#. reqs open

[versocanibal]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀C$ ⠀ ̸ ⠀💧 苦乐参半 ⠀▬꯭𝟑꯭o. ᚍ

[beompercar]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀H⠀.⠀S⠀.⠀K⠀.⠀T⠀⠀𓂅⠀ ໋⠀⋅⠀♡ ❤︎

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀🍏⠀🌸⠀📎

[midnightfict]

A Star in the Making.

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — Co-stars were caught in a whirlwind of off-screen chemistry.

A/N — this is a request that i rewrote the draft multiple times. the story request itself is sooo good but i feel this didn't live up to my expectations. hopefully, it's an enjoyable read though.

anon's request post

— 𓆩𓆪 —

Lee Byung-hun sat at the long, polished table across from Kim Tae-ri and the production team, a script resting unopened in front of him. The meeting room buzzed with quiet anticipation as the director leaned forward, clearing his throat.

“So,” the director began, looking between Byung-hun and Tae-ri, “we’re finalizing casting for Our Fading Days. Ji-ho and Min-ji are set, but we’re still struggling with Ha-yoon.”

Kim Tae-ri, who got cast as Min-ji tilted her head. “Isn’t the screen test next week? I thought you had a shortlist already.”

The director sighed. “We do, but none of them quite fit. Ha-yoon is vital to the story. We need someone who embodies her hopeful, cheerful energy, but also has depth. Someone who can hold her own against Ji-ho’s quieter nature and make the audience feel that emotional connection.”

Byung-hun listened quietly, his fingers lightly drumming the table. “What’s the issue with the shortlist?” he asked.

“Either they have great chemistry with you but lack the character,” the director explained, “or have the character but can’t create the platonic bond Ji-ho and Ha-yoon need. We’re considering holding another round of auditions, but…”

The producer chimed in. “We’re running out of time. If either of you has recommendations, please send them our way.”

Kim Tae-ri raised a brow at Byung-hun. “Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

That evening, Byung-hun walked home under the dim city lights. The meeting lingered in his mind. Casting Ha-yoon was proving difficult, and he wasn’t sure they’d find someone who could balance the character’s charm and vulnerability.

As he passed a local theater, he noticed the soft glow of lights through the windows. Something pulled at him—curiosity, maybe. Without thinking, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The auditorium was nearly empty, save for a handful of people rehearsing on stage. Byung-hun’s gaze locked on a young woman, her. She stood at the center, pouring raw emotion into a heartfelt scene. Her voice carried across the room, weaving between desperation and hope. The intensity in her eyes made the dialogue feel alive like she wasn’t just acting but being.

He didn’t know the play or her name, but he felt a pang of admiration. The way she transitioned from lighthearted to deeply emotional reminded him of Ha-yoon’s complexity.

When the scene ended, her laughter rang out as she joked with the cast. The shift was so effortless that it startled him. This wasn’t just an actress—this was Ha-yoon.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a stage crew member approached him. “Sorry, sir, rehearsals aren’t open to the public.”

Byung-hun nodded apologetically. “My mistake.”

As he walked out, he pulled out his phone and called the director. “I think I found the perfect Ha-yoon. Contact the Arko Arts Theater. You’ll know her when you see her.”

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Months passed, and filming for Our Fading Days was in full swing. You, cast as Ha-yoon, had been a bundle of nerves during your first few days on set. Transitioning from theater to television was daunting, but Byung-hun made it easier.

From the start, he was supportive, sharing tips, running lines, and reassuring you when you doubted yourself. “You’re doing great,” he said one evening after a long day of filming. “Better than great. Ha-yoon feels real because of you.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, still unsure. “It just feels… unnatural sometimes. Like I’m out of place.”

He smiled softly. “If that’s unnatural, I can’t imagine what you’re like when you’re in your element.”

The two of you quickly became inseparable. Lunch breaks were spent sharing snacks, late-night text exchanges were filled with inside jokes, and off-set outings turned into a regular thing. Kim Tae-ri often teased the both of you, trying to nudge the relationship further, but you and Byung-hun were oblivious to her hints.

As filming wrapped up, you found yourself bittersweet about the end. “I’m going to miss all of this,” you admitted one day.

He glanced at you. “You mean the show or…”

“Everything,” you replied vaguely.

The promotional interviews were in full swing, and the three of you, Lee Byung-hun, Kim Tae-ri, and you, sat on a couch, microphones in hand, under the bright studio lights.

The interviewer smiled as they turned to the group. “The story of Our Fading Days is so compelling—a childhood friendship between Ji-ho and Ha-yoon drifting apart as Ji-ho falls in love with Min-ji. It’s relatable and bittersweet. But,” they continued, their tone shifting to something more playful, “fans have picked up on something surprising. Despite Ji-ho and Ha-yoon not being a romantic pair, viewers are shipping you two. What do you think about that?”

You blinked, caught off guard for a moment, and then laughed lightly. “Oh, well, I guess it’s pretty common to root for the childhood best friend to end up with the main guy, even though Ji-ho and Ha-yoon see each other as strictly platonic. But yeah, I understand them, Ha-yoon's reaction towards their deteriorating friendship might seem more than platonic to the viewers.”

Before you could say more, Kim Tae-ri let out an amused laugh, shaking her head. “I think you misunderstood. The question wasn’t about Ji-ho and Ha-yoon. They’re asking about you and Byung-hun.”

Your eyes widened as the realization hit, and heat crept up your neck. “Oh.” You let out a nervous laugh, glancing at Byung-hun for support.

Byung-hun grinned, clearly amused by your reaction. “Really?” he said, leaning into the playful tone, “Shipping us? Wow, that’s a first—I didn’t think I had the qualifications to keep up with her. She’s the real star here!”

You laughed along with him, brushing it off. “He's too nice but yeah, Let's keep the shipping between our fictional lives.”

