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eoieopda · 8 months

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tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind.

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you.

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.

You don’t reciprocate.

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope.

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?”

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…”

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it.

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you.

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.

Christ.

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

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norrisleclercf1 · 3 months

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Okay, I was asleep for the og post but, mafia/dad you say?

How about Mafia!Mark (listen I down bad for this man, hate to break it to you but it's bad) who's in the middle of a very important business meeting when his little girl runs in to show him the drawing she made and one of the other men makes a comment, and before Mark can say anything, the little girl turns to him "my daddy does bad things to people like you", making Mark laugh, like hell yeah that's my girl

A/N: I think it's only fair that we're all down bad for Mark Webber

"Now, what did Daddy tell you?" Mark asks, sitting his little girl, Emma down in his chair. "Stay here and color." She giggles leaning back in Mark's office chair. "That's right, because Daddy has an important meeting, and Mommy is on her way here to pick you up." Mark explains, eye level with his little girl.

"Daddy? Can I draw for you and Uncle Nandie?" She asks, her brown eyes batting up at him he can't help but smile. "You can draw me as many pictures as you want. Can add them to my collection." He points to the wall that has nothing but Emma's drawings. "Okay Daddy," Mark smiles and stands, kissing the top of her head as a knock comes from the door.

"I heard my favorite little niece was here?" Emma's eyes grow wide and her face is split in half by her smile as Fernando walks into the office closing the door. "Emma bear," Fernando moves over to her side and picks her up as Mark slides on his suit jacket. "Uncle Nandie, can I spend the night with you?" "Emma, Uncle Nandie and I are busy, maybe this weekend, okay?" She nods her head as Fernando puts her back down and kisses the top of her head as well.

"You ready for this meeting?" Fernando whispers, and Mark shrugs. He honestly didn't want to come into work, not with Emma. He tends to keep her hidden, but when an emergency meeting was called, he couldn't ignore it and brought Emma with him. You left your parents early and were driving back from the country to the city to get Emma.

"Let's get this over with, so I can get back to her okay." Mark grumbles and walks over and smiles at her drawing Mark and her playing. "Very pretty, finish it so I can hang it up." Kissing her cheek, Emma smiles and goes back to drawing.

-----------------------

Emma giggles, as she signs her name to the bottom corner like you taught her to do. Seeing the time, she sighs, Daddy has been gone for a while and she wanted to show him. Pushing the chair back, Emma grabs her paper and runs to the door.

"Listen, I'm just saying that this is important. If you don't do this you'll," "Daddy?" Mark stops talking and relaxes his face seeing his baby girl run up to him. "Hey, baby. Did you finish drawing?" All the men tense as Fernando smiles and Mark picks her up placing her on his lap.

"Who gives a fuck about a damn drawing. It's probably shit anyways, we have real business to get too Webber." Emma turns around to the man who said that and smiles gently. "My daddy does bad things to people like you", Fernando and Mark share a look, as the guy balks and Emma goes back to showing off her drawing. "That's right Emma, Daddy does do bad things to people like him." Mark flicks his fingers and his guards move quick as Mark distracts her from what was happening to the man.

"It's very pretty baby, you'll help me hang it up yes?" Mark asks, and Emma nods cuddling deeper into her father's hold.

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dontyoufeelitangel · 1 month

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I found some old vivzie pop art, I deep scrolled her tumblr for this😭

+ my commentary on it.

She called this; archangel Gabriel, will we see them in hazbin? If so, will Gabriel’s design still look like this?

Based on the angels we have seen in the show I think this character design will be scrapped and re-done.

I’m not a furry but ugh I’m a sucker for all these werewolves, out of all vivzies characters, they’re definitely my favorite!!

Do you recognize them? These are Vivzies werewolf characters. They are most well known for their appearances in the Die Young animation.

So um, I’m obsessed, ANYWAYS here’s all their names:

Roxi (pink red yellow, left bottom corner)

Koko (purple sticking out tongue, left bottom corner)

Garfield (black and white checkered, far right)

Mint (mint green, tongue out, bottom middle)

Jiji (light blue body, dark blue hair, main singer in DieYoung, red eyes, gold earrings, middle)

Niquie (small pink, yellow eyes, sitting on Jijis head, top middle)

Whitney (neon yellow, red checkered pattern, middle left)

Dixie (light yellow, red nose and eyes, middle right)

Dani (fluffy black with white long face, light yellow eyes and black freckles, bottom right)

Jaux (pure black fur, white eyes, top middle right)

Gina ( black fluff covering white face, tucked behind Dani and Garfield, right)

From 2013 these are early designs for “angels and demons” which would later be recycled into Hazbin Hotel. The line-up is: Niffty, Husk, (idk who she is someone help me out💀) & crymini.

I love this design of crymini SO MUCH MORE than the newer one.

AAAHAHANNANSNSH I LOVE THIS ONE!!

So this is also from Angels and Demons (which would later become Hazbin hotel)

so the lineup is; Mimzy(she’s stunning), Niffty, Husk, Angel Dust, (that one girl who I don’t know), arackniss, crymini, Baxter, and Alastor.

I love this because we really get a look at the older designs of the Hazbins and also the retired characters that didn’t make it into Hazbin hotel.

Angel dust having a blob fish and an angel fish will never not be funny.

ALSO his design has changed a lot, but sometimes change is good,

Not for me tho lol, I like this old design more than the new one💃

Omg old huskerdust??😍😍 Idk actually, the caption for this was “bros will be bros” 😭

Anyways huskerdust till I die🗣️🗣️

What I find funny about this is how complex Angel dusts design is, and how plain Husk is,

Now in the show it’s the other way around.

Angel dust is drinking orphan tears😞😞

This was the farthest/oldest piece of angel dust art I could find.

Some details: skull on chest, both black eyes, no gold tooth, the amount of eyes, and the colours(duh)

This one haunts me ⚡️⚡️

Back from when Alastor and Mimzy used to be a thing,

Like, hands off my bitch Alastor

Okay this isn’t hazbin or anything,

But honestly as problematic as Vivzie pop is, I really fuck with this ke$ha sketch.

Because as much as I dislike Vivzie, I still love Ke$ha with my whole heart.

So this is angel dust fucking with Mimzy(he’s got her caught up in his webs), there’s also Alastor, husk and some other chick I don’t know.

UGGGHH Mimzys eyes used to be so cute istg

(She’s also matching eyes with Alastor)

On the topic of eyes, Husk is a free soul in this drawing😋😋

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watermelonsugacry · 1 year

Note

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRpMf9gp/

This with yn and harry on the red carpet during the 1d days

oh my gosh YESS

As the band moves down to the next spot of the red carpet, YN clutches the side of the long train of her dress to make sure Niall or the other boys don’t step in it—by accident or on purpose. They all situate themselves so that each band member can place a hand on each other’s backs as they pose to get their pictures taken. Harry has to admit, this is one of his favorite stances that the band takes on walks like these. Since being a teenager, thankfully he’s been able to control the blush that tends to rise to his cheeks at her soft touch.

It’s moments like these where he slips into a faint daydream. While he loves the boys so very dearly, he imagines a scenario where it’s just the two of them on the red carpet—waiting in line at a coffee shop, walking down the streets lined with shopping outlets, or escorting her out of a fancy restaurant. With his hand protectively and possessively clutched around her waist, she would be his and nothing else would matter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the way how naturally she shifts her head to the screaming paparazzi in front of them, the lights from their flashing cameras are blinding but she makes it seem like it's no bother to her. She poses so elegantly, her mesh-covered leg peaks out just enough from the slit of her dress and it leaves him having to concentrate extra hard to keep his gaze forward.

He also sees the way she looks down at herself, taking her hand out from Niall’s back and trying (but failing) to discreetly tug on the top part of her dress as she feels it begins to slip. It was yet another tactic their management has forced upon her “good girl” image: making the fabric at her bust compressed and low yet “hiding” it under a layer of mesh to not seem too exposed.

Without a second thought, Harry rotates himself to stand in front of her as she adjusts her tight fabric over her chest. He doesn’t look down at her at first as he gives her the privacy that she needs. Instead, he fixes his gaze on one of the American Music Awards icons on the wall beside her head, rubbing his index finger under his nose with that furrow in his eyebrows.

YN looks up at him surprised but quickly takes the opportunity to finish fixing herself, ignoring the groans and questioning the paparazzi yell out. Although Harry’s the sweetest man she’s ever met in her life, the scowl on his face as he looks beside himself can intimidate any building of a man. When he finally meets her eyes, his heart nearly melts in his chest at the endearing smile she gives him. With a nod of reassurance, she gives him a loving squeeze of his arm in return as he goes back to his spot next to her left.

