#I just don't know how I want to draw hair

[hivemuthur]

hey!!!! i saw that your requests were open and decided to give it a shot.

Can you write a fluff modern AU! Viktor x reader where reader is in a depressive episode (the bed rotting stage) and rly needs somebody near. (i hope you understand what I'm talking about :C, just really need smth like that)

its okay if you're uncomfortable writing that!!!

берегите себя.

Dear lazysocksato, I wrote you a little thing and I hope it makes you feel a tiny bit less shitty. And if not, that is also okay.

I Sink Into Bliss

viktorxgn!reader general audiences, Modern AU (if you squint), depressed reader, hurt/comfort or angst/fluff (I don't really know how writing tags work, it's generally Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men)

author’s note: features a poem by E.E. Cummings. I wanted to give this request a higher priority, as I understand what a lifetime struggle with depression feels like. The picture is by me, I took it when I was particularly sad. There is one more ask with depression in it and it also has a high priority.

word count: 1,2K

—

A creak of the door lets in a ray of light, its edges sharp, dust motes dancing in the glow. “Hey,” comes a quiet voice, and you curl up tighter. Keep it to yourself; don’t hurt him. You desire nothing, but you need, need, need for him to be steadfast, unmovable, until you are ready to want again. So you turn to face him, letting him do his regular check-up routine, and with the rust in your voice, you say, “Hi.”

Viktor smiles, a glass of water in his hand, a book tucked under his armpit. “Can I sit with you?” He looks angelic, his hair illuminated by the light pouring from the corridor, refracted in the glass. The question, asked with enough space for you to say no, hangs in front of you, waiting for you to swing it.

But you nod and extend your hand across the bed. He props his cane by the nightstand and sits, squeezing your palm before giving you the glass. And you feel yourself suddenly more bereft as the image of something that is no longer there lingers in the landscape—it happens when his fingers brush against yours.

Your eyes sting with dryness as you draw a rattling breath. Every joint feels stiff, each minuscule movement sending a sharp crack through even the smallest ones—your fingers, your toes. You clutch the pillow tighter, desperate to muffle the outside world until it disappears.

He looks at you with quiet understanding when he says, “I have to ask. How are you feeling?” His body shuffles closer to yours, so the space between you becomes tiny and private, comfortable enough for you to tell him that you feel like shit. You accept the invitation to rest your hand on his lap, grateful that you don’t have to look at his face.

“Like shit,” you chuckle stiffly, and Viktor sweeps your hair away from your neck and smooths it with his hand. He presses his fingers between your eyebrows and drags them all the way to your temple. His hand rests over your ear, fingertips pressing gently above, massaging your head.

You hum through an exhale and add, “A little bit less like shit now.”

“Good.” His voice is warm, and you can feel the faint pulse of his heart under your touch, your palm resting beneath his clothes on his chest. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks carefully.

“What’s to tell? It’s hard to describe,” you whisper as his hand slides down your back to rest on your ribcage, your heart adjusting its rhythm to his. “It’s very hollow. But I’m glad you’re here.”

He doesn’t ask why or when it will end, and you feel something close to gratitude for this version of you being accepted. His hand is heavy on you, forcing you to breathe slowly and deeply through your nose, and you allow your eyes to fall shut and water, just a bit.

“I will be here as long as you need me to,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing. He moves his other hand to comb through your hair and trace the features of your face, and suddenly you feel yourself deprived of a touch that is more.

You shift and wordlessly ask for permission to climb onto his lap, your arms hovering over his shoulders. He leans into your hands, draping them over himself, and props your legs to swing over his.

With your face pressed to the warm crook of his neck, you shudder and hear yourself saying, “I’m sorry.”

Immediately, his mouth begins to make soothing shushing sounds as he says, “There is no need for that, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

His scent fills your nose as you breathe him in, and you know he means it. I love you, you imagine yourself saying, the understanding of it absent but the knowledge present.

“I know, I just… I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” you say weakly, your words bouncing off his throat as he makes a quiet sound of veto.

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “None of that. I am glad to be here,” he murmurs into your hair and hugs you tighter. “Whatever you need, I am here.”

“Oh, you know,” you try your best to sound light, even though the request is unbidden as it pushes itself past your mouth. “Just some good old love, until this… passes,” you say in a small voice.

He pauses the glide of his hands on you and props your chin up to meet his eyes. “You always have it. It’s hard to describe.” You look at him pensively and see the sincerity of his smile, and your own mouth crooks into something smile-adjacent as you place a grateful palm on his cheek.

He picks up the tiny tome he brought with him and opens it to the bookmarked page.

“There are no words in me to tell you how loved you are. So let me read you something instead.” His whisper is confined; it’s yours, only yours. Even though no one can hear you—even if they stood with a glass pressed to the door—he keeps it a secret between the two of you.

You close your eyes and nod, your ear now pressed to his chest, arm wrapped around his waist. His hand holds you close, the book resting on his lap as he begins to read. His whisper is a husk, murmured against your skin, and the sound melts the icy bars around your ribcage.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)                                   i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Silence, for a moment, as you breathe and feel a single tear rolling down your cheek, and with its departure, some weight is lifted. “Thank you,” you sigh into him, not really knowing what you are thanking him for. And when he speaks again, it’s as if he is coaxing your soul to uncurl.

“I mean it.” He places his hand over your chest, and his voice carries a reverence akin to a vow. “I will carry it for you, as long as you need me to.”

[obscureother]

the og cockney criminal f/o.

screaming for better res photos one day of him.

What do your f/o's hugs feel like? he gives hard tight hugs!! sometimes theyre cold tho if he's been outside rgkf- or very warm cos he just got back from ESCAPING THE POLICE. good strong hugs tho, he gives hard pats on the back or very big squeezes -v-

What are your favorite dates to have with them? s/i 1's most favorite date he ever took her on was one where he couldn't afford a proper dinner date somewhere nor did he really have a place to stay for the night. . but this was when he was still too anxious to go to her house often. so what he did was he found a very obscure alley, and he got some mattresses and blankets and stuff and made a little fort for them (cos bb loves the forts, and it would keep them from getting rained on if there was weather). he got spray paint, chinese takeout, and stole a guitar. . and they hung out together for the night until she convinced him to go home with her once they were getting tired. . he was teaching her how to draw with the spray paint, got her extra shrimp on her little rice box. . played a little quiet guitar for her while they laid on each other. very nice night for them. . for me and barry tho, i like taking him out with me to old drive-ins or car shows :0 he likes old cars and motorcycles and stuff, and i like the movies. . so car shows and drive-in theatres are like. . the coolest for him to go on. uvu

What are their favorite dates to have with you? he likes to find hideouts i think :0 or spending the night at hotels where they can do whatever they want no consequences (except s/i 1 still worries about trashing the hotel room consequences and doesnt usually fall into that kdjfds-) but he likes going to cool abandoned stuff or finding neat places to sneak into with her. i think he would do the same with me, except given the f/o version of him cant drag me out to scary places, he just keeps me feeling safe whenever im walking around at night and thats how we talk and hang out sometimes.

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you? oh lots of them tbh. . he would have a whole playlist if i made the time, but i think our jam is Motley Crue "Rock 'N Roll Junkie," especially cos it came from the movie he's from. I think he's gotten into the Arctic Monkeys "R U Mine" one tho. . ?

What's the height difference between you and your f/o? he is uhh. . 5'11", so roughly 6 inches or so taller than me or s/i 1.

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you? 10/10 will make out sloppy for PDA. Does not care, would do it just to show off or fluster me or s/i 1 for sure.

What's your favorite feature about your f/o? other than his outfit, i do just like the way he giggles and grins. . i like his hair tho too. i dont normally think of lighter hair colors, but his is good. i like his swoopy curls going on. . they make me want to hold on them.

What do you think they smell like? assuming he's not covered in blood and sweat from fighting on the streets, he normally smells very heavily of worn leather, cheap cologne, smoke, whiskey. . like, you know he's been outside and that jacket has gone through every kind of weather, but the leather smell is still thick and very addictive. bad influence he is. if he doesnt get you smoking off his cigarettes, drinking with him, or doing something stupid, you get hooked on his jacket like the metaphorical drug he's looking for instead.

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love. he's very physical, but to know he's not just thinking of you as a one-off, its just that he keeps coming back for you. he keeps in contact with you, he trusts you. . the man is on the run. if he wants to keep you, he's going to try to, even if he can't do it as often as he likes at first. he has to ease himself into feeling safe to keep going back to somewhere not because of you, but because of the people he works for or against, and because he's scared of putting the one he cares about in danger. To know him as anything other than "Smiley" or see the tender side from his alter ego, that is his one step towards maybe liking you more than he planned to. he also has teasing where he's being a bully, and teasing because he likes someone and likes to see their cute reactions to things or play with them. he banters for love.

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them? barry, both as f/o and in the universe with s/i 1, will. . try on occasion to stay the night. he gets anxious about the police or his enemies finding him when he sleeps somewhere, and on top of him worrying about them getting the other person involved, he doesnt always actually sleep when he stays the night unless he is plum exhausted from running or other things. he likes to share a bed with me or s/i 1, he likes to get close and grabby and physical until we/they both fall asleep because he rarely gets that anymore even from the girls he used to sleep with, but he feels like he cannot or something bad will happen.

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o? ok ive got a couple. one: the guy can almost never just freaking die lol. he's gotten a tv smashed on his head in a flooded boat, several car and motorcycle wrecks, he's fallen from the like, fifth floor of the Capitol Records building or something ONTO A PIANO. . omg. and then for f/o version, i HC that Ford didn't quite get a fatal shot on him and Smiley was just stunned. He just has immeasurable luck against fate itself or something lol. He's escaped traps and captures i dont know how many times. two: he had to learn to like cats. . he used to hate them. very much a dog guy instead, he likes the scary ones but he also likes really any kind of dog that isnt just annoying (he's less fond of the yappy smaller breeds), but he does learn to like cats. . so now he likes my cats :)) but only my cats. . and only some of the nice strays he's come across, but he's still kind of hesitant of cats most of the time.

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have? very stereotypical bad boy/criminal x good girl kind of thing. he would sneak onto college grounds with s/i 1 or me, smuggle himself places he wasnt supposed to be to meet up. he's got a soft spot for ones like s/i 1. . very tough guy/soft baby contrast going on. love him. he does indulge in those stereotypes or lets us play cops and robbers with him but hot wheels version.

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day? he doesnt know well how to comfort really other than going like "ah yeah, fak that guy." or getting your mind off things. he'll get me to think of other stuff like cool stories he's got of literal crimes he's committed, bank heists he went on, or he plays hot wheels with me or tells me about cool cars he saw or got to ride (as in he stole them, and they may or may not have been crashed before he could return them from "borrowing" them for a joy ride.) he also talks in funny cockney slang, usually insults or horrible things one shouldnt say to make me laugh. uvu

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like? ya!! he let me hold his hand, he dont mind 👉🏻 👈🏻 he would rather be holding other things rdfgkdf- he's kind of a grabby guy, but he can hold hands too instead. he keeps a good grip on me to keep me safe, its kind of a habit for him, but not so tight or overly protective as other f/os are. more casual for him.

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc) ya he like give kisses. . he kinda messy or like. . in the face with them tho sometimes. not that he cant be sensual or tender or that its all the time, but its kind of like. yknow, how you would expect rough guys or flirty criminals to kiss you. he gives them on the neck, side of the face, or the side or top of the head. sometimes he gives shoulder kisses. .

