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#not a specific scene ok thanks

boxwinebaddie · 2 months

Note

I drew some super cringe fanart for tkok and night flight 😔 so soz if it’s like inaccurate or too sketchy I hate coloring and one of them is literally not done and I can’t bring myself to finish it but I wanted you to see anyways

I HOPE ITS OKAY THAT I PUBLISHED THIS!!!! BITCH!!! BESTIE!!!! I'M FUCKING OBSESSED!!!! YOU HAVE A GIFT!!!! THESE ARE BEAUTIFUL WOOOOOOW!!!!! I AM FLOORED ;-; <33333333

also, i just want to say, how much it means to me that you drew art centered around the two ninaverse universe/style ships that almost Never get asked about like??? my eyes are welling up with tears. ;-;

this is so thoughtful and beautiful, baby!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! like the intricacies of the night flight kite design, like do you live in my head holy shit??? THE TAIL!!!! *regular not toolshed stan vc* I LOVE MY GLOWY 7FT TALL CELESTIAL ALIEN BF WHO DOESN'T KNOW WHAT A LOT OF ENGLISH WORDS MEAN AND IS SO PRETTY!!!!

i actually had a surprising sudden spike in asks about my tfbw style in everything is going to be o.k :) aka the working title of my 'fanfic' aka 'ok' if i talk about it on here which is short for operation kevin. AND I ACCIDENTALLY GOT HYPERFIXATED ON IT, I AM DEVELOPING SO MUCH LORE AROUND HOW THE MUTATIONS STARTED AND SOCIETIES REACTION TO MUTANTS/ALIENS/OTHER SPECIES!!!

eeeeee!!!!! all this to say please, please, PLEASE ask me about ok anytime i actually actively encourage it. <3333 I LOVE U ALIEN KITE!

but in the vein of fanfics you can ask me about anytime. tKAAAAAAAAKKKKK!!!!! THE SOUDN I MADE!!!! I THOUGHT THAT I WAS THE ONLY PERSON ON EARTH THAT CARED ABOUT MY TSOT STYLE YURI!!!! I'M FUCKING OBSESSED WITH YOU HELLO!!!!

me: tries to weave tkak into every ask answer on here

i have mental problems like i fucking love stas. i know her name is literally criminally insane but she is so cute and loyal and strong!!!! i'm also developing her lore and specifically all the recruits/characters in the challenge of champions and i am SOOO EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!!! AAAA!!! ALSO HALF ELF HALF FAE BRAT PRINCESS KYLIE WHO WANTS TO BE A DOCTOR!!!! OBSESSSEEEEED!!!! stop she looks so pretty like literally all three of them, no jokes, exactly how i pictured them in my head...i am stunned to near tears.

tldr: please ask me about ok, my crazy dystopian fucked superhero au featuring the world's most bat shit insane love square EVER

or tkak, if you enjoy dramatic high fantasy girls being in love, really intense, bloody, brutal fight scenes, tender longing, or solider girls pretending to be solider boys, or rather, a girl failure pretending to be boy success...badly.

AND I LITERALLY AM OBSESSED WITH FANART!!! I'M OBSESSED WITH ANY AND EVERYTHING YALL DO WITH MY FANFICS!!! YOU CAN DRAW OR MAKE ANYTHING YOU WANT LIKE THE FACT THA YOU CARE OR LIKE MY NCU CHARACTERS ENOUGH TO DRAW THEM MEANS EVEEEEEEERYTHING TO ME!!!!!!

i'm love you, darling.

thank you so much for sharing you gift with us.

-uncle nina, branch in both eyes.

#when i tell you i started crying #blubbering like a baby #i can't believe this this is fucking gorgeous holy shit like the coloring the fact that you nailed kite's night sky cloak #i am literally screaming so much theyre SOOOO PRETTY #ugh they are so ethereal i am stunned #also this is a secret but i actually specifically really like kite kyle in gigantic alien form and stan who is like 6ft but looks tiny #and stan helping them figure out human words and idioms and phrases haha stan being the peoples human prince in the undercity #kyshed is also iconic like kyle drawing toolshed and what he might look like under the reflective glasses the green scene and voice mod #LITERALLY ASK ME ABOUT OK :) ANYTIME I LOVE MY FUCKED UP SUPER POWERED SCIFI SOCIETY FANFIC #bestie...the tkak...I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS DAY HAS COME #DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE TKAK #I LOVE TKAK SO MUCH LIKE I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST ME OH MY FYUCKING GOD UR MY HERO #STAS LOOKS SO COOL HOLY FUCK I WOULD GO TO BATTLE FOR U MISS STAS ANYDAY!!! MEDIEVAL MULAN!!!#KYLE IS GIVING SUCH WONDERFUL WOODLEN FAIRY ZELDA ENERGIES SHE IS SO DAINTY PLS KISS ME KYLIE #i fucking love stas and kylie literally not future kylie having comphet like oh god do i like men what the fuck is happening #bc she likes stas as stan heeeeelp skalhdkahdsd #not the temptations of the flesh!!!!#I CANT BELIEBVE YOU DREW MY TWO LEAST TALKED ABT STYLE AUS I LOVE YOU SO MUCH UR MY HERO #not my hyperfixation on ok and tkak coming back #this is ur fault but thank you

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luveline · 6 months

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hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?"

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?"

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–"

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–"

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend."

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?"

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club."

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up.

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up."

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?"

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys."

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity.

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks.

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot."

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring."

"Can we meet her?"

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever."

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely.

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute."

"She is."

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."

#derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan x fem!reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan fic #derek morgan fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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bad268 · 6 months

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Hey. I love your blog. It's amazing. Is it possible for you to write about actress reader x colby brock. Like they are each others favorite and Sam and colby invite her to one of their investigations. Like in one of her interviews found out that their her favorite YouTubers and colby might ask her on a date?

Thank you so much 💗

Tweets (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co.

Requested: Clearly (I had a little too much fun with this one lol)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 1087

Summary: An unearthed tweet leads to shocking revelations (with a best friend's intervention).

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)

It all started with a resurfaced tweet from 2015…

I can’t say it was a lie, but it was before my big break, and I didn't have a manager running my social media accounts 24/7. I was just a normal teenager on Vine with time to kill. And now, I thought it was coming back to haunt me, pun intended.

That was until I received a DM from Colby himself asking me to be a part of their yearly tradition, Hell Week. At first, I was starstruck, but I would have been crazy to decline.

So that’s where we are now: preparing for the Conjuring House. A place of extremes. A place I told myself I would never go to because of how insane it is, yet here I am. And, of course, it’s going to be for a week.

I was invited to Sam and Colby’s place to go over the specifics of the trip. I had just finished filming my latest movie, which was coincidentally being filmed in Las Vegas, so as soon as my scenes were wrapped up, I set off for their house.

By the time I got there, everyone else who was invited was already there. At least, I assumed with the number of cars in the driveway. I was still in stage make-up, but thankfully, I had changed into something more comfortable before I left the set. I grabbed my backpack before jumping out of my car, locking it, and walking up to the door, ringing the doorbell.

Almost immediately, the door is being opened, and I am face to face with Colby. After a beat of us just staring, speechless, at each other, I cleared my throat. I chuckled nervously before saying, “Hi, apologies for being late. Filming ran a little longer than I originally planned. I hope I didn’t hold you all up too long.”

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he dismissed quickly as he stepped aside and ushered me inside. “Come in, and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. You’re staying and going with Sam, Seth, and me to Rhode Island, right?”

“If that’s still alright with you guys,” I replied, walking in step with Colby up the stairs. “I don’t want to impose on your personal spaces. I can go home, just say the word.”

“I would never kick you out,” he laughed, leading me down the hall and stopping just before the end. “Here is your room. There is a bathroom attached. It’s right next to the closet, and if you need anything, my room is right there.” He paused as he pointed to the room at the very end of the hall. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I’ll feel bad if it’s the middle of the night, but I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I replied as I walked in to set my bag down on the vanity. “I’m just going to take my make-up off and meet you guys downstairs if that’s alright.”