If this were a different scenario, if he truly acted out on the “bad boy” persona that their management team tried to bestow onto him, if he wasn’t media trained for it (or if his mum didn’t teach him any better), he would yell back at the deafening men at the barricade with their cameras reaching for the best shot of the band.

Unknowingly to her, all of his anger seems to dissipate when he feels her hand slide from its platonic place at the middle of his broad back to the bottom of his spine. The action is unexpected to him and it almost makes him physically shudder at her touch.

So instead of his mutual facial expression that he’s been giving the cameras from the start of the night, a small smirk sits comfortably on his lips.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

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mmoonwrites · 1 month

Text

↷ bathroom stall

featuring : hughie campbell

AUTHOR'S NOTE : i noticed there is a severe lack of hughie content on this site... had to fix (this now has a PART TWO !)

word count : 1.2k contents : afab!reader, smut (minors DNI), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hughie calls reader "baby" a lot, dubcon, alcohol/drinking, one night stands, dirty bar bathroom sex, definitely not proofread

after more than enough inside of your favorite little dive bar, you’d found yourself wrapped up in a pretty stranger’s arms and your hands in his hair: you wouldn’t normally consider going home with somebody you just met, but it’d been a long week and you needed this. the static from the radio playing in the corner granted you the passage to forgetting yourself and tuning into the warm buzz as much as possible outside of your apartment.

tonight, you weren’t you, or maybe you were more you than you’d ever been–who knows the difference anymore? all you knew was that nobody in your life would expect you to be out drinking in the middle of the week like this so late and all alone, and the freedom was incredible.

you let out a long exhale into his ear and slid your hands to hang loosely off of his person as you began to speak. “let’s go somewhere we can be alone,” your voice was just loud enough above the music and people that you knew he’d hear it. the two of you’d been clashing teeth and tongue for a while, and you knew he was facing the same urges you were from the stiff feeling pressing against your hip.

“f-fuck, are you-” he practically trembled under your touch, “are you sure? i-i mean, i don’t even know your name yet and-”

“i’m more sure right now than i’ve ever been.”

it only took you a minute or two to make your way into the bar’s bathroom with him; the music now distant and foggy to you as the man guided you into the first stall while you kept kissing and biting his bottom lip. your hands had already made their way to undoing his buckle by the time he managed to lock the door. expletives leaked from his mouth as yours left kisses down his neck–as soon as your hand got him out of his pants, you took no time to tease him through his underwear and reached in to touch him properly.

“god, fuck.” he hissed as he pressed his back into the stall door. a gulp left his lips before he spoke again, this time more nervously. “h-hughie- i’m hughie.”

you smiled at how sensitive he already was. “you ready to have my mouth on this big cock of yours, hughie?”

his mouth morphed into a small O shape as his brows furrowed and he nodded. “god, yeah.”

your hand held him in place as you licked the first long stripe along the bottom of his shaft and heard his head roll back against the door with a small thud and a groan. you could already see just how impatient he’d gotten from the littlest bit of touch from you–after a small kiss to his tip, you finally took him fully into the heat of your mouth. you bobbed lightly as hughie spilled praises above you and placed his palm to the side of your head. “fuuuuck, i can’t last like this- your f-fuckin’ mouth.. ‘s too much.” hughie gasped as his dick was met with the cold air of the room as you removed your mouth with a wet pop sound.

“then fuck me already.” you spat, licking your lips of the taste. he didn’t waste a second in pulling you up by your arms to kiss him again, his hands finding their way to your ass and squeezing as he drunkenly grinded against your figure. a line of saliva stretched between you as you turned your back to him and placed your hands on the wall.

a selfless moan left your lips as he began rutting against your clothed ass–the friction was far too much even for you now. hughie’s hands quickly made their way into the band of your pants and pulled them down in a quick motion. his wrist slid between your thighs and rubbed the very apparent wet spot now formed in your panties. “so fuckin’ wet already.” he spoke quietly as he played with the little coil forming in your tummy.

“hughie,” you desperately took one of your hands off the wall and intervened in his handiwork to slide your underwear over. “c’mere.”

“fuck, baby. o-okay.” hughie couldn’t’ve grabbed himself quicker into his own hand–he gave himself a few weak jerks before lining himself with your hole. the feeling of your warmth surrounding him was overwhelming. the two of you moaned in tandem as he slid in until he bottomed out.

“you- you feel so fucking good.” you spoke slowly, carefully, as the feeling of him stretching you clouded your mind.

“can i move?” he asked, his voice rasped and echoed in the room as you answered with a weak nod, too foggy to speak properly.

as soon as hughie saw that you were good to go he gave one or two slow testing thrusts in and out of your pussy, groaning as he pushed himself back into your wet heat one more time before really losing control: it was like a wire snapped as his hips suddenly smacked against your own much faster than before. the feeling forced a rather loud yelp out of your throat, and hughie quickly took that as an opportunity to wrap an arm around you and clamp his palm over your open mouth.

he leaned in closer and you could feel his breath against the shell of your ear as he whispered. “be quiet for me, pretty girl.” he kept his other hand on your hip to keep you properly positioned on his cock. “i know, i know- it’s so much, baby. i know.”

you could feel your eyes roll back at the tone change, the mix of his voice with the weight of him heavier on you was enough to send you over the edge.

no matter how much you whined into his palm, hughie continued snapping his hips into yours at a fast pace–you were close and judging by the way he began to sigh against you, you could tell he was too.

“‘m gonna fill this dirty fuckin’ pussy, okay baby? you want that? you wanna feel me spill out inside of you?”

you moaned far too loud for even his palm to fully conceal the sound as you nodded, your legs shaking as you felt the coil inside of you begin to slowly drive you mad.

“g-good baby. fuck- oh, fuck- i’m gonna- i’m-” hughie couldn't finish his thought before his legs shook and he filled you completely with his cum. and with a few more hard thrusts, you were quick to follow.

you both stayed in the position for a few minutes just taking each other in and panting while the music from outside of the bathroom became more noticeable again. once he eventually pulled out, he groaned as he watched his seed dripped onto the tile floor beneath you.

hughie helped you stand back up and rubbed the small of your back as the two of you shared another long kiss before breaking to pull your clothes back up.

“if you ever find yourself back here, look for me.” you mumbled against his chin, words weak.

he placed another wet kiss to your forehead as you melted into his arms for just one more moment. “i’ll be back.”

#★mmoonwrites #★ nighttime reading list #nsft #hughie campbell #hughie x reader #hughie the boys #hughie smut #hughie x you #hughie x afab reader #the boys smut #the boys x reader #the boys tv x reader #the boys #the boys tv #hughie campbell x reader #the boys amazon #x reader #afab reader

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michelle-is-writing · 1 year

Text

The Dress, Ben Hardy

Word Count: 3k~

Fashion has always been something I enjoyed. My fiancé, who has a good fashion sense himself, always lets me dress him any chance I get. Even when he goes to significant events like big award shows, my decision-making with clothes is still requested without fail every time.

"(Y/n), can you help me pick out my suit?"

"(Y/n), what shoes would be best?"

"(Y/n), which outfit should I wear?"

And with a smile, each time, I would respond happily.

"Of course, Ben."

Yet, every time I dress him, he somehow convinces me into dressing up as well before heading out into the scene with his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as my head rests on his chest. I enjoy dressing up Ben, and he seems to enjoy watching me get dressed up as well.

Tonight is no different, except the event is much smaller than the usual events we go to. This time, it's just a simple get-together for Ben and his cast members from Bohemian Rhapsody. Just as five rolled around, two hours before the dinner, Ben asks the question I got used to hearing after two years of being together.

"(Y/n), would you mind helping me?" I hear Ben ask, his head peering around the corner as his blonde locks fall against his forehead. From the living room couch, I smile and stand up before heading over to him as he explains. "I can't decide what to wear."

"I'd love to help you, love," I assure him, kissing his cheek. I watch his lips turn up into a sweet smile before I walk into our bedroom, his footsteps following behind mine. Looking into our closet, I quickly pluck out the set of clothes I like. The outfit is casual, but it's one of my favorites. The pants hug his legs just enough to accentuate his muscles, and I can't help but love them.

Handing Ben the black button-up top with beige pants, I pick out his brown oxfords and sit down on the bed with them beside me. With a smile, Ben clambers into the beige pants, eliciting a small laugh from me. "I can't help that I'm a bit clumsy!" He points out, making me laugh even more.