Kim Tae-ri smiled knowingly, her tone light but deliberate. “I don't know, you guys...” She paused, then added slyly, “Min-ji might just be the third wheel around here.”

The interviewer raised their eyebrows, the audience chuckled, and you felt your face grow warmer as you exchanged a quick, sheepish glance with Byung-hun. He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head in mock defeat, and the moment moved on—though the subtle tension lingered in the air.

⋆｡𖦹° ⏾ ˚｡⋆

Even after promotions ended, Byung-hun remained a constant in your life. He came to your theater performances, always waiting backstage with flowers in hand.

“You’re spoiling me,” you joked one night after a show, hugging him tightly.

“You deserve it,” he replied.

That evening, as you both strolled under the city lights, he suddenly stopped.

“You know,” he said, his tone a little nervous.

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him.

“I was thinking...” He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “Ji-ho and Ha-yoon might make a great couple. Their relationship is certainly more than some friendship, don't you think? ”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, you were speechless. Then you laughed, the sound warm and genuine.

“Is Ji-ho trying to confess, here?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Well… Ha-yoon definitely can sense the adoration Ji-ho has for her. I can say that she feels the same way.”

He chuckled, his hand brushing yours. “I'm glad she feels the same. She's a star in the making and he will continue walking her way.”

As the two of you walked on, hand in hand, the city seemed brighter than ever.

[novastar-creations]

Art requests akko from Little Witch Academia smiling ^^

Atsuko Kagari! This was really fun to draw, nice and quick :>

Just a reminder: my ask box is open for art requests!

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Something involving Kirk’s tattoo. Like maybe when he first gets it and doesn’t tell reader about it she finds out becomes obsessed with it something smut involved please😈

Hope you like it!❤

Warnings: smut, strong language, mature themes.

_____________________________

Flames of desire

I stood just outside Kirk’s quarters, exhilaration coursing through me after my earlier run. My heart was still racing from the exercise, but nothing compared to the rush of excitement at the thought of seeing him. As I pushed the door open, the familiar scent of his cologne wafted through the air, mixed with something sweet—probably dessert he had saved.

“Did you save any of that synthale for me?” I called out, stepping into the warm glow of his room. I stopped short at the sight before me.

Kirk was halfway through undressing, his shirt slipping off his broad shoulders. My heart raced—not just from my run, but from how effortlessly handsome he looked. However, what captivated me most was the tattoo on his right side. Flames danced across his waist, their vibrant colors flickering in a way that made them seem alive.

“Wow, Kirk,” I said, stepping closer, “you’ve been holding out on me.” My tone was playful, but I couldn’t hide my admiration.

He turned fully to face me, a teasing spark igniting in his eyes. “Thought you’d be impressed. But I bet it’s not just the tattoo that gets you hot under the collar.”

Heat flooded my cheeks at his boldness. “Can I… can I look at it up closer?” I asked, curiosity bubbling within me.

Kirk raised an eyebrow, mischief shining in his gaze. “Only if you can handle the heat,” he replied with a grin, taking a step toward me.

As I reached out, my fingers brushed against the tattoo, tracing the intricate flames. The warmth radiated from his skin, sending shivers down my spine, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how vividly the flames mimicked the wild inferno that burned between us.

“This is incredible,” I whispered, lost in the artistry of it all. The flames reminded me of our passion—intense, consuming, and dangerous.

“You seem quite taken with it,” he said, amusement in his tone as I studied the ink.

“You don’t get it. It’s mesmerizing!” I exclaimed. “It’s not just a tattoo; it feels like it represents something deeper—like the flames of inferno.”

Kirk took a step closer, our bodies nearly touching. The air between us felt charged, and I could sense the intensity building. “It represents passion—wild, untamed passion,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent a thrill racing through me.

“I think it leads to something explosive,” I replied boldly, feeling the heat radiating from both his tattoo and the man standing before me.

Without further ado, he closed the space between us, capturing my lips in a kiss that ignited a fire within me. The moment was electric, and my body melted against his as I surrendered to the urgency of the kiss.

“What do you want?” he murmured against my lips, the warmth of his breath mingling with my own.

“I want you,” I confessed, my heart racing with desire. “I want you—now.”

In one swift movement, he spun me around, pinning me against the wall with firm but gentle hands. The heat from his tattoo pressed against my skin, amplifying the need coursing through my veins. I could feel my body instinctively responding, hunger rising in my core.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with longing.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I replied, my heart pounding.

Kirk captured my mouth again, and we quickly fell into a passionate rhythm, our bodies moving together as one. Fingers tangled in his hair as we kissed, exploring the depths of our desires.

As we continued, my hand trailed down from his hair to his waist, brushing over the edges of the tattoo. I pressed my lips against the flames, savoring the warmth of his skin and the symbolism behind the ink. Each kiss lit a fire within me, making me feel more connected to him than I ever had before.

“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured against his skin, feeling completely alive in the moment.

Kirk let out a low growl as he pressed his body against mine, driving the point home that we were both caught in this whirlwind of heat. “You have no idea how much I want you,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

With every kiss I placed on the flames, my longing intensified. It felt as if I were kissing the embodiment of our passion—a wild inferno that threatened to engulf us both. The tattoo became a physical representation of everything we were sharing, and I found myself craving him even more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, pulling slightly away to gaze deeply into my eyes. “You’re driving me wild.”

I chuckled softly, but there was an undeniable heat building inside me. “Good,” I replied breathlessly, tugging him closer. “Let go.”

With that, Kirk captured my lips again, plunging us into a world where nothing else mattered. The outside world faded, leaving only the two of us as we melted together, moving in perfect harmony.

I surrendered to the fiery passion that crackled between us, feeling utterly consumed by the inferno of our desires. We continued to lose ourselves in each other, the tattoo pulsing with life as we found our rhythm.