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them? ya i give him kisses too :0 i like to kiss his face -v- on his stubble, or pinch his cheeks before i kiss them!! i kiss his hands. . on his knuckles, his fisties. cos they do too much punching. they need more kisses. forehead kisses. . chest, shoulder kisses. . yaa, i love give himb kisses <33

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o? he plays hot wheels with me :0 or he teaches me cockney slang! usually bad things i wont never say to people skdjsf= but its fun!! and he teases me when i dont say something right. sometimes we also watch scary movies, cos he likes those -v- he'll make fun of people on the tv then we both make fun of them together.

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they have for you, if they have one? he gives spicy compliments usually 😳 i dont mind those, but he does tease me cos im not used to spicy things. . but we make references to bonnie and clyde (i know, basic 😔 but we joke about how we DONT get caught and filled with holes kfsd-) or being partners in crime. . sometimes he teases me for being like. . the polar opposite of how he is, "good girl" kind of thing if you will. tends to call me "doll" more than the other brit f/os. .

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them? i like to talk to him about his smile. . s/i 1 once told him that even tho everyone calls him "Smiley" because he laughs or grins when he does his job or gets into any kind of trouble, she calls him that and just thinks of how warm his smile is or makes her feel. . he gets called a few things other than smiley, tho. he's normally just called Barry, but sometimes he's called things like "giggly crime man" or "cockney criminal" (while technically i now have two of those, there is really only one that i regularly call that and that is him.) there's no other "cockney criminal" to me than Barton. . 🖤

I want everyone to have the chance to ramble about their romantic f/os, so I'm gonna make a reblog game where yall can answer the plethora of questions I'm gonna toss down. Any of the questions you want to answer, as little or as much as you'd like!! I'll read them all. PR.O.SHIP DNI!!! AT ALL! GET OUT-

SO!! SELFSHIPPERS! RIDDLE ME THIS:

What do your f/o's hugs feel like?

What are your favorite dates to have with them?

What are their favorite dates to have with you?

Do you have any songs that remind you of them? Do they have any songs that make them think of you?

What's the height difference between you and your f/o?

On a 1-10 scale, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most, how much do they like PDA with you?

What's your favorite feature about your f/o?

What do you think they smell like?

What is your f/os biggest love languages? They don't have to be one of the "five", it can be anything specific they use to show you love.

Do you guys sleep in the same bed? If so, what's it like sleeping with them?

What's your favorite headcanon about your f/o?

What is the dynamic that you and your f/o have?

What does your f/o do for you when you're having a rough day?

Do you like to hold hands? If so, what's that like?

Do they like to give you little kisses? If so, where is their favorite place to kiss? (Face, hands, etc)

Vice versa, do YOU like to give them little kisses? If so, where is YOUR favorite place to give them?

What's your favorite silly leisure activity to do with your f/o?

What is your favorite compliment that your f/o gives you? What is your favorite nickname that they for you, if they have one?

What's your favorite compliment to give THEM? What is your favorite nickname to call them?

Okay I can't wait to see some answers!! Feel free to reblog as many times with as many f/os as you want. ANYONE CAN PARTICIPATE! SEEING THIS POST IS AN INVITATION FOR YOU!!

People I'd like to see answer this off the top of my head (but don't have to!!): @moxanji-real @one-winged-dreams @lovesickvalentines @graveluvr @clawingatmy-enclosure @starshakez @jpeg-indulgence @everynya @tropgothships @selfshipping-tboy @amelielovesamaris @pixel-comfort @fl0ralsxgar

[diorcities]

heaven

── you don't need to imagine. you know it's true. they say all good boys go to heaven but bad boys bring heaven to you. haechan x afab!reader genre smut, tooth-rotting fluff mature content smut ver of this, domestic love, oral sex, riding, multiple orgasm, overstim, clit stimulation, nipple/cum play, unprotected sex, creampie, small convo during sex, love making, slight rough sex, petname (darling, baby), switch!hyuck, sweet aftercare wc 3k

author's suggestion for next reading: stargazing.

that was the night that it all began.

he crosses his arms as he leans against the wall, chatting with some guy just as handsome as him. dancing his eyebrows and looking so effortlessly alluring. he catches your eye. “who's he?”

“haechan.” among the bodies, he embodies sunlight. colored lights cascade down his face when he holds your gaze. you find out breathless.

“funny...” you hear yourself say.

haechan. you heard it before, in a dream.

the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek accompanied by the gentle beating of his heart made the same sedative effect of melatonin; hushed breathing and feather-light touches at midnight.

you could watch him sleep for eternity.

battling the sleep that closes your eyes and numbs your muscles —your fingers, drawing lines that connect his moles.

his lips in a pout are slowly kissed. imprinting the love and fond you feel, too heavy to carry on your own. his full cheeks. his jaw. the visible extension of his neck. everything is touched by you. only you. like cardinal points that you know by heart, by inertia.

“can't sleep?” his voice sounds distorted by sleep.

you hum in denial. “no.” you can't. not when you're full of love.

his lips display a soft and tired smile, “what were you doing?”

“nothing. were you dreaming?”

he opens one eye, curling his plump lips, “dreaming?” he mocks.

“you said my name.”

he smiles mischievously. “maybe i was, then. i was dreaming of you.”

you let the warmth envelop your body; you're made of liquid tenderness and longing. melted in the tangle of emotions that are still felt around, in the messy sheets, in the ghost of a body imprinted on the mattress, in the still disoriented parts of your mind. in your head, lost in outer space.

you feel your cheeks burning before he leans closer to kiss you. love-filled kisses each deeper and burdened. “keep doing it.”

“what thing?” you whisper quietly.

you feel his fingers stroking your hair, “nothing.” and an hourglass later. “i'm all yours.”

oh.

despite the space between your bodies. despite still feeling his lips in areas where only he has reached. to hear his favorite songs, to be able to recite them from memory now. staying up until the wee hours; you've never felt this close to someone.

haechan is bad. you say to yourself. your friends know it. your parents don't like him... but, but you know him. you know him thoroughly. deeply. and when the two of you are like this, so close, he looks just as an angel even though he's far from good.

you've always known the good guys go to heaven, but the bad boys bring heaven to you.

“what do you want?” he usually asks, with one of those sharp and alluring smiles; the charm of any gemini boy.

and the answer always remains the same. “your heart.”

and now your whole body is burning from the eternal craving.

“go ahead,” he whispers against your lips, “make me proud.”

you caress his stomach, and the breath he was holding up until that moment doesn't go unnoticed. he's so much of an expert. from the way he knows how to touch you, and how to make you see starts.

you want to be so tender. softer. you don't want to be like the other girls. you want him to remember you when he's with someone else. when he gets bored of your prudishness as everyone expects him to. if he does, you want him to imagine you when someone else touches him.

that's the promise you make to him. the curse you put on him.

you know where all his moles are, and when your mouth rests on one that you're sure he doesn't remember is there, a deep sound vibrates in his stomach and one of his hands brush the side of your face with affection. your cheeks light up from his sudden gesture, and coaxs you to repeat it, lower this time.

haechan swallows hard. face burning and tickling. opening his mouth when he feels you and everything explodes, and he can't control his face contracting into a eased grimace or his pulse pounding behind his ears when your wet mouth closes and takes him in it; he feels all the thick blood flowing down, and a hoarse, strangled groan reaches your ears.

it's soft. thick. you want to be sweet. his circumference doesn't stop you from treating it gently as it's so delicate; your mouth water at the feeling of tasting him. he's so sensitive even after you've done it a couple times before. you suck on his limb member, bobbing your head up and down, feeling the silky skin of his tip on your pouting lips. feeling it grow in your hand, where your palm stimulates his length while you lick the sensitive area of his cock.

he hiss affected by that, and moans loudly.

his cock is fully erect. bigger and pinker. with a coarse vein running the length of his penis, firm and heavy. your mouth starts salivating, you feel a hole open up in your belly before you take him again. the pit grows wider when it almost doesn't go into your mouth like before; it feels full. and you feel it pulse. your lips close around the base where haechan bristles. “just like that,” he coaxes, “that's my girl.”

your hand stays at the base as you turn the motion of your head against his cock. tongue stimulating his girth, passing it up and down, making circles on his hard length. breathing becoming deeper, his voice raspier. the sounds that fog up your ears exquisitely more audible. the way your mouth sits around him makes his thoughts become an incoherent jumble, where he can't talk you through properly anymore, “a-ah, darling. fuck—” incoherent sounds and elongated vocals that you steal every time you apply pressure where he likes. your pretty mouth on his cock, your cheeks puffing up every time you suck him, your lips on the tip of his penis when you pull him out and start stimulating him with your hands after leaving him glistening and sensitive.

you bite your lip as you see his slit fill with creamy liquid. you feel your body burn and your gaze become heavy as you stare at the clear fluid that comes out of it. mouth watering before you lean again and have a taste. “f-uck,” he breathes as he crumples the sheets into fists, buckling his hips into your mouth. his dick shoves all the way to the back of your throat and he whimpers breathlessly, “... baby.” suddenly with urgency. mouth half open while breathing sharply, he strokes your hair with care, and you pay back by exerting force against his length with your tongue.

“o-oh god—” his whole body shudders beneath you, “fuck, yn!” he jerks, his muscles tensing tightly before he explodes in your mouth. warm, thick cum pours out of his cock in pronounced pulsations. your mouth softens around him and receives his seed as your hand massages the soft skin of his shaft. tongue softly milking his tip until the last drop.

his cock falls heavy and languid on his stomach, gleamy and coated in saliva and cum. your mouth feels full of him, drooling from the corners of your mouth while you try not to spill anything, savoring it before haechan sees you slide it thickly down your throat. you see him catch his lower lip between his teeth, rosy cheeks leaving his beauty marks to stand out on his bewildered face.

his wild eyes see you waiting, the heavy air left by your forced breathing, sharpening as he sits up in bed and his fingers grab your waist. “good job, baby,” he congratulates you before his mouth attacks yours in a warm, debauchery kiss. both humming when his tongue steal the taste of his remains in yours, “my good girl, i'm so proud of you, baby. you want your reward?”

you find yourself being dragged into his lap as you feel enraptured by the friction that is generated when you sit on top of him. there's nothing in between when you sit on him and you can feel with every fiber his figure beneath you. legs positioning on each side of his body, a tremor whips over you as his fingers playfully brush against your thighs. all the build up of the night heating you up with barely nothing. “needy, baby?” he whispers, digits going dangerously to your core, “want me to take care of you?” your breath freezes when you feel him inserting his index fingers into you, a vast pit erupting inside you.

haechan twirls his digit before adding a second one.

your head starts spinning as you feel him sit them comfortably against your sensitive walls. “all wet and ready for me?” he coos, “by sucking me off?” his thumb taps gently your swollen clit and sends shivers down your stomach. something slips down before a throb assaults his fingers wrapped around you. “you make me hard again,” he breathes, rubbing your folds in circles while he rocks his fingers, delighted by your features contracting with each stroke. his free arm drags you closer, and you almost cry when his mouth takes one of your breasts and sucks your erect nipple. fingers removed from you so he can guide his tip to your needy entrance.

walls contracting when he slides with ease his dick so you could enhance the feeling of him burying in you. both breathing out at the overwhelming sensation, a moan escaping your lips by the way he fits inside, arms wrapping him as you take him all. your hips buckle forward to feel him in every nerve ending inside, mouth parting open when he uses his tongue around your aureole, flicking your tits.

haechan rubs your stomach, easing the tangling feeling that releases waves of pleasure through your bloodstream. “let's see how long it takes you to cum if i do this,” he says, using both hands to start rocking your hips back and forth, and while doing this, he kisses you softly. his mouth doesn't leave your lips as you immerse yourself in a desire so raw and intense that your body becomes liquid and your mind clouds over. your body is filled with a soft and fuzzy feeling, and you find yourself wishing you had something to soothe your soul.

