#linen texture closet

[hibernas]

Flat Panel Closet Example of a mid-sized trendy men's light wood floor dressing room design with flat-panel cabinets and light wood cabinets

[payetasoiree]

Dallas Bathroom

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

06 Leather

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Zhongli is a retired racer that now trains novices and enjoys the occasional midnight ride with his beloved Racer/biker Zhongli food: @Donot__reupload @eriimyon @danijaci301

Salty wind rushed around your helmet and tossed the ends of your hair into the air as the two of you sped across the empty overpass. You had come to appreciate the steady hum of the engine, the stability that comes with high speed, and the simple joy of letting go of all your troubles while you rode. Although Zhongli no longer raced, he still found time in his busy schedule to take you out on a midnight ride to the harbor every weekend. He knew how much you loved these rides. It had always been a timeless ritual, an unspoken contract between the two of you.

It was hard to imagine you used to be terrified of motorcycles. The lack of metal barriers and airbags to brace a collision was a vulnerability you never quite got over. However, with your arms tightly wrapped around Zhongli's waist, it felt like his back was the safest place on Teyvat. As long as he was in front of you, nothing could possibly hurt you.

"The moon is full tonight. It's quite the view, wouldn't you say?" He noted as he helped you remove your helmet and get off the bike.

You took a seat beside Zhongli on the bench. It was the same one he always parked beside.

"There's a bit of a breeze." He gathered you close, wrapping an arm around your body.

You let your head rest against Zhongli's shoulder. The scent of his leather jacket brought back old memories.

After years of nail-biting anxiety over possibly losing him to the track, he finally retired and retreated to the sidelines, leaving the limelight for young protégés like Xiao to pursue. Every journey has its final day, he used to say. In all the years you've been with him, you never rushed him. To love someone means to love what they hold dear. Be it towards you or the track, his dedication was steadfast. Just because his name will no longer appear on a scoreboard didn't mean he had cut all ties with that world. It would always be a part of him, as it would continue to be a part of you.

"You know, I barely see you in leather these days." You noticed.

He used to wear the material so often. These days, they had become somewhat exclusive of these late-night rides. Upon retirement, Zhongli seemed to prefer silk, cashmere, fine linens and tailored suits. It wasn't like he had shed his entire closet the moment he stepped down from the track. Your beloved always had an eye for finer things since he never had to stress over affording them. Understandably, his leather also happened to be insanely expensive and of the highest quality make.

In hindsight, they really did seem like attire he only donned when he was anticipating a ride. Perhaps he was just driving more often now. The less he rode, the less he wore them.

"Hm.. That seems to be the case." He noted, a tinge of curiosity in his tone. "Why do you bring it up?"

You ran the pad of your fingers down the front of his jacket. The smooth yet rigid texture of the material and the glinting metal of the zipper evoked a sense of guardedness and inviolability. It was worn to protect against harsh winds and durable enough to withstand wear and tear afterall. You slowly pulled the zipper down, revealing the thin turtleneck that he wore underneath. Zhongli didn't interrupt your little daze, an intrigued pair of amber eyes following your every move. It felt like you were skinning him to get to the softness you knew was inside.

You took in a steady breath, suddenly feeling a little daring. Zhongli leaned into your touch. The warmth of your skin spreading through the fabric of his shirt was almost intoxicating. It didn't help that you had just tugged the bottom of his shirt free and slipped your hand underneath. He quickly wrapped a gloved hand around your wrist, which you realized now was also made of leather.

"Now darling, although I'm flattered that the sight of me in leather arouses you, are you sure you want to proceed with undressing me here?" He whispered into your ear, effectively snapping you out of your lust-induced spell.

"No, of course not!" You quickly let go of his clothes, face burning up in self-consciousness. "I was just wondering if you're dressed warm enough. I don't want you to catch a cold."

"I appreciate your concern, dear." He chuckled. "Perhaps we should head back. Have you taken in enough of the view?"

You flushed even more at his reminder. The view was beautiful, there was no refuting that, but tonight your attention was not going where it was intended. All you wanted to do was get home and get to the bottom of this newfound fixation of yours.

Zhongli placed the helmet back over your head, covering your blushing face. The entire ride home, it was like a switch had been flipped on in you. Your senses were in disarray and your mind was in the gutter. All you could do was hold on. Perhaps he could feel your hands clutching fistfulls of his jacket. At the red, he reached down and slid a gloved hand over your thigh, causing you to squirm in your seat. The wind was doing nothing to cool down your heated thoughts.

As soon as the door swung open, your arms were around Zhongli's neck and your lips were pressed against his. He dealt with the task of closing and locking the front door while you busied yourself with his zipper.

The leather jacket he wore was black with a dull shine, subtle and provocative at the same time. Your fingers glided over the velvety material. When you gripped it tightly, there was a satisfying thickness to it. It was cool to the touch but warmed up nicely when you held it long enough. You couldn't seem to get enough of it. Neither could you make up your mind on whether you wanted to keep it on him or rip it off.

The two of you didn't even manage to make it to the bedroom. Your lips trailed wet kisses against his neck and his gloved hands slipped underneath your skirt. The added friction of the leather caused you to writhe against his palm as he touched you through the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Dear..." He removed his hand, glove covered in your slick. "What on Teyvat's gotten into you?"

Zhongli guided you into his lap as he took a seat. Your eyes rose up to meet Zhongli's as he cupped your face in his palms. Ever the attentive lover, he could tell that there was something off about you tonight. It had all seemingly started with that harmless question about his attire.

"I think I might have a thing for leather." You managed in a single breath.

"Well, that is quite the revelation, isn't it?" He chuckled, delighted by what he was hearing. "I will certainly keep that in mind for the future."

"The future?"

He nodded in all seriousness. "Now that I know such materials excite you perhaps I can incorporate a few more pieces into my wardrobe for your viewing pleasure."

You playfully smacked him across the chest. "Yeah, definitely get some harnesses and some leather briefs while you're at it."

He pulled you in for another drawn out kiss, leaving you lightheaded and panting.

"Perhaps you could pick them out for me." He planted a kiss on the rim of your ear.

You giggled, trying to avoid the ticklish sensations while his lips chased after your earlobe.

"Don't... mind if I... do..." Your words dissolved as soon as they left your lips.

"Do you want me to remove them?" He asked you before tugging on his gloves.

"No, keep them on. I like the feel of them."

"Very well."

"Take the shirt off though." You ordered.

Zhongli shrugged off the jacket, then removed the turtleneck underneath.

"Put it back on." You handed him back the leather jacket.

He chuckled, taking it from your hand. "You really are insisting on this."

"Of course. I know what I want."

You leaned into him, running your hands over his chest. The luxurious silk lining of the jacket brushed against the back of your hand as you ventured downwards.

"So sure of yourself. I've always admired that aspect about you." He praised.

You felt his gaze on your face as your fingers diligently worked his belt and pants open. A shallow breath left Zhongli's lips when you finally freed his bulge from the confines of his attire.

Zhongli helped you out of your blouse, but left your skirt on since it did nothing to hinder him. As soon as he got rid of your undergarments, you pressed your body flush into his. You buried your face in the nape of his neck as you lowered yourself onto his cock. The heat from your body caused the leather of his jacket to cling to your skin.

A soft groan escaped Zhongli as he felt you begin to rock yourself against him, your hips rolling into a steady rhythm.

"Oh... my sweet..." He sighed, hands falling against your waist. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather I take this off? It seems to be causing you some discomfort."

The uneven teeth of the zipper grated against your sensitive skin despite the contrasting softness of the leather. You closed your eyes, focusing on the speed of your movements.

"I'm fine..." You answered breathlessly, trying your best to ride him at a steady pace.

"You fit me like a glove, darling." He groaned with pleasure. "So warm and tight."

"Am I going fast enough?"

"You're doing great." He said as he guided your hands over his shoulders.

Zhongli's voice was steady and encouraging, almost like the first time he taught you to ride a motorcycle. With the way you were straddling him, hands clutching his shoulders like a pair of handlebars, you couldn't help but see the similarity. You wondered if he realized it yet. The thought stuck a goofy smile over your lips, but when he asked, you refused to elaborate.

You faintly remembered falling asleep with that jacket of his clutched to your chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you. The leathery smell intertwined with him, resulting in a warm and earthy scent. Your lips curled as your dreams revisited your memories. The first time you saw him, the moment you met him, your first date, your first kiss, the night he took you home, the countless times you rode with him, that scent had always been present. Naturally, if it went missing, your body would crave it.

[arminsbf]

My Own Summer

pairing: bsf!armin arlert x m!reader

summary: staying at armin's lake house over the summer has been nice, but tonight, neither of you can sleep. maybe you can help each other out?

cw: smut 18+, oral (armin receiving), masturbation (reader), NO penetration, porn with a little bit of plot, no use of y/n, a lot of awkwardness, pining/yearning, reader is anxious/overthinks some things, armin has glasses, college au i guess, armin says he gets off to reader all the time

word count: 5.4k

title: “my own summer (shove it)” by deftones

a/n: finally done… i procrastinated a lot working on this 😭 was supposed to be done last week but. here we are. this is my first fic i’ve ever written so give me some grace… i’m terrified to post this!!!!!

tags: @shepnicolo

You can’t sleep. You squirm on the couch, unable to get comfortable. It’s too hot under the blanket. Makes sense, it’s the middle of summer. It's also too cold without them… because the AC is blasting. The moonlight shines in from the skylight and irritates you further. You press your face into your pillow, trying to hide from your awareness, but now it’s too dark. It messes with your vestibular system, for some reason, and now you’re all dizzy. You sit up.