"At least you recognize it," I joke, watching his slightly red cheeks dim down to a pink hue. I watch as he moves onto his shirt, sliding the arms on and straightening it out before beginning to button it. Before his fingers reach the second bottom-button, I stop him.

"Come here." I tell him, moving to stand on my knees on the bed to meet his height. Despite this, he still manages to tower over me by a few inches, making him smile.

Brushing Ben's hands away from the shirt, I begin buttoning it myself before moving onto roll up the dark sleeves. I finish the left one without a problem and switch over to the right one, my hands brushing against his skin each time I do so. Like the other arm, I stop at the middle of his bicep just as Ben leans forward and plants his lips against mine, therefore preventing me from doing anything else.

Giggling, I move my hands from his arm and up to his face as I kiss back at his eager lips. "Mmm, Ben," I say his name, only to be interrupted by another kiss. "I have," another kiss. "to get," another one. "ready too."

Finally listening to me, he pulls back with a smirk and plops down next to me on the bed, watching me as I stand to go into the closet. "Wear the (f/c) dress," I hear him say from the bed.

"Which one?" I ask, popping my head out of the closet. I soon find myself biting my lip as I gaze at Ben as he rests back against the bed, using his elbows to hold himself up while his legs spread out against the edge of the mattress. Right now, he looks comfortable while, at the same time, utterly delectable.

"My favorite," He simply answers, smirking at his own coyness. Shaking my head with a small laugh, I move to my side of the closet and find the dress he's talking about. Pulling the hanger from the metal rod, I hold it out to look at it and see if there's anything wrong with it. Thankfully, it's still the same (f/c) dress that Ben loves. It could be the neckline of it that makes Ben like it so much, or it could also be the soft, velvety material that it's made out of. Or, maybe, it's because the dress hugs me in all of the right spots, and Ben just can't help himself after a long night of unintentional teasing.

Pulling my clothes off and slipping on the dress, I slide into some black pumps before walking back into the bedroom, earning a wolf-whistle from the man I love. The action causes me to smile and roll my eyes, knowing I'm probably going to have to deal with his hands on me for the rest of the night. "There's my sexy fiancé," Ben announces before standing from the bed and walking over to me.

Almost immediately, his hands find their way to my fabric covered hips while his lips lower down to mine. "Uh-uh," I tell him, placing my hand on his chest. "I still have to do my makeup and hair, and I know that if I don't do it now, we will be late."

"But, babe!" Ben exclaims, his arms pulling me closer to him. "You don't need makeup!" He tells me with a smile, causing me to blush.

"But don't you like that lipstick that I always put on with the dress?" I ask Ben, watching him fight the urge to let me go until he finally, but begrudgingly, releases his hold on me.

"Alright, fine," He gives in, stepping back while dramatically hanging his head low. "But I'll be waiting!" He exclaims, popping his head back up with a contagious smile. "Patiently..." He bids, slowly walking backward out of the bedroom with his hand waving up and down.

Once again, I smile and roll my eyes with a shake of the head at his goofiness before heading into the bathroom and finish getting ready. I do my makeup and hair the way I usually do, prompting Ben once again to pull me close to him when I walk into the living room. Thankfully, it only takes fifteen minutes for Ben to temporally satisfy his urge to kiss me, making me glad that my lipstick is smudge-proof.

It only takes a few minutes to arrive at the restaurant, quickly finding Rami and Lucy already seated in a booth. "Did we make you guys wait?" I ask, sliding into the empty side of the booth before Ben so he can sit in front of Rami.

"No, not at all, lovelies," Lucy assures us, both she and Rami giving us bright and happy smiles. "We just got here, actually," She assures me, nodding her head once. "Somebody wanted to kiss me and then not stop when we were getting ready."

At her words, Rami looks down with a dark blush painting his cheeks and a smile that practically shouts "not sorry" taking over his lips. I giggle at her words before looking over at an innocent-looking Ben and giving him a small smirk. "Sounds like someone I know too!" I chide, watching as he gains the same look on his face as Rami's. Both of our guys are so alike, and I can't help but love it.

Conversations between us all come and go as we get our drinks and dinner, having a great time as we all joke around and share stories with one another. Once we finish our meals, we don't head out, and instead, Ben heads over to the bar to fetch him and Rami a pint. Choosing to stay at the booth with Rami and Lucy as they talk to each other, I stare at the love of my life while he talks with the bartender. A few seconds pass before a cute blonde moves to stand beside him and speak up, making my smile turn into a frown as I continue staring.

I trust Ben and all, but that doesn't mean that I'm not bothered by the flirtatious look the woman's giving him or the fact that he's talking to her as if he doesn't notice this. With the way she keeps throwing her hand, I can tell she's flirting, and if I weren't mistaken, the smile on his face shows that he doesn't mind it. Ben knows I can see him, so why is he doing this in plain view?

I hate to admit it, but as I watch it all go down, I feel my self-esteem lower as well. The blonde woman is beautiful, to simply put it. She could get anyone in this bar, and yet, she's trying to get the man that's mine - the man I love. Now that I think about it, Ben could get anyone in this entire world, but he chose me... why?

"Miss?" I hear a voice speak up to the right of me, causing me to look over and see the waiter standing at the end of our table with a small smile. "Did you hear me?"

With a flustered smile, I wave my hand with a shake of my head. "I'm sorry, I didn't," I tell him, blushing with embarrassment. "I wasn't paying attention," I explain. I was too busy staring at Ben and the girl at the bar that I didn't even hear the poor man ask me a question.

"It's alright," The man assures me with a polite nod and smile. "Can I get you anything, hon'?" At his question, I shake my head and thank him before he walks away. Only a couple of seconds pass before I see Ben in the corner of my eye returning with two glasses in his hands, handing one to Rami before sitting beside me. His eyes don't meet mine, and for some reason, he looks almost mad. Going by the fact that the woman back there was blatantly flirting with him and he didn't stop her, I can't help but grow a little upset as well, except my annoyance is for a reason.

Thirty minutes pass before we're all standing from the booth and bidding happy goodbyes before heading to our cars. Thankfully, Lucy and Rami didn't seem to notice me and Ben not speaking to each other, which is good since I wouldn't have known what to say. Meanwhile, Ben hasn't even spared a glance at me once and has chosen to practically ignore me with dull hums as answers to my questions. The ever-growing silence and distant attitude from Ben only further my frustration, and despite trying to pass it off and forget about it, Ben's not letting me by not responding to me.

Once we reach our home, I park the car and turn it off before we head out of the car and into the house, wordlessly. When we walk in, Frankie remains in her bed, feeling the apparent tension between her two owners as our footsteps sound a bit heavier and stiffer than usual. Walking past the couch, I toss my purse onto the plush seat and head straight to the bedroom. Surprisingly, Ben follows me, only stopping in his stride when I do so.

Turning around, I look at his flustered form and grow confused. His cheeks are red and puffy, almost as if he were huffing like a child, and his blond eyebrows are furrowed together in what seems to be aggravation. Not to mention his arms are crossed against his chest, causing the rolled sleeves of his shirt to stretch against his biceps as he taps his foot against the carpet soundlessly, almost like he's waiting for me to speak up, and so, I do.

"What is your problem?" I ask him, trying to sound as calm as ever, but unfortunately, a few hints of malice come out, making Ben let out an angered sigh.

"Oh, I don't know," He answers, shrugging his shoulders dramatically while shaking his head, his eyes squinted. "Other than the fact that you and the waiter were flirting when I left the table for a few seconds, I don't know what could ever be the problem!"

His words take me by shock. The waiter and I barely exchanged ten words - and none of them were even remotely flirtatious. I guess the term "hon'" could be considered flirty, but the guy seemed like he was just doing his job and being a nice person at the same time. Why is Ben getting so upset over this?

"We were not flirting!" I defend myself, my lips parted in utter disbelief. Ben barely listens to my words before speaking up once more.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention!" He imitates me from earlier in a high pitched voice while impersonating what could be considered a troubled and overly dramatic version of me.

"Oh, it's not a problem doll-face," This time, his voice seeps with venom in a raspier and less-deep tone than his usual voice. He must be impersonating the waiter.

Despite Ben using the wrong term, I still find myself shaking my head at his childish antics before shooting back. "Oh, so you were jealous of the damn waiter for merely talking to me whenever you were over by the bar, flirting back and forth with some chick while I was waiting for you!" I point out, crossing my arms before throwing my hand in front of me in a questioning manner. His face then plays the same shocked and almost confused reaction like mine does, making me scoff. "Wow, Ben, I can totally understand your reasoning."