“i love you, darling.” something like that.

your chest tightens and presses against the furious flutter that cuts off your airflow and suddenly you find yourself gasping as haechan rocks you on his growing erection and you feel stingers poking at your legs wildly, numbing the muscles around your femininity. “does it feels good?” he asks gently and you're too carried away of the pain that forms on your belly to answer immediately. your mouth only opens to let out a strangled whine. “o-oh, yes—” hands squeezing his flexed forearms, moving you in and out of his length.

haechan grows inside you and a spasm pulls your head back. his dick squeezes against your walls and fills you with exhilarating pleasure. he keeps moving your hips as you find yourself mesmerized by the way he buries himself in you. bigger. thicker. harder. haechan won't leave your waist while he tortures you grinding you against him with a steady touch, and suddenly it's too much; his kisses are too much, the way he grasps you, the way he whispers praises, the way his eyes don't leave your features, exploding until you feel light and numb, feeling your pussy burn when you start to pulse, stroking his cock rhythmically.

“done so quick, doll?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your thighs. a cocky grin blooms on his lips and you hit him lightly.

your hips inadvertently wiggle from side to side on his cock, a smile comes to your lips at the tingling followed by a jerking, awakening your senses. “...d'you feel the same way i feel this?” you wonder between gasps.

he's enraptured in the sensations that overwhelm him, “i do... you're doing so nice, hmm...” haechan lies back on the bed and pulls you with him, you find yourself straddling him, legs spread on each side of his hips, as you comfortably accommodate in the best position so his cock presses deliciously against your swollen, needy spot before you start rocking your hips picking up the pace. wet and lascivious sounds coming out of the motion of his cock sliding in and out of you, covered in your silky lubrication. pleased by the dainty moans that start to fill the room at the beat of your pounding. at the beat of your heartbeats.

you're already on the verge for nothing. carried away by the sensation of his thickness only. the way he stretches you out sends a pleasing feeling on your nerves and you accentuate your thrusts sharply and fast. haechan's hands shoot up and grip your waist, and the simple gesture sends the purest pleasure shooting through your system, blurring your vision, and filling your mind with dense, white noise. lewd sounds rhythmically synching with your hoarse moans, hands landing on his stomach for more balance as his head lolls back and his jaw clenches for the new angle.

you are completely possessed by the sweetness that spreads through your body. for the sedative sensation that fills your mind and blurs your gaze. “feels so good—” you breathe riding him with eagerness, with his cock wreaking havoc on you, making you unbridled like a madwoman and uncovering primal desire. your hands grip him when a sharp twinge shakes you and pleasure spills into your belly.

your lips squeeze together as the crushing orgasm leaves you gasping for air and agitated, shaking your body in waves of pleasant content as haechan holds you on top of him, taking every twitch of your pussy around his cock. his girth drives you to the brim as you ride your orgasm.

haechan opens his eyes in awe when you soon resume the motion on him. your body has become a bundle of spasms and tremors, unable to give you a break from the big pit in your stomach that threatens to shatter you. uncontrollable moans come from his lips in utter desperation, using his strength to mark the rhythm of your pelvis moving over him, cock lubricated by your arousal causing squelching sounds that join his whines. narrowed eyes in an anguished grimace that fades with one last thrust before a spasm assails him and he begins to slow down, moves becoming sloppier as he reach his high.

your body rises on his stomach, feeling his soft cock slide out of you, the sensation of something coming down before his belly is covered in tiny beads of cum. your sensitive walls are still widened by his girth, you feel your body tremble at not having him inside you.

haechan blinks slowly, trying to shake the lethargy out of his body. his hands gently caress your sides as he moves slightly beneath you in an involuntary stimulus. his tired eyes watch you staring at him intensely.

“more?” he wonders, chuckling, lolling his head back onto the pillow. one of his hands leaves your waist to take his cock and guide it towards your entrance. “are you sure?” you tap him gently in his stomach, feeling him stuff you again. your arousal slipping out of you, soaking your thighs and the extension of his crotch and stomach makes it easy for him to slide in. “mhm... just be gentle,” he whispers, before closing his eyes at the sensitiveness.

it takes you a while to get moving again. feeling haechan back inside of you. a comfortable sensation glides down his length, fills your swollen walls with warmth. stretching over his cozy body as you feel your muscles relax and tingle when you feel him hit that sweet spot inside. a sound comes from his lips and your legs tremble. it feels so good. “you feel amazing,” he coos, “so good, and perfectly tight.”

you begin to rock your hips back and forth. your body feels light as you move over hin, letting out breathy sounds of how good it feels. fire spreading down your legs as you perceive the sweet burning in your intimate area. feeling his fingers burn as he massages the swollen, tender lump on your clit, releasing waves of pleasure that shake your body and delight haechan's eyes. totally possessed by the sharp pain that plagues you, moving so painfully slowly over him, inducing the purest desire. “f-uck” you whine, fingers poking at your sensitive nipples sending electricity down your belly. your pussy pulse sharply.

haechan twitches under you, and the movement causes it to bury his dick deeper.

you hear him hissing, “shit,” he whispers with labored breathing before you can feel the bulge inside you grow and become stiffer. your breath gets stuck in your throat at all the sensations that come your way. his hands now control your waist and you let him change the speed of the thrusts. all your senses squeal and become cluttered by the sensation that begins to grow in your lower belly.

haechan growls and his eyes darken, filling your body, seeing you on top of him, possessed by the way he's fucking you. his cock starts tickling when your stomach contracts, your body goes numb and feels heavier and heavier. a hole opens in the mouth of your belly, and you feel it painfully descend to your intimate area until it explodes and leaves you shattered.

your body is strongly moved by him when he shifts you under him. hands grabbed by the wrists above your head feeling him bury every inch of his cock inside you, before he starts thrusting you with quick and merciless movements. your legs stretch and spill out on the bed as your mind shuts down from the devastating sensations that take over you. “hae... ngn.” you can't stop whining as your whole insides collapse and suffer an unbearable feeling that haechan provoked by his thrusts. raw emotions that explode when his lips adjust to yours and he kisses you, feeling your whole body burn and buzz before a white noise takes possession of your senses.

an awl freezes you before letting you writhe on his cock erratically, feeling the tremors take your breath away as you feel him jerks, covering himself in spasms that fill your abused cunt with his hot seed, as he whines loudly. eyes closed tightly at the white noise that fills his mind, as the scorching orgasm leaves you moaning with joy. a stroke of bliss embalms you and you find yourself smiling at the crushing pleasure that comes in waves as you sense his cum sliding down your clenching walls.

haechan lets out one last guttural sound before going still as his cock pulsates less and less along your cunt. his fingers massage your clit some more until the pleasure completely undoes you and you become a hissing mess.

you feel his kisses on the crown of your head as your heart begins to beat slower, beating along with his. so out of breath, and tired. his body is loaded with sleep and love, and when you look at him with your little eyes shining, he can't help but smile. your lips affectionately touch his before you pull away to clean your mess, but halfway through he stops you to come back to him and kiss him deeper, “let me have a taste” he says. eyes gleaming “i bet you taste as sweet as you look.”

[itsnesss]

hey, are you willing to do a Myung-gi x read x jun hee where they both want her and are kind of fighting over her. thanks <3

𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | lee myung-gi & kim jun-hee × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | romantic tension, jealousy, slight arguments

word count | 0.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You were sitting on the edge of your bunk, fiddling with a bracelet. You didn’t want to draw attention, but that seemed impossible with the two of them around.

Myung-gi was leaning against the wall, his frown as deep as always, but his eyes softened every time they landed on you. On the other hand, Jun-hee, with her short hair and confident attitude, sat on the bunk next to yours, pretending not to care about you, though her words cut like knives every time Myung-gi spoke to you.

“What are you doing there alone?” Myung-gi asked suddenly, stepping closer to you. His hands rested on the edge of your bunk.

“Nothing important, just… thinking,” you replied, trying not to hold his gaze for too long.

Jun-hee let out a sarcastic laugh from her spot. “Thinking, sure. Probably thinking about how much she wants to get out of here, not sit around listening to your nonsense, Myung-gi.”

He clenched his jaw, turning to Jun-hee. “And what would you know, Jun-hee? You’re always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

She stood up slowly, her posture steady. “I know more than you think, and I also know she doesn’t need you pretending to be her protector,” she said, motioning toward you with a tilt of her head. “She doesn’t need someone like you, Myung-gi.” It was obvious they had history.

The atmosphere grew tense. You felt the weight of their stares on you, but you didn’t want to intervene just yet. It was as if they were both trying to prove something that didn’t need proving.

“And what do you think she needs, Jun-hee?” Myung-gi shot back, stepping closer to her. His voice was filled with frustration. “Someone like you? Someone who only knows how to use sharp words to hide their own insecurity?”

Jun-hee narrowed her eyes, a sarcastic smile playing on her lips. “At least I don’t need to hide behind excuses to justify my choices, Myung-gi.”

“Enough!” you said, standing between them before things got out of hand. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

They both froze, their expressions shifting from anger to discomfort at your intervention.

“There’s no need for you two to fight over me. This isn’t another test; you don’t have to compete like my attention is some kind of prize,” you added, crossing your arms.

Myung-gi lowered his gaze, his expression softening. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Jun-hee, on the other hand, let out a chuckle. “Don’t worry. He’s the one taking things too seriously.”

You knew Jun-hee used sarcasm as a shield, but you also noticed a hidden vulnerability in her gaze.

...

As you returned to the common dorm, they both walked by your side, competing for your attention in more subtle ways.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt in the test?” Myung-gi asked, his concern evident.

“Of course she’s fine. She’s not as fragile as you think, Myung-gi,” Jun-hee interrupted, rolling her eyes. “But if she needs someone who actually understands her, I’m right here.”

You sighed, tired of the same dynamic. Suddenly, you stopped, turning to face them.

“Can you both stop?” you asked, your voice firmer than you expected. “I don’t need you to take care of me like I can’t do it myself.”

They both fell silent, surprised by your tone. Finally, Myung-gi nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Jun-hee crossed her arms, but her expression softened too. “Alright. Maybe… I went a little overboard.”

[creamecafe]

Fate by "Design" | Salesman x Artist!Fem!Reader

Summary: While doing art in a subway, the Salesman offers you to play Ddakji, a chance to win money. But you wanted his number, when you win your acquaintance with the salesman becomes much more.

Pairing: Salesman x Artist!Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, flirting, allusions to smut/sex, but not explicit

Word Count:

Author's Note: This was requested by Crazy4herluv on my Wattpad book Squid Game Imagines/One-Shots. This is also my first Salesman work, so I hope you enjoy!