In that fervent embrace, time ceased to exist. He lifted me slightly, my legs wrapping around his waist, as I whispered his name—a mixture of plea and affirmation. I clung to him, kissing the flames again, savoring the moment in its entirety—the wildness, the heat, the unbreakable connection we shared.

As we finally reached that exhilarating peak together, our breaths mingling in the afterglow, I couldn’t help but smile up at him. “You know, next time you decide to get another tattoo, at least give me a heads-up,” I teased, running my fingers along the ink. “I'd love to be prepared for the heat.”

Kirk chuckled, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “I promise I’ll give you a heads-up. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on my next masterpiece.”

With a playful wink, he pressed his lips to my forehead, the flames on his skin still glowing brightly.

[kimuraite]

🎀　ྀི ̩͙ ⑅ say okay, i'm okay, 피어나도록 ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა 　

🍫◞ i'll say I love you twice . . . ׂ   ♡ ∿

[xkaru-karux]

May you draw the RAT holding a rat plush ornament?

omg fnaf/candy’s art im 2025 (very late)

[sweetfoxmojis]

Some general emote updates from the server :3

[tuesdaysmotell]

Faded dividers

Small divider dump. I don't know what else to call em besides fading dividers | my personal dividers are not apart of this dump.

◇ F2u no credit needed

◇

[sterifels-blog]

warnings ⚠️

•nsfw! 🔞 please do not interact if you are not 18+ ❤️ you are not my responsibility.

creepypasta

REQUESTED: how they'd react if you ask them what their favorite (body) part of you is.

bloody painter

•he would say your hands. he's intrigued by your fingers, as odd as it may seem. not so much the looks of them; but instead the power they wield. "you have such delicate hands for someone so strong... makes me wonder what they could do if they weren't holding a brush." the implication is there— and, it's more of an invitation then a question. he knows what you're capable of- but he thinks he's being smooth about the fact he wants your hand wrapped around his cock.

•soft, but possessive touches: he'll hold your hand in his and trace the lines of your palm with his thumb, enjoying the way your skin feels against his rougher hand. he's not always filthy- infact, he washes his hands more that you're around. he knows you can't stand the feeling of blood smearing all over yours off of his.

•places gentle kisses on your knuckles. he'll press a kiss to your knuckles after you've done something for him, silently showing gratitude in his own way. alternatively; as he's bumping his hips to snap his pelvis tight against your own— more-so panting onto your fingers as he holds them to his parted lips. he's grunting at how good you feel, his brows tight-- and knitted together while placing soft kisses to your fingertips. bro loves you.

•admiring the art of your hands: if you paint (hopefully, with normal supplies), he'll watch you carefully, entranced by the way your fingers move across the canvas. "i like how you create... i like how you touch things."

•okay brother. calm down.

•handcuff scenario: if he's feeling possessive, he might tie your hands just to keep you close, though it's always with a Iight touch, as if savoring the moment. it's that, or he's got you in his lap- your back pressed to his chest as one of his hands keeps your wrists pulled together, and the other is brushing hair out of the way so he can kiss your neck.

•earning affection: "i know these hands could do so much more, if i let you." a quiet invitation to explore.

clockwork

•she'd say your eyes. clockwork has a dark fascination with them, and she isnt shy about making that clear: "your eyes... they've seen more than i can imagine, and yet they still hold something innocent about them." she has no issue with tainting that innocence- although she chooses to cherish it for herself, opting to keep your mind safe and away from others. your eyes only on her.

•intense gaze: she'll lock her eyes on yours, not breaking contact, as if studying you. it's like she's searching for something deep within, and it makes you feel exposed, yet strangely desired. she'll be kissing from your sternum down to your pelvis, her nails dragging along your bare sides as she relishes in the feeling of your fluttering skin against her lips.

•her lip gloss paints your stomach in a shimmery raspberry hue as she kisses your skin, her thumbs digging into your hips as they massage in slow circles.

•she's huge on teasing: "i could lose myself in them, but you'd never let me. you'd just pull away, wouldn't you?" she won't give you much of an option to pull away. she'll have you on your knees in front of her, her hand cupped under your chin as she admires the tremble of excitement that rushes down your spine.

•gentle, longing touches. she gently cups your face, forcing you to keep eye contact "i could make you see things- things you don't want to. but... you trust me, don't you?"

•when you inevitably agree with her— saying that you do trust her, her hands are parting your thighs, shamelessly sighing as her tongue traces lazy drags against your clit and labia. (she's definitely the type to write her name with her tongue, over and over until you're whining for her to do something other than tease. you're not talking at all after that)

•behind-the-scenes power: "if you look away, i'Il only make it worse. keep looking... you're mine, aren't you?"

eyeless jack

•thoughtful to say your throat. jack has an intense interest with your neck/throat. he can't stop staring at your throat, where he knows your pulse beats, so close to the surface- so easy to cut off if he so much as squeezed you hard enough. if he so much as twisted your head quick enough to cause dissection. not that he ever would- no, no. such horrific things are only reserved for his victims- but his medical knowledge often gets the better of him when intimate with your body.

•gentle but dangerous touch. he'll graze his fingers lightly along the curve of your throat, his thumb brushing the side of your neck as though testing your response. he'll hum— his nail digging softly into the prominent vein on the side of your neck, leaning down to nuzzle his nose against it as though smelling the metallic flow from the outer-shell of your skin. he doesn’t say anything, but the way his hand squeezes is word enough. jack loves you, he's made it clear over and over again- but often, he still finds it necessary to remind you that you both are different. un-alike.

