to say something but you cut him off once more.

“And get better at your stain removal skills. Our kids aren’t going to be the only ones getting messy, Munson,” you wink getting up. You brush off some dirt and walk back to the van. He remains on the ground as he watches you open up the passenger side of the door. You turn to him once more and blow him a kiss that ends with you sending him a middle finger.

Eddie wants to say a remark back but he can’t think of anything to say. He’s speechless. Instead he falls back to the ground and bums out a then of happiness. Yeah. He’s definitely going to marry you someday.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson

[ssaeri]

your god won't hear you

☆ tags: m!sydney x gn!reader, just a little fallen!sydney, slightly corrupted!sydney, he’s still strawberry blond because I don't want to dye his hair, it's that temple scene where he gets protective of you, I cut out the good night scene because I got lazy, SFW, but the game itself is 18+ so might be suggestive due to the nature of the game, ft. f!jordan, ft. m!sirris ☆

The temple is quiet at night.

During the day, there is always movement: supplies to be transported, shrubs to be cleared, sheets to be washed. But once the sun slips in the sky, a sigh of silence settles over the space, and one by one, robed figures roam along the perimeter, leaving flickering candles in their wake. Sometimes, you sought solace in the embrace of the holy, letting the murmured prayers wash over your frayed nerves like a soothing balm; other times, you skirted around the edges of the temple, the weight of sin heavy on your skin.

Today is an instance of the former. You get to the corner of Wolf Street when the warning bells start tolling, signaling ten minutes before the start of the evening service, and you watch as temple members rush to complete their chores. For once, you're not among them. One lithe initiate pulls sun-dried habits from the laundry line, rolls them into a pile, and stuffs them into her basket in a rush. The head nun of housekeeping is not going to appreciate the unnecessary wrinkles; you've earned her ire enough times to know that ironing out every individual crease is another form of earthly torture. Meanwhile a tall monk hefts bags of hedge trimmings over his shoulder to deposit by the roadside, and when he sees you, he waves with a shy smile.

Cute.

You wink back. You don't know his name.

A line of initiates not much younger than you push open the wooden temple doors with a loud creak, and you cut across the street to trail in behind them, smoothing down the tattered remains of your overalls and hoping that you’re decent enough to not draw stares. A chant has already started. Half of the candles are lit. You're afraid to make a sound.

Like you said, the temple is quiet at night.

Your eyes strain to scan the pews until they land on a familiar figure in a corner of the main hall, knelt in prayer, head bowed over clasped hands. Strawberry blond hair—colored burnt umber in the low light—spills over one shoulder.

Bingo.

The monk to your right greets the entrance with a murmured Welcome to the temple, his eyes closed, his steepled fingers pressed to his lips. You side-step him. You also tiptoe around the sleeping drunkard in the back pew who clutches an empty bottle to her chest, the rumbling exhales smelling of liquor.

Your boyfriend doesn't greet you when you settle down near him—a respectable distance of two and a half feet minimum—but he’s fighting back a smile and you wait patiently for him to finish reciting his lines. As Sydney mouths the last few words, his eyes flutter open and crease at the sight of you. You loved his glasses, but you must admit that he looks better like this, adoration for you unfiltered.

“Good evening, my love,” he whispers, reaching across the space to brush the back of your hand. You catch it in his retreat and intertwine your fingers. “What are you doing here?”

“Praying,” you say simply, though you are clearly not.

Still, he hums in accord, squeezes your hand, and resumes his previous posture. At the altar, Jordan finishes setting up the religious artifacts and does a sweeping glance of the space. You wonder what she sees. Monks on the side processing with a sweet-smelling thurible. Initiates carrying the remaining piles of scrolls to the back rooms. Nuns walking around with a donation basket. Temple-goers lining the wall to confess their sins and seek grace. Jordan’s gaze eventually lands on you, and you swear you see an infinitesimal nod of approval before she descends to her usual place in the first pew, pearl-white and spun-silver robes setting her apart from the rest.

Jordan leads the congregation into the next set of prayers by chiming a golden bell that echoes eerily in the space. The temple isn't empty, but the vaulted ceiling, extending into darkness, morphs the sound into something resembling the pained groan of spirits. You kneel, too, feeling wood against bare skin, the holes in your overalls fresh from a forest adventure. You wouldn't call yourself a believer, but you'll take all the help you can get in this town.

You pray for salvation. For the orphanage. For the math project that you still haven’t finished. Sydney’s expression is concentrated now, troubled by the thoughts that plague his mind, but you can’t spend too much time dwelling on it because your own thoughts drift to hopes for the future and how things could be better. The next hour passes quickly behind closed eyes, and with every exhale, you feel your burden lighten.

The calm is interrupted by a nasal:

“A token of appreciation from the faithful, hm?”

The voice comes from a stout nun who stops in front of you, holding out a donation basket and barely missing your elbow. While her smile is neutral, she scans your outfit with thinly veiled contempt, and it's in that judgmental expression that you realize why she's so familiar—it's the one who always has a bone to pick with you and your faith. She swears that you're a fraud (you are) and that you treat the temple like a playground (you do) and that you’ve been tempting temple members in the chambers (you have)—but honestly, that is beside the point. As a woman of the veil, couldn’t one expect more grace from her?

Sydney reaches in front of you to drop in a crumpled £10, which the nun accepts with a sniff of her upturned nose. Tacking on your best customer service smile, you make a big show of rummaging for your wallet and pulling out the crispest £100 you have, courtesy of your last customer at the massage salon.

“Of course, Sister. Anything to support the temple,” you say with conviction you do not feel. “Perhaps this can help buy new curtains for the west wing.”

At your emphasis, the nun flushes down to her neck and stalks away without another word, coins rattling in her basket. You swear she's muttering something about you under her breath, but it doesn't matter; you've clearly won. There’s a beat of silence before Sydney leans over, shoulders shaking.

“Did you know the curtains were burned down last week because she knocked over a candle in her sleep?”

“Why do you think I said it?”

A suppressed laugh that makes his eyes twinkle.

“Oh, you are bad,” he says, and his mirth makes your skin tingle pleasantly.

“Thanks, I try.”

The golden bell rings again, and as one, the congregation sits back onto the pews to shift into the next prayer. It’s one that you kind of know. The language is foreign, some ancient tongue that you never learned, but the cadence is almost melodic, so you mumble along and hope that it’s enough. Their god is a forgiving god, right? Surely your intentions will win over your execution.

.

.

Another hour or two passes in this way. At some point, during another break, Sydney turns to you and asks what you're praying for. For peace, you reply vaguely. Honestly, as it grows later, you've just been trying not to nod off, the lingering effects of treasure hunting in the lake wearing down your muscles. Your watch reads almost midnight, and soon Sirris will emerge from a hidden corner, offering you a ride home before he returns to the Danube mansions with his son. You're banking on it; walking home at this hour would probably invite some unwanted encounters.

Suddenly, there’s a new warmth at your side. A slender man, dressed in a monk’s habit, leans in close and sneers as his chest brushes against your shoulder. A light but intentional caresss. You tense, biting back a yelp of surprise. He takes that—your silence, your stillness, your deer in headlights look—as a sign to continue, resting a hand on your exposed thigh. The tattered overalls. The bastard leans closer still.

“Don’t cause a fuss,” he murmurs, his sickly sweet tone edged with the promise of threat, “or I’ll say you attacked me. Who will they believe?”

Certainly not you. You've been carefully balancing your notoriety; photography sessions with Niki are now monthly instead of weekly, chef shifts at the local café are limited, no more cabaret shows on Friday nights—you’ve even started wearing conservative clothing to keep a low profile. But none of it feels like it’s enough, especially when you still get recognized on the street for your nightclub shifts and the growing list of crimes that have you in hot waters with the police.

This guy? He has a golden pendant around his neck, the center inlaid with a blue gemstone. You're not familiar with the colored rankings, other than the fact that Jordan’s pure diamonds denote her as the head of this temple, but just having a gemstone places him higher than your initiate level, marked by the plain gold cross pendant that dangles on a simple chain.

Before you can say anything, though, Sydney lifts the hand off your thigh, holding it in a crushing grip. A smile is frozen on his face. Despite not being directed at you, the barely masked fury and crazed eyes send a chill down your spine.