This living room is nice. The gibbous moon helps you to see, as you squint your eyes to look out the patio door. You can kind of see the lake from here. But it’s hard to make it out in the darkness. Really, this whole house is nice. Armin’s grandparents must be rich rich. But this couch isn’t really made for sleeping on.

The beds weren’t, either. Clearly, Armin’s grandparents don’t spend any of their time here. The beds were usable — twin-sized mattresses and rickety wood frames. But, you doubt either of you could even fit on those beds if you lied straight. And on top, there were those faded quilts that must’ve been a century old. Usable. But not quite fit for the sweltering heat.

So, you and Armin opted for the sectional couch in the living room. It’s big enough to fit the both of you — one on each side — and the pillows from the bedroom and the few blankets from the linen closet worked well enough. The big skylight is pretty, you can see all the stars in the sky, and the patio is nice. The fabric of the couch doesn’t complement sunburn, though.

Armin knows this better than you do. Forgetting to put sunscreen on his face just once got him this stupid sunburn. It’s not debilitating, and the aloe vera helped. But the rough texture of the couch against his face, when he moves just a bit too low on his pillow, reminds him that sunscreen is very important. Besides, he can hear you shifting around, and it’s not putting him at ease. He at least wants you to be able to sleep. He sits up and sees that you’ve already done the same.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, and you jump, startled. You hadn’t heard him at all. “Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you up?” You reply, and try to make eye contact in the darkness. You can see him pretty clearly, and he’s definitely looking at your face — but he’s also definitely not making eye contact with you. You look to his left and you think you can see his glasses on the end table. Of course, why would he be wearing them to bed?

“No, no, it’s fine.” You watch him try to rub his face, and then he flinches. “Sunburn.” He points at his face as if you didn’t already know. He shakes his head. “I’m tired,” he breathes. “Me too,” you nod, laughing to yourself at his dysfunctional state. You yawn, and stretch, but immediately regret moving your arms away from your body. The AC is definitely too high. You shiver slightly. “It’s cold as hell,” you mumble, and he looks around, searching for the thermostat. He struggles to see much of anything in the darkness. Been nearsighted his whole life.

“It’s fine, Min, don’t worry about it. It’s better than outside.” You say, after watching him look around the room for a few moments. He turns back to you and smiles gently, but you can see the goosebumps on his skin. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of sweatpants. You’re wearing about the opposite, an old sleep shirt and cotton boxers. “Sorry that I can’t turn it down some, Grandpa set it up before we came. He said that it was really finicky and told me not to mess with it at all.” He mumbles, shifting slightly. “I’m sure that we could just turn it down, but… he seemed pretty serious about it.” He adds. You barely register what he’s said, staring at his bare skin and the way his chest rises and falls subtly as he breathes.

You’re glad he’s not wearing his glasses. You look back into his eyes and it doesn’t seem like he noticed your staring. God, he looks so good — his hair is messy from sleep, and his blue eyes reflect the moonlight like diamonds. You watch him shiver, and then he shifts again. He seems nervous. “It’s okay, not your fault. I wouldn’t wanna do anything if he said not to.” You respond, a bit late. He nods. You’re not sure if he’s really paying attention to what you’ve said either.

Armin thinks back to a night a few months ago, after one of Connie’s parties. You had told Armin that you didn’t feel like being by yourself, and he offered to let you stay the night. Originally, you were going to sleep on the couch, but after a few restless hours, you wordlessly crawled into Armin’s bed. He was going to ask what you were doing — not that he minded at all, (secretly, he was a mess, you were curled up against him in his bed!) — but you really did look tired. Like you needed the sleep. Like you couldn’t sleep without him. So, he didn’t say anything. Just a few minutes later, he could hear your breathing evening out.

He’s sure that now, the situation would be similar. That if you lie with him, you would be able to sleep. And, it’s cold. He could help keep you warm. That’s all there is to it. He has no other reasons to want to lie with you. He convinces himself of this, that he only wants to sleep with you in his arms because you might appreciate it. That’s all it is. Definitely not because he wants to feel you, your breathing, your heartbeat. Hear your blinking and the quiet noises you make in your sleep. Run his fingers along your arms, your back, your legs. He definitely doesn’t want to do any of that.

“Well, um… I could lie with you, if you wanted. Just because it’s cold — and I know that…” A pause. “…know that you have trouble sleeping by yourself sometimes.” He suggests, and your stomach fills with butterflies. You can’t really read him. He sounds nervous. But, he’s clearly thinking something, and you have no idea what.

He isn’t nervous that you’re going to say no. He knows that you’ll agree with him — he isn’t worried about getting rejected. He’s just worried you’ll get the wrong idea. You’ll think it’s because he wants to get close to you, wants to hold you, wants to kiss your skin and tell you that he loves you. The wrong idea. He’s only offering because he knows it’ll help you sleep. Right?

“I — yeah. Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You murmur a reply, failing miserably to hide your embarrassment. Of course, you want it. That would be the most amazing thing in the world. You just can’t believe he asked. And he was so normal about it, too. Sure, he seemed a little nervous, but he asked about it like it was no big deal. Your face warms just thinking about it — about lying with him, feeling his warmth. Maybe he would run his fingers through your hair.

Or, maybe you’re making it a bigger deal than it actually is. Maybe he just means that he’ll lie next to you and that you’ll face opposite directions. You pray that he doesn’t mean that. You hope he means he’ll hold you close, as close as he can. That he’ll keep you warm and kiss your hair.

He stands and walks towards your section of the couch. You sit there awkwardly, not sure what to do. He lies down, his head now on your pillow. He looks up at you expectantly. You notice how good he looks, his blonde hair splayed out across the pillow like that. Looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes and pouty lips. You blink, trying to refocus.

You realize that you two do not fit on this couch at all. It’s already a bit cramped for one person to sleep, and Armin completely takes up the whole section. You shift, unsure of what to do. You could lie on him, but… that’s probably not what he means. You stare at his chest — a lot more obvious than you think you are — and wonder if you should do it.

He parts his lips to speak, but you make up your mind, and he closes his mouth again. You rest your head on his chest, your arm across his torso. You sling one of your legs over his hips, now mostly lying on top of him. You feel his breath hitch, but he doesn’t say anything. He squirms slightly to get more comfortable, then pulls you a bit closer. It’s now that you understand how much trouble you’re in.

He smells so nice. Like cedar and vanilla. Like he’s been out in the sun. Your stomach flips, thinking about how his bed and his clothes smell like him too. You want to sleep in his bed with him when you get back. Okay, wow. You’re getting ahead of yourself. But he does have his hand on your lower back, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to flatline right now. His skin is so warm, and you can hear his heartbeat — slow and steady. It’s putting you to sleep. You never want to leave here.

But, you will yourself to stay awake. Yeah, you wanna sleep… but there’s no way you could waste this opportunity by falling asleep and having to get up and forget about it in the morning. He has freckles all across his arms and chest, all over his skin. You trace your fingertips over them without even thinking about it. He’s so pretty, and you want to memorize everything about his body. He shivers under your touch and you pull away, realizing what you’re doing. “Sorry,” you mumble, hiding your face in his skin, knowing that he must be looking at you.

“No, it’s — it’s fine,” he breathes. He sounds a lot less confident than he means to. You can feel his breathing speed up, but he keeps his hand on your back. His fingers tighten and grip your shirt slightly. Like he doesn’t want you to leave. Armin stares at the ceiling. He keeps himself from looking at you. Even though he’s the one who suggested this, he knows he might do something he regrets if he looks down at you — sees your head on his chest, your pretty hands, your long legs, beautiful eyes… He shouldn’t look.

The silence stretches on. Armin is almost completely still, like he’s scared to move — scared to disturb you. You squirm on top of him, suddenly wanting to be closer. You’re embarrassed about it, you’re already so close to him, you literally have your head on his chest… and yet, you want to be closer. You feel a familiar warmth in your stomach and you want to run, and scream, you want to go home and get away from this man that has completely captured you.

You shut your eyes tight and try to ignore it. You try to push away the thoughts filling your head, about what he could do to you, how you could make him sound. You think of his hands and his mouth, and his cock, and now you’re really embarrassed — you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat and your breathing pick up, how your face warms… how your thighs shift slightly. He must know.

Unbeknownst to you, Armin has barely noticed your state. He’s too busy thinking about how you feel against him, the warmth of your skin, and the fidgety touch of your hands. He’s trying to ignore his thoughts, too, thoughts about kissing you and making you feel good. He moves his hand, rubbing your back soothingly. He can feel that you’re still awake, and he just wants you to be comfortable and be able to sleep. He hears you whimper quietly and he finally turns his attention back to you, looking away from the ceiling and towards your face.