•dangerous affection: "i know the veins here so well... it's almost like could just.." he might trail his fingers over your throat, his mind going to darker places as he tightens the grip he has on you to just beneath your chin, tilting your head back with a little groan into your ear. he brushes your baby hairs away from the base of your neck, leaning in to place a kiss against the base of your skull, panting with hearty breaths whilst his hips rut slow, sloppy grinds against the cheeks of your ass.

•alternatively, he’s got your legs kicked apart, his own feet placed between yours as to ensure that you don't try and squeeze them shut. pinned to him, your back against his chest— jack doesn't let you loose as his fingers swirled wide circles around your clit. his teeth graze at your ear, murmuring quietly about how easy you were for him. predictable. and you were.

•teasing whispers: he'll lean close to your ear and murmur, "your pulse is fast... what's got you worked up? it's just me.."

•holds your throat while he's fucking into you from behind.

hoodie

•your ass. zero shame, zero hesitation: hoodie doesn't even try to hide it, "you've got the best ass i've ever seen. why wouldn't i look? you should be flattered."

•he's hands-on at all times. whenever you walk past him, his hand is right there. sometimes, he gives it a playful squeeze, other times a sharp smack that makes you jump. "what? you're the one who walked by me like that."

•you, in fact, didn't even walk by. he's the one who walked by you. too many times, will you give him silence in return for his tomassery– and each time, he does the same thing. he'll come up behind you, apologetically (🤥) sliding his hands down your waist to cup your ass as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. "you know i'm just teasing.."

•favorite pose? you straddling his lap. he loves when you sit on him, especially facing away so he can rest his hands on your hips— or further down. "you're making it really hard to focus, you know. not that i'm complaining.."

•and he isn't complaining, especially when he’s able to bend you over the counter later that night, groaning and grunting as he 'thanks' you for the meal you'd cooked for him after a long mission assigned by the operator. he's tired, sure; but he always has some extra stamina stored away for times like this. seeing your ass bounce on his hips as his dick bullies against your g-spot is worth every bit of energy he has left.

•constant touching: if you're lying on your stomach, he's lying next to you, his hand lazily draped over your lower back and sliding lower.

•pulling you closer: if you're standing in front of him, he'll wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back against him, hands wandering. "c'mere. you're too far away. yeah, that's better."

jason the toymaker

•your hands

•craftsman’s admiration: “your hands... so delicate, yet so full of life. they could create so much beauty... if i allowed you.” his voice carries both fascination and a subtle possessiveness, enjoying how wrapped around his fingers you were. the innuendo is there, integrated in his words. why would you need to touch yourself when he was there to do all you wished for you?

•very gentle with his touches. he loves to take your hands in his, running his fingers over the smooth skin, almost as if memorizing every line and curve. the type of guy to intertwine your fingers with his own as he keeps your wrists pinned to the bed— huffing against your neck with steady, deep thrusts. loves kissing behind your ear, grumbling about how good you take him- make him feel.

•kisses to your palms. jason has a habit of turning your hand over and pressing slow, deliberate kisses to your palm. “such beautiful hands… wasted on anything but me.” definitely prompts you into giving him a hand job, obsessive over the way your fingers feel curled around him. he thoroughly can't get enough of you, and arm wrapped lazily around your waist as he sits you in his lap for a slow makeout.

•mild.. obsession: he’ll watch you when you’re doing anything with your hands—writing, sketching, even cooking. “it’s mesmerizing, really. i could watch you all day.”

•into playful (but freaky ass) control. jason likes to guide your hands when you’re working on something, his larger hands enveloping yours. “here, let me show you how to do it properly. not that you’re bad at it… i'm just better.” this applies to the bedroom, where he's guiding your hand; curling your fingers only when he allows you to.

•possessive comments: “these hands belong to me, no? no one else gets to feel them, hold them, or be touched by them.”

jeff the killer

•dangerous attraction to your thighs: "your thighs... they look so soft. i bet they'd feel even better wrapped around me." and they do— whether they are clung at the sides of his head, or straddling his hips as he helps you ride him after a particularly high stress day. he loves them more than anything else in the world.

•gentle possessiveness.. he'll casually run his hands over your thighs, his fingers lingering just a little too long as if marking territory. does it especially when you are all sitting in a group. if given the opportunity, he'll have you tucked between him and the arm of the couch, your legs slung over his own so his hand can rub up and down yours.

•plenty of flirtatious teasing: "how tight do you think those legs could squeeze, huh? show me, and i'II make it worth your while."

•when you go about showing him- he makes it a point to keep you at his disposal until you're too satisfied to complain about anything. his tongue is useful for talking— but it is just as skillful when it's dipped between your thighs, running between your folds until you're squeezing his head so tight, he was sure his skull would crack.

•loves giving you kisses to the inner thigh. on a whim, he might press a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, just to feel the warmth of your skin. after a particularly strenuous night of.. events, it's a subtle gesture of appreciation

•"i can't help it. your thighs are just... perfect. i think i could spend all day here, don't you?"

•mock care: if he's feeling particularly mischievous, he'll gently squeeze them and say, "relax. i'Il be gentle. for now."

jane the killer

•playfully seductive: "these hips of yours.. i could write a book about how perfect they are." she smirks as her hands glide along them, leaving goosebumps in her wake. by far, they are the most favorable thing on your body in her eyes- apart from the obvious sentiment of your breasts. she thinks the proportions of them match you perfectly.

•possessive hold. jane has a habit of gripping your hips firmly, puling you closer until there's no space between you- mainly around the others of the household. there is no denying that you're hers- but it is still in her nature to be competitive over that fact, especially with her other-sex counterpart being present. "you feel so good against me. don't think i'Il let go anytime soon."

•slow in admiration. her fingers trace the curve of your hips, almost reverently. "every inch of you is stunning, but this.. this drives me insane." you're hovered over her- sweat dripping down your spine and dampening the roots of your hair as her hands guide you in a rocking motion. they are clasped tightly to your hips, nails, digging into your flesh as she encourages you to tuck in your core. she doesn't mind doing the messy work of bouncing you on her strap, so long as numbs you into that blissful state.