“Belief won’t matter because I’ll attack you for real,” he says lowly. Slowly. Letting the words sink in like stones in water.

And unlike yours, Sydney’s reputation does hold weight in the temple. There’s rumors of him being Jordan’s successor decades down the line, but even without the help of those rumors, you know that Sydney is ready to send this man to hell and back for daring to touch you, much less threaten you. Sydney’s grip is steady; the man’s fingers tremble and redden, seconds away from snapping. Sydney’s hand has been around your neck before, but it was always gentle, never more than a loving pressure. Now you lightly brush your sternum, wondering what it would be like to have this energy turned on you.

The man’s life must flash before his eyes because suddenly he has the strength to rip his hand away and scurry to the back of the temple, the worn monk habit swishing at his ankles. Smart move. You don't know who he is, and honestly, you can barely recall his face, but you doubt that he'll be bothering you for a long time.

“Fucking heathens,” Sydney spits at the retreat.

He waits until the man’s figure completely disappears into the shadows. Sydney isn’t much of a fighter, but from the straight line of his shoulders, you don’t doubt that it’d change in a heartbeat.

Then his attention is on you, and his anger crumbles. “Are you alright, love?”

He cups your face in his palms, and you lean into the touch.

“I’m okay,” you say, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

If this happened a year ago, you would’ve been shaking in your boots, bewildered at the audacity of the stranger, but ever since Bailey insisted on weekly payments, you’ve…seen the world. For better and for worse.

Right on time, Sirris strolls over, blissfully unaware. He swings his car keys from a finger. “Ready to go, kids?”

#degrees of lewdity x reader #dol x reader #dol sydney x reader #degrees of lewdity scenarios #dol scenarios #dol sydney scenarios #saeri writes;

[janeaustentextposts]

I'm rereading S&S and wanted to figure out how badly of the Dashwoods were with 500£ a year. How small is that budget for 4 women to live on? Is Sir John being about as generous to them with all his help as John Dashwood initially wanted to be when planning to give each of them an additional 1000£?

I've seen estimates that for a single gentleman to live with the leisure befitting that station (that is, simply not working to earn an income,) would cost about 250 pounds a year, and that's without any 'unnecessaries' like a horse and extra servants. So presumably renting some modest city lodgings and having decent clothes and genteel food; maybe a housekeeper and maid-of-all-work or something (but a servant's wages and the rental of an entire house would take a LOT of that budget, so we're talking maybe some rented rooms and shared landlady/maid services with other tenants.) He absolutely would not be entertaining in his own home.

So when you double that and consider that four women will be living on it...yeah, things like beef and sugar are going to be very very dear. Like the Bateses in Emma, the Dashwood ladies would probably rely on gifts of meat and produce from kind landowning neighbours, and all those dinners and parties Sir John invites them to up and the big house will absolutely save them money on their food budget and give them access to society they otherwise could not afford to mix with.

Elinor would 100% be trying to sneak some leftovers into a Tupperware she brought in her handbag.

A thousand pounds is probably more generous than the help Sir John is giving them; but the point is more that Sir John is actually helping them, while their half-brother is doing dick-all after talking about helping them and being actually generous. Fanny talks him DOWN to "presents of fish and game when they are in season" and then there's zero indication they ever do any of that. (And in practical terms, sending fresh meat or fish from Sussex to Devonshire is just not going to happen before the meat rots.) So Sir John is doing the barest minimum which Mr. John Dashwood decides to do and then...doesn't/cannot.

I think the point is that what people actually will commit to doing matters far more than whatever they may talk of doing.

#Ask Me Anything Austen-Adjacent #AMAAA #Jane Austen #Sense and Sensibility

[topgunreacts]

I do all kinds of sexual dynamics for IceMav because I like variety and it keeps me young. The omegaverse fic is a story of two bottoms taking turns being the top. And I think that’s beautiful.

It exists, and one day when the beta read is over I will post it. Soulmates should be arriving soon. And then you will read about Maverick impulsively marrying a 90-year-old man thinking there’s no way the old man will still be around by the time he meets his soulmate. Get this: that does not happen. Also, he does not have a fugly dog in this one, so not part of the MFUDEU.

For no reason, here is a first draft sneak peek of the start of the IceMav soulmates AU: The Heart is an Empty Room. If you see mistakes then no you didn’t.

It was a lovely mid-June evening in sunny San Diego. A light breeze danced through the trees in the backyard, and the temperature was so perfect there wasn’t a running air conditioner in sight. Flowers in full bloom scattered their heady perfume into the air. All the birds had gone to roost in the canopies and shrubs, chattering at one another over the sound of distant waves crashing into the sand. In the sky, a sliver of a moon hung like a shard of broken glass over the land.

Maverick Mitchell was standing in the expansive kitchen of a rented seaside villa, counting medication. Most of the other TOPGUN students were at the bars, or someone’s house, drinking. Tonight was every student’s last free evening before an intense six weeks of training. Consequently, the average Lieutenant chose drinks and revelry to celebrate his impending aviation glory. Even Goose, the consummate father and steady husband, was somewhere out there throwing back shots until last call. At Miramar, Goose didn’t have to worry about babysitters and not waking the wife. He’d tried to drag Maverick along with him. But Maverick had refused. So there Maverick stood before a quartzite countertop—not a tumbler or shot glass in sight—sorting colored capsules and pills into a two-tiered organizer. The only bottles he planned on opening tonight came from the pharmacy, and contained various forms of prescribed liquids that Maverick knew better than to sample.

Generally speaking, Maverick filled the organizer on Sunday mornings. It was a quiet time on a quiet day, and thus offered the fewest distractions. But this morning he’d woken up late and had to prioritize his errands, and so here he was now, counting on a Sunday evening instead of meeting his peers and future competitors. He’d wanted to go. But there were many things in the world more important than bar hopping. Things such as this medication, and ensuring its ingestion.

It didn’t matter. There would be other chances to let his hair down. Other parties, other chances to mingle. Unlike Maverick, Goose hadn’t flown in until yesterday, and he’d already met a few other aviators who told him that the night after the first session was when the real parties began. Allegedly, nobody got too wild. They were there to learn, after all. So long as everyone got enough sleep to tell the difference between the left and right rudder pedals, no harm no foul. And apparently, things quieted down around week two.

All of this, Maverick knew secondhand. Yes, he’d been in San Diego for an entire month before the other students started showing up, but there’d been endless chores to do and errands to run—thus, no time to gossip or gather intel. Not that Maverick had anyone to blame for that business but himself. Some of the things he’d done—not just that weekend, but all the days since his arrival—fell under the purview of Elise: the cook and housekeeper that had come with the rental property. Maverick did not need to buy the groceries, take the dogs in for their vaccines, vacuum, or wash the linens. But he’d done all four of those chores and more. Chore after chore, errand after errand, some of them unnecessary and others nonsensical—anything, anything, to distract himself from the numbers on his wrist ticking down like a timer on a pipe bomb. If making a second trip to the library in one day helped stifle the sinking feeling in his stomach, then Maverick would do it. If mowing a lawn that didn’t need to be mowed abetted the stress so white-hot it altered his senses and made his back ache, then it was worth it.

Goose had told him to stop looking at his soulmark—a curiously dour order from a typically upbeat man. Back when they first met, Goose had told Maverick about the day he met his own soulmate Carole. It was the stuff of rom coms: they’d each watched the time tick down on their wrists while keeping an eye on the wrong person—Carole, a handsome woman at the bar, and Goose, a fresh young thing playing darts. When they finally made contact, they hadn’t meant to at all. The dart player sneezed, prompting Goose to take a step backward, which sent him straight into Carole, who’d been ready to flee the room after the woman at the bar coolly dismissed her.

Ass over teakettle they went, two humans transforming into a single pile of flustered limbs on the floor. The sustained contact when they helped one another up was enough to seal the bond. By the time they made eye contact, they already knew one another’s hearts. Sparks flew, Goose said. And that ironclad soulbond marking them as a pair settled down between them like an old dog: comfortably, and with a heaving sigh—as though all of creation had been watching the whole time, saying: finally.