“No problem,” he said, “We’ll be in the living room and we’ll either order food later or go out. We’ll see how everyone feels.”

“Ok, cool, thank you!” I said enthusiastically as he left down the hall. I closed the door over as I walked deeper into the room. I grabbed out my micellar water, cotton pads, and hydrater before walking into the ensuite to clean my face. As I set them on the counter, I noticed a piece of paper.

It was a printed screenshot of Twitter. A specific tweet from Colby in 2016 read, “Give me a chance y/n.” The back of the paper had its own handwritten note.

“You have been Colby’s celebrity crush for years. I know you posted a tweet in 2015 asking if he was single, and I don’t know if it was a joke or not. I didn’t show him the tweet, but I can say he’s single now if that tweet is still true. Please just get him to shut up. -Sam”

I chuckled at the note before quickly cleaning my face to head downstairs. Everyone was sitting on the couch or on the floor facing the TV. Everyone except Colby. I glanced around the room, trying to find him, only to see him standing in the kitchen. He was looking through the fridge, so I walked up behind him.

“Can you hand me a water?” I asked, startling him in the process. He jumped up straight, sucking in a quick breath as he snapped around to look at me. “Did I scare you or is that residual energy from the Conjuring House?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off for a second. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting you down here just yet.”

“Kinda like how you didn’t expect me to see this?” I teased as I pulled the paper out from behind my back. Colby’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. He stammered, trying to come up with a reason behind it, but he could not get a cohesive thought out. “Don’t worry. I’d give you a chance.”

Colby stopped entirely. I could see the gears turning in his mind before he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, immediately meeting mine as he reached out to take the paper from my hands, setting it on the counter. He held my hands in his as he closed the distance between us.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” Colby whispered as he bit his lip in nervousness.

“Of course, I will,” I whispered back as a smile spread across both of our faces.

“How about after this meeting we get out of here and do mini golf and dinner?” He offered, leaning his head down to rest our foreheads together.

“I will take you down,” I laughed as I leaned more into his body. “Truth be told, I’m great at mini golf.”

“Okay, lovebirds, we get it,” Sam interrupted from the living room. “We get it.”

“Shush, Sam,” I quipped back as I snapped my head to look at the group on the couch, still holding Colby’s hands. “You’re the one that left the note in my bathroom.”