*Icon used for this header above that I made in PicsArt is from Pinterest. Divider is from @cafekitsune in this post*

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

The sounds of the almost isolated subway and people walking is the highlight of your daily routine. You had moved to Korea to work for a art company and you do sketches by hand.

It paid very good money but in your free time you liked to be in the subway and do art for others like New York. People would walk and stop to see what you possibly could be doing.

A lot of the time, couples, parents with their kids or even old people would ask for a drawing each day and you get paid at least $130-200 at the end of the day.

Your art simply consisted of charcoal sketches of the person who requested for the art as semi-realistic as possible with a watercolor splash in the back if they ask.

Sometimes you notice while you're drawing or sketching away looking for people to draw, you would see a man in a black suit.

He had black hair and was always carrying a suitcase with him. He was also very handsome, you thought. When you took the time to actually analyze him or look at him, not in a creepy way you thought, you noticed that he would throw something on the ground and slap people.

This guy must be insane, you thought. Slapping people everyday, but it didn't stop you wondering who he really was. You thought of going up to him and asking if he would like his own portrai. But you were nervous of asking such a good looking guy and you are an artist in the subway, so he was way out of your league.

Today felt like any other day. Until one person, the guy in the black suit came up to you. You were going to pack up for the day when you accidentally dropped pencils and other supplies on the floor, then rolled around. As you were on the ground picking up the supplies, you saw polished black shoes stop and turn in front of you.

You look up and see him. The guy in the black suit looks down at you while you're trying to pick up your stuff.

"Good evening ma'am. I have a question for you."

You got up from the floor and brushed off the germs from yourself from the subway ground.

"Hello sir. I finished my hours for the day drawing so I can't accept any art requests right now I'm sorry. You could always come back tomorrow if you like."

"I'm not asking for a drawing. I'm asking if you would like to play a game."

A game? Is this guy Billy the puppet you thought?"

"What game?" You asked?

"It's called Ddakji. Have you heard of it before?"

Ddakji. It should sound familiar but you felt like you don't know it.

"I don't think so. What is it?"

"It's very simple. You fold two pieces of paper, usually of bright colors as it's a children's game like an envelope and the goal is to throw down the paper as hard as you can so the other person's paper flips over."

"What's the point of playing the game?"

"If you win, I'll give you money. A hundred thousand won."

Your eyes widened at what he said. A hundred thousand won? That amount of money to get while doing art in a subway could take a year or two. Yet here's this handsome well kept money offering to you.

"And if I lose?"

"Well usually I slap people until they win or just give up." That explains why you see this man in the subway grounds slapping people and throwing stuff down.

"But seeing how creative you are. How about a portrait of me? Use all your creativity and imagination you can and give me something."

"Ok. I'll play. But I can change something?"

"What is it?" He turns his head to express curiosity. It's rare that people would ask for a change of things while playing, conducting he's the one in charge.

"If I win, I get to have your number."

The salesman is surprised at your boldness to ask him out.

"My number? You could walk out with a hundred thousand won. What could my number offer to you?"

"Well I might see a better prize than money. I see a real piece of art right here." You raised your eyebrow smirking

He smirks at you. This was going to be interesting he thought.

"We have an agreement then?"

You nodded. "I lose, you get a portrait. But if I win..."

"You get my number." The salesman nods smiling. "Five in a row you have to win." He then pulls out two colored orgami tiles of red and blue from his suit jacket.

"What color would you like?"

"Red/blue" you said.

"Alright then. Ladies first."

You look at him and then the ground. 10 in a row you can do this. You took a deep breath and slammed the envelope on the ground. The guy then slams his envelope on the ground flipping yours around.

It created a loud slapping sound and echoed that it startled you. You look up scared he was lying to his word and might actually slap you. You close your eyes and prepare for it.

"What are you doing?" The salesman asks

"Aren't you going to slap me?"

"You don't have to worry. I wouldn't slap a pretty face like yours. I only want a drawing."

Opening your eyes you took a deep breath. At least you wouldn't be slapped.

"1-0" The guys says. You assumed that was his keeping score

You pick up your envelope and roll up your sleeve. You threw it down but it didn't flip the salesmans. He picked his up and slammed it down flipping yours again.

"2-0". Now the chances of getting this guys number seems low and you might look like a fool. You were weren't to give up just yet. You relied on your skills of carrying an easel and so many supplies per day to the game.

Taking a deep breath, you slam down the card and it flipped the guys. You were smiled wanting to jump for joy.

"2-1" You put up 2 fingers with one hand and 1 finger to the guys face.

He said nothing but smirked. Talking wasn't his thing, you noticed. Probably why you found him attractive.

The salesman picks up his card and slams it and your flips over. It was a continuous picking up and flipping cards. You were getting better as the points were getting higher.

Now the score was "7-8". You were becoming tired and kinda wish you were home right now, sleeping. But

The salesman threw down his card and flipped yours. Now it was 8-8. A tie. Just two more and you get his number. You threw yours down and it flipped over. 8-9. Another slam from the guy and it was 9-9.

This was it. You weren't sure you would have enough energy to draw that portrait of his that he wanted. But you needed enough energy to finish this game.

You slammed it down and saw it flipped over. I won, you thought to yourself. Did I actually win? You thought.

"Congratulations. You won ma'am." The salesman smiled.

Those words felt unreal. "Yes! Yes!" You jumped around happy.

"Now, you asked for my number. I suppose you wouldn't have a piece of paper to write down my number, would you?"

What kind of question was that? You were a artist. Blank papers is all you carry. You grab your sketchbook from your bag and a pen to give to him.

He took it from your hands and wrote down his number fast. He gave it back to you and you saw it.

"What do you plan to do with that number, Miss?"

"I was wondering maybe you want to go out?"

"We can do that. Can I pick the place?"

It was the least you could let him do as he offered you money and kept true to his word to give you his money.

"Sure. I'll text you when I'm available. I might see you here too. Who knows?"

He nodded your response smiling.

"You have a good day madam"

"You too" God how you loved how formal he was and calling you madam and ma'am, even though you weren't really that old.

When you went home, you were exhausted but still smiling and excited that you got the guy's number. You texted your name so he could have yours saved as well. You went to bed, wondering what it could lead to. Possibly just one date or even more.

The next day, was the same thing. Wake up, eat breakfast, pack your things and head to the subway. You kept fixing yourself up for the salesman, wondering if he would come by.

He always comes by, you thought. He just has to. You scanned around the subway to see where he is as you didn't want to move your spot. After an hour had passed, it looked like he hadn't been around.

Maybe asking for his number was a bad idea, that he was avoiding to talk to you, you thought. A man walked by and dropped something not that far from you. It looked like money. Seeing this you get up, pick up the bill and try to call out for the man. But it looked like he was already gone. It was

Written in a black permanent marker, it says “Look at your phone ma’am”. Without thinking you check your phone and see a message. Meet me at the park at 4:30 PM. No need to dress so fancy but wear something you feel pretty in.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you couldn’t believe what’s in front of you, more likely what’s on your phone. He’s actually texting you. The weird quiet but handsome black suit guy is texting you. You packed your things and went home and went to get ready to meet him in the park.

It was nothing special that you wore. Just a simple sundress/pantsuit but it was still one of the nicest outfits you had in your wardrobe. You kept wondering just what the man in plan for you. Walking around the park, you see the man still in his suit, hands in front looking around, possibly waiting for you, you thought.

Smiling, you walk up to him. When he sees you, he smiles with no teeth but still showing joy. He reaches out a hand. Looking at it hesitantly, you took his hand. The salesman then took your hand, bowed a little and kissed the back of your hand gently. You felt your heart skipped a beat when he did that.

“Hello ma’am. We meet again.”

“Hi. Were you the person that gave me the bill?”

“Maybe, a beautiful woman like you deserves more.”

Was this a dream? Were you dreaming or is this real. This man seemed to good to be true. You two walked to what would be your first date. The place he picked out for the first date was an art museum. It displayed the finest arts across the worlds and many different paintings. The salesman would ask about each piece and how did it make you feel. You responded to many of his questions but kept looking around. You guys kept talking and asking each other questions to get more acquainted with each other.

After the museum, he took you a some place to eat. Then you guys went to get ice cream. He paid for everything and asked if there’s anywhere else you would like to go. If you tried to pull out your card or even cash to pay for your own things, he would refuse so and said he got everything and that anything you wanted he’ll get for you. It had been late, so he dropped you off home and asked how was everything and if you enjoyed it.

You couldn’t thank him enough for the wonderful day you had comparison to just drawing in a subway for hours. Before you left his car, there was a slight tension between you guys that it could be cut with a knife. The man wanted to say something else but couldn’t stop looking at your lips. Looking at him, you see his hands reach towards your face and cup it as his lips softly touches yours.

His lips were so baby smooth and his cologne was so sharp from his neck, it felt like a gas hyptonixjg you. You cup his face, grazing it with your thumb. He pulls away, still looking at you with such yearning. Your thumb still on his face grazed his lips as you said goodbye and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Ever since that night, you two have been dating. He would take you on dates to other places. Mostly just walks in the park or art related stuff that you like. Your small kisses would turn into small makeouts into something more. He would sometimes, well mostly go over to your place and sleep over. In the mornings he would make breakfast in his underwear. You wish you could draw him right then and there.

He loves to pose for your art or whatever reference you need for your assignment in class. Once a month, he'll take you out to the art store to get whatever supplies you need. Your messy clothing consisted of paint or oil pastel stains is opposite of his clean, ironed and steamed suit. But he loves it either way.

The only time that he was out of the suit was when he was in bed with you. But other than that, you wanted him to be a bit more fun. You wanted to him have more color. Seeing those videos of online of couples doing painting of each others to see both of your art skills.

You begged the salesman to do wit you and he finally agrees. Squealing you get everything ready, canvas, paints, brushes, water and paper towels. You had 10 minutes to try to get each other’s features as accurate as possible

Time passes and both of you guys are done. You show your art of him and it’s him in his suit, pretty accurate and semi realistic but some details were missing. He nods and says it’s impressive of how much you can get done in less than hour.

You ask for his painting and he turns his Canva around and you see you in an almost renaissance like painting. Your mouth dropped and all felt like years of your art skills go away to just 10 minutes.

“What! How’s that even possible? Why didn’t you tell me you were good at art?”

“Well two people can’t be the artists in a relationship. One has to be a muse, to inspire the other.”

You scoffed at his bullshit. He just didn’t want to brag. An idea came in your mind. You grab a paintbrush and leave a stroke of red paint on his face.

“If you want to be a muse, why don’t you have some color on you?”

Smirking, the salesman takes this as a challenge and grabs his paint brush and paints across your face too.

Now you guys were having a paint battle. You tried to paint him more but he lightly grabs your arm and stops you. He leads you the floor, where he’s now on top of you. Seeing this as an opportunity, you grab a bottle of paint that’s open and smeared on his white shirt. He laughs at this and rolls you over where you’re now on top of him, straddling him.

Nothing was said between you both as you kept looking at each other. Like that night of your first date when you guys first kissed. Putting your head down you kiss him and he put his arms around on your back. The paint on your guys’ face mixed with each other. Breath was running out so you decided to stop. Your heart was beating so much just as he was trying to catch his breath too.

Now you’re forever grateful you asked for his number then taking the money. It’s a better reward than what the salesman had to offer you, as you got him, yourself. It felt like a dream come true. Even if it was, you didn’t want to wake up. Everything of being with him was like straight art. Maybe it was meant to be. That day you accidentally dropped your pencils and he came up to you. It could be called fate by others. Fate by design you like to call it.