Then it was Maverick’s turn to tell the story of his mark. His wasn’t half as whimsical. He’d been one of those desperately troubled kids growing up: a tragic orphan bouncing from foster family to foster family, whose soulmark kept him company when it felt like the whole world was against him. On bad days, Maverick would find a closet or a cupboard somewhere and crawl inside. There, he would tilt his wrist to catch the light and watch the numbers go down. In five thousand days, Maverick would Meet his soulmate. In four thousand days, everything would be just fine. In three thousand days, Maverick would know unconditional love.

Those temporal thoughts were like life jackets keeping him afloat for the longest time. Even after he enlisted, Maverick found himself touching that mark like a lucky stone, willing the future to get here faster. But then he went to France on shore leave, and everything changed. When Goose, fresh from telling his beautiful love story, found out what happened that rainy night in Paris, his mouth dropped open in shock. Once the horror wore off a few days later, Goose wanted to know a few more details, and Maverick provided them. Each new piece of information only served to astound Goose even further.

But he’d stayed by Maverick’s side, troubled history and all. He’d defended Maverick, uplifted him, and given him sound advice. Years later—two months before the kitchen where Maverick counted pills—Goose was sitting next to Maverick on the couch in his Key West sitting room, watching his best friend count the hours down to TOPGUN. Then, Maverick had been staring at his wrist not in joyful anticipation but abject horror, and Goose gave him another bit of sound advice: “Mav. Stop looking at it.”

Not that it would help. The time on Maverick’s wrist did not stop the way he hoped it would. His sorrow was in vain. The numbers kept ticking down and down. In—Maverick lowered a pill bottle and checked his wrist—twenty hours, fourteen minutes, and eleven seconds, Maverick would Meet his soulmate. But here was the thing: he didn’t want to. Once, he’d placed his future love on a pedestal. And now, that person was a nuisance. An unwelcome visitor. Maverick hadn’t wanted things to be this way. But they were. Running was not an option. No one could escape the Meeting.

#icemav #top gun #writing #top gun fanfiction #soulmates au #previews #the heart is an empty room #get fuckin hyped #ask me anything #I’m bad at posting unprompted

[exololyunho]

one of those nights

subtitle: where you get a little drunk and have a threesome with your boyfriend and his best friend because you both think he's hot and said friend hadn’t gotten laid in months

warnings: THREESOME, mxm, teensy bit of anal, cuckholding?, sexy wrestling, kissing, choking, yungi has done this before, unprotected and protected sex, spanking, dirty talk, name calling, yunho bites mingi, established bf yunho, blowjob, everyone cums

wc: 9.1k

What had started as a mere suggestion to be polite turned into you hosting a post album recording party for Ateez. They had just finished recording their last Japanese album and were gearing up for their last comeback a few months from now. 

Hongjoong had been talking about inviting all the partners of the various group members over that night for some drinks and movies while you were sitting at their dining table enjoying coffee one morning. You, Hongjoong, San, and Miyeon, Hongjoong’s girlfriend, were lazing about while Seonghwa cleaned up after Wooyoung as he made breakfast. The rest of the boys were still asleep. 

You had volunteered once Seonghwa had started complaining about all the unnecessary cleaning he’d have to do before they could come over. You had all told him that was silly since the apartment was always uncharacteristically clean for a small place housing 8 full grown men. Your apartment, on the other hand, was about the same square footage as their place, but only had two bedrooms instead of their four. It was also always pristine due to your housekeeper, Mrs. Lee, who came once a week to deep clean the place while you were there, and once a month when you were away. 

Usually, Mrs. Lee would bring you whatever delicious food she had made for her husband when she came, insisting that you try her newest recipe. She was a sweet, elderly lady who cleaned houses after she had retired from her job as a librarian. Your neighbor had recommended her to you when you had when you mentioned you were often gone for work.

“Are you sure, Y/n,” Hongjoong’s arm was around Miyeon as he sipped his coffee.

You waved your hand dismissively. “Sure it’ll be no problem. You guys just won’t be able to spend the night unless you want to camp out in my living room and fight over the spare room.”

“And listen to you and Yunho fuck? No thanks,” Wooyoung's loud laugh rang from the kitchen and you rolled your eyes as a blush crept onto your cheeks but you did your best to hide it, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Shut up, bastard,” Yunho had finally rolled out of bed. His sandy blonde hair was messy and his eyes bleary as he sat in the chair beside you. Instead of greeting you, he pulled you from your chair, dragging you into his lap before he buried his face in your shoulder. When you asked if he wanted coffee, he just shook his head, not bothering to lift it and tightening his arms around your waist to keep you seated. 

You were still facing everyone else at the table so you and Hongjoong continued to discuss the details. He insisted on buying all the snacks the members would consume while you agreed to provide the alcohol if they could get you a list of what everyone wanted. He agreed easily and the conversation gradually drifted to other topics. 

Wooyoung called that breakfast was finished and had disappeared to wake the missing members just as you and Seonghwa, who had joined you all at the table to discuss planning for the evening, had started your interrogation of San. He had recently introduced you all to his new boyfriend, a man younger than him by a few years named Hosung. Hosung was a college student as well as a barista and bartender who San had hooked up with after a concert about two months ago. The two had hit it off well and had recently started dating officially. You wanted to know all the dirty details while Seonghwa wanted to know on which pieces of his precious furniture they had fucked on. Miyeon watched on with a smile while Hongjoong complained it was too early to be talking about this. San had coyly answered your questions and dodged Seonghwa’s until he had enough. 

Right before Seonghwa start yelling when San told him they exclusively had sex on Seonghwa’s bed, Mingi, Jongho, and Yeosang followed Wooyoung into the room and the table was set. 

When you had pulled yourself from Yunho’s arms to sit properly in a seat between him and Mingi, he whined but settled for resting his big hand on your thigh as you all ate. About halfway through breakfast, Hongjoong had told the remaining members of the gathering at your place this evening.

“Yeosang,” you turned to face the man a few seats away, “feel free to bring Dayeon. You can bring your girlfriend, too, Mingi.”

Mingi cringed and flushed red. “We, uh, broke up a week ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Yunho’s hand that was on your thigh moved to rub Mingi’s back, resting his arm on your shoulders in the process.

“It wasn’t working well.”

“She hadn’t touched him in months,” Wooyoung supplied unhelpfully. Seonghwa hit him across the back of the head. 

With a scathing look to Wooyoung who looked sheepish while he held his head, you turned back to Mingi. “We’ll cheer you up, don’t worry.”

He gave you a grateful smile before helping himself to more pancakes. 

The rest of the morning passed by quickly and before long you were saying goodbye to the members and kissing Yunho on your way out the door.

With the list of alcohol in hand, you made a quick stop at the store outside your apartment building to gather up what the boys had requested. It came out to two bottles of wine, seventeen bottles of soju in varying flavors and three cases of beer along with some sodas and other mixers.

It was so much, the store clerk and one of his coworkers from the back offered to help you carry it all. With the bottles of wine and some of the soda in a bag, you led them next door to your building.

“Big party?” The clerk asked. He was an older gentleman who had graying hair and many laugh lines. The boy with him was quickly introduced to you as his son.

“Some of my boyfriend’s coworkers just finished a big project at work,” you weren’t lying exactly, but he didn’t need to know the truth. “Here we are!” 

You unlocked your door and led them inside. They deposited the cases they were carrying on your white countertops. You tipped them about 70,000 won for their trouble and they thanked you quickly before leaving to return to their store. 

Once alone, you quickly sorted all the drinks into rows in your fridge, shaking your head at the sheer amount of alcohol now taking up nearly a quarter of the space in your large silver fridge. Resigning yourself to the chaos that was going to unfold in about seven hours, you decided to relax under a blanket on the couch until you needed to get up and prepare, making a mental list as you did.

Your apartment was clean, but you still felt the need to straighten the pillows on your couch and vacuum a little bit. You also needed to pull out just about all of the blankets you owned from the linen closet as once the movies started it would turn into one big cuddle puddle. 

Just as you were making a mental checklist, your front door opened and Yunho entered with the key you had given him when you bought the place. He didn’t see you immediately, removing his shoes and jacket in the entryway and hanging up his keys on his designated hook by the door. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt which you took a moment to appreciate while he was scanning the large, open kitchen/dining room/living room.