“Wait, there’s a note?!” Colby shouted as he immediately let go of one of my hands to flip the paper over, reading through the note. “Sam, I told you this in confidence!”

~~~~~

#colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagine #colby brock #sam and colby #actor reader #actress reader #colby x reader #colby x y/n #colby brock x you #colby x you #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #youtuber oneshot #youtubers #youtube

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clericofgale · 4 months

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The stars will be our bed

I'm seeing a very popular narrative that asking for physical sex during Gale's act 2 scene is better for his character development, and the astral scene is bad for him. Or at least not as good. While I do prefer the astral version more, I disagree with the notion that either one is better for Gale's plot development. I've done both options depending on the what felt right for that specific Tav at the time. As always, if that's the narrative you want to build, there's nothing wrong with it.

For me personally I think both are narratively sound for his character development. Yes Gale needs to know he doesn't need magic to be loved, but Gale also loves magic. It's his life, his passion and his artistic medium of choice. What he needs is balance, not total rejection. You want the man, and the magic.

"Tactful, Bowing to the player's desires"

If you insist on regular sex, that's the devnote that's attached to it. Gale is acquiescing to what you, the player wants. Gale wanted to share his magic with you, but you refused. He doesn't care either way, as long as he's spending the night with you. The approval numbers are the same. He obviously prefers the astral sex because it's what he's used to and confident in, but either is fine.

One thing we have to remember is Gale also uses magic to find connection. In the act 1 weave scene, Gale and you share thoughts over the weave. It's exactly what he's trying to do in Act 2 as well. It's a mind meld sequence using the weave. I don't think Gale is trying to use magic to as a front in this scene, despite the "I can wow you" sentence if you refuse. I think he's trying to share his inner self with magic as the canvas, and connect with you in this most intimate way. It's akin to Fane's scene in DOS2 where you share Source with each other and also mind meld.

Gale wants to distill a lifetime's worth of affection into one night because he feels he will die soon. The scene is his "Last Night Alive". Gale, the artist of the weave puts on his final and private show for his beloved. He weaves stars and invites light to the land of shadows. He's prepared for days for this whole sequence, and you only need to trust him.

If you do he leads you into his innermost world. First, where he feels safest, and the balcony that brings him comfort. Then the book of a thousand days and nights filled with his love for you. The amount of time he wishes he had left to show you his affection, physical or emotional.

But he only has one night.

"There are endless worlds out there. Countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. Too much for one night.. but we shall try."

The astral scene is him trying. He multiplies as he refuses to let go your hand. He caresses every part of your mind, body, and soul. Gale tries desperately to sear every fiber of your being, of the one he loves onto his own soul. He wants to feel everything you do, and the weave is capable of that.

"Your bodies and minds weave together in a masterpiece of intimacy. Never have you felt such wonder, such love - as vast as the universe itself, and just as heavenly. "

You are one and the same that night. Where Gale ends and you begin is a mystery; he is lost in you and you in him.

"We are all sensual vessels. Illusory magic lets us sail farther, and feel more deeply."

The scene is beautiful, both narratively and visually. This is not a man trying to use magic to demonstrate his worth so you won't leave him. This is a man trying to use magic to weave a tapestry from two spools of thread in one night. It's ok to let him do so. It's also ok to remind him he doesn't need to. Whichever feels right in that moment is the right choice.

They all end in giving Gale renewed hope. Magic was merely the medium on which it blossomed and thrived. Whether from a bed of stars or a bed conjured under it, your love is what gave it life.

Thanks for reading this way too long cold take.

#act 2 spoilers #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #gale thoughts #baldur's gate 3

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ddejavvu · 11 months

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ok but my favorite criminal minds specific trope is when the team needs someone to be bait and the unsub’s type is reader, would you pls write hotch just trying so hard not to lose his professionalism when the team realizes reader has to play bait??

There's a knock on your door, and you hope it's Emily. She'd know how to untangle this dress.

"Who is it?"

"Hotch," Comes the reply from behind the door, "Can I come in?"

"Uh-" You stammer, lunging for your tank top and throwing it over your head, "...Yeah!"

Once he gets the O-K from you he turns the knob, peering into the dimly lit locker room that you've been using to change. The outfit you'd been provided is a strappy ensemble, but the strings are intertwined with each other like stray yarn, and you don't know how you're ever going to get into the garment.

"I can't figure this out," You lament, holding the dress sheepishly between two fingers, "I think this is made for wizards or something."

Hotch chuckles, reaching for the dress, "Can I try?"

"Be my guest," You nod, turning to a mirror on the inside of one of the lockers and reaching for a comb, "I'll do my hair in the meantime.

Hotch absentmindedly fumbles with the dress while keeping an eye on your work, "Pigtails?"

"Well," You grimace, tugging one of the ponytails tighter on your scalp so that it sticks up and bounces with any movement of your head, "You know what they say about pigtails."

Hotch's face takes on a similar expression of discontentment, "Right."

While you pin some of your stray hairs in place, Hotch makes a breakthrough. The dress comes untangled, hanging between his fingers like it should have on the hanger.

"Oh my god!" You marvel, "Are you a wizard?"

"I was trying to keep it a secret," He plays along, offering you the garment, "But I guess the cat's out of the bag."

"Thank you," You gush, taking the dress from his hands, "I can't- oh."

The dress warps in your fingers. It hangs limp in your hands; apparently you'd grabbed the wrong strings.

"Uh- like," Hotch reaches for it, pulling a few straps up from where they're sagging, "That."

"Oh. Right." You grab the ones he's holding instead, hyperaware of his fingers brushing your own, "Can- um, is Emily here?"

"No, she's out at the second scene," Hotch hums.

"JJ?"

"Talking to the parents of vic #3."

"Hotch," You hum cautiously, "Could, um- could you help me get this on?"

He's still for a moment, nodding slowly after he processes your words.

"Yeah," He takes the dress back from you, letting you fumble with the zipper, "Here, I'll- I'll close my eyes."

"Thanks," You breathe, watching him lower his hands until the dress is close enough to your waist for you to step into it, "So just-"

"Yeah." He nods, letting his eyes slip shut as you take a deep breath. You take your tank top off first, then your bike shorts, and brace your hands on Aaron's to get your leg high enough to step into the dress. He doesn't open his eyes, but you can tell he wasn't expecting the touch.

"Sorry," You hum, far too close to his face as you shimmy your hips into the fabric. You try finding the sleeves, mindful of the straps, and his breath hits your face when he speaks.

"You don't have to do this." He murmurs, his lips moving mere inches away from your own.

"Hm?"

"This," He jostles the dress slightly, as much as he can with it around your waist, ""If this is too much, you don't have to go undercover. It seems stressful to me."

"It is." You nod, even though he can't see it. The movement shakes your chest slightly too, and with the way Hotch is crouched, your boobs bounce just below his jaw.

You take the time that his eyes are closed to admire his face like you can't when he sees you. There's equal laugh lines and frown lines in his face, and you're glad he doesn't overdo the latter.

You slide the dress the rest of the way up your body, fitting your arms through the sleeves and securing them over your shoulders. Then you hum, 'okay', and his eyes flutter open.

They widen at the dress, a maroon garment that hugs your curves and billows out at the waist. You back away from where you'd been nearly standing on his toes, tentatively turning on your heel, "Could you zip me up?"

"Mhm," He nods once, reaching for the zipper. It puts his hands on your lower back and you barely contain a shiver, something that you'll think about long after tonight.

"There," Hotch hums, securing the clasp at the top of the zipper's track.

"You're sure you want to do this?" He asks, his breath now fanning over your mostly-bare shoulder. This time you do shiver, but you hope he doesn't notice.

"I have to," You nod, "I'll be okay, Hotch."

"Alright," He nods reluctantly, his voice soft and careful, "I'll be across the room the whole time if you need me. Just say the word and I'll be there."

You pride yourself on not collapsing at his words despite your weak knees. You nod, "Thanks." And finally turn to face him with a nervous smile.

"Ready?"

"Ready," You nod, and he steps aside to let you pass him. Despite having let you go first he reaches the door before you do, pulling it open for you and letting you lead the way out.

"Oh," Morgan crows from across the room, "Killer, baby!"

"The pigtails are a nice touch." Reid smiles kindly at you, "Did you know that-"

"Yes Reid," You put a hand up, not intent on hearing nauseating statistics, "I know."

He nods, blinking rapidly at being cut off. But he's quiet, and that's all that matters to you right now.

"Okay, Morgan, you're with me," Hotch commands, "We'll be stationed around the club just in case Y/L/N needs help. And Reid, you stay here with Rossi. JJ will be out soon. Let me know if Garcia has any updates."

"Will do," Reid nods, and Hotch gestures to the exit of the police precinct, letting Morgan fall into step beside you.

