black armchair

  • someone: youre so overdramatic!!!!!!
  • me: *draped over a plush, black velvet armchair with gold trim, wearing a floor length blue gown in the middle of the day, holding a hand with many large rings delicately to my chest and sipping soda from a wine glass* what ever do you mean?
Silent Treatment

Group: BTS


Summary: you break a promise and your punishment is the silent treatment

Genre: drabble, fluff

Length: 0.9k

A/N: please leave a request!

Originally posted by dreamyoongi

Min Yoongi was good at a lot of things, to name a few; rapping, all-nighters and the silent treatment. Before you had started dating, you hadn’t realised just how good he was at ignoring people who had wronged him. Yet here you were, day four of the silent treatment and you hated every second without his voice.

Keep reading

spotlight || b.b

Relationship: AU!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: When your agent decides a publicity stunt is what you need, you’re fallen into the trap that is Bucky Barnes’ life. How long can you keep up with his attitude and antics or will he redeem himself before it’s too late?

Warnings: kinda asshole bucky and fluff

Word Count: 2.3k


“No way, there is no way I’m doing that,” you said sternly, standing up from your position in the rather large black armchair, “I’m not gonna be exploited like that,” you huffed, walking out of the conference room. 

Bucky Barnes was Hollywood’s highest paid actor, earning a whopping sixty-five million dollars in the last year. He was everything you were looking for in an actor. He was handsome, beyond handsome even his piercing blue eyes and chocolate locks complemented his complexion. He was well built and could perform practically all of his own stunts, which attracted many casting directors. 

People everywhere drooled over him and wished they could one day be like him, but of course, no one was really perfect. 

Bucky Barnes also had the world’s biggest God complex on top of his already ballooned ego and cockiness. He knew he was the best and he didn’t once try to deny it. 

You on the other hand, were fresh blood. Very new to the scene, having only a few major debuts in films and only one major role. It wasn’t your fault and your agent did the best she could, but Hollywood bites. 

So when you walked into a meeting that proposed the idea of you dating Bucky Barnes, the world’s most eligible bachelor, you scoffed at the idea not wanting to be sucked into the realm that is Bucky Barnes life. 

Keep reading

the one with the coffee shop.

Remus Lupin likes books. Old books with dog-eared pages so thin the ink shows through in sunlight. He likes paper back copies of Penguin Classics and out-of-the-way armchairs in dimly lit coffee shops just far enough off campus that no one knows him. He likes coffee with cream and leaf-like patterns in the foam. He likes his thick knit jumper that overflows over his delicate torso, the colour of fresh autumn drizzle. He likes breathing against the glass of the window and drawing funny faces. He likes absentmindedly doodling swirls on his napkin as he reads. He likes highlighting in orange. He likes slipping his boots off and tucking his legs up into his chair. He likes the warmth when it’s cool, and the cool when it’s warm. He doesn’t like Sirius Black.

Keep reading

You Really Shouldn’t Have (Sherlock x reader) Valentine’s day

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone! I know I promised to give you a fanfic spam (it’s coming alright) but I really wanted to give you this one fix on time. This represent my ideal thinking of Valentine’s day and since there ain’t even much of these (usually it’s Sherlock and him only hating on this specific day) so let’s change things up a bit? Hope you enjoy this on some level. I’m a real hater, alright. Sorry for that. 

You were peacefully sitting on your boyfriend’s armchair, the black leather warmed up by your body heat, the day’s newspaper in your hands that you had found on the table. You figured no one in the house had yet to read it, it had been carelessly thrown on the table, the pages slightly of place as it had landed on the wooded furniture. It had been on top of all the other post from today so it was more important than the letters and commercial flies. You found some of the articles interesting as well, but doubted they were the reason Sherlock wanted to read the paper.

When you heard the front door open, John chatting with Sherlock you still didn’t lift your eyes from the paper. You let your eyes wonder over a review of a new restaurant just a ten minutes walk from Baker Street. That of course wasn’t what had drawn you to read.