When he found you, his eyes lit up. He used the distance between you to get a running start before jumping and flopping down on top of you. You groaned as his heavy frame landed on you and he began to pepper your face with kisses.

“Yunho!”

“I missed you, baby” he’d given up on the kisses by now and was just laying flat on top of you. Usually, you didn’t mind being crushed under him, but breathing was a little difficult with a 6’1 monster of a man squeezing the breath out of you.

With some shoving and promises of kisses, you finally got him to get off of you. He took a seat on the couch and you instantly cuddled up to him, legs thrown over his as you wrapped the blanket around you two.

He claimed his reward of kisses, slowly and steadily while your hand gripped the front of his shirt. When you parted, he lent his forehead against yours while your shared breaths heated the air between you. The hand he had gripping your hip relaxed to sit gently on your thigh.

You both stayed silent for a moment, enjoying how quiet it was, something you hardly got at his dorms. It was him who broke the silence as he shifted away from you to lean back against the couch. You shifted your legs off him causing his hand to slide to your other leg. You settled against him, legs pressed together.

“I missed you.”

“It’s been two hours, Yunho,” you giggled and leaned against him more.

“Too long,” his eyes closed, arm holding you tight to him.

“Well, I’m all yours until 8.” You sent a glance towards the clock on the wall near the hall to your room. “You’ve got about six hours until they start to show up.”

“Six hours is too short, baby,” he protested, large brown eyes opening to meet your gaze.

“Nonsense. There’s a lot we can do in six hours,” your hand fell from his chest to his thigh.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Like what, baby?”

“Well, we couldn’t exactly get a lot of alone time yesterday with you and San sharing a room and before that you were shooting all week…” you bit your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “It’s been a while since we’ve had so much time alone.”

His eyes were growing darker each passing second. They slid over you before settling for staring at your lips before. His own lips were chapped, probably from the twelve hour days on set for his newest drama that had recently wrapped and the way he bit them when he was stressed.

Silence grew again between you, but it was thicker this time as his eyes rose to meet yours in a heated stare. Instead of breaking the silence with words, you decided actions spoke louder. Removing yourself from his grasp, you slid onto the floor between his already spread legs. They widened a bit to accommodate you as his eyes never left yours.

As you sat between his legs, you allowed your hands to find his knees. With your eyes locked on his you slid your hands up his legs, leaning closer as you did, not a sound leaving either of you. 

When they reached the point where his hips met his long, toned legs, he finally made a noise. Yunho breathed out a low groan and you took that as your cue to really begin.

By the time you two were a sweaty heap on your bed, you had managed to kill four hours. You were worse off than he was by far. His cum leaked out of you and several new marks joined the nearly faded ones he had left a week ago on your chest. Mercifully, he had all but avoided your throat, meaning you probably didn’t have to wear a turtleneck tonight.

He wasn’t as lucky. Usually, you couldn’t leave marks on him because it would ruin his image if you did. That and the fact that when he was in control, which was most of the time, there was no way you could get near his neck. But because he had no schedules for at least a week and the way he had been vulnerable while recovering from the blow job you had given him on your couch, you’d managed to get him good on the left side of his neck.

Laying tangled together in bed was interrupted by an alarm sounding from your phone that had been discarded in the living room. With a groan, you sat up to go shut off the device that was blaring the sound that signaled it was 6:30, time to prepare. Before you could get out of bed, Yunho stopped you.

“Go shower, I’ll take care of it.”

You gave him a kiss and a thank you as you hauled yourself up and into your ensuite bathroom. Once there, you turned on the overhead and mirror lights to try and get a good view of the damage he had done.

You anticipated the marks and were pleased to find you were correct in your assumption that they didn’t extend all the way to your neck. Before you let yourself really assess the marks, you turned on the large shower to let the water heat up.

Returning to the mirror, you were pleased to find Yunho had painted a trail of love bites and hickies from your left shoulder to your right breast. You allowed your fingers to follow their path to where a few marks circled your nipple and it’s piercing.

It was with your hand on your breast that Yunho found you. He opened the door to the  steamy bathroom, pausing to give an appreciative scan of your naked body and the tattoos and bruises that painted it. He didn’t hesitate long though and quickly pressed himself to your back.

His hand replaced yours and he gave your breast a gentle squeeze with his huge hand. It was then, while he was taking in the sight of both of you naked and pressed together in the mirror that he realized he had a few marks of his own. He stepped away from you to lean into the mirror but kept one hand on your back, the other prodding at the hickies with his fingertips. His eyes met yours through the mirror and a smirk crept onto his face. 

“Sneaky girl,” his eyes left the mirror and he leant back against the counter, tugging you towards him by the waist. “When’d you leave that?”

“On the couch, after I…” you trailed off, not being able to say it. Your eyes traveled from his to the mirror where you had a lovely view of his built back, the tree tattoo on his spine, and your self satisfied but blushing face peering over his shoulder. It brought an even wider smile to your face.

“Mmm, I like it,” you could feel his hardening dick against your thigh. “I think I’ll leave it for everyone to see.”

When you tried to bury your face in his chest, he caught your chin and redirected your face to his, attaching your lips to his. The kiss grew heated fast, with his tongue bullying its way into your mouth. 

You forced yourself away. “Shower,” you panted, but he quickly pulled your mouth back to his as he walked you backwards. Steady hands on your hips assured you that he wouldn't let you fall.

When he walked you into the shower, he passed the two of you directly through the warm spray of the waterfall shower head, causing you to break away again with a loud gasp. Your hair stuck to your face as you stared into his hooded eyes. With a groan that was nearly a growl, he spun you so your back was to him and pushed you against the wall before he once again had his way with you.

By the time you escaped the shower, you only had about 20 minutes to dress and clean your apartment. You had once again gotten lucky and the only new addition to the marks on your body was a rather deep one on the back of your neck. 

Yunho had left you to blow dry your hair as he collected your clothes from the living room and straightened everything up so it wasn’t as obvious you two had spent the last few hours fucking. Your hair was mostly dry and you had abandoned the bathroom in favor of pulling loose shorts and one of Yunho’s hoodies onto you when the doorbell rang. Thankfully, Yunho was still in the living room and he answered the door. 

The usual greetings from the more mature members were drowned out by the sounds of Wooyoung and San’s laughs as they loudly made comments about the marks on Yunho’s neck. You had tried to chase him down with concealer, but he had fought you off rather easily. You gave up trying just as quickly and resigned yourself to the teasing remarks and jokes you were both sure to endure. 

With a sigh, you made your way out of your room where San, Wooyoung, Hojung, San’s boyfriend, Hongjoong, and Miyeon were crowded around the island in the kitchen. Yunho was standing next to Wooyoung, who was forcing him to turn his head to bear the marks you had left him. Your boyfriend had a proud smirk on his face that only grew when he saw you approaching.

You slapped Wooyoung’s hand away from Yunho and squeezed between them to tuck yourself under his arm.

“At least Y/n doesn’t look like she was attacked with a vacuum cleaner,” San remarked as he regarded your appearance.

“You just can’t see all of her,” if it was possible, Yunho looked even more proud of himself as San and Wooyoung howled while Hongjoong muttered ‘gross’.

You slapped Yunho’s chest before pulling his arm off you. You grabbed Miyeon’s and Hojung’s hands guiding them to your couch, but not before snagging a bottle of apple soju out of the fridge.

The three of you settled down, with you and Miyeon sitting close together on the couch and Hojung taking a seat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. You both watched in fascination as Miyeon twirled the bottle before snapping the lid off. Conversation came easily as the three of you shared sips until the bottle was empty.

Miyeon was in the middle of her story about how one of the idols she dressed had ripped his pants while trying to impress a female idol with his taekwondo moves when the doorbell rang again. It was the rest of the boys with all the snacks for the evening, including four large pizzas. 

The three of you watched with fondness as the number of men in your kitchen doubled in size and volume. They embraced each other as if they didn’t already live together and had seen each other probably as recently as 30 minutes ago.