"Nervous?" He asks, elbowing you in the arm.

You take a deep breath, nodding, "Yeah, a bit. But it'll help, I'm sure."

"It will." Hotch assures you, heading for the team's SUV and pulling open the passenger door for you. He pointedly avoids looking at the hem of your dress when you climb into the seat as it rides up your thighs, and he even tucks the fabric into the car so that it doesn't get caught in the door.

"Good?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for your confirmation. When he has it, he shuts the door, striding around the front to the other side.

"I think boss man's more affected than the unsub'll be," Morgan snickers, and you turn to glare at him while Hotch climbs into the front seat.

"Morgan," Hotch eyes him disapprovingly in the rear view mirror, "Whatever you're doing, stop."

"Told you," Morgan smirks at you, hissing at the slap you land to his forearm, "Ow! Hotch, control your work wife."

"You probably deserve it," Hotch drawls, pointedly ignoring the work wife comment, as do you. But everyone notices the slight rosy tinge to his cheeks, and as usual, Morgan doesn't know when to quit. You're happy for the excuse to check your phone, even if the text does make your face flush hot.

Derek: I know he helped you get that dress on, maybe he'll help you take it off tonight ;)

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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underoospeterparker · 5 months

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heyy!! ik u already wrote smth similar but could u write peter parker x reader with anxiety and he notices that they like fidget and wrong their hands and stuff when there’s feeling anxious or overwhelmed and he like lets them fidget with his hands (inspired by that one scene from The Bear) and/or comforts her and asks if she’s ok?? sorry that’s rlly specific lol, no pressure & i love ur work!!🫶

welcome to my 300 celebration!

"Hello?" you called out into the seemingly empty apartment, looking for your boyfriend. You slipped off your shoes and slung your bag on the chair closest to you. "Pete, baby, you there?"

There was a pause, a shuffle, and then a, "Hi, sweetheart," as Peter made his way into the living room.

"There you are," you murmured as he gave you a hug. "Missed you today," you said, voice slightly muffled by his sweater.

He smiled, chin propped up on your head, and then he pulled away slightly to give you a short kiss. "I missed you, too. How was your day?"

He pulled you down to the sofa with him, arm wrapped around your shoulders. You leaned into him, and started to fidget with your hands as you thought about how to respond to that question. "It was okay," you decided, after a long pause.

Peter wasn't sure you were telling the truth for many reasons. The first, and most obvious sign, was that he could tell you were anxious. Your hands were a dead giveaway.

He took your hands in his, warmth seeping from his palms to yours as he drew soothing circles on the back of your hands. "How was it actually?" he asked softly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

You sighed, leaning back into the sofa as you began to fidget with his hands instead, playing with his slender fingers. "Tiring," you finally admitted. "I have a lot to do," you murmured.

His face softened, taking one of his hands out of your vice-like hold to cup your cheek. "I know you do," he whispered. "And I'm always here to help. Whenever you need me." He paused, then joked, "Even if that means I have to loan you my hands for a while."

You giggled, and wrapped your arms around him this time. "Thank you."

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hunterwritings · 6 months

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𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐤𝐮𝐞𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐨

request: "Hello, I was wondering if you are ok with writing headcannons on what cuddling positions the Lin Kuei trio like with the reader? Thanks!" warnings: none notes: domestic lin kuei trio makes me FERAL

𝐁𝐢-𝐡𝐚𝐧

Bi-han is a man who cannot sleep without holding you.

His most preferred cuddle position is spooning. Most of the time he is the large spoon, he likes to feel like he's protecting you while you lay together. Anytime he's able to wrap his arms around your figure, he's happy.

He loves being able to hold his head in the crook of your neck and pull himself even closer to you. Every now and then pressing soft kisses to your neck and shoulders.

Rarely he will let you be the big spoon for him; it would have to be a time when he is extremely stressed or has had a long day. He'll fall into bed after taking off his arm gauntlets and the top part of his uniform. Once you make it to your room, you're surprised by the Grandmaster lying in your bed, already asleep and hearing small snores come from his mouth. All you could do was laugh, getting ready for bed yourself. You sit down on the edge of the bed and crawl under the sheets, reaching your hands up and softly drawing circles over his bare back. You hear a deep inhale and exhale come from his nose, showing that he wasn't quite fully asleep yet. "Long day for you?" You quietly ask, snaking your arms around his bare abdomen, lying your palms flat on his chest. He hums in response, pulling one of your hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles. "Aw Grandmaster, you deserve your rest." You pressing your forehead into his back muscles. "I can rest now with you here." He says softly, gripping your hand tightly. You smile into his skin, pressing a soft kiss against his shoulder before the two of you drift off to sleep.

𝐊𝐮𝐚𝐢 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐠

Kuai Liang doesn't have a specific preference for how you lay with each other, he's happy enough to be holding you.

One position he does like a lot is when he is embracing you. When the two of you are facing each other and you have your head against his chest while he holds you close in his arms. He wants you to be able to feel his heartbeat, to know that he's right here for whatever you need. You are a being to be worshipped by him and he is here to give you absolutely anything you desire. He loves being able to hold your head close into his chest and kiss the top of your hair as he whispers how much he loves you. Kuai Liang is definitely a romantic. "You have no idea how much this means to me, (Y/N). How much you mean to me." He whispers, running his hand up and down the crevices of your back as his other hand lies softly on top of your head. You smile into his chest before pulling back to look up into his eyes. "I just hope you know just how much I love you." He speaks softly, gazing into your eyes, moving his hand from the top of your head to the side of your face, moving his thumb across your cheek. You reached your hand up to hold over his as you pressed a kiss to the rough callouses of his hands. "I love you too Kuai Liang." You tell him before he leans forward and captures you in a deep kiss, one full of pure love and passion. Kuai Liang could stay in this moment forever if he had to, it would be his dying wish.

𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬

Tomas loves the idea of pleasing you. How ever you want to cuddle with him, he will happily oblige.

He also doesn't have a preference for what position the two of you lie in, his main goal is making sure you are comfortable.

He loves lying down with you in bed to watch a show/movie and holding you as you the two of you laugh at the scenes. One of the positions you find yourselves in most often is Tomas with his back against the headboard and you leaning against his chest, your arms snaked around his muscular waist.

A laugh will escape his lips as you two are watching, every now and then he'll lean down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

When he wants to sleep, he absolutely loves lying in between your legs with his head on your chest. Although Tomas is a big man, he knows how to hold himself over you comfortably without hurting you. He would give anything to lie with you for eternity, to feel your hands entangle in his hair as he feels the skin of your stomach against his cheek.

Once the movie you are watching ends, Tomas will shift from his position of sitting up and crawl down to you. "Getting tired Tomas?" You ask softly, half-awake. "Yes, I think it's time for bed." He yawns, plopping down his body between your legs and softly lying his head on your chest. You chuckle at his movement and reach your arms up to hold his head on your chest. "I love listening to your heartbeat." He whispers, looking up at you. "Aw, my sweet boy." You smile before he lifts himself onto his elbows to reach up and press a sweet kiss to your lips before returning his head back to your chest. Within minutes, you hear small snores coming from him, falling asleep with a smile on his face.

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boxofbonesfic · 11 months

Note

omg i would love a dark!Peter or a Ransom prompt 👀 it can just be an idea, or a specific scene or scenario, whatever strikes your fancy 💖

Ok! Ransom x plus size reader: college au, fwb. Ransom doesn't want to be seen with her cause she's fat and she's cool with it cause she's literally just here for the d while she gets her degree right? Ransom's an ass but that dick is bomb and no feelings are involved so perfect. But then Ransom gets addicted to the p and wants her all to himself, still on the dl tho. His changing feelings don't come out till she meets someone and breaks it off with Ransom. Reader doesn't think anything of it but Ransom COMPLETELY loses his mind and starts stalking her, blowing up her phone, etc. Not caring if everyone knows now. Reader is CONFUSED and MIFFED!

Title: Breaking

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 5,374

Summary: Ransom wasn’t eager to stake any sort of claim on you—until someone else does it first.

Warnings: College AU, Stalking, Kidnapping, Darkfic, Plus Size Reader, Manipulation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, MINORS DNI!

A/N: thank you so much for this lovely prompt! i really hope you enjoy this little ficlet. ❤️ divider by @firefly-graphics

Ransom had found it kind of funny at first, when you’d stopped responding to his rather crassly worded “U up?” texts. It wasn’t until the third text in half as many weeks had gone completely unanswered that he’d tried calling instead—and found you had blocked him completely.