He was right, one has to be the muse in a relationship and the other an artist. But to him, it was the thing he was missing the most. An new reason to be in the subway that fateful day.

Taglist:

@deffreal, @cocofia143, @sorry-meme, @elizabeth-hatake, @nini-0808, @hobinistaworld, @ineedsmootching, @alittlebitofeverything , @happyfrog7681 , @tiuhiatus, @goofiestgoober27, @jayyyourbabe, @ninahorikoshifr, @ikeithy , @vampiregirlxoxo, @ouwioworuuu, @cloudysxkura, @l4venderia, @anthea1239, @iidontwannadiealone,

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[rinsthighsweat]

hi i saw your latest works and they are so good. you wrote that you write nsfw but you dont do it well so can i ask for something light if you dont mind? bllk characters who are more stoic/dominant and all that in normal life but with a very dominant s/o in bed? just headcanons if you want 🦅

Hey anon!!! Thank you so much! And sure, I tried to do it the best I could, I hope you like it, I made it like a mixture of headcanons and fanfics. You didn't name any characters so I decided to put the ones I know the most and like writing about, I hope you don't mind that! Oh yeah, also... Sorry for the delay, I had busy days.

Light nsfw! In these scenarios Rin is already an adult.

They are not dominant in everything

Rin, Barou, Kaiser, Shidou and Aiku | masterlist

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin has always been in control of his life, his training, his emotions, his career. But when you confidently take the lead in the bedroom, it shakes his world in a way he never anticipated.

The first time you pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with a mischievous smirk, he froze. His sharp eyes widened slightly before narrowing, his voice a mix of defiance and curiosity. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He tries to maintain his stoicism, but the way your hands explore his body, coupled with your commanding tone, has his breath hitching.

Rin isn’t particularly vocal, but the way his body reacts, tense muscles relaxing under your touch, the soft gasps he can’t suppress, says everything.

You teasingly call him out for being so obedient, and his face flushes red as he mutters, “I’m not… I just…�� before trailing off, completely at your mercy.

Post-intimacy, he’ll try to act indifferent, turning his face away while his ears burn red. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that next time.” But deep down, he craves more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Barou Shoei

Barou doesn’t relinquish control easily, and the idea of someone dominating him initially makes him scoff. “Like hell you’re calling the shots.” But when you assert yourself, pinning him down, he’s speechless for the first time.

He fights it at first, growling lowly as if to test you, but the firm, confident way you handle him stirs something unexpected within him.

Barou is a mix of frustration and desire, his breaths coming out in heavy pants as he realizes how much he enjoys being at your mercy.

You teasingly tell him he’s more obedient than he lets on, and his prideful glare softens into something almost vulnerable. “Don’t push your luck… but keep going.”

He secretly loves the way you take control, your strength and confidence drawing out a side of him he’s never shown anyone else.

Afterward, he grumbles about being “too lenient,” but his actions betray him as he pulls you close and mutters, “Next time, I’m in charge… maybe.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser’s cocky attitude doesn’t falter easily, and when you first suggest taking the lead, he smirks and leans back, arms crossed. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, liebling.”

His confidence wavers the moment you take control, your bold movements and teasing words leaving him breathless. He tries to regain his composure but fails miserably.

Kaiser loves the way you dominate him, your assertiveness making his usual bravado crumble. His gasps and groans become more desperate the longer you keep him on edge.

He’ll try to tease you back, but his words falter as you keep him under your control. The way you smirk at his vulnerability both frustrates and excites him.

Post-intimacy, he chuckles softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “You really know how to leave a man speechless. I might let you take charge more often… if you ask nicely.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is chaos incarnate, and he thrives on unpredictability. When you take the lead, his initial reaction is pure excitement. “Oh, so you’ve got a wild side, huh? Bring it on.”

He’s the most vocal of them all, moaning, growling, and tossing out filthy comments that only spur you on further. “That’s it, babe. Show me what you’ve got.”

Despite his playful resistance, he loves being at your mercy, the way you tease and control him making his mind spin.

Shidou is all about pushing limits, so he encourages you to be as dominant as you want, his cocky grin never fading even as he’s begging for more.

Afterward, he’s sprawled out with a satisfied smirk, panting as he pulls you into his arms. “Damn, you’re good. Next time, let’s see who can outdo who.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Oliver Aiku

Aiku is smooth and confident, used to being the one in control. But when you turn the tables on him, his usual charm slips, replaced by something more raw and vulnerable.

He watches you with wide eyes as you push him down, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh? Didn’t expect this from you… but I like it.”

He’s surprisingly submissive under your dominance, his deep groans and soft murmurs betraying how much he enjoys being led.

Aiku can’t stop complimenting you throughout, his voice husky as he whispers, “You’re incredible, you know that? Keep going.”

He’s left in awe of your confidence and control, his usual suave demeanor replaced with genuine admiration.

Afterward, he’s all smiles, pulling you close and tracing lazy circles on your back. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Guess I’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

© 2025 rinsthighsweat — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[dark-moonlust]

Making snow angels with your vampire mate

Pairing: vampire x f!human reader

Summary: you teach your vampire mate how to make snow angels.

Warnings: no smut, diva vampire, fluff overload, romantic moments, kisses.

Snowflakes fell softly from the sky, blanketing everything in a glittering, layer of white. The mansion behind you was a magnificent and imposing building, decorated by more shining snow. The landscape was peaceful and pretty but all you could see was him. Your mate was a sight amidst the snow, a tall, gorgeous vampire in a long dark coat.

You had brought him out here, eager to teach him the simple delight of making angels in the soft, fluffy snow. Your vampire mate had no idea snow could be pleasant and his attitude as he stood there staring at you, confused, told you he was still not convinced. You tightened your scarf over your neck, the cold air biting at your flesh. Unlike him, who was only wearing a light shirt and jeans, you were wrapped up like a burrito, with layers upon layers of clothing.

“You can't tell me you've lived for hundreds of years without making a snow angel! Now watch me, love!”

And with that, you flopped backward onto the fluffy snow with no hesitation. He widened his eyes at your fall but when the sound of your laughter bubbled up, he relaxed. He watched as you spread your arms and legs wide, moving them up and down through the snow, your melodic laughter ringing out in the quiet air.

“That’s it?” he asked, standing there, proud and supremely comfortable despite the biting cold. “It’s looks… undignified.”

You chortled. “Get down here, you diva. What’s the matter—afraid of a little snow?”

“Afraid?" He looked at his brand-new shirt as if debating whether he was truly willing to risk it for this. "Hardly."

"Don't make me tackle you down here myself," you joked, smiling up at him as you continued to move your arms, deliberately throwing small sprays of snow in his correction.

“You are a little devil,” he laughed before ultimately lowering himself next to you, lying flat on his back in the snow. He gave you a soft glance before moving his arms and legs, his movements rigid and extremely precise.

"Not like this!" you said, poking him with your boot. "Just relax… go with the flow and have fun!"

A low huff and he let go, his movements becoming looser and soon he was laughing alongside you, the two of you flailing around in the snow like children. His crimson eyes danced with liveliness, his sharp, chiseled face softened by a pure joyful smile that you rarely saw.

"See? I told you it’s fun!" you said when your snow angel was formed on the ground.

He glanced at you, grinning. “Never thought I’d have such fun making a snow angel. Do you know any more snow games?”

"Games hmm..." your hand leapt out, seizing a handful of snow and you flung it at him, flakes landing right on his face, dusting his perfect hair. “Gotcha!” you called out, scrambling on your feet and leaping away, seeking shelter.

“Oh, you're asking for it now," he said, taking a handful of snow and flinging it back at you— supremely gently. He had so much more strength than you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“What was that fart of a move?” you found yourself laughing harder than you had in years.

“Can’t risk hurting you, babe!”

“You’re too much of a gentleman! And, I’m going to take advantage of it.”

You flung a couple more snowballs at him, but he dodged them all with ease, his motions smooth and fast. Just as you were going to aim again, he moved in a single, lethal motion, closing the gap between you. He held you in his arms, your chest pressed tightly against his own. A soft smile came across your lips and without thinking, you slipped your hands around his large shoulders, drawing him closer. His face was so near that you could see every beautiful curve of his jaw, every flawless line of his skin, every detail in his eyes.

“You’re my precious mate,” he said. “My warm sunshine in my heart.”

Head tilting, he claimed your mouth, his lips icy at first but warming with each caress, with each wet brush. You moaned, your fingers running through his smooth, black hair. You parted your lips, reveled in the touch of his tongue which danced with yours with a hunger that left you breathless. The kiss deepened, it was as if he was tasting you and taking your very soul.

Snow fell around you, glistening in the moonlight, but you didn’t care.

The kiss was alive and only when you were out of breath did you draw back.

"You have no idea how happy you make me," he murmured as he pressed tiny kisses on your cheek. “Giving me reasons to smile when I had none.”

"And you have no idea how loved you make me feel," you answered.

The world faded away when he kissed you again, his lips moving thoroughly, his tongue thrusting deep. The snow, the stars, the mansion—they all faded from your mind, leaving only his touch, his kisses, his love.

Did you enjoy?! Let me know what you think, loves! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[crabussy]

I was so, SO nervous to post this. the whole time while I was drawing I had imaginary arguments running through my mind, I was constantly thinking of ways to defend myself, to prove my experiences, all while also thinking of all the "what ifs?" what if people begin to doubt us when they see what we all look like? neon hair? literal robots? nobody will take us seriously after this. but oh my god. my anxiety doesn't know shit about the people around me. everyone has been so kind, so uplifting, I've had people go out of their way to tell me they're proud of me for being brave! or they know it's scary but it made them feel more confident about sharing their own experiences! I just want to say thank you. I've had some pretty awful experiences with publicly being part of a system in the past, ranging from close friends cutting contact because they were uncomfortable with how I exist, to people sending downright cruel messages to some of the others implying that they don't even exist. it means a lot to me that people care enough to calm my nerves even when we barely know each other. just! thanks [,: it means more than you know.

FINALLY drew every single person in the system after half a decade of knowing I have osdd. IT ONLY TOOK 5 YEARS.....

(please don't refer to how we look as character designs!! thanks!)

notes! - I've been evaluated by multiple professionals and they've all gone ya you have guys in there. good luck man - I can remember experiencing pretty damning symptoms since I was like. a wee lad. - I'm guy number 2. hi! waving!!! - sunny and moon don't really have a concrete age but can be considered adults - there are 10 girls, 7 guys, and 3 people who aren't either - some of these guys formed based on some childhood friends I had - there are 6 fictives overall. most of them consider themselves their own people and don't identify much with their source material - the most frequent fronters are robin, sunny, phoebe and francis - if you have any questions please feel free to ask! if anyone says anything nasty I won't respond. I love pressing the block button

[vacz]

SOME HUNTER AU DOODLES! And this time WITH FULL COLOR YEIIII!!!!

I realized how most of my drawings don't have colors on it so I decide this time to paint some of the concepts, mostly of how Woodsman Wirt finds his new victims (which is the main point of the character--)

Now, how does he chase down people with a axe when he is carrying a huge bunch of breaches on his back? He just threw all that away and then came back to grab them all on the floor (They are already cut so...). When Wirt appears it is like playing the Russian Roulette, you don't know what to expect from him, BUT there is a way to tell: If he is the one to get closer first then you can be sure this guy is about to kill you. Wirt doesn't usually search specifically for victims... unless he needs more ellewood, in that case there is no way to convince him to not do it so you better pray you are faster than him.