He says your name softly, seeing your small squirming and labored breath. “You alright?” He asks in a low voice, not wanting to be too loud. He is genuinely concerned, worried that you might be uncomfortable. You sit up, your hand on his chest. You’re basically sitting on his thigh. You part your lips to speak, but you don’t say anything. He blinks up at you, seeing your flushed face and blown pupils.

Even in the low light, you watch his face start to turn red. His eyes trail down your body, slowly, as if trying to make sure he’s not seeing anything. He notices your body language, how your hips shift ever so slightly, and he really can’t believe what he’s seeing. You’re turned on? Why? Did he do something? But, really, he can’t imagine you being turned on by him for any reason. Not even because he has low self-esteem or something, just that… it’s you. He knows you aren’t straight, but, there’s no way that he’s your type.

He thinks this until you look at him with fuck-me eyes, and he starts to reconsider. Seeing you looking at him like that, his self-control flies out the window. You two stay like this for a moment. You sit there, far too nervous to make a move or say anything — you’re already mortified that Armin is seeing you like this.

Until he places a hand on your waist. He reaches up with his right hand and cradles your face in his palm. He says your name again, in a way you’ve never heard him say before. So tender, so sweet, like you’re something to be worshipped. Your stomach flips when he starts to pull you closer — pull you down to him. “C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling your face even closer to his own. You close your eyes at the same time as him and he presses his lips to yours.

You must be dreaming. This can’t be real. Armin is actually kissing you. Your neck hurts slightly from leaning over like this, so you move off from on top of him. You lie on your side, your back against the back of the couch, and he turns onto his side as well. He keeps kissing you, and he moves the hand that was on your face into your hair. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you, running his tongue over your bottom lip. 

You start to open your mouth, wanting more, wanting all of him. But, he suddenly freezes, pulling away. He keeps his hands where they are. His breathing is fast as he stares at you, and you pout, wondering what happened. Did you do something? Were you reading this all wrong? Does he not want you? Is he mad? Your mind spirals as he continues to stare at you, and now you feel sick.

“I — I’m sorry,” he finally says, and he has this look of guilt on his face that makes you want to cry. “I don’t know why I…” He trails off, looking back at your lips again, then quickly back to your eyes. He parts his lips to speak again, and you don’t want to hear it anymore — him apologizing for kissing you. You’ve been wanting this ever since you met him, and he’s apologizing. You might have to kill him.

You kiss him again before he can say anything else. He seems to forget his guilt because he pulls you closer, his leg slotting between yours. You don’t even think about it — grinding your hips lightly against his thigh. You harden embarrassingly fast, and hope he doesn’t notice. You gasp softly from the small, muted pleasure, and he takes the opportunity, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You reciprocate, and move one hand up his neck into his hair, tugging slightly. He moans. You pull away to breathe for a moment, and you’ve never been more mad to be out of breath. “Armin,” you whisper, and he nods, his eyes glazed over. “Mhm,” he responds, pulling you back in.

You can feel him, semi-hard in those stupid gray sweatpants that have been driving you crazy since you got here. You keep kissing him, unhooking an arm from around his neck. You reach down, palming him through his sweatpants. He groans, and you feel him harden under your touch. His hips jerk slightly as you run your fingers up and down the outline of his dick against his thigh. He’s fully hard now and his grip on your waist is almost painful.

Reluctantly, you pull away from the kiss. You dip your head down and press your lips against the warm skin of his neck. He shivers, hand cradling the back of your head. You press open-mouth kisses along the column of his throat, sucking lightly, but careful not to leave any marks. You move lower, to his collarbones, along his shoulder.

He says your name softly, pulling his leg out from between yours. He reaches for the waistband of your boxers — he felt your grinding earlier and knows you’re just as hard as he is. He hooks his fingers under the elastic, but you grab his wrist, lifting your head to look at him.

He looks at you, unsure of what's happening. He doesn’t know what to say — can’t tell how you’re feeling. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing. You, on the other hand, know exactly how you feel, but you struggle to find any words to describe the way you want him.

“I — I wanna suck you off,” you eventually blurt out, giving up on trying to find some more graceful way to say it. Of course, you want him to touch you, but now isn’t the time. You need to make him feel good. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed about since you first saw him. It’s not about you. And, you hope that after this, there’ll be plenty more opportunities for him to help you. Just not now.

“Okay,” he laughs, but you can still hear the same heat in his voice. You untangle your limbs from each other, and he sits up, waiting to see what you want to do. You get up from the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of him. He sits back, his legs spread wide enough for you to have enough room. You reach up to try to tug at his sweatpants, but he stops you. “Wait,” he says, looking like he just remembered something.

He stands from the couch, practically stepping over you. He walks back over to the other section of the couch where he had been previously sleeping — and grabs his glasses from the end table. He walks back over, quickly resituating himself. He puts his glasses back on and looks down at you, motioning for you to continue. “Sorry. Wanna see you,” he says lowly, with a soft smile.

You smile back, meekly, and tug on his sweatpants again. You hook your fingers under the elastic, along with his boxers, and pull them down, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock springs free, hitting his stomach. You’re so ardent that you almost feel sick — you’ve been waiting so long to finally have Armin like this. And he’s here, now, tanned from the sun and hair messy from sleep, his skin bare for you. He’s hard for you.

You spit into your hand, and reach up, wrapping your fingers around him and pumping him lightly — feeling the slight thrum of his pulse under your palm. You smooth your thumb over his reddened tip, smearing a sticky bead of his pre over his slit. He hisses, limbs tightening and then relaxing slightly. You scoot forward a bit, moving your hand up and down loosely. He sighs quietly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

You press your lips tentatively to his tip, making your way down with feather-light kisses. He says your name, almost whiney, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t say anything more, but from the way you can feel him pulsing in your hand, you understand that he’s impatient.

You kitten-lick at the tip before pulling your hand away, running your tongue along the bottom of his shaft, feeling the vein there. He groans softly, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “C’mon,” he says gently. And you thought you were the impatient one.

You bring your hand back, wrapping your fingers around the base. No way you’re fitting all of him. You finally wrap your lips around his tip, sucking lightly, before relaxing your throat, moving down further. He gasps quietly, and you can feel him resist the urge to buck his hips into your mouth.

You reach about as far as you can go without gagging and embarrassing yourself, so you work the rest of him with your hand. You pull your head back up slowly, swirling your tongue around his length. He groans, moving his hand to the top of your head. He slides his fingers into your hair gently, massaging your scalp lightly.

You continue this, bobbing your head up and down, and he whines, his head slumping back against the couch. His hips jerk slightly and he pushes himself further into your mouth. You force down the gag that builds in the back of your throat. “Sorry, I — fuck,” he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair slightly. He’s sure you’re trying to suck the life out of him. “You look so good.” He breathes, another moan falling from his lips. “Feels amazing,” he adds, looking down at you with bleary eyes.

You keep going, hollowing your cheeks, determined to make him feel even better. God, he makes the prettiest noises. With another moan from Armin, louder than you thought he would be, his hips thrust up into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. His fingers comb through your hair as if trying to soothe you. Despite the burn in your lungs, you don’t stop.

You grow increasingly distracted by your own problem — that you’re still just as hard as he is, leaking and staining your boxers. You can feel your pre-cum against your thigh, sticky and uncomfortable. Reluctantly, you lift your head, pulling off him. You keep using your hand, slick from your saliva. You try to catch your breath, and he tries to catch his. He has a small pout on his face, probably disheartened that you stopped. 

You pull yourself through the fly in your boxers, not the most comfortable — but you don’t really feel like getting up and taking them off. You spit into your hand like you did for Armin earlier, and you stroke yourself at about the same speed as you do him. You feel relief almost instantly, biting your lip at the respite. Feels a lot better than sitting there shifting your thighs. Your eyes flutter shut and you rest your head against his thigh, your breathing finally slowing.

“You okay?” He asks gently, running his fingers through your hair. He sounds just as winded as you. “Mhm,” you nod, kissing up his shaft again. You sit back up, resuming your ministrations with your mouth — and you swear he’s harder than before, if it’s even possible.

You keep your gaze locked on his eyes, but you notice he isn’t making eye contact with you. He stares between your legs — watching as you touch yourself — and you squirm. This is so embarrassing. He moans again, and he sounds like heaven. He must notice your embarrassment.

“You know, I — I’ve wanted you since Eren introduced us,” he breathes, head tilting back. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but—” his hips jerk again and he moans, interrupting himself. His fingers tighten more in your hair, and it hurts a little, but you don’t mind. You know he can’t help it. “Fuck… I’ve been… getting off to you — all the… all the time, I — do you… do you too? Have you been?” He gasps, and he looks like he regrets saying anything. You’re embarrassed to admit it, but of course you have. You’re sure you do it more than he does. Kind of humiliating, even thinking about yourself doing that. How desperate have you gotten?

Even so, he just admitted that he does it too, and you never thought you’d even get to be here. Giving Armin a blowjob.

Well — not really. You have thought about it. Probably too many times, touching yourself in the dead of night, thinking about your best friend and all the things you could do to him. All the things he could do to you. Moaning his name into your pillow just to see him the next day and act like nothing happened.