•dually stimulates your clit just to see them buck.

•sultry whispers while standing behind you. she'll lean in, lips brushing against your ear as her sleek nails tickled your hips with repetitive strokes. "these hips were made for my hands, don’t you think? hm?"

•when things heat up, her focus always finds its way to your hips, her kisses trailing along the curves as her grip tightens. "you have no idea what you do to me." jane's eyes linger on your hips like they're the most captivating thing in the world.

kagekao

•your mouth and messy kisses. kagekao loves kissing you- rough, messy, and without warning. he thrives on the way he can leave you breathless and completely flustered. it comes of good use when you two are arguing. you'd been rambling about something- not that he was listening; but he captured the gist of you bitching about how he was leaving the house a mess. guilty— of course he was; but he wasn't going to acknowledge it. "can't talk now, can you?"

•shutting you up: secondary to a kiss, if you're rambling or talking back, he'll cut you off with a hand against your mouth; putting you into momentary silence. it is only when his hand moves to tug at the buckle of his belt do you understand where he is truly going with it. your mouth, around him- is as good as it is while talking. as skillful as your insults- just more quiet apart from the occasional gag to fuel his ego.

•playfully dominant. he's a master of teasing you into silence, brushing his thumb over your lips and smirking. "these lips of yours are dangerous... but i like the way they feel under mine." he's cheesy because he knows it gets you going. you'll cuss him out, commencing a back-and-forth between the two of you. and as much as he enjoys shutting you up— it is, unfortunately, your 'arguments' that get him swollen and tight in his slacks.

•messy control: if you're mid-argument, he'll pin you against a wall and kiss you hard enough to stop the words from coming. "i don't care what you were going to say." he's a bit of an asshole— and when it comes to an actual confliction, you're often pushing him away as to voice your opinion.

•obsession with your voice: he's addicted to the way your lips move when you talk (+ the sound of it), and he often stares shamelessly. "keep talking- let me watch those pretty lips of yours."

•if it's been a while since he's last seen you; and you have the chance to speak to him over the phone, he's 100% not opposed to rubbing one out with you on the line. he'll go silent, listening to you ramble on about something that seems insignificant compared to the raging throb of his erection. mindlessly hums in agreement to something he shouldn't have— and gets startled when you begin scolding him over the phone.

laughing jack

•jack has a shameless fixation on your legs, especially if you're blessed with some extra height. "your legs just go on forever, don't they? makes me want to see how far they can wrap around me." his words are said with a wicked grin, no shame in his tone. if you're smaller, no worries about it— he's still intrigued about how many positions he can wrangle you into, especially with your smaller size being an accommodation.

•loves, loves, loves having you up against the wall. it's not the most practical position- but he has the strength to pull it off. at no point in time will your feet be touching the ground. your legs are slung over his hips, and mercilessly, jack is giving you no time between breaths as he fucks in and out of you. he'd been worked up over a dress you'd worn out with jane; the gap of time from which you returned— to then being railed furiously almost nonexistent.

•the stupid cunt is constant teasing: he'll comment on how your legs look in any outfit especially if they're bare. "oh, you're just showing them off today, aren't you? that's just cruel." he especially loves seeing you in skirts or short dresses. a tight pair of pants will still do justice- outlining your figure, but seeing your skin is an entirely different experience for him.

•obsessive attention. runs his hands along your thighs and calves, almost like he's worshiping them, while making playful, almost mocking comments. "so soft.. are you sure you're strong enough to be here?" he knows you are, he has no sincere doubts that you've earned your place amongst the bunch; but it intrigues him how someone as hard working as yourself could have any aspect of a gentle physic leftover.

•payful biting: he'll nip at your legs from your calvee to your thighs, just to watch you squirm. "what? can't handle a little attention?"

•restless fascination: loves having his head in your lap, running his hands up and down your legs, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "how am i supposed to behave with these perfect legs right in front of me?"

•a good smack to the head will do it.

masky

•masky has an obvious fixation on your breasts. he won't even try to hide it. when you're in close quarters, his eyes are always drawn to your chest, and he'll casually glance at them before meeting your eyes, smirking. "could you be any less distracting?"

•shameless touching: he's the type to casually rest his hand on your chest when in private, grinning like it's the most natural thing in the world. if you're not paying attention, he'll give them a slight squeeze and say, "couldn't resist, sorry." which, is a lie. he's fully capable of resisting- but with you, he doesn't care much to.

•throughly enjoys having you ride him. if not only to see the way your face twists up in pleasure; then, to see the way your breasts bounce with each desperate thrust you chase after.

•loves seeing you in workout clothes— especially something like a workout bra that cups your breasts exceptionally. he'll come up behind you, hands wandering from your sides, and against your ribs to your breasts, his fingers fondling with the under-band of your bra appreciatively. places soft kisses on the back of your neck, humming in approval as he relishes in the sight of his palms engulfing your chest in the gym mirror.

•unapologetic flirting: "look real fucking good in that top. deserve some attention, don't you think?" he'll lean in close, just to make it clear that he's very aware of what he's doing- not that you had any doubts.

•although secondary pleasure wasn't normally accommodated on his schedule (nor does he have a high drive for it)– when you gave him a tit job for the first time; he swore he was knocking on heavens door. he could hardly keep himself from giving in too early- grunting and huffing as he dragged on his cigarette, prolonging his climax for as long as he could. cusses the entire time, groaning about how good you were.