Doyeon, Yeosang’s girlfriend, fled from the group of men to come sit on the far side of Hojung, farther away from the kitchen, on the floor. She was a quiet girl but so incredibly beautiful. The two of you were well acquainted as you’d both been dating Ateez members for a while now, but she wasn’t as open as Miyeon and Hojung were so you wouldn’t exactly consider her a friend, more an acquaintance than anything.

She listened with rapt attention as Miyeon continued her story about the ripped pants, while your eyes were drawn to the men in your kitchen. Specifically, Yunho, whose shirt rose as he reached for the paper plates in your cupboards, revealing the slightest bit of toned stomach.

Hojung’s hand resting on your folded legs broke you out of your trance. He had a half smirk and wide, teasing eyes. “He’s so hot, right?”

You laughed, teasing him back. “Keep your hands off him, you’ve already got one dancer, leave this one to me.”

“That I will,” his eyes trailed over the men as Miyeon and Doyeon had their own conversation going next to you. “I’ve got enough to focus on.”

His eyes were darting between San AND Wooyoung. Your mouth fell open with shock and before you could ask him about their relationship, the men were bounding into the living room.

Yunho had his hands full of napkins and paper plates which he quickly deposited on the table behind Hojung before sitting next to you, arm slung around your shoulder. Before you knew it, you were surrounded by the men, all carrying something necessary like alcohol, pizza, and all sorts of other snacks and drinks.

Yeosang had pushed himself between Doyeon and Hojung, likely to serve as a calm buffer between her and the chaotic struggle that was about to happen. Wooyoung bullied his way into the small space between Hojung and Yeosang while San claimed his boyfriend's other side. Hongjoong had settled on the far side of Miyeon and she happily leaned back against him. Jongho had opted for the safest option of taking the armchair next to Hongjoong so he didn’t get smashed by the pile of couples on the couch and surrounding floor. Seonghwa took the couch space next to Yunho. That left Mingi, staring at the pile of people, contemplating where to sit.

Before he could settle on the floor in front of the coffee table, you scooted closer into Yunho’s side and pushed Miyeon slightly towards Hongjoong, creating a space that was barely big enough for the tall man but would work. You’d seen him force himself into smaller spaces before. 

“Here, Mingi,” you patted the spot and he nodded. Yunho kissed the top of your head while Mingi was navigating his way around the people on the floor. Once he had settled in and his leg was pressing against yours, the boys on the floor started passing out pizza, snacks, and alcohol. Miyeon had snatched the remote and was now turning on the tv to search for the first movie of the night. 

When everyone had their food, Miyeon asked for suggestions and there were shouts from nearly everyone except yourself, Doyeon and Hongjoong. Arguing broke out between San and Wooyoung as San wanted ‘Mean Girls’ and Wooyoung insisted on one of your movies but you quickly shot him down. San, thinking he had won, turned to Miyeon smugly but was shut down by multiple boys yelling no at him.

“Alright!” Miyeon had them quiet in an instant. “Why don’t we let our host pick since she so generously let us crash her quiet night in.”

That wasn’t true. No matter where the group held the get together, you would have been in this exact position and it would have been nowhere near a quiet night but you let it slide, smiling while groans echoed out.

“Jurassic Park,” more groans came but Miyeon’s smile matched your own as she navigated the streaming service.

When Wooyoung got even more vocal about his disappointment, Miyeon instructed Mingi to whack him, and the tall man eagerly obeyed.

“If you’re so disappointed, make it a drinking game. Drink every time you see a dinosaur. I’m sure you’ll love it after that,” Wooyoung seemed to like this idea and he quieted down, opening his first beer.

Everyone but you, Yunho, Doyeon, Miyeon, and Hongjoong decided to participate in the game, instead taking sips when you felt like it. Seonghwa and Mingi had tried to participate but had given up 20 minutes in. Jongho gave up around the 30 minute mark and Yeosang quit not long after. Hojung, Wooyoung, and San gave it their best, but by the time the movie finished Hojung was slumped against Wooyoung, asleep and San was close behind him.

You offered them your spare room, but they declined and a drunk Wooyoung herded them to the door. Yeosang and Doyeon would make sure they got home safe, citing their own exhaustion since Doyeon was in the middle of a solo comeback, but you figured their exit was more to do with their combined social anxiety and wish for some alone time than a genuine fear the trio wouldn’t make it home.

Once they had left with many goodbyes, the fighting over the next movie returned, although it was less intense with the main instigators Wooyoung and San gone. However, that just left room for two more to take their place.

This time it was Yunho and Mingi, both of them grabbing you as you sat between them. It started as them gripping your arms while shouting about ‘Zootopia’ versus ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’. It escalated when one of Mingi's large hands landed on your thigh as he leaned in to shout at Yunho. Yunho mirrored him and they were face to face over you. You had never felt so small and it ignited something in you that you had thought Yunho’s hours of loving had extinguished for the foreseeable future.

You shrunk back into the couch as their argument continued. When the two men were so close it looked like they might kiss, you decided enough was enough.

“Pirates!” you shouted, somehow both sad and eager to end their fighting and proximity. “Let’s watch the pirate movie.”

Both men turned their attention to you. You swallowed and nodded as Mingi smiled, clearly happy he had won. He moved away and sat back on the couch but his hand didn’t leave your thigh. Neither did Yunho’s. 

Miyeon was staring at you, mouth slightly agape before she unfroze and quickly put on the film.

Moments later, when you reached for a can of beer on the table, Mingi’s hand didn’t move. Yunho’s hand did, though, shifting to your lower back as you leaned forward before settling right back on your thigh once you returned to your position.

You wanted to cross your legs to alleviate some of the tension between them, but both mens hands were heavy on your legs. They left you feeling like you couldn’t move them even if you tried. So instead you sat there, between them as you sipped your beer and tried to focus on the plot of the movie. Neither man had drunk very much and no one had brought up Mingi’s break up, probably in an attempt to keep him from drinking himself stupid like San, Wooyoung, and Hojung had.

By the time the movie had finished, Seonghwa and Jongho were starting to nod off and Miyeon and Hongjoong were trading hungry looks as she sat on his lap. You had barely moved, the heat from Yunho and Mingi’s hands leaking from your slightly open thighs up to your core.

When everyone else stood, you, Yunho, and Mingi stayed seated, although Mingi did remove his hand from your leg.

“Mingi, are you coming back with us?” Seonghwa broke the silence.

The man beside you shook his head. “I’ll help them clean and stay in the guest room, if that’s ok?”

You nodded quickly, “Of course.”

It wasn’t that odd. Mingi would regularly stay at your place when Yunho was here. The three of you often had smaller movie nights or just hung out in general. Your boyfriend’s best friend had quickly become close to you and regularly stayed the night after busy schedules when he needed a break from the hectic dorm life they usually endured. Although, Mingi never stayed the night when Yunho wasn’t here. There was a line that had been unconsciously drawn and you had a feeling all three of you might leap over it soon.

Yunho expressed how much he loved seeing you and Mingi grow close. You were some of the most important people in his life and seeing your friendship blossom meant the world to him.

While the others readied themselves to leave, you forced leftover pizza into Jongho’s hands, insisting you couldn’t eat it all. The youngest rolled his eyes and messed up your hair. You swatted at him while laughing. You two were the closest in age and had bonded over it. He even jokingly called you ‘noona’ despite the fact you were younger than him.

The four of them left, leaving you with Yunho and Mingi who had finished cleaning up for the most part and were now rolling around, wrestling on the floor.

You stood, several feet out of the danger zone, to appreciate the view. Mingi’s shirt was riding up as he and Yunho rolled back and forth. The tease of his toned abs were hard to ignore but you forced yourself to clear your throat.

Yunho was straddling Mingi as he pinned his arms to the ground when both men looked up. With their messed up hair, twisted clothes, and panting breaths, they both looked delicious. With their eyes on you, you felt self conscious all of a sudden.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Possibly,” your boyfriend let go of Mingi’s arms, sitting up fully now. His suggestive smirk was back. “Why? Wanna join?” 

Yes. Immediately yes. “Was just curious about how much you’re going to mess up my rug.”

Neither man was buying it, you could tell. Yunho had that look on his face that he got whenever he wanted to bring something new into the bedroom. And judging from the situation, that something was Mingi.