You whimper around him, having no other way to truly communicate. The sound sends vibrations up and down his shaft and he whines. He looks into your eyes, his gaze so tender you feel like crying. You try your best to smile up at him, and nod a little, even with your mouth occupied. You swear he whimpers as he stares down at you, cupping your face with one hand and keeping the other in your hair. “Yeah?” He asks, eyebrows pinching together, just as embarrassed as you are.

He laughs to himself, his muscles tensing. “Glad to know it’s not just me,” he laughs, his voice strained. You watch his stomach tighten, his thighs closing slightly. He hiccups out a moan, tugging on your hair. “Wait,” he gasps, as you run your tongue up the side of his length. “I’m—“ He cuts himself off with a groan, his head hitting the back of the couch with a quiet thump. “Wait, wait,” he moans, with a mumble of your name.

He must be close. You watch him shut his eyes tight as he continues to pull on your hair, probably without even realizing it. You try to relax your throat as much as possible, hoping to bring him closer to the edge. You speed up your own hand — making sure that you’re just as close as he is. It’s a lot, and your hips jerk away from the stimulation. It’s too much, you can barely make yourself keep up the pace, but you have to. There’s no way he finishes before you.

His jaw clenches and then goes slack, his mouth hanging open slightly. He’s quiet now, his body so tense that it looks painful. He moans, just once, and he gasps your name, and you swear you see his back arch ever so slightly as he comes without much warning. You swallow harshly on instinct, and, while it’s not a lot, you assumed it would be a few more minutes.

Nothing against him, he looks absolutely amazing above you — chest heaving and face somehow even redder than his sunburn. His hair is a bit mussed up, but, maybe it’s always been like that. And his glasses are slightly crooked.

But, so much for finishing before him.

You pull off of him with a quiet pop, and you bring your now free hand to rest on his thigh. You continue to chase your own high, and you bite your lip, not wanting to make any embarrassing sounds now that he’s done. You rest your cheek against his other thigh like you had before, whining quietly, your hips bucking into your hand. Armin’s still out of it, his eyes shut. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything better than this — your best friend, all fucked out. Because of you.

With a few last touches, you finally reach your own peak, after what felt like hours. You feel electricity shoot through you as you, thankfully, release into the palm of your hand. If you had stained the rug it might’ve been the death of you. You moan from the overwhelming pleasure, all of it much faster than you’re used to. Usually, you take as much time as you need with this — in the comfort of your own bed in the middle of the night. Alone. And, now, here you are, having made yourself come, in maybe 5 minutes, on your knees, in front of your best friend. Not the most familiar.

You take some time to catch your breath, eventually sitting back up and quickly pulling yourself back into your boxers. You stay there awkwardly with your hand all soiled, wondering what’s next. He opens his eyes, coming down from his high. He looks down at you and smiles. “Wow. Oh my god,” he laughs, still panting. You nod, laughing with him. You get up, feeling a bit of an ache in your legs from having stayed in the same position for so long. “Um… let me…” You mumble, embarrassed, gesturing to your messy hand. He nods, getting what you mean.

You quickly head to the bathroom, washing your hands thoroughly to get rid of any evidence of your encounter. You look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is all a mess from Armin pulling and running his fingers through it. Your face is still flushed, lips a little swollen. You splash some cold water on your face, hoping to get a grip, because you’re not sure what happens next.

Are things gonna be weird? Maybe he’ll have some post-nut clarity and never want to talk to you again. Maybe he was straight this whole time and will think you’re weird for wanting to do it. Maybe he’ll tell everyone about how bad you are at giving head.

Or, maybe not. You’re overthinking this. Armin’s not like that. Maybe he’ll say he likes you just as much as you like him. Hopefully, you’ll get together and finally get to be with the man you’ve been so in love with. You’re pretty sure things will be normal.

You head back to the living room, feeling cold again now that he’s not with you. You had forgotten about the AC. You regret splashing cold water on your face. But, you’re pretty sure it’s really because Armin was so warm and now you’re not with him. Yes, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold. You walk a little quicker to get back to him. This house is too big.

You get back, seeing him sprawled out on your side of the couch. He’s pulled his boxers and sweatpants back on, and he’s taken his glasses off. He opens his eyes at the sound of your footsteps and sees you standing there awkwardly. He smiles, gesturing for you to come closer.

You walk up to him, unsure what to do.

“C’mere, lie down.” He urges quietly, sounding tired. You smile back and climb over him, lying your head on his chest like you’d done before. You melt into him — he’s so warm. So comfortable. He scratches your back gently, and you sigh contentedly, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck.

You know you should talk. Figure out what all this means. Are you still friends… or something more? And figure out if he actually likes you, because you were always convinced he was straight.

But, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. You realize how tired you are, limbs exhausted from swimming all day, every day, since you got here. And you’ve been getting mediocre sleep, just enough to feel like enough. And, well, you just came a few minutes ago. So did Armin. He’s just as tired as you are.

So you won’t talk about it right now. You can talk in the morning when you’re both well-rested and in your right mind. But, for now, you can let your eyes flutter shut, let your muscles relax, and let yourself sink into Armin’s embrace. Just before you fall asleep, you’re sure that you’ll get to have many more nights with Armin like this.

[daisies-daydreams]

Overload (TF 141 x F!Autistic!Reader)

Original Request (AO3): 141 x autistic!reader who's hypersensitive and moody to too much noise or texture? 🥺 these are so sweet you write them all so well and open minded 🖤

Pairing: Task Force 141 x Autistic!F!Reader Category: Fluff/Angst Warnings: Descriptions of sensory overload (texture/sound), depictions of ableism (Simon's especially), swearing Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: While I've never officially been diagnosed with ASD, I do have ADHD and have many friends/family who have ASD. These are based on my own experiences with sensory overload, as well as my friend's and family's. Everyone's experience with sensory overload is different, and these scenarios are not meant to reflect what everyone with ASD experiences/encounters.

John Price

You sighed as you slammed the front door behind you. Work today was completely exhausting and you wanted nothing more than to kick your shoes off, take a shower, and curl up in bed. You slipped your shoes off and hung up your purse before walking into the kitchen. You clenched your fist around your phone when you saw a pile of dishes resting in the sink.

“John? Kids?” you called. There was no reply. You glanced around the corners before your phone buzzed.

“Football practice running a little late-will bring dinner home. Love you.” -John

You ran your hand down your face. You scrunched up your nose as you saw the wet food remaining on some of the plates and bowls. Dishes were usually John’s chore, but with your kids having football practice and the two of you working, things understandably fell behind at times. The cherry on the cake was that your dishwasher was broken…which meant now you had to wash everything by hand.

You felt your skin crawl as you grabbed the sponge and turned on the faucet, the water pouring out as you grimaced. You bit the inside of your cheek as you grabbed one of the plates, nearly dropping it when the tips of your fingers slid against the soggy food. You gagged and stepped back, your hand squeezing the sponge as you tried to take a deep breath. You had to suppress every urge to yell as you cleaned the dishes, each feeling of mushy food against your hands making your breathing grow more ragged.

You flinched when you heard the front door swing open, your children clamoring inside as John yelled at them to settle down. You clenched the cup in your hand.

“Could you please be quiet?!” you shouted as you waved your hand. Your eyes widened as it slipped out, glass shattering all over the tiled floor. The room went completely silent as you stood still, hot tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Kids, go on upstairs and finish your homework while I help mum clean up. Take your food with you,” John said. They both nodded before taking their food upstairs to their rooms. You glanced away, bunching your wet hand on the bottom of your shirt as your husband lumbered towards the linen closet.

“I-I didn’t mean to shout or break anything,” you murmured, the tips of your ears burning as he silently walked over with a hand-broom. You flinched when he stooped down next to you and gently brushed the shards into the dustpan.

“Don’t move,” he instructed. Your shoulders slumped as you rubbed your thumb and forefinger between your blouse. You sighed as you tossed the sponge back into the sick with good riddance. “Did you get cut?” he asked before tilting his head up. You shook your head. John hummed as he swept the last few bits into the pan.

“Right, you should be good to move now,” he said with a nod. Tears suddenly started to trickle down your cheeks as he dumped the mess into the bin. His bushy brows furrowed as you sniffed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” your voice cracked. John immediately rushed up to you, though he kept his hands at his side.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked. You swore you would’ve given yourself carpet burn if you moved your fingers against your shirt any faster.

“I-It was such a long day at work, and then I-I came home and saw there were still some dirty dishes in the sink, so…” your voice trailed off as your face flushed. John cooed as he tilted his head.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I meant to do them before I left,” he apologized. You nodded before wiping your cheeks. “Hey, look at me,” John said. You slowly tilted your gaze back to him, your fingers now tugging on the belt loops of your pants. John gave you a small gentle smile as he held his hand out. You slowly pulled your hand away from your pants and ghosted your palm over his.

“You did nothing wrong, understand?” he said. You swallowed a lump in your throat and nodded.

“I-I know…I just hate acting like that over something so ‘little’,” you huffed. John nodded slowly.

“Love, it’s not ‘little’ to you,” he assured you. You found yourself shifting your gaze between your hand and his face. John sighed as you let your hand fall back to your side.

“Come on. I brought home your favorite,” he winked as he tilted his head towards the table. You felt your heart flutter a little as you nodded.