”Good morning, (Y/n).” John chuckled and you could hear amusement through his voice. You smiled back at him over your paper wishing the same for John as you positioned yourself better on the chair, pulling your legs to you, crossing them.

Sherlock stood next to you and a pink blur came to your view. You turned your head to your left, seeing a huge bouquet of flowers of different kinds on the hand of your boyfriend. ”There.” Sherlock muttered as if he was doing something against his will, something that irked him more than anything in the world. Your gaze climbed up his hand, to meet his face. He moved the flowers closer to you, begging you to take them. You put the paper aside and took the flowers, your brows furrowed at what was going on.

”Thank you?” You more of asked. You looked at the flowers again. There were probably five different shades of pink in them, each darker and lighter than the other. ”What’s this for?” You questioned and looked at John and then Sherlock. The smile on John’s face disappeared by your statement and he looked at you in a way he did when Sherlock said something stupid. Like when he once again proved him how incapable he was of feeling empathy. Sherlock on the other hand rolled his eyes and let an exaggerated sigh like the drama queen he was.

”Even if I hate eventful days and holidays, it does not mean I don’t remember them.” He looked down on you, irritatedly. ”Did you really think I would forget Valentine’s day?” He snapped waving his hands in anger. His hairs moved when he shook his head violently, and you could hear John clear his throat, trying to signal Sherlock he was getting too far.

So that is what it was all about! You let out a long ”oooooh” in realization and laugh, ”It’s Valentine’s day!” You admit to yourself.

Now John and Sherlock were both staring at you as if you had said something wrong. They looked at each other, then their intense stare returning towards you. You got up from the couch, the rug under your bare foot warming your chilly toes. You walk to the kitchen and take one of Sherlock’s measuring glasses, big and tall enough for the bouquet and fill it with warm water.

”I totally forgot.” You laughed by yourself, then going over and giving Sherlock a kiss on the cheek. ”You shouldn’t have.” You chuckled. You started taking his coat and folding it over the backrest of a chair next to the desk behind Sherlock’s seat. ”And I mean it when I say you shouldn’t have.” You assured Sherlock, how dumbfoundedly sat on his chair.

”You forgot Valentine’s day?” John was first to talk from the two men in the room. He couldn’t come up with a girl in his mind who would forget a day as such. He could make a list of men on the other hand that never bothered to pay attention to a day dedicated to appreciating your loved ones and friends.

”I try my best.” You shrugged, standing next to Sherlock’s desk, leaning your butt against the wood to support you. ”I actually hate Valentines day.” You admitted, shamefully smiling. Sherlock looked at you over his shoulder, he was as surprised as John of finding out you were one of the rare girls who didn’t like Valentine’s day.

”You are telling me I bought those flowers for nothing? You wouldn’t had even mentioned the whole Valentine’s day if I wouldn’t have brought it up?” He was bewildered. You nodded after giving it a thought. Then your eyes opened wide. You let your eyes fix on Sherlock and hurried to ask, ”Please tell me the flowers are the only way of celebrating this awful day.”

”Of course it is. And if I would’ve known you dislike this horrible event I wouldn’t have bothered with the flowers.” He turned his head towards John again, you chuckled at your boyfriend. You were now speaking for you and John by saying, ”I honestly thought you would forget this day, or do your best not to bring it up.” You walked by, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head and said, ”I’ll go take a shower.” And you walked to the bathroom.

”You said she would like the flowers!” Sherlock snapped at John who raised his hands up in defense.

”How should’ve I known she doesn’t like Valentine’s day? Every normal girl likes Valentine’s day.” John thought for a second and then said, ”Then again I guess she isn’t normal, she is dating you for example.” Sherlock pulled his head back, slightly offended by his friend’s statement.