•proximity: when he sleeps, he'll have his face tucked against your collarbone, his arms wrapped around you as his nose divets to your sternum.

slenderman

•control obsession: he’s drawn to your wrists, knowing just how delicate they are and how easily he can take control. he loves— and definitely gets off on the feeling of holding them tightly, guiding you however he sees fit. “your wrists are so fragile... better reason for you to listen"

•possessive in his grip. slenderman will sometimes just stand behind you, his long fingers brushing your wrists in a possessive, almost ritualistic manner, ensuring you feel his presence without him saying a word. he might even trace your veins as if marking them as his own— otherwise, silently reminding you of your merciless place beneath him.

•soft yet firm restraint. if you’re not paying attention, he’ll slip his tendril around your wrists with a cold, firm grip, keeping you in place. his touch is both controlling and almost comforting, as if trying to stake a claim over you that is inevitable. keeps you from moving too much, because it “makes it easier to work with you.”

•tying you up: there’s something about restraining you with ropes or simple threads that bores him. he's more into using his tentacles— wrapping them around your wrists slowly, ensuring it’s just tight enough to restrict movement. it’s a methodical and precise act. “you’ll stay still. you can handle this, can you not?"

•borderline sadistic during intercourse with you. overstimulation is a guarantee— his tentacles cuffing your wrists together as you squirm on the silk of his bedding. relentless. your breaths heave in desperation as his thumb circled your clit for what felt like hellish hours on end, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes that he brushes away with little care- only after they'd began to trail down your cheeks.

•fingers that linger: when he’s guiding you through a task, his fingers press against the soft skin of your wrist, sending shivers up your spine. it’s a constant reminder of his dominance and the way he can bend you to his will with little effort. sits you between his legs and has you ride his fingers, kissing the flat surface of your inner wrist.

•silent manipulation: whether you’re walking or sitting, his hands will often find their way to your wrists. the way his fingers curl around them feels almost hypnotic, leaving you unsure if it’s affection or an underlying threat.

ticci toby

•possessive grip: toby's hands will find their way to your chest, casually gripping them as if it's the most casual thing in the world. he's not gentle, but not rough either— just firm enough to feel like he's marking his territory. "i like having you close. ganz in der nähe" the words may seem innocent enough, but they are the furthest thing from it.

•soft, but intense. if you're in his arms, he'll keep you pressed against him, his hands roaming under your clothes to gently feel and play with you. his breaths hitch as he does, clearly enjoying the closeness more than anything. not being able to feel much- it's intriguing for him to see how you react to something he assumed would feel so insignificant.

•when he figured out you enjoy it- quite a bit, he'll find himself stroking your ribs more often, tracing over your collarbone.

•huffs of approval: when he feels the soft weight of your breasts in his hands, you'll hear him let out a pleased sigh, followed by a low chuckle. "you can't help making these noises when i touch you, hm?" he enjoys them, thoroughly. in fact, it's something he favors, doing whatever he can to pry the sweet sounds from your lips.

•missionary— classical. he's got your back pinned to the bed, one arm wrapped around your spine as he lay a series of open-mouthed kisses to your throat, trailing down to find one of the pebbled nipples of your breasts. the sound of your breathy moan is almost enough to make him brick up again, a low groan leaving his throat as his lips engulfed your tit with gluttony. he could worship you like this for hours- but not without his own share of enjoyment.

•light teasing: if you react to him touching you, even just a little, his grin widens. "i know you like it. you don't need to hide it." he'll lean in close, letting his breath ghost over your neck. there's nothing he enjoys more than getting a reaction out of you— and it severely agitates him when you silence yourself.

•insecure softness: as unhinged as he may seem, he can get a little soft about it, too. "i just... i need you close, okay? don't push me away." he's not one to beg, but there's something desperate in his voice when he holds you like this. loves having you against his chest, feeling your bare skin pressed against his own.

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Yandere Robot jjk ?

MAYHAPS... I have been thinking! Here we go y'all on the journey of yandere jjk robots, welcome in! ENJOY! :D. This includes: Geto (since I feel like he'd have yandere tendencies)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔪͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆💌°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You first met Suguru when you were at a cafe, taking orders and doing your job. He was sitting next to his owner, his eyes locked onto your person. Whoever owned him noticed this, had him apologize to you and left the cafe. And man, oh man did he hate his owner for taking him out of your sight.

You were working night shift a couple days later and were about to close up but then someone walked in wearing a black hoodie. It made you a little nervous but you smiled anyway as he approached the counter with his head slightly down.

"Hello, would you like something?"

The hooded stranger mumbled something, something your ears couldn't detect. You lean forward a little bit and look at the person expectantly.

"Sorry, could you repeat that again."

"You...I would like...you."

He tilts his head up so you could fully see his smiling face. You recognize him as the android that had apologized a couple of days ago. You looked over his face and gasped at the blood stains on his face. You step back on instinct but the unnoticeable hand on your wrist gripped suddenly and pulled you forward. His other hand had a cloth wrapped around it.

"Wait! Wait please!" Tears falling from your eyeline.

He doesn't listen to you nor does he care if you're crying. He's a machine after all, built out of scrap and blue liquid. He pushes the cloth to your face and presses it against your nose and mouth. He notices you weren't falling asleep and after a quick scan, you were holding your breath.

"You'll have to breathe eventually. Just make this easy for me."

He was right, however you were determined to keep fighting. Your hand beats against his chest as he looks at you unfazed and then a smile creeps onto his face.

"There we are. It's okay, I'll take care of you..."

Your eyes start to flutter close even though you are fighting to stay awake. It doesn't help that he gently closes your eyes for you.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔪͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆💌°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You wake up, handcuffed to intricate lines of pipes that lead out of the room. He came through the door with a plate of food and smile on his face. He'd changed clothes when you were drugged. You were desperately tugging against the pipe. He started to shush you, crouching down in front of you and placing the food tray to the side.

He gently rubs your hair before you pull away with tears in your eyes.

"You're a deviant! Where's your owner?"

He looks behind him at the door and then back at you.