"We weren't flirting back and forth!" He argues as if he were offended. His reddened cheeks puff in exasperation while he uncrosses his arms. "She told me she was a big fan of my work, and I thanked her!"

"Ben, she was staring at you with 'fuck me' eyes!" I sadly exclaim, throwing my hands up in an exasperated motion as tears fill my eyes. His face seems to soften at my sudden mood change. "And I didn't want to face the fact that I was jealous, but then, I started thinking about how easily I could lose you to any other woman that might come around and be better than me in every way," I slowly confess, turning my eyes to the floor beneath my feet. Ben then moves closer, wrapping his arms around me and gently pulling me close to him. Despite being so pissed at him, I feel my instincts take over as I nuzzle my head closer to his chest and slowly wrap my arms around his middle.

"And it hurt. So, yeah, I got lost in my own little world with my insecurities, and then the waiter came up, and I didn't hear him talking to me," Looking up at him, I stare into his green eyes as they stare down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I swear, Ben, I wasn't flirting with him-" Ben cuts me off.

"I know, I know, baby," Ben assures me, one of his hands rising from my waist to run his thumb over my cheek. "And, I swear, I wasn't flirting with that girl either," He promises me. "She was in my way of getting back to the table and then she started talking, and despite trying to get past her, the only way I got her to move over was whenever I smiled and thanked her over and over again. You are the only woman for me, for the rest of my life, and the only one I will ever need or want," He promises, staring down into my eyes with the utmost honesty just before he lets out a sigh. "When I walked closer and saw the waiter looking you up and down..." Ben goes on to explain, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "I hate to admit it, but I wanted to beat the living-shit out of that guy."

At his words, I giggle and stand on the tips of my toes to press my lips against Ben's soft ones. Instantly, he kisses me back as his hand on my cheek grows firmer and his arm around me pulls me closer, giving us no space between our bodies - just the way we like it.

After a few seconds of passionate kissing, we pull away, leaving us both breathless as his thumb slides up to brush over my now swollen bottom lip. "How were you able to tell that the woman was staring at me with 'fuck me' eyes from so far away?" He asks, his voice clouded with an almost cocky tone.

"Because I've been looking at you with the same gaze for the past two hours," I explain, watching a smirk make its way onto Ben's lips. Soon enough, I find myself being playfully tossed onto the bed while Ben makes his way down my body, lightly nipping at my thighs as he pushes the bottom of my dress upward, his hands lingering on my bottom as he does so.

"I don't know how I've been able to keep my hands off you this entire night," Ben confesses, "And, I have to admit," he starts, his green eyes peering over the bunched-up fabric of my dress. "even though I love this dress, I feel like ripping it off right now," He mutters, making me laugh. Despite his current animalistic feelings, I know he could never rip one of his favorite dresses of mine - he loves to see me in it too much.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben jones #ben hardy x fem reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody x reader #bohemian rhapsody imagine #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader

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myfirstnameisagent · 2 years

Text

MEDITATION [BUCKY BARNES X READER]

today's imagine is sponsored by comic bucky being everything

PAIRING: bucky barnes x reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: PETITION FOR MARVEL TO GIVE US ALPINE

THE SUN LOWERED IN THE NEW YORK SKY, sending waves of orange and pink hues through the knitted clouds. You trudged beneath it as the honk behind you confirmed your car's locking. Muscules worn out from a long work day, you began the mighty journey up the stairs that led up to your apartment. Eyes heavy, threatening to glue themselves shut before you even made it to your bed you moved to pull your keys from your pocket. Once more gravity was in anything but your favor as they clattered against the concrete, earning a groan from you as you bent over to pick them up. The sound of your back rivaled the Rice Krispies slogan as you stood back up, finally unlocking the door and pushing inside. The dim room smelled of your (favorite) candle, the flicker reflecting the silver arm of your boyfriend sitting on the floor. Barefoot and crisscrossed on his baby blue mat, hands delicately positioned on his knees. You leaned against the doorframe with a small smile, watching his chest rise and fall in a calm and controlled manner. Every breath was intentional as the soldier straightened his shoulders, Alpine mewling and beginning to lap at his metal fingers. You bit your bottom lip, carefully slipping off your shoes and tiptoeing to slowly lower your weight behind him with not so much a creak in the floorboards.

"You don't have to tiptoe, I knew you were here before you even walked in." He rumbled, voice soft and deep with a certain sweetness that made you weak at the knees.

"I was trying to not disturb you." You huffed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his sculpted abdomen and nuzzled into the middle of his back. "What are you doing?"

"Meditation. Recommended for those wishing to improve memory capacity and also those suffering from chronic insomnia. Lucky for me I double-dipped." Bucky hummed, letting out another breath as you felt the muscles shift beneath his skin as he relaxed further into your touch. You smiled at the action, peppering little kisses on the skin his tank top left exposed. Your fingertips traced his defined stomach through his shirt. "Has it worked yet?"

"I dunno, my shrink said it would." He tilted his head a bit, "Although I really do believe that woman is a sadist."

"Last I checked you had a thing for those." You teased softly, placing a kiss behind his ear before snuggling further into him and inhaling his musky scent.

"Only the ones that think their super-soldier boyfriend can't hear their hello kitty socks scuffling across the floor." He teased softly, both eyes now completely open as he reached down to place his hand on top of the one that was on his stomach. He intertwined your fingers, giving your hand a squeeze. "How was work, doll?"

"I'm too pretty to work. I should be laying on an expensive couch while my gorgeous boyfriend feeds me grapes." You huffed, running your thumb over the back of his hand. "How was your day?"

"It was fine." He chuckled softly, moving to reach around and gently prompting you with a tug of your hand to climb into his lap. You swung your leg over and sat, wrapping both arms around him. You rested your chin on his chest, sticking out your bottom lip into a pout. "Capitalism has traumatized me and I need a kiss."

Bucky snorted a bit, leaning in to press soft lips to yours as cold metal pressed into the small of your back. "I'm sorry buttercup, maybe you should join me tomorrow?"

"Finally, an invitation." You teased softly as you pressed another kiss to his lips.

"Well, the whole point is to focus and not stare at the gorgeous girl beside me who has found a way to even breathe pretty." He poked your nose, eyes creasing with the gentle smile you adored. You reached up and ran your finger along his bottom lip, the corner of your mouth twisting up into a smile as you took in his features. His dark hair framed tanned features, steel blue eyes filled with admiration. Although you did note the discoloration beneath his eyes, the footprints his night terrors left behind. You reached up and pushed his soft curtain of hair behind his ears, letting your thumbs move to trace his jaw. "I decided I need a nap."

"It's eight o'clock baby, I think that's just called going to bed early." He teased softly, dropping a kiss above your eyebrow.

"Well, I'm exhausted." You wrapped both your arms and legs tightly around him, squeezing your thighs around him a bit. "Mush soldier, take me to bed."

He chuckled, leaning down to blow out the candle before he scooped you up into his arms and carried you towards the bedroom where he gently sat you on the bed. Skilled fingers moving to pull off your shirt and pants before he turned to grab one of his shirts, not even bothering to ask if you wanted him to grab your pajamas because he knew you'd just snatch up whatever shirt he discarded when he climbed into bed for the night. You moved to pull it over your head with a happy hum, climbing up the bed and under the covers. Bucky moved to fix them around you and slowly began to stand when you snatched his metal wrist, keeping a tight grip as you glared up at him. "I know you are not about to leave me to sleep alone. The audacity."

Bucky reached up to scratch the back of his neck, giving a gentle shrug. "I should clean up out there, and then there's dishes and then uh.. that one thing you needed me to do.." He listed off, avoiding your gaze a bit as you tugged the arm closer to you. "James." You said firmly, giving him a look that communicated you both knew that all he wanted was to climb into bed with you, but anxious thoughts lead him to other ideas. Bucky sighed, moving to pull back the covers as he moved to scoot beside you. "I don't know when you forgot, but my name is baby." He mumbled as you felt the comforting duality of a warm and cold arm snaking around your waist.

"I think it's right up there with you forgetting that you don't have to act like we both know why you don't want to go to bed." You hummed, snuggling into his chest as you felt his nose press into your hair and his gentle breath on your scalp.