John took a seat across from Sherlock, leaning closer and then saying with a low voice, ”This girl is like made for you Sherlock. You have to realize that.” And that Sherlock did, even if it had come to him as a surprise just how well you two fit together, especially after the flower incident. ”And you should cancel that reservation you made at the restaurant.” John reminded.

”Yes, of course.” Sherlock agreed and took his phone out in a hurry.

sugar ❖ sehun (4)

❝You ain’t coming in my apartment if you smoke another cigarette❞

admin : - velvet
genre : fluff, smut (i know i said that this chap would have smut, but this was gettin too long, so smut in the next i promise you), pretty huge age gap, kinda daddyish, ceo!sehun, angst

(gif not mine, cr to the owner)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Epilogue

When you entered Sehun’s office you quickly noticed how it reflexed perfectly his personality, it was tidy, everything has its own place and purpose, not even the bottle of wine was there just for please the aesthetic of the office, everything was grey or white, it looked sad and that was exactly why Sehun and his office were equal.

Take a seat❞ he suggested showing you the big black armchair in front of his desk. With trembling legs you reached for the seat, sitting down with your eyes trailing on his figure.

Keep reading

Getting in Shape

I hope everyone is having a lovely worldwide Freezerburn day!

It’s been like a year since I’ve posted any Freezerburn writing and I wrote this about 2 years ago but I wanna post more often so I’ve given it the once over and I hope some of you guys enjoy this.

It’s a NSFW Freezerburn gym AU thingy where Yang is a personal trainer and proof I am actual trash for this ship.

If you like this and want more content let me know by liking/reblogging or even sending me an ask. If you send prompts to me there’s more of a chance i’ll write the stuff you want (I’m a little rusty so encouragement and ideas are all good).

Warnings: Sex. Yes they do the do okay?

Pairing: Freezerburn

934 words

This was stupid.

When Weiss had said she wanted to make sure she was in peak physical condition for the company annual sports fair she hadn’t meant for her head of public relations to actually hire her a personal trainer. She had been given a time and instructions to enter the gym and take a seat by the treadmills and reluctantly she had complied.

Keep reading

Taking Back Control (Part one)

[ before I begin, I’d like to explain. I’ve had this story idea for the alter egos for a while now, and @reverseblackholeofwords gave me the inspiration to post it (hope you don’t mind that I’ve tagged you >.<

is it too late to tag @intplier as well? Another fav blog of mine??

I have no idea if it’s any good, so I’ll let the internet judge)
Taking Back Control - Part 1

Amy awoke in a bed she didn’t recognise, with a splitting headache and a desperate need to pee. She tilted her head to look for Mark next to her. He wasn’t there. There was no sign of him having ever been there. Amy sat up, almost collapsing under the pain that followed. She brushed her hands across the back of her head, feeling a slight lump. She groaned, rubbing her face with her hands before making an effort to examine to room around her. She sat in a predominantly white bed, though the covers and pillows had a yellow swirling design of birds and flowers. It would have been pretty, but the possibility that whoever had placed her here was pandering with the bed design was a vaguely uncomfortable feeling. Amy shook her head slightly, she couldn’t assume anything yet. Maybe she was on holiday in a hotel, and she was too tired to remember where she was. That sort of thing happens right?