"He's nothing to worry about! You should be happy you're with me now.

You couldn't help full out sobbing and begging him to let you go. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and then holds your face. Leaning in and laughing as you struggle against his tight grasp.

"There's no need to cry. I'll protect you...forever."

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°˚˖𓍢ִ໋🔪͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆💌°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Masterlist -> link

[versocanibal]

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀𝔖𝗮𝗻𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗿꯭𝘆 ‍ ض #⠀⠀🦇 ۱ ㅤ✟ㅤ吸血鬼日记.

⸸ .1990▘ 🦯 ܳ ܢ ᅠ ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ⠀⠀

[infectedrpd]

✞⠀┈⠀⠀Kiana Kaslana rentry graphics⠀⠀𓂃

₊﹚⠀req by⠀;⠀anon

₊﹚⠀f2u /w⠀;⠀credits + reblogs

₊﹚⠀recolours allowed - matching rentry here

⠀†⠀NOTE : I dont typically edit hoyoverse ; this request was an exception.⠀†

[shegatsby]

Hello

Could I request this idea where Hannibal goes to see the “Swan Lake” ballet and becomes obsessed with the reader who plays the swan queen

Let me know what you think of the idea

A/N: Hi!!! Thank you for this request. Thanks to you I've watched the Black Swan on youtube here is the link;

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9rJoB7y6Ncs&t=1561s

this is the old version ofc. Love you all xxx

Doctor Hannibal Lecter climbed out of his car and headed towards to the building. Tonight was a special night because he was going to see The Swan Lake, it was a big production and last time he watched it was in Italy, this time he was in Baltimore, Maryland due to his work. He was excited for tonight, he liked being among high society, he was a classist who believed that people who belong to the upper class should have the higher power in politics and other aspects of life. He had grown up in this environment and to his bones he felt a sophisticated gentleman. He was well educated, he had a profound knowledge of art and literature, he respected all his life and he rewarded himself with treats such as opera nights or ballet such as tonight.

He was wearing his tuxedo, black and white with a dark red handkerchief on his jacket’s pocket. He slowly approached to the building, the entrance had red carpet, the doors with golden handles were opened for him, he smiled kindly to the workers. ‘’May I see your ticket?’’ the young lady at the front desk, ‘’Here you go.’’ He liked having tickets, or tangible things in his life. He liked living analog, of course he didn’t denied how technology made his life easier than before. ‘’You may proceed.’’ The lady smiled but didn’t reach her eyes, most workers had the same expression due to the fact that they worked minimum wage or even under. It was the way of the world, some were more fortunate than others.

The seats were dark red, he took his place. He looked around to see the dress code, everyone wore clothes accordingly which pleased him. He took a certain joy in order and people following it. The upper class he belonged to had always followed rules like these but for the other… they were the ones who would like to be ‘’different’’ and rebel against the system.

He crossed his legs as the lights dimmed and curtain opened, as soon as the music hit his ears he smiled to himself. The seat next to his was empty, for a split second he envisioned a woman next to him, wearing a dress he had chosen for her…. No. he stopped himself and focused on the stage.

Soon the Queen Swan entered the stage and Hannibal felt his breath hitching at his throat, she was wearing the same white dress as other women but she had a dark red feather sticking from her tied hair, she was the queen and they needed to show it to the audience. Her movements on stage were so elegant, without realizing Hannibal leaned forward on his seat, he couldn’t believe his dark eyes, she had total control of her delicate body which he admired and found it very powerful.

When the first act ended he immediately got his phone, ordered a bouquet of black and white tulips that had a red rose in the middle. He wanted the bouquet to represent the Black Swan and also the Queen Swan. He also wrote a note and asked the delivery guy to bring it to the Queen’s dressing room.

The ballet lasted for an hour and half, later he was approached by the director of the ballet, Lisa-Macuja Elizalde, he bowed in front of her. ‘’For an hour and 30 minutes I have experienced pure bliss. Thank you so much for your contribution Madame.’’ He kissed her hand, the woman smiled with pride. ‘’You’re welcome Sir. I’ve heard that you had sent flowers to our queen. Would you like to meet her?’’ with this question he couldn’t hide the grin he had. ‘’I would love to.’’

‘’Follow me please.’’

He followed her to the back stage, it was crowded, together they approached a door which didn’t have her name on it, on the door it said ‘’The Queen Swan’’ was she show off? Only one way to find out. Madame knocked on the door and they heard a soft voice say ‘’Come in.’’

She was sitting in front of the mirror, her make-up off, she had a long satin black nightgown, her hair was still tied with the dark red feather sticking out. She got up with a swift move, turned to them. ‘’Doctor Lecter?’’ she asked because the note she had on flowers had his name. ‘’Yes,’’ he extended his hand which she gladly took. ‘’I would love to learn the name of this enchanting Swan Queen, If you don’t mind of course.’’ He kissed her hand, ‘’Y/N, Y/L/N.’’

‘’Y/N… such a unique name.’’ he praised, ‘’Thank you.’’

Hannibal was an observant man and during this interaction he carefully watched her, Madame Lisa-Macuja Elizalde left them alone she excused herself because she had to attend to some of the dancers.

Hannibal and Y/N sat on the velvet couch and talked about ballet, classical music and fine arts. He never had such an elite and uplifting conversation with anyone and at the back of his dark mind he could hear his wicked thoughts such as;

Where does she live?

Is her home safe?

Most importantly… does she have a partner?

How long has she been performing?

Hannibal, deep down, knew that it was over for them both because she belonged to him now. He was going to make sure she had no one to go to but him at the end.