"I guess we'll see if this meditation business is all it's cracked up to be." He mumbled, and you could feel by the way his breaths grew slower and his words became less clear that even the strongest of super-soldiers were still human, and even they couldn't outrun pure exhaustion. You smiled gently as his eyes began to flutter closed as you ran your finger along his spine. As the setting sun now dissipated into a clear black blanket with flecks of sparkling stars spread within it, you felt Bucky's usually tense form begin to unwind and unravel beneath your touch as gentle snores filled your ear. As creepy as it sounded, you enjoyed watching him sleep. The furrowed brows and darting gaze that spent every moment waiting for something to jump at him from the shadows were relaxed and at rest, along with the troubling and anxiety-ridden thoughts that raced behind those steely blue eyes. beneath Moonlight shimmering through the window panes and illuminating the soldier's metal arm helped coax you into a state of peace that resulted in you drifting off, cocooned in the soft blankets and natural warmth from the man beside you.

#bucky fic #BUCKY BARNES #BUCKY BARNES X READER #BUCKY BARNES X YOU #BUCKY BARNES X Y/N #WINTER SOLDIER #WINTER SOLDIER X READER #james buchanan bucky barnes #marvel x reader #marvel #avengers

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bubbleseo · 10 months

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I just got a thought 🥹 imagine SpiderMan!Ricky testing his new webs on you by tying your hands/legs up and a vibrator on you. He turns it off only when you break away from his web

he would have the idea to do this when you mentioned that your parents were spending the weekend away and he just so happened to finish a new web formula. even though you were home alone he would still come through the window because it’s become a fun little tradition. he’d come in with a big smile and it would make you nervous bc he has that glint in his eye that means you’re gonna get fucked up. immediately pulling you in for a kiss, he wouldn’t waste time and would do everything that he knows gets you worked up. biting and sucking your bottom lip, slipping his tongue inside your mouth, and even holding your hands behind your back so you can’t touch him. eventually he’d get too impatient and would pull away, telling you to be undressed for him by the time he got what he needed. as you pulled off your clothes, he would go into your closet to get the wand vibrator he got for you when he found out you just had a tiny one. when he turned back around and saw you sitting in the middle of the bed waiting for him he would lean over and kiss your forehead while praising you for being a good girl and listening so well to him. he’d push you down and bring your arms and legs to the four corners of the bed post. as he used the web to keep you spread out he would let you know of his plan by saying “i had an idea for a fun way of testing how strong my new webs are. i’m going to use my favorite toy on you and won’t stop until you get out. how does that sound?” your eyes would go wide and you’d start to pout because you know how strong his webs are, trying to kick your feet to throw a fit but they barely move. he’d just laugh and turn the vibrator on, trailing it over your thighs before ghosting it over your clit. the stimulation would make you jump and let out a surprised moan. at first he would run it all over your body, going over your chest and circling your nipples before taking it back down to your inner thighs. you wouldn’t really start trying to get out until he stopped moving the vibrator and left it against your clit and turned it up even higher. yanking your arms and legs and even trying to just slip out of it instead of breaking it. it was slowly fraying, but not fast enough as he had you cumming multiple times in a row. after the third orgasm you would be screaming from the overstimulation and he would just press it into your clit harder. twitching and thrashing, you’d end up squirting all over his nice white shirt. with each spray of liquid you jerked harder trying to curl in on yourself. finally the web snapped and he would turn it off. ricky could tell from the faraway look in your eyes that you couldn’t take anymore so he would break the rest of the webs and clean you up, looking through your dresser to find one of his oversized shirts and pairs of boxers to dress you with so it wouldn’t cause any more stimulation. he’d just pull you into his chest and tug the blankets over both of you, cooing and wiping away your sweat. “you’re so strong sweetheart. managed to break my strongest webs yet. took it all so well too sweet baby” :(((

#zb1 smut #zb1 hard hours #ricky smut

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

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Hiii how are you??

Could you please write a manon x reader where the reader has been working for weeks and is so stressed about everything, and then she decides to have some ice cream but then the damn ice cream falls and that’s her final straw. She breaks down. Because GOD she just wanted to enjoy the damn ice cream, and her five minutes of rest. And then Manon comforts her (if you’re wondering why this is very detailed, this happened to me today except no one comforted me. I’m genuinely losing my shit. Anyways I love you so much, keep slaying.)

just one afternoon

Manon x Reader

Summary: Manon figures out how to comfort reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ll figure out how to send Manon to comfort you, I hope you’re having a better day today and I love you!

Things have been … hectic, recently and you pulled ten hour days, working non stop to try and resolve all of the small issues that seemed to pop up. One after the other, no relief or time to think. Manon had been just as busy, and at night the two of you would fall into bed, barely exchanging a few words before you slipped into a deep sleep.

Finally, you managed to get yourself a free afternoon. It was the middle of the summer in the Witch Kingdom, and the harsh sun seemed dug into your skin, leaving a comforting warmth in its wake. Maybe you’d wake up with a burn tomorrow. Right now you wouldn’t worry about that - instead you found yourself walking the path to your favorite section of the city. The food vendors. An ice-cream stand stood, a small umbrella shading the area. You ordered your favorite, and the small cone pressed into your hand filled you with a different kind of glee, and you headed back to the castle with a smile on your face.

You’d taken three steps into your room, intending to sit and enjoy the treat before your foot snagged on a corner of the carpet. You managed to catch yourself, but watched as the cone slipped from your hand.

Tears began to fill your eyes, and you cursed loudly, staring down at the floor. Your chest started heaving, and your bottom lip quivered. One thing, that’s all you wanted - just this one thing. You heard the door shut and open behind you, and saw her from the corner of your eyes.

“Just … relax.” Manon said hesitantly, her tone gentle. You know she’s trying to be comforting but she said the exact wrong thing.

“Don’t tell me to relax,” you snapped. She frowned at you, watching your chest heave, your sobs barely held back. Ice cream pooled at your feet, dripping down your wrist. She stepped around the small puddle, gently tugging you away from it. Her arms wrapped around you, nails running gentle scratches up and down your spine.

“You need to take a break.” Her hands ran through your hair, catching slightly on the tangles.

“Pot. Kettle.” You mumbled against her chest.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She pulled away slightly to look at you, the golden eyes narrowed slightly in confusion.

You fought the urge to smile, “don’t worry about it.” She left it for now, but you got the sense she’d been questioning you about it later.

“Let’s go fly.” She responded instead, twining her hand between yours and leading the way towards the aerie. A genuine smile crossed your face.

#manon blackbeak x reader #manon blackbeak x y/n #manon blackbeak imagine #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #not proofread

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scarlettriot · 1 year

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Hide & Seek • 73 Days

Pairing: Kirishima X f!Reader

Warnings: Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI, Trespassing, Vigilanteisum, Blood, Passing Out due to Injuries, A Very Corrupt Commission

Contains: Aged-up characters to late 20s. Reader is a vigilante, Kiri is still a Pro (for now). Reader makes changes to her appearance as a means of disguise. Reader also has a quirk. Kiri calls Reader Sweets as a nickname.

Summary: When a mission goes very wrong, you decide you can't be a part of the cover-up and therefore go off-grid. Kiri can't stop looking for you though.

Tag List: @meggsngrits • @weebaboobs • @katditca • @silverhairsimp • @bigmooncheeks

Word Count: 2,532

A/N: Brand new series! I hope you all enjoy it. If you saw my post regarding this fic a few hours ago and read the blurb, you can skip to below the cut. My editing on this is probably ass so sorry in advance. Happy reading ♥️

There was more than one type of villain in the world. They didn’t all wear dark clothes or hide in the shadows of back alleys.

Being a Pro Hero allowed Eijiro to see the very scum of the earth. People who got their rocks off by doing some of the vilest of things. But, what he was never able to wrap his brain around was the fact some of those people blended into the daily masses. They existed right in front of his nose, and there wasn’t a damn thing he, or any other Pro, could do about it.

They were untouchable.

It was all pretty words and red tape that kept the heroes in line. Being led to believe they were doing everything for the right reasons so they could rest easy at night. But, Eijiro wasn’t resting easy anymore. Each time he signed a new NDA or was told to withhold information during an interview or conferences, it was like a part of his very soul was being ripped away. What little he had remaining was torn away as soon as he read your letter…

He’d known something had been wrong after the mission. You didn’t immediately turn over the NDA but instead took the 24-hour timeframe they allowed and left work for the day. You didn’t text him aside from letting him know you made it home okay. He hadn't heard from you all night long. And then he woke up in the morning to find that fucking note slid under his front door.

You had to tell someone, it said, and he was the only person you trusted completely.

He thought he knew what it was going to say. After all, cover-ups were such a shitty thing to deal with, but this one, it was so fucking bad. It pushed you too far. He thought you turned in the NDA and were just going to take some time off. That you needed to clear your head. But it was so much more than that.