The aforementioned man, still laying on the floor, let his hands move from beside his head to Yunho’s thighs that were still trapping his hips. His sharp eyes were looking you over in a way that ignited the spark he had left with his hand earlier. Yunho glanced down at him before looking back at you several times.

When he seemed to decide that your widening eyes and pressed together legs were enough encouragement for the moment. He switched his focus entirely to Mingi.

With one large hand, he took a handful of the man beneath him’s shirt, slamming their lips together. You and Mingi both let out gasps, but Mingi quickly got over his shock. His hands gripped Yunho’s thighs tighter and he kissed him back just as aggressively. 

Their power struggle took much longer than the one between you and Yunho usually did. Eventually, though, Yunho had Mingi keening after every swipe of his tongue. You knew your mouth was wide open but you couldn’t bring yourself to close it.

When they eventually broke apart, breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes, lips swollen and hips pressed tightly together, you decided you needed a drink. Turning your back to them, you snatched an unopened bottle of soju off the counter. 

The crack of the lid opening drew their attention and before you could even take a sip, Yunho was on you. He pulled the bottle from your fingers and set it back on the counter. His lips were wet and he had a wild look in his eyes.

“If we’re going to do this,” he began, his hand finding its home around your throat. “I need you as sober as you can be.”

You nodded mutely.

“Good girl,” Mingi drew your attention to him as he was suddenly almost as close to you as Yunho. His eyes were just as dark as his and a smirk was playing on his lips.

“Are you ok with this, Y/n?” Yunho drew your attention back to him, his hand falling to your hip.

“Have you-” your voice failed you and you cleared your throat, eyes darting between the two men. “Have you done this before?”

They shared a look that spoke volumes.

“A few times. Before you came into the picture,” it was Mingi that spoke up. He had settled himself behind you, firm chest pressed against your back and fingers tracing over Yunho’s hand on you. “In my opinion, it’s been too long.” His mouth was right by your ear now and you tried to turn to face him, but he stopped you. “Look at him. It was always less about the girls and more about us. Now though,” his other hand was creeping up to take over holding you by the throat. You could barely contain the moan his action created.  You felt like your whole body was way too hot and you were probably soaking wet in your panties. “I think you might hold my attention almost as much as he does.”

Yunho was staring at the two of you, hunger in his eyes. If you weren’t sure before, you definitely were now. 

“If you let us Y/n, we’ll take good care of you,” Mingi was damn near purring in your ear now. You could feel his erection pressed against your back.

“Yes,” your voice was small, but it was enough. In a combined effort, you were tugged towards Yunho and flipped to face Mingi. He was on you in an instant, lips dominating yours. His tongue swiping into your mouth nearly broke you. That, combined with Yunho grinding himself into your back caused whimper after whimper to fall into Mingi’s mouth. He ate up every noise greedily. That was the best way to describe how he kissed: greedy. His tongue tangled with yours, tasting every inch of your mouth.

You were so wrapped up in clinging to him while he devoured you, you almost missed Yunho’s lips connecting with your neck.

“Bedroom,” you forced yourself away from Mingi, breathing hard. “Please.”

Mingi looked at Yunho and you felt him nod. Yunho released you and Mingi picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You squealed and tried to squirm but a firm swat to your ass and a husky, “Stop moving.” forced you still.

When you had reached your bedroom, Mingi gently set your feet on the ground. As soon as you were stable his lips were back on yours and his hands were grabbing your ass. You clung to him, trying to keep up with his lips. 

A hand met yours that was laying against Mingi’s chest. With a start, you pulled away from Mingi. It was Yunho, pressed against his back. He was smirking at you while Mingi’s lips moved to your neck. As he sucked and nibbled, Yunho guided your hand down Mingi’s front to the bulge in his jeans. 

With your eyes locked, you took your lower lip between your teeth. Yunho’s hand was guiding yours to rub back and forth across the seam of Mingi’s pants. His other hand was gripping Mingi’s waist tightly and his mouth had met Mingi’s neck while his eyes stayed locked on yours. As Yunho moved your hand faster, applying more pressure, Mingi started releasing low groans against your neck as his lips stalled. 

When Yunho withdrew his hand from yours, you kept up with the movements he had started. All three of you were panting and so incredibly turned on, despite the fact that you were all fully clothed.

With one final nip at the neck of the man in front of him, Yunho broke your gaze and moved away from Mingi. Mingi had recovered and grown used to your hand grinding against him and had started pushing his hips into your hand while his mouth resumed sucking on your neck. When Yunho left your vision, your eyes fell shut. You could hear him moving around the room, but all you could focus on was Mingi’s hands kneading your ass and his hips rutting into your hand.

“Mingi,” Yunho’s deep voice drew both of your attention. He was standing by the nightstand on the right side of your bed. In his hand was a condom. He tossed it to Mingi who caught it with one hand he removed from your ass. “Fuck her.”

“Gladly,” Mingi had an almost evil look in his eyes. He took his other hand off your ass to push you backwards. You stumbled a bit, but he made sure you made it safely. Within seconds of crawling onto your bed, Mingi had you stripped. 

Yunho’s hands under your arms startled you but he simply pulled you up the bed while Mingi shed his own clothes. When he had you settled against his chest, your own legs hiked over his spread ones, his hands guided your arms to cross under your breasts. 

“Don’t move them,” his voice was low and his breath was warm against your ear as you eagerly nodded. With your confirmation, he released your arms to palm your breasts.

He was tweaking your nipples as you both fixed your eyes on Mingi. The tall man at the foot of your bed had started moving towards the pair of you. His eyes were fixed on the place between your open legs. You squirmed, itching to close your legs as his gaze made you self conscious, but Yunho put a stop to that with a quick slap to your left breast that made a high keening noise spill out of you. 

Mingi had a look of satisfaction on his face as he finally knelt between your legs. “Think she’s wet enough?”

The way he talked over you to ask Yunho brought even more heat between your legs. 

“Mmm probably,” Mingi’s hands laid heavy on your thighs as he kept his gaze on Yunho. “Slut always gets wet from just making out. It’s adorable.”

You couldn’t help the whimper you let out when Yunho referred to you as ‘slut’ or anything equally as demeaning. He didn’t say it often, preferring to call you sweet names, but when he did call you that, it meant you were in for a long night. Although, you weren’t sure if you could handle more than a few rounds after Yunho had fucked you earlier.

Mingi’s grin grew at the noise you made. One of his long fingers moved to your slit to run a finger down you. It made your breath hitch. 

“Looks like you were right,” he held his finger up to Yunho’s mouth. It was shining in the light from how wet you were. Yunho eagerly took it in his mouth. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the groan that came from him when he tasted you and the soft sounds of him sucking on Mingi’s finger.

He quickly yanked his finger from Yunho’s mouth, though, with a hiss as your boyfriend’s chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Don’t bite me, dickhead.”

“I’ll bite you all I want since you’re about to fuck my girlfriend,” Yunho’s voice was teasing, but it was getting deeper by the second. “And don’t pretend you don’t love it, whore.”

You gasped. You weren’t expecting Yunho to use the degrading names that were reserved for when the darkest side of him came out on Mingi. The man between your lengths blushed and swallowed hard. His dick had twitched when Yunho had called him ‘whore’ and you assumed, correctly, that Mingi enjoyed that. A lot.

“Get on with it,” Yunho reached a hand out to grab a harsh handful of Mingi’s hair. He drew his face close to his own, leaving yours smashed into Mingi’s firm chest. “Or I’ll fuck her and you can watch and jerk yourself off all night.”

You couldn’t see much aside from Mingi’s pecs, but you heard the rough kiss Yunho gave him. It was brief, as he was shoving Mingi back and hiking your legs up in a fluid motion that left your head spinning.

Mingi caught on and was tearing the condom open and sliding it on as fast as he could. Once his task was completed, he lined himself up with you. You took the time to really assess his dick as he swiped the head through your folds to wet himself. He wasn’t as long as Yunho, but he was just as thick, if not a little thicker. He looked like he’d fill you up nicely.