What?

That wasn’t like you. Not like Ransom had taken time to really know you, but ghosting just didn’t seem like it belonged in your playbook.

“The number you have dialed cannot be reached at this time. Please contact your service provider if you believe you have reached this message in error.”

It had taken a little finesse, Ransom laying the charm rather thickly on your friend in his business management class, the one whose name he could never remember.

“She has a boyfriend,” she’d said, twisting a lock of her hair around her finger with a nervous giggle. “But I’m, um, single.”

Which brings him to now.

You weren’t the sort of girl he usually took out on dates, and, looking back on it, you’d picked it up rather quickly. Your requests to meet at parties or the bars his frat brothers regularly visited were answered with vague no’s. Or, more often than not, ignored outright until you stopped sending them. It wasn’t your fault—he had a reputation to think about. Though tonight, ironically, his reputation is the furthest thing from his mind.

What is on his mind, is you.

Ransom’s lip curls as he watches Isaac drape an arm across your shoulders, squeeing affectionately. He doesn’t know him well—they haven’t spoken much beyond the idle chit-chat around the keg. It turns his stomach, the thought that he’d finally realized just how much you meant to him, only to have this—this boy-scout steal you from right under his nose. Out from his fucking bed.

Ransom isn’t used to coming in second place. It’s never happened before, losing something he actually wants. Isaac seems happy to be next to you, not embarrassed or hiding behind baseball caps and wide sunglasses. Not like Ransom. He’s angry—at you, a little, but mostly at himself. It’s not hard to recall how you felt underneath him, all soft skin, soft curves, and fuck. He hates himself for not savoring that last time more, for not knowing it was going to be the last time.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Ransom Drysdale didn’t get dumped—he was the one who did the dumping. And, he, thinks with no small amount of derision as he watches you from across the bar, I didn’t get dumped. We were never together. You can’t break up if you’re not together. The thought rings hollow even in his own head as he nurses his fifth beer of the night. It feels stupid-no, superficial, now; the way he’d only drop by your dorm-room after midnight, showing up without calling or texting and knowing full well that you would let him in.

But not anymore.

You’re too far away for him to hear it, but when you laugh, you tilt your head back, attempting to cover your wide grin with one hand. Pretty, he thins to himself, taking another long swallow from the bottle. Fuck how had he not noticed how pretty you are when you laugh, before? Had he just never seen it? Now that it occurs to him, Ransom’s hard pressed to find a memory that isn’t just sweaty skin, and hungry words growled into the curls at the nape of your neck.

Fuck.

Those were his favorite nights, the ones he spent digging his fingers into the softness of your hips while he sank in to the hilt—Ransom shudders. Even through the condoms you insisted he wear, the memory of your slick, tight heat is enough to send a hot, jealous pulse through his veins.

“We’re not together,” you’d said, crossing your arms stoutly as you stared up at him. “Condom or nothing.”

Probably doesn’t make Isaac wear a fucking condom. He takes another bitter swallow. He doesn’t know what’s worse, the thought of you fucking that Leave it To Beaver reject, or you fucking him raw. Both make him see red.

“Right, Ransom?” Someone claps him on the shoulder, and Ransom nods wordlessly. He isn’t paying attention, not to them, not with you here. You lean over to say something to your friend, the same mousy one who’d volunteered herself in your place. Ransom scoffs into his beer.

“Three fucking weeks.” He mumbles, draining the bottle before placing it down almost too hard on the bar-top. “How’s it get serious in three fucking weeks?” He waves at the bartender, signaling for another.

“Ran, we’re heading out.” Theo jerks his head towards the door. “There’s a party at Jude’s place. Hella girls.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Drunk ones.”

Ransom shrugs bad-naturedly, grimacing. “I’m going to stay here,” he says evasively, casting another sour look at you as his lip curls. “I don’t feel like pulling your head out of the toilet tonight.”

“Whatever, man.” Theo rolls his eyes, squaring his shoulders. He follows Ransom’s eye across the bar, and smirks. “Just because you’re not getting your dick wet with your porky little sidepiece anymore doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay here and mope with you all weekend.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol warming his gut, but Ransom’s up before he’s really got a chance to think about it, his hands on Theo’s shoulders as he shoves him backwards, hard. The other man stumbles backward, and Ransom squares his shoulders.

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“What, now you care, all of a sudden?” Theo scoffs. “Dude you wouldn’t even let her come in through the front door—”

Ransom doesn’t know when exactly he grabbed a handful of Theo’s thin hair, holding his head still while he drives a frenzied fist into his former friend’s face as everyone watches. He comes to as he rears his fist back again, the sound of his name distant in his ears, like it was spoken through glass.

“Ransom!” Your confused face in the crowd is all he can see—which is why Theo’s sucker punch catches him off guard. It makes his ears ring as stars explode in his right eye. The world tilts as Ransom stumbles, and the television static in his ears is replaced by yelling. The warm wet trickle from his nose is blood, staining the tips of his fingers red as he holds his face. Theo’s not doing much better, blood pouring from his nose, and an ugly, swollen bruise coming to bear on the right side of his face.

“Fuck you,” Theo mumbles, drawing the back of his sleeve across his bloody lip. “Fucking asshole.” He storms out, a few of their frat brothers trailing behind him as he goes.

“Are you fucking serious?” The bartender throws down the towel in his hands, before smacking them against the bar-top. “I’ve fucking told you guys about bringing that bullshit in here—”

“I was just leaving,” Ransom snaps, shoving his hands into his pockets. He hates that he can feel your eyes on him too; watchful, judging. Theo’s gone by the time Ransom makes his way outside. It’s almost winter break, and the icy night air feels good against the hot, painful throbbing in his cheek.

“Ransom.” He turns, scowling at you over his shoulder. “What the fuck was that?” He shrugs miserably.

“Nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you fucking care?” The venom on his tongue flows easily, likely aided by the liquid courage currently sloshing around in his gut. “You blocked me. You have a boyfriend.” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting from this confrontation, but your distinct lack of a reaction feels like more of a slap in the face than anything else. You blink at him, one eyebrow quirked as if in question.

“Yeah, I did.” Why does it hurt? Ransom’s rejected hundreds of girls—some as he was fucking pulling out of them, so why does this feel like a fucking knife in his back? “I figured you wouldn’t care much, Ransom, considering.” He hates this, hates how he’s the angry one and you’re calm—the roles should be reversed. They would be, if not for that niggling, irritating feeling that you should be his, just his. He doesn’t want to admit that you’re right, that you’ve got him pegged dead to fucking rights.

“How would you know?”

“You don’t sneak girls you like in through the basement entrance.” You retort smoothly. You’ve had a lifetime of this, of learning to live in your body, of learning to weather other people’s reactions to it—it’s Ransom that’s unfamiliar with rejection, unsure of how to handle the fact that the “r-train” isn’t enough to keep you coming back for more despite his treatment.

“But I do. I do like you.” He says, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t do this. It doesn’t have to be a thing. We can just, we can go back to how it was before.” This time, you do react, your face screwing up as you regard him first with disbelief and then anger.

“Why would I give up being in a relationship with someone who actually likes me, who is willing to be seen with me in public places and with his friends— you know what? I don’t need this.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This is what I fucking get for trying to make sure you’re okay. Silly me. I thought we were mature, here.” You gesture between the two of you before another dry laugh bubbles out from between your lips.

“Have a good night, Ransom.”

No, no, don’t leave! The desperate thought makes his throat tight. You can’t leave me. He stumbles exaggeratedly as you watch, falling against the bus stop with a groan. The plan lays itself out before him neatly like lines on a map.

“God fucking dammit—Ransom!” You huff irritatedly. He leans against the pole, counting the seconds until you come over to check on him. You do, and he moans pitifully. “Can you walk?”

“No,” he hiccoughs, swaying cartoonishly as you try to help him stand. “Ju-hic-just go. I’ll be fine.” You blow an exasperated breath out as you straighten him up. She doesn’t talk to her parents. He licks his lips as you pull out your phone, holding it up to your ear as you wait for someone to answer on the other end. She told me that when we were smoking, that one time.

“I obviously can’t. How did you get here?” You say, holding your hand over the mouthpiece as you scowl up at him.

“Theo d-drove.” The house is only a ten minute drive from here. Fifteen, tops.

“Yeah, I’m just going to head back to campus. No, I’m gonna take an uber. Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow, Isaac.” The little smile that curls at the corners of your lips makes him sick. “Yeah, you too.” Ransom leans on you heavily, and you don’t seem to notice when he presses his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with relish. Fucking Isaac.

“I’ll get the uber,” he says, slurring the words deliberately as he fumbles with his own phone. “M’sorry, Princess.” He taps the screen clumsily, selecting Home instead of Dorm, before hastily stowing it back in his pocket.