I can't stand by and do nothing anymore. Someone has to end this.

The note didn’t say where you were going or what you intended to do precisely; you didn’t want to put him in the middle of anything since the commission would be after you now. But there were a few words at the very bottom of the page that captured all his attention. He read them over and over:

I really hope I get to see you again someday. I love you, Ei.

You were one of his best friends, and now you were just gone?

No. No, that couldn’t be right. He couldn’t accept it!

He was supposed to be in the office today but going to work was the furthest thing from his mind. He drove right to your house, hoping there was some slim chance you might still be there. He used the spare key you’d given him for emergencies and found your home in its usual state… minus you.

Your backpack was gone and your favorite sneakers weren’t by the front door. Those seemed to be the only things out of place. You’d left your purse behind with all the cards in your wallet. Cash was gone though.

He found your cell phone, agency access card, and hero license on your nightstand right next to the picture of you and all your friends at graduation. Stuck to the corner of the frame was a yellow sticky note with four words: I really am sorry.

Eijiro had held it together right up until that point. But with that yellow little square piece of paper in his hands, he sat on the edge of your bed and let grief and rage take over. It was like you knew he’d come looking. Like you knew he’d beat any commission agent here.

He left everything exactly the way you left it except for that sticky note. That little piece of paper he kept with the letter, tucked away in the lining of his wallet where he knew it’d be safe.

When the commission questioned him about your disappearance, he played the fool. Acted as if he had the same information everyone else did. Of course, he didn’t have to pretend to display hurt and anger. Those came naturally nowadays.

They went through your office and locker. Talked to all your co-workers. Tore your home apart looking for any clue where you might’ve gone or what you planned to do.

There was some twisted part of Eijiro that hoped you had the courage to do what none of them did and blow the lid off this whole damn thing. Expose them for who they really were. But, days passed, and then weeks, now months had slipped by, and nothing even remotely close to that happened.

You were barely brought up outside your group of friends anymore. The commission kept a file open on you, and it was well known that if anyone had information on your whereabouts, it was to be brought to their attention immediately. Until then though, it was just business as usual.

Patrols and missions, office work, and press conferences. The world went on, but your friends couldn’t. Certainly not Eijiro.

It was tearing him up not knowing anything about where you were. If you were okay. If you were safe. He felt sick, couldn’t eat like normal, and lost so much sleep.

Those quiet hours that should’ve brought his mind peace only filled it with worry. He’d pull your letter out, now fraying at the edges, and read it time and time again even though he had every word of it memorized.

I love you.

The two of you tossed those words back and forth between each other for years now. Since you were students at UA. Eijiro couldn’t remember when the meaning of them changed. When the love he felt for you grew into something bigger. But, he could recall staying up until dawn with you trying to sort through it.

A single night wasn’t enough to figure it out. Years weren’t enough time to figure it out. You both kept pushing it off because admitting love and being in relationships in your line of work was so fucking dangerous.

So, you’d hold each other a little too long, let your lips linger on his cheek, let his fingers fill the spaces between yours, and sometimes, warm each other's beds when nights got a bit too lonely. It was enough. Or that’s what he told himself.

But now, in these ungodly hours, he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and never let you go again. He wanted to kiss you and pour out his heart. And he would. Gods, he was going to if it was the very last thing he did. He’d never give up on finding you. If he couldn’t bring you home, then he’d go wherever the hell you were because he was confident, now more than ever before, that wherever you were was where he was meant to be.

For 72 days, his determination never once wavered. The search for you was completely off the radar, so the commission wouldn’t have a clue he and the rest of your friends were still on the hunt to find where you’d gone.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they had found out. You were wanted after all, and they were under strict orders to bring you in if found. Not that any of them intended to do such a thing if they ever actually did find you. When they found you.

The search was exhausting. In Eijiro’s free time, he visited your favorite places, hoping you might have a craving for your favorite drink from that little cafe you always went to. Or, on nice days, he’d head into the park and walk right by that tree you loved reading under. Even when he was on the clock, he’d use his patrol shifts to ask around, hoping someone matching your description might sound familiar to a shop owner. He stopped into the hospitals on many occasions or asked around hotels. Anything he could think of!

For 72 days, there hadn’t been a single lead. But, the 73rd would bring a ray of hope in the form of an envelope tucked away in a file he’d just received.

I can only buy you a day's head start before the commission sees this too…

Eijiro knew Kyoka’s quick slanted writing. She went on to explain that a woman had been spotted lurking around the warehouse district for the last three nights. There was no detailed description, not by a long shot! Just a feminine figure, in their twenties maybe, wearing dark clothes with a hood. There wasn’t a hint about if they had a quirk or not. The whole report would probably be laughed off by the commission, and maybe that was a good thing. They weren’t desperate for a lead like Eijiro was. Things they just blew off, he clung to like a lifeline.

It nearly killed him waiting for night to fall. He made himself dinner and a drink to try and calm his nerves, but it didn’t do any good. He just ended up pacing around, nearly wearing trenches in the floorboards.

By the time he left his house, he had his bright hair tied back and hidden under the hood of the dark jacket he put on. There wasn’t much he could do about being as tall as he was, but he hoped this late it wouldn’t really matter. Still, just to be safe, he avoided the patrol routes he knew by heart while still taking the most direct path to the district as he could, making only one stop along the way.

It was a seedy little shop, but he needed a phone since he left his back at his house that way, it couldn't be tracked. If shit got real bad, he had a couple numbers memorized just in case.

He hopped the fence to the rows and rows of warehouses when the camera’s turned away. Hardening his skin to easily make it over the wiring at the top and landed on the opposite side with ease.

There was a lot of ground to cover. It would’ve been better if he had help, but he wasn’t willing to drag anyone else into this. At least, not until he had actual confirmation it was you running around here.

The rooftops of the massive buildings seemed like the most logical place to begin scouting. He carefully made his way in between buildings, peaking in windows just in case something might stick out, and then headed up the six flights of stairs when he reached an access point.

With the additional height, he was able to move around in the shadows more freely, keeping his eyes and ears open for anything that might seem out of place. The problem was, nothing did.

Two hours had passed, and aside from a couple trucks that seemed to be making legitimate pickups and deliveries, there was nothing out of the ordinary. No suspicious vehicles or dark figures running about (besides himself). But, he’d stay out until daybreak if it meant having a chance of finding you.

Another hour went by, and he’d been crouching low on one of the roofs he’d jumped over to. He had a decent vantage point of one of the few warehouses that had several lights still on and thought maybe something might happen if he watched it long enough.

He’d spotted a figure walking into and out of one of the beams of light, but they were moving slowly, reading something. He didn’t think much of it. But he’d been too preoccupied watching this person that he didn’t hear someone else creeping up behind him.

A pair of arms slipped around his neck before he knew what was happening, and he activated his quirk as second nature. The person held tight though, even as they hissed in pain. Eijiro stood, his arm reaching behind, trying to get a good hold to yank them off, but they just wrapped their legs around his torso.

For a moment, he couldn’t think if he should actually fight back since he wasn’t on duty, and he sure as shit wasn’t supposed to be here. But, any official security wouldn’t have jumped him without identifying themselves first…

They still pulled their arms together against the sharpened plates of his neck like they were determined to choke him out. He felt the warmth of their blood seep into the cracks of his skin, and enough was enough.

His fingers cracked and sharpened to their claw-like points. Reaching behind him again, Eijiro ripped through the fabric of their top and pierced right through to their flesh. He threw them over his shoulder, and they landed hard with their back smacking down on the cold cement roof.

He wasted no time. Eijiro yanked their hood off and watched hair spill out that he didn’t quite recognize. But, when their eyes cracked open, gods, he would’ve recognized those eyes anywhere.

Fear pumped through his veins and brought him to his knees.“Y/N…” He’d finally found you only to throw you on your back and see blood trickling from the edge of your mouth.

“Ya got me good this time, Eiji.”

He knew he did too. Your blood ran hot down his fingers and it made him feel ill.

You coughed, and more came up with it. Not willing to waste a second more, he gathered you up in his arms and tried not to think about how hard you hit your head.

“Eijiro, p–please don’t take m’in. Just ‘tend like ya never found me.”

“I’m not takin’ you in!” He jumped down the flights of stairs back down to the ground. “I just gouged out a chunk of your back and whacked your head on fucking concrete! I’m gonna patch you up, and you’re not gonna complain ‘bout it!”

Your weak laugh made his heart clench. “If– If I don’t complain, will you lemme walk away after?”

He swallowed thickly, “If I can’t convince you to stay…”

He didn’t care about property damages. He barely even waited for the cameras to turn away before he was sprinting back to the fence and sliced a hole clean through it to get the two of you to the other side.

“I’ve almost found ‘em again, Ei.” Your head fell against his chest, eyes fluttering closed, and he ran faster than he ever had before down the sidewalk.

“Hey! Sweets! Don’t do this! I’ve taken you down way harder than that before, " That was a lie, "Don’t you go passin’ out on me now!”

“Gonna get ‘em. Go–gonna brin’ ‘em back…”

“Sweets–!” He tried jostling you in his arms, “Y/N!”

You were still breathing at least. He pulled the burner out of his pocket and called the only person he thought could help. “It’s Kirishima, I-- I didn't know who else to call. Can you meet me at my place? It's an emergency.”

#mha #bnha #mha fic #kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima hurt comfort #kirishima fic #scar's writing again 📕#best red rock shark ♥️🦈

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mad-raptorzzz · 1 year

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[ID: Multiple colored sketches of King from the show The Owl House. He is a small dog-like bipedal character with a horned skull for a head. One of his horns was broken and has a fissure in it, with the fixed tip being a slightly different color. There are two sharp fangs at the front of his skull with a space, then two round/squared teeth thowards the back. His body is dark grey with a lighter grey belly and tip to his tail. He has bright yellow sclera with pink irises and a red collar with a gold circular tag. In the top right corner there is an on-model sketch headshot of King how he appears in the show looking at the camera. The top left image is King reimagined in my style looking sadly downward. Here he has much scruffier fur that sticks up more. Also, he has two sharp fang-teeth and three round/square teeth. Below this is another drawing of King looking towards the camera in my style. The bottom left has King posed like a cat, with his back arched and his tail poofed out, small angry lines jut from his face. In the middle is my style King wearing the robes he has during For the Future. These are dark blue, light blue, and purple pajamas with a hood and slippers. They have the Collector's insignia and yellow stars on them. His skull has a crack above the eye on the right side and he looks tired and scared. On the right side, there is a my style King looking happily up and to the right. And on the bottom right side of the image is a screen-shot redraw of King in my style eating a cupcake. He is crouched down and has his mouth open, about to shove a blue cupcake inside. The background is grey-blue. /.End ID]

King my beloved. Any character voiced by Alex Hirsch is always going to be one of my favorites. Bill, Grunkle Stan, Soos. Then you give me Hooty and King. My guy, just take all of the room in my brain why don't you. I loved King when he was just a fluffy little guy and I love that he has a complex backstory and man. They have given him some very sad lines. One of the saddest scenes with him I am working on drawing right now.

I drew a very show accurate drawing of him in the top right. The rest are warm up sketches of him in my style. A little more scruffy and a few more teeth in the skull part. One redraw of a screen shot too. I love his little yells of rage. Ugh. King.

#the owl house #the owl house fanart #toh fanart #toh king #king toh #king the titan #he's just a little guy #breaks my heart to hear him ask to play catch #I hope he gets to meet his dad

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fiction-pod-recs · 6 months

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For this weeks fiction podcast rec thursday:

Liars & Leeches

[ID/ The cover art of Liars & Leeches. It shows an illustrated white hand with red nail polish reaching in from the top left corner, ending about in the middle of the cover. On a black background it is framed by many textured gold painted rings. On the right side of the cover there are various translucent red splotches, mimicking blood. In white text in the bottom forth of the canvas it reads “Liars & Leeches” in all caps. Below that, in smaller text it reads “A Hemlock Creek Productions Original Audio Drama”./End ID]

Summary as given, “Grief. Anxiety. Terror. Tonya Wright felt it all after the tragic murders of her sister and brother-in-law in a random act of gun violence. Struggling to travel outside of her home, she now lives constantly on edge about perceived threats that seem to surround her.

Retreating to the house her sister and brother-in-law once shared to process her grief, Tonya soon discovers that someone — or something — has followed her there. With the help of her best friend Natalie, and others she meets along the way, can Tonya overcome her fears before they completely consume her?

The first original audio drama from Hemlock Creek Productions, “Liars & Leeches” delves deep into the complicated horrors of grief, trauma, resilience, and steadfast human determination to uncover the truth. ”

The first season has been completed with 10 episodes and the second season is currently in production! The episode lengths average around 25 minutes each.

Transcripts are available and can be found here : https://www.liarsandleeches.com/transcripts Content warnings are also available, they are broken down by episode and general content warnings are also given at the start of each episode. Those can be found here: https://www.liarsandleeches.com/listen

Now for my gushing:

I love Liars & Leeches so much! The voice acting and sound design is incredible! And it is Heavy in the best way possible. Like wow. It portrays so many things and it is just amazing. Also, the idea of the [Redacted for spoiler reasons] feeding is my favorite kind of [Redacted for spoiler reasons]. It is times like this when I wish I knew more words because I can't find the ones to express how I feel about this podcast.

You can find them @liarsandleechespod

And that concludes this installment of FPRT! As always you can ask any questions or offer up advice, I’m always ready to learn. I hope the rest of your day/night is above average!

@the-sassy-composer

#liars & leeches #fiction podcast rec thursday #podcast recs #podcast recommendation #fiction podcast recommendations #fiction podcasts #audio fiction #audio drama #described

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triforce-of-mischief · 2 years

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Tumblr 101

This is an important read for anybody who is new to Tumblr and/or only likes instead of reblogs.

These icons are at the bottom right corner of every post you see.

On the left is the comment option, the speech bubble. Comments are a quick way to make your thoughts known on a post without reblogging it. Comments are good for chatting with someone after they answer your ask as an alternative to spamming their ask box. Commenting + liking is NOT an alternative to reblogging.

In the middle is the reblog option, the two arrows. This is the most important thing to know about using Tumblr. Reblogging is how Tumblr functions. When you reblog something (art, fic, meme, whatever), you display it on your own blog while keeping the connection to the original poster/creator. This is how creators get their works seen! If you like something, reblog it! I cannot stress this enough!

Reblogging is not to be confused with reposting. You will see artists say to not repost their art. This means that you are not allowed to copy-paste somebody else's art and make it into your own post. This is stealing, and it hurts artists. Reposting erases all connections to the real artist and makes it seem like you made it even though you didn't. If your repost gets reblogged by people who don't know better, all of the attention will go to you instead of the actual artist. Most people get very hostile when they discover somebody reposting art, so it's a good thing that I'm teaching you now!

While we're on the topic of supporting artists, let's take a minute to talk about commissions. Art is hard work, and therefore, art is usually not free. Most artists and writers have a Ko-fi or similar way of accepting tips and donations from people who like their work and want to support them. If you want something drawn/written for you, be respectful! Find somebody who has open commissions and ask them how much it will cost to buy their time and talent. Many artists and writers also open drawing/writing requests or prompts, which are free. However, free to request does not mean free to use. If you want to save and use somebody's art, you have to pay them for it unless they say otherwise.

Finally, on the right is the like option, the heart. Likes are the most misused feature on Tumblr. Here's a little secret: likes are useless here. Liking a post is not an alternative to reblogging. Tumblr has no algorithm, so the only thing that will support your favorite artists is you reblogging their work! Likes are little extras that you give along with a reblog, or drop on somebody's post to tell them that you see it. For example, I only use likes on my friends' text posts, such as answered asks or vents, or on something that I reblog as a reminder to myself that I've seen it before (and as extra love for the creator). When I admire some art or writing, I give them a like and a reblog.

An extra warning for people who have never reblogged anything but have hundreds of likes: you will likely be blocked on sight by a lot of people. Having so many likes but no reblogs means that you look like a bot and that you are actually messing up the system. Nobody will think that you're cringe for reblogging what you like! Now is the time to start interacting for real! Be free, have fun, and reblog to your heart's content!

How about the ask box? This can go by many names as customized by the user. This is a place for people to start a conversation, ask a question, or play an ask game. If somebody answers your ask and you want to keep talking, the polite thing to do is either comment or reblog it. Spamming somebody's inbox with individual sentences instead of keeping it in one post is time consuming and widely considered to be annoying.

Last but not least, your follower count. Here's another secret of Tumblr: nobody cares about your follower count! Nobody can see it except for you and it won't make you or your posts any more visible because there's no algorithm. If you want interaction, find some friends and cool artists and reblog their stuff. Very few accounts are considered to be "Tumblr famous" and frankly, you don't want that kind of attention here.

Please let me know if you have any questions! How you interact with this post is your first test so I can see that you are listening and learning! 💜

#tumblr stuff #tumblr 101

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kookstempo · 2 years

Text

busy being yours - myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader genre(s): fluff and some mild smut (?) word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grinding, mentions of choking, yoongi is a tease, mentions of hair pulling, mentions of an erection, he likes to grab your butt.

summary: you can't keep your hands off of the pretzels (or yoongi, either).

A/N: thank you, my stunning @daechwitatamic for having the words i needed, amazing reactions, and being such a qt and a mill (iykyk).

this drabble is about the to catch a dream/three couple! make sure to read those before to get some background hehe - masterlist

“You brought me flowers?”

“Is that my hoodie?”

You both notice completely different things about each other the second you open the door to your apartment. Yoongi is holding a bouquet of tulips in one hand, while the other holds a paper bag from the supermarket that is filled with snacks and drinks for tonight’s date. The tulips are coral-colored and they match the dress that you chose - on purpose since you know it’s Yoongi’s favorite - for tonight. Your boyfriend steps forward, entering the apartment; he carefully drops the paper bag next to the door and loops his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. His embrace feels like a warm blanket around your body that instantly makes you melt against him, humming in approval.

“Hi, my love…” you murmur with a serene tone, looking up at him. “Yes, this is your hoodie. I couldn’t bring myself to wait for your arrival, I missed you so much that I had to put this hoodie on to keep calm.”

Yoongi lets out a deep chuckle when hearing your explanation, moving one hand down to cheekily squeeze your butt as he leans down to peck your lips. You squeal in response, frowning.

“Hey, what was that for?!”

Bringing a hand to caress your lower cheek, you let go of him and move out of the way so you can close the door. You’re sure the neighbors wouldn’t appreciate this much PDA at night, or any time…

“Since we are all being so playful tonight. Just wanted to touch what’s mine.”

The way he says that so… casually makes your cheeks burn and your hands come up to your face to hide it from him before he can comment on it. The living room looks set - the couch has enough blankets (literally one since you always share a blanket with him), the table has been pulled closer for it to be easier to reach for the food, and the Netflix app has loaded already, waiting for both of you to choose a movie to play.

Yoongi has gone quiet, way too quiet for your liking. You turn around to see what he is doing, and the sight that greets you has you biting your lip to stop the cackle that threatens to leave your throat. He is struggling to open a hummus pack, lifting it and twisting it to find a different way to open it, yet failing once again. Shaking your head in amusement, you walk to the kitchen and lean over the counter. One look at the package is enough for you to recognize how it should be opened.

“Bottom left corner has a flap, use that to open it,” you suggest, pointing at the tab on the package with a teasing smile on your lips.

Before he can say or do anything, you move to the other side of the counter to enter the kitchen to help Yoongi… and to take a look at the snacks he bought. You spot Cheetos, Doritos, some already-cut veggies for the hummus. But one item at the bottom makes you gasp, alerting Yoongi. He knows his girlfriend enough to understand why she is gasping, and he pulls you away from the bag before you can take them away.

“No, no, no! Leave those there. You just have to wait a couple of minutes.” Yoongi scolds, grabbing the bag of Hershey’s pretzels and putting it away from you.

“Yoongi, wan’ them now!”

The whining lacing your tone makes him want to pout and give you the bag without hesitation. You shouldn’t have it so easily, though, and he doesn’t wanna hear your complaints in the middle of the movie when you run out of them. Just as you are about to make a run for the bag, he grabs your waist again and puts one hand under your jaw, making you look at him.

“Try that again, I dare you. Your pretzels will look prettier on the highest shelf there is here and I won’t get them down for you.”

“You used to be more fun, grandpa,” you sulkily mutter, getting out of his grasp and moving to the living room, plopping down on the couch with a sigh.

His eyebrows raise in astonishment, taking a quick look at you to confirm his assumptions - you’re sniffing to get his attention - with no tears pouring out of your eyes - buried under the blanket and you are holding a pillow to your chest.

“Sad…I have a blanket with all this extra room and no one to share it with.”

“Y/N, don’t be a brat and wait a little longer. If I don’t get these popcorns the way you like them, I'm not gonna hear the end of it.” He snorts, plating the last dish and opening the bag of pretzels so you won’t have to fight with the bag later.

You, undoubtedly, have him whipped.

“Why do you make it sound like I’m whining all the time? Be fair and square, Min Yoongi.”

“It seems like you’re whining now, aren’t you, doll?” Yoongi walks to the couch with two bowls in hand, setting them down on the table and going back to the kitchen to grab the remaining ones. “And you’re even using my full name now… I think someone is craving cuddles more than anything.”

Your silence is an answer. The way you snuggle against him once he finally sits down completes it. Yoongi moves one arm for it to rest around your waist and peppers your head with kisses. The feeling of his lips is something you will always love and would never trade for something else. He leans forward and grabs the bag of pretzels, placing it on your lap with a small squeeze on your waist.

“There, angry baby. What are we watching tonight?”

Flicking through many movies and TV shows, you finally agree on a movie before you run out of pretzels, and you show Yoongi this with a smirk on your face. With a popcorn bowl on his lap, a beer bottle, and a glass of wine, both of you fall into the plot of the film.

You can’t complain about the movie you chose - it is keeping you on your toes, the sound effects keep you alert, and Yoongi is enjoying it, too. This time, however, it’s not the Hershey’s pretzels that have you about to complain, but the way Yoongi looks right now is enough to make you want to forget about the movie and indulge in him. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip after a few drops of beer remain there and fixes his glasses.

You have gone too long without him, longer than you’d ever want to. He isn’t oblivious to the way you haven’t stopped looking at him - he reaches for the remote and pauses the movie, turning his head to look at you.

“That is not the look you give me when you’re about to complain about pretzels. What’s wrong? Are you not liking the movie?” He questions you, removing the bowl and the empty bag from your laps to pull you onto his legs.

You straddle his waist and give him a timid shake of your head, pulling him closer to your body by the collar of his shirt.

“Darling, look at me, c’mon,” Yoongi tuts, caressing your thighs with his hands.

Disobeying him, you move your gaze to his hands - his pretty, veiny hands. Unwanted memories infiltrate your head: the way those hands grip your hair and neck tightly, how they feel between your legs, how said hands grab your jaw as he kisses you. God, you need him to kiss you.

Speaking of jaws, Yoongi taps his index finger against it, letting out a deep hum. That’s enough to make you look at him, grabbing that same hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What’s up? What is bothering you?” He continues pushing you to understand what’s wrong.

You can’t bring yourself to ask him to kiss you, so you let your body language speak for you. You shift on his lap to be even closer - if possible - and nudge your nose with his, whining lowly. Yoongi’s free hand pinches your thigh and you whine again, about to complain, yet his words beat you to it.

“Speak up, doll. What do you want? Because I’m getting an idea but it’s better if you tell me instead of just whining.”

“Fuck, kiss me. Please?” You beg, bouncing impatiently on his lap.

The kiss comes sooner than you expected Yoongi to give it to you. It’s desperate, needy. His grunts fill the silence in the room now that the movie is paused; it’s almost as if he is swallowing the whimpers that leave your mouth. You tilt your head to the side to make the kiss deeper, sucking on his bottom lip and letting it go with a giggle that Yoongi appreciates, but makes revenge established by grabbing your hips and rolling them against his, letting you feel how hard he is becoming for you, because of you. Everything inside you feels warm, fuzzy - your senses are screaming Yoongi’s name.

When air becomes a need, you break the kiss and lean your forehead against his, panting.

“I don’t think I will ever understand why you continue to dress up so pretty for me if it’s going to end up discarded on the floor at the end of the night,” he murmurs, tone low and seducing. He is eating you with his eyes, pulling at the hem of his hoodie to discard it from your body, and you allow him to.

“Mmm, always wanna look cute for you.”

You bring your hands to your hair to tame it down, both the kiss and the hoodie disheveling it. Yoongi’s gaze drops to your cleavage when you lift your arms, a sneaky hand making its way to your stomach, threatening to move to your breasts.

“Is there something else waiting for me below the dress?” He lets his hand drop to your thigh again like the teasing little thing he is, laughing at the way your shoulders fall.

“Wanna,” you gulp, releasing a shaky breath right on his lips, “wanna find out?”

The growl Yoongi emits when your hands pull at the straps on your dress, close to freeing your breasts, makes the need you’re feeling become bigger, thighs trying to rub together to get some friction. He is quick to pull you back to his mouth, not without pulling your dress off of your body first, then meeting your lips in a passionate kiss.

What was the movie’s title? You don’t care or even remember anymore.

#red five diamonds in my queue #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi one shot #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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