And about the other doodles, some are like: how he wants to hold on himself on this "good boy" etiquette the Beast puts on him, you know, looking for aprobation to know if he is doing something 'right' and to be wanted despise his gruesome actions. And the other is Wirt being the beast's pet, and how much Wirt needs to feel affection, but since he can even make friends with other people, the person he has left is The Beast. The Beast's skin is literally wood, cold, with a bunch of holes on it, but Wirt would accept anything as long as it holds him tightly and affectionally

And finally the little comic is of @wirtpilgrim 's headcanon about Hunter Wirt having a small beard- I went with the whole 'being hairy' later. The reason why I liked it is because it actually makes sense, he doesn't really grow older and is basically in his eternal 17-18 limbo state but his hair DOES feel time, so if his hair did grow as much in his head... why wouldn't in the rest of his body?

Look, I know it's kinda weird I also made Wirt jacked in this AU but if you let me explain--

Okay! I hope you guys enjoy it! ^^#

[leo-artista]

In the Stan & Lucy au, how long does Lucy stay with Stan?

Does the portal incident still happen and Stan still had to fake his death while “Stanley” in his will said to give custody of Lucy to his brother “Stanford”?

Would Lucy help Stan with the shack?

Or does the Portal incident not happen?

What’s Lucy’s opinions on boats and fishing?

Hehehehe I can imagine a scene where it’s raining and Lucy and Stan are having a bad day, but Stan takes her out to get some hot chocolate, even though between the two of them, they don’t have money. He ruffles her hair as they sit in the car.

Before Lucy decides to stay with Stan he actually offers to help her get back home or take her somewhere she would be safe in, like an orphanage or something. But Lucy says that her parents would just throw her out again, and that she doesn't want to stay in an orphanage just so she'll get kicked out when she turns 18. So, seeing she won't budge, he offers to take care of her for as long as she'll allow. Lucy accepts thinking that she'll probably stay with him for a few weeks at most, but eventually she decides to stick around

That would actually be pretty funny- imagine coming home after 30 years to find out you are legally the father of someone you don't even know lmao

Yeah she would! I like to think she'd help with creating attractions for the shack since she enjoys making art

Well, idk how her presence would change the outcome of the portal incident other than make Stanford baffled that his brother has a kid. But the first thing she'd do when they meet is kick him for pointing a crossbow at Stan's head (not a real good first impression). Afterwards, well, who knows

Lucy isn't all that interested in fishing, but she does like boats. And if Stan asked her to fish with him she'd say yes even if she thinks it's boring

That's adorable and yes he would absolutely do that!! Think I might draw this later cause I love this idea

[stellamarielu]

I know we all know how good Declan is in bed. How he caters to his partner’s needs first - how confident he is about it.

But I feel like his first time post Maude would be different. His confidence knocked down a bit. Idk. But just a possible fix/drabble thot 😬

THIS!!

I received a similar request about a month ago and I started writing a fic for it and never finished. [whomp whomp] so anon from december who asked for fluffy declan realizing sex can be about more than just pleasuring his partner, please take this little drabble as my formal apology.

he would be nervous and a little intimidated the first time he had you naked in his bed. he was doing everything in his power to remain composed and in control all evening, but now with you all spread out on his sheets, he felt tense and a little unsure of himself. christ-sake, he had been with the same woman for over twenty years, not to mention that woman had an affair. declan often wondered if it was more than just his work habits that caused his wife to stray from their marriage bed. he was so sure that she was always satisfied seeing as though every sexual encounter started with him between her legs, but now he was in his head wondering if maybe he wasn't as good as he thought he was. what if he wasn't good enough for you. fuck- what if he can't get you off? what if you think he's bad in bed? what if he does something you don't like? what if he doesn't compare to the other- much younger men you've slept with?

he couldn’t seem to stop the thoughts tumbling around in his brain. it must’ve been apparent because you sat up in front of him placing a gentle hand on his chest only to be met with the alarming rush of his heartbeat.

“is everything okay?”

“yeah, yeah.” he’s nodding and you’re not sure if he’s trying to convince you or himself that everything is fine.

“it’s just- i’m feeling a little nervous.” his voice is quiet underneath his breath.

you’ve never heard him sound so shy, it made you want to wrap him in a reassuring hug. the two of you were fully undressed in his bedroom, the situation already vulnerable enough without his worried confession.

“i’m not really used to this.” he’s motioning between the two of you.

“you know, sleeping with someone who isn’t my wife.” as soon as the words leave his mouth he wants to kick himself. what a way to start out– talking about his wife, or ex-wife, or whatever she was to him now.

“it must be strange.” your reply is soft, but still drawing him from his thoughts.

you don’t want him to be anxious, there was nothing to worry about. not with you.

so you take it upon yourself to spur his confidence.

“you know, i think about this a lot declan?”

“i daydream about what it would be like to be touched by you.”

the hand that's resting on his chest begins to brush over tufts of chest hair as it moves slowly, exploring his skin.

"what it would be like to touch you."

your voice is clear and clean but the words coming out of your mouth are so dirty. you have declan's complete attention now, his eyes are trained on you and his heart is still racing underneath your fingertips, only this time for an entirely different reason.

"but we don't have to-" you can't even finish your sentence before you're being interrupted.

"I want to." declan is rushing out his words of consent, his eyes searching yours.

"Good." your voice drops to something far more sultry as you sit up on your knees, using the hand at declan's chest to usher him backwards until he's the one laying on the sheets.

"Maybe I can help you relax a little bit."

you're kissing his neck, each groan that leaves his mouth cheering you on further as your lips descend down his body.

[demonicnarwhale]

not the best with clothes and such but I wanted to try figure out some fits these guys would wear. And also messing around with hair styles, I had the head shots done but I didn't get to everyone so I'll share Die's. (he's from the middle of last year...)

i think i'll mess around some more with his hair styles. While short hair is so silly looking, I have a habit of making same length hair styles look too similar, and with the majority of these mfs having short hair. Augh... (same with clothes, it's very obvious im a sucker for long sleeves or just clothes that cover up, i weep cuz there's no snow here... i cannot dress for winter...) Also in my defense, I don't know jack shit bout Harry Potter, I just showed this to a friend who went "Eel I know you have an affinity for the elderly, look up Argus Filch he has similar hair to this guy" and i ascended

Some doodles!!!!:

god you're the best Ms. Paint <3

trying out some designs for Trace on the left, then resorted back to short hair on the right. + a lil comic of idea of HK begging Trace to wear the ridiculous fish tie she got him and Fin

i got lazy with Doze oopsies

PI and HK thought that sweater jacket thing would match Die, who very much thinks otherwise teehee

Of course I hit you all with the Snowbar, how could i NOT

Tryna figure out clothes but wahoo PM and Slick, both got opposite arms prosthetics (reference or nod to when they put the ring on yadda yadda) PM only has one on her left starting from her elbow, Slick er ok like Jack Noir does but fuckin yadda yadda (that whole hoo-ha doesn't matter in this AU) is on the right but from the shoulder (as he also has that robot lookin arm thing for a while in the comics and such cool). I know in their prototyped forms they both lose the same side arm but eaughhhhhh shhh

Also, trying to figure out if I like PM (and PI) having a long looking face instead of a circle. The idea is to try have everyone's head shape somewhat look like their sprites and all that. Or at least try to but oog much to think about.

not related to this au but i just had to draw these buckos in some old Japanese clothes (Edo Era I think) just for fun!!!

I swear I'm working on a lil introduction / portraits for everyone with some basic information (aka THEIR NAMES!??!? oog yes much to plan? but we shall see)

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Fifteen)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Fifteen: Y/N is getting by with minimal contact with Cillian whilst he continues to work away, but a rare chance to see him on a Zoom call brightens her mood. When she gets a call the same evening from his sister, she prepares herself for a Corkonian takeover at the end of the following week. His sister says something, and she finds herself taken aback by Cillian's reaction. [Family life/Fluff/Angst] (I've run out of grey haired GIFs that apply so take this one!)

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meadowshelby @strangeions @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

Yoke - thing (keep getting asked about that one)

Gatting - heavy drinking/drinking

Leaba - Irish word for bed

Síle is pronounced like Shee-lah

.......

You went three days with just a few texts between you and Cillian once he'd landed back in England. He had night filming, interviews, and a desperate need for sleep to occupy him. But on the evening of the fourth day, sitting in your office, it surprises you to receive a Zoom invite a few moments after you log out of your accounts for work. You can barely contain the buzz of excitement as you connect and wait to see his face. His face fills your screen and it's so good to see him. His beanie is pulled over his hair, and he's got a coat over his clothes that tells you he's either coming in or going out.

“Hello,” you beam. “It's really good to see your face.”

He smiles brightly back at you, “Ah fuck - it's good to see you, too.”

“Are you coming in or going out?” You ask, and you chuckle when he looks down at himself then back up at you.

“Heading out,” he says. “Dinner with Packy, Sophie and Matt.” He elaborates. “But I wanted to see you a wee bit before I go.”

“You had a busy day?” You ask. He'd text you around five am, having finished a night of filming again, and let you know he was back to filming in the daytime tomorrow. You didn't know, though, I'd he'd fallen into bed after that or if he had a string of things to occupy him and planned on sleeping tonight instead.

He shakes his head, “Not overly. I was asleep til gone eleven,” he grins, “Then I sat on my arse for a while but it was in front of this yoke for interviews so I suppose I was working.” He chuckles. “I had the glasses on there for a bit, my eyes are wrecked from looking at this all afternoon. I don't know how you cope with it for work.” He shakes his head. “Can't wait to crawl back into me leaba later.”

“You'd live in your bed if we let you.” You laugh lightly, and he grins back at you. “Still coming back home for a few days after next week?” You ask him hopefully.

“Of course,” he nods earnestly. “Missing you farting in the bed,” raises his eyebrows and the giggle he erupts into as he slags you leaves you unable to defend yourself even in false annoyance.

“You're a prick,” you smirk, shaking your head. “But I miss you. Not having you moaning at me to turn the brain-rot TV off is actually getting boring.” He laughs lightly, and you watch his tongue draw back and begin flicking against his bottom teeth. “Did you talk to the boys?”

He nods his head, “Yeah, just off the phone there actually.” He says with a bright expression. “They're grand by all accounts.” His head whips around to the door behind him suddenly and you can hear the faint sound of it knocking. He gets up from the seat he's in. You watch the screen as he walks towards the door of his hotel room and drags it open enough to see out. “Howeya…no, you're fine, come in. Just talking to Y/N, there.” His voice is quieter with the distance from the laptop but you can hear him well enough. You watch him step aside from the door and pull it further open, and there's a little anxiety in the pit of your stomach in anticipation of whomever is on the other side of it. You relax almost instantly when it's Packy who walks into view.

With a cheeky grin, he approaches the laptop and all but shoves his face into the camera. “Well, Y/N, what's the craic?” He laughs, and you can hear Cillian's light giggle behind him.

“Hiya,” you smile brightly back. “You lot out on the piss tonight then?”