“Don’t call me that.” You snap sharply. You try—and fail—to stand Ransom on his own two feet. Instead he hangs over you, draped over your shoulders with his chin resting on the top of your head.

“Why?” The question comes out petulantly. “You used to like it.”

“Stop.”

The familiar feel of your body pressed against his is sweet in a way Ransom hadn’t anticipated. The attic’s secure. Quiet.

When the car pulls up, Ransom allows you to wrangle him into the back seat, where he sprawls across your lap when you sit down beside him. You don’t say anything to the driver beyond a mumbled hello, which suits him just fine. Ransom plays up the drunk act, asking the driver a nonsensical question that makes you whisper at him to be quite.

“Sorry. Just trying to get him home.” You reply, pushing uselessly at his head as he settles into your lap. Soft. He can’t help but run a reverent hand across your jean clad thigh. Love how soft she is.

You’re so distracted trying to keep him from getting comfortable that you don’t notice the cab is heading away from the dorm until the driver turns down the private road.

“Wait—wait, I think you made a wrong turn somewhere,” you say, leaning forward to talk to the driver. He shakes his head enthusiastically, and points at his phone’s GPS.

“No, I followed the directions,” he protests, and Ransom hides his snicker in a groan. “This is the address.”

You lean back with a dissatisfied sigh, and look down at Ransom.

“Let me see your phone.” He unlocks it and hands it over, his face a mask of innocence. You notice the mistake immediately, leaning forward again. “Could you turn around and take us back to Harvard campus, please—”

“This trip was already way out of my route,” the driver grouses, frowning at the two of you in the mirror. “And I don’t think he’ll make another trip. Looks like he’s about to puke any second.”

“He’s fine.”

Ransom retches, and watches as the cabby’s face twists angrily.

“He’s not! I’m sorry, I’m done for the night. Maybe someone else will be able to pick you up.”

The finality in his voice makes Ransom giddy, and he clutches his stomach, gagging. He’s never thrown up—he’s not a fucking freshman lightweight, he’s a fucking Sigma for chrissakes—but he’s willing to let the two of you believe he might. You bite your lip, teeth sinking into its pillow softness as you try to undo what Ransom’s done.

“M’sorry. Didn’ mean to put in the wrong hic place.”

You nod stiffly. “I know. I guess… Well, this place has plenty of couches, right?” There’s little humor in your joke, but Ransom makes sure to laugh a little anyway, nodding.

“My grandfather won’t mind if you sleep in one of the guest rooms. Promise, Princess.”

“Ransom, don’t—”

“We’re here.” The driver cuts in as the car pulls to a stop in front of the house. “Sounds like you guys have it all figured out.”

—

As expected, the only people home are his grandfather, along with a few odd members of the staff. They’re easy enough to convince, Fran and Marta ferrying him upstairs to his room while he mumbles incoherently. You help too, tugging the blanket up over him after pulling off his shoes with a grunt. It feels nice, having you care for him like this, your soft hands on his face.

It feels right.

“I’ll get the guest room set up for you upstairs,” Fran says on her way out. “I’ve got a t-shirt around here somewhere.” Ransom doesn’t catch your answer, but that doesn’t matter much, not when he knows where you’ll be. It’s strange, how he’s impatient now, here at the home stretch, but he is. The smell of you, the taste, the feel, it’s all he can think about now that he’s so close.

It won’t be easy keeping you, he knows that, but nothing good comes without a challenge, right? And with the right motivation, Ransom knows he can make you fall in line. The house quiets around him, and distantly, he hears the sound of first Fran’s car, and then Marta’s. He forces himself to wait a few minutes more, and when he emerges out into the still air of the hallway, he smiles.

The door to the guest room is ever so slightly ajar, and Ransom slides inside. You sit up sharply, and for a moment only sound between you is the quiet settling of the house.

“What are you doing?”

“I came to check on you.” He can’t see your face in the dark, but he can see the shape of you, silhouetted in the pale beam of light streaming in from the tiny window above the bed.

“I’m fine.” The words are stiff. “You should go to bed.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Ransom turns and closes the door securely behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. The sound is deafening in the quiet, and he knows you hear it too.

“Have you texted Isaac, yet?” He asks, cocking his head. The room is small, shaped oddly by the sloping roof, and Ransom himself takes up the bulk of it standing in front of the door. You seem to shrink a little in response, and your hesitation answers the question truthfully, before you’ve even spoken.

“Y-yes. You should go to—” The way your hand strays under the pillow to feel for your phone tells him the opposite. Ransom licks his lips.

“Have you fucked him yet, Princess?”

Your gasp is audible.

“Don’t—don’t call me that. Ransom go to bed. You’re drunk.”

“Have you fucked him?” He repeats it, dropping to his knees on the bed.

“Get out!” You make for the door too late, and Ransom grabs you, wrapping an arm securely around your waist as he breathes a relieved sigh into your bare shoulder. Your frustrated struggle turns panicked at the sound of metal clacking against metal. “No, Ransom no—” The handcuffs he produces from his pocket aren’t the padded ones he’s used with you before—these are the real deal, and he clamps them tightly around your left wrist, looping it around the bed-frame before capturing your right. You’re writhing and fighting, but it’s easy to ignore the pain as he locks his arms tight, waiting for you to tire yourself out.

You’re wearing just a t-shirt, and Ransom palms the heavy weight of your tits through the soft cotton with a soft groan.

“So you haven’t fucked him.”

You open your mouth to scream, and Ransom laughs.

“Nearest person is two floors down, Princess,” he breathes, a low, satisfied hum rumbling in his chest as he draws his fingers through your messy hair, before tangling his fingers in it to tug your head back. His teeth scrape at your throat. “You can scream if you want to,” he mumbles against your pulse. “You know I like it when you’re loud.”

“Ransom, stop. You’re—”

“Drunk?” He answers smartly, before shaking his head. He cups your face with one sure hand, stroking your lip with the pad of his thumb. “I know you feel bad, Princess. You let me fuck that juicy cunt so quick, you thought you needed to make him work for it.” This close he can see your face, can see the guilt you quickly try to bury because he’s right. The answer is there, written in the way you turn your head away from him, trying to hide your face in shadow. Ransom doesn’t let you, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers as he forces you to stay still, to look him in the eye.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit hoarsely, and Ransom laughs. “You’re fucking drunk and-and—get off me!” You shrill, bucking against him uselessly. If he’s drunk, that’s what he’s drunk on; the heady sensation of knowing the truth with absolute certainty.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, pressing you down into the mattress. The smell of your skin is intoxicating, like orange blossoms and fucking sunshine. “Fuck, Princess, I missed this.” It’s almost reverent, the way he slides his hands down over your hips, slowly working a knee between your stubborn thighs. Your borrowed t-shirt rolls up as Ransom spreads your legs, grinning at the sight of white lace between them.

He draws a finger over the curve of your cunt before cupping it.

“Why’d you block me, Sweetheart?” He asks, tracing the shape of your puffy lips through the cotton.

“You didn’t want me!” You hiss through clenched teeth. Ransom clucks his tongue at you, shaking his head, before delivering a stinging slap to your cunt. You feel it through the cotton, of course, whining and writhing underneath him as you cry out. “You’re fucking crazy—” The palm of his hand cracks sharply against you again, and it cuts your complaint short as the words disappear in a pained gasp.

“Be honest with me, Princess.” He says, grinning as you try to wriggle away from him.

“You wouldn’t even be seen with me!” Your voice cracks. “It’s not fair, Ransom!”

“You want me to stake a claim, Sweetheart? I can do that,” Ransom breathes, pushing the shirt up over your breasts, groaning at the sight of your puffy nipples. He draws his thumb across one, watching, enraptured, as the flesh pebbles underneath his touch. He trails sloppy, heated kisses up the side of your throat, nipping at the skin until you whimper. He mouths at your skin, sucking at the purpling bruise until he pulls away, satisfied.

“We can think of a more permanent solution later.” He leans back with a satisfied sigh. It feels good to mark you, to watch the bruises spread like ink on your pretty skin.

“Please, Ransom, just go!” You sob, the chain rattling against the bed-frame as you try unsuccessfully to loose yourself from your restraints. “We-we’ll just pretend it never happened!” You nod at him, like you’re trying to encourage him to do the same, your wide eyes fever bright. “It’ll be just like before—”

“Why would I want that?” He asks, reaching down to tug your panties tight, pulling the fabric tautly through the lips of your pussy like dental floss. “I don’t think you’re really grasping the situation, Princess, so let me spell it out for you.” Ransom spreads your legs wider as you stare up at him with fearful eyes.

“I don’t want things how they were before.” He snarls. “Things are different now, Sweetheart. You made them different.” Ransom slips his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties, and begins tugging them own your thighs, ignoring your whimpered pleas to wait and stop. You kick at him, a frenzied wail working its way out of your throat. True to his word, he ignores it, sliding down your body until he’s faced with the slick patch between your thighs.

