are they voice ears

Yesterday I saw an anti ironpanther post on my dash and surprise, surprise, spite is a very good motivator for me to start writing again. So have some courting, and arc reactor issues and getting together, since that is what @ir0nshield asked for. Watch out for the cut since this is almost 3k words long.


Dealing with T’Challa after the whole mess with the Accords was easier than Tony would have thought.

Sure, T’Challa, and T’Chaka before him, had been for the Accords in the first place, but T’Challa was also housing the rogue Avengers and Tony wasn’t sure what to expect from him.

But T’Challa was nothing if not polite, and Tony tried to be the same in return. After all, T’Challa was a big force behind the Accords and Tony could need him in his corner if Ross suddenly decided that Tony belonged into the raft as well.

Tony was rubbing at the skin around the arc reactor, the cold always made it hurt, when T’Challa entered the conference room.

“Mr. Stark,” he greeted Tony and Tony almost flinched.

“Let’s stick to Tony, Mr. Stark was my father, King T’Challa,” he said and T’Challa thoughtfully tilted his head.

“Only if you can forget the king,” he gave back and Tony huffed.

“Nothing easier as that, Mufasa.” Tony wasn’t sure if the Lion King was a thing over in Wakanda, but going by the tilt to T’Challa’s mouth it definitely was.

“I think I am more Simba than Mufasa, wouldn’t you agree,” T’Challa said and proved Tony right.

“If you say so, Simba,” Tony replied with a smile and then stilled when T’Challa’s gaze fell onto his chest.

“Is it still hurting from the injury?” he asked and Tony forced himself to lower his hand.

He never liked it when the attention was on the arc reactor.

“Maybe. It just hurts sometimes,” he gave back, not willing to tell T’Challa that it was the injury and the cold and the reactor in general. He didn’t need to know that.

T’Challa obviously noticed Tony’s hesitation in talking about the reactor and thankfully dropped the matter.

They were talking about Rhodey and his recovery when the other members of the Accords came in and from then on it was only business with them.

~*~*~

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Cause and Effect [Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne]

Because I have been thinking about Tim coming ‘back to life’ for six months and after this post I had to finally write out what I have been thinking. I worked on this for a pretty long time and am very happy so. Please enjoy.


Tim’s lungs burn. He’s not sure if it’s from the fight or the feel of breathing in real air for the first time in…he doesn’t know. There was never a way to keep count of time beyond the growth of his hair. It is longer now, enough to be in his eyes, enough so when the wind picks up on the skyscrapers of Gotham it whips along with it.

He is trying hard to breathe. He is panting. His body aches, limbs heavy from gravity alone with bruises swelling under his too-hot uniform, with cuts slashed out making his skin sing with pain. Much of the fabric is stained dark with blood, his gloves are slick with it. His entire body is shaking.

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You Died

Author: Juju

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: Sebastian comes home only to find you crying. He freaks out, thinking something happened, but he calms down once he figures out what’s going on.

Warnings: A smidge of angst but it’s hardly there. A shit ton of fluff.

A/N: This happened like 2 minutes ago. There are still tears in my eyes. I don’t know why I decided to re-watch The First Avenger.

P.S. I just realized that I’m on my period and that’s why I’m so emotional. I’m sorry.

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

“Y/N! I’m home!” Sebastian called out as he walked into your shared apartment. He turned to the living room, where you usually were when he came home, only to find it empty. He went to the kitchen, but you weren’t there either. On his way to the bedroom, he heard you sniffling and picked up his pace in fear.

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Imagine your society worships the moon

Call me Thunderfaun, I guess, or Faun for short. I can’t promise many stories, but this prompt from requests #60 resonated with me, so I figured I’d give back to this blog.

Content: fpreg, dubious consent on account of grooming from an early age, slight pain from deflowering.

At moonrise tonight, you were going to be of age.

For as long as you could remember, you’d lived towards this night. Out of all of your people’s customs, this was the single most important one.

Every thirty years, a young virgin girl, raised from childhood to ensure that she was untouched, would be offered to the great Lunar God on the night she turned of age and once a year until their thirtieth birth-night after that, to give birth to a son in nine months’ time.