She looked over the room, glad to feel that the pain in her head had numbed to a slight throbbing. The room was square and predominately white. It was styled like an old mansion, with fancy designs joining the walls together. No windows let in any light, though Amy found a lamp on her bedside table, which she gratefully turned on, letting her eyes adjust. A simple white vase with some fresh yellow flowers sat on the bedside table. Opposite the bed was an antique fireplace - although currently unlit - with two armchairs placed around it. Amy would have continued examining each nook and cranny of the place, but she had another pressing matter. Her bladder. To her right was an offshoot to the room, with two wooden doors. Surely a room this fancy had an en suite! She stood, staggering slightly as her head throbbed. Her shoes had been placed next to the bed, so she slipped them on and headed to the doors. One was locked, though the other did indeed lead to a bathroom, complete with spa, shower and toilets, which Amy used gratefully. Upon relieving her bladder, she took a moment to examine her appearance in the mirror above the marble sink. She had a bad case of bed hair, and was wearing the same clothes she remembered wearing yesterday, a simple white sweater and blue jeans. Well, maybe yesterday, she had no idea how much time had passed. Her clothes proved to her, however, that this was no hotel. Surely she would have changed, and no one just forgets where they are for this long without known amnesia. Plus, Mark was nowhere to be seen. This led Amy to one main conclusion. She’d been kidnapped. There seemed no other explanation. The bump on her head, the amnesia, the unfamiliar place.
Her heart rate quickened dramatically. Though this realisation led to her being more grateful for the clothes she was wearing. No one had seen her naked body while she was unconscious.

Amy left the bathroom, trying once again on the other door. It seemed thoroughly locked. She walked back into the main bedroom, searching around throughly. She found another door on the other side of the bed, but in led into a simple walk in closet filled with empty coat hangers. She considered using a coat hanger to attempt to open the other door, but decided against it. She doubted that would work anyways. Her ‘kidnapper’ seemed relatively intelligent. All the rooms had been cleared of any objects that could cause damage to anyone. No towels to throw, nor sharp toiletries, or even wood in the fire. Smacking someone over the head with a coat hanger was a pitiful last resort. However, there was a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush, which she used to clean herself up. The kidnapper had even provided her with tampons and pads, though this disturbed Amy more than anything. It seemed to imply she’d be here for a while.

Amy must have been pacing that room for half an hour, her mind coming up with horror scenarios, before she heard noise outside. She jerked, her heart pounding and head throbbing. Foot steps approached the door, accompanied by a slight whirring. She couldn’t help but instinctively back into the opposite wall. The lock twisted and the door creaked inwards. Amy’s eyes widened in relief. It was Mark! She rushed forward to him.
“Oh thank god, Mark!” She grasped his hands. They were as cold as ice, “Do you know where we are?” He scowled at her, and pulled his hands away, placing them stiffly at his side.
“I am not Mark.” he said monotonously, the word ‘not’ stuttering slightly as it left his lips. Amy pulled back, looking over the man in front of her. They looked like Mark, there was no denying it. They wore a pair of jeans and a blue shirt, though upon closer inspection, Amy saw that the G on their shirt glowed slightly. They wore Mark’s glasses, and their eyes were also tinted a slight red, which shone against the glass.

It couldn’t be…

“Who are you then?” She questioned slowly. ‘Mark’s’ head glanced up, expression neutral, eyes glowing slightly brighter.
“I am an early experimental prototype of the Google IRL unit. I am designed to answer questions and complete rudimentary tasks. If you have any complaints, please phone-” a screeching static noise erupted from him, causing Amy to flinch back. He never finished his statement, as he returned back to his scowling expression, locking eye contact with Amy. “Did that sufficiently answer your question?” He asked with a slight smirk, seeing Amy’s startled look. She let out a slight, breathy laugh, not out of humour, but shock. She had thought Mark was pranking her, but that glitching was real, and Mark would never kidnap her like this. This had to be some sort of vivid dream. Sure, dreams usually weren’t this vivid, but any explanation made more sense than the robot in front of her. She pinched herself. Nothing happened. Google sighed. “I understand that this must be hard to comprehend Miss Nelson, but I really don’t have time to deal with your questions.” He grasped her hand in a crushing grip, and walked swiftly out the door, which Amy just had time to close behind her.
“O-okay-” She was cut of as Google spun around, shoving her into the wall wildly, glitching and stuttering.
“Don’t say it!” He growled out threateningly, causing Amy to gasp out.
“I w-was just agreeing…” The robot pulled back, looking her over, though one hand still tightly gripped hers.
“Oh. My apologies Miss Nelson. However, I must inform you before we continue that the phrase ‘Okay Google’ is banned from this household.”
“R-right. Of course, sorry.” She mumbled. She looked around. Straight forward from the bedroom door was a hallway, ending in a door. To her left was a longer hallway, which opened into a larger space in the centre. Google took her down this way hastily, causing her to stumble and trip behind him. He continued to drag her however, so she pulled herself into a standing position, trying not the step on the back of his sneakers. The open space lead to two, large curved staircases on her left, though the right wall was closed off by large, red curtains. She swore she heard music on the other side, though Google gave her no time to investigate as he lead her up the stairs, his joints whirring as he went.
“This way, Miss Nelson.” She snorted, stumbling up the stairs in his wake.
“It’s not like I have much of a choice.” She muttered, but if he heard, he made no comment.

