#honey. got drunk on milk

[honey-milk-depresso]

I am a higher entity than T*ey, A*e and A*ul, so high in fact, so address me as Mrs Miss Honey

U_U

#honey.random #honey. got drunk on milk #honey.txt #twst #ew t #ew a*ul >:((( #ew a*e >:(((

[yeyinde]

coorie | John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader

He pants against your mouth, and you can feel the stretch of his grin—a languorous, satiated smile like the sunrise in the winter. All dark, endlessly so, and then suddenly— Johnny feels like dusk. The first breach of the morning over the lands; a sleepy haze of light eating into the tenebrose that shrouds everything around you. A steak of ochre, gold, in a world of darkness; the varicoloured smear of pastel clouds breaking over the horizon. 

Being with him is a little bit like cupping the sun in the palm of your hand. 

warnings: soft!Soap, super soft smut, fluff, domestic bliss, two idiots being drunk off of each other; female gendered anatomy, female!reader; very little substance just pure fluff

word count: 4k

notes: coorie is a cuddle in Scots and that's the cutest thing to me. we just have cwtsh. also, you can't look me in the eye and tell me this man ISN'T the little spoon.

The scent of wych elm and smoked cedar fill the back of your throat when you breathe in. The cloying richness tickles your nose; the heft of it is familiar, heady. Your head—fuzzy and thick from sleep—swims with the visceral sense of comfort that settles deep in your lungs when you pull it in. You know this smell. 

(Have a piece of it tucked under your pillow.

Did you see where my shirt went? The one I got from Aubin? I went runnin' in it this mornin', hen. Can't find it anywhere.

Maybe it's in the wash. 

Aye, maybe. 

You shoved it under the one he used, tucked it there for those nights that never seemed to end; when you always found yourself missing him the most.

Your secret to keep.)

You're caught in the middle of sleep and wakefulness; a purgatory where the world does not yet exist outside of the soft sheets dragging over your skin. Torn between the dream you were having that is still within reach (the taste of alder on your tongue, a hand across your pulse), and the cognisance that seeps inside: the birds outside of the window chittering, the cars driving across wet cobblestone, honking in the distance. 

And then—

There is a weight on you that—like the smell— doesn't belong. 

You'd gone to bed alone. Have done so for months now. The only company you keep is just the shirt, whose enticing scent has long since faded. 

You feel it, now. 

A weight. A presence. Something notches on your shoulder, a blunt pressure digging into your neck—a heaviness securing you to the bed, locked over your chest, and across your thighs. 

Your blankets could never be so firm, so warm. 

The dream slips into the recesses of your mind when your eyes crack open. A little sliver. The world bathed in bright gold. 

A rasp of something gritty and sharp scratches over the soft flesh below your shoulder, above the swell of your breast. The graze of it makes you smile. Makes you lull your head to the side until your nose meets wry curls that tickle your lips. 

You breathe him in. Sweat. Aged wood. 

He must have snuck in sometime during the night. 

(Finally, finally—)

The world resumes in pieces. The top of his brown hair under your eyes, his face nestled into the crook of your neck, soft plumes of humid breath on your throat, his grip over your ribs. Thighs tangled together. 

Like this, with your head dazed and spooled with the gossamer of somnolence, you can't begin to know where he ends and you begin. You merge together. A mess of limbs, heavy and thick with the scent of sleep. Warm milk. Honey. 

Johnny sleeps like a child. Always grasping out, reaching for you. He clings to you; body wrapping around yours as if he was trying to merge atoms. 

He might be. Johnny is a cuddler. The kind that sticks to you like glue, and refuses to let go. 

A slow, languid smile curls on your lips. Your arm laid on the pillow he's supposed to be using lifts, and falls gently to the top of his head. Nails rake through the coarse hair, scratching his scalp. His shorn sides are a little longer than you remember it, tufts of hair the same length as your fingernail. He'll need a haircut. 

You follow the trail of his mohawk, sliding down the nape of his neck, the knob of his spine. Real. Solid. 

You'll never tell him, but when he's gone, you often dream of him at night. The sweetness of it carries into the morning where it's ground into pain when you remember he's gone. When your fingers slide through the sheets in search of the man who isn't there, and meet the cold, barren emptiness across from you. 

He never sleeps in his spot, anyway. Always somehow wrapped around you instead. 

But this—

Waking up to the smell of him thick in your nose, the taste of him on your fingertips—it's the closest to heaven you think you'll ever get. 

At your touch, Johnny moans, low and rough. The sound drenched in sleep, and needy. A heat—soft, fluttering—spumes in your belly. The weight of his knee pressing into your hip bone makes you take a sharp, deep breath. 

It's been too long since his skin touched yours. Since the heat of him seeped to your marrow. 

Your nails dance down his spine, relishing the feel of his hard muscles under your palm. Johnny makes another noise—a soft husk, full of sleepy longing—and it goes straight to your core. His body flexes, coiling over you. He snuggles in deeper, as if that was even possible. But you know Johnny. 

Any gap, any space, between your bodies will be sought after and conquered. 

His nose pushes into your pulse point, stubble chafing your skin. The weight of him is solid. Comforting. Johnny's hand curls around your ribs. You melt into his embrace. Soft, gummy. He's sickly sweet—your gruff military man.

His knee stretches when he moves, his hip nudging into you. 

He's naked. You feel the thickness of him twitching against your side. Wetness leaks, dampens your skin. 

You burrow your face into his crown, and catch the scent of gunfire and polymer that clings to the tips of his cropped hair. 

He didn't even shower. Stripped down, sleepy and jetlagged, and slipped into your bed. 

Nails rove over his broad shoulders until you're locked into some parody of a hug. You feel the heft of his bicep beneath your hands. The weight of his burning flesh over your body. Clad in only panties and a loose top, you feel the fever billowing inside of you. 

There is something intimate about waking up next to someone nude. A stark thing that settles in your ribs, clotting in the brackets between them. 

The flavour of vulnerability. Touches of domesticity. It leaks into your marrow, bringing with it something soft and tender. 

Illicit. 

It brims up. Buoying to the surface. A low-grade fever itching under your skin. The blunt press of his hard, leaking cock on your skin is nothing short of enticing. 

Your thighs part as much as they're able to with his weight on you, hand slipping out from under the pillow. You take a moment to run your fingers over his forearm, nestled snugly under your breasts. The weight of him makes your chest flutter. Heart seizing when he squeezes you tight to him. 

The coarse hair of his thigh on your navel feels good under your palm. Muscular. He told you once when he brought you to a football game that he used to play. Still does when he has the time. A group of his old schoolmates on a rare Saturday when everyone is around. 

You can feel it in the thick bulk of him. Years of practice, training. 

But now—

It's in the way. 

His thigh is too thick for you to slip your hand over. 

Your core throbs. The sticky press of his hard cock against you does little to abate the ache growing inside. 

A huff spills from your lips. His hair flutters. Another noise spills from deep within his chest when you push at his leg, trying to slip it down lower so you can sink your fingers into your aching pussy. 

It doesn't work. He tucks himself closer to you, and rocks his hips into yours. 

A wry twist of your lips. At least someone is getting off. 

You try again, wriggling. 

He moves, pulls his hand out from where it's caught between the bed and your chest, running his warm, rough palm over your skin.

The movement makes you pause, hand falling still on his knee. You went to bed late last night, having stayed up watching trashy television until the early hours. He must have snuck in sometime after. 

Your eyes skirt to the clock on the wall. It's barely mid-morning. 

He needs sleep. 

Did you wake him—?

He dips under the hem of your cropped sleep shirt, and cups your breast in his palm. 

"Johnny—," you breathe, just barely a whisper.

He groans low. Flashes fan over your collarbones. "Couldn't wait for me?" 

His accent is thick in the morning, groggy and flooded with sleep. You shiver, hips lifting slightly off the bed. You're stopped, of course, by the weight of him. 

"You took too long," you murmur, panting into his hair. 

He grumbles; the noise reverberates through his chest. "Sorry, bonnie. Got my girl all worked up. Needy for it."

His fingers brush over your nipple. The flash of pleasure makes your toes curl, his name leaves your mouth in a breathless plea. 

"I know, I know…" he husks into your neck. "I'll take care'a ya, bonnie." 

"Wanna make you feel good—"

"Nah, dove. Just be a good girl for me, aye?"

"Johnny—"

His fingers rub your nipple until your peak hardens, pinched softly between his thumb and forefinger. His cock presses into you—little cants of his hip that make you burn for it. 

It's been so long. 

Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulder. "Please, baby, I can't take it—"

His laugh huff across your neck. "Needy little thing."

His thigh slides off your waist before you can snap something back, lips pressing to your pulse. It makes your breath catch when you feel the graze of his warm mouth, his tongue; it laves over your skin, carrying the flash of teeth. A tease, a nip. Between the burn from the stubble, and the soft bites to your skin, your neck will soon be a mosaic of his devotion. 

Your thighs part, desperation pooling inside of you with each brush of his warm, calloused fingers over your nipple. You want it, ache for it—

"Fuck, bonnie." His hips rut into you, cock so hard you think it might bruise your flesh. It leaks prespend over your skin until you're tacky with it. 

Your mouth waters. You wonder if he'll taste of the beach—

Your head lulls, nose nuzzling his crown. "Wanna taste you later, baby. Missed having your cock in my mouth—"

"Steamin' Jesus, bonnie—," it's bitten off in a moan. A desperate rut. His fingers spasm over your breast. "Cannae say shite like that when I haven't had this pretty mouth in months —"

"You should learn to be quicker with the missions then." 

His teeth sink into your neck, and you sputter, thighs snapping shut to stem the deep ache.

Johnny's tongue snakes out, laving over the indents left behind by his teeth. "I come home to you as quickly as I can, bonnie."

Your voice is barely a whisper. "I know." 

He groans into your neck when he moves, his hand slipping out from under his body, and resting on the pillow. His head raises, your eyes meet. Golden honey, rich and thick and full of want, gazes at you from under heavy lids. 

His smile feels like the dawning sun curving over the horizon. A flash of teeth. His forehead drops, presses to yours. Noses brushing. You breathe in him. 

"Hey," he murmurs against your lips, the barest touch. "I missed ya, hen." 

Your hands curl over his shoulders, knees parting to let him closer. A smile, soft and gentle, pulls on the corners of your mouth. "Hiya. Missed you, too."

He ruts into the seam of your thighs, heavy cock sliding over your clothed cunt. "God, bonnie. Thought about ya always. Couldn't get you outta my head." 

"You say that every time you come home."

His head ducks down, muzzling his stubble against your cheek. You feel the press of teeth under your jaw. "An' I mean it every time."

"I'm already gonna fuck you, babe. No need to try and charm me into it," you taunt, nails raking softly down is back. A tickle. A tease. His hips jerk into yours, a groan slipping from his lips. 

"Charm? Oh, bonnie—," his voice is rich caramel, thick and sweet in your ear. "I'm just fuckin' crazy for ya, cariño."

You huff. "Cariño? That's new." 

"Sí, mi corazón." 

Your brows raise. "I love how even when speaking a completely different language, you still sound incredibly Scottish."

"Aye," he nips your chin again. "You can take the Scot out of Scotland, but you can't—"

Your mouth presses to his, catching teeth. "Just shut up and fuck me, already, Johnny."

His mouth captures yours, tongue delving into it with a groan. He tastes of thistle. Your breath comes out in sharp pants against his cheek. 

Your hand slides down his arms, reaching under to tug at your panties. When he feels you move, he laughs low in his throat, lips clumsily glued to yours. 

"Gonna pull 'em to the side for me? That desperate, mi reina?"

"Very," you breathe, eyes lidded and heavy. "I only had my fingers, you know." 

He looks good like this—bathed in the gentle sunlight, sunkissed from his adventure in Mexico—and leaning over you, eyes hungry. Right where he belongs. 

"Yeah?" He rasps, swallowing thickly. His hand follows the path set by your own, fingers curling under your knee. "Was it good, bonnie? Did you fuck yourself senseless and think of me?"

"It was good," you whine, back arching when his cock brushes your wet cunt. The head taps against your clit. "But it wasn't you." 

"Gotta give my girl a proper pounding then, aye?"

"Yes," you hiss, eyes fluttering when he takes his cock in hand, and thrusts it through your drenched folds. "I want it, Johnny."

"Push 'em to the side, bonnie. I need to be in your cunt, now."

Whimpering, your fingers hook on the gusset of your damp panties, pulling them back. Opening yourself for him, and desperate for it. 

"Wanna fuck you proper later on," he rasps, his cock nudging against your cunt. "But I can't wait, dove. Fuck, the things you do to me—"

You're not wet enough for it to be seamless, but it's been months since you felt him split you apart, and the burn, the sting, of him stretching you open all over again makes your toes curl. It rides the edge of indelible pain and pleasure; an amalgam of being both excruciatingly good and too much all at the same time. Overwhelming. Perfect.

Your legs hook on his thighs when he nudges the head of his cock inside of you, opening yourself wider for him to take. 

He breathes out your name on a shuddered rasp that makes your cunt clench, pulsing with the delirious ache of having him within you once more. Hair dampened with sweat, his upper lip is slick when he presses his mouth to you; you taste salt on your tongue when he licks into your mouth. Your hands roam his back when he pushes in deep, flushed against you. 

"Gonna move, coriño;" he slurs into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut. "Can you take it?"

"Give it to me, Johnny."

Before Johnny, you'd never known fucking could be so intense when it's slow; just languid rolls of his hips, his mouth fixed on yours, devouring you. It's not rushed: he isn't fucking you as hard as he can. It's—

Tender. Sweet. 

Johnny fills you deep, the head of his cock nudging something inside of you that has your nails digging into his shoulders, whimpering against his mouth. The slow drag of his cock sliding out of you has your walls singing from the blunt pressure. The torturously deep thrust back in, hips jerking lazily into yours. It all pools together, an endless coil of pleasure that makes you moan, that has you panting into his ear, begging him for more. 

The equinox of it all comes when he rests his forehead back on yours, noses pushed together. There is no space between you—face to face, chest to chest—and he ruts into you like this, his eyes molten suns, nearly blinding, as they gaze at you. 

Johnny makes you melt. Makes your veins pool with liquid bliss, your core tightening with each sharp thrust against your gummy walls, and every slow drag out until only the tip remains. He hits deep, fills you completely, and it's good—it's so good —but it's this you can't get enough of. 

The way he covers your whole body with his, tucked into every corner and crevasse until all you can see and feel is him. He shares your breath; each exhale is his inhale. Eyes fixed on you; dark lashes fluttering when you tighten around him. 

These moments with Johnny make your head spin—a realm carved out where only the two of you exist; where you meld together and become one entity feasting off of the other. 

His cock, heavy and fat inside of your pussy. Your hands running along his back. His mouth sealing over yours, panting deep and ragged until all you can taste and smell is him. Until all you can see is the caramel depths that gaze at you—love in liquid; flecks of affection in gold. His pupils blown wide from pleasure, nearly eclipsing the stunning brecciated hazel. His lids lower, cresting in euphoria.

He's close—you can feel it in the way his thighs tense, his back trembles; in the sloppy way he fucks into you, mouthing along your lips. Lost in a white haze of pleasure, and too drunk on the way you tighten around him to notice. 

Your nails dig into his shoulder blades when his thrusts become choppy, harder. Legs spread wider to take him, ankles crossing over his tailbone. You melt into the sweat-slicked sheets, body liquifying with each snap of his hips. 

His chin rakes over your cheek, stubble grating against the skin. He murmurs apologies into your ear, tongue dipping out to taste the mess he made of you. 

"M'so fuckin' close, hen," he slurs into your temple, the bulk of his upper torso sliding over you. You're trapped under him, forehead pressed into the column of his throat as he bends your knees to your chest. "Fuck—!"

The light catches on the gold chain around his neck. The cross swinging like a pendulum between you. It draws your eye, and fills your chest with a deep spume of inexorable affection. Something so mundane, but so him; a little thing he always carries, keeps with him. A little piece of familiarity after months of loneliness. 

Seeing it outside of just a bittersweet dream brings tears to your eyes. 

You missed him. The heavy cedar scent, the way he kisses you like he can't get enough of the taste, how he clings to you at night, glueing himself to you in a futile effort to merge together into one being, his stupid haircut—

"Fuck," you choke, head full of nothing but him. "I missed you so much—"

"Me, too, hen," he groans into your crown, fucking deep into you. "Fuck, bonnie. I need you to cum for me. Need to feel you cumming on my cock—"

His words congeal inside your core, pleasure rippling from the base of your spine to the tips of your fingers that you bury inside his flesh. The thick heft of him makes you dizzy, makes you feel that tight coil pulling taut with each sloppy thrust he makes against it. 

His body sags into you, head burrowing into your neck. The grind of his pelvis against your clit as you spasm around him, clenching tight as he works you up toward nirvana, rutting deep, and breathing heavy into your collarbones. Glued, once more, to you. 

Johnny holds you steady, firm. His whole body cresting over yours, and keeping you locked to bed. Under him. Sheltered from harm. From the ugliness he keeps at bay. 

My hero, you once whispered to him playfully in a pub when you first met. Coy and teasing and high of the confidence that comes with a gorgeous man looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel it, now, nestled deep inside of your chest. Your hero, finally home. 

It's the soft chants of your name, the choked-out confessional about how much he missed you, thought of you all the way on the opposite side of the globe, and now that he has you, it feels like heaven. How you have Nirvana nestled between your soft thighs, and he can't get enough of it. Of you. He's drunk off the taste. 

It's a slow ascent with Johnny. Never rushed, never hurried. He takes you like he's savouring you, like he'll never have the chance to again. 

(On your first date, he took you hiking.

And years later, it still feels like you're climbing a mountain.)

A slow, lazy incline. A soft, feathery descent. 

"M'goin' crazy fer ya, cariño—," he pushes in deep, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. His voice is shattered, broken. The fractures in his words, the hard roll of his hips pressing down on your clit, all push you over the edge. Head full of that white pleasure that dances in front of your eyes like little galaxies in the cosmos. 

The pulse of your cunt around him makes his hips grind into yours, cock twitching as he spills himself inside of you. A low moan slips from his reddened lips, and he stifles it when he catches your mouth, sharing it with you. 

(It tastes of sugared milk and cinnamon.)

He stays like that for a moment, hips rocking against you as rides himself through, your pussy clenching around him, milking him for everything—every drop. 

Thistle heavy on your tongue, his moan nestled in your throat—it feels a bit like waking up again. A yawning crest into wakefulness. A slow roll into cognisance. 

He pants against your mouth, and you can feel the stretch of his grin—a languorous, satiated smile like the sunrise in the winter. All dark, endlessly so, and then suddenly—

Johnny feels like dusk. The first breach of the morning over the lands; a sleepy haze of light eating into the tenebrose that shrouds everything around you. A steak of ochre, gold, in a world of darkness; the varicoloured smear of pastel clouds breaking over the horizon. 

Being with him is a little bit like cupping the sun in the palm of your hand. 

His eyes slide open—a slow, shuddering roll—and you see morning dew in the whites; golden rays in the hazel. There are shadows, proof of a hard-earned victory, but he is not the type to let it linger. 

(You're not the type to let him.)

Sleepy, dazed from pleasure, he grins again. Nose pressed to yours, heart thundering against your chest. 

"M'not leavin' again for a while, now," he breathes into your lips, nose sliding across yours. He nuzzles his cheek your raw flesh, already scratched from his stubble. His voice is naked bliss when murmurs: "and I intend to stay inside this pretty cunt all day."

You huff, head listing as you let him smother your cheek and neck in affectionate kisses, nips. "You need a shower. You smell like Price. And sweat."

Teeth to your pulse. "And sex. Your sweet pussy—"

"You need a haircut."

"Thought you wanted me to grow it out."

You pretend to consider, hands sliding from his back to the nape of his neck. "I want something to pull."

"You can." 

"It's too short." 

He's shaking his head, temple knocking into your chin. "Nah, you can still pull. You can steer me later when my face is buried in your—"

"Is that why you came home?" You tease, curling a lock of his hair around your fingers. "Surely there were pretty girls in Mexico."

His head lifts. Rising suns, molten honey, meet yours. "Nah, got the prettiest hen squeezing my cock right now."

"God," you huff, walls fluttering around him with each gentle movement he makes. "You're incorrigible." 

"M'a man starved. Kept away from my girl for too long." 

His words are teasing, but his eyes—

Your breath catches, and stutters in your chest. "Johnny."

"Can't get enough of ya, hen." He confesses, words muttered into your chin. "Don't plan on lettin' you go. Ever."

"You won't ever need to." 

His smile feels like coming home. "You can bet on that."

His hand reaches under the pillow, eyes playful. "Now, about you stealin' my shirts…"

Your cheeks heat when he pulls it out. "How did that get there?"

"You're a cheeky little thing, ain't you?"

You place your hand on his chest, lashes fluttering. Coy. Kittenish. "I just miss you sometimes, is all." 

His eyes are pockets of slate, chiselled deep with a heart-wrenching affection that blisters through you. "Oh, hen."

Open, raw. He descends on you, mouth catching yours. Kissing him is always intense, always—

He pulls away. A flash of teeth. A smirk. 

"But stop taking my good ones at least."

#soap x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod

[misscinnamonroll16]

More brozone headcanons

Some of these are a little more mature than others, read at your own risk ig

John Dory drinks his coffee black

Bruce likes his coffee sweet with a little cream

Clay prefers a little sugar, a little cream

Floyd doesn't really like coffee, says it makes him jittery. He drinks tea with honey and a little milk. Ironically tea can have more caffeine than coffee

John Dory is bisexual/bi curious. Floyd catches him checking out some dude and calls him out on it

Bruce flirts with every girl he meets but in such a way that makes them wish he wasn't married

Each of the bros have caught Clay crying his eyes out bc of a book. JD instantly goes to comfort him and he accepts it. Bruce tried to understand what he's babbling about and comfort him. Floyd hugs him and cries with him. Branch is a little unsure and just kind of awkwardly pats him on the back

Clay curses in Spanish, but incorrectly.

Jd can sew

Bruce and JD have an unspoken competitions for who can come up with the worse dad joke

Floyd's favorite show was (and still is) SpongeBob

John swears so much

Clay was a clumsy kid, so JD always had bandaids on hand and he still does.

John Dory has a sixth sense for when his brothers are about to do something bad

When they were younger, JD did that annoying sibling thing of flicking their ears over and over again.

John tried to use the preschool rope method for keeping track of his brothers, especially at concerts

Branch, Clay and John have so many scars

Clay likes origami

JD can handle his alcohol, most of the time

The rest of the brothers have a harder time handing their alcohol

Someone calls Bruce a dilf and only Floyd knows what it means, he starts wheezing

Each of the brothers reactions to finding out that they're going to be a big brother (for the first time). John was so excited and happy, planning out everything him and his new sibling were gonna do (as much planning as a toddler can do). Spruce was intrigued, staring at Clay's bright yellow egg, trying to figure out if he was gonna like what came out. Clay was NOT HAPPY about being a big brother, he liked being the baby. Him and Floyd did not get along for like the first week until Floyd puked on John, then Clay was like "you're not so bad kid". Floyd was absolutely excited to be a big brother, like John but more, he had his older brothers to ask about how to be the best big brother he could.

Clay tried to get rid of Floyd and Branch by throwing them away and flushing down the toilet, luckily he didn't get very far.

When they were younger, John Dory used his height to his advantage, holding things out of reach and using heads as arm rests

John Dory has given himself stitches, set his broken bones and dislocated joints. After a particularly rough adventure, Branch comes to him asking for help with his wounds. John is suddenly a trained medical professional, giving him wonderful stitches and setting his dislocated shoulder.

All the younger bros still look up to JD but you'll never hear them say it.

Floyd was (and still is) scared of the dark

John teases Bruce, saying he never got to walk him down the aisle at his wedding

Floyd becomes the biggest whore if left unattended and drunk, flirting dirty with every man he encounters. He's half naked dancing on a bar to some raunchy song. JD or Bruce prompting throw him over their shoulder and try and sober him up

Clay is a funny drunk. He's telling dumb jokes to whoever will listen, most of the time they don't make sense. Non stop giggling. But if motivated will do stupid shit

Clay accidentally hurts himself and as JD is patching him up, he jokingly asks JD to "kiss and make it feel better." John knows he's joking but does it anyway. "Does it feel better Clay?" "yes."

Bruce has called some of his kids by his brothers' names. The older ones have been called 'john', 'john Dory', and 'jd'. When they pull pranks (the most frequent one) they're called Clay. When they're crying for no reason they're called Floyd. The younger ones have been called branch. For a little while they didn't know who those guys were but after a while their dad opened up to them

Bruce's kids were so excited to get to know their uncles. Bruce didn't talk about them much so when they showed up the kids were eager but they were a little distracted

#trolls #brozone #trolls clay #trolls floyd #trolls bruce #trolls john dory #branch trolls #trolls headcanon #trolls hcs #jd being a softy

[keeksandgigz]

thinking of eddie helping you braid your hair when you’re getting ready to spend the night

made this about eddie and witchy because i cannot stop thinking about them- this is also for the anon who said they can't stop reading it (thank u hehehe)

fluffy fluff below the cut, witchy being jealous and thinking of hexing his exes <3

He had to drag you into his apartment.

In a hilarious turn of events, due to some kind of San Francisco strike, all metro routes were suspended and there was no way you were going to walk in heeled boots all the way to Twin Peaks.

"Why call an Uber, baby? You can literally come upstairs at mine" Eddie says, watching you huff as you read over the e-mail about the strike.

"No Eddie you don't understand. I need to be home. I have a whole ritual! And silk pillowcases! Why can't you just drive me?" you whine, hoping he'll fold to your requests like he always does.

He grabs you by the shoulders, giving you a tender look.

"Because, my lovely witchy, metro routes being down means there will be absolute pandemonium in the streets. And I'm not trying to stay fifteen minutes stuck in downhill traffic" he laughs as you follow him around the store.

He's still working, you got off an hour before and after walking around the vintage stores for an hour there wasn't much else to do. It's just him in the record shop, working the closing shift. You follow him around trying to convince him to drive you back as he puts back the vinyls in the milk crates, folds band t- shirts, and rearranges patches in the display case.

"C'mon, witchy, just go up. I have Chinese takeout from last night or spaghetti if you wanna cook, I'll stop by the hair place across the block to get you a silk pillowcase. Promise" he says, leaning over the counter to kiss your forehead he opens up the cash till.

"But Ed-" you whine, you've never slept outside of your apartment before.

"No buts, I'm sorry witchy. Now get your cute butt out of here, I've got money out" he says, puckering his lips, ready for a kiss.

You lean over the counter and give him a quick kiss before he hands you the keys to his apartment.

"Don't forget to call Lorraine to get her to feed Circe!" he exclaims before you're out the door. You roll your eyes, of course you'll call Lorraine, your neighbor, if Lorraine existed.

But he doesn't have to know you can feed Circe with a snap of your finger whenever you forget to leave food out in the morning.

So you groan and you go through the backdoor of the store to reach the small, dingy courtyard of his apartment. Second floor, apartment 5C.

This building is so old it doesn't even have an elevator. You reach the door and open it, the rattle of keys falling over the counter is the only sound that can be heard, along with the clack of the short heels of your boots.

You take your shoes off and go through his fridge. Day- old Chinese takeout, a carton of eggs and milk. Three cans of Sierra Nevada, a half- drunk bottle of Coke Zero. You open his freezer.

Honey walnut shrimp and fried rice from Trader Joe's, a bottle of vodka, and a tub of ice cream from the last time you were craving it.

You roll your eyes and pick up the phone.

"Hey Ed, you have jack shit in your fridge. Can you stop by the Greek place down the block? I’ll have a gyro with chicken and falafel on the side” you request, hearing his groan at another chore he has to do post closing.

“Baby the Chinese food in the fridge is pretty good, it’s from the place we always go to” he’s not very convincing, but he’s tired and now lost count of the cash he was counting.

“‘kay i’ll put an online order for it so you just have to go pick it up, sound good?” you ignore him.

“Ugh fine but I better get, like, the biggest kiss in return.“ he groans, but it’s true. He is a weak, weak man when it comes to you. “Get me the pita wrap with lamb and fries, and lemme also get seasoned fries on the side. Thank you witchy, love you gotta go” he says, hanging up the phone.

So you order the food and then sneak in Eddie's bedroom to change into something comfortable. Getting rid of that fine line when clothes felt too much like clothes, the stitching pressing into your skin, the cuffs of your sweater feeling a bit too tight against your wrists, your jeans too tight on your legs.

So you venture in his closet and steal a pair of sweats and a ratty black t- shirt. One of his many. You go to the bathroom and notice there's no mirror. This dude.

So you tie your hair away from your face and use the nice face wash you got him- which you're sure he rarely uses- and wipe the makeup off your face. You go look for a clean towel, 'cause God knows you will not be wiping your face with the hand towel sitting on the rod on the wall.

After your face is clean you plop yourself on the couch and watch TV to pass the time.

Thirty- odd minutes later a rattling of keys startles you. Eddie walks through the door with his arms full of plastic bags. He places them on the counter.

"Hey witchy, I see you've made yourself at home?" he says, as you walk towards him and bury yourself in his arms. At least he smelled nice.

"Hmmm missed you, Ed" you mutter against the fabric of his t- shirt.

"You missed me?" you give a little nod, followed by a hum. His heart beats a bit faster, it's nice knowing you think of him when he's away.

"Aw, witchy. I missed you too, are you hungry?" he says, giving you a sweet kiss on the head as he detaches from your grip and reaches for the bag with the food, taking out the boxes.

"Also stopped by the hair place, got you that silk pillowcase and some shampoo and conditioner to keep here. Doubt you'll wanna use my three in one shit" he snickers, and you blush timidly. He's not sweet in the way that he'll kiss you in the middle of the street, but he is for sure sweet in the way he thinks about you an embarrassing amount of times a day.

"Thanks Ed, you didn't have to do that" you say, and he blushes, the boy tinges himself pink because you appreciate him.

"Y'know, anything for you" he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he brings the takeout boxes to the coffee table.

You follow him and plop down on the couch "I was watching 'Sex and the City' while you were gone" you explain, biting into your gyro.

"Was Samantha being her usual crazy self?" he doesn't even know who Samantha is, but he thinks it's funny to ask you every time. You giggle as he puts on a random show for you to watch.

After an episode Eddie stands up and stretches.

"I'm beat, I think it's time for bed" he says "c'mon, witchy"

You rise from the couch and follow him into the master bathroom.

“I have a toothbrush here for you, I kinda uh-“ from his tone you can tell he’s embarrassed “I got one for here the first time you came over, in case you ever, y’know, wanted to sleep over” he says sheepishly, while you wrap your arms around him.

He offers it to you, it’s pink. Your favorite color.

“Aw, Ed. You’re so sweet, thank you” you say and you swear you can see him blush as you place a delicate kiss on his warming cheek.

This slice of domesticity taken away from the mystic vibe of your apartment really makes you wonder. It makes you think about a normal life, with him.

The way he washes his face like a madman (without face wash), letting the water wet his bangs instead of pulling his hair back, the way he ties his hair up before brushing his teeth.

You take the toothbrush out of your mouth "Ah shtill don' undestand why you don' have a mirrah" you sputter, mouth full as you spit the toothpaste in the sink.

"Why I don't have a mirror? Previous tenant broke it and my asshole landlord still won't fix it" he says, taking off his shirt. Your eyes linger on the lines of his back a little too long, bordering the line between looking and staring.

So you turn around and you try to braid your hair without a mirror, but to no avail, every strand seems to be three different sizes.

You groan in frustration as Eddie approaches you.

"Lemme help, witchy" he says, standing behind you and tending an arm out for a hair tie.

He divides the hair into three strands. Your hair is so soft between his fingers.

He wishes he could stall so that he could caress it for longer, but an impatient yawn escapes your mouth as his hands deftly get to work. Over, under, over, under-

"Where did you learn to braid hair?" you ask, feeling the way he softly holds each strand, making sure he's not pulling at your scalp. You don't see him, but a smile forms around his tongue, peeking out of his lips in concentration. Over, under.

"I had girlfriends before you, witchy. They taught me to braid my own hair" he chuckles, as you try to tune out the word girlfriends. Under, over, under.

He can see a pout form on your lips, he smiles.

"Why'd you need to braid your hair?" you huff, thinking of going on a spiraling rampage and hexing every one of his exes. Over.

"Well" he begins "one time, an ex braided my hair and it came out super curly, so I wanted to try it myself. Turns out it needs to stay in the braid for a while for that to happen" he shrugs.

Under, over, tie.

"All done," he announces, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Thanks, Ed" you examine the braid, flinging it over your shoulder "looks really nice" you say, and give him a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.

He gets himself into bed. His bed is oddly comfortable and his sheets smell of laundry detergent.

"I might have been washing my sheets every other day in case you wanted to sleep over" he confesses, blushing, as he lifts his arm, opening the warmth of his chest to you.

"You" you give him a kiss "are literally" another kiss "the sweetest guy" another kiss "in the history of always" last kiss.

He gets flustered when you call him sweet, because under the hardening exterior of black chains and shirts with exploding heads and hooded skeletal figures, there's just a sweet guy who loves you and wants you to like him for being himself.

"Just want you to, you know, have a good experience with me" he says, caressing your head.

"You get an 11/10 Yelp rating, can't recommend to anyone, though. You seem to be preoccupied with a really cool girl, and it seems it's going to go on forever" you giggle, as he smiles and gives you a kiss.

"Go to sleep, cool girl. Goodnight, love you" he says, before turning off his lights.

"Goodnight, Ed" you say, turning over so he can spoon you.

"You have to say it back" he whispers in the quiet of the dark room.

"Right, sorry. I love you too, Ed" you correct yourself and close your eyes, falling into one of the best sleeps you've ever had in your life.

The morning after, Eddie wakes up to his landlord bringing in a new mirror, his hair extra curled and all his exes blocked on his social media. But he doesn't have to know about that last one.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x witchy!reader #modern!eddie x witchy!reader #modern!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson au #eddie munson blurb

[metranart]

Mitsuya Takashi x Reader (Tokyo Revengers)(Shameless smut)(PART 2)

LINK TO PART 1 HERE! - Warning tag: nsfw, possessive!Mitsuya, naive!reader, first time sucking cock, teenage hormones ragging, cock-drunk!reader, pet names, unprotected blowjob, praise, creampie, out in the open, cumplay, sloppy blowjob, love confessions , teenage craves, hormonal minds out of control, cum swallowing, face fucking, heavy teasing, Mitsuya being cute little fucker.

-

Takashi Mitsuya wasn't lying when he reminded you that he was a dangerous gang member, as no other boy his age would look so intimidatingly dangerous from the ground.

You don't know when he put you on your knees, nor when he took his cock out, the only thing you know is that now he prodded your closed lips, smearing the swollen head against the cold flesh, precum coating it like a lipstick before ordering.

“Open up,” Mitsuya commanded with the little patience you had left him and you being the instigator that he loved, obeyed.

You didn't know why you pushed him over the edge so hard, but you just couldn't stop, not when he looked so frustrated and stupidly handsome when he was flustered.

You looked at him from your kneeling position with eyes full of defiance and feigned innocence and it made him loose the little control he had left. Fuck! The boy thought, fucking hell! He cursed under his breath, he loved you so much that he could cum on your pretty face right then and there, but he held back. You wanted milk, he would give you milk.

Smirking dangerously calm, his fingers caressed your face making you lean into his touch like a purring kitten, and without warning, he pinched your nose, restricting the air. Your eyes widened at his sly move, and he just smiled when you instinctively opened your mouth. 

Your cheeks turned impossibly red at the act that you had already seen him use against his little sisters when they didn't want to eat... the context was totally different but still, it moistened your pussy making the fabric of your panties stick at how enticing you found it.

“There we go,” you heard him moan huskily as he shoved that huge piece of raw, palpitating meat down your frozen throat. “That’s it, kitten.” He purred, eyes shutting close as he bottomed down, kissing the back of your throat, “—nice and full, ngh.... want me to thrust or you think you had enough, babygirl?” 

The lilac haired boy was just showing a display of power, he loved you and would never, EVER hurt you, but you do need to know he wasn't someone to tease, he wasn't all honey, he was dangerous. He was a violent gang member, not just a talented seamstress…. but you weren't just an innocent kitten either.

Your arms hugged his thighs to his immense surprise, and your nose nuzzled against his pubic hair, swallowing him even deeper. Mitsuya had to swallow hard, ironically.

Your pretty, watery eyes looked up, lips impossibly stretched, and cheeks hollowed as your hands linked into a knot behind him. Without losing eye contact, you slid his thick, long cock out of your mouth, saliva painting every inch until your lips kissed the head. 

“When I asked you to use me, I was talking to the gang member, honey,” you teased openly, ignoring the tears falling on either side of your cheeks, “do you think he can fuck my mouth before the bell rings?”

It was an open challenge, and as a member of the Toman, Mitsuya was used to answer and emerging victorious. 

“My beautiful, wonderful, naive little girlfriend,” tsked the eager gang member, “—I suggest you breathe through your nose.”

And without further ado, his firm hands on either side of your face pulled you again to swallow it, this time you only got halfway before you started choking, which this time Mitsuya ignored.

He began to fuck your mouth as you had asked, pounding those narrow hips against your face, a delicious back and forth that only became more exciting when his heavy balls hit your chin, gaging sounds echoed around the deserted and hidden playground, saliva falling down your chin as you struggled to keep it inside your mouth, your jaw would no doubt hurt afterwards.

“That's it,” Mitsuya praised holy driven, taking his cock out just for a couple of seconds to give you a small break, he palmed the phallic flesh, prodding hard at your tongue to get your mouth to water more for him.

“Look-” he pointed his thumb back through his shoulder. “There’s a slide there, do you want me to sit on it?”

Your loving and caring boyfriend didn't want your knees to suffer and in that position he would definitely take longer to come, lying on the slide he would have better access and control of your head.

You all but moaned before nodding your head. “God that’s so cute-” your boyfriend purred with a loving smile and then pulled you up into his arms to carry you to the slide, where he sat and place you on top of his lap. 

“Ain’t you just the sweetest thing to ever sit on my lap?” He said more to himself, even so, staring straight into your eyes, strong palms doing the gentlest of massages along the shape of your jaw, easing the pain away with every careful motion of his working thumbs. 

“Mhm, yes, she definitely is.” He agreed to himself flippantly, leaning to kiss your heaving lips heatedly, his tongue tasting himself and the ice pop in a mix of new flavors that only serve to roughen him up, making him feral again. 

“Enough pampering for the princess, back to work, sweet thing.” Obeying like the good girlfriend you aimed to be, you climb down from his lap, and cuddled between his spread thighs. Yes, in that position you were comfier, so thoughtful of him. Nestling his cock back into your mouth, let him palm your skull with both hands to use your throat as his own personal fleshlight. 

“Fuck- that’s good.” He snarled, deep and husky, watching his progress as he thrusted into your throat- nice and lax thanks to your eagerness to please him. Your hazy, now watery eyes stared endearingly forward, right up at his cock while Mitsuya fucked your face. Your boy studying your pretty, teary and flushed face with a pleased hum. “I think my girl has sucked dick before.”

“Hm?” you questioned; an eyebrow raised.

“-If I dip my fingers inside your pussy how wet would they come out, pretty?” You kept bobbing your head up and down his shaft, openly ignoring his accusation with a blunt shrug of your shoulders, making him laugh heartedly. 

“Well hot damn.” Mitsuya spelled between chuckles, pulling your face up to nestle into his lilac pubic hair. “Won’t have to train you too much then, yeah sweetheart?”

He said, before shoving his cock down your throat at a steady pace. "That's better." The gang member hummed as he kept thrusting down your cold throat, fucking the back of your mouth. “Fuck! The mix of cold and warm inside your mouth is something else-,” you choked around his length, closing your eyes- trying to concentrate. 

There was no way to close your lips around him as he shoved into your gag-reflex, making you drool over yourself. 

"Swallow, (Y/N)." He commanded, and you did so, swallowing around him, which in turn made him groan. The heat of his body grew, and he quickly began to open his shirt because when felt that it was suffocating him, your small hands without hesitation climbed up his thighs, up, up until reached his toned stomach, where you traced each sinful muscle with special interest, scratching and tracing the soft skin until there were little red lines as a devastating proof of your need for him.

You hiccupped, blinking back tears as the burning in your throat began to sting. Shakily, you held up your hand- and Mitsuya had the courtesy to pull back and allow you to rest. You could feel the pressure build- your gag reflex going crazy- Mitsuya pulled out of your mouth entirely, gently grabbing you head by the hair and wrenching your face up.

"What does my little cocksucker needs?” he grunted, landing his thick thumb on your dripping lower lip, “Does my princess had enough?" Mitsuya smirked, one of those dangerous smirks of his. "Nah!" she can take it...."

⭕️ READ THE WHOLE CHAPTER IN MY PATREON LINK (Also find NSFW art of this story and an animation) .... Plus, more stories of Tokyo Revengers and JJK, each with a NSFW art from scenes of the story, plus! 'tier rewards' like: voting poll privilege for future stories, couple pairing selection and kinky mood selection for the story and images, and my eternal gratitude for your support!!!

*REBLOG THIS POST and enter the monthly dynamic: FREE Commission of April. That's right! Reblog my posts and at the end of the month I'll make a random roulette wheel to choose the winner of a free commission. Don't miss out! You are a Reblog away from winning!

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PATREON LINK

#artists on tumblr #fanfic #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #mitsuya smut #mitsuya x you #mitsuya fanart #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya imagines #draken #mikey #smut #yandere x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #anime #anime fanart #imagine #fanfiction #mine #writers on tumblr #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev #tokyo rev smut

[fayesia]

Hiiiii, how are you today? I hope you're well and safe. I had an idea for mike I hope you don't mind. Imagine him being jealous of his own baby being breastfeed. Love your stories ❤

a/n: hello!! i’m doing very good, i hope the same things for u too:D i’m very happy to hear u enjoy my writing. Also i never expected my blog to contain things mostly abt mike schmidt but here we r, remember to send me any request (i’m trying to improve my smut writing so those types would be helpful but fluff is also fine!) and i will try get to them asap. hoping to be a lot better at this stuff once my holidays start in a week. ty for all the love so far, appreciating every single one of u beautiful individuals interacting w my account <3

fyi: this blurb will contain insinuations of sub!mikeschmidt, lactation kink, breeding kink (quick mention) baby will be referred to as “she” but rly whichever gender u prefer!!

You had finally finished putting your sweet baby to rest, as much as you loved the little bundle of joy, it was difficult for you both mentally and physically to keep up with the needs of her. finally having some peace and quiet you rested on the couch laying your head against Mikes shoulder while he gently rubbed your back knowing the aches you felt there. soft moans left your mouth as the feeling of relief swarmed through you, Mikes lips gliding across the skin of your neck, whispers of how beautiful and amazing of a mother you are reached your ears while you drifted into a peaceful rest.

This rest however, didn’t last long as you were soon awoken by your baby’s cries, Mike was fast asleep so you quietly padded your way to her rooms rocking her as you returned to the couch and began to breastfeed her. Mike woke up soon after silently watching you, later taking the baby to put back to sleep while you cleaned up.

“she didn’t drink enough, i don’t think she cried from hunger, god i’m so sore”

“it’s ok come here honey relax for me” Mike took your hands leading you back to the couch where he cuddled with you. He kissed your cheeks, lips and neck, hands moved to pull off your shirt. his kisses drew nearer to your sore breast where he latched onto a nipple.

He started sucking, moaning as your sweet milk filled his mouth, the liquid was like ambrosia to him, it got him more drunk than any alcohol. His ferocious sucking at your nipple was soothed by his tongue that lapped at any mess left over.

“god, don’t ever want you to stop producing milk, might just fuck a baby into you and get you pregnant all over again. Bet you’d want that huh?”

he exclaimed profanity’s while his hips thrusted against the side of your thigh where you felt a very hard erection forming.

“hmmm” you could barely respond, his actions against your leaking tits had you completely silenced, the only noise coming from you were quiet moans and pants as the area between your thighs became increasingly wetter. Mikes talk about impregnating you did nothing to cease the sensations, simply making your underwear even more soaked.

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader

[francesminos-tt]

Lucemond time travel fix-it au with a twist where a 11-year-old Aemond and his 30-year-old self switches bodies.

Older!Aemond is happily married to Lucerys. They have three children and Lucerys is nursing their youngest.

Youger!Aemond just got his eye gauged out. Poor boy.

It all starts at that fateful night on Driftmark. Aemond claimed Vaghar but lost an eye. The pain is too intense, the hurt too deep, the humiliation too intolerable, and most importantly, the indifference in his father’s eyes is too much to bear. As the maester is sewing his flesh back together, Aemond blacks out for a bit.

When he wakes up next, he finds himself in a strange place. He’s lying on a massive bed; the unique ocean scent tells him that he’s still on Driftmark, but the surrounding is completely different from mere seconds ago. Did he pass out longer than he thought? Did his mother put him to rest? Why is his face not hurting? What is the warmth on his left?

Aemond doesn’t have to wonder any longer, because the warmth shifts and Aemond hears a small yawn as he feels hot breath on his neck.

“Why are you up, Aemond?” A mop of brown curls emerges from Aemond’s blind side. It’s a boy, no, young man with soft features and sleepy eyes the color of honey wine.

Aemond doesn’t know him. Seven, he never sleeps in the same bed with anyone else. And he certainly doesn’t cuddle.

“Who are you? I demand you to get off my bed and identify yourself.” Aemond says, his voice deep and resonating, nothing like the voice Aemond is accustomed to.

This is NOT his voice.

The young man frowns, sleep disappearing from his eyes. He studies Aemond for a while before slips off the bed. The young man fishes an oversized tunic from the floor and throws it on. The tunic comes down all the way to the middle of his thigh, and Aemond belatedly realizes his companion is completely naked. So is Aemond.

“Did Aegon give you something nasty again? I am going to cut off his balls.” The young man spits, pacing around the room to light the candles.

Aegon, right, that’s a familiar name. His older brother is constantly horny and drunk which annoys Aemond to the core, but now he would die to see a familiar face again.

“Here. Drink some water. Does your head hurt? Do you feel like vomiting? I can have the maester prepare some tonic for you, or do you prefer some warm soup?” The young man returns to the bed with a goblet in hand. He offers the goblet to Aemond before leans down, pressing their forehead together to feel Aemond’s temperature.

Aemond’s breath catches in his throat. Never is someone so caring to him. Not even his own mother. Alicent is always civil and aloof. She is more Queen than mother to him. Aemond can’t remember the last time someone showed such affection and devotion to him.

“How do you feel? Talk to me, Aemond, beloved, you are scaring me.” The young man brushes a strand of silver hair from Aemond’s forehead, his touch so tender that Aemond doesn’t want him to stop.

“Who are you?” Aemond asks again, this time barely a whisper. This is a dream, Aemond is sure of it. Maybe the maester gives him too much milk of the poppy. That’s why he would have this strange but incredibly vivid and addicting dream. He is afraid if he asks the wrong question, the caring stranger would disappear and he will be left alone with pain again.

The stranger chuckles, as if Aemond just did something silly but endearing.

“I can’t believe you are so hang-over that you forget your own husband.” The stranger says. His eyes twinkle, small beads of sweat gives his skin an inviting sheen, and Aemond could see red bite marks scattered all over his chest, especially around his nipples.

“Husband?” Aemond repeats, rather stupidly.

“That’s right. I am your husband, Lucerys.” The young man kisses Aemond on the lips as he reveals the truth.

Aemond’s whole world starts to spin. No. It cannot be. This is merely a milk of the poppy induced dream. There is no way he would marry Lucerys of all people. The boy who just took his eye.

But, come to think of it, Aemond now sees a pair of big doe eyes, unruly curls, plush lips, full cheeks, and a cute button nose. All those features scream Lucerys to him.

“What year is it?” Aemond mutters.

“Are you sure you are all right, love? It’s 140 AC.”

And just like that, a 11-year-old Aemond somehow transfers into the body of his older self almost 20 years later.

Bonus:

121 AC, Driftmark

Aemond (turns to the maester): Can you look at my husband Lucy, eh, I mean my nephew Lucerys? I think his nose is still bleeding.

Everyone looks shocked except for Lucerys.

Lucerys (sniffles): Are you hurting too much uncle?

Aemond: It’s not too bad. Come here, you can kiss it better.

Lucerys (stumbles toward Aemond)

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #mpreg #time travel #fix it au

[slashers-and-rats]

weeping willow.

vincent sinclair x gn!reader | sfw |

rat chat: this was supposed to be a dacryphilia thing, but it got real too sweet, so now it’s just fluff. he deserves it.

the low glow from the scattered candles cast soft shadows along the walls of the workshop. vincent had never noticed until now, but the way they warmed the room seemed to add a near romantic ambience. he was always focused on his art. he didn’t usually think of things like love or lust, opting to use up the space in his head for his craft and the bettering of his skills.

in this particular moment, he could barely remember he was in his workshop at all. if you had asked him what his passions were, he’d merely babble out the name of his love. his true love.

you.

the scene was set. vincent was laid back on the cot in the corner of his room, tattered blankets and pillows crumpled under his continually shifting body. he couldn’t sit still. not when you were over top of him, perched with his waist between your legs, and your figure looming over his own.

he liked the weight of you. it felt right. something about the way your own body pressed down into his seemed to ground him in reality. you were an anchor of sorts, he supposed. if you weren’t sitting on him right now, crowding his space with your presence, he would’ve drifted into the ether. he already felt dizzy, overwhelmed by your being.

it’s what you wanted. he knew it was. he could see it in the way you smiled; he felt it in the way you brushed your fingers up the side of his wax face. you wanted him to be drunk off of you.

“has anyone ever told you,” you began, twirling a lock of his hair around your pointer finger, “that you are just so beautiful?”

vincent recoiled at the words. he tried to hide the reaction, but he was sure you had seen it. he shifted underneath you again, hands bunching up beside your legs, eyes peeling away from your own. no, he had never been told such a thing. why would he have? it was patently untrue. his face alone caused people to turn away in disgust. the only character he had ever related to was frankenstein’s monster, and that really told you everything you needed to know about how he felt about himself. he was everything but beautiful in his eyes.

“hey, don’t look away from me,” you tutted, pinching his chin. you dragged his face back towards you, forcing vincent to make eye contact yet again. for the moment he had looked away, he was able to take a deep breath and recollect his surroundings. but, the second he looked at you, that weight settled down on him again, and he was back to drowning in your vision. “you’re beautiful, vinny. absolutely gorgeous. you know that, don’t you?”

vincent let out a breath, one he wasn’t aware he had been holding, and shook his head slow. if he was one thing, he was honest. the truth was, he didn’t know what he was, but he knew it wasn’t good. the things he had done alone should have barred him from any positive standards, and he didn’t believe his appearance did him any favours in earning him good graces.

you observed him for a moment, and it continued to make him squirm. like an ant under a magnifying glass, he was burning up. emotions were something that he didn’t like to pay attention to. they went into his art, and were used for nothing else. yet, here you were, pulling them out of him. he didn’t like it. he didn’t want to feel.

you cupped his cheek, dipping a thumb underneath the edge of his mask. it made him flinch, almost as if he was in pain, but you knew better. you were gentle as you ran your finger up and down his jaw line, a smile returning to your face.

“well, i think- no, i know you’re beautiful. you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen, vinny.” your praise came so easily. it felt like warm milk and honey dousing his body. it had gone from scorching to a cozy warmth, your words wrapping around him like a cherished blanket. “you stand like a statue, all tall and strong. chiseled. you remind me of a willow tree. something about the way you hang over me. it feels magical. at least, to me it does… sometimes i think, in another life, you were some whimsical forest god. something people didn’t really understand, but they knew was special. something to be worshipped. do you understand?”

vincent did, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice that. your words had dug into his chest. he felt as though his skin was being torn apart, and all of his warm insides had been laid out for you to examine and speak on. he felt seen. it felt good, but in a painful way. moments like these, so gentle and sweet, also reminded him of those moments of sorrow, of being misunderstood and punished for it. it was a double edged sword, yet one he fell on with grace. he wanted you to keep plunging deeper and deeper.

his hands found your thighs, squeezing gently. he had to hold onto you in some way, otherwise he’d melt too far into his own thoughts, and he worried you might never be able to pull him out again. it all felt like too much. these were things he’d never heard before, emotions he’d never experienced; it was such a fresh wound. he was bleeding out, but you continued to drain him of all thought.

“you’re so talented. you make masterpieces. which is ironic, because i think you are one.” you giggled, sitting up to rest your hands on his chest. “kinda cheesy, i know, but… this is all to just say… i love you, vincent. i do. and i always will, unconditionally.”

those words were the twist of the blade.

he, without realizing, began having tears stream down his face. it was when your eyes widened with worry, and a small sob escaped him, that he did notice how much he was crumbling. he quickly whipped his hands up to his face, pulling the mask away so he could rub at his eyes while hiding himself behind his arm.

“don’t hide, vincent…” you whispered, pulling his limbs away so you could see him. he felt exposed as he wept. he could barely see through his smudged vision, and he tried to blink away the tears so that he could look at you properly. you helped by using your thumbs to swipe them away as they came, which, unknowingly, only helped to further his quiet weeping. “are you okay…? did i say something wrong?”

vincent immediately shook his head. you had only done right by him, that much he was sure of. you were too good to him, in fact. you made him feel so good, so oversaturated with joy, it felt like a pleasant suffocation. all the crying was was a release of that feeling, like a pot boiling over.

you seemed to understand, letting your peaceful grin come back. “these must be happy tears than, huh?” vincent nodded. you pressed a palm to his cheek, letting him push into it. his eyes closed as he focused on stopping his sobbing. “I’m so happy i can make you feel this… good, i guess? i didn’t mean to make you cry, but as long as it’s for good reasons, i don’t mind.” you leaned down, pressing a kiss to forehead. “plus, you look real pretty when you cry.”

vincent held onto those words, keeping them close to his chest. if you said them they must be true. maybe, he was pretty.

#slasher x reader #slashers #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair

[mushroomlupin]

Sirius' Surprise Party

Pairing: marauders era!james potter x f!reader

Summary: james and reader have been best friends since they were little. what happens when there's drunk declarations of feelings at Sirius' birthday party?

Requested: yes or no (please send me requests!)

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 1,499

James Potter was warm. 

He liked the band Queen and he wasn’t afraid to dance to his favorite songs. 

He enjoyed hot cups of tea with extra milk and sometimes cinnamon sprinkled into it. 

He smelt of broomstick wood, honey, and musk. 

The most important things to him were his family and his friends. 

His laugh could light up an entire room. 

Yes, James Potter had an invincible ego, but his heart easily matched it.

The good thing about being neighbors was that it brought people who were close by even closer. James was your best friend because of this.

He would aid in catching frogs in the rain, laughing whenever they jumped at you and caused you to shriek. The two of you would build only the biggest snowmen, with mismatched buttons for eyes and a wonky carrot for the nose. James would take his own winter hat off and plop it onto the snowman’s head. 

“There,” he’d say with a proud smile. “I think we should name it James Jr.”

“Why does it have to be your name? Why can’t it be mine?” you’d ask.

“Because, he’d never be complete without me!” he’d grin and point at the beanie. 

Every time.

You were thinking about that specific memory when you heard a voice.

“Alright, Y/n?”

You turned your head, seeing Remus descend the stairs from the boy’s dormitories.

You shrugged.

“Can’t sleep.”

He nodded.

“Same.”

He sat down by the crackling fire, making himself a cup of tea. 

“What’s plaguing your mind?” you asked him, straightening yourself on the Gryffindor sofa.

He sighed. 

“Full moon in two days. You?”

“Potions essay,” you lied.

He nodded once more, sipping at his tea and opening a book in his lap.

“If you need help with it, you can always join us in the library. Lily’s quite knowledgeable on Potions. She always comes,” he offered with a small smile.

You knew Lily was exceptional at Potions, she was the reason you were doing so well in the class. 

“Thanks, Rem,” you smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

You did your best to fake a yawn and stretched your arms. 

“I think I’ll try to go to sleep. I hope you feel better.”

He offered a smile in thanks before returning his eyes to the pages on his lap. 

You ascended the stairs to the girl’s dormitories, making your way to the room with Mary, Marlene, and Lily. You watched in envy as they slept, knowing you’d return to your tossing and turning. 

***

You woke up, your brain and body clinging to the one hour of sleep you got as you dressed yourself and made your way to the Great Hall.

“Oi!” you heard from the Gryffindor table.

Your eyes scanned the long wooden bench, spotting a standing James with his hands waving at you in the air.

“I saved you some toast!”

You grinned, taking a seat next to him and digging in.

“How’d you know I’d be late?” you asked.

“Moony said you were up in the common room late last night,” he said, concern clear on his face. “What’s keeping you up?” Your heart hammered in your chest.

“Nothing,” you were quick to say to defend yourself.

He looked at you, brows furrowed.

“Right… Well, hurry up, so we don’t get points taken away from McGonagall for being late,” he reminded you.

You finished your food, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in your stomach from nerves. 

“Are you excited?” he asked, grabbing your books and carrying them for you as you both made your way through the halls to Transfiguration. 

You frowned. “Excited for what?”

He gasped.

“Only the best house party of the year!” he exclaimed. “It’s Pads’ birthday today, we’re holding a surprise party for him tonight.”

You raised a brow.

“How does he not know you guys are holding a party for him?”

He grinned, pride wafting off of him like an aroma.

“We’ve been going along with a plan for days now, acting as though we have no idea it’s his birthday. Moony is ‘too busy with the full moon’,” he used his fingers as quotations.

“Yeah, but that’s actually true,” you interrupted. 

He rolled his eyes.

“That’s not the point!” He shook his head. “As I was saying, Wormy is ‘too busy with Herbology work’ and I’m ‘too busy trying to perfect a prank on Snivellus’!” 

“I seriously doubt he believes any of that,” you admitted.

He shrugged.

“You’d be surprised.”

***

By the time the party came around, James was right; Sirius truly was shocked. The common room was filled to the walls with people. He may have been right that it would be the biggest party yet as well.

But, you were too exhausted to have fun. After rejecting Lily and Mary’s multiple advances to get you to dance with them, you leaned against a tapestry, brooding as you held a glass of firewhiskey in hand. You watched in disgust, and honestly envy, as everyone practically got it on with each other; Marlene and Dorcas were snogging on a couch, Remus and Sirius were snogging not even five feet away from them, and there was a Hufflepuff couple getting handsy with one another next to them as well. 

You saw James talking to a younger Ravenclaw girl, who was twirling her hair in her fingers, and you decided that that was the last straw. You tipped your head back and emptied the rest of the alcohol down your throat, that familiar burning feeling residing in your throat and belly, before you set the glass down somewhere and made your way up to your dorm. Maybe you could at least get some sleep, you thought. You felt your body sway up the stairs and all the way to your room, where you sat down on your bed and immediately felt tears start to well up in your eyes and a choked sob left your mouth. 

“Y/n?” What now?

“Please leave me alone!” you begged, now fully crying into your hands.

You heard footsteps come toward you. 

“No way,” James sat down next to you, brushing the hair out of your face with his fingers and cupped the back of your head. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head.

“Everything,” you croaked. “I’m the only one in that common room that’s not feeling someone up.”

He stifled a laugh.

“Do you want me to find someone you can get handsy with? Because I will, you best believe I’ll make it happen.”

You shook your head once more, tears falling down your chin.

“I could’ve killed that Ravenclaw girl,” you muttered.

Your eyes widened as you realized what you’d just said.

“Amelia?” he asked with a chuckle. “Love, she was asking me about Peter! I was his wingman!”

You put your head in your hands with a groan.

“I’m sorry,” you pleaded. “I don’t even know why I’m getting upset about that…”

“Hey,” he tapped your shoulder, mentally asking for your attention.

You looked up at him.

“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t like the thought of you getting handsy with someone else,” he admitted.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m not Sirius… But speaking of Sirius, it’s his birthday and we’re having a huge party for him down in the common room!”

You shook your head, playfully shoving his shoulder. 

“I’m serious, James!”

“Happy birthday, then!” 

You rolled your eyes as he laughed.

“Fine, fine!” He put his hands up in defense. “No more jokes.”

You shook your head once more, fighting a smile.

“If you don’t want me to be with anyone else, and I don’t want you to be with anyone else…” he trailed off, “Then what does that mean?”

You shrugged.

“I suppose it means whatever we want it to mean.”

His hand grasped yours, fingers intertwined.

“Then it means whatever we want it to mean,” he confirmed with a nod.

Your chest felt full at this declaration between the two of you. 

 “James?” you asked.

“Yes?” he pushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

Your heart was going a mile a minute.

“Does that mean you can…kiss me?”

“Y/n,” his lips broke out into a grin. “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that my entire bloody life.”

He grasped your face in his big palms and crashed his lips against yours, your lips finding a smooth rhythm. Your fingers moved to tangle themselves in his brunette curls, pulling at them experimentally. He moaned against your lips, the kiss becoming deeper and more passionate.

He pulled away for a moment, his lips a shade darker and plump.

“I guess I did find you somebody to get handsy with,” he winked.

“Don’t ruin this!” you warned with a laugh.

“I can think of a way to ruin you,” he wiggled his eyebrows, bringing your lips back to his.

Sirius Black’s surprise party sincerely was the. Best. Party. Ever.

#james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x you #james potter imagine #marauders era #marauders era james #fluff #x reader #x reader fanfiction #marauders era fanfiction #james potter one shot #james potter fanfiction

[nishiyako]

Vulgar (NSFW)

Pairing : Oikawa x Virgin!Reader

Tags : Dirty talk/degration, blow jobs, vaginal penetration, fucking on a table, creampie

Summary : You're fainaly telling Toru that you're ready, you being vulgar really ticked him off so he chose to put that noisy mouth and needy pussy of yours to good use, who knew a pretty boy like him would have such a dirty mouth.

The first time you had sex with Toru was very surprising.

You and him did the occasional grinding, and the both of you made out a lot. Mostly wherever you'd be alone or even if there were people, he couldn't stay away from the delectable lips of yours.

"Toru, I think I'm ready." You said sitting across him at the dinner table, he stared at you, His pretty smile turned into a look of intrigue. Is this why you wanted to come over? He had done hook-ups with diffrent girls before you and him were a thing but you? You weren't as dirty, from what he knew atleast.

"Are you sure? You might not like what you hear." He said, you looked at him confused, 'hear?' You asked yourself, "I don't care, I know what I want and I want it with you" you reassured him. God you were adorable, you were so serious when all you had to do was ask.

"Toru, if you don't fuck me over this table right now I don't know what to do with myself" you exaggerated. Who knew you were such a needy whore, even if you were horny you didn't need to be so vulgar.

he moved his chair backward as he invited you to stand in front of him. He wanted to put that loud mouth of yours to good use. he pulled you down to your knees by your wrist. You were in between his legs as you saw his prominent bulge in front of you.

"Don't be shy, you wanted this, right?" He asked. It was rhetorical since he knew you wanted this. You pulled down his sweat pants as you started to stroke him through his boxers. You were heating up just being this close to him, yet you wanted him closer, maybe even inside you.

You pulled the hem of his under wear down as you gave him sweet and soft kisses accompanied with a few licks up and down his shaft. The suspense was killing him yet you wanted to savor any moment.

He leaned back as his arm reached you by your hair, he controlled you like a puppet as he forced you to take in his cock immediately. You gasped for air as he made you bop your head up and down to pleasure him.

"Is this what you wanted, princess? Suck my cock like your life fucking depends on it." He ordered, he even said it with a chuckle. you couldn't even talk back since he was so deep in your mouth, "fainaly putting that loud mouth to good use. Who would've thought you'd be enjoying this so much" he said talking to you like the whore you are.

You gagged around him as tears started to pool around the corner of your eyes, you sucked him as he controlled your pace and every part of you, as you got onto it you felt him pull you away from his shaft, you whined.

He carried you onto the table as you layed on your back, he pulled off your shorts and panties as he saw your sopping wet cunt, "God you really are a slut" he said with a sigh, "tell me, you want this cock?" He said, slapping it against your slit his voice all milk and honey. You nodded desperately. That wasn't enough.

"Use that dirty fucking mouth of yours" he said grabbing the sides for your face to look at him, you saw a sinister grin on his lips as he watched you with his chocolate colored eyes. Wow he was pretty but his mouth was so fucking filthy you couldn't imagine what he'd say once he puts it inside you.

"Please, I want it. I need you so bad." You whined and begged, "that's my good little slut." He praised for the first time. He thrusted into you with no warning, your moans were basicly screams of his name "yea you like that? I'm gonna get you so cock-drunk you can't think of anyone but me princess." He said as his thrusts only got deeper into you, he alredy was pounding your sorry cunt, you couldn't even adjust to his girth.

He pinned you down by your hands watching your whore-like expressions with the same sadistic grin he had on since the start. Your brain started to fizz as your legs trembled. Your speech was slurred, even you didn't know if you were talking or just making sounds.

"God, if someone saw you like this, what would would they think of you? Such a filthy slut just for me." He whispered into your eat, he really didn't stop talking. You know degrading wasn't your thing but his silky voice made it so much better.

He saw you squirm every time he finished a dirty sentence, you couldn't even respond back with a sentence all you could say was his name and how good he was fucking you.

"Cum for me. I know you can atlest do that you talentless bitch in heat" he degraded once more, all he had to do was say the word and you'd be gushing all over him.

He held you by the flesh of your thighs fucking you so deep your brain turned absolutely useless, the table was rocking back and fourth, squeaking from the movement you felt like it was about to break.

"I'm gonna..." you said stammering, God he made you feel so unbelievably good, maybe it was his filthy words which you know you shouldn't be turned on by or just by how good he's fucking you, didn't matter honestly. All you knew you loved every single moment.

He started to fill you up as he kept his sloppy thrusts the same. You felt your back arch off the table as he griped your wrists.

You begged him to stop as your legs were left shaking and dangling off the table, after a few slower thrusts he pulled out of you and watched the milky fluid spill out if you and drip to his wooden floors.

You loved when he'd call you your normal nicknames like "princess" or "cutie," but just him calling you ungodly names did something to you, something that you'd never want to admit.

#haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa x y/n #oikawa smut

[lovelywetdreamer]

King Sukuna's combines

Warning: He remind me of King Henry for some reason. He pussy drunk and got no backbone. He is human in this one.

💜 King Sukuna will be head anyone if they dare lay their eyes on you, his favorite combine.

💜King Sukuna believes God had blessed you with such beauty with your kinky curls, copper skin, and brown eyes that always resemble honey when the sun hits it.

💜King Sukuna admires how you can put him in his place. You're the only person with a backbone to talk back to him. Even his wife will keep her mouth shut and look down when he come around.

💜King Sukuna will only grumble and beg on his knees to have a taste of you. "Please do me the honor by letting me have you on my tongue. I don't deserve to be in your present, but please" he begged, holding onto your knees.

💜King Sukuna devours like you are his last meal. He coming up for air with your love juicy glistening all over his face. Once he catch his breath, he between your thighs ready for seconds. Long talented tongue sliding up and down your clit to your fold while his hands grasp at your breasts.

💜King Sukuna should next time order his painter to paint you riding him. It a such a beautiful sight on your breasts bouncing up and down, your pussy sinking in his dick from the tip to the base, and the way you looked down on him ordered him to open his mouth for you to spit in it.

💜King Sukuna will order his maids to fill your bath with milk and flowers. He wants you to bathe in the finest. He leaves the finest silk for you to wear and a nice headwrap. You are not just a concubine to him. You are his queen.

#sukuna #jjk #jjk sukuna #king sukuna au #combine reader #king sukuna x combine reader smut #smut #subby sukuna #jjk smut #jjk Sukuna smut #sunkuna x black reader #sunkuna x female reader

[half-oz-eddie]

One week after being taken in by Joyce and Jim, Billy's found it hard to kick his old habits.

He's found himself rather dependent on drugs and alcohol. So, he does what he usually does to deal with time at home— he gets high and drunk.

He always did it to numb himself, mind and body. So he wouldn't feel the punches. So the screams wouldn't sound so loud. So his body could still feel relaxed in frightening situations. So he could still sleep at night after facing the waking nightmare which was Neil hargrove.

He didn't need to do it anymore, but he still did.

Jim wasn't trying to smother the boy. Eighteen's still an adult, even if he's a kid in Jim's eyes. So he just...waits for Billy to eventually come home, hoping to God he doesn't have to go out looking for him.

10:30 PM...11:42...12:20...1:35...

2:32AM, Billy finally stumbles in the house, quite noisily. His keys hit the floor, he mumbles curses under his breath, he bumps into the coffee table because he's not used to navigating this house in the dark just yet.

He sighs in annoyance and just plops down on the couch. He's already feeling a little uneasy because he made so much noise.

Jim surfaces from his bedroom and sits next to Billy. He shines a flashlight in his face, answered by a groan and the quick reflex of Billy slapping the flashlight away.

"You're wasted, aren't you?" Jim assumes. "Joyce has been worried sick about you. I stayed up all night waiting because she sat by the window waiting to see you park in the driveway."

"Mmh." Billy groans. He's not coherent enough to respond, to apologize.

"How the hell did you drive like this?!" Jim questions.

"I do it all'a time. S'no big deal."

"It's a big deal. Are you crazy? You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"So what?"

"So what?! Billy! How do you think we would feel if something happened to you?"

"I'unno. I just got here. Wouldn't matter."

"It would matter. Jane loves you. Will and Jonathan really like having you here, and Joyce, psh, forget it. You're her baby, just like her other boys. She knows what you went through and all she wants to do is take care of you."

Billy whimpers in response before a soft sniffle can be heard.

Jim places a comforting hand on Billy's shoulder. "Don't cry, alright? Let's sober you up so you can say goodnight to Joyce."

"M'kay." Billy nods.

Jim makes him a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

"Listen. You don't have to check out whenever you come home. Things're different now. It'll be nice if you're present so we can feel like a family."

"You don't need a screw up like me in your family."

"We're all screw ups, Billy. We've all screwed up in one way or another, or been screwed over by life. That's what makes our family so great. We understand each other."

Silence filled the kitchen. The kitchen clock ticked and the lightbulb above them softly buzzed.

"Sorry." Billy finally said. "I'm not used to this."

"I know. You want some cookies and milk?"

"I'm not a kid." Billy rolled his eyes.

"You're my kid. And you can have cookies and milk if you want 'em."

Billy chuckled. "I guess I do want them."

"Atta boy." Jim excitedly opened up a pack of Oreos and poured himself and Billy some milk.

They'd eaten nearly half the package when they heard someone clear their throat.

They both turned to see Joyce standing in the doorway, her arms folded over her robe.

"Having a late night snack, are we?"

"Sorry." Jim apologized. "Did we wake you?"

"No. I was already up. I went to check Billy's room to see if he'd come home and...here he is with you, eating all the snacks."

"I'll replace the oreos." Jim promised.

"I don't care about the oreos, honey. I'm just glad you're home." She said, smiling at Billy. "I was worried you wouldn't come back, then I wouldn't know if you were safe or taking care of yourself."

Billy frowned. "I didn't mean to worry you. I-I swear I won't do it again."

"I hope not." She approached him and kissed his forehead, then snatched the oreo out of his hand and dipped it in his milk, before shoving the whole cookie into her mouth.

Billy laughed as she strutted away, bidding a quiet goodnight before returning to bed.

"I guess I'd better turn in too." Jim said with a stretch as he stood. "What about you?"

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna do the same."

"Goodnight, kid."

"G'night dad."

They looked at each other wide-eyed. Billy didn't mean to call him dad. Not this soon.

"Sorry was that...that was weird, right?"

"Not to me. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."

They smiled at each other before heading to their rooms.

Billy snickered at the pajama set Joyce had laid out for him on his bed. He hadn't worn a pajama set since he was 8 years old, but the red lounge pants and matching cotton shirt were so soft, and the made bed was even softer.

He didn't want to feel numb anymore. He wanted to feel the comfort of his bed, and the warmth of his loving family.

#couldn't sleep so here you go #abuse tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw #adopted billy #billy and hop #billy hargrove #jim hopper #joyce byers #ivy.doc

[ecoamerica]

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[xoioel]

➤ MENT TO BE

parings: tzuyu x 10th!Member Reader

genre: fluff, angst

warning; none

summary: Being new to all of the relationships stuff, Tzuyu thought you had left but in reality you were just cooking breakfast

note: very short but i love it so. Love my bias Tzuyu

-

Tzuyu groaned as she rolled towards the nightstand to silence her alarm. It was the one she only set to make sure she didn’t sleep all day on her rare days off. She wanted to make sure that she spent most of it with you. At the thought of you, she instinctively rolled back towards your side of the bed, opening her mouth to tell you to wake up. Her jaw hung open in shock when she didn’t see you in bed next to her. Her brow furrowed in confusion, making her sit up to find some sort of answer as to why you weren’t lying in her bed.

No text messages, no note, no sign of your things. She sighed defeatedlty, letting her insecurities get the better of her. She probably said something that scared you off last night. She figured that her telling you she loved you must have made her look desperate. Even worse, maybe you weren’t in love with her back at all and left her because it would be too hard to say it to her face?

Her internal monologue was interrupted by a loud crash that sounded like it came from the kitchen. She immediately sprung up, startled and wanting to investigate the scene. She hurriedly turnt the corner into the kitchen, and stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. There you were, cleaning flour up off the floor while the kitchen was in shambles around you. The counter was covered in eggs and milk, all the pots and pans were brought out from the cupboard, and something was burning on the stove.

“Ah, I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to wake you up!” you cried as you noticed her in front of you. “No, it’s okay. I’m kind of relieved to be honest.” she laughed, putting her hands up in her hair in disbelief. “What exactly are you doing?” You sighed, dumping the dustpan into the trash. “Well, I’m trying to make us pancakes, but it’s not exactly working out.” She gave you an affectionate pout, clasping her hands over her heart. Here she was, worried that you didn’t love her and abandoned her, when you were just in the kitchen making her breakfast. She felt so stupid, and a little bit guilty too. “Awh, you’re so precious Y/N! Let me help you…”

She put her long auburn locks up into a ponytail and approached your messy bowl of batter to make some new pancakes. She had apparently been making them for the girls lately, and had gotten pretty good at it. You had never really cooked them by yourself, you just wanted to surprise her. “You’re so good at this honey!” you squealed, wrapping your arms around her torso in a soft back hug. “Sorry I couldn’t make them myself. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” She giggled, flipping a pancake. “Hey, it’s the thought that counts! It’s so kind of you just to want this. Besides, it’s more special because we got to work together on it!” Soon your girlfriend had cooked up a huge stack of beautiful pancakes, and you were sitting at the table about to devour them. “I was relieved to see you here…” She said as she drunk her juice.

“Tzu?” you asked suddenly, stopping your knife mid-saw. “What did you mean when you said you were relieved to see me in the kitchen earlier?” She set down her glass of juice, eyes going wide at the table beneath her as she tried to think of what to say. Her fingers drummed on the table for a minute before she gave you a fake laugh. “Of course I just meant that I was happy you weren’t hurt… I heard a loud noise so I ran out and-“

“Tzuyu.” you stopped her, looking at her with a knowing expression. You reached forward and grabbed her hand, rubbing your thumb against the back. She looked at you with big, vulnerable eyes, completely frozen. “You didn’t think I left, did you?” She glanced to the side with an anxious smile, biting her lip. After she collected herself, she turned back to face you. “I didn’t mean to think poorly of your loyalty, I was just scared because of what I said last night.”

“What, that you love me?” you inquired, squinting your eyes slightly in confusion. “I said I loved you too though...” You said very confused. “Y/N please don’t be upset,” she pleaded, eyes growing glossy. “I know you’re not that kind of person. I was more looking down on myself because I thought I didn’t deserve you.”

“Hey hey, there’s no need to cry…” you hushed her, pulling out the chair to sit in her lap. “I’m not upset with you, I’m just worried that you don’t know how much I love you. Nothing you ever say could scare me. I’ll never see you as desperate just because you don’t want to be abandoned. Relationships are scary, I would be more concerned if you didn’t get anxious. But I promise I’m not going anywhere.” Her face slowly turnt up into a loving smile as she put her arms up around your shoulders to embrace you. “You always know the perfect thing to say.”

You rested your forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes. “The only thing I know for sure is that I love you.” You say very happily, “I love you too, Y/N. I think I just needed to hear it from you first.” She giggled, leaning forward to meet your lips in a soft, slow kiss. It was full of adoration and gratitude, and you could feel through the grip she had on your shift that she was trying to communicate how she felt about you with her actions. And of course, you understood her perfectly. That was what made you two such a perfect match after all! The both of you spent the rest of the day doing all of things you both love. Also going to you guys favorite stores and stopping at the animal shelter so look at all of the puppies. Going to Tzuyus favorite clothing store and your favorite stores aswell. You both are just ment to be…

© xoioel — do not copy, translate, or share my work.

#twice x reader #twice fluff #jyp twice #twice #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu #tzuyu x reader #valeriaa writes☆

[legoflowrs]

HII i was wondering if you could do some hcs like you did for Kyle and Kenny but with Craig?? No pressure ofc! 💗

HEADCANNONS

cw: drug use, drinking, smoking, slight nsfw

AGED UP TO 18 PEOPLE

a/n: hiya! so in the head cannons craig is with tweek but obviously in the relationship ones he’s with reader xx

i’m also in my craig era rn! hope u like this anon <3

Craig Tucker

- I’m a firm believer in Peruvian Craig!

- He was adopted by Laura and Thomas but Tricia is their biological child.

- Struggled a lot with identity issues when growing up because he didn’t know much about his birth family.

- Laura being the angel she is worked extra hard to make sure Craig was in touch with his birth culture. Took him to a lot of events and tried to cook the food to the best of her ability.

- Out of all the families in South Park I think the Tucker family is the healthiest.

- Craig decided to not put a label on his sexuality. He just wants to go with the flow and see where life takes him.

- That being said it took a long time for him to accept he was attracted to guys. He had a lot of internalised homophobia because of the culture in South Park.

- He was petrified when he realised he had feelings for Tweek.

- I think his family were his rock during this time.

- Still flips everyone off. He thinks it’s peak humour (dumbass).

- Plays football 100%

- Dies when he sees that Tweek is cheering for him on the sidelines.

- Has a touch of the tism (lol).

- I think he really struggles to verbalise his emotions so he sticks to physical touch and acts of service.

- I think he’d probably also plays violin he finds it super calming.

- Listens to R&B.

- Goes to the gym a lot it relieves his stress.

- Goes for runs when he can’t go to the gym.

- Gets a job at Tweek bros and all the grandmas love him.

- Tea drinker!! His favourite is chamomile and honey.

- Tries to do some boxing with Tweek. Gets beat up by Tweek.

- Plays Roblox religiously.

- Likes cooking but hates baking.

- Wears slippers in the house like a little meemaw.

- I think he’d sell vapes on the dl lmao.

- HATES school dances but his friends force him to go anyway.

- Might not act like it but would die for his friends, he has a super soft spot for Clyde. They have been bestfriends for years.

- I head cannon he would become a firefighter lol (i have a fic idea in my head like firefighter!craig and paramedic!reader lol).

- Is still super obsessed with astronomy.

- But absolutely hates astrology he thinks it’s so dumb.

- Will go to the planetarium very often.

- Still wears his hat all the time. But in high school learnt to style his hair so started wearing it less often.

- Smokes weed with Kenny.

- Takes his alcohol well but gets super clingy when he’s drunk.

- He would say he hates parties but somehow is always at them.

- He HATES reading.

- Prob had to be tutored by Kyle during high school.

- Kenny pierced his nose.

- Has a good relationship with Tricia even though they bicker a lot. He takes her for ice cream.

- Loves kids but they find him intimidating lol.

- Is really good at calming babies down (meow).

- Royal blue is his favourite colour.

- Got into the bad habit of smoking cigarettes after having a fight with Tweek.

- Would have sleepovers with Tweek often. They make breakfast together 🥹

- He starts doing media in high school and buys a video camera. Makes little montages of his family and friends. Probably makes them for his friends birthdays as well. (this head cannon is inspired by the fic “ladies and gentlemen we are now floating in space” on ao3, go read it bc it changed my life).

- Plays chess.

- Listens to classical music.

- Likes hiking and discovering new trails.

- Guilty pleasure is Dolly Parton!!!!

- Avid milk drinker makes fun of others for drinking alternative milks.

- Grows flowers and gives them to Tweek. It takes ages cause he always forgets and they end up dying.

- Only drinks room temperature water.

- He has so many tattoos that Tweek designed (my head cannon is that Tweek is really good at art).

- Fucker is tall. 6’2!!!

- Is pretty defined from all the physical activity he does.

- When he’s older he rides a motorcycle.

- Exclusively wears converse. All his friends draw and write on them.

Craig in a relationship

- Okay let’s get down to business hehehe.

- Once again my major head cannon is firefighter!craig and paramedic!reader.

- He is super affectionate with you because that’s how he verbalises his love for you.

- Will do little things for you like tie your shoes or refill your water bottle without you asking.

- Absolutely froths when you wear his letterman jacket.

- He loves linking pinkies with you.

- He has a polaroid of y’all in his phone case.

- You guys have sleepovers often!

- You, him and Tweek go on day trips together.

- He’s not the best at consoling you when you’re upset but he really tries

- Y’all play Roblox together.

- He sends you gym gain updates (meow).

- Loves when your head is on his chest, he strokes your hair.

- Y’all always share headphones whenever you go anywhere.

- You are his passenger princess!!!

- He’s pretty experienced with sex. Loves making you feel good!

- Will hold your hand during sex he finds it super intimate.

- Is super insecure that you’ll leave him for someone who’s better at dealing with their emotions.

- I think he might have a tendency to blow up during arguments. He kinda shoves his feelings down so it all comes out during arguments.

- Goes for a run after y’all fight.

- Also head cannon that he will be super protective over you if you’re pregnant 🥹

- Would love to have a mini version of you guys running around.

- Likes to stargaze with you in the back of his truck.

- Y’all go camping together and roast s’mores on the fire.

- You beg him to go midnight swimming. He caves cause he can’t say no to you.

- Bends down to give you kisses.

- Loves holding your waist or hips.

- Holds your face in both his hands and gives you tender kisses on your nose.

- Will literally body slam you on the mattress cause he thinks it’s hilarious.

- You guys and Tweek have movie nights super often.

- When he falls in love he’s in deep.

- Will propose to you under the stars.

- Makes a video of all your friends saying happy birthday and a heartfelt message from him. Makes you cry for hours.

- Will pick you up when he hugs you.

- You braid Tricia’s hair and go get your nails done together.

- His parents adore you. Laura is a second mum to you.

- All in all Craig is super in love with you 10/10 boyfriend.

#south park x reader #craig tucker #craig tucker x reader #craig tucker headcannons #south park creek #south park headcannons #meow meow i love him

[mask131]

The Dionysos gallery (2)

Next on our travel down the Dionysos museum, we have an entire section dedicated to the Bacchanals in painting - with a few analysis here and there.

Titien's The Bacchanal of the Andrians

The Museum's website adds that this depicts the legend of how Dionysos gifted the inhabitants of the island of Andros with a river of wine. It was one of the numerous "miracles" attributed to the god by folk-belief when he became the god of the grapevine. Already in his "Bacchants" Euripides had told how, by touching a stone with his thyrsus he created a stream of fresh water, and where his narthex had touched the ground a stream of wine flowed ; and those that sought milk only had to scratch the ground near the god to see it flow, and from the god's thyrsus honey dropped...

In Ionia, on the island of Teos, a similar legend existed: it was said, by Diodor of Sicily and Pline the Elder, that at a fixed date in a calendar a stream of wine regularly flowed. At Elis, on the eve of the god's feast-day, empty jars and jugs were sealed and left alone in Dionysos' temple: by the morning, when they were opened, they were filled to the brim with wine.

Giovanni Bellini and Titien's The Feast of the Gods

The museum adds this mention: the painting is a depiction of the legend of Lotis collected by Ovid. One night, as the gods had a feast, the nymph Lotis fell asleep. Priapus got close to her, and with his famous ithyphallic nature, he decided to rape her. But as he was about to touch her body, the donkey of Silenus started making loud noises - waking up everybody, including Lotis. Lotis fled from Priapus' embrace, and all the gods laughed and mocked the god.

This painting was most notably the favorite painting of Fernand Botero.

Dosso Dossi's Bacchanal with a drunk Silenus and Bacchants frolicking around grapevine

Niccolo Frangipane's Bacchanal

Nicolas Poussin's Bacchanal

Nicolas Poussin's Bacchanal with a guitar player ; also called "Great Bacchanal"

Nicolas Poussin's Bacchic Scene

Pier Francesco Mola's Bacchus supervising the Satyrs pressing wine

Gerrit van Bronckhorst's Bacchanal with Silenus

Jacob van Loo's Scene with Bacchants

Michaelina Wautier's Bacchanal

Jacques Jordaens' Bacchanal

Giulio Carpioni's Bacchanal

Michel-Ange Houasse's Bacchanal

Francesco Zuccarelli's Bacchanal

#dionysos #the art of the myth #dionysus #bacchanal #the dionysos gallery #silenus #bacchants #greek mythology #painting #art

[breelandwalker]

Imbolc 2024

First proper Imbolc celebration in the new house. Last year was a little meh because we were in the middle of moving and dealing with a family crisis, so I wanted to make sure I got back in the habit of making an offering and saying a little something on the morning of Feb 2nd. (I know some people celebrate Imbolc on the first, but I do it on Candlemas / Groundhog's Day because of reasons.)

It was sunny and fair this morning, so we'll likely have that six more weeks of winter, which is what I was hoping for. (Yes I know the groundhog said something different, go home Phil you're drunk.) I prepared a simple offering of dried oats, milk, honey, and mead and put it out in our backyard. Then I faced east and just had a little chat with my patron goddess, thanking Brighid for watching over us and asking for some simple blessings of health and safety and inspiration.

Just as I was finishing, the sun came through the trees and I could feel it on my face. Reminded me very strongly of another day some years ago in a certain garden in Kildare when my husband proposed, and just as we were embracing, the sun came through the trees and shone on the two of us.

As I was putting the mead and honey bottles away and getting ready to leave for work, I noticed that the neighbor's cat had appeared at our back door, like she was there to participate. She probably heard me out in the backyard and came by to see if she could beg for some treats...which of course she got because I'm a pushover. (Don't worry - Havoc and Penny got treats too!)

On my way to work, with appropriate pagan music playing, I started to notice robins EVERYWHERE. Not just one or two as usually happens sometime in February, but over a dozen. They were not out yesterday or anytime in the previous week, and I've been looking for them. I'm fully aware that this is 99% likely to be because of climate change, but given that it happened on Imbolc morning, it feels like a good omen.

Note to self: Pick up birdseed.

Happy Imbolc, everyone!

#witch community #pagan #Imbolc #life and times of a cottage witch