“Thank you,” you replied.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Your hands already flinched the second you walked through the front doors of the local pub. It was packed to the brim with patrons, televisions blasting the Chelsea game.

“You alright?” Kyle asked as he slipped his hand into yours. You took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, fine,” you replied with a tight grin. Your boyfriend gave you a concerned look before you tugged at his hand. Kyle’s been wanting to go to the pub for a while and since you chose date night last time, you obliged him. You repeat to yourself on the car ride over that it wasn’t such a big deal, that a little bit of noise wouldn’t be so bad.

It was.

It felt like you were caught in the middle of a raging storm at sea, waves of people’s voices and the game blasting over the screens making you cover your ears. You tried so hard to pay attention to what Gaz was talking about, but it felt like every clink of glass, every whoop and holler at the game made your skin crawl. You gritted your teeth as you squeezed your eyes shut, gently rocking yourself in your seat.

Your cheeks flush as you try to not imagine people looking at you, their stares of concern or judgment piercing into your mind. You nearly jumped out of your chair when you felt someone put their hands over yours. You snapped your head up to see Kyle gazing at you, his brows furrowed as he tilted his head.

“Love?” he asked. Your nostrils flared as you suddenly slipped out of the booth, pushing past him as you rushed outside. While the city streets of London didn’t fare any better, at least you didn’t feel like someone was trying to crush you between their palms. Your hands remained over your ears as you sat on the bench, bouncing your leg as you bit your lip.

You saw Kyle quickly sprint out of the pub out of the corner of your eye, wildly looking around until he locked eyes with you. You turned away as he slid next to you on the bench. The two of you were quiet for a while as you slowly let your hands fall into your lap.

“Wanna talk about it?” Kyle asked. You lowered your head, your face sullen and exhausted as you sighed.

“I’m sorry, I tried…I-I thought I could do it,” you said in a broken mutter. “But the yelling and the game…just everything. It was too much,” you sighed. Kyle listened as you folded your hands together. “I’m sorry, I thought I could be strong enough,” you frowned.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s got nothing to do with you being ‘strong’ enough or not,” he said. You glanced over before looking back at your lap. Kyle took a deep breath. “It'll be okay, love,” he stated as he gave you a gentle smile. You nodded slowly, your shoulders still slumped over. You glanced over again when your boyfriend stood up. You looked at him as he held his hand out.

“C’mon hun, let’s head home. We can watch some movies if you want,” he smiled warmly. Your features softened as you took his hand.

“That sounds nice,” you said.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You stared at the sweater hanging on your bathroom door. It was gifted to you from your grandma last Christmas. Bless her heart, she truly loved to give you thoughtful presents…except she always forgot about how certain textures affected you.

“At least wear it to the reunion,” your mother urged you. “She’s not going to be around forever,” she added. You sighed as you slid the sweater on, dreading having to wear it to a several hour long event. Your skin instantly felt like it was being scratched at by a thousand toothpicks, their pointy tips scraping across your upper body. You seethed as you smoothed it over your chest before there was a soft knock at the door.

“Sweetheart, you ready to go?” your boyfriend asked. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mother’s words still echoing your head as you took a deep breath. You opened the door, Simon standing before you in a deep blue jacket and a pair of jeans. He gave you a small grin.

“I feel a bit underdressed,” he chuckled as he eyed your sweater. You shrugged before grabbing your purse.

“Let’s head out,” you replied as you walked towards the door. Your boyfriend remained silent before you heard him rush up to open the door for you. You gave him a tense, courteous smile as you went to the car. The ride to your family reunion consisted of you picking at your sleeves, collar, and the tag on the back. Simon glanced over every once in a while before flicking his eyes back to the road.

You wore a tight smile as you walked into your grandma’s house. Your cousins greeted you before your mom came up, squeezing you in a tight hug. You clenched your fists as the itchy fabric felt like it was searing into your skin.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” your mother beamed. You nodded before meeting eyes with your grandmother. She gasped as she waved you over. You gave her a small grin as you approached, cringing as she planted a wet kiss on your cheek.

“How are you doing, dear?” your grandmother asked.

“I’m good,” you stated. Simon soon came up behind you, your grandmother’s eyes widening.

“Is this the handsome young lad your mom’s always talking about?” she asked. Your mom laughed nervously as she looked away. Your boyfriend stepped up.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nana,” Simon smiled as he held out his hand. He grunted when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly.

“Better be careful, (Y/N). I might just steal him from you,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear before winking at you. Simon chuckled before slipping back. You tugged on the collar of your sweater, desperate for some relief from the sweltering, needle-like fabric. You flinched when your mother nudged her elbow into your side.

“Stop fidgeting. It looks improper,” she hissed. Your face got hot as you tried to keep your hands at your sides. The rest of the reunion was fine…until one of your relatives gave you a hug from behind.

“Get off of me!” you shouted as you jerked away. Everyone’s eyes were immediately on you, causing you to stiffen beneath their gaze.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong with you?” your mother scoffed from nearby. You looked down at your shoes as Simon came rushing towards you. “I thought you’d grow out of this, honestly,” she muttered under her breath. Your face remained hard as stone as you turned on your heel and ran towards the back patio, slamming the door behind you. You puffed out a heavy sigh as you leaned over the railing of the deck, tempted to just strip yourself of the sweater and chuck it into the garden below. Your back was hunched over as you heard the door open behind you.

“(Y/N),” your boyfriend called. You didn’t answer. You heard his heavy footsteps grow louder as he came next to you. He folded his hands together as he stared at the dead garden with you.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” you muttered dejectedly. You saw him glance at you in your peripheral vision.

“I know,” he replied. Your eyes widened slightly when you saw him hand you his jacket.

“Here,” he said. You looked into his eyes.

“But it’s chilly out,” you frowned. Simon pushed his jacket closer to you.

“That damn thing has caused you enough grief already. Should’ve given this to you sooner, to be honest,” he flushed a little. Your heart melted as you took the piece of clothing and slipped behind him. He stood in front of you while you took off the sweater, his larger body overshadowing yours while you changed. You looked down, sighing as the smooth material graced over your skin while you zipped up the jacket.

“Thank you,” you smiled. He nodded.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, yeah?” Simon stated. “We can go get some hot chocolate at a new place down the street,” he suggested with a playful smile. You grinned a little.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” you replied.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

You opened your purse to grab your ear plugs…only to find that they weren’t there.

“Feeling okay?” your boyfriend asked. You bit the inside of your cheek as you nervously looked over at the gates, the roar of the crowd already making your insides crawl. You slid your hands into your pocket before nodding. Johnny grinned ear to ear as the two of you made your way into the stadium. You crinkle your nose as the sound of the music combined with the cheering crowd bombarded your senses. Johnny tapped your elbow with his before tilting his head towards your empty seats.

“Excuse me,” you muttered as you slipped past a few people. You rubbed the fabric of your pocket between your fingers as you sat down. Minutes felt like hours as you sat there, sometimes covering your ears and wincing as wave after wave of rambunctious cheering pierced your eardrums. Johnny seemed too invested in the game to notice your predicament. You bounced your leg up and down as you flared your nostrils.

“Why didn’t you bring the stupid earplugs?” you scolded yourself internally. You looked over at your boyfriend, his grin stretching ear to ear as he hung on the edge of his seat. “You can’t ruin this for him…he’s been waiting to go to a game for months!” you thought. You flinched when you felt Johnny place a hand on your thigh. You tried to ignore the way his brows furrowed as he parted his lips.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you nearly growled. Johnny blinked before letting his hand slip away, his face tilted down just a little bit more. Your heart instantly shattered as he remained more quiet than before.

“You sure?” he asked. “I just know that you haven’t eaten since-”

“I said I’m fine!” you shouted. You clasped your hands over your mouth as you stopped bouncing your leg. Johnny sat there with wide eyes and a blank expression. Your bottom lip quivered before you sighed.

“I…I’m sorry,” you breathed. Johnny patted your knee as you bunched your shirt into the tight grip of your fists. “I thought I could watch the game without earplugs…but I forgot them at home,” you glanced away from him. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve been waiting to see this game for ages, and-”

You blinked when he held out a pair of ear plugs. He shrugged.

“Figured I’d grab the other pair in case anything happened,” he smiled. Your heart fluttered as you wrapped your arms around his torso and nuzzled your face into his chest. He chuckled before planting a kiss on your head. A loud eruption of noise crashed over the stadium, causing you to instantly cover your ears.

Johnny rested his hands over your wrists after the crowd calmed down before handing you the ear plugs. You gladly pushed them into your ears. You glanced over when he tapped your shoulder before making a drinking motion towards his mouth.

“Could you get me a lemonade please?” you yelled. Johnny smiled, his eyes lighting up before he nodded and kissed your cheek. You grinned as you sat down in your seat, your heart full as you closed your eyes and listened to the muffled sounds around you.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter, @depressesoespressorat @yuhhtricki999

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here’s a 1960 manor in High Point, North Carolina that’s mostly white and black, but what attracted me to it was the lemon yellow accents. It really breaks it up and looks sharp. It has 5bd., 6ba. and 2 1/2ba. $1.2M. 

The entrance hall is painted gray, but I like the leopard runner, the floors and the yellow bench. Notice the shiny black door on the right- that’s how you use black- sparingly, not like the house we saw yesterday. 

See how the yellow pops? I really like it. This house is classy.

Lovely breakfast table area.

They’ve seamlessly combined old & new. 

Beautiful shower- look at the textured shine on the wall. 

I like the yellow theme running thru the house. Very elegant formal dining room, and the black door with white molding looks spot on. 

1/2 bath. Is that wallpaper? I like the sheen.

Light gray Shaker cabinets and marble or quartz backsplash in the kitchen and pantry. 

Even the hall is gorgeous and look at that storage cabinet.

So pretty. This is one time where I actually don’t mind all the gray.

Another nice shower. 

This is so beautiful for everyday dining, it’s stunning. 

Gorgeous library.

Gigantic covered porch.

And, here we are upstairs. 

The main bd. is a stunner. They had to have a professional decorate this place. 

This bed is a showstopper. 

Notice the 60s look of the lighting. It must be original. 

Hall of closets.

I like how they incorporated the animal patterns. Even the colors of the books are coordinated.

Another bath.

Linen closet could be used for shoes. 

All the bds. are so pretty.

Here’s a walk-in closet.

Nice little room looks like it could be a dressing room. Notice the fancy cat bed.

Knotty pine den.

This garden room is fabulous.

Looks like a little potting room. 

Great pool.

Have you ever seen a storage room like this? It’s all sorted. 

Nice grounds around the house. 

https://triad.mlsmatrix.com/matrix/shared/pJT6N1VHSw/923CountryClubDrive

[lorbanery]

Shenanigans are happening.

...

Okay, not really shenanigans.

I found instructions to make an Edwardian skirt and we made one for Halloween out of this suiting wool we had lying around. And I LOVE it.

I've been wearing it CONSTANTLY. It's light but still warm; it's so hydrophobic that I didn't realize until hours later that I'd accidentally spilled coffee on it on Halloween and I was able to just blot it off; it's fitted at the top but got a great swirl at the hem; since I made it, it's the correct length to be long without worrying about it dragging on the ground; and I can dress it up or down as I see fit.

So when it came time to put together a list of things I wanted for the holidays, I realized that one of the major things that I really wanted was a bunch more of these skirts. Long, swirly, made out of hardy natural fibers. So I could just transition into a Skirt Wearer. The problem being that we don't, in general, have on hand the amount of fabric needed to make another skirt in my size, even in a poly. BUT there's a discount fabric store less than an hour away from us that has a decent selection of wool for less than a third of the price you would pay buying new. So what I asked for was a trip there and a budget to buy enough fabric for a few skirts.

I was thinking maybe three more, but the prices were even lower than I expected and I ended up with enough for six skirts — 4 wool and 2 linen, 3 mid/heavy weight and 3 light weight. Also a bonus tatting needle because I wanted to try tatting lace and it was only $6 and came with instructions and a simple pattern, so why not?

Another bonus? That greyish green one right above the houndstooth? It looks like stripes, but it's actually wool corduroy! Which was a pleasant surprise! I picked it out on the color alone, the back of it looks similar to the Lothlorien cloaks, but it was folded up on a shelf and, like most textured fabrics, was folded inside-out to protect the texture. So I didn't actually see that it was corduroy until I got it up to the counter and unfolded it a bit to get a better sense of it.

That one and the houndstooth, I think, are going to be split down the front and get some buttons. The other two wools are just going to be plain. The linen skirts I'm thinking about doubling up as petticoats for under the wool skirts on particularly cold days. Which might end up including a removable ruffle. This was apparently a Thing around the turn of the century. The ruffle would add some extra fullness to the bottom of the skirt, protect the actual hem of the petticoat from damage (since it would be worn and laundered more often than the skirt), and be sewn to keep the gather, and then basted onto the pettycoat for easy removal to wash or mend or replace it.

I suspect I'm gonna be too lazy to actually do that. So either one of the linen skirts will just have a permanent ruffle, or I'll make a removable ruffle and it'll just sit in the back of my closet.

But I'm GREATLY looking forward to this, especially with all I learned from the first skirt.

Also tatting? The lowest bar for learning a new needlework craft. It's a single long needle, and there's only one stitch. There's some trickyness to it starting out, i've gotten my rings knotted several times. But I do think part of that is because I'm using embroidery floss. I do actually have the correct yarn, I just have to go digging for it, and I had the embroidery floss more easily to hand.

[lenavaz]

MERROCK TASK #18 HOME SWEET HOME

Lena lives in a manufactured mobile home that was assembled in Lupine Lane, in the suburbs of Merrock, in the year 1984. The house was purchased by her grandfather, who passed away before she was born, and lived in by her grandmother up until January of 2024. It's a three bedroom home (two currently in use, with a third being used as a media/pet room), with two bathrooms, a large living room, kitchen, dining room and laundry space. It has a patio space, car port, decent sized backyard, and is on a quiet cul-de-sac.

Since moving in, Elena has made few changes to the home -- re-doing the master bedroom to keep it to her taste, but still honoring the aesthetic her grandmother has loved, the kitchen and sun room have remained completely untouched, bright and sunny, as well as the guest room (where her niece stays), and bathroom. The home boasts a lot of natural light, which Lena has taken advantage of to grow house plants, and she's painstakingly worked at maintaining all of her grandmother's rose bushes, to bring her fresh bouquets often.

In general, her aesthetic is very light feminine; lots of florals and pinks. Clean linens, light colored furniture. She organizes her closet each week with potential outfits, has a specific place in her bedroom to do make-up, and loves a lot of soft textures.

[cityandking]

glance, stillness, informal, texture, + hair for minah, narayani & bran!

tyyyy // oc asks: character design edition

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

MINAH — minah puts a lot of effort into looking the perfect degree of bland-and-normal that makes people overlook her. if anything about her is distinguishing, it's probably that she's got a scar over one eye, but she wears her bangs long to hide it so—distinguishing, maybe, but not stand-out NARAYANI — it's the easy answer but it's still true: her vallaslin (she's got dirthamen's in a sort of deep red-brown). she also has a scar through her right eyebrow and another along her left jawline. BRAN — it's gotta be the hair. the blue eyes are pretty distinctive too, but at a glance it's absolutely the hair

stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?

MINAH — minah gets a little fidgety, but usually in discreet ways. she's almost always got a line of a song threading through her head and usually her fidgeting is tapping out those rhythms, or sometimes doing violin fingerings against her palm. she's pretty used to waiting around for periods of time—waiting for a stage cue, waiting for a job, waiting for a guard patrol to pass—and she's good at not drawing undue attention. she dresses mostly for comfort and to be able to move easily, so her clothing doesn't much affect her, though sometimes she'll fiddle with whatever's in her pocket. lots of doing coin tricks where no one sees NARAYANI — narayani's got a bit of the hunter's coiled waiting to her. she's not a big fidgeter, but she'll shift her weight regularly and tense/un-tense her muscles so nothing falls asleep while she's loitering. her armor is pretty light so it doesn't cause any real issues posture-wise BRAN — she's definitely a fidgeter; she has a bunch of energy to burn. if she had an idle animation it would be taking her hat off, pushing her hair back, and putting the hat back on, but she's also prone to futzing with the hilt of her rapier or the butt of the gun or her jewelry. her boots have a bit of a heel that affects her posture and sometimes she has to compensate for how the wind tugs at her hat or coat, but there's nothing specific about how her clothes affect how she holds herself

informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?

MINAH — out of her warden blues, minah wears a light shirt, a short-cropped jacket and a wrap skirt and/or a pair of leggings—pretty much exactly what she'd wear with the orchestra. she maybe? replaces her old leather jacket with the quilted warden half jacket after joining up? I'm still trying to decide how her orchestra fit transforms into her warden fit and unfortunately I don't draw well enough to do a full set of concept options. mostly she dresses in what's familiar and comfortable and allows her the most range of motion. NARAYANI — definitely wears something cut in the same fashion her clan wore, which I am still figuring out. I think it's probably a simple shift with some kind of belt situation and a? shawl? I feel that there's a lot of (lightweight) fabric with a couple belts/sashes to shape it but I'm still hashing out specifics BRAN — pants, shirt (very unbuttoned), hair worn loose or tied up in a tail. no coat, no hat, probably no boots. it's her Hanging Around The Ship look

texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?

MINAH — she doesn't really have any preference. she likes cotton and linen and fabrics that breathe. she also has a certain appreciation for silk and satin and velvet and other fine fabrics—there's a certain pleasure in wearing really nice stuff, even if it's only for a show (or stolen from a lordling's closet) NARAYANI — wears a lot of natural fibers? and a fair bit of fur and leather probably. she doesn't like anything too stiff/starched and metal armor is also a little heavy/uncomfy, but she appreciates not getting stabbed so she'll figure out how to deal with a set of greaves or a breastplate if she has to. BRAN — isn't picky. she likes breathable, light fabrics for the heat and dense, waterproof fabrics for the cold and the damp, but overall she's more interested in how much wear something can take than how it feels. she left the silks and the softness behind a long time ago.

hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?

MINAH — keeps it cut short, about jaw length with bangs, and she dyes it regularly. there's not real meaning, she just prefers it that way. short means easy to deal with and she prefers darker shades to her natural blonde (I think maybe next time skip she might grow it out and start wearing a french braid. feels like a vibe for her) NARAYANI — wears her hair long (about mid-back) and in a perpetually-fraying braid. it's naturally a bit unruly so it doesn't always braid so well, but better that than having it flap around in her face. bull suggests putting spikes in it and honestly? she considers it. BRAN — wears her hair long and loose and absolutely wild. she trims it short at some point (about shoulder-length) but lets it grow out again. is it a nightmare? sure, but she likes it!

[vacantvisage]

im hoping when i finish all the toys i can try to build like. a closet or a toy chest or something to put all the toys in, sort of forcing the viewer to interact with them, root through them, touch them, handle them etc meanwhile some of them will appear hostile to "touch" i.e. i'll embroider one explicitly saying "don't touch me" on the belly. might put studs on a few, i'll have to plan more of them out.

i'm aiming for thirty-some toys, one for each year of my life. all of them "innocent" and "feminine" animals like cats, sheep, and bunnies, except one. i'll have to find fabric i like but it'll be a faceless, sexless human doll like those old school raggedy ann/andy dolls buried under all the animals with long black yarn hair.

i'd like a set of markers for people to write or draw whatever they want on the humanoid doll (which is what i did to my ann and andy dolls as a kid. sort of. i crossed out their faces. i ruined the faces of almost all my toys growing up, i hated the feeling of being watched, hence why the ones i make dont have faces)

all of the toys will be fleece except for the raggedy an/ndy one, which i dont remember what they're made of but i'll try to replicate it. maybe just cotton? or maybe a linen. something oddly textured and not very cuddly. and stains/inks very easily.

anyway. just my thoughts. a long process. i have a few dolls planned out already, one will be another bunny with pale-tan fleece and a pink fabric dress, and i'll embroider heart beads and heart sequin in the crotch area to look like she's bleeding. and a couple sheeps, one maybe half "shaved" and another in a red hood.

i'll have to...... plan for so many toys.... but we'll see how it goes.

[rubiatinctorum]

over half my closet is now wools, linen, silk, cotton, and i feel very happy with that. they feel really good to me and i've been lucky that i've been able to find a lot of them thrifting/discount department store searching, and gifted to me in the case of one of my suits. i feel a lot more comfortable in my clothing now than i used to. little bit annoying that the textures of some of the most common textile types (polyester and acrylic, plastic gang) feel so uncomfortable yknow

[bniblogger]

Designing Your Master Bedroom: Creating a Serene Retreat

Your master bedroom is not just a place to sleep; it is your personal sanctuary, a haven of relaxation and rejuvenation. Designing this space requires careful consideration and attention to detail to ensure it reflects your style and promotes a sense of tranquillity. Whether you're starting from scratch or giving your existing bedroom a makeover, here are some tips to help you design a master bedroom that is both functional and inviting.

Define Your Style: Begin by determining the overall style you want to achieve. Are you drawn to minimalist, contemporary, rustic, or bohemian aesthetics? Browse through design magazines, websites, and social media platforms to gather inspiration and identify key elements that resonate with you. This will serve as a foundation for your design decisions.

Optimize Space: Consider the layout and size of your bedroom to make the most of the available space. Choose furniture that fits comfortably and doesn't overcrowd the room. A clutter-free environment promotes relaxation, so incorporate ample storage solutions like built-in closets or stylish dressers to keep belongings organized and out of sight.

Choose a Soothing Colour Palette: Colours have a profound impact on our moods and emotions. Select a calming colour palette that promotes relaxation and serenity. Soft, muted tones like pastels, neutrals, or cool blues and greens can create a peaceful ambience. Introduce pops of colour through accessories or artwork to add visual interest without overwhelming the space.

Layer Lighting: Lighting is crucial in setting the right mood in a master bedroom. Incorporate a mix of ambient, task, and accent lighting to create a layered effect. Install dimmer switches to adjust the intensity of light according to your needs and preferences. Consider natural light as well, as it can enhance the overall atmosphere of the room.

Invest in Quality Bedding: The centrepiece of any master bedroom is the bed. Invest in a high-quality mattress, comfortable pillows, and luxurious bedding to ensure a good night's sleep. Opt for soft, breathable fabrics like cotton or linen that feel gentle against the skin. Experiment with textures and patterns to add visual interest to your bed.

Create a Relaxation Nook: Designate a cosy corner in your master bedroom for relaxation and unwinding. Consider adding a comfortable reading chair or a chaise lounge where you can enjoy a book or simply take a moment to yourself. Enhance this space with a plush rug, a side table, and a floor lamp for added functionality.

Incorporate Personal Touches: Your master bedroom should reflect your personality and create a sense of intimacy. Display meaningful artwork, photographs, or treasured items that evoke positive emotions. Add personal touches through decorative accents like candles, plants, or scented diffusers to infuse the room with your unique style.

Remember, the key to designing a master bedroom is to create a space that promotes relaxation and serves as your personal retreat. With careful thought and attention to detail, you can design a serene and inviting space that brings you joy and rejuvenation every time you step into it. Take the time to plan and consider your preferences, and let your master bedroom become a haven for rest and tranquillity.

[ahotcutea]

The silhouette of the summer ( or at least in my imagery closet)

With the rise of global warming, we should try to protect our skin this summer. While applying sunscreen is important, I think the best way to protect our skin is through fashion ( there is a reason why I'm not a scientist); according to my brain, the best way to protect our skin while being fashionable is by the design of silhouette - thick but cool fabrics.

Fabrics such as Linen, lightweight kinds of cotton, Chambray, or other light weave fabrics. Along with fabrics, I think patterns are going to be big in a different way. During the past few years, the summers have been drowned in cute vibrant patterns. I think this year, the patterns will be very subtle, instead of printed patterns such as neon swirls and big flowers. I think the patterns we will have this year are more 3d ( in a way), with bows that are sewn on instead of printed and stitches that have a texture ( such as summer knits). These patterns aren't going to be apparent unless felt with the human hand. 

I also think this will be from the human isolation and lack of texture ( due to the constant contact with smoothness, ex., Computer/phone screens, fabrics of fast fashion as they lack quality, and many other factors )

In my opinion, the best silhouette for the summer is aline dresses/shirts with a little flare - not a peplum flare but just enough for it to be classy and cutie. I also think pleats will be a big part of these types of dresses; they wouldn't be those pretty big pleats but instead small delicate pleats, the kind you only notice when you spin or feel the waistline. Thick straps, bows, layered slits, sailor collars, and high but soft necklines are def in. These fashions Ofcsss will vary in color, but I definitely think they will be blendable colors. I like to think of it as a middle-aged woman's color: grays, creams, muddled purples, black, cream butter yellows - colors that don't clash within the scale of the city but definitely stand out when in community groups such as book clubs or coffee catch ups. 

I also think a 2-piece loose set will make a comeback, specifically within straight sizes with the return of a slim figure; people who are straight sizes but not slim will go to these types of 2-piece. They give the illusion of slimness without sacrificing their current lifestyle. 

Now the shoe of the summer is low kitten heels, those j.crew heels, and those cute sneakers.

The theory - I like them - look how cute they are, just adorable. 

Ok, I'll justify my opinions - the reason why I think people will go out in shoes while dressing super casual is the cause of the lack of color - we left the summers of color puke, the people need a pop - you know a little hit here, and there never hurts - and the color hit will be seen in the shoes, with the same allure of the casual clothes the structure of the shoe will be very sleek, but similar to the colors of the last summer the color of the shoe will have a nice pop! 

Anyways - this is just a cute lil microtrend-theory i have 

I definitely will have different trends and styles this summer - and tots will write about them …

I hope you enjoyed this lil rant 

Thanks for reading my first post 

Here my pin board that visualized these types of styles 

XoXo ~Z

[aplaceforbeingtoomuch]

The Texture of Grief

The upstairs bedroom felt like a tomb: lifeless, stagnant and musty from the open attic door and closet, their long-ago packed contents in disarray on the floor. The hallway light cast familiar angles of the vaulted ceilings and of the wooden railing outlining the mezzanine to the main level below. I sat there in the same bed I’d spent countless nights in and felt like I was sharing a room with a corpse. The silence was deafening, raging; shrieking at me, telling me to leave. I sat still, feeling uneasy, scared - jarred. This house did not feel remotely familiar anymore.

“It’s just stuff,” I kept telling myself over and over again between sips of cheap canned wine, and getting lost between the basement, the main floor and the top level. Open, unfinished boxes and things that need to be packed scattered everywhere. Donate? Keep? Each item sparked a flood of memories pulling me in different directions. Maybe I should keep it. No… it’s just a blanket, just some books. It’s all just “stuff” that are pieces of my childhood.