Upon reaching the first floor of the stairs, which went on for one more storey, Amy gasped in amazement. A huge room opened out at the the base of the stairs, with a ceiling two storeys high decorated with a huge chandelier. The far walls were covered in tall windows, letting in trickling rays of sunlight. A long, narrow table sat in the centre, with many comfortable-looking chairs surrounding it whilst the sides of the room held several configurations of armchairs, some set up in front of television screens . No one seemed to occupy the space at the moment, however, and Google made a sharp right, leading her down a short hallway, stopping outside a double door on the right. He pushed it open, shoving Amy through, and stepped in after her, closing the door behind him. The room had dark grey wallpapers and white, marble floor. The centre had a rectangle of black armchairs, set on top of a black and white carpet, with a pleasing symmetrical pattern. Google gestured to it.
“Sit. He will see you shortly.” Amy tensed. Google pointed at the door on the left side of the room, before moving towards it. “I will inform him that you’ve arrived.” And with that Amy was alone, and only then did she notice the faint ringing in her ears. Her blood ran cold, and her body constricted with a crushing sense of terror. If Google was real, did that mean…
She she ran forwards to a third door ahead of her. It appeared to be made of glass, and looked over a wooden deck. The forest landscape would’ve been beautiful if she weren’t so afraid of what was to come. The door was locked. She considered smashing it, but that would’ve been loud and drawn quick attention. She turned back, noticing a hallway. She moved to run down it, before realising it simply led to a large bathroom. The ringing grew louder. She rushed to the first door desperately, hands clawing at the door handle.

It was unlocked.

Amy took no chances, she sprinted down the hall, back past the central grand room. She glanced over it for exits. The doors in that room all appeared to lead to the deck, an easy way to get cornered. She turned back towards the two, towering staircases. The hallway in between them led to large, wooden double doors. That had to be the exit!

She ran, passing two large open archways on her sides that she didn’t bother to inspect. They would be onto her soon. She tripped on a short stairway leading down to the entrance, and slammed into the door. She tired to open it desperately. It was locked shut. Her heart plummeted, and she sunk to her knees. Of course it was locked. What had she expected? Would she be punished for attempting to run? The lump on the back of her head pounded heavily, accompanied by the loud ringing in her ears. She clawed her weak, shaking hands against her ears. Amy felt sick. Faint. She made a last ditch effort to slam her hands desperately against the smooth wooden doors when she heard footsteps behind her.

“The Host thinks that’s a bad idea Miss Nelson.”


Hidden Pleasures Part 2 (Orson Krennic x Reader) - Smut

Originally posted by fysw

Summary: You confront Orson with what he had done in your cell. Maybe it can be in your favor?

A/N: Sorry again, for the long chapter. I just don’t know when to stop…

Part 1

Tags: @my-forbidden-fantasies @banieldryan @sharknadoslut @slut-garden @allwillendindoom @blueeyesbaelish @mugsysam @maddyevans16@missmendelsohn @ohyouloveus @ben-mendelsohn-trash @socktrollqueen 

Warnings: SMUT, Harsh Language, A little bit of Angst.

Keep reading