Thank you for reading. :)

[novastar-creations]

Would u like to draw Toby lol he’s an SCP oc of mine and I just made a temp chara sheet for him lol

Also I love ur art it looks so elasticy

Thank you! Your art is also super cool I love the sketchy ink style you have with the lineart! Toby seems really cool @tentakilly

I actually did one before this, below the cut, but I wasn’t happy with how it turned out, so I redid it. There’s eyestrain under the cut so be warned

Just a reminder that my ask box is open for art requests!

[honey-pages]

Quick and Quiet - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Quick public sex in a spare room in the lab, possessive Viktor.

1.1k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Dom Viktor. Posessive. Dirty Talk. Creampie.

It was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the lab and research centre full swing. You and Viktor had been overseeing some minor work that needed doing but nothing too pressing. It was a regular day, people busying past with arms loaded with paper work, inattentive to the growing sexual tension between the two of you. 

You knew that when you got back to his study, things would unfold. You decide to tease him, its only fair that he has to be just as frustrated as you are. You spot an empty room off to the side of one of the main corridors, and nudge him towards the door as you approach.

Viktor looks at you strangely, questioning what you are doing, before catching on.

He chuckles subtly, “Oh really?”

He pushes the door open with his hand and you both quickly step inside, closing it behind you and manoeuvring out of view. He pins you to the wall, his arms on either side of your head. He leans down to kiss you, moving backwards at the last second to make you kiss at the open air.

“Desperate” He mocks, this time allowing the kiss. 

“Maybe I just want you Vik” You smile up at him

“Right here?”

“Right here”

Viktor’s hand trails down the side of your body, feeling you, weighing up the consequences of getting caught. He stops over your waist, lowering to grope at your underwear through your clothes. He presses at your clit, applying just the right amount to have you reactively grinding at his hand.

“You want me to fuck you here, where anyone could hear us?”

You respond by pulling him back into a kiss. Viktor breaks it, turning you around and pinning your hips to a table. You were only just out of view of the door, too close.

“Quietly”, Viktor purred in your ear. 

“People will see Vik-“

“They’ll hear first”

You feel the length of him rest at the side of your thigh. He presses himself to the back of you. He holds one hand on your hip and the other on the edge of the table he has you pressed against. 

“You say the words, and I stop. Though I can guarantee someone else will hear them first”

“Don’t stop-“

He muffles your mouth with his hand, having heard all he needed. He bends you at the waist, positioning you over the table. Viktor keeps his mouth at your neck, faintly whispering to you, almost inaudible, breathy.

“Keep quiet and take it.”

Viktor slides your trousers down your thighs, allowing them to pool around your knees. He works his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down. You feel exposed, realising your nakedness and proximity to the door. If someone would look through, you would not be hidden fully. It would be obvious at first sight. They would know exactly what you and Viktor were doing. 

He unzips and manages his trousers and underwear down to his mid thigh. There is a growing warmth as you feel his cock rest against you. He grinds it on you slowly, reminding you of the familiar length and feel. The heat of him in the cold room makes you more aware of the warmth of yourself and how when you shift your weight, you could feel the wetness slide between your thighs. 

“I didn’t realise you so publicly wanted to be my whore, (Y/N)”

You grind back, his cock pressing against you, a little higher and he may just push in. He lines himself up.

“So eager” He nibbles at your ear, the hand covering your mouth spreading to insert a finger between your lips and against your tongue. 

You swirl your tongue over the tip and he grinds forward, thrusting into you to the middle of his length. You moan against his palm.

There are footsteps from outside as people walk further down the corridor, it feels too good to care.

Viktor slowly thrusts in and out of you, though not deeply. You are completely aware of how deep he usually is, how he normally fills you. You groan in frustration, trying to push back, to make him fill you.

He stops moving, you feel his grin against your skin, his teeth against your neck

“If I knew it was this easy to take you, I would have done this years ago. All it takes is a little bit of danger, and listen to the sound you make”

Viktor pulls all the way out, and pushes all the way in, creating a wet slapping sound. You body is betraying you, dripping wetness down your thigh. Viktor removes his hand from your mouth and you make a silent promise to not give away your location. 

His hand replaces at the back of your neck and he pushes you gently down to the table, bent completely over it. He grips at your waist. His thrusts become more rhythmic, the sounds of the two of you become repetitive and he finds a comfortable pace. 

“You feel amazing, (Y/N). This is mine, you understand?”

“Yes, Vik-“ You respond, trying to keep a grip on your sound level.

He is speeding up, the noise must be audible to the outside. He is panting and whimpering, grabbing at the sides of you.

"Mine?”

“Yours”

“You belong-“ He starts, losing himself in the pleasure “-to me”

“Viktor-“

“Shh-“

You feel wetter than previously. The table was rough and sharp at your waist but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything, you looked around to the door window - no one was there. Would you really have cared if they were? If they watched the way Viktor fucked you?

Your hands are holding onto the far side of the table, fingers white from the force of his thrusts. He buries a hand in your hair, pulling back your neck, forcing your head upwards, tilting to watch him over your shoulder. 

“You’re mine.” He mumbles as he fucks hard and fast.

“They’ll hear-“ You try to protest, a blush rising.

“Then they’ll hear me cum in you” 

His hips are wild, he’s filling you deeply. He is slowing slightly, becoming more powerful in each swing. You feel him twitch and he begins to unravel.

“You’re-“ He manages, louder than he should have.

On his next thrust, you feel him filling you with thick cum, still grinding and pushing between spasms. He maintains his rhythm, coating the whole length of your insides, fucking it into you. 

“Im yours Viktor” You finish his sentence, barely able to string it together.

The footsteps return, closer, faster. 

You both look wide-eyed pulling up your clothes and fixing your appearances, damp with a sheen of sweat and a manic look. The gravity of what you just did has struck. Viktor is still catching his breath. You feel the mess he has made begin to seep into the fabric of your underwear. 

You both make a quick exit, red faced, heading straight for Viktor’s study.

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz.