#it's just that there's no algorithm pushing it in front of you.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Sweatpants (Frank's version) ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: this is just an exploration in thirst (and smut) similar to the blurb I wrote for Matt, about slutty grey sweatpants. I want to lick him.

A very sweaty man, oral sex (m and f), come eating. E. Also, PLEASE, PLEASE reblog if you enjoyed, likes are nice, comments even better! There is NO algorithm on Tumblr, reblogs are how things are found on your dash! Thank you so much 💕

This isn't fair.

Yeah, it's hot, but it still isn't fair.

You'd long abandoned any notion of working out while you were at Fogwell’s tonight, Frank unknowingly saw to that. Your kettlebells lay off to the side, long forgotten. Your initial warm up would never have gotten you as heated inside as you are now, seeing what you're seeing.

Those goddamn grey sweats he's wearing are barely hanging on to his hips. You're sure they're actually screaming out to you for help.

Take us off, they seem to be whispering. You're honestly surprised they haven't yet fallen down of their own accord with the way he's been swiping hard at the punchbag for the last half-hour.

He performs the same routine over and over, several powerful jabs, hooks and uppercuts and then he'll back off, doing a little lap of the ring to reset himself. And every time you get a glorious view of his bare upper body, the way the sweat glows on his taut pectoral muscles, the way his abs flex as he moves, the gorgeous curve of his stomach, framed by the defined V lines leading your gaze all the way down from his swaggering hips as he strides past you.

Good God. His ass looks amazing too.

When he bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet you can't help notice something else bouncing up against the slack fabric of those fucking ridiculous sweats of his…

Your mouth is practically hanging wide open now. You blindly reach for the bottle of water next to you to quench your thirst, knocking it over and spilling some in the process.

It's just not fair.

He must know. He must. He's gotta know what all this is doing to you, how can he not?!

Your eyes lock onto an innocent bead of sweat, following as it slowly trails its merry way down his heaving body to the sweatband of his pants, soaking into the soft fabric where you know it'll leave that musky scent you just want nothing more than to bury your nose in.

You bite down so hard on your bottom lip you're beginning to wear a divot into it.

It's insane. They're slung so criminally low on his hips that you can almost see where his happy trail is leading, the dark fuzz drawing your eyes down again toward-

“You alright?”

That gruff, grizzled voice of his knocks you out of your reverie. Are you?

You resemble a doped up kitty that's just returned from the vet, your eyes wide, dark, and spaced out as he's suddenly very close to you right in front of your face. He's pulling off his hand wraps and leaning across to grab some water from the bag that's lying open on the bench next to you.

He smells so good.

You can feel the heat from his worked muscles radiating off him, can almost taste the fresh sweat off him, absently licking your lips again as you watch him run a hand up over his damp forehead and through his hair.

“Y-yeah?” When you eventually reply he cracks a smile that definitely ruins your panties, as if they weren't ruined already.

“Okay. M'gonna hit the shower.”

Oh

Oh no.

No no no, you can't have that.

“W-wait!” You stutter out, and you're on your feet, somehow the keys to the gym that Matt had left with you are grasped in your hand, and in a blur you're locking the door, pulling down all the blinds and you've got your fingers splayed over his chest trying to push Frank down onto the mat on the floor.

“Whoa, okay mama. It's like that is it?” Frank huffs out a chuckle but he goes exactly where you want him to, still catching his breath as you straddle his hips.

“...you're evil,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over and around his nipples and watching how the muscles under your nails twitch as you draw them down to your target.

Frank looks up at you with that confused puppy expression with his brows almost crashing into each other that always melts your heart, but this time it's just making you even more determined.

“Evil huh? Shit. What have I done now?”

“Driving me crazy…”

“C'mon sweetheart, you gotta give me a clue or somethin’.”

You pull teasingly at the damp elastic waistband of his pants, “These.” you muse, letting it snap back against his skin then lowering yourself to lick slowly along the deep groove at his hip. Your eyes shut as you finally get the sweaty, musky taste of your man on your tongue. A soft grunt leaves him as he cranes his neck to watch, his dick already showing interest too as your mouth makes it way lower. He reaches down, his hand just resting on your shoulder, fingers tapping lightly to get your attention.

“H-hey darlin’, not that I don't appreciate it but… we doin’ this? Here? Now?” Frank asks with a very slight nervousness. It's freaking adorable.

You look up at him through your eyelashes knowing he'll fold soon enough. “Yeah we're doing this here and now, Frankie. I already told you - you're driving me crazy, and you were distracting me so much that I still need to workout.”

He smirks and you can see him start to get more comfortable with the idea of some naked shenanigans with you in Matt's gym.

“All because of these pants?” He asks.

“All because of those pants,” You reply, curling your fingertips around the waistband of them again. “along with the way you look like a giant snack in them.”

Frank scoffs, but lays his head back down and lifts his hips up as you tug at the ‘problematic’ pants to pull them down. Predictably, as discerned from your earlier observations, and much to your delight, he's gone commando today. You hum as his fully erect cock is freed, slapping against his stomach with a delicious smack.

“Fuck, Frank…’ you say, taking in the rare sight of him laying almost prone for you.

What to do…

“Hey princess, you're the boss.” He says perceptively, waiting so patiently for your lust-addled brain to decide whether you want to stuff your mouth or pussy with him.

It's a much easier decision than you thought, relishing in the familiar, quiet curses Frank is making as you start to work your way back up his thick, muscular legs, placing kisses wherever you want. When you reach his groin, you nose at the thatch of hair around the base of his cock, idly stroking and gently cupping his balls.

“Mm, I'm the boss.” You repeat back at him, smile sweetly as he grins at you.

“Yeah, that's right, oh shit-”

He makes a choked sound in the back of his throat and his cock twitches as you move your lips to the base, your tongue sneaking out to kitten lick his ball sac, gradually moving upwards, starting to trace along the thick vein that runs the salty length of his perfect dick.

You listen and are rewarded with the soft, low moan that comes from his throat when you keep going, the flat of your warm, wet tongue lapping underneath the head. He throbs again, a drop of precum beading and ready to leak from his slit.

“You're so good for me, Frankie.”

He's got those deep brown eyes trained hard on you, licking his lips, his chest rising with the deeper breaths he's drawing. They only increase as you wrap your fingers to grip around the base of him and then swipe and swirl your tongue to taste him. He moans, biting down his lip as you take him into your mouth, sealing your lips around his girth. Having him, the man the rest of the world only knows as the Punisher, his pleasure at your mercy, is maybe the most powerful feeling in the world. Or maybe that's when you have your own thighs wrapped around his head. It's a tricky one to answer.

“Fuuuck, sweetheart…” Frank hisses out, his hands self-restrained by his sides, “Mm, jesus christ!”

You hum around him as you pull your lips back to his tip before taking him as deep into your throat as you can manage, your hand working the rest of him. You repeat the motion, spit dripping down to his length and over your fingers helping your squeeze and twist, feeling the way he's almost shaking beneath you.

“God damn you're so good, so damn good to me baby.”

Your free hand switches between reaching up to dig your nails into the meat of his pectoral muscle and sliding down between his legs to gently tug and tease his balls. He groans loudly, you'd made a point in the past of making it known to him just how much hearing the sounds of his pleasure turns you on, and he had gradually rewarded you with more and more feedback.

You're almost entirely focused on him but now you can no longer ignore the incessant ache at your core. You're slick from almost an hour of getting yourself worked up at the sight of Frank boxing, still sucking and licking the length of his cock as you slip your hand into your leggings and under the soft fabric of your underwear. You moan around him as the pads of your fingertips slide over your clit, aware that Frank is propping himself up on his elbows to watch you.

“You want my mouth, mama? C'mon an get up here. Sit right here baby, let me take care of you.”

You release him temporarily to shuck off the clothes from your bottom half because you cannot refuse an offer like that.

He curls his arms around your bare thighs as soon as you straddle him facing towards his feet, pulling you straight down onto his hungry mouth without delay. You grind down to meet him as he laps at your glistening cunt, a wavering moan leaving your lips as you reach again for his rock hard, weeping red cock. You stretch your tongue out to lick and suck what you can, jerking him off as he devours your pussy like it's his last ever meal.

This was supposed to be all about him but as usual he's managed to flip the script and somehow make it all about you. You're hardly complaining, no. In fact you're riding Frank's face hard as his encouraging moans vibrate right through your core. He loves going down on you, could even say he lives for it, inviting you to sit right on his face almost every time you're intimate with each other.

Now that he's not snug in your throat he bends his knees and starts to thrust his hips up against the direction of your firm strokes, driven by the way you're grinding and rocking your own more quickly, completely covering his mouth and chin with a sheen of your arousal. You concentrate the tight circle of your forefinger and thumb just under the fat, wet head of his cock, twisting and squeezing up and over because you know that's what gets him panting and praising you. More salty pre trickles out and you eagerly lap it up.

You yelp as Frank thrusts his tongue as deep as he can inside you, fucking you with it before he nudges forward again, slurping and sucking at your puffy clit. The tightness and tension of your impending release is gathering pace as you hear how feral Frank sounds between your legs. You can barely keep a rhythm with either hips or hands but it doesn't seem to matter as you can tell he's as close as you are. You're half worried you'll smother him with the ferocity and strength with which he's holding you so close to him, as if he needs you to breathe.

Suddenly, the tension snaps, hard. His tongue making you cry out, your legs shaking underneath your wildly undulating hips as you climax, calling out his name repeatedly like a prayer, the sound reverberating around the gym. Your hand is barely moving on his cock but it's you quivering and moaning in ecstasy right on his face that sets him off. He's tapping his fingers against your hips in warning, as very quickly afterwards his own hips jerk up and with a muffled groan against your pulsing pussy, his cock spurts its creamy load. You catch some on your waiting tongue, the rest dribbling warmly on your fingers and down onto his tensing stomach and abs.

After a brief moment getting your bearings and breath back, you're both humming, satisfied, and softly laughing with each other. He supports you as you gingerly lift your leg over his head and turn yourself around to face him. He's licking his lips, the biggest smile on his gorgeously wrecked face, his eyes half-lidded as he pulls you down to him for a languid kiss, tasting each other on you as your tongues slide over one another. At the same time you're trying to find somewhere to place your come-covered hand so it doesn't go everywhere and you don't lose your balance.

“Mmm, okay you can't tell me that wasn't fun.” You say, and then your lips turn down as you remember something vital.

“Shit.”

Frank looks up at you, his expression one of concern. “What's wrong?”

“Urgh, Matt will know. He'll know even if we clean the mats and everything!” You groan again, wiping off your messy fingers on Frank's discarded sweatpants. “He won't let this go, we probably won't be allowed back in the gym!”

Frank just shrugs, a damn sight more relaxed now as he cleans himself off with them too.

“I'm pretty sure Murdock's done way worse in here. He aint that pure."

His lips curl into a grin. "Anyway, don't know ‘bout you, but I'll be puttin’ the blame on these pants. More trouble than they're worth, ain't that right, sweetheart?”

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle in sweatpants #smut

[neverendingford]

.

#color says shit #this is about the twitterpocalypse and tumblr getting weird about it #do y'all realize that these communities have existed on tumblr already. it's not all superwholock and quirky tumblr U #Christians exist on tumblr. Maga-heads exist on tumblr. alt-right exist on tumblr. #it's just that there's no algorithm pushing it in front of you. #without that unifying algorithm tumblr remains disparate social circles that are very clear and easy to map out #which is what I love about it. you can see the web of social dynamics so clearly because there's no hand of god pushing anyone forward #but to condescend and try to get Twitter users to go through Tumblr U orientation so they know about your ten year old memes is blind #unless you're following tags. you won't see any of the new people until people you follow reblog that shit. #entire groups and cultures can live and die next door and you won't notice shit because their posts simply do not circulate to you #anyway not that any of you care. and that's alright. maybe I just need to curate my feed so I stop seeing people be dumb about it #our glorious hellsite. their hideous tweetbook. you know the drill #saw someone try and throw in that classic opinion that reddit is the worst. like 'at least it's not redditors immigrating' like bruh stfu #internet xenophobia is fucking hilarious but I'm kinda tired of laughing #tumblr isn't the only goddamned place that has inside jokes #it's just tumblr nationalism #this feels like one of those posts that I could make actual text and then use the appropriate tags to get some traction but idgaf #I don't need a bunch of people agreeing with me. I just want to complain #I would absolutely love to hear opinions though. other people's experiences are cool as shit #that 'not that any of you care' wasn't meant to be passive aggressive it was a 'I don't expect you to feel strongly about this'

[tsugacanadensis]

i can’t stress this enough: if you routinely find yourself getting into slapfights like this, go outside go outside go outside go outside delete twitter go outside stop tweeting get off twitter go outside get off twitter go outside go outside!!!!!

#NOBODY talks like this in real life #this shit ONLY matters on twitter #and if you do encounter it irl you can just walk away! #there are no algorithms designed to engage you by pushing stuff that will make you angry in front of your face #ash.txt

[lazypanartist]

Hobie Brown x Artistic/DIY Reader

Y'all are already EATING TF out of part one. Anyways. Here more of him ❤️💙

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Warnings: maybe spoilers for ATSV, IDK. Reader's in the punk scene and from Hobie's universe. Whole lotta projection. Canon-typical injuries

Features personal Hobie HCs I guess. It's just self indulgent (and for the rest of y'all too I guess)

Please RB, likes alone don't do anything for the algorithm!

-----

You don't even need to turn around to know he's there. The smallest footsteps led from your window, a tiny breeze brushing the side of your face.

"Spidey."

You finally glance up when he huffs, sketchbook forgotten as you catch sight of a new gash along his chest.

He waves off your attempt to look at the area.

"'S fine, luv. Just a scratch."

"Just a - for the love of - ugh!"

You drag him onto the couch as you brush past, a quiet laugh meeting your ears as you rummage through the medicine cabinet around the corner.

"It's really not that 'orrible!"

Even with his protesting, he shrugs his jacket off with a wince, pulling the top of his suit up so you can access the newest wound on his torso.

He can vaguely hear you scolding him, telling him that the city needs him to be less wreck less, but he has one little, uninterrupted train of thought:

This is NOT how he wanted this to go.

The original plan was simple: show if like he'd done a time or twenty, tell you that he trusts you enough for something, then wham! Mask off!

But no. Here he was, shirtless on your couch, shaking in an attempt to stay still for your caring hands to work on him.

Still..

It had to be salvageable.

"-and without you, Osborne would've gotten his filthy grip into our movement, but NO, you were there to stop him -"

"How long are you planning to repeat yourself?"

You sighed, and he winced internally.

Okay. So not like that.

"I'm just worried about you, y'know?"

He nodded gently. "I can tell. Pretty obvious, actually."

You rolled your eyes, going back to work. "Yeah, well. You're our city's hero. Cheesy, yeah, but it's true."

He sucked in a quiet breath. "Yeah? If I'm the city's hero, then you're mine."

You look up at him, speechless. And he grins, hand coming to the bottom of his mask.

Plan - back on track.

"Cheesy, yeah. But it's true."

You're still staring, more in awe now, as he removes his spiked mask. He watches your eyes flicker from his coils to his multiple piercings, lingering momentarily on his lip before meeting his eyes. He's still grinning cheekily as he leans forward, stifling a groan as his newly tended wound shifts.

"Wow.."

He barely hears the word, instead feeling it roll across his chin from where you're kneeling in front of him on the couch, and his smile widens.

"That's what I thought when I saw you."

And he knows you were already hooked - everyone is, he's heard - but now you're just staring, taking him in, and he feels.. loved.

It's odd, after everything he's been through. But he can't help but revel in it, hand coming forward to cradle your cheek.

"Are we.. wow."

He leans forward further, straining against his gash, but sighs when you push him back upright before sitting next to him on the couch.

"Don't strain that."

It's crosser than he expected, but he can't help but chuckle. "Whatever you say."

"Doctors orders."

You lean forward, barely, and he follows suit. The new angle is more comfortable anyways.

"I don't like taking orders."

You know.

"What about.. significant other's suggestion?"

He leans forward further, hand coming back up to hold you.

"I could do that."

-----

Part 3

#hobie #hobie brown spider punk #spider punk hobie brown #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #spider person #spiderman atsv #spider man across the spider verse #spider man across the spiderverse #spider man across the Spiderverse x reader #spider man across the spider verse x reader #hobart brown #hobart brown x reader #spider punk unmasked #spider punk x punk reader #punk reader #x reader #xreader #spiderverse

[aihaitahm]

Could I request some stellaron hunter dating habit headcanons! (Stealings sweaters, always paying for dinner, ect.)

stellaron hunters and their dating habits!

characters: blade + kafka! sorry idrk the other stellaron hunters as much </3

gn! reader. hope algorithm doesnt fuck me up😭

kafka

loves pda and being seen in public with you. if your a bit shy, she would try to tone it down but she couldnt help herself, youre just too cute. clings to you when in bed especially if there has to be work done. would lay on top of you to stop you from getting up.

would spoil you with so much gifts. oh her baby wants something? she would get it for you right away. in return, she loves your gifts very much and would display or wear them at all times.

the type to hide behind doors and try to scare you. if you get scared easily, she would just hug and apologize even though its a bit funny. if you dont, she’d just laugh it off. “aw come on, it was a bit scary at least?”

when you both argue, she would give both of you space and reevaluate what happened. she knows how she can get extremely sarcastic and can be hurtful with her words. after it subsides, she makes sure she apologizes for whatever shes done and makes up for it.

not jealous but would keep her eye on people who try to actively flirt with you. would literally kiss you in front of them to prove a point, with a smug expression on her face. “im so lucky to have them. arent you jealous? well eat your heart out.”

blade

when he discovered this attraction for you, he tried to actively avoid you in hopes it would stop. well he was wrong. he was more inclined to look for you and kafka had to literally push him to pursue you. or if you pursue him, he would stop working and just be flustered.

he isnt sure how to express his feelings so he tends to give you little trinkets and gifts from his missions. he loves your smile and your appreciation when he gets you something. he tends to run his hand through his bangs because he so nervous around you. whenever he holds your hand or he feels your presence, he cant help but blush. he also has a habit of staring at you. even when you catch him staring, he doesnt care and would still stare.

kisses at first scared him but he kisses you intensely and thats how you know he really loves you. it is full of fire and compassion. makeouts with him are so intense because it is balled up love that he cant express properly. would tease you for getting shy.

he tends to get flustered because he wants to make you happy but relationships are not his best thing so he tends to ask kafka or his other companions on advice much to his dismay. he is smart its just the execution can be hard for someone like him.

when he gets used to it, he would be more open to hugs and headpats. oh he loves your touch so much. when you aid him after battles, he instantly feels peace and relaxes. you give him so much comfort and he never realized it until its with you. he tends to express his i love yous and such whenever you’re healing him.

#honkai star rail #kafka honkai star rail #kafka x reader #honkai kafka #blade x reader #blade honkai star rail #hsr blade #kafka hsr #stellaron hunters #honkai star rail x reader

[fairyofshampgyu]

Corrupt File !

genre: smut, college au

pairing: programmer! beomgyu x gn reader (afab when it comes to smut)

warnings: nsfw, sub virgin nerd! beomgyu, dom! reader, corruption kink, mentions of p0rn, handjob, riding

word count: 1.8k

Choi Beomgyu. Goodie two shoes in your comp sci class who was the teacher’s pet and notorious for being an ‘excellent’ and ‘strong’ programmer who can program amazingly well in any language and has great debugging skills. Apparently he learnt how to program at the early age of 7 and made his own pac man after a week. 

He’s also a little pretentious bitch. He thinks he’s better than everyone else in the class and doesn’t bother speaking to anyone, giving others judgemental stares. You’ve seen him a couple times on campus with four other dudes though but none of them were in any of your classes. He comes to every single class early with his cute little outfits, sweater vests and cardigans whilst everyone else is in their hoodies and deranged with little sleep, sits at the front and doesn’t talk to anyone but the teacher. 

You? Well, you’re mediocre at programming. You’re not too bad but you prefer other aspects of computer science and your programming skills have always made you slightly insecure because you weren't the best of the best and you didn’t learn it at some ridiculously young age and program 24/7 all types of games and websites and other stuff. You had to work so hard to actually get to a good level of programming whilst it came so easy to people like Choi Beomgyu. He seems so perfect. It made you want to imperfect him. 

You were late to class today, getting a bit delayed by some cats on the way there. They were really cute cats what can you say! And you loved cats. But being late to class today meant that all seats were occupied except for the front row and the spare seat, unsurprisingly was next to Choi Beomgyu. He doesn’t pay you any attention though, waiting for his computer screen to load and then the teacher begins.

“Alright, today I thought our class was in great need of some partner work and we’ll be doing programming today. With whoever is sitting next to you, I’d like you to develop a program with them. It can be on everything and anything and you have the weekend to create it, using Python.”

Wow. It was just your luck. 

The boy besides you sighs, pushes his cute, round, kinda too big for his face, glasses up and turns his body to face you. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t have minded working with him. Despite being slightly jealous, you did admire his skill but with how hostile he was being and how clearly he resented the idea of working with you, you didn’t think this was going to go too well.

“...We could make like a simple video game or something...” You speak up first.

 “On python? And too basic.” He rolls his eyes and shuts your suggestion off.

You’re slightly agitated with him now and you show it with your tone. “Well what do you think we should do then, huh?”

“I think we should make a music suggestion tool. We could make an algorithm run that recommends music based on what we think the user will like.”

He doesn’t wait for you to agree, opening up python and already starting to write some code.

For the rest of the class, you don’t contribute much, just trying to give him some suggestions to add maybe a function over there or a loop over here, maybe trying to find a reason as to why a syntax or logic error came up. You’re already halfway done and sure it would need more refining but now you know it won’t take up your whole weekend which is good. You watch him carefully as he stays very focused, fluffy dark hair falling into his face and eyes and his circular glasses that had drooped back down to his nose. You look down to his hands. He was very fast at typing and his hands were oddly very pretty.

Upon inspecting his features, you come to the conclusion that he was in fact actually pretty attractive. How had you never noticed before?

“We can carry on working on it at my place right now if you want?” Beomgyu asks, packing up his pink laptop, pink pencil case and pink notebook back into his crossbody bag after the class had finished. You stare at your own laptop that just has a black hard case cover, your pencil case that looks like it’s been through three wars, and your notebook that was really just a bunch of lined paper. Wow, he even had a theme going on. 

“Oh I've actually got another class after this that won’t be done until about two hours but I can come after that. Just send me your address.” So you exchange phone numbers and go off your separate ways. 

Apparently you were the only one who wasn’t informed that your class was actually cancelled today, your professor going on strike or something like that. Sighing, you check your phone to see that beomgyu had sent you his address and it’s not that far from the campus. You could go there early then.

knock, knock, knock. He was taking weirdly long to open his door and you could hear some rustling and bustling until he finally did open his door.

“Oh. You’re here early.”

“Yeah turns out my class was actually cancelled.”

His room was exactly how you expected it to look; clean and cute and quite perfectly him. The room had a pastel coloured running theme but mostly just pink and white. Fairy lights, strung across the headboard of his bed, a pastel pink record player in the right corner with an assortment of vinyls underneath, ones you recognised and liked and some you didn't recognise, an acoustic guitar to the left on a stand near his shelf and there was a worn out teddy bear occupying his bed. 

He sits on his bed and you follow...and then you both just sit there doing absolutely nothing for a few seconds in awkward silence.

“Uhhh aren’t you gonna get your laptop? We wrote it on your laptop?” You laugh, awkwardly.

“Uh yeah. Right.” So he gets his laptop, very slowly opening it and he’s just about to open the .py file when his mouse board falters over the safari accidentally and the hidden window was freed with a very suggestive video on it paused and an even more suggestive website. Your eyes go wide and so does his.

“I-it’s not- it’s not what it looks like! I-it’s just when you’re watching on a dodgy website and those pop ups come up! yeah...yeah!” He’s furiously clicking the red button on the top left hand corner to close the window immediately. But you can’t help the grin slowly appearing on your face.

You move slowly closer towards him and he moves back, stopping when his head touches the pretty fairy light headboard. “Oh really? Because it seems like you were jerking off before I was here.” Your face is only a few inches away from his now and he gulps, looking up at you. When he doesn’t even say anything to defend himself, you chuckle at him. “What happened to the little goodie two shoes? I didn’t know you were such a fucking whore.”

“I’m not-i’m not a whore!”  

“Are you sure?” You move to his clothed dick which was painfully hard now, lightly palming it and his whole body jerks, moaning and eyelids fluttering. 

“More, more...” 

You scoff. “Have you ever had a handjob before?” He shakes his head. “Do you want one?” Slack-jawed, he nods his head profusely.

You free his dick and take it into your hands, starting to stroke him and his hands fly to shyly cover his face, attempting to conceal his moans but not to much success.

“Don’t cover your pretty face.” You tut at him, “I wanna see it.” You bring your own hands to remove them away from his face. Not gonna lie, it’s turning you on immensely seeing beomgyu like this. Little put together, pretentious, perfect beomgyu is like this right now, begging you to touch him, clueless and embarrassed. You want to absolutely ruin him. 

 “Aw I bet you didn’t get to cum before did you?” 

“yeah...”

“Don't worry, baby I'll let you cum.”

You use your thumb to go back and forth on his sensitive tip while your other hand grabs the base of his dick and his mouth hangs wide open in endless moans and gasps. You pump his dick fast up and down, ruthlessly jerking him off and his breath hitches.

“Close!” He lets out the loudest moan so far and you abruptly stop. He utters a frustrated whine, hips bucking up and pouting at you, “I thought you said you’d let me cum.”

You can’t help but giggle at him. He’s so cute. “I will. In my pussy.” That seems to shut him up.

You get on top of him, straddling his waist and gently pinning both of his hands to the headboard. He looks at you slightly nervous.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to.”

“You sure?” He nods his head.

“Okay.” You inhale a breath before positioning his tip to your entrance and you look to his face again for confirmation and when there’s no sign of uncertainty , you slowly sink down.

“Oh, fuck! Feels so gooood” His face contorts in pleasure and he turns his head to the side, burying it into the pillow whilst his mouth stays parted. You lift up and drop back down hard, making him cry out a loud moan and you begin to ride him slow.

He was already so blissed out by you riding him slow you wonder how he’d be if you quicken your pace so you do, riding him mercilessly now, basically bouncing on his cock and he moans uncontrollably, incoherent words coming out of him with a fucked out face in a daze. Only his moans getting higher in pitch by the second and the noise of skin slapping filling the room.

“C-cumming, cumming!” And with a loud whine and his eyes slightly rolling back, his dick jerks and spills all inside of you with his body trembling.

His face right after being fucked is gorgeous. He’s breathless and panting by his first proper orgasm with his cheeks and chest flushed, face glistening because of the sweat and his fluffy hair completely wrecked now, glasses a bit crooked and head in the clouds.

Yeah, maybe you won’t end up getting the program done in time after all.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE REALLY APPRECIATED GUYS 😭<333

#beomgyu smut #sub! beomgyu #sub!beomgyu #sub!idol #sub! idol #dom!reader #sub! txt #sub!txt #txt smut #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt reactions #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu x reader #kpop smut #txt hard hours

[anon-amiss]

Wally x Frustrated!Artist Reader

(Platonic or Romantic)

Summary:

Reader has had a frustrating day with people saying mean things about their art. Wally proceeds to comfort them. Context: Reader may enter and exit Welcome Home, the show, at their own free will. There will be another oneshot to explain this for the future. Trigger Warnings?: Some angst(??), unsolicited criticism, sad reader :(

You just about had it. You didn't know whether you wanted to cry or yell, but it was tempting to do either. You held your sketchbook tight to your body, walking away from the scene to avoid any possible outburst you would have had if you'd stayed any longer.

You remembered how it all started. You had just finished a drawing you made, colouring, shading, and all. It was beautiful to stare at. You couldn't even believe you made it. Of course there might have been a few mistakes here and there, but it was still so gorgeous to you.

You were at the library with some buddies, so it was expected one of them would have taken notice of your attention's sudden ensnarement caused by the paper in front of you. They looked over and poked your shoulder.

You focused your attention back to them and gave a quiet hum, tilting your head in the process.

"What're you doing?" They asked, peering over at the paper.

"Oh! I just finished a drawing! I guess I just couldn't keep my eyes off it, huh?" You responded, placing your hand on your neck and rubbing it with some embarrassment. They gave a light chuckle and stared back at the drawing, before looking to you and smiling.

"It looks great!"

You perked up and felt your heart flutter. "Really?" You were sincerely glad to hear this, knowing how much you've been struggling to gain confidence in your art. They nodded and continued staring. "I was thinking of posting it online! I really like the way I did the lineart and colours on this! It's the first time I felt this proud of anything I've made, really!"

"Yeah, totally! I mean, I don't think a lot of people will really give it a like, but it's still really good!"

Your smile faltered if only for a second. "Uh, yeah?" Now what the hell did that mean?

"I mean, it's good. It's just that I don't think the algorithm will make it as popular as you think."

You felt your cheeks flush, a deep pit forming in your stomach. You felt as if you made a big mistake. "Um... Yeah. I guess."

They noticed your newly formed grimace and hummed. "Again, it's not bad. I don't get why you look so devastated."

You felt taken aback by their comment and scoffed. "Well, I know what you mean by the algorithm and all, but you don't think it's just a tad messed up to say something like that- like-- out of no where?"

"Not really. I mean, I said it's good. I'm not going to say it's a masterpiece or whatever if that's what you're asking me to do. There's still some mistakes like how the lighting is going off from different directions and stuff."

"Wow, um, okay. I didn't ask you to do a single thing, but alright."

"I just don't get why you're so upset. I told you it's good."

You nodded and got up from your seat, pushing the chair in behind you and grabbing your belongings. "Sorry, you're right. I'm just gonna go home now."

"Uh, alright."

That's when you left. You really didn't want to apologize, but you sure as hell knew that if you stayed and argued, they would have probably said some more upsetting things. They would have gotten frustrated with you, and that would have made you feel guilty. You knew you weren't the wrong one in this kerfuffle, but you still felt the heaviness of the words they had told you.

When you got home, you immediately walked into your room with the same deep weight in your heart. You couldn't stop thinking of their words. To hear the validation only to be hit with a backhanded comment like that felt like if someone just handed you a two question based homework assignment with sub-questions.

You lifted the drawing from your chest and stared at it, looking at the inconsistent lighting, your eyes darting back and forth from the once excellent linework to the botched details of the small things like colouring outside the lines.

Maybe you shouldn't post this.

You gave a heavy sigh and felt your face droop.

You sat on your bed and stared at the ground, pondering for a moment before a loud ring began to encroach on your hearing. You shot your eyes to the red telephone on your desk. You almost forgot. You grabbed your sketchbook and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

You closed your eyes right before the bright, flashing colours could hinder your vision, opening them only a second later to find yourself at Home. In Home, to be more exact.

You sighed in relief, seeing a figure run up to you excitedly.

"Hello, neighbour!"

It was Wally. You almost forgot about your deal. You promised to visit him every day at a specific time, or at the least check up with him, in exchange for the promise that he would not leave Home. (This was out of fear of what they would do to him if someone figured out he was a sentient muppet.)

"Hi, Wally," you greeted back, walking up to him with less energy than usual.

"I was worried when you didn't call right on time. I waited, but after ten more minutes, I thought I should call you myself. I hope that's okay?" He sounded so full of guilt. You couldn't help but give him a soft smile.

He was always trying his best to make sure you weren't upset with him. Part of you felt like maybe it was because you were the only person he had contact with in the real world and would be afraid of driving you away, but another part of you felt like maybe it was just second nature to him. He was one of the most genuinely caring personalities you've met.

"Aw, Wally. Of course it's okay. I find it sweet, honestly. I'm sorry for not calling sooner. I sort of um..." You stared at your sketchbook and faltered. "I was caught up in some business."

You switched your focus to him and chuckled. "It won't happen again. I promise."

"Im glad to hear that, neighbour!" Wally's gaze was fixated on you intently. An uncomfortable silence weaving its way into a brightly colourful world full of friendy critters and muppets seemed impossible, really, but here you were, waiting patiently for the solace of any action or word to appear, only to find nothing in return.

It felt like the world was paused, with you and Wally being the only inhabitants with the ability to wander as you pleased.

"So what's happ-"

"Are you okay?" Wally interrupted, his unending smile still resting on his face.

You found this question odd at first. Were you being that obvious?

"Um.. Honestly?- I'm not as happy as I should be right now. Sorry if it was noticeable."

"Don't apologize, dear! It's only natural to feel upset! Did something happen?" Wally made his way to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to show you that he was here for you.

You exhaled with a smile. He was really considerate. You only knew him for about three weeks now, and he was still so kind to you.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story."

"I have all the time in Home!"

You chuckled and nodded, setting yourself down on the nearby grass with ease. "Alright, well.." You placed your sketchbook down next to you as Wally copied your action, sitting across from you with an engaged gaze. "I was really happy about something I made today, and I thought I did a great job."

Wally nodded as you spoke.

"I'm not usually ever happy with stuff I do, so this was really exciting for me," you continued, staring down at your sketchbook and lifting it up to meet your vision. "One of the people I knew came up to me and told me that it was good, so I was obviously excited, but then they said something that kind of hurt, and when they noticed that what they said hurt, they just kept saying more mean things."

You stared at the drawing and sighed. You looked back at Wally and gave him a sort of displeasured look. "I left, and now I can't stop thinking about what they said, so now I'm just lost on whether or not I was right to feel as happy as I did the first time I saw my fully made work."

Wally nodded and tilted his head, redirecting his concentration to the drawing pad you held. "Did you draw something?" He inquired with a softer tone. You nodded in response.

He hummed and looked back at you. "Would it be okay if I took a look?"

You hesitated for the smallest moment before nodding. You shouldn't have to give it a second thought. Wally was an artist like you, so maybe he would understand a bit more. He reached out, gently grabbing onto the book and staring at the recent page you used.

"...No critiques please," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed that you even had to ask that. Wally's pupils seemed to be moving fast. You tried reading his expression, worrying a little bit when you realized how hard that actually was.

"It's.. It's so beautiful."

You exhaled with a big smile. "Really?" You tried not to get your hopes up this time, so you dialed your excitement back down a bit.

Wally kept staring at the drawing, his eyes never seemed to stop moving. It was as if he was trying to memorize it for himself in the future.

"Of course it is! This colour.. This design! It's wondeful! I'm really astonished, dear! I don't understand how anyone could ever say such crude things about this!" He sat up straight, looking at you with a wider smile than before, his pupils larger than ever. "Why, I'm so proud to have such a creative and talented neighbour like you! I really have no words! I'd frame this if possible!"

Overwhelmed with joy, you began to giggle and tear up. This was a lot for you. Wally really seemed to love it, and it was more than enough to fill the pit in your stomach with butteflies. You felt like your heart would have fluttered out of your mouth if he continued any longer.

He said he was proud to have you as a neighbour.

It could almost make you cry, and without realizing, you did.

Wally jumped at this reaction and set the drawing down. "I'm sorry! Did I say something wrong?" He scooted closer to you, feeling very concerned about his words. As he was getting closer, you pushed your body forward and wrapped him a tight hug. He let out a noise of surprise before going limp in your arms.

"Sorry, you did nothing wrong, I'm just so happy!" You held onto him tight. Wally chuckled and nuzzled his head on your shoulder.

"I'm happy you're happy, neighbour!"

You let go after half a minute and wiped your tears away. Wally regained his motion again, grabbing the sketchbook and handing it to you.

"We should definitely draw together sometime, dear! You're very talented! If there's one thing I would want to tell you, it's that you should never doubt your skills, especially if you're proud of what you've made! I'm sorry someone said something terrible to you. You shouldn't pay any attention to them," he rambled, planting a hand on your leg as you took the drawing pad back.

"Don't worry too much about that, I feel much better now that you've helped me," you replied, fiddling with the pages of your book. "You always know what to say."

He nodded and stared deep into your eyes, the world going silent once again as you began to notice this eye contact. "I love to see you smile."

Your face flushed. "I.. Um, thanks! I love your smile too!" He continued staring and sighed, his eyelids beginning to droop ever-so-slightly. You felt yourself become at ease. Normally, you'd feel uncomfortable with staring at someone for too long, but he was hard to look away from. You oddly felt tired.

You cleared your throat. "So about that collaboration," you blurted.

"Oh, yes! What time would you like to draw?" Wally asked, perking up and smiling greatly.