“Ransom—” His name is a hoarse wail as he attaches his lips to your cunt, his tongue seeking out your traitorously swelling clit. He grins against you, dragging his tongue noisily through your folds, moaning. This is perfection, he muses dimly, lapping at you as you whine. You can’t deny how good it feels, not when he can see the evidence glistening on your quaking thighs, taste it on his tongue. You’re gasping, those precious little choking noises filling his ears as you try to swallow down the sound of your pleasure.

“Can’t fucking get over how good you taste, Princess,” he mumbles, reveling in your yelp as he sucks harshly on your swollen bud, spreading you wide with his fingers. You shake, your body jackknifing as you murmur nonsensically. He’s always loved that flavor—like fresh peaches, why do you taste like fucking peaches—

“F-Fuck you!” He doesn’t let you cum, though, pulling away to flick softly at your clit with his thumb. He draws the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the evidence of your body’s betrayal with a sly smile. A hoarse little whimper escapes you, and Ransom clucks his tongue, before reaching down to palm himself through his sweats. His cock his hard, so hard it almost hurts, thick drops of precum gathering at the reddened tip. He reaches for his phone with the other hand, the shutter noise clicking as he snaps a few pictures of your tear-stained face.

“N-no, no—!” You voice your displeasure with a whine as Ransom pans the camera down your body, like he’s trying to map it out for posterity’s sake. “No pictures, please, please!” Your wild, watery eyes are frantic as you plead with him. “Please don’t, Ran, please don’t send those—” A hot pulse shoots through his body at your desperation, and his cock throbs.

“A minute ago you were just telling me to go fuck myself.” He quirks an eyebrow at you over the top of the phone. “So which is it?”

“Please don’t send those.” You swallow thickly, the sound audible. “Please.”

He has no intention of sending them anywhere—except maybe to Isaac with your face cropped out, of course. But he smiles lasciviously anyway, blue eyes narrowing. Ransom runs his tongue across his lips, still tasting you on them.

“Let’s make a little deal, then.” He tugs his sweats down, and the fat, veiny length of his cock springs out. Ransom hisses softly as he spreads a sticky drop of precum across his tip with his thumb. “You’re going to end it with Isaac.” You open your mouth to complain, but Ransom forges ahead, ignoring you. “We’ll be exclusive, you and me, Princess.” He forces your thighs open a little wider. “Just like you want.” Ransom’s practically giddy with the thrill of it as your full lips begin to tremble and fresh tears track down your cheeks.

“I—I don’t want you!” You gasp, your attempts to buck him off only succeeding in wedging him further between your frantically kicking legs. Ransom clucks his tongue at you.

“I don’t know about that, Princess,” he says, slapping a hand against your swollen cunt, cupping it roughly. You squeal as he draws a finger through your slick, still throbbing folds.

“Not sure if you’ve ever been wetter.” Ransom presses your thighs to your chest. He asks, licking his lips. “It’s all up to you, of course.” Ransom lies so easily it doesn’t even really occur to him that he’s doing it.

“You tell me to go, I’ll go. But I can’t say what’ll happen to that footage.” He shrugs. He’s got no intention of leaving this room, not really, but he doesn’t mind pretending. “But if you were my girl, I might be able to swing deleting it. After all, what would I need it for? Got the real thing all to myself.” He dips the tip of a thick finger into your entrance. “Get it, Princess? No more scholarship. No more shitty dorm-room. I’ll take care of you.”

You’re so easy to read like this, your guard down and your desperation front and center. He can see you weighing the options, trying to parse out the best win for yourself in this devil’s bargain. He can see you testing the weight of your future against the events of this evening, and coming up far short. Ransom’s not stupid—and neither are you. You know what happens to girls like you when these things make their way into campus chatrooms and local reddit pages.

“You’ll really delete them?” You ask meekly, your mouth trembling. “You won’t… you won’t show these to anyone?” Ransom grins wider, drawing an X across his heart with the tip of his index finger.

“Cross my heart.” Ransom steadies one hand against your hip, his fingers sinking into the soft curve of it as he aligns himself with your entrance. His eyes roll as the head of his cock meets your cunt with a lewd, wet squelch. He’s getting impatient—after all, it’s been more than two weeks since the last time he’s been inside you, and his cock twitches hard against you at the thought.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry Princess, you’ll need to speak up.” Ransom leans down over you, his hard eyes locked on yours. “Again.”

“I said fine!” Your quiet voice is strained. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll break up with Isaac—” Ransom kisses you, swallowing the rest of your words eagerly. He gorges himself on your mouth, sucking your tongue fiercely before pulling away to worry at your lower lip with his teeth until it’s swollen and red.

“Oh Princess.” He breathes. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that.” He watches with dark glee when your eyes go wide as he begins to press into you, the head of his cock forcing you open. “No condom this time, but that’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Ransom!”

“M’right here,” he breathes, his hips jerking as your slick, puffy cunt sucks at his tip. “Fuck.” Ransom watches your eyes roll as you sink your teeth into your lower lip. “I know you missed it too, Sweetheart,” Ransom grits the words out through his teeth as he sinks in, his toes curling as your wet heat envelops him inch by precious inch. “You can admit it.”

The warm euphoria that spreads down his spine as he bottoms out draws another curse from his lips. You feel like fucking slick velvet inside, your walls clamping down on the girth of his cock like a wet fist. It’s hypnotic, pulling out only to thrust home again, his ears barely registering the groan of the bed-frame beneath you. The space between his temples is buzzing—your compliance, the feel of you around him, the knowledge that he’d won—Ransom’s delirious with it.

What’s even better is he can see it, plain on your face how much you’re enjoying it—how much you hate yourself for it. It makes every mumbled curse, every moan he wrenches from your unwilling throat all the sweeter. Ransom clucks his tongue at you as he leans down to capture your lips again. They’re pillow soft and swollen from his teeth.

“It’s my fault.” Ransom drives his cock into you, groaning. “I was stupid, Princess, I know. But I know what I need, now,” he says, hooking an arm beneath your thigh, lifting it so he can sink in even deeper. “Just you.” The shameful little wail that escapes your throat as you clamp down around him is almost enough to make him cum with you, cursing and crying as you do. He hangs on by the last fraying thread of his self control.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

“See?” He laughs, rolling his hips into yours with heavy strokes. “You need me, too.”

God, he loves seeing you like this, loves being the one to break you apart—loves knowing he’ll be the only one. It’s that thought that does it, aided by the miserable way you mewl his name as you cum again. His hands are tight on your hips, sinking into the heavy curve of them as he growls your name roughly in your ear. For a moment he’s lost in it; his forehead resting against yours as you milk him.

He stays inside you for a few luxurious minutes, basking in the feel of your cunt before pulling out. Ransom slaps his still hard cock against your oversensitive clit and you whine, your hips jerking. He can’t help but admire the mess he’s made, dragging his tip through your slick, sticky folds.

You watch him with red-rimmed eyes, your brows furrowing as he rises from the bed, pulling his sweats back up over his hips. He doesn’t reach for the keys, but instead slides his hand underneath your pillow to remove your phone.

“Ransom let me out, now.” Your voice is high, panicked. “You promised—”

“To delete the pictures.” He finishes, nodding. As you sputter, he removes his own phone from his pocket, and faces the screen towards you as he selects the pictures and videos from the photo album, and there’s a swooshing sound from the phone’s speakers as they disappear. “And I’ve deleted them.” Frantically, you rattle the handcuff chains against the bed-frame, trying desperately to dislodge them as Ransom sighs.

“You’re just going to hurt yourself.” You keep trying anyway, ignoring him your terrified sobs grow louder.

“Let me go! You fucking promised, Ransom, don’t leave me here—”

He cocks his head at you.

“Why would I leave you?” He asks, slipping both your phones into his pocket as he stands, stretching. “Winter break’s just starting,” Ransom says with a smile. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend it.”

the end

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#chris evans smut #chris evans fic #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale smut #ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom x y/n #dark!fic #dark AU #college AU

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ell-does-stuff · 30 days

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MAKING A BIG OL POST OF EVERYTHING I GOTTA SAY ABOUT THE NEW SPOOKY MONTH BECAUSE HOLY SHITTTT THERES A LOT

‼️‼️SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY‼️‼️

THE THIEVES ARE BACK WOOOOOOOO!! IVE MISSED THEM SM

also eepy lila

while gathering images for this ive noticed that the "pile of dexter" as im calling it is staring at the thieves the whole time they're in the attic (specifically fat thief)

is he somehow still alive???? just possessing a pile of dead doll????????

so cool to see the big ass spider get some actual relevance!! def gonna be important next episode for sure

ROSS'S DAD!!!!!!!!

also jaune is so pretty with her hair down like omggg... love to see her being such a supportive friend to lila as well

"are you throwing away dad's stuff mom?" WAAAAAA MY POOR BABYYY IM GONNA CRYYY

HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN HI KEVIN

theyre so me

DEXTERRRRJRJRJRHSHSHDBBDBSB!!+!!!!!(!!

"this cat looks sick im taking it to the vet" BULLSHIT i know what you are. 👁️👁️

DEXTER'S MOM!?!?????!?!?!?!?!!!??? i had no idea she would ever show up like wow i did not expect to see her at all

poor little babies and their lack of parents

ok sorry ik im joking here but MAN this scene made me feel bad 😭😭😭

THE FUCK.

pretty sure this dude is the same guy as the "costume bob" in the last episode??? i felt bad for him last time but here he seems like kind of a pathetic and weird ass man ngl lol

RADFORRRRRRDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!!(!!(;+;!;(;;(;??;(;;!!(+!!++!(++!

HES SUCH A GOD DAMN SILLY NERD MAN LIKEEEEE "he even sounds like he does in the movies!!!!!!" BROOOO I LOVE HIMMMMMMMMMM DJJDGWHDHSHFH

he is EXACTLY how i pictured he would be!! my brain is not gonna shut up about him for the next few days i just know it HAHAHAH

also my caramelpopcorn (thats their ship name right?? or was it candycorn??? i forgor lol) heart is completely full, i loved actually seeing him and kevin canonically interact, they are perfect <3

HES IN THE CANDY CLUB OUTFIRTBD RJSHNF EBDJFBSBDJC EJDUFBEBW DKXN SCUEBFNFBRJSJCJCHDB!!!!(!!!!!;+;(;!!(+!!

"im... uh... like an uncle!!" "i just wanna help the children..." BROO??? feeling kinda bad for frank rn, these are like the only kids he genuinely cares about and hes being turned away from em

ik hes a shady guy but STILL

GREGOR LOOKS SO GOOFY DOING THE DANCE JDBDHSHFHD LIKE WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THATTTTT

also i made this gif myself yall better like it

aaaaaaaaaand dexter's mom is dead.

like son like mother i guess 💀

love how ignacio's door has small little boards on it from when they bashed it with a hammer HAHAHHA

also, looking at the inside of ignacio's house, is that john's family on the little table there???

one of the images in the arg gives a better look at this, but i had no idea it was in IGNACIO'S HOUSE of all places. why does he have that??? and right by the gun too.... what is this silly cult man planning......

(the arg image in question if yall were wondering)

"we understand you" "we're here for you dude" "thank you guys, i just wish things weren't so..." HATZGANG FRIENDSHIP WAAAAA!!!!!

also ROY HAS BEEN THROUGH SHIT MY POOR GUYYYY i wanna hug him mannnn 🥺

IMAGE LIMIT IS KILLING ME SO IM GONNA REBLOG THIS WITH MORE SHIT TO SAY BECAUSE I AM NOT DONE MANNN‼️‼️‼️‼️

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slayfics · 10 months

Text

Muichiro reminds you you’re his Tsuguko.

A crow flew overhead alerting you and Muichiro of some Kanoto ranks in danger from a demon nearby. You both took off immediately to help them and take care of the demon.

Upon arrival, Muichiro let you handle the demon while he moved the lower ranks out of danger.

The demon wasn't challenging so it was the perfect time to try out some new techniques you just learned and had been practicing with Muichiro.

Muichiro observed taking mental notes of how you were doing when he overheard the lower ranks talking behind him.

"Wow, they are incredible," one said, watching you battle the demon.

"Not to mention beautiful too, think I could ask them on a date?" The other asked.

"Yeah right like they would ever give you the time of day," the first one replied laughing.

Muichiro scrunched his nose up in disgust but didn't turn around to face the Kanoto's. Of course, you wouldn’t be interested in any of those swordsmen he thought.

Or would you? The thought of you accompanying one of them on a date suddenly made him feel ill. He blinked hard, forcing the image out of his mind, and focused back on how you were doing. The lower ranks were right, you were doing amazing and it was stunning to watch.

You finished off the demon and made your way over to Muichiro and the other swordsmen.

"Are you all ok?" You asked them.

"They are fine with only minor injuries," Muichiro answered before any of them could speak to you.

"Oh, that's great! Do any of you need help getting to your next destination?” You asked, but again Muichiro spoke for them standing in between you and them.

"Their next destination is a Wisteria House not too far from here. Surely they can make that journey on their own. If they can't, they should quit the demon slayer corps now." He said sharply, turning his head to side-eye them. "Ask for us, we have much more work to do today and should be off." He said, and motioned for you to follow him in the opposite direction of the Kanoto ranks.

"Ok bye then, safe travels!" You said waving at the Kanoto ranks and following Muichiro.

"Geez, the Hashira are all real pieces of work aren't they?" You heard one Kanoto say as you departed. If Muichiro heard, he didn't care to dignify the lower rank with a response.

"How did I do Tokito?" You decided to ask, pushing the Kanoto's statement out of your mind.

"You did great, excellent work using your breathing techniques. We just have to work on getting you faster." He replied.

"Oh wow really! Thank you!" You said beaming at his praise. Sure he had some notes of improvement, but Muichiro always did. The fact that he had anything nice to say at all meant you must have done exceptionally well.

"I'm not the only one that thought so either," he said.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Those lower ranks seemed to be captivated by you. One wanted to ask you on a date."

"Oh!" You exclaimed, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks.

"You should know though, you're my Tsuguko and you don't have time for trivial matters such as that," Muichiro stated.

This caused you to process the scene just now. Specifically, the way Muichiro refused to let you speak to the Kanoto's, and how he ensured to stay physically between you and them. A small smirk found its way to your lips. Was Muichiro really just trying to keep you focused on training? Or was something else going on here, you wondered.

"That's fine. I wouldn't be interested in any of their company anyway." You said teasingly.

"No?" Muichiro asked and turned to face you.

"Nope. I'm only interested in one swordsman's company."

Muichiro's eyes widened in curiosity, "what swordsman is that?" He asked.

"You of course." You said, and Muichiro swiftly turned back around, but you could have sworn you saw his face flush before he did.

Tagging those that asked~

@aeolia18 @plvuii @muichirouswife

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kentosbabes · 10 months

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Jjk boys as camboys

Nanami; Office

He’s been stressed for a while, his boss getting onto him for an upcoming deadline and working overtime. The only way he’s been able to relax recently is to fuck his fist on camera. As weird as it sounds, the feeling of being exposed to thousands of people watching him show himself off live turns him on.

His shirt rolled up and his tie dangling from his plush lips, a grunt caught in his throat. His checks, a pretty rouge and his eyes rolled back. “F-fuck, I needed this,” a guttural moan escaped. His head fell back as he let out a shaky breath as he arched forward so his hard cock was even closer to the camera. He made sure to look at the camera while his breathing became faster, his movements became erratic and his toes curled as the pleasure was building inside him, ready to overflow at any minute.

Gojo; Toys

Gojo was a cam boy for fun, he had the money but there was something about plaything with himself on camera that excited him. Never showing his face, he loved to listen to the requests of his audience. Not shying away at all at the more erotic ones. He ran a hand up his stomach and chest, all the way up his neck and then back down to play with his nipple.

“Play with your vibrator?” He smirked, an assured and arrogant grin took its place, “of course I can can do that for you.” He loves to dirty talk while fulfilling his promises. “I’d let you hold this against my balls, if you were here, right until I’m crying for you to stop.” He writhed against the mattress, moving it down the length of his cock.

Gojo’s head lolled to the side and he let out a high-pitched, needy whine as he spurted strings of white all over himself, glistening in the light. His hand doesn’t stop fisting his cock until he finally is able to look up through his eyebrows to the camera and ask, “Please, please can- can I? Ah.”

Geto; Charmingly clumsy

Geto was the boy next door, he was just a regular guy who you saw at the movies or at school. He even had a regular job as a waiter. But he moonlighted as a cam worker, he loves the feeling of being watched. Sure it pays well and as a collage student thats needed but he genuinely loves his work.

“Do you want to see my cock?” Geto hooked his thumbs on his Calvin Kline boxer briefs which hid his cock from the viewers. Geto nodded as he pushed the fabric so his cock popped out and his balls fell free. He let out a small moan when he wrapped a hand around his shaft and started pumping it, his other hand going to support him as he leaned back. His thighs flex and his legs jerk upwards like he’s trying to stave off his orgasm.

“Can I, pl-please I just, fuck. I wanna just, ah. Can I cum guys?” The dinging sounds of notifications from his viewers overwhelmingly saying yes. Whining a thank you, rocking back and forth. He could feel his climax coming, the familiar toiling in his lower tummy threatening to snap.

Toji; Dirty talking joi

Toji is well known on the app for his voice, more specifically his words. He has an ability to find the dirtiest words and phrases to make the already erotic scene playing out even more erotic.

“Fuck, I had a long day and now I just wanna fuck my fist hard. Any requests?” His abrupt voice and manner make him that much more sexy to his viewers. “A Joi? Sure.” He hooked a finger around his boxers, “I’m going to start with taking my underwear off, now you can start. Being such good little girls and boys.” Curling his hand around his shaft and loosely playing with it by circling with his finger, “Now I want you to start following me and my instructions ok? I’ll reward you with the ability to cum if you do this right.”

Nodding to himself, “if you’re a woman watching this I want you to rub up and down and in a figure of eight motion. If you’re a man watching this,” he drawled, voice deep and gentle, “then just follow me.” He made sure to look at the camera while his breathing became faster, his movements became erratic and his toes curled as the pleasure was building inside him, ready to overflow at any minute. “Fuck, m’gonna cum, cum with me darlin’, ah.”

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