Packy purses his lips and shakes his head comically, “God no, no getting on it tonight.” He insists as he steps back from the laptop. You can see Cillian loitering with a little awkwardness, like he's a little on edge now that somebody is in his space, but beyond his hand being close to his mouth, he gives no other indication of unease. “Well, I suppose we could?” He looks to Cillian and you watch Cillian's brows rise up, “Well Sophie's fella is driving, there's no use everyone being a pioneer for the night.” He laughs and Cillian shakes his head with a bright smile.

“You'll have to take his shoes off for him if that's the case, he's not so good with them after a few.” You speak up, and while Cillian makes a face and laughs lightly Packy doesn't seem to have heard you at all. “And take him to the toilet before you leave a bar, yeah? I'd rather not be WhatsApp’d another string of images of him peeing in the street.”

Packy laughs - evidentially he'd heard you that time and of the event in question - and points at Cillian who shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Don't worry, Y/N, if he gets it out in the street we'll give him a slap.”

Cillian frowns and bends at the waist, and stares straight into the camera. “You can fuck off,” he says with raised eyebrows, but all you can do is laugh. “No gatting tonight!” He promised, “Here, we’re away. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” He says with a genuine and bright smile. “Go on and watch your shite on TV.”

You laugh and wave into the camera. “Have a good night. Love you.” You say with a soft smile.

“Love you too.” He says with a serious expression. He gives a thumbs up and then the call ends.

You hadn't expected a call, so you try to keep the nice surprise of it as a pleasant thing and not dwell on the fact that he was now gone again. You decide to do as he suggested - bullshit TV. And maybe a takeaway.

You make your way down the two flights of stairs and into the kitchen. Immediately, you feel how cold it is and adjust the thermostat on the wall beside the sofa. You need to remember to change it back, or Cillian will be moaning about the cost to heat the place, and that it's a sauna in the bedroom. Back in the kitchen, you leave your phone on the island and begin searching through the kitchen drawers for a takeaway menu. You're certain there are Chinese and Indian takeaway menus knocking about, but by your third unsuccessful drawer, you're beginning to assume that Cillian has thrown them out on one of his mad moments of domestic service. About to surrender, you check in the fourth drawer, strewn with poorly organised cooking utensils, and ‘a-ha!’ to yourself mentally as you find the menus pinned beneath the ladle and wooden spoon. You shut the door with your bum as you turn around, hands occupied with scouring through the menus. Definitely Chinese over Indian, and definitely egg fried rice over Cillian's preferred mushroom rice. The decision of what to stuff yourself with along with the rice, though, is a harder one. Chicken balls and BBQ sauce, or a spice bag, or Cantonese sweet and sour chicken? You could get it all, and take a small amount from everything, and have the leftovers tomorrow, of course, but you weren't sure you were willing to spend fifty euro on a Chinese takeaway for just yourself.

You lean against the island as you look over the menu, and glance across when your phone begins buzzing and singing out ‘San Diego Song’ as it rings. You abandon your hunger for a moment and lean across awkwardly. You frown as “Síle” flashes on the screen. Answering the call, and pushing it onto speakerphone, you stand over the handset curiously. “Hi, Síle,” you say softly. “Everything okay?” You're a little taken aback that she's calling you at all, and even more so as his family knows he's in England right now. Why not just call her brother?

“Hiya, Y/N,” Síle says, bright and cheerful. “Sorry bothering you in the evening, but I know Cill is away. I wanted to ask, would it be okay if Griff and I stayed up with you towards the end of next week? We've an event in Dublin, and it'd be nice to see you. And I know Cill should be back home there at the end of the week, I think anyway, I'm sure he said….”

You remind yourself what day you're on now. “Friday,” you say. “He’ll be back on the Friday. In the afternoon, I think.”

“I'll ring him, and I'll talk it over, but you're home there now, so.” You hear her laugh.

“I mean, you're so welcome, you know that. And the boys will be up on the Sunday, too. Bet they'd be happy seeing you both. As long as you can stick your brother being a pain in the arse, and the sofabed up in the office. Though if the boys aren't staying then I'm sure you can use one of their rooms.” You say with a smile.

“Ah, you know us by now, Y/N, wherever we hang out hats.” She laughs again. “You're a star, Y/N, thanks a million.” she says with a quiet laugh. “And you're alright yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Working, and about to get a Chinese with as much chicken as I can stomach in Cillian's absence.” You laugh, and you hear her laugh too. “And you two?”

“Ah, yeah, sure we're grand. Same as yourself, working away and all.” She says, still bright and cheerful.

“That's good,” you smile.

“So if we say Friday, yeah? You're sure that's okay, now?” She checks.

You answer immediately in the affirmative. “Yeah, absolutely. Friday is fine. As I said, he's home Friday. And you'll stay for the weekend?”

“If youse don't mind - we've the thing in Dublin on Saturday daytime but it'd be good to be visiting for a few days, and to see Aran and Malachy.” Síle says cheerfully.

“It’ll be great to see you. But you might change your mind on Friday when Cillian gets home. He's not been getting a lot of sleep, and you'll find him going through you for a shortcut.” you laugh a little.

“Ah, sure hasn't he always been the same, girl!?” She laughs again. “Come here, Y/N, I'll let you get on with your Chinese takeaway. I'll talk to you both before, anyway, but otherwise I'll see you soon.”

“See you soon, Síle.” You say, and hit the cancel button on the phone. You do wonder, now, if Cillian should have been involved in the decision but you're fairly sure he wouldn't tell his own sister to get a hotel! Still, you open your texts and send a message across to Cillian, letting him know Síle’s request and that you have agreed to it.

“Dinner good? Síle rang me - she and Griff want to stay here next Friday & over the weekend for something they have in Dublin. I said no problem. I know you're back on Friday too but we can have a quiet evening anyway. Maybe call her? Love you x.”

You return to your menu, having mentally made made your choices whilst on the phone, and then scour through the app on your phone to find the Chinese that actually corresponds to the menu. Finding the ChowTown restaurant on Church Road, you put through your order and grimace at the delivery charge before finalising. Just as you go to set your phone down, Cillian's text reply comes through. You slide down the notification bar and click to open it.

“She texted me that she'd tried to ring. Didn't get any call. No bother anyway. We can get dinner or something. Can throw them in Aran's room, not like he's using it. The restaurant is loud, I want to go to bed ha ha. Love you.”

You smirk as you swipe away the message, and push your phone into the pocket of your hoodie. You slink over to the sofa and drop down, immediately flicking the TV onto Amazon Prime and began to search for a film you know Cillian would turn his nose up to, but that you really wanted to see. The only benefit you found to the little bastard being gone was that you could indulge yourself in things he didn't like - or didn't approve of - but even that didn't make his absence worth it.

You booked the Friday off as annual leave and spent the day ensuring you had the house in order - not that either of you were particularly untidy - and that all three of the available beds had clean sheets in case there was a case of musical beds once Síle and Griff arrived. You finished a quick grocery shop - wine, snacks, fresh fruit and veg, and bottled water - and finished your stint as Cinderella by sweeping and mopping the floor that covered the whole of the open plan space downstairs. Satisfied, as you stand in your gleaming kitchen, you light the wood wick candle that had been gifted to you at some point over the last twelve months and left it in the centre of the island. You love the crackle of the wooden wick, and it doesn't take long for its vanilla and coffee bean scent to start filtering around the space. It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and you're finally satisfied that you now look like you live in an untouched show home and that it smells so clinically clean that nobody will ever guess that you're human and eat or drink anything at all.

You fill the kettle with water and set it on to boil. Despite the offer on more than one occasion to collect him at the airport, Cillian had declined as he wanted to do something before coming home so all you were doing now was waiting - which you hate. You place the coffee press beside the kettle and spoon in the ground coffee, then stand awkwardly as you glance around you. Why did waiting for something always make you feel like you could do anything else? But you were excited to see him, and you were both excited and nervous to see his sister and husband, too. You were looking forward to one of your favourite phenomenons, too - Cillian's accent getting stronger in the presence of someone else from Cork!

As the kettle comes to a boil and silences, you frown. You're sure you heard the crackling of the gravel outside, but it could just be the candle crackling. Still, your stomach flutters and you walk towards the front door to peer out of the glass in the room if the door and check. Sure enough, you can see a car and a lone figure, though the mottled glass that doesn't allow a clear view out, but you'd know that figure anywhere. It does help that he's lugging a wheeled bag awkwardly along the gravel as the car reverses away. You unlock the front door and pull it open, smiling brightly as Cillian looks up at you. The beanie is ever present, his glasses are perched on his nose, and the look of exhaustion mixed with a smile across his face feels like home to behold.

“You're back,” you say, smiling brightly.

His smile widens a little as he reaches the door, “I'm back.” He says, letting go of the bag on the doorstep. He wraps his arms around you immediately and you snake your arms around his back. His kiss is soft and loving, and he tastes like coffee and smells like himself. You move to rest your head on his chest, still standing at the door. It's been a long couple of weeks and you've missed the presence of his body in the house. He laughs a little and squeezes you before letting go. “C'mon, let's get in.” He says, and begins trying to pull your arms from him. You let go, smirking, and close the door on the outside once he's in the door. “God, have you disinfected the whole house?” He asks, looking around him, as he releases his bag once again beside the coat hooks.

“I have,” you nod with a smile. “How was the flight?”

He juts his chin up, “Ah, same as always.” He sniffs. “Will we whack on the kettle? I need tea.” He smiles.

“It's just boiled actually. Which tea do you want?” You ask as you turn your back on him, as he takes off his shoes and coat, and make your way to the kitchen.

“Oh, whatever you get,” he says. A moment later, he has his arms around you from behind, his chin on your shoulder, as you pour water from the kettle into a mug with a herbal tea bag inside. “God…” he grumbles against your cheek, “Missed you.”

You smile, “I've missed you too. It's been a long couple of weeks.”

“Síle give a time for today?” He asks, and unwraps his arms from you as you push his mug along the counter for him to pick up. Taking the mug, he yawns tightly and noisily.

You shake your head, and turn to face him. “No, just that she'd be here today.” He nods slowly and yawns a second time. “Did you not sleep last night?” You ask, smirking.

He shakes his head, “I did, but…” he shrugs his shoulders as he yawns a third time. “Fuck sake.” He stretches his eyes wide as his jaw snaps shut. “You didn't hear from the boys this week, did you?” He asks and then sips at his tea.

You shake your head, “No, I mean I did text on Thursday about Sunday and Aran said he'd be coming, I didn't get anything from Malachy. But otherwise, no.” you say. “Why?”

Cillian frowns, “Ah, I was on the phone to Aran on Tuesday, I think, and he was in a bit of a mood. Couldn't get out of him why, but he told me he didn't want to come over on the weekend, that it was pissing him off.” He shakes his head.

“Well, like I said, Thursday’s text said he'd be here. You said he was in a mood, maybe he was just being a shit with his words.” You reason.

Cillian nods, “Yeah, I get that. But, I don't get why, like.” He shrugs.

“School, a fight with his mum, pissed off with his brother, hormones…” you list, smiling at him. “He's a teenage boy, don't take it personally.” he rolls his eyes at you as he sips at his tea again. “I'll throw your bag upstairs. Do you want to get the washing out first? Save bringing it up to bring it down again.”