Inevitably, those sons would grow into honourable warriors, prestigious scholars, or great leaders, bringing honour and wealth to your clan. And when a new girl would take over this most noble task, the previous one would move on to become one of the Domina Oriens, the religious leaders of your people, set to guide generations to come.

Taken shortly after your birth, you had been raised knowing that this was your sole purpose. You had been taught to read and write, instructed in the rites of your people, given extensive practice in healing and diplomatic relations, but most importantly in child-rearing. Your virginity, reserved for the Lunar Lord, was safeguarded fiercely – handmaidens guided you everywhere, and a silvered chastity belt kept you safe. Tonight, that effort would come to fruition.

At dusk, you were roused from sleep and brought to the Altar of the Moon by your handmaidens. Undressing you, they bathed you in the clear pond beside it, fingers running over your skin, through your hair, along your wide, childbearing hips, working you up till you were arching into their touches.

Just when you were about to beg for more, the oldest of your handmaidens stepped forward.

“My lady,” she murmured, caressing your cheek, “tonight, as you have matured, we trust the Lunar Lord to guide you into your destiny. We will unlock the way for you, but the last of the journey is yours.”

Procuring a key from her necklace, she knelt before you, unlocking your chastity belt with deft movements.

You shivered as she took the device away – in eighteen years, you had only had the belt undone for an hour at a time, and never for this purpose.

Your handmaiden got to her feet again, pressing her lips to your forehead. “Moon and stars guide you,” she murmured.

As one, your handmaidens gathered around her and walked back towards the temple, not glancing back – the greatest taboo of all.

Taking a moment to gather your nerve, you turned away, walking up the steps to the altar.

The altar itself was silvered, inlaid with golden decorations. The full moon’s light was reflected in it, and you laid down on top of it as you had been told, waiting with closed eyes and bated breath.

After what felt like forever, you somehow knew you were no longer alone, a suspicion confirmed when you heard a deep male voice chuckle.

“My, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Despite having been told not to, you sat up slightly, startled.

Standing by your feet was a tall, male figure. Silver, shoulder-length hair framed his delicate face, and his tall, broad-shouldered frame only looked broader because of the polar bear fur that lined his clothing.

He grinned widely at your surprise, sitting down by your feet. “Like what you see so far?”

“Oh – my Lord,” you murmured, giving an improvised half-bow.

“Please,” he said, lifting your head with a hand, “don’t be ashamed.”

You jumped when you felt a hand trailing down your stomach, pausing just above your mound.

“Untouched?”

You nodded mutely.

“Good,” he murmured, voice low.

Leaning forward, he kissed you, softly but firmly, resting his hands on your hips. Uncertain but eager to please, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer when he nudged you onto your back.

The Lunar Lord reached between your legs, a fingertip trailing between your slit, seemingly searching for something. When you gasped suddenly, arching into him, you could feel his lips quirk up into a smile against yours, and his thumb lingered on that spot, drawing pitiful mewls from you.

Pulling away from your mouth slightly, he kissed along your cheek towards your ear, whispering into it, “Did they prepare you appropriately?”

Breathlessly, you nodded, shivering when his index finger moved to your entrance, sliding inside easily.

His free hand moved to your breasts, squeezing one of them softly.

“A truly fine vessel for my heirs. Of all the girls I’ve seen, I might just like you the most…”

“Ah – my Lord?…” you managed, blushing furiously.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “I’ll make sure you enjoy this.”

His hand moved away from your core, causing you to whimper, but your eyes went wide when you saw him unfasten his cloak and start to undo his clothes. When he pulled down his pants, his member sprung forth, its thickness intimidating to you without any frame of reference. You swallowed.

The Lunar Lord’s eyes fixed on your face, and slowly but deliberately, he took your wrist, bringing your hand to his member.

“Touch it,” he ordered.

You stared at him for a moment before complying, wrapping your hand around him, flinching a bit when his member twitched into your hand but persevering. His hands were cool, but this part of him was warm, and when you moved your hand slightly, he gave a shaky sigh, nodding.

“Just like that…”

Watching his face as you jerked him off, you were struck by his handsomeness. Fine-featured and elegant, but strong enough to carry the moon across the sky. Strong enough to protect your clan.

Strong enough to give you healthy sons.

You shivered.

After a few minutes, he grabbed your hand and pinned it down on the altar, working you onto your back. In one slow movement, he pressed into you to the hilt, taking your virgin pussy. You gasped in slight pain, squirming at the intrusion, but he held you down until you grew accustomed to him, nibbling at your neck.

His thrusts were slow initially, pulling out almost entirely before entering you to the hilt again, but he sped up as you grew more used to it, pleasure overtaking the soreness of your first time.

The more you felt him inside you, the more some sort of pressure built. When his hand reached between your legs again, you cried out and wrapped your legs around him to pull him in deeper, an offer he gladly took. When you were just moments away from reaching whatever culmination this would lead to, the Lunar Lord spoke up again.

“What will your offspring be like?” he murmured, voice smooth as silk, seemingly bypassing your ears entirely to nestle within your mind. “I can influence a lot of that, depending on what is needed at the moment and what my lovers wish. Conquerors, advisers, explorers, I’ve sired them all. Speak, and what you wish shall be yours, for generations to come.”

“G– god –” you managed, clinging to him tighter.

He chuckled softly, your reaction seeming to amuse him. “Speak, now. What is it that you wish for?”

“My Lord…” you gasped out. “Please, just – just give me your children, my Lord, that is all I have ever wished for. Just don’t stop…”

…the thrusting stopped.

Looking up in confusion, you saw him stare at you, a thoughtful frown on his face as he watched your face.

After an eternity, he shook his head slightly with a smile. “I can grant you that wish,” he said, picking up his pace and rubbing at your sweet spot harder. “Come for me now…”

Crying out, you felt yourself topple over the edge, coming on his cock, harder than you’d ever imagined it would feel like. You were aware of a molten, liquid feeling spreading inside you as the Lunar Lord’s member jerked, and you knew your purpose was fulfilled.

Lying back down on the altar, you tried to catch your breath, leaning into the hand brushing your hair out of your face.

Gently, the Lunar Lord pulled out of you, causing you to shiver at the sensation of his come dripping out of you, and started dressing himself again.

When he stood, dressed in his regalia again, he paused, walking up to you and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand resting above your womb.

“Your sons will be kings one day.”

With those words, he faded away. For a moment, you thought you saw his outline in the moonlight, but when you blinked, it was gone.

Exhausted, sleep took you, and memories of your Lord and master roamed your dreams.

Bellamy Blake, the same Bellamy Blake that so fiercely declared that he and Clarke were a team, that neither he nor Clarke had to do it alone, that they were in it together, now believes he has to shoulder the weight of the next six years alone.

And you can bet your ass that the sound that rings in his ears and haunts his nightmares is Clarke’s voice saying, “I bear it so they don’t have to.”

Writing Prompt #150

They’re lying to you. Plotting against you. The voices whispered softly in my ear. I knew it wasn’t true, and did my best to dismiss them, even as they continued to issue warnings and threats to problems that were nonexistent.

Found

Steve Rogers X Reader Soulmate AU

A/N: I know I said I was going to bed, but ERMERGERD!! I finally hit 200 followers!! I have been obsessing over Soulmate AUs, lately, so I figured what a great time to try and bang one out! A special occasion fluff piece! Thank you so much for those who have followed me! 200 may not be a lot to some of you, but it is a huge milestone for me!

Summary: Soulmates are born with their partner’s name tattooed over their heart. What happens when the reader is born with a famous missing Captain America’s name?

Warnings: A poor deer gets hit by a car, minor accident, very little injury and blood.

Word Count: About 1700 words (more or less)

Masterlist

Originally posted by skylerlockerbie

Steven Grant Rogers.

When I was born, my parents and doctors were astonished. Captain America had been presumed dead since the forties, making it an impossible scenario at the time. History books never mentioned that he had a name tattooed over his heart. He hadn’t made that information public. I guess soulmates were considered controversial at that period of time, since there was not a lot of information about it.

“You mustn’t let anybody know who your soulmate is, Y/N.” My father always warned, failing to hide the fear laced in his voice. “You don’t want the wrong people to know this piece of information. It could do a lot of damage and get you hurt.”