The linen closet in the upstairs bathroom I estimate should take me 20 minutes to clear out. Two more cans of wine later, and in the haze of packing, I found myself bracing against the wooden built-in shelves of the closet, tearful, as I rubbed my palms along the scratchy hang-dried towels of faded pastels and deep Christmas colors; each neatly folded and tucked away. I felt the softness of the bedding we would use to make palettes at night when the house was full of family. I found hand-embroidered blankets and pillow cases with bright thread that the hands of my great-grandmother made for her daughter, and her daughter’s daughter, and her daughter’s daughter’s daughter (me). The scent and textures from these long-sat folded treasures flooded my mind with memories I forgot I had.

It feels surreal watching a whole lifetime dissolve into boxes, trash bags and price tags. It feels like betrayal to let my grandmother’s and grandfather’s hand-picked belongings be stickered and put on a shelf for sale at the local Goodwill. Or to let their clothes be hung up and shoved between other stranger’s donations. See, that’s not just a painting of Paris, a place my Grandma had wanted to visit. That image brought my grandma delight. She was drawn to the strokes of color, the interpretive style of the Eiffel tower, the sparkles. It was a sweet, girly thing she brought home to adorn the wall nearest the kitchen. It was there while we ate lunch before going to get our nails done, and when she would make her hot water before bed. And those aren’t just white sneakers - my grandmother walked the beach with me in that pair. And there - she liked to wear those when we went out to eat at Olive Garden.

And there again, back in the upstairs bedroom, those aren’t just curtains, with cream lace and small, embroidered red flowers. They hung silently, framing the window above the built-in reading nook; a fixture in the backdrop of my life. They dangled there peacefully as my grandma read us bedtime stories, as her lilting voice lulled us to sleep. They saw every sunrise with me and my siblings when we were there visiting during summer breaks, illuminating beautifully as the sun shone through it while I woke up, and eagerly got dressed to have breakfast with my family.

I remember it all: My little sister stays laying next to my imprint on the bed, sleeping. My little brother, across the room from us, also restfully sleeps on a palette made of soft, colorful blankets that my grandmother had pulled out and arranged for him the night before. She grabs an extra pillow and blanket from the linen closet for my sister and I to share on the full-sized bed. She hugs me, prays, wishes me goodnight, and turns off the light. I hear the faint sound of the T.V. downstairs, and the microwave beeps with her warmed up tea. The cream curtains with embroidered, small red flowers listen to the sound of us three children drifting off to sleep - peacefully - at grandma’s house.

I can’t bear to remove them from the rod above the window. I sit there on the same bed and stare. They watch back, and witness my sorrow and hesitation. They’ve seen so much. Stilled by the memories and the longing to have it all back to the way it was, I leave them there.

[mogulinterior]

Vintage Furniture Trends: Armoires, Rustic Mid-Century, and Farmhouse Styles

In today’s interior design landscape, vintage furniture continues to be a cherished choice for homeowners looking to infuse their spaces with character, elegance, and a touch of nostalgia. Unlike modern mass-produced furniture, vintage pieces tell stories through timeworn details, rich textures, and timeless craftsmanship. Whether through antique armoires, rustic mid-century furnishings, farmhouse décor, or brass-studded barn doors, these elements add authenticity and warmth to a home. Here’s how these vintage trends are making a comeback and ways to incorporate them seamlessly into your space.

1. Antique Armoires: Functional Elegance with History

Armoires are a sophisticated and versatile addition to any room. Once essential in households for storing clothing and linens, armoires have evolved into stylish storage solutions that can double as statement pieces. Look for armoires with intricate wood carvings, ornate brass handles, or distressed finishes to enhance a space’s old-world charm. In modern settings, an antique armoire can serve as a unique wardrobe in a bedroom, a bar cabinet in a dining area, or even a media console in the living room.

How to Style It: When placing an armoire in your space, pair it with minimal accessories to let its historical beauty take center stage. If you’re using an armoire in the living room, style it with vintage books, textured linens, or a collection of classic pottery. This combination creates a relaxed and inviting look that radiates warmth and elegance.

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2. Rustic Mid-Century Furniture: Clean Lines Meet Textured Appeal

Mid-century modern furniture has been popular for decades, but vintage rustic mid-century pieces are becoming increasingly sought-after. These items blend the sleek lines of the mid-century era with a weathered finish that gives them a casual, approachable appeal. Rustic mid-century dressers, credenzas, or coffee tables offer the iconic clean lines and geometric forms but in earthy tones and distressed textures that add a comfortable, lived-in quality.

How to Style It: Embrace a mid-century-modern-meets-farmhouse aesthetic by pairing these pieces with natural materials like jute, leather, and linen. A rustic mid-century coffee table pairs beautifully with a deep leather sofa, layered rugs, and a selection of ceramic vases in muted tones, creating a balanced look that feels cohesive yet eclectic.

3. Farmhouse Décor: Cozy, Timeless, and Practical

Farmhouse style brings rustic charm and a sense of nostalgia that’s warm and inviting. Originating from rural homes, this style emphasizes practicality, simplicity, and a strong connection to nature. Farmhouse furniture pieces often feature wood, distressed finishes, and clean, straightforward lines. Look for classic farmhouse elements like a large, sturdy farmhouse dining table, distressed wooden cabinets, or a vintage-style bench to give your home a cozy, down-to-earth feel.

How to Style It: Incorporate farmhouse pieces into a contemporary home with a neutral color palette, adding soft textiles like wool blankets or linen curtains to soften the look. Farmhouse tables, for example, work well in modern spaces when paired with mismatched chairs, pendant lighting, and simple greenery for a touch of modern farmhouse elegance.

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4. Barn Doors with Brass Studs and Intricate Carvings: Artful Entries

Barn doors, once a purely functional element of barns, are now embraced in residential interiors for their rustic, aesthetic appeal. Their versatility makes them a wonderful addition as sliding doors for pantries, closets, or room dividers. Choosing barn doors with carved wood details or brass-studded accents enhances the rustic look with a refined twist, creating a grand focal point. This style is especially well-suited for open-concept homes, where a sliding barn door can bring warmth and definition to large, open spaces.

How to Style It: Opt for reclaimed wood barn doors to add texture to modern spaces, and pair them with contrasting elements, like a minimalist room with clean lines. The barn door can act as a piece of art, adding visual interest and a sense of history to the room without overwhelming the overall design.

Blending Vintage Pieces with Modern Interiors

One of the most compelling aspects of vintage furniture is its versatility in mixing with modern interiors. Vintage armoires, rustic mid-century pieces, and farmhouse décor can bring a unique, personalized touch to an otherwise contemporary setting. To achieve this look:

Vintage furniture is more than a design trend; it’s a way to add charm, character, and soul to a home. Whether through the sturdy lines of farmhouse tables, the artful carvings of antique armoires, or the rustic elegance of mid-century designs, vintage pieces are a timeless investment that elevates any space. Embrace the history, uniqueness, and warmth that vintage furniture brings, and create a home that feels deeply personal, stylish, and welcoming.

[neverneudfashions]

Why Men's Linen Pants Are a Warm-Weather Wardrobe Essential!

When the weather heats up, finding the right balance between comfort and style can be a challenge. That's where men's linen pants come in as the ultimate summer wardrobe staple. Lightweight, breathable, and effortlessly stylish, linen pants are perfect for various occasions, from casual outings to formal events. Here’s why every man should have at least one pair in his closet.

1. Unmatched Comfort and Breathability

Linen is a natural fabric known for its breathability, making it ideal for warm weather. It allows air to flow freely, keeping you cool and preventing overheating. Unlike heavier fabrics like denim or wool, linen absorbs moisture quickly, which helps you stay dry and comfortable throughout the day. Whether you're heading to the beach, attending a summer wedding, or just strolling around town, men's linen pants offer the perfect blend of comfort and style.

2. Versatile Styling Options

One of the best things about linen pants is their versatility. They can be easily dressed up or down, depending on the occasion. Pair them with a simple t-shirt and sneakers for a laid-back look, or dress them up with a button-down shirt and loafers for a more sophisticated outfit. The relaxed fit and texture of linen pants add a touch of effortless chic, making them suitable for various styles and settings.

3. Sustainable Fashion Choice

Linen is made from flax, a plant that requires minimal water and pesticides to grow, making it an eco-friendly choice for fashion-conscious individuals. By opting for linen pants for men, you’re not just investing in a stylish piece but also supporting sustainable fashion practices. Their durability ensures they last longer than many synthetic fabrics, reducing the need for frequent replacements.

4. Perfect for Travel

Linen pants are the ideal travel companion. Their lightweight nature makes them easy to pack, while their versatility allows you to mix and match with other items in your suitcase. Plus, linen’s natural wrinkle-prone look adds to its charm, so you don’t have to worry too much about ironing while you're on the go.

5. Available in a Range of Colors and Styles

Men's linen pants come in various colors, from classic neutrals like beige, white, and navy to bolder hues that can add a pop of color to your wardrobe. Whether you prefer a slim-fit style or a more relaxed, loose fit, there's a pair of linen pants that can meet your fashion needs. You can easily find a style that suits your personality and complements your existing wardrobe.

Conclusion

Men's linen pants are more than just a summer essential; they are a timeless addition to any wardrobe. Their comfort, versatility, and sustainability make them a must-have for every stylish man. At NeverNeud, we offer a range of men's linen pants designed to fit your lifestyle, ensuring you stay fashionable and comfortable all season long. Explore our collection today and find the perfect pair to complete your look.