“One more thing,” Yunho was holding you still as he leaned over to your bedside table for something. You weren’t sure what he was doing but you figured it out quickly when the buzzing of your favorite vibrator started. He wasted no time in placing it on your sensitive clit, both you and Mingi jerking as it brushed the head of his cock. You really hoped you didn’t pass out. Yunho had made you cum four times earlier today and from the way you already felt yourself rocketing skywards again, you had no doubt he was aiming for what felt like an impossibly high number of orgasms tonight as well.

Your shaking body and foggy head made you nearly miss Yunho’s next words. “Make it mean, Mingi.”

That was all the encouragement he needed to harshly thrust himself forward. It ripped a loud, stuttered moan from you as your legs trembled. He didn’t give you any time to adjust and on his second thrust in, you came, helped along by Yunho’s hand that was now pressing against your throat and the vibrator that had been turned up two settings. 

Even with your vision going black and your body writhing as the sensations overcame you, they didn’t stop. Mingi continued his thrusting and Yunho didn’t lift the vibrator until tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you were begging for a break. Yunho tossed the vibrator onto the sheets beside him, bringing his newly freed hand up to grope one of your breasts. 

Every movement of Mingi’s hips against yours brought shaky whines and gasps to your lips. He was harsh but god it was so good. Not as good as when Yunho fucked you, but he had an advantage as he had a few years to learn what made you tick. Mingi was catching up quickly, though. One of his thrusts hit that spot inside you that had you arching against Yunho’s body and moaning louder than before. The satisfied look on his face let you know that now he knew exactly where to aim. Each of his thrusts became much more targeted as he kept up a steady, fast, and hard hitting rhythm that brought more tears to your face and moans to your lips. 

You could feel Yunho’s hardon pressing into your back as he let out minuscule moans and panting breaths against your ear each time Mingi’s thrusts jerked your body. His hips were lifting a bit to grind against you, and even though Mingi was fucking you like it was his last chance (because it might be), you wanted Yunho. But you could have Yunho almost any day of the week and right now Mingi’s thrusts, the feeling of him rubbing against you in the best way, and the way your boyfriend held you had you close again.

From the look on Mingi’s face, he wasn’t far behind you. His mouth had dropped open and his eyes were narrowed almost shut. Sweat had his hair clinging to his forehead and dripping down his chest in such a delicious way.

“Look at how fucking hot he is, fucking you,” Yunho’s voice was breathy. It caused you to whine and Mingi’s hips to jerk faster into you. “Aww, he wants to cum baby. Want him to cum?”

Both you and Mingi were nodding as soon as the words left Yunho’s mouth. You were so close, just a gentle brush of either of their fingers would probably send you over the edge again. 

“Then cum, both of you,” Yunho nipped at your earlobe at the same time he tugged on your nipple, causing you to twitch and squirm in his grip. 

“I- I need… Yunho I need-” you couldn’t seem to get the words out between Mingi’s thrusts and Yunho’s tightening hand on your throat.

“Hmm? Need what baby?” Your eyes were on Mingi as Yunho’s teasing voice filled your head. At least Mingi seemed to understand because he brought one of his hands that was gripping your hips down to rub at your clit. Yunho slapped his hand away before he got a chance, though. “Nuh-uh. If the slut wants to be touched, she has to ask nicely.”

“Touch me please! I need it!” You forced yourself to speak, although it was difficult as Mingi’s groans grew in volume as he neared his own high.

“Mmm fine,” Yunho’s tone was bored but he brought his fingers to rub your clit. It took two circles before you were clenching down on Mingi and crying out again. This time felt so much more intense than the one earlier and it had your body locking as your hand came down to clench on Yunho’s thigh.

The feeling of you spasming around him caused Mingi to cum into the condom. He threw his head back with a long groan. The waves of pleasure coursing through him caused his body to jerk while he buried himself deep in you.

He collapsed down on top of you and Yunho as the two of you came back down. Yunho was laughing at the way both of you went boneless in the dogpile. He had released your neck at some point and that very same hand was now stroking Mingi’s sweaty back as he let the man rest for a moment.

“Alright get off me, both of you,” Yunho let Mingi pull out of you slowly before he shoved him off of you and onto the bed. He took this opportunity to lay you in the warm spot he previously occupied. Sitting between your now open legs, Yunho began to strip, revealing his incredibly toned torso and muscular thighs. “Still ok, baby?”

You nodded emphatically. “Very ok.”

Mingi chuckled beside you, reminding you that you and Yunho were not alone. You reached for Mingi’s hand as Yunho pushed your legs even farther apart. It was impossible to contain your wince at the strain in your muscles. He noticed your response easily, very intune with your body and even its miniscule movements and reactions. You don’t think you’ve spent this much time in a single day with your legs open, ever, even though Yunho had the stamina of a goddamn rabbit most days.

“Here,” Yunho gently turned you on your stomach, helping you to your hands and  knees. When he had you where he wanted, he leaned over you so his chest laid against your back and his mouth was at your ear. A shudder rolled through you when his low voice reverberated through you. “Why don’t you show Mingi what you can do with your mouth, baby?”

Mingi, who had dropped your hand when Yunho was positioning you, was sitting up on his knees, not quite in front of you. You looked up at him, doing your best to flutter your eyelashes in a way you hoped was seductive.

“Come here.”

He didn’t hesitate to comply, moving in front of you so his hips were level with your face, his half hard dick swinging before you. Yunho chuckled at his eagerness, removing himself from your back. His hands met your hips as you leaned your head forward to kitten lick at Mingi. He tasted like the condom he had been wearing, although you weren’t quite sure at what point he had removed it after he removed himself from you, and you nearly wrinkled your nose at the taste, but Yunho was pressing inside of you before you had the chance. 

Your mouth dropped open at the familiar and oh so sweet feeling of your boyfriend entering you fully. Mingi took his chance, softly pushing his quickly hardening dick into your mouth so you were full on both ends.

Both men groaned at the feeling, and you couldn’t help but feel proud at their reaction to you. Yunho always raved about how good you felt around him, but hearing it never failed to flood your chest with pride at the effect you still had on him. Although you weren’t particularly interested in Mingi outside of this one off sexual experience, you still felt that same pride at how he reacted to your body.

That pride encouraged you to bob your head as you suckled softly on him and swiped your tongue around him as Yunho started retracting his hips. Your breath hitched as he pushed back into you, causing you to moan around Mingi in your mouth and the man in front of you rewarded you with a soft moan and a hand in your hair. 

With a few more soft thrusts, Yunho deemed you ready enough for him to really go to town. His hands on your hips tightened in preparation, and he gave you his first punishing thrust. It propelled you forward, father onto Mingi’s dick than you had been expecting. You would have choked, if not for all the experience you had sucking Yunho’s equally as large dick. Even so, it was more than you had been expecting to take so soon and it caused your eyes to water, but you regained your composure enough to continue your sucking. Thankfully, Mingi’s dick muffled what you knew would be your embarrassingly loud and needy moans.

Yunho’s thrusts grew faster and harder, effectively eliminating the need for you to move on your own as he speared you on his own dick and the one in your mouth. Every nerve in your body was on fire, in the best way possible. It felt so insanely good to be this full that you didn’t even realize more tears had leaked from your eyes.

“Aww,” Mingi crooned, tightening his hand in your hair and bringing his other one to cradle your jaw. “Your slut’s crying, Yun.”

Yunho chuckled, removing one of his hands to slap your ass as his hips beat into yours and you cried out as best you could. His hand came down one more time before stilling. You felt more than heard him spit on you, but you didn’t have a chance to ponder it before his thumb was rubbing as your unoccupied hole, pushing into the tight ring. That seemed to heighten every sensation and you tightened around him, nearly falling flat if it weren’t for the hands holding you up. 

“Does it feel that good, baby?” His tone was almost condescending. You frantically tried to nod, but it was hard to fight Mingi’s hands on your head. Both men laughed at your eagerness, and Yunho picked up his pace.

You could feel yourself rising higher and higher, as if your consciousness wasn’t in your body anymore. It was easy to picture the scene. You, on your hands and knees, covered in sweat and bruises from all the fucking you had so eagerly endured today, surrounded by the two men who seemed to dwarf you, despite the fact you only stood a few inches shorter. Mingi, his hips bucking ever so slightly into your mouth, panting, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat. Yunho, letting out little groans as his hips pistoned into yours, one hand on your hips, the other pushing his thumb farther into your ass, panting and in a similar state to Mingi.