So, I covered up the delicate writing. Foundation and high-cut shirts became my life-line. I never told anybody that I had a soulmate, and people didn’t question me. Not everybody’s born with a soulmate, anyways.

The world is cruel. I would rather have had no soulmate, instead of a dead one.

I had gotten pretty good at hiding my tattoo, and refused to let the sting of knowing I would never meet my other half get me down. I had graduated high school with honors, graduated from a great college, and got a job as a nurse in a local hospital in New York. I loved my job. I worked really hard to have a good life, and enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that I was helping people.

Then he was found. He was alive.

I was sitting in the break room, talking to one of my colleagues about an upcoming vacation I’d planned, when someone had shouted to turn on the TV.

Captain America Alive – Frozen in time!

The headlines all said it.

My heart almost stopped beating. He was alive. After all this time. He was alive.

I ran to the restroom to call my mother. “Did you see the television?” I all but shouted, hands shaking.

“I did.” She responded, a smile in her voice. “He’s alive, after all this time.”

“What do I do? I don’t want to freak him out! I’m sure waking up in a different era after being frozen is hard enough, without adding me into the mix.” I sat down on the counter, next to the sink. I needed to think this through, before making any rash decisions. I was overjoyed. I was nervous. I was hurt. I had spent my whole life believing that I was never going to meet my other half. Thinking that the universe was playing a cruel joke on me by giving me the name of a dead man.

I had been wrong after all this time.

“It’s up to you, sweetheart. You need to be the one to make the decision.” I could faintly hear the television in the background of the phone. “If you really want to meet him, you don’t need to do it today. Do it in your own time.”

So that’s what I did. I waited. Three years.

I had followed what he was doing through the news and social media, over time. He had joined a group that called themselves The Avengers, and was trying to do some good in the world.

I was trying to get my life in order, before I met him. I was paying off my student loans, I was working a lot, and I had moved closer to Stark Tower – now called The Avengers Tower – to be close when I was ready to talk to him.

After a particularly grueling day at the hospital – a twelve hour shift – I was supposed to be making my way to see my parents for an upcoming birthday. I was tired. It was really late at night, and I was skipping the set-up with my mother, since the party was the next day. It was a gross night, the rain was coming down in sheets, and it was way too cold. I had been wearing my scrubs, but the shirt was too dirty, so I was driving with my scrub pants and a tank top, making sure the heat in my car cranked up.

Luckily, traffic was pretty light, but the rain was not letting up.

“What the hell! Pass me, asshole.” I muttered, looking in my rearview mirror at a giant SUV behind me. “What, are you trying to pick your goddamn teeth in my mirror?”

My eyes had only flicked to the SUV for a second, but when I looked forward all I saw were a pair of shining eyes.

DEER! SHIT!

I gasped, slamming the brakes as the deer was tumbling onto my hood and smashing into my windshield. My body was forced forward, and my face made contact with the steering wheel. My foot felt like it was forcing my body weight onto the brake, and I threw my car in park, praying I was on the side of the road. “God dammit.” I yelled, bringing my hand up to my throbbing nose, and it came away sticky with blood. I felt it, and – luckily – it hadn’t been broken.

Shit. My windshield was fucked.

The deer!

I clicked off my seatbelt, throwing open my door. Before I climbed out, I grabbed my dirty scrub shirt, pressing it against my face to soak up the bleeding.

“Woah, are you sure you want to be getting out of the car, right now?” A woman’s voice said from a few feet behind my car. “Are you okay?”

My windshield was splattered with blood and hair, and the car was totaled. “Fuck! So much for paying off my car!” This fucking sucks.

I turned to the woman, and froze in my tracks. I would recognize that red hair anywhere. Natasha Romanoff? The Black fucking Widow? “Uhh, I’m fine. I just hit my nose. It’s bleeding, but it isn’t-”

HOLY SHIT.

The passenger door to the SUV opened, revealing none other than him. Captain America.

He was a lot bigger in person. He was tall, broad, and handsome. His hair was so golden blonde, but dirty at the same time. And his blue eyes stood out from his clear, attractive face. They were the most beautiful shade of blue I had ever seen.

Oh, God, I’m freaking out…

Oh, shit. You were talking, Y/N.

“-It isn’t broken. I’m more pissed about my car.” I shivered, rain making the cold seep into my exposed flesh, and shock of the accident waring off. “I just need to call a tow.”

“I already called one, Ma’am.” His perfect voice flooded my ears, and I had to stop myself from embarrassing myself by swooning. “Are you sure you’re okay? That’s a lot of blood.”

I nodded, using the soiled scrub shirt to wipe the blood from my face and chest. I tossed it into the car and grabbed my umbrella to block off the rain, “D-did they say how long they would be?”

“Twenty Minutes.” He responded, unzipping his hoodie and tossing it to me, “Take this. You don’t want to catch a cold.” Such a gentleman.

I was so focused on not embarrassing myself in front of Steve, that I didn’t notice Natasha eyeing up my badge and my half-wiped makeup over my tattoo. “Hey, Steve.” She looked over, beckoning him closer. “Check out the name on her badge.”

My heart stopped beating. Oh, shit. My eyes were almost bugging out of my head, and I could tell that she knew exactly whose name was tattooed over my heart.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” He read aloud, voice questioning. His head sprung up, looking serious and taken aback, “Your middle name wouldn’t be Y/M/N, would it?”

I smiled sheepishly, taking my sleeve and wiping the rest of the dripping foundation off my chest, “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled, a look of relief on his face. “You’re my soulmate.”

I felt my face blush, and I bit my lip – heat radiating off my cheeks as he walked up to me, “And you’re mine.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, before?” He questioned as Natasha walked back over to the SUV.

I wrung my hands together, nervousness taking over my body, “Well, uh, I don’t know. I mean, it’s pretty surreal seeing you in person and not on the news.” I wrapped his hoodie tighter around my body, “Plus, I mean, I thought you were dead my whole life, so I never exactly planned out what I would say the first time I ever met you.”

His face fell, “I’m sorry. I had my whole life before the ice thinking about meeting you, and you spent yours thinking that I was never going to be with you.” He gently grabbed my hand, leaving my other one free so I could hold the umbrella. “I’ve had a whole speech planned since I knew what this tattoo meant, and I’ve forgotten every line.” He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “I’m happy to finally meet you, Doll. You’re beautiful.”

I cleared my throat, “You’re not so bad yourself, Captain.” Oh my god, he isn’t disappointed. Thank god.

“You can call me by my name, you know.” He winked, leaning against my dripping car. “So, do you want to go get some coffee, or something?”

“Oh, shoot!” I pulled my hand out of his, and leaned back into my car to grab my phone, “I was on my way to my parents’ house for a birthday that’s supposed to be tomorrow.” I quick texted my mother, letting her know that I was going to be late without going into details. “I would love, some coffee, though.”

He chuckled, running his hand through his wet hair, “Why don’t we leave Natasha with your car, and I’ll take you to your parents’ house? We can stop for coffee on the way?”

“Sure, that sounds lovely.” I was so relieved that he wasn’t disappointed. I had always dreamed of meeting my other half. This was not a dream, this was reality – and I was so ecstatic, I could cry.

Natasha came over, tossing Steve the keys to the SUV and my suitcase from the back seat. “You kids have fun, I’ll have this towed back to the tower. Make Stark pay for it.”

Steve ushered me over to the vehicle, opening my door and taking my umbrella from me. He jogged over to the driver’s side door and closed my umbrella, hopping in and starting up the SUV.

As he pulled back onto the highway, his right hand took hold of my left, “I am really glad I found you, Doll.”

Another blush crept its way over my skin, and I gave his hand a little squeeze, “I’m really glad I found, you, too.”

As we rode, I felt a sense of happiness spread through me. My soulmate had finally found me, and I’d finally found him.

My heart felt complete.

I could finally show my tattoo to the world.

Steven Grant Rogers.

My soulmate.

TAGS: (I do forever tags, whoever wants to join the party!)

@luckynumber1213 @mrsnegan25

anonymous asked:

Imagine no one knows Host plays violin. One day he's late for a meeting, so someone goes to go get him, and they can hear the violin music already, but think it's just music he turned on to enjoy, but open the door and find the Host immersed in playing and not even noticing anything around him and the person finding him is just s h o o k -Sky

OOH But imagine it’s Bim a little before they start their friendship so he’s not very happy when they choose him to go find the Host to drag him to the meeting. He still finds him very intimidating and just a touch scary so the thought of having to approach him on his own toys at his anxiety. But he takes a deep breath, takes a swig of water, and goes off in search of the Host’s room. 

Wilford tells him to listen for music and Bim assumes it’s because he probably likes to listen to something other than the sound of his own voice every once in a while. He wanders the halls, ears strained for melodies or quiet rambling when he catches it. It’s a sweet melody, elegant and soft and Bim smiles a little at it. Then he remembers he actually has to talk to the creepy man with the bloody eyes listening to it and the smile’s wiped off his face. 

His steps are slow as he follows the music to its source and he hesitates when he finds the door to what is usually an empty room. Bim takes one last fortifying breath, steels himself, and opens the door, mouth ready to call for the Host. 

All his words die in his throat when he sees the Host standing in the middle of the room facing the wall, a violin nestled between his chin and shoulder, his bow drawing out the pleasant music. He’s grinning even as he mumbles softly under his breath, narrating what is probably a familiar tune. And when the Host finally realizes he’s not alone anymore, he stops, abruptly, and Bim can’t stop the disappointment that wells in his chest when the music cuts off. 

The Host’s never had anyone listen to him play and he can’t fight off the flush that blooms on his cheeks. Bim complements him, though, and they both share an awkward smile, trying to salvage the situation. And it’s the start of a beautiful friendship. 

Eye Witness

AU: WitnessProtection!Yoongi, Cop!Jungkook w/gang!VMin

Warnings: Gang related stuff- gun violence, threats, all around danger, etc. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: It should have been a normal walk home from work, but when you see something you shouldn’t have and get caught, passerby Min Yoongi is not happy that you drag him into it. 

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anonymous asked:

Tuafw you need to do "passive work" in class and read and answer questions but everyone in the class is talking and you can hear all the voices and cant read and you cant think without covering your ears but you cant write and cover your ears at the same time and it leads you into a meltdown and everything is too loud and too bright and your grade suffers because no matter how many times you try people won't shut up and you just seem stuck up or whinny because yep Im totally nt (-🌟✨)

anonymous asked:

"Could you not talk to them, please? I think they're trying to date you." with Daveed or Rafa maybe?

“Could you not talk to him please? I think he’s trying to date you.”

Rafa’s voice is cold in your ear as he pulls you away from where you had been talking with Oak just seconds before.

“Excuse me?” You ask, pulling your wrist out of his grip. “Oak has been my friend since pre-school, and he has a girlfriend! He’s not interested in me,” you growl, stepping away from him.

Ever since you met him, Rafa has never been like this and seeing him treat you like this makes your blood practically boil in anger.

“Oh come on Y/N! It’s obvious he’s into you!” He exclaims.

You go to yell back at him, but before you can you realise why he’s acting like this.

“Oh my god…” you whisper, your eyes lighting up in shock. “You’re jealous!”

“Jealous? Me? I’m not jealous Y/N,” he says, being way too obvious in his attempt to cover up what he really meant.

“Yes you are! Oh my god Rafa you like me!”

“Like you? What are we twelve?” He asks, his features slowly turning from anger to embarrassment.

“Oh you like me, you wanna date me, you wanna kiss me, you wa-” before you can continue your teasing, he leans in to capture your lips with his.

After a few seconds of shock, you melt into him, kissing back quickly. Your hands move up his chest, fingers tangling with the fabric of his shirt as his own hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you in to deepen the kiss.

This is certainly not what you thought this night would turn into.

anonymous asked:

Imagine harry fingering you. He's got such big hands, his fingers are so long and thick he'd be able to get so deep. And if he kept the rings on you could feel them pressing against your entrance as he moved inside of you. He'd bury his fingers so deep inside and curl them up letting his palm rub against your clit. The muscles in his arm would be bulging and his voice would be deep and gravelly when he whispered in your ear 'come on, cum for me. Let me feel that tight cunt squeeze my fingers'

Holy FUCK I didn’t need this….

Blind!Ignis x Reader: Obsidian Static

A/N: This is a one-shot post “Next to You.” I have to admit, I’ve been listening to some ASMR erotica audios and well… This happened. Writing a mildly Dom!Ignis was interesting.

Enjoy!

Tagging @chocobrowrangler, @chocobrodreamteam, @iinkpools and @nifwrites on this. Because smut. That’s why.

Ignis’ ears caught a rush of air from movement, followed with a light patter of footsteps. His body felt heavy and glistened with sweat; his throat dry with anticipation. Feeling his muscles tense up from tightly gripping his daggers, he quickly turned to engage his opponent only to be knocked down on the floor from impact for the umpteenth time.

A stern, authoritative voice then spoke.

“You focus too much with your ears. Feel for the attack instead of foreseeing it.”

He let out a frustrated puff of air out of his mouth and rested his left forearm to his knee. His knitted eyebrows further expressed his annoyance as his head tilted downwards.

“We’ll end here for today.”
Ignis jolted his head up strongly refuted, “No! (Y/N)… please,” he softly pleaded. “One more time.”
“Ig. We’ve been at this for two hours,” she firmly replied and shifted weight to one of her legs. “You’re tired. I’m tired.”
“I just need to—”
Ignis Scientia.

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bookwyrm00  asked:

Standing on the edge of The Cliff, I stared down into the Beast's eyes, the eyes that have claimed thousands of souls before me, the eyes that have visited me in my dreams on the darkest nights.Deep eyes that have whispered to me, telling me of the honor to gain from my voyage. I hear It whispering even now, giving me one final task before I can join It in power. It hisses it in my ears, Its voice dripping like tar into my brain. I gasped at what it said, there was no way It was being serious.

“suck my dick you fucking furry”

anonymous asked:

yearning + biospecialist for the prompt please and thank you

“What is this?” There’s a lack of emotion in the question, almost no inflection at all, that’s the first sign of trouble.

“What is what?” Jemma asks, already knowing precisely what Grant’s discovered on her dresser. She knew she should have hidden it behind her unmentionables.

He flashes the application at her, stalling her mid-stretch. 

“Right,” she says, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as guilty to his ears as it does to hers. “That. I should think it’s rather obvious.”

He sets the application for transfer down innocently enough, but there’s a weight to the motion that feels like he’s just dropped a live grenade in the middle of her quarters. He sits on the edge of her bed, somewhat sideways so that his feet are still firmly on the ground but he’s facing her.

“Field work? Seriously?”

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anonymous asked:

1. Cecelia, 2. Duelist Kingdom, 3. Pegasus wins

When Pegasus received the vision of Cecelia during his trip to Egypt, she didn’t disappear from his arms. From the moment he received ownership of the Eye, she stayed by his side, visible, but not tangible.

Together, they make the plans for Duelist Kingdom, or rather, Cecelia makes the plans and Pegasus carries them out. She’s the one who tells him not to bother with KaibaCorp–she knows a better way–and who lets him know there are a few more guests who need to be added to the list.

Cecelia’s voice in his ear gets him through all the necessary duels, first the Ishtars and then Yugi. And finally, when he goes to find the Ring, Bakura is waiting for him, ready to hand it over gladly.

Pegasus’s excitement is shortlived when he turns to Cecelia and doesn’t find her, but another being entirely, who has just one demand of him.

“Bring me back.”

Random Headcanons:
Porthos is insecure about his voice. He speaks just fine, but usually he doesn’t sing / feels uncomfortable singing. His voice is kind of low and I’m still keeping an ear out for when I hear something similar to post as an example. A thing he likes to say before anyone has a chance to insult the way he sounds is that he sounds like a muffler with holes in it ( he doesn’t but he hates his voice).

He loves the color blue. There are a ton of things he owns that are in different shades of the color. If I don’t get descriptive with something he has around your character when writing, most likely if it belongs to Porthos, it’s blue. (Example: He passes them his flashlight. // It’s probably blue.) 

As far as technology goes, he works on different programs. He enjoys hooking too many lights to things when he has the freedom to do whatever he wants with whatever materials are around. If he has blue wiring or bulbs, he’s happy.

He absolutely adores his friends and isn’t afraid to let them know this when he’s drunk. Usually when he’s drunk, he’s more likely to say sorry and is usually softer about everything in general. Of course the next day he might wake up and regret telling someone sorry depending on the situation and who they are.

He loves when people ( he knows and likes) mess with his hair and he likes to mess with his own hair. usually if he runs his hand over the side of his head, it means he is comfortable and thinks that whatever just came out of his mouth was correct or a nice burn. 

Verse Dependant- The only time he skips a trip to the gym is when he can fit in dancing or other exercises somewhere else. He enjoys a good workout no matter what time it is and no matter where he is. Junk food is hard for him to avoid, but he does his best. He would like to eat healthy, but sweets and snack foods are just so tempting. 

He likes taking and sending pictures. Texting is also something he enjoys and he’s not afraid to blow up someone’s phone( especially if it’s a way to show someone he doesn’t like them/isn’t considerate of them).

baby-baby-boo  asked:

Imagine Woozi serenading you with the song Perfect by Ed Sheeran and giving you a heartfelt hug and kiss afterwards ( I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR WEEKS GOD PLEASE I CAN'T)

((tbvh with you, i never heard the song before so i had to listen to it first before replying ^^;;))

Imagine thanking him after that sweet little gesture by reciprocating his hugs and kisses and seeing his famous eyesmile upon you expressing your gratitude.

OR

Imagine him serenading you with said song when you’re about to sleep, filling your ears with his beautiful voice, softly lulling you to a peaceful slumber.

((can you tell that i really want woozi to lull me to sleep ? ._.))

- Admin Leen

DO IT AGAIN! And if you miss this time, I swear boy… “

His father’s voice stung against his ears like the leather strap that struck the back of his hand, yet he dare not whimper or cry - for that would only ensure further punishment. Shaky hands clutched tighter unto the bow and Gaston aimed yet again. He prayed to God that hit the mark this time, for he couldn’t endure another lashing. It was hard enough to see straight due to the intensity of the rain and the wind that accompanied, but there was never any excuses allowed for one’s m i s t a k e s.

It was always like this, practicing EVERYTHING - he had to be perfect at EVERYTHING, for his father would not allow their name to be tarnished by any faults. Thus he would sculpt his son into the man he wanted him to be, uncaring of how many times he would have to undergo scrutiny, for in the end he would beat all the imperfection out of him and what was left would be a true paragon.

The string pulled back and with a quick snap the arrow was released - time slowed until finally the tip pierced the surface of the target. Lips fell agape and the young Gaston flinched, arms and hands instinctively shielding his head and face, knowing what would follow. His father’s eyes narrowed, lips pursing and teeth grit - focused far too intently on where his son’s arrow had struck… all that mattered was that it was not a bulls-eye , which meant it was wrong.

Fingers had tightened over leather and in a fit of rage the patriarch released his anger on the flesh of his child. Anywhere he could manage, he hit - the sound echoed through the thicket, meshing along with Gaston’s screams - a perfect serenade of torture, that was the only reward his son would receive this day. When the brutality had ceased and Gaston’s flesh was red and swollen , decorated with black and blue welts - only then had his father been satisfied. Without even a word of remorse and only a look of disappointment to soothe his son - Monsieur Legume departed, leaving Gaston to see the error of his ways in solitude.

Gaston hadn’t moved, for every time he had, the pain returned and though he had grown accustomed to the agony he still hadn’t been impervious to the entirety just yet. Instead he allowed the rain to wash away his tears, his body covered in mud and muck, cradling that bow as if it were his mother. He knew he had to become stronger, he had to be perfect - for only then would his father love him… All he wanted was his approval, to have both his parents love him, but before he could have such a luxury, he would have to bury these emotions that held him back. It was in that moment that Gaston realized, he had to become just as vile as his father if he were to ever be strong enough to endure life. For fairytales did not exist. 

Jungkook’s sweet voice is all I need. His voice is so unique and so pleasing to hear, I could listen to it for hours and never get sick of it. It just always makes me feel warm, and home.