“Ah leave it, I'll do it there in a minute.” He says, shaking his head. He sets his mug down onto the counter beside him and holds his arms open. “Come here,” he raises his eyebrows. “Didn't get enough there before.” He grins at his own cheesy line. But you oblige, and fold yourself against his chest as his wraps his arms around you tightly. His chin rests on the top of your head, and he breathes deep and contented breaths that soothe you as much as you assume they do him. You're not sure how long you stand there, comfortable and close, but you're disappointed when there's a heavy knock on the front door that signals the end of the intimacy.

You sigh and push yourself up out of his embrace. “That'll be your sister.”

He sticks out his bottom lip, “Fuck,” he raises a single eyebrow. “I was hoping for a quickie before they got here.” You slap your hand against his arm, tutting but smiling, as you walk towards the front door. All you can think now is, Let the Corkonian takeover begin!

Cillian’s shift in brightness surprises you massively as you'd open the door and welcome in his sister and her husband. But that chirpiness only lasts for the time it takes to make dinner and settle around the dining table before he is yawning, and exercising his right to live with a perpetual bitch face. He chats, and isn't rude at all, but you can see as you all ate that he is heading speedily towards switch off mode after three weeks working flat out. He smiles as Griff talks about work, and as Síle explains what they're up to tomorrow in the city, and you reach across the table and tap your fingers gently across the back of his hand.

“Do you want another?” You ask, and nod towards his empty beer bottle before him. When he nods briefly, you take to the empty one as you stand up. “Another drink, guys?” You offer. They're all seemingly enjoying the thrown-together meal, and that's helped to alleviate some of your anxiety about things going well while they're here.

“Another glass of wine would be lovely,” Síle smiles brightly. And you're a little surprised when Griff declines and gestures towards his still half full beer.

You excuse yourself to the kitchen, with Síle’s glass and Cillian's empty bottle, and take a moment to breathe before you replace their drinks. They're lovely - all of his family are, in fact - but you consistently fear doing anything wrong in case their opinions of you turn sour and they begin to see you as you'd always feared they would after the affair. As you close the fridge door and set Cillian's beer onto the island, you hear footsteps around the wall from the dining room and look up. “You okay?” You ask, as Cillian approaches, carrying his knife and fork.

He nods with a soft smile just about pulling his lips, “Knocked them onto the floor,” he rolls his eyes. He walks around to the sink and throws them in and takes a clean set from the drainer beside it. He turns and leans back against the sink. “Y'alright?”

“Yeah,” you nod and smile. “You look done in.” You say, softening your expression sympathetically.

He nods his head, “Think it's because I've stopped, you know, after going for nearly a month.” He smirks. “We’ll roll into bed in a wee while,” he says and raised his eyebrows. “Throw me out the opener, there,” he says as he pushes away from the sink and picks up the beer bottle on the island. You hand it over, and as he pops off the cap, you pour Síle's glass of wine, and you return to the dining room with him just a step or two behind.

“When are you back in England, Cill?” Síle asks as he sits down across from her. She gives you a bright smile as you hand her the refilled wine glass.

“Tuesday,” he says with a nod, then takes a drink from the bottle. “This yoke tomorrow, is it like an exhibition?” He asks. She'd mentioned that they were attending an arts event not too far from the wax museum just off O’Connell Bridge, in a small building that gave nothing away.

“I suppose,” Síle shrugs. “Griff's friend has work that is in it.”

Cillian turns down the corners of his mouth and raises his eyebrows, “Cool,” he smiles.

“And the boys are well?” Griff asks, “We do be interacting there on Facebook with them but you wouldn't be quick getting a reply from them.” He laughs.

Cillian clicks his tongue, “Phones never out of their hands, but sure if they answer a text it's a miracle.” He smirks. “But they're grand. Aran’s got the leavers soon so he's busy, and between the girlfriend, college and that wee job in Eason’s, Malachy does be hard to pin down.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing them on Sunday, Y/N said they'll be here.” Síle says, and places her cutlery down to reach for her glass.

“Yeah, dinner here every week. If I'm home, I do get Aran from school. Malachy stayed here the night before I went back there.” Cillian smiles, “I said to Y/N, wrecks the head that they're growing up.” He smirks, but you can see the nostalgia there.

“I only spoke to Yvonne a few days ago, she was wishing Griff a happy birthday and just chatting on about the boys. Do you get talking to her much, or just the kids?” Síle spoke delicately, without malice or deliberate stirring, but you still find your stomach dropping.

Swallowing his mouthful of beer, Cillian sets the bottle back down and shrugs his shoulders. “The odd bit, but it's usually only if it concerns the boys. Last I spoke to her was before I went away just to give her the dates when I'd be home because I knew the lads wouldn't remember.”

“And it's awkward?” She presses on and you catch Cillian's quick glance in your direction.

“It's grand,” he says and waves his hand. “I didn't know you two were still in touch though.” He says, and you examine the frown on his brow - is he angry, confused, both?

“Don't be reading into that,” Síle says quickly, “It's only to ask about the kids. And you two were together years, Cillian. I know things were difficult before you split up but I can't be a bitch to her entirely; she's raising my nephews.” You find yourself understanding Síle’s stance somewhat. “Are you gone moody now?” She challenges her older brother with a comical expression.

He shakes his head, once again turning down the corners of his mouth. “I'm not, no.” He sighs. His mood has shifted slightly, you can tell, but you're not sure what he's thinking of feeling.

“Cill,” Síle sighs. “I'm not ringing up and inviting her down, that's not what's happening. Birthdays, celebrations, yeah? That's all. And I just ask after the boys.” She explains.

“You can ask me,” he looks at her with a serious expression across his face. “I'm not so fucking far removed from my own kids that I couldn't answer ya.”

“I didn't say you were…” Síle says, and you can see she's taken aback by his snapping. “Cillian, I…” she shrugs her shoulders. “I shouldn't have said anything. I mean the conversations are so infrequent, it's just a touching base sort of thing occasionally…” she ambles for any way to fan out the flames, but you get the sense that everything she says digs her in deeper.

“It's been three years since the divorce, four since we split, and you're only now telling me that the two of ye are taking?!” He sits back in his chair and you feel awkward and anxious. You glance across the table and you can see your feelings echoed in Griff's expression. “I'm their fucking father, you can ask me, for fucks sake, Síle!”

“Cillian…” you reach out your hand as he gets to his feet. You appreciate his upset fully, but you suspect the ferocity of his reaction is rooted in his fatigue. Nobody says a word as he storms away, beer bottle in hand. You exhale heavily and glance first at Griff, then at Síle. “I feel like I warned you,” you say, trying to make light of the atmosphere as it pressed heavily down on the three of you.

You're grateful that she at least gives a grim laugh in response. “Yeah,” she shakes her head. “You did.”

[saetiate]

cora! this event is such a cute idea :’) humbly requesting temperance with rin itoshi please. gn reader is fine!

itoshi rin x reader (gender neutral), wound-tending, fluff wc: 0.5k ❥ valentines event (requests still open!), co-written with @venustrvck a/n: AAAH i feel so nervous u r the first req i'm posting :')) THANK YOU SM for participating friend !!!

There's blood. More blood than he thought, down his face, down the sink. It trickles down the curve of white porcelain and coalesces at the bottom; rivers of blood conjoining into a lake.

There's a knock at the door. "Rin."

He ignores it. Who would want their partner to see them like this? Bleeding out his nose and his cheek. Weak, Sae would say. Lukewarm.

"If you don't open this door," the white lacquered wood separates you, a barrier he's put up on purpose, muffling your voice. "I'm going to break the door down."

Rin snorts. Like that's about to happen. He draws a stinging line down his cheek as he slides an alcohol-soaked cotton across the cut.

"You think I can't do it? Haven't you seen those videos where babies get stuck under cars and the mothers lift the car?"

The door swings open, his long arm catching it at the edge. Rin's hair is in his face, bangs clinging to his forehead with sweat. He's giving you the worst side-eye, bright blue shining in slits from behind his strands under the unforgiving bathroom light. "I'm not your baby."

You step into his space, too close for his comfort, not close enough for his needs. Let yourself into this part of him that he's been trying to hide from you. "You might as well be."

Rin busies himself with his reflection, making every attempt to ignore you, ignore the unfurling shame in his gut, despite your concerned face creeping through his side-view.

"How bad is it?"

Rin doesn't answer. You cup the uncut side of his face with one hand.

"I'm here for you. You can show me."

Warm hands enclose his own as you gingerly grasp the cotton pad; you take it away with gentle fingers. He doesn't turn. He doesn't look at you. Your voice turns into something gentle. "Let me do this for you."

He wants to hide. Wants to run away. That furrowed space between your brows is the last thing he wants to see. He can't do either of those things, so he closes his eyes.

And then all he knows is your warmth, your body pressed against his. There's the sound of shuffling, and a new, cool alcohol-dipped cotton ball is pressed to his cheek. He wants to hiss at the contact, but he bites the inside of his cheek instead. He's shown enough weakness to you today.

"It's okay, Rin." You say it almost knowingly, your hand moves to the back of his neck, bringing him down so you can better reach. "There's nothing wrong with letting someone else take care of you."

You think he mumbles your name.

"It's me, isn't it?" You're so close to him that your nose brushes against his. The cotton pad moves down over the abrasion on his jaw, clearing away the grime and leaving rough, red skin in its wake.

"It's just me, so you can show me if it hurts. No one else has to know."

It's like a cleansing of sorts, his body relaxing against the counter, leaning his face into your hands. A cleansing from the situation, from all the times he wasn't able to say what he needed. Don't you know that there are those who would take without remorse, what you give to him so freely?

This time, when you press against his wound, his hand tightens where it holds your waist.

[wife-of-legolas]

Plumbing in Middle Earth

Just rewatched LOTR, came to the scene when Merry & Pip were washing dishes after the firework incident and started wondering about ME plumbing. So I did some digging- in that particular scene they're washing from a bucket (no tap), however, if you back up to the scene where Bilbo invites Gandalf into the kitchen, you can see fairly clearly a tap by the window! This brings up a whole load of questions & assumptions. By my reasoning, if they have somewhat 'modern' taps, they should have fairly advanced sewer systems and we'd assume toilets, baths with running water, etc. But, there's a whole can of worms that opens. Hobbits seem to have a somewhat typical standard of living across social classes, although some variation (Frodo & Bilbo inheritance, Sam working class), they all seem to have similar living conditions. I'd go so far to assume that the whole shire, and therefore everyone in it, would have advanced plumbing. Side note- the hobbits never having left the shire would also be spending their time in the wilderness without washrooms for the first time. Extra fun.

However, what about humans? Dwarves? Elves?

Humans, in contrast to hobbits, seem to have a clearer divide in living conditions between classes. I think that the lower classes would not have access to running water, and therefore have to draw water from wells.

I don't want to even think about the state of dwarven washrooms, or how on earth they drain them underground, so yeah. I'll leave that up to your imagination. The real kicker is the elves. We don't know a lot about the specifics of their bodily functions (except they're a lot cooler than us ofc), and therefore the question can be asked: do they release bodily waste in the same way as us? If so are there fancy wood-carved elven toilets in, say, Rivendell? And it probably smells like butterflies and rainbows, let's be honest. Also, though I doubt they need them, super nice baths and possibly showers.

Also on this note I could go on a whole tangent about my whole 'elf hair oil is a natural conditioner which is why they always have perfect hair' tangent but thought I'd keep it short & sweet

[thymelessink]