The images your mind conjured pushed you closer and closer to the edge. Judging from how Yunho’s thrusts had started to pick up an almost stuttering rhythm and the whines leaking from Mingi that you could hear even over the sound of skin slapping together, you gathered both men weren’t far behind.

Taking matters into your own hands, you tightened your muscles around Yunho and sucked as hard as you could around Mingi.

That seemed to do it for all three of you. Tightening around Yunho intensified the sensation for both of you, and your increased sucking did Mingi in. This orgasm was the strongest one you’d had all day and your arms gave out as your whole body spasmed and twitched. It rolled over you in waves, whiting out your vision. If you had thought you were floating earlier, it was nothing compared to this. You were floating, lost in the way it seemed like your body had been set on fire. You would have fallen flat if it weren’t for the hands of the two men holding you up.

 Simultaneously, they both unloaded themselves in you. 

Mingi hunched over slightly, pushing himself as deep as he could into your mouth as he let out a long, drawn out groan while his eyes fluttered and rolled back. His hips twitched forwards and you did your best to swallow all the cum that poured into your mouth, but some spilled out the sides. Yunho didn’t fare much better. He pushed himself as deep inside of you as he could, throwing his head back as the feeling of his orgasm washed over him. This load was smaller than the ones he’d given you earlier that day, but you could still feel it flooding inside you.

When all your highs had ended, they gingerly pulled out. You couldn’t help but whine at the overstimulation, but both men moved as tenderly as they could. When Yunho had removed his dick and his thumb and Mingi had left your mouth, you fell flat, panting with your eyes closed. Mingi moved next to you to rub a hand over your back as Yunho hurried to grab a wet towel from the bathroom.

“You ok?” Mingi spoke quietly. You nodded, too exhausted to say anything. “Good, good.”

He lapsed into silence after that, continuing to run his hand on your back as you tried to stop the twitching left over from the insane orgasm you had just had. Yunho returned quickly, although your eyes were still shut so you weren’t aware until the first touch of the towel between your legs.

Talking felt like a momentous effort, so you merely whimpered in protest as Yunho continued to clean you up. 

“I know, I know, baby,” his voice was soft. “But you’re going to kill me tomorrow if I don’t do this now.”

You nodded and let him continue. It wasn’t long before he was done and you were drifting. You found yourself half asleep, fading fast and unaware of the conversation the two men were having as they tucked you under your covers.

“Stay,” that was Yunho.

“Are you sure?” Mingi sounded anxious. “She’s your girlfriend, what if she wakes up and is disgusted I’m in her bed?”

“She won’t be. And besides, we both know you can’t sleep alone after something like this,” Yunho’s voice was softer, gentler but firm. “And nothing’s going to change. I love you man, but this is my girlfriend, I’m not inviting you into our relationship. The only time I’ll ever share her with you is if we do this again.”

Mingi breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, good, ok good. I don’t want in. She’s only got eyes for you anyways, wouldn’t be fair to me.”

Both men laughed as they tucked themselves into bed around you, one on either side. Yunho drew you into his chest as Mingi pressed himself to your back, cocooning you in warmth and safety.

#jeong yunho #song mingi #jeong yunho smut #song mingi smut #jeong yunho fanfic #song mingi fanfic #jeong yunho x reader #song mingi x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez hard hours

[pyropsychiccollector]

Founders: Profile Data

(๑╹ω╹๑ ) Time to try something a wee bit different... I've done bios on characters, of course. This information is purely for sport and fun. And all of the measurement info is canonical, so I will receive no backlash from this. *stares at certain people* (๑╹ω╹๑ )(๑╹ω╹๑ )(๑╹ω╹๑ ) The rest, of course, I left to imagination~ \(๑╹ω╹๑ )/

And because this is a test to see how it's received... I'll do the data on my "Founders", the girls I most strongly ship with Makoto. They started Danganronpa ships for me... And in Maiko's case, she earned her way up there. (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Chisa did as well, but... She has seniority on Maiko-chan. (๑╹ω╹๑ )

#6: Maiko Kagura, Ultimate Dancer

Height: 160 cm (5'2")

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 75 cm (30")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: November 29

Likes: Big ramen servings (canon), Pop music, Danceable music, Comfy clothes, Her foster "family" in the red light district, Positive Attitudes, Good deals on home appliances and utilities, Kindhearted senpai that take the time to hang out and listen to her

Dislikes: Natto (canon), Abandonment, Scammers, Perverts, Bullies

#5: Chisa Yukizome, Ultimate Housekeeper

Height: 161 cm

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 89 cm

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: May 3

Likes: Cleaning, Laundry, Cooking (canon), Ultimate Students (eventually all students), Passion and Confidence, Time with loved ones, Frilly aprons and dresses, Sweetheart students that help keep everyone in line and get flustered when one-on-one

Dislikes: Cockroaches (canon), Sleaziness, Laziness, Lack of motivation/drive, Corruption, Bullies, Dirt and grime

#4: Junko Enoshima, Ultimate Fashionista

Height: 169 cm (5'7")

Weight: 45 kg (99 lbs)

Chest: 90 cm

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: December 24

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Trendy Clothes, Malleable people, Being on top, Her sisters, Opulence, Compassionate lucky boys that never gave up on her despite how bad off she was originally

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Old-fashioned clothes and stuff not trending, Smartasses, Rivals that get in her way, The slums, Plans going awry, Reminders of her past

#3: Mukuro Ikusaba, Ultimate Soldier

Height: 169 cm (5'7")

Weight: 44 kg (97 lbs)

Chest: 80 cm (31")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: December 24

Likes: Her sisters, Army knives (canon), Straightforward procedures and rules, Quiet, Night racing (motorcycles), Training, Reconnaissance (keeping tabs on loved ones), Compassionate and tender lucky civilian boys that wasn't put off by her talent and continued trying to be her friend...who also gets along with her sisters

Dislikes: Makeup (canon), Shallow and aggravating people, Threats to her sisters, Threats to Naegi-kun, People that look down on soldiers (namely their ability to return to society), Flashy clothes/items, Unnecessary procedures and rules that make things harder rather than actually make a difference

#2: Celestia Ludenberg, Ultimate Gambler

Height: 164 cm (5'5")

Weight: 46 kg (101 lbs)

Chest: 80 cm (31")

Blood Type: AB

Date of Birth: November 23

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Marie Antoinette, Gothic lolita fashion, Gothic architecture, Extravagance and opulence, Winning, People that do as she says, European castles, Tenderhearted lucky boys that try and see the real her beyond all the lies and backstories...who don't mock her dreams, but urge her to become a better person

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Loud and annoying things and people, Smartass peasants, People that waste her time, Losing, Certain ruffians BORN into money and opulence that know nothing of winning your way there personally...ESPECIALLY the duplicitous "nice princess" stereotypes

#1: Sayaka Maizono, Ultimate Idol

Height: 165 cm (5'5")

Weight: 49 kg (108 lbs)

Chest: 83 cm (33")

Blood Type: A

Date of Birth: July 7

Likes: None (canon) - Expanded: Pop music, Her band, Her fans, Singing and Dancing, Genuineness, Compassion and Kindness, Friends that see past her public image, The idea of teaching music and dancing to future students, Comfy and Cozy families (blood doesn't matter; just the idea people are there for each other...), One-of-a-kind selfless lucky boys that help others without asking anything in return...who she's wanted to know for a few years now, finally got the chance to, and easily fell in love with him without regrets

Dislikes: None (canon) - Expanded: Threats to her friends' livelihoods, Managers with unrealistic expectations, Duplicity and backstabbing, People who are just FAKE and inflict harm and enjoy it, Loneliness, Despair, Bullies, People imbued with "talent" and coast by without effort or purpose

(๑╹ω╹๑ ) *sips tea* I regret nothing~

#Danganronpa #Makoto harem #Maiko Kagura #Chisa Yukizome #Junko Enoshima #Mukuro Ikusaba #Celestia Ludenberg #Sayaka Maizono