"We could now, if you want." You simpered at his mannerisms. He acted like an excited puppy. His pupils dilated as you finished your sentence.

"Nothing would make me happier!"

"Then let's get goin'!"

You both got up from the grassy spot and headed towards his home with more bounce in your step than ever.

"I love you, neighbour!" Wally exclaimed.

"I love you too, Wally."

End.

Notes: There may be some minor spelling mistakes here and there, so feel free to correct me on that stuff. This is my first time posting a fic on Tumblr, so sorry if the format is weird.

This story is kinda based on something that actually happened to me (besides the wally part lol, that would have been cool). I decided, why not share with other people who experienced similar things?

Asks and requests are open, so feel free to stop by my account and leave a request!

#welcome home imagines #welcome home x you #welcome home x reader #welcome home imagine #welcome home x y/n #welcome home arg #welcome home wally x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you #wally x reader #wally darling imagines #wally darling imagine #wally darling x y/n #wally darling #wh #welcomeh #welcome home fanfic #wally darling fanfic

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Innocence

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Metropolis Reader

Summary: How many variables go awry with one appearance of a hidden player? What would the Entity have done if a third party appeared in the array of pre-determined, algorithm-generated deaths?

Warnings: Side character death, angst.

A/N: Fuck you Christopher McQuarrie and Erik Jendresen!!!! Killing a beloved female side character to 'motivate' the male protagonist is the definition of FUCKING FRIDGING!!!! The side character death will be resolved, should there be demand for future chapters.

Word Count: 4.0k (DAMN)

Perhaps it had been the rain, the chill it had brought to your bones. But regardless, something was afoot. The streets of Venice were unnaturally quiet, and the party you had left emphasized that fact; a ringing sang in your ears. You walked alone on the streets, quietly enjoying the soft patter of the rain that trembled down the drains. Dodging the Metropolis body guards had been easy, it was a high stakes night for Alanna, a high stakes night for you.

Unfortunately, things did not stay peaceful.

Commotion sprung out among the party goers, and you heard distant gunfire. Things had begun. Sprinting was your only option, but with the heels you'd chosen it was more likely you were to twist an ankle over the cobblestone than escape. Finding a dark corner, you managed to brace yourself against a wall, snapping your heels off, flattening them so you could take longer strides. You weren't the only person using the dark side of the building to escape. A shout, some commotion, and quick footwork as a woman scaled down a building, dropping in front of you.

She was within a foot of you, so close that on motion of the arm could land a hit, a punch, or perhaps push away the strands of hair that lay glued to her sweaty face.

“…Hi?”

She makes eye contact with you, momentarily spooked.

“You’re one of the Metropolis siblings."

A statement, and observation.

"Yes...?"

"You're not supposed to be at this party."

The two of you stared at one another for some time, both of you breathing heavily. She had blue eyes, distinct Scandinavian features. An English accent amongst the native Italian accented english. You pinned her as a foreigner, and from the equipment she used and the quick way she discerned who you were and your presumed whereabouts, she was also an intelligence operative.

“MI6?” you rasped.

The woman shook her head, a flicker of annoyance creeping over her features.

“There’s no time to talk, come on.” she huffed, grabbing you arm and pulling you towards an alleyway.

“Now hold on, I don’t know you-”

She turned on her heel, pulling the two of you into a doorway alcove, keeping her words clipped and quietly delivered.

“You’re (Reader) Metropolis. You were not supposed to be at this party, you weren’t even supposed to be in Italy. Things are going on beyond your understanding, and the Entity-”

“-The Entity? For fucks sake, that’s a myth.”

The woman raised her eyebrow, computing your response rapidly.

“No. No it is not. I’ve read your profile, the youngest child, a ten, fifteen year age gap between you and Alana?” the woman listed. “You were an affair baby, you were just recently integrated into the family, you serve as a glorified accountant…” Ilsa listed. “You aren’t a Metropolis type, even with your name and lineage.”

She spoke so eloquently, in a self-assured manner. You wanted to argue with her, or at the very least find something in her thought process to correct, but she was right on all accounts.

“Fine. Why are we in a dark alleyway, why do you know so much about me, and why don’t I know a damn thing about you?”

The woman squared her shoulders.

“My name is Ilsa Faust. I was a former agent for British Intelligence, I’ve gone rogue, I work alongside the equally rogue Ethan Hunt. And you, Ms. Metropolis, are innocent.”

Innocence. What a strange thing to equate to you.

“I beg your pardon?” you raised an eyebrow.

Ilsa sighed, looking around before pressing a finger to her headset. 

“Benji. I can’t be the one to go after Grace.”

You watched her grimace, silently mouthing a few choice expletives.

“I know that. But I just… The youngest Metropolis is here. Metropolis, daughter of Max, the...” she paused, looking at you apologetically, “... Bastard child. The daughter of that old field agent friend of Ethan’s.”

She paused, seemingly listening to Benji as the poor man appeared to panic. You could hear the tonal fluctuations from your proximity a good foot aways.

“Yes, but it’s Ethan. He won’t see it that way. I know he'll be upset, but maybe it’s for the better.”

The line went quiet, and then there was a soft command. Ilsa nodded, looking at you.

“You’re coming with me.”

“Like hell I am, my mother taught me about stranger danger.” 

You stood your ground, arms firmly crossed one over the other. Ilsa looked at you tiredly, seeming to mentally prepare herself for some gargantuan task.

“Do me a favor and pretend to be drunk.”

You frowned, not comprehending. Ilsa lunged forward, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you over her shoulder.

“Hey! I’m not a child, and this dress is short!”

Ilsa let out an annoyed huff, reaching up to pull your dress down.

“Sorry, princess.”

You heard commotion, what sounded like men running. Their shouts and mixed dialect could be heard from somewhere a half block away.

“Now is not the time to tell me you’re a bad actor.” Ilsa whispered.

Under threat of exposure, possible abduction and Alanna probably, definitely strangling you should she catch wind of this, complying was the only option. You went limp, arms and neck dangling as the men drew closer. They didn’t give you or Ilsa a second glance. She was mostly overlooked in favor of your bottom, of which you were begrudgingly aware of.

“Good girl.” Ilsa murmured once the men had passed, patting your rear.

“Oh.. Hey!” you blushed.

“Sorry. I was aiming for your back.”

“Yeah, my ass. Literally.” you retorted.

Ilsa let out a startled bark of laughter, amused. But she was quick to set you down, and noting the flimsy nature of your shoes, did so gently. You looked at her, a bit dizzy from the sudden rush of blood from your head to the rest of your body.

“You okay?”

“Give me a second, dizzy.”

But you two had little time. A com from Benji came through on Ilsa’s headset. Ilsa’s face went white, and she proceeded to grab you by your arm, booking it through the winding streets of Venice.

“I’m in heels, you will break my ankle if you keep pulling!” you sourly informed her.

“This is a matter of life and death. Kindly quiet yourself.” Ilsa snapped back.

A matter of life and death? Why was it always one of those? Two figures came into view, both stood atop of a canal bridge. You recognized neither of them, a tall man with salt and pepper hair and another brunette woman. He was stalking over to her, knife in hand. Her breathing was irregular, labored. But Ilsa was faster, approaching Gabriel, assuredly drawing forth a large sword. Gabriel brandished Grace’s switchblade, leaving the woman to pass out on the bridge. 

“I hoped it'd be you.” Gabriel smiled.

“...”

You admired Ilsa's silence, her quiet appraisal of the man. The sparring began almost immediately, and it didn’t take a trained eye to see that they were evenly matched. But something was wrong. He was pushing her into a corner, and then the sword was gone. They fought over the switchblade, each getting a few slashes in. But Ilsa was getting weaker, or clumsier. A brief thought flashed over you. What if she died? What if he saw you? What if he saw you and you didn’t have anything to fight with? You needed that sword. This woman... She'd said that this was a matter of the Entity, and your sister had taken pains to ship you out to Berlin on short notice. You'd taken even larger pains to make it appear as if you had. If you weren't supposed to be here, then maybe you had an advantage over this man, over this Entity. But you had to think fast.

“Hey, asshole!” you shouted, hurling a small, fractured chunk of cobblestone at the man.

The rock hit Gabriel’s forehead just as he looked up, stunning him. It was a good hit, and it bought you time, but not enough. You lunged for the sword, but he was faster. The scuffle that ensued was brief, he was better equipped, and stronger. His eyes went wild as he snatched the switchblade again, aiming for your heart. The switchblade cut into your shoulder, and pain bloomed as the blade wedged itself into the socket. He’d missed. A scream tore its way out of your lungs, and white hot pain flashed through your mind’s eye. A grunt came from above as Ilsa landed a kick to his chest. The sword was knocked loose, toppling over the bridge. And with that the only remaining weapon was the switchblade lodged in your shoulder. Both Ilsa and the mystery man lunged for it, but both pulled back before grabbing it, seemingly for different reasons. The man’s eyes went wide with fear and recognition, and he stalked back quickly.

“You’re not supposed to be here, Metropolis.” he paled. “You were supposed to be in Berlin… You’re not… The Entity didn’t..”

He landed one more kick to Ilsa before running. His footsteps were quick, and he disappeared into the veins of the city, his footsteps dying away as if he was a ghost, as if he was never there. Ilsa watched him, breathlessly speaking to Benji about the semantics of the encounter. She was breathing heavily, and it was difficult to understand her. Both she and Benji devolved into thick, almost indiscernible Midlands accents as they spoke and often interrupted one another. Benji’s voice was so loud that you could hear whispers of it through her headset. Ilsa crouched over you, examining the wound and cussing. She appeared just as frazzled as your mystery attacker, mumbling something about innocents and bloodlines.

“Fuck me, kid. Just had to get stabbed.” Ilsa mumbles, pausing her complaining to briefly tear off a bit of your dress, “And I’ve got another head trauma to deal with, and Ethan is off the fucking grid.”

A man broke through the street, panting heavily, eyeing the slowly awakening Grace and the incoherently mumbling Ilsa as she secured the knife wound to prevent it from escaping. He’d run from the opposite end of the city, as if he’d been running in circles.

“Where’s Gabriel?” Ethan asked. “And who is… Baby Metropolis?” 

Ilsa eyed him, nodding. She was busy tying the fabric of your torn dress around your shoulder. It must have been precaution, the knife prevented excess blood from escaping. 

“He stabbed baby Metropolis?”

Ilsa nodded again, gently picking up your now shivering frame. It was cold in Venice tonight, and without the rush of adrenaline it was very clear just how cold it was. Ethan, or John Lark as you knew him, stumbled forward, hastily taking you from Ilsa.

“It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be alright.” Ethan says, in his signature ‘I’m saving the day’ voice.

The voice didn’t help. He was John Lark to your eyes; a madman.

“I know, Jesus. Get off!” you protested, trying to get away from the short, scary man.

Ilsa chuckled a bit at this. It appears Ethan’s usual charms wouldn’t work on you, and for good reason. A boat sped through the canal, and you recognized the driver by his voice. Benji? There was another man on the boat, large and equipped with a fedora. Both looked a bit shell-shocked, seeing the aftermath of the commotion on the bridge.

“Luther, get her in the boat.” Benji needlessly directed the other man as he was already pulling Grace in.

Luther examined Grace’s head for signs of abrasion while Ethan and Ilsa lowered you into the boat. Ilsa held you steady, your back pressed against her front, one of her arms wrapped  around your midsection, the other cradling your head as the boat sped through the canal once more. Ethan was hastily gloving up, and a brief concern over sterility dawned on you, but it wasn’t as if you had a choice.

“This is a hospital wound.” Ethan sighed.

“We can’t go to the hospital, Ethan.” Luther warned.

“I know that.” Ethan snapped back. “Cover her mouth.” Ethan directed Ilsa.

Ilsa’s hand fitted firmly over your mouth, her other arm holding your torso against hers. You tensed immediately. What the hell was Lark going to do to you?

“Breathe in and…” Ilsa directed.

Ethan pulled the switchblade out as you exhaled, the scream dying off as you ran out of air. The noise that was ultimately muffled by Ilsa’s hand was that of a high pitched wheeze. Ilsa’s hand remained, a wordless understanding between Ethan and Ilsa. Blood gushed from the wound immediately, and Ethan mumbled something about missing major arteries and cut tendons. Not like it mattered to you, Ilsa’s hand kept your head up, your mouth covered.You couldn’t see the damage for yourself.

“Breathe in, and out. In… Out…. In….” she continued.

With another quick jerk, Ethan pushed your shoulder back in its proper socket. This time your scream was much more audible, even with Ilsa muffling it. Grace winced as she watched. The blade had wedged itself into the socket, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Good girl, good job.” Ilsa whispered, breaking the tension. “I know it hurts, it would have been worse if you knew it was coming.”

Her hand left your mouth, fingers gently pulling through your hair, a soothing motion. Ethan moved on to stitching up the knife wound, or so you thought. The needle went deeper. 

“Oh Jesus Christ…” Grace paled.

You tilted your head to look, but Ilsa was faster, not letting you see. The needle bit in, and you winced. Ethan had a skilled hand, but it was clear he was stitching something deeper. 

“Ethan, is that really necessary?” Benji asked. “You’ve got her whole shoulder airing out in this dirty city.

“The tendon was sliced, it needs to be stitched up.”

Luther appeared just off to the side, gloved up and gently dabbing iodine all around and in the wound. It stung like a bitch, and you clenched your teeth as you hissed in pain. Your natural instinct directed you to look again, but Ilsa kept your head in place.

“Don’t look. If you look you’ll get hysterical or ill.” Ilsa murmured. “Now stay still.”

You wanted to stay still, you really did. But you didn’t have a pleasant sight. Grace looked practically green, from both her concussion and the sight of your open wound, and Luther had a worried look on his face. Benji wasn’t better, with that permanent anxious frown on his features. The biting sensation in your shoulder only continued as Ethan worked on stitching up the various tendons that had gotten cut. It was Ilsa who noticed your rapid, panicked breathing.

“No, no.” Ilsa protested, tilting your face to look at her. “Look at me, breathe in and out, none of this ragged panting you’re doing. You’re not going into shock, we don’t have time for that.”

Her stern, authoritative approach was what you needed to stay afloat in the midst of Ethan’s suturing. She had this soft frown on her face, her hand firmly holding your head in place as she murmured to you.

“Benji is driving us to the safehouse. You’re coming with us, you hear?”

Ilsa outlined the plan, the various things she was going to do, baths, medicine, sleep, food. All the things you would need to get better. By the time Ethan started suturing the skin, her nose was barely touching yours, her words floating over you like mist. She kept your head in place, murmuring softly as her blue eyes twinkled in the dim light. It was… Intimate. More intimate than other things you’d experienced. Why was it always the barrier between life and death, ailment and health that always brought forth the most romantic moments. It was something your mother had said… All friendships are romantic. Perhaps all beginnings of friendships could be interpreted as such.

“Iodine.” Ethan curtly directed

The yellow antiseptic stung, and you winced. Luther had a gentle hand, and he’d used it throughout the process, but it was the freshly sutured skin that burned the most. Ilsa stroked your cheek, shifting her other arm to hold your injured shoulder in place. You hadn’t even noticed that you’d been trying to move it. 

“No moving this, you hear?”

“Wasn’t gonna.” you mumbled.

The boat stalled. Benji stood up, gesturing everyone to leave the boat, but his words died in his throat. His eyes bulged, a shocked expression on his face. The shot had been so quiet, the whizzing was all that had been audible. Benji jerked, and red bloomed at the front of his chest. Ethan was quick to support him, still gloved up from his work on you. The quiet moment of the canal was broken. Everyone was moving except you. There was arguing, many voices crumpled into one echochamber of chaos, Grace holding Benji as Luther held Ethan back. For a little man, Ethan was vicious when angry, intending to follow the unseen sniper and mercilessly  deliver his body to the canal. The boat rocked violently, and Ilsa shouted continuously, mostly at Ethan to calm down. Her grip on you was tight, her hands placed over vital areas on your abdomen. She was protecting you should another shot fire. Benji met your eyes, his hand held over the gunshot wound. He looked gray, as if life had been sucked out of him the moment the bullet hit its target.

“Gabriel was going to send a message either way.” Benji rasps, his voice bringing sense back into Ethan.

Ilsa left you on the boat as she helped Grace carry Benji into the safehouse. It was clear that there would be no second shot, and you were safe in the belly of the boat. Ethan breathed irregularly, the muscles in his neck tensing and relaxing as he seemed to be pushing aside his anger. He too left the boat, leaving Luther to attend to you. There was an uneasy stillness in the air, and Luther moved to pick you up, pausing at the brief fear that appeared in your eyes.

“I’m… You don’t know who most of us are, do you?” he asked, intuitive in more ways than one.

You shook your head, taking a breath in to steady your nerves before answering.

“I know… Ilsa. Ilsa Faust, yeah? Umm.. Then there’s Lark. John Lark.”

You’d heard all of their names at least once, but you couldn’t list them in the aftermath of Benji’s snipe attack.

“That’s Ethan.” Luther corrected. “The brunette is Grace, Benji is the Englishman who’s been injured, and I’m Luther. Now let’s get you out of this boat.” he softly finished.

You pegged him as the gentle giant of the group, and he was. Gentle, at least. He carried you off of the boat, up the stairs into the Venetian safehouse. It was as still as the water outside. Why was it so still? Such a large city, and yet it felt like a ghost town. There were no arguments now. Grace sat in a corner, a bag of peas on her head. Ethan and Ilsa were in a separate room, quietly conversing as they treated Benji, as you presumed they were doing. No hospitals, they’d said. What kind of people couldn’t go to hospitals?

“Here’s some of Ilsa’s clothes. Tank top, and sweats. Bathroom’s over there.” Luther pointed. 

He stepped into the room with his other friends. It was the only room with light in the stone house. The clothes looked fresh, and your dress was dirty and torn. You didn’t see the point in maintaining your privacy with Grace staring off into space and the others presumably holding vigil over Benji. But it was difficult, grabbing the zipper. Gabriel had struck you in your more flexible, left shoulder. You couldn’t grab the zipper with your right hand.

“Here.” Grace murmured, getting up to unzip your dress. “It’s just us girls, let’s get you into these.”

Grace gently pulled off your dress, working the tank top over your injured shoulder and sliding the joggers up your body. You noticed her tired movements. She’d suffered a pretty decent blow to the head. Concussions were no joke. From this distance you could clearly make out the lines around her mouth as she pursed her lips, helping you to dress.

“Thanks. Grace, right?” you quietly asked, breaking the unnatural stillness.

She nodded, brown eyes losing their glassy look.

“Yes. You’re Baby Metropolis?”

“Oh, no my name is (Reader) Metropolis. I’m the baby of the family.” you explained.

“Ah.”

Grace settled beside you on the couch. Her shirt was half unbuttoned. But it didn’t matter. It was just us girls.

“He’s not going to make it.” Grace murmured. “If he was going to live, they should have taken him to a hospital the moment he was shot.”

You looked down at your hands, the constant pain in your shoulder contrasting with the numbness everywhere else. Benji. He’d… Somehow he was important. A piece of the puzzle, someone who struck you as innocent. Perhaps that was why his death seemed so irrational. 

“Are you in pain?” Grace realized. “That’s a dumb question, of course you are.”

She got up, rummaging through an open medical bag until she found what she was looking for. Her footsteps were soft, bare feet delicately navigating the creaky floorboards with practiced agility. She was a con of some sort. No one else would instinctively avoid the creaky floorboards of an old house.

“Take two of these.” she says.

“Extra strength tylenol?” you joked.

“Stronger.” Grace murmured, half-smile on her face.

You nodded, taking the meds. There was nothing in your stomach, so the meds dissolved quickly, taking away the pain in as little as fifteen minutes. They came with a distinct drowsy side effect, as if the world was a bit floaty. Grace wasn’t the only one who was anxious to sleep, and the two of you crept into the larger bedroom after finding a few croissants to snack on. Two king beds and empty dressers, divided into girls and boys, or so you presumed. The two of you settled under the covers, closing your eyes. Sleep came quickly. Somewhere in the twilight of the early morning, Ilsa slid into the bed behind you, an arm draped over your abdomen as you laid on your back. You didn’t need the answer to why she was so clingy. Or perhaps you had it wrong. But you wouldn’t protest this stranger’s touches. No, there was a bond there now. You’d survived such an ordeal together, such a crisis as the one you were bound in. And it felt nice, to be sandwiched in between Grace and Ilsa. You were safe here.

Morning broke, but the sun did not break this quiet. There wasn’t a word spoken. The atmosphere in the room was somber. No one needed to say it, Benji had passed. Ethan’s dead look as he sat on the couch confirmed any suspicion. Luther cooked breakfast for everyone, maintaining a sense of normality. Ethan wouldn’t accept any of Ilsa’s soft attempts to bring him food, and he wouldn’t accept her beside him, either. The Entity had taken a divergent route in its predictions. Grace and Ilsa had been failed targets, so the Entity chose to take Ethan Hunt’s friend instead. And Ethan, being the savior he was, took it hard. 

“Over here.” Grace murmured, gesturing Ilsa over to where the both of you sat.

Ilsa settled on the rug, predictably taking a seat next to you. She didn’t outright drape an arm over you, but her knee touched yours. It was a soft, innocent gesture. She wanted closeness, and you did too. Your knees stayed touching. Grace noticed the little dynamic between the two of you, shifting a little closer so she could get in on it too. Her knee came into contact with yours on the other side. Three pairs of feet lined up, three legs nestled close, shoulders flanking yours on both sides. It was cute, and you giggled, triggering Grace’s laugh too. Ilsa smiled, humming in amusement. And for a brief moment, Ethan’s eyes flickered with something other than sorrow. He picked up the plate Ilsa had left on the coffee table. And he ate. 

<-->

#rebecca ferguson x you #rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson #ilsa faust x you #ilsa faust x reader #mission impossible #mission impossible dead reckoning part one #wlw #lesbian

[musings-of-a-rose]

First sentence prompt (use whichever character your heart desires)

“Don’t look at me, I thought we were going for tacos.”

Taco Tuesday

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 630+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: So @theewokingdead originally gave me this idea for Tommy, but it fits for Benny as well. And then I got this one sentence fic starter and instantly knew what to write!  

“You text Tommy to prepare for taco Tuesday. You later show up to his house with tacos, and when you walk in you find him naked and realize he thought taco Tuesday meant something else entirely.”

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

Dating Benny was always a blast. He has so much energy that he pours into everything he does, whether it’s his MMA fighting or going to the movies. He always gets super into whatever we’re doing and it just makes my life so much brighter. Don’t get me wrong, he has his moments where he’s not quite himself, his past consuming him. But he’s been working through it with the help of his best friends, myself, and a great therapist. 

It’s Tuesday and it’s been a long day. I walk inside my apartment, kicking off my shoes and leaving them on the mat near the door, heading into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I’m drinking, my phone pings, so I fish it out of my purse. Benny’s picture, one of us together at the State Fair with turkey legs the size of our heads, fills my screen and instantly my mood lifts. 

BENNYKINS: How’s my most beautiful girl?

Me: Most beautiful? Is there more than one of us?

BENNYKINS: yup. The one of you that goes in public and the one that does freaky shit in bed 🥵😘😈

Me: you bring out the freak in me what can I say?

…

BENNYKINS: good to know 😉 

Me: you free tonight? 

BENNYKINS: you asking me out?

Me: always. I was thinking it’s Tuesday so taco night at your place?

…

BENNYKINS: sounds perfect

Me: great! I’ll bring supplies

BENNYKINS: I bet you will 😉

I stop at the store on my way to Benny’s, gathering up the stuff we’d need to make tacos. Quickly making my way through the store, I’m grateful that there was no line at checkout. The quicker I can get to Benny the better. I really miss just being around him. 

I pull up to his house, parking behind his Jeep. A quick glance in the mirror to make sure I look ok, not that it matters to Benny in the slightest, and I grab the bag of food, heading up to the front door. I shift the bag and knock, hearing him yell  “Come in!” from somewhere in the house. I open the door and close it behind me, sliding the lock into place and kicking off my shoes before I head into the kitchen, setting the bag down on the counter. 

“Benny?”

“In here!”

I head down the hall, gently pushing open the door to his bedroom where I’d heard his voice coming from. My breath catches in my throat and I freeze - Benny was on his bed, completely naked, laying sideways with a giant grin on his face. 

“Hey pretty lady!”

“I..wh…what are you doing?” I can’t help the smile creeping across my face, but I still haven’t moved, unsure of what to do.

Benny cocks his eyebrow up. “It’s taco Tuesday.”

“Yeah. I have the food on the counter, but what?” I gesture towards him.

His smile falters just a little. “You said you were bringing your taco.”

A laugh erupts from the back of my throat, my head falling back with the weight of it as I realize what he’s thinking. “I said I’ll brings tacosss. Not just my taco!” 

“Oh.” He shakes his head, momentarily caught off guard before the smile returns and he jumps up, his whole uh body bouncing with the motion as he bounds over to me, cupping my face with both hands and placing a soft kiss to my lips.

“You brought your taco, and I have the sour cream.” How he says this with sincerity and a straight face, I’ll never know.

“How does that turn me on?”

He smiles, his eyes studying my face as he dusts his nose across mine. “Because you love me. Now come on - let me stuff your taco.”

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry

#benny miller #ben miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x f!reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund character ff #garrett hedlund character fanfiction

[allthingsimagines]

Multiverse Parenting (2)

I am so so sorry this took me so long to post! I was on vacation, had some teacher certification things, and had my 22nd birthday all in the span of a month!

Thank you so much for the support on the last one. You guys enjoyed that one more than I could have ever imagined. Thank you <3

word count: 2.5k

Here's part two!

You stood behind the bleachers as you nervously waited. You checked your watch to see five minutes had passed since Miguel was supposed to meet you here.

God, you felt like this was a bad teen movie.

Miguel was supposed to be there at five to be there in time for Gabi’s first soccer game of the season, but he was a little late. Miguel was typically always on time, but today was different for whatever reason.

The last three months had gone better than you could have imagined. Parenting together in different universes was extremely difficult, but you two managed to make it work fairly smoothly.

Maybe not if you factored in whatever the hell was going on between you two. You and Miguel were great at parenting Gabi together. You always made sure to back one another in front of her, but you would discuss different methods and work things out behind closed doors. The other difference now was the invisible string that seemed to be pulling you to him. 

He was everything you wanted. A great guy, intelligent, handsome, an amazing dad, and a great partner. 

Miguel had pulled you in to do missions and work in the spider society on a frequent basis. You worked with his top teams and he was always keen to hear your opinions on what could be improved.

Peter B. had voiced many times that no other person was valued as highly as you were. You were allowed to speak your mind to him and call him out when you felt necessary. No one else was. Peter finally knew it was true when you argued on Miles’ behalf and fought with Miguel to see reason.

“He’s a kid! For fucks sake Miguel!” You shouted at Miguel as you two fought in his office.

Peter stood defensively in front of Miles, Mayday strapped to his chest. Miles was scared of Miguel and he shared a look with Gwen and Hobie that made it evident. The teens moved to form a protective bubble around Miles. Miguel was very intimidating and you only pushing him was making his frustration worse. 

Miguel pressed his fingers to his temple as he tried to calm himself, “It’s a cannon event. It has to happen to all of us.”

You fumed as you stepped closer to him, “Just because I lost my dad doesn’t mean he has to. If he can save him then give him the chance.”

Miguel couldn’t look at Miles, because every time he did all he could see was his daughter’s friend. Gabi and Miles had become extremely close since Miles and Gabi were both new to the Spider Society. He was a kid, but he still had to go through everything just like the rest of them.

“It will tear a hole in the Multiverse!” Miguel yelled as he stared down at you.

You didn’t falter as you narrowed your eyes at him, “What if it was Gabi? Would you let our daughter die, because some fucked up algorithm told you she had to?”

Miguel stuttered as he tried to push down all of his feelings, “That’s different-“

“It’s not and you know it. Gabi survived and fell into my universe and now she floats between two universes and there’s never been a multiversal destruction,” You argued as you stepped chest to chest with him.

Miguel remained silent, his eyes downcast as he thought about having to let his daughter die. You grabbed his hand and squeezed it, “I wouldn’t let anything happen to her just because some stupid AI said it had to. I know you wouldn’t either Mig.”

Miguel met your eyes finally and you could see the internal battle behind his eyes. You pulled him into a tight hug, “If we can both have our daughter in our lives without any cosmic issues then he should be able to have his dad too. He’s different from any of us. You have to give him a chance.”

The room was tense as they watched the interaction with bated breath. Miguel let out a sigh as he pulled you tightly to him, “I would burn the whole multiverse before I ever let anything happen to her. I would destroy everything for both of you.”

Your cheeks heated up at the thought of you being that important to him, but you pushed it down, “Me too Miguel.”

You thought maybe his acceptance of you was due to your relationship as Gabi’s mom, but the teens had pointed out that it was something different. Gwen, Miles, Hobie, and Pavitr were convinced that he was in love with you. 

It didn’t help that Gabi only egged them on because she agreed that Miguel was totally in love with you. She also pointed out that you were in love with him.

You always chalked it up to teenagers' fantasy of true love, but you knew you loved him deep down. 

Miguel was a fixture in your life and you wanted to be his partner in every way that you could. You just didn’t believe that he could ever see you as anything else.

Then a portal opened in front of you and you moved back as Miguel moved through. He panted slightly as he quickly fixed his hair, “Sorry, sorry, there was a massive anomaly and those idiots couldn’t handle it.” 

Miguel brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes as you tried your best not to stare. Dear god, he was hot. You were screwed. You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up without jumping his bones. God help you. 

“Figured you wouldn’t be late for nothing. The game’s just starting,” You said with an understanding smile as you started toward the stands. 

Miguel came to your side and quickly pulled the stadium seats you’d been holding from your hands. You looked up at him and smirked, “Always the gentleman, huh?”

Miguel chuckled as you two rounded the corner of the bleachers, “Just cause you can carry them doesn’t mean you should.”

You bumped your shoulder with his, “Man I’m glad I have you.”

Miguel smiled down at you as you led him toward the front of the bleachers, “Anyone or anything I should know about?”

You scoffed at the question, “Yeah, you’re gonna get hit on by some of the moms.”

Miguel looked down at you with an eyebrow raised and a look urging you to continue. You sighed as you said, “There are a few of the girl’s moms who are single and are probably gonna flirt with you the whole game.”

“Oh,” Miguel said, noticing the slightly negative tone of your voice.

Were you annoyed that they were hitting on him because he was Gabi’s dad or were you annoyed because you were interested in him? Miguel placed his hand on your lower back as you two started up the stairs, “Don’t worry Hermosa.”

You blushed at his words and ducked your head to keep your red cheeks from his view. You walked up the metal bleachers and found that one of the only open spots was in front of that group of moms. You tried not to get annoyed with just the sight of them as they caught a glimpse of Miguel. You waved your hand in greeting and smiled at them as Miguel unfolded your chairs and put them on the bench. You and Miguel both sat down and you finally got to look at the field only to find Gabi jumping up and down and waving at you two.

You looked over at Miguel to see the most proud look on his face as he watched his daughter. The game began and Gabi made quick work of gaining possession of the ball.

“Who’s this Y/N?” A sickeningly sweet voice asked from behind you.

You shared a quick look with Miguel before turning around and smiling at the group of women, “This is Gabi’s dad, Miguel.”

Miguel raised his hand in greeting and you swore you could see the women swooning. One of the women, Teri, beamed at him, “Oh! We always thought you were a single mom.”

Despite the fact that they were also single moms everything she said sounded condescending. Miguel noticed your change in mood and scooted his seat closer to yours. Miguel wrapped his arm around your shoulders and shot them his best charming smile, “I travel a lot for work, but I’ve finally moved home so I could be with my girls.”

You flushed at his words and did your best to maintain your composure. The women looked taken aback as another woman, Jen, said, “Oh, how disappointing.”

Miguel fought the idea of calling them out and instead decided to press a kiss to the side of your head, “I’m just glad to finally get to spoil my beautiful daughter and wife.”

You blushed darker than you thought possible. The women all looked annoyed at the two of you as Teri forced a smile, “Congratulations.”

You smiled, albeit pretty satisfactory, and leaned closer to Miguel and said quietly, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Miguel shrugged as he kept his eyes trained on Gabi playing, “Anything for you.”

You smiled at him and leaned against his shoulder, “Thanks.”

The two of you chatted back and forth throughout the game as you kept your focus on Gabi as she continued to score. You talked about everything: embarrassing Spider-Man stories, favorite movies, the best place to eat in Greenwich, etc. Before you knew it the game was down to the final minute and the score was tied.

Your heart pounded against your chest as you and Miguel leaned forward in your seats. Gabi moved aggressively down the field with the ball as the other players chased after her. 

“Come on Gabi!” Miguel shouted as the crowd cheered as she got closer to the goal.

Two defenders came up to her, but she swiftly avoided them. Gabi then reared her foot back and sent the ball soaring. You grabbed onto Miguel’s hand as you waited anxiously. Then the ball sailed past the goalie and into the net. You and Miguel jumped to your feet and screamed as Gabi scored the final goal to win the game.

The stands lit up as everyone cheered for the team. You couldn’t stop smiling as Gabi was tackled by all of her teammates in a pile as they won the first game of the season.

Miguel’s arm around your shoulders pulled you into his side and you looked up at him. Then Miguel pressed his lips to your own.

Your whole body tensed as Miguel kissed you. Your mind screamed at you to respond and you did rather quickly as you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Miguel’s lips moved against your own as he held you against him. You breathlessly pulled away as you looked up at him at a loss for words. Miguel looked shocked at his own actions and opened his mouth to say something.

“Mom! Dad!”

You both stepped apart as Gabi came sprinting up the stands towards you. Miguel recovered quickly and a bright smile lit up his face as she ran up to him. Gabi sprinted into his arms and Miguel pulled her into a tight hug. The smile on his face was one of the brightest you’d ever seen as he said, “I am so so proud of you mija.”

Gabi beamed up at him before she quickly jumped into your arms. You recovered from your shock as you pulled her into a tight hug. She squeezed you and you pressed a kiss to her forehead, “We are so proud of you.”

Gabi pulled away and grinned at the both of you. You and Miguel awkwardly stood next to each other not quite sure what to do. 

“I know we had plans to hang out, but Keely invited me over to her house for a sleepover with a few other girls. Can I go?” Gabi asked, looking at Miguel with puppy eyes.

You looked to Miguel to see him cracking under her stare and you smiled at your daughter, “Yeah, don’t worry kiddo. Have fun and be safe.”

Gabi grinned as she leaned up and pressed a kiss to your cheek and then Miguel’s, “Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Dad!”

“If anything happens-“ Miguel started to say with a worried look.

“Use the watch and you’ll be right there, I know,” Gabi said, smiling at her dad teasingly before she waved and darted towards her friends.

You and Miguel looked at one another, neither quite knowing what to say. You took a calming breath before you grabbed his hand and softly smiled at him, “Come on.”

Miguel swallowed thickly and nodded before he grabbed the stadium chairs with his other hand. You led him out of the bleachers, your heart pounding against your chest. You made it behind the bleachers before you stopped and faced him, never letting go of his hand. 

“I’m really sorry about earlier. I never meant-“ Miguel started but you cut him off.

“Never meant to what? Because, personally, I thought that was a great kiss,” You said, trying your best not to let your nerves show through.

Miguel’s eyes softened at your words and he set the chairs down. He took a step forward and gently placed his hand on your waist, “This okay?”

You wordlessly nodded as he moved chest to chest with you. You placed your hand on his chest, his own heart pounding under your hand. Your eyes met and then he pulled you closer and pressed his lips to your own. 

You pushed yourself to your tiptoes and wrapped your arm around his neck to deepen the kiss. This blew everything you could have ever imagined out of the water. You both broke apart breathlessly and met each other's gaze. You settled back on your feet, but Miguel kept his arm firmly around your waist. 

“Can I take you out for dinner?” He asked, pushing some hair behind your ear.

“Do you even have money for this universe? Is there a currency converter that I missed in HQ?” You asked with a teasing tone.

Miguel shook his head at you, but the elated look never left his eyes, “Come on, I’ve got a place in my world that’s to die for.”

His hand slipped from your waist as he punched a few things into his watch. You leaned against his shoulder, “You sure about this? This isn’t gonna cause an implosion of the multiverse?”

Miguel looked down at you with a fond smile before pressing his lips to your head, “Nothing could pull me from you.”

Your cheeks reddened as you averted your eyes, taking his hand, “Always knew you were a rule breaker.”

Miguel chuckled before he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed his lips to it, “Anything for you.”

Tags: @fuckedeath @scaraza @obi-mom-kenobi @alicefallsintotherabbithole @miss-taura @twentysomethingwereyote @https-archangel @urbimom @miggyyyyohara @kennedytilleryy @konniebon @thebettybook

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #atsv #miguel o'hara dad

[fedoraspooky]

I haven’t been here long. What irritating changes have been made?

Credit where it's due, some changes have been good, like polls and stuff! But the big recent changes thus far that I would classify as irritating are:

- The UI change. This one may be less irritating for newcomers because it's basically the same layout as twitter and instagram, but for a lot of folks who've been here a long time, it feels cramped and like a loss of identity for the site. For many, the appeal of tumblr is that it ISN'T an algorithm hell like twitter or insta. Also, there's the annoyance of having to relearn where everything is, because it all got moved around.

- The users being lab rats for various tests the devs wanna pull out of nowhere without consenting to beta testing new site features- like the one that took away user icons on the dash for like half the site. They finally put them back after getting enough feedback that said NO, but users were so used to their feedback being disregarded that they were half expecting the change to be pushed through anyway.

- The Netflix tie-in advertising being pushed even to people who had PAID tumblr for a no-ads experience. Complete with them somehow thinking it would be a good idea to put an unescapable-by-scrolling spooky clown on peoples' dashboards that u had to use ublock to get rid of. While I'm not scared of clowns and often find them quite charming, it sucks that staff didn't take coulrophobia being a common fear into account.

- A wave of fully sfw trans posts being wrongfully marked Mature and staff doing little to nothing about it. Not sure if this is still ongoing, but it destroyed a lot of trust and good will. (LGBT+ users have been having to fight a constant war against censorship ever since the adult content ban on tumblr, so yeah... Nevar 4get the list of banned search words that would bring back no results, like 'girl')

- The site gradually moving away from customization. Tumblr is a BLOGGING site. But it seems to have lost sight of that fact, because most new users don't even know you can fully customize your blogs with css and stuff (an option that is now off by default for new accounts!), because of the in-dash viewer giving you only how blogs look on mobile, which is a lot more uniform. There, it's more like every other site- you get a banner and icon. Oh, but you can change colors and fonts from a drop-down list too, that's cool I guess. Though they recently took away custom color schemes on Message windows, just another little bit of personalization taken away.

- TUMBLR. LIVE. Basically tumblr teamed up with a skeevy dating app partner to allow for livestreams- but not the cool kinda livestreams like on twitch where you can draw or play games, no- to a site full of people who value anonymity, they decided to push phone cam only livestreams. Not only that but by agreeing to the terms, you're giving out tons of personal data including your location to said skeevy dating app partner and all of THEIR third-party ad partners. Needless to say, most people didn't wanna use it, so instead of users it's flooded by p*rn bots (which is ANOTHER issue we've been dealing with for a long time and have been getting an even bigger influx of FROM tumblr live) and scammers. And thus, since tumblr likes to put a carousel of current streams on people's dashes, you often get softcore p*rn thumbnails from the bot streams with no way to avoid it except for toggling off tumblr live entirely.

- Oh wait. That's right. You CAN'T toggle it off. Because you can only snooze it for a while until BAM, you're jumpscared by a carousel of ladies licking your screen again! But hey, at least they made the snooze 30 days instead of the 7 it used to be, right? Yeah, except for the fact that you can't get rid of the tumblr live button itself on the app anymore, and now it's front and center with a NEW notification tag on it, overlapping your dash and cramming useful stuff like the search button out of the way.

NOW- A lot of this stuff CAN be at least mostly fixed on desktop by installing ublock and xkit and tampermonkey + dashboard unfucker... But that's a lot of stuff just to make the site usable, you know?

#this isn't even a comprehensive list but hopefully that covers all the big ones #anyway i get tumblr has to make money and it's currently not doing that #but burning through the remaining good will of the people who stuck around through earlier bs doesn't seem like a great idea either #ah well... i'm still here regardless #i've already had to leave deviantart behind because it became an ai cesspit... and it sucked. I had a lot of good memories there. #it sucks to uproot everything and move. so unless something equally bad happens here i'll probs be going down with the ship lol #also there's like nowhere else to go right now which is a huge problem; #i've been trying to look for other places to post too but none really have the same laid-back feeling tumblr does. #also i love the asks system too much. more sites need that honestly #anyway i rambled enough hope this helps u get an idea of why people are angy #asks

[utane]

Hello! Please ignore this if you consider it to be unwelcomed or improper. I really like your Orizyn clingy drawing, it is very good, and it inspired me to write a short fiction about it. Here it is:

Orikan rarely had uninterrupted periods where he could finish his meditations. He would usually be forcefully awakened from his meditative trance by interstitial alerts, or internal alarms.

Always an emergency.

It would break his focus, and with that his consciousness would pour back into his body. He would be alert and ready to handle the disruption, energized flux rushed inside his conduits.

But now, with his trance coming to a gentle end, his astral algorithms started trickling inside his body.

Orikan, with most of his consciousness floating freely outside his engrams, let his feet touch the cold floor of his observatory.

His tail was making large, lazy movements as the astromancer was sleepily looking at the reports, phos-glyphs holograms surrounding him.

He wobbled a bit, unstable as his internal gyroscopes didn’t fully calibrate from the extended meditation on his repulsor drivers.

His ocular has issues focusing on the shiny glyphs in front of him. He chose to close most of its aperture, leaving only a tiny space, reducing the size of his active visual feed.

Now he could read the reports.

No alerts. But activity in his library.

His cogitations programs were satisfied with the lack of alarms, but his engrams were pushing him to investigate.

He let out a string of fuzzy white noise from his vocal actuator, as he started dragging his feet to investigate what his engrams were so concerned about.

The library was only in the adjacent room of this floor, but to the groggy cryptek, it felt like an infinity.

Right leg, up, down, left leg, up, down. The simple pattern was mesmerizing, almost putting him back into the trance he just came from. But his engrams insisted on not letting him slip into becoming an astral program again, keeping him inside his body.

There was work to be done.

Reaching the library happened faster than he realized, lost in the task of walking there.

With his back to him, there was Trazyn.

He could tell it was him, mostly by how he looked.

And he looked to be perfectly cold, ideal to rest on and chill his heated flux.

Trazyn had sneaked inside Orikan’s tower a couple of times in his long existence. It was an ongoing project, coming here, replicating his manuscripts or any new data tablet the diviner found, then taking the original and leaving the duplicate.

It was not stealing. Since he didn’t trust Orikan to properly take care of them, they would be safe in his own archives. He was saving the precious information for the future.

He knew that Orikan was in his deep meditations, and he knew how to bypass the alarms, not to trigger the Observatory’s master. Not only that, but he was comfortable here, almost as in his own Museum.

He just found another new tablet when he felt a warm hand touch his shoulder pad.

He froze, slowing down his chronosenses. Despite the shock, there was no pain or shouting.

Trazyn started slowly turning to look at who touched him, when he felt Orikan pressing his hooded head on the other shoulder.

The diviner looked peaceful, with his ocular mostly covered by the diaphragm.

He let his perception of time return to normal, as he felt another hand coming and resting on one of his abdominal tubbings.

‘Orikan?’ he said, almost as quiet as a whisper.

The astromancer let out a few white noises, and judging from the cadence that they came, they were supposed to be words.

He felt the hand under his ribs move, playing with the coolant conduit.

‘What ?’ He let some of his confusion sneak into his voice. Orikan looked like he had just woken up from a deep sleep. As soon as he thought that, he realized how absurd that was. They were necrons, they didn’t sleep, let alone wake up groggy.

Yet Orikan was acting exactly like that.

He started rubbing up and down the conduit between two fingers, as he repeated the white noises.

‘….cold…..’ Trazyn deciphered a work.

It hit him, Orikan just finished his meditations, and maybe he still wasn’t in full possession of his engramatic capacities.

He looked very peaceful, resting his chin on his shoulder, looking like he was a step away from dozing off again.

Trazyn felt the star in his core pulse.

He might just play along for a bit, and see Orikan’s reaction when he realizes where he is.

Starting his cooling processes, he let chilled coolant flow freely in his inner tubing.

Then, gently took the warm member between his cold fingers, as he turned to face his colleague.

‘I will cool you off, dear. Come hither!’ he kept the gentle, soft tone while pulling the sleepy cryptek closer.

Touching his cold chest caused Orikan’s ocular to be almost completely closed, the astromancer letting out content static noises.

‘How were your meditations? Did you find what you were searching for?’ He asked, delighted to feint familiarity.

Orikan rubbed his deathmask on the pleasantly cold ankh. He recalled being happy with the results of this study.

‘…good’. He muttered. He could feel the fingers on his hands moving, rubbing calming circles.

‘Did you see anything about me?' Trazyn asked the calm diviner. He rarely got to see him like this.

Orikan lifted his head and cracked open his aperture a bit wider. He needed a moment to connect to the information still outside his body.

Trazyn felt the change, and started to gently move his deathmask closer to the astromancer's.

Orikan looked lazily at him.

‘Kiss me....’ he whispered, ending with a static burst.

Trazyn complied. Pressing his mouth to the fanged one of the diviner.

He started dimming his oculars, feeling like the star, spinning inside his chest, was melting him from the inside.

This was such a raw, unguarded moment.

He wished it could last forever.

The kiss lasted hours, feeling the flux cycle in under the necrodermis covering it.

After the 7th hour, he pulled gently away.

‘Trazyn?’

‘Yes, Orikan?’, he asked, feeling the fingers he held in his hand, suddenly gripping him back tightly.

‘What are you doing here?’ Orikan’s voice came stronger, with the usual anger behind it.

Looks like he overstayed his welcome.

The end -

Sorry again, if it was rude, I didn't mean for it to be. I really enjoyed your drawings of Orizyn. Thank you !

Ouououghgh I'm so spoiled !! No need to apologize for cooking up some fresh food for me 👀👀

They're so soft and Trazyn is being so sappy 😍😭😭

#orizyn #warhammer 40k #trazyn the infinite #orikan the diviner #necrons #look I love me some fanfic and there aren't a lot of fics for me to binge so this is excellent #long post

[olderthannetfic]

Another anon brought this up, and I don't know if it's a youtuber that I watched or if it's just YouTube's algorithm pushing this kind of content, but now I'm being recommended a lot of booktubers who discuss "Icky nasty evil books that contain the bad kinks."

Now... I'm one of those evil people who enjoys those overlong videos made by people with deep literary cultures, and I enjoy them even more if they actually didn't like the book and spend all their time basically ripping them apart.

However, these are not the videos the YouTube algorithm is currently pushing. In these videos, it's just... being enraged because these smutty books, which are advertised as smutty books, contain bad kinks (incest, dubcon, etc). Like, the people making them just keep repeating that the books are disgusting, awful, the writer should be put on the FBI watchlist, but don't say anything about the way the book is actually written.

Is the author skilled? Are their sex scenes well-written? Are the characters likeable, or do you just want to slap them? Yeah, sure, the book is Big Bad and the author should be jailed, but you just spent forty minutes telling me how a book that was advertised as containing incest actually contained incest.

I just don't get it.

I get being upset when authors don't properly state that their book contains this or that dark topic and you're peacefully reading and suddenly the MC is going through something horrible or you find yourself in front of something that upsets you, but it's a completely different thing when you purposefully seek out this material and then get mad about it.

Like... yeah, the bag is labeled properly: dead dove, do not eat. Idk what more you could possibly want.

--

Clicks. They want clicks.

[usagichuu]

university!dan heng x reader oneshot

a/n: a continuation of the university!dan heng headcanons! it’s been a while since ive properly written so please bear w me, not proofread so also plz bear w me

genre: sfw, first kiss, gn reader

notes: i actually do a lot of archival research in uni irl and hence this scenario has crossed my mind many times but for context for those who haven’t been around uni libraries before: to maximize space many libraries will have their shelves packed together in one huge block of shelves, so you can’t actually access the shelves by walking between them. in order for you to access the shelf you’re looking for you need to turn a wheel on the corresponding shelf to push the adjacent shelves aside and open up a pathway for you to walk between the shelves (does this even make any sense?). but you need to be careful! because if you aren’t paying attention, someone in another row may be trying to get a book and when you open up yours you might squish them :( anyways! context so this makes sense.

It’d been a few weeks into the semester since you first met him at the library, since those steely gray eyes that peered over at you from the front desk seemed to puncture right through your defences. It’s funny how one day of forgetting your laptop charger could turn into a new daily routine of dropping by the library, requesting to rent one just so you could be struck again. Charger rentals quickly turned to him asking you about the books you’re reading to chats about classes. Then one day he started leaving you cups of tea on your desk for your late night sessions - and always when you have your head down for a power nap so you can’t ever thank him. But the teabag in your cups are always the same brand as the ones you see dangling from his thermos, though he will always deny it.

Today you actually did need his help, though. You were looking for a specific book that was not in the regular library shelves, and needed someone to guide you through the labyrinth that was the archives. Luckily for you, Dan Heng seemed to know them like the back of his hand.

“Sorry to take you away from your job like this.”

“I work at the library help desk. You are asking for my help,” he says matter-of-factly, “This is quite literally my job.”

The archive stacks lay out before the two of you, with stacks on stacks of shelves stretched out for what must be all the way from East to West campus. With the archives located in the library’s underground level, it was entirely plausible. The archives room was lit by large fluorescent panels on the ceilings, which seemed to hang low compared to the tall shelves. It was crazy how in a room that loomed this large, they still had to stack the shelves together to accommodate all of them. Each shelf had a great big wheel on its side, which you knew you had to turn to roll the adjacent shelves aside, allowing you passage to the shelf of your choice. With the smell of finely aging books curling yellow with the years wafting through the room and these great big contraptions of shelves, being down here almost felt otherworldly. You looked to Dan Heng - how long must someone spend down here to sift through the shelf labels as algorithmically as he did?

“May I?” Snapping out of your awe, you found him holding his hand out to you, expectantly. Wait - what?

“Huh?”

“Your phone. I forgot the call number.”

Oh. You hand your phone over. This deep into the archives, with the fortress of shelf stacks in front and behind you, the ceiling lights could only reach so far. So when he opened your phone, the light of the screen gently illuminated his face.

“Interesting background.”

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Friendly banter is an effective way to make a friendly atmosphere between library staff and visitors.

“I didn’t take you for the bantering type.”

Just before you swear you could detect an almost imperceptible smile. But just as quickly as it came, the light of your phone was snuffed out.

“Here it is,” he set both hands firmly on the wheel, turning and rolling what must have been eight stacks of shelves aside, which gave way with a creak and the crackle of plastic-wrapped books. A space opened up between your two target shelves, just wide enough for one of you at a time to pass through.

“Looks cozy,” you say, taking a step inside. But you knew this was the farthest right he could push the shelves, and you didn’t want to trouble him to push aside any more. “Let’s go find that book.”

You two work silently, scanning the bookshelves row by row: you on one side and him on the other, meeting in the middle. You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little flustered when you two bumped shoulders as you finished the first row, him just silently turning to you, shaking his head. It’s not on this one. And then you two proceeded to the next row.

You went on like this for a little bit, occasionally accidentally brushing hands as you two closely watched the book spines, only for you to hurriedly draw your hand away. But row by row, shelf by shelf, he started to move his hand to yours first, your hands lingering, skin to skin, for just a moment as you both pretended to be carefully observing the last book. Never daring to look the other in the eye lest either one betrays the look on their face. First a brush of the knuckles, them the backs of your fingers, then-

The shelves began to close together with a heavy groan. They must have been so quiet, else must not have realized you two were there, and began to close up the stacks, and they were closing in quickly.

Dan Heng immediately put himself between you and the incoming shelf, bracing himself on the shelf behind you. “Excuse me!” He shouts to the stranger, and the shelves ceased.

The stranger called back. “Sorry! I’ll be done in a sec!”

The momentary shock settling down, you realized the position you were in: the two of you, pressed dangerously close together, Dan Heng with one arm above you to steady himself on the shelf behind you, looking down at you. Your faces were so close as you turned your head up to look at him, you felt a lock of his hair brush your forehead.

“Are you alright?”

You open your mouth to say something, when you realize that with his body pressed to yours he could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest - and was that his thrumming in response? Must the adrenaline from saving you from the shelves be getting him this worked up? Why was your own heart still fluttering if the threat is over? And… Why did your face feel so warm?

“I’m…” You look into his eyes for the first time since you two entered the shelves - he’s handsome. Devastatingly handsome. The faint ceiling lights cut through the shelves, offering a window of light for you to look at him, him to look at you.

“Sorry… Is this too close?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… It’s fine…”

Your eyes wandered - could he see where they were looking? Down his face to his lips, and you tried to focus on something - anything - to distract you but all that was before you was him, his eyes gray like winter above you, his heart thumping through his jacket and against your chest, and his lips, god, his lips.

You two stand in silence as you try to peel your eyes away from him. But then he gently puts his free hand under your chin, tipping it back up to look at him. You can’t hide it now - you cheeks flushed pink, the way you’re looking at him. Your foreheads are touching now, his eyes searching yours as his gentle breath fans across your face, a few locks of hair on your cheek stirring. You quietly whisper.

“Is teasing me also part of your job description?”

A flutter of his eyelashes. Yours closing in response. Your hearts, drumming up courage in you both as he lowers his face and you bring yours up to meet his.

And then the gentlest, gentlest of kisses. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, and his hand under your chin drops to your waist in response, drawing you near. His kisses are long and drawn out, then punctuated: short, sweet like haiku syllables, playing out on your lips, writing you to life.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

a/n: thanks for reading yahoo!

writing masterlist

#hoyoverse #honkai star rail #dan heng #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr headcanons #hsr x reader #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail fanfiction #mine

[strawberryamanita]

Alright, I gotta head this off at the pass. If you are feeling uneasy because of the new outrage directed at Mark, please consider giving this a read. I'm just one single schlub, but I know a thing or two about reacting on impulse because of my triggers, and I gotta throw my hat into the ring.

Okay.

I know about the Hospital game video. Very unsettling stuff, I can well imagine. As someone who can't handle graphic depictions of real-life events myself, I'm not going anywhere near the video. I also know now that the TikTok angry mob is looking to cancel him because he hasn't taken the video down as of the publishing of this post(July 11th, 2023, 10:52AM EST).

Y'all, I'm asking you, as a concerned fandom member, to please give Mark the benefit of the doubt. [He uploaded a video literally yesterday] talking about how busy and stressful things have been for him: he just lost his grandmother, he got sick, he gets injured frequently, he's in the middle of filming a movie that he had to take a break from because he was putting himself at risk for damaging his eyes, it just keeps going.

If you're outside the fandom and just having fun sending stray shots everywhere, please know that Mark is not gonna ignore all this when he's able to address it -- but that when is not right now. Mark and his editing team do a good job warning his viewers about common things like flashing lights and exceptionally gross imagery; this other video is a long way from the improvements the channel has made. 7 years ago feels less relevant than 1 day ago.

I'm pretty confident that Mark's not gonna refuse to delete the video because "Oh don't censor art" or whatever he's gonna get accused of. He, like I'm imagining a good deal of people were, was not aware of how real those images were, and it's probably not at the front of his mind because that video is buried under literally thousands of others on the channel. Mark's deleted videos before, he probably doesn't have a special attachment to this video or anything.

And, real quick, before you question why his editors won't just do it for him -- it's still his channel, I don't think he'd be cool with his editors making decisions about deleting things without running it by him.

All of this stemming from TikTok makes perfect sense, seeing how the fandom on tumblr was completely calm before the news was brought in from the outside. TikTok runs entirely on sensationalism and hype and clicks, and the eternal engine of Needing To Cancel Someone comes for us all one day. But I am asking you -- you, the person reading this, not the algorithm on TikTok -- to step back and think about this situation for yourself. No, I'm not just "defending a celebrity" and all that -- I'm trying to say that this uproar is being driven by very intense emotions drummed up by graphic content, and your nerves are probably shot by thinking about it all and I hear all of that. I've done impulsive things while triggered myself, you have all of my sympathy, none of this is to downplay the shockwave hitting you and others right now.

But Mark made a mistake.

Making a mistake does not make someone a bad person. It doesn't make you a bad person, it doesn't make me a bad person, and it doesn't make Mark a bad person.

Please don't keep yourself on constant duty to watch his every move and time how long he's been "ignoring" this on a stopwatch. Mark is known for pushing himself more than he should; the fact that he hasn't addressed this yet is a good sign that he has hit capacity levels of stress.

Let yourself breathe. Distance yourself from the video. Ask around on tumblr for their favorite lighthearted Markiplier videos, or just watch another YT'er if you need to get even further away from this. Prioritize your mental health today. You are going to be okay. This is all going to be okay.

Please let yourself believe that.

#markiplier

[musings-of-a-rose]

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x f!reader

Word Count: 900+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: I don’t know, I saw a gif of Rhett being pushed onto the kitchen table and punched by his brother and I thought of this instead. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to me ramble about this and for giving it shape! 

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Rhett Abbott Masterlist

“I don’t see what the big deal is, doll.” Rhett opens the front door and I storm in behind him, the gentle closing of it setting me off even more.

“Don’t see the big deal? That slut was all over you and you said nothing.”

Rhett chuckles, a small smile hitching up the corner of his mouth. “She was just bein’ nice.”

I scoff, throwing my small purse onto the couch as I follow him into the kitchen. “Being nice? No one wears that low cut of a shirt and that short of a skirt and is just nice.”

Rhett opens the fridge, taking out a beer and popping it open before taking a long swig. “Was I just supposed to say I had a girlfriend?”

I cross my arms. “Oh, so you do remember I exist.”

“Why are you getting all weird about this? She just said hello-”

“Rhett, I know girls. She was touching your arm, batting her whore lashes, and all but twirling her damn hair. If I hadn’t have walked up, she would’ve shoved her hand in your pants.”

“You’re over reacting.”

“Oh really? How would you feel if it were me?”

His eyes darken slightly. “A girl shoving her hand down your pants?”

“Rhett Abbott, stop trying to change the subject! I can’t believe you didn’t mention me!”

“I didn’t think I needed to tell everyone I have a girlfriend right after they say hello!”

“You do if they dress like a whore!”

“You need to calm down!”

I can’t take it anymore. Stomping over, I push him and he barely moves, setting his beer down on the counter. “Are you pushing me?”

“Maybe I am!”

He takes a couple steps away from the counter, but I don’t back down. I try to push him again but his large hands wrap around my arms. I thrash, throwing my weight at him as he pulls me to him, spinning us around as Rhett bumps into the kitchen table. He loosens his grip momentarily and I shove all my weight at him, hands pushing against his chest and he falls back onto the table, his long, jean clad legs flailing up. Before he can stand, I jump on him, legs straddling his hips, my pulse racing, blood rushing between my legs. Rhett’s hands squeeze my hips as I fumble with the ridiculous buckle he has on, huffing audibly when it just won’t open. His hands try to help but I swat them away, finally opening the belt and unzipping his pants, pulling out his already hard cock. I lick my hand and jerk him a few times before pushing my panties aside, grateful for the dress I wore as I drop myself onto him, both of us audibly groaning as he pushes at the back of me. 

His fingers tighten on my hips and I grab his wrists, pushing them into the table on either side of his head. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust as the anger in them starts to dissipate with each move of my hips over his, a small moan escaping him. He tries to lift his head so I drop his hand and tangle my fingers into his hair, gripping him tight and pinning him down to the table as I continue to fuck him. His hand comes up and encircles my forearm, not trying to push me off him, but connecting with my skin as I take him, my orgasm quickly rising. Our breaths fill the silence, ragged and panting as the table scrapes slightly on the floor. And then the warmth rising in me pops, spreading out to the end of my limbs, my head thrown back as I cry out, hips sputtering, only vaguely aware of the pants coming out of the man under me. I look down and meet his bright blue eyes and I lean forward, gripping his hair tighter, my opposite hand moving to gently grip his throat, his nails digging into my wrist as I speak in his ear. 

“Come for me, baby.”

He grunts, mouth hanging open as little pants escape him, his seed dripping from me. We stay like that for a moment, both of us heaving and trying to catch our breaths. My hand is still wrapped around his throat, my other hand tangled in his hair as I stare down at his face, his beautiful fucked out face.

“You’re mine, Rhett Abbott. And don’t you forget it.”

—----

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