A/N: thank you for the feedback on part one! I decided that we needed a smutty ending to this. I’ll try tag people from part one on this one too! I’ll try to remember them. Please leave feedback and drop some asks in my ask box. The spacing is a little weird. I’m in my phone for this one. I wrote this with my mom sitting next to me 😂
“Stay quiet, baby. You don’t want anyone to hear you.” Bucky coos in your ear.
He has you hoisted up, legs wrapped around his waist. Your panties pushed to the side. His cock is still confined in his tight black jeans.
He had pulled you quickly into the dressing room at Victoria’s Secret not even ten minutes ago and he already has you wet and wanting. He roughly ripped your jeans of your body causing you to drop everything. He pulled out the black corset meant for your anniversary and stripped you. He watched as you slowly did up the corset staring directly into his cerulean blues.
“Don’t tease me, Sweetheart. We have to stay quiet. I don’t want ya gettin’ kicked outta this place. I wanna see you in every piece of lingerie they have.”
His words had you melting right there. You sped up and launched yourself at Bucky. He was ready to catch you. His assassin background being helpful. He held you up and pulled the bottom part of the corset away from your dripping core. You quickly yanked his jeans and boxers down his thighs, releasing his thick cock standing at full attention.
“Cmon Buck, I can’t wait any longer. I need to feel you inside me. Please baby.” You knew he loves to hear you beg for him. It made his cock even harder, if that was even possible.
He pulled your lips to his just as he slipped inside you. His mouth catching your loud moan.
“Quiet Sweetheart. We gotta go fast. I wanna get home and fuck you in all of your new panties.” he whispered quickly before he pecked your lips one more time. His thrusts were quick and deep. Hitting all the right spots.
“Buck. Oh my god! Right there baby! Right there!” you moaned into his ear. He kept hitting your g-spot continuously. The tip of his cock reaching depths you never knew was possible.
“Tell me your close y/n. I can’t last much longer. Your squeezin’ me so tight baby. I can’t hold it. Cum baby. Cum!”
Your orgasm exploded. You bit down on his shoulder to keep quiet. Leaving purple bruises in places he could show off at training the next day.
His hips started to stutter, losing their rhythm. A few thrusts later he came burying himself deep inside you you. You felt his warm cum coat your walls. He slowly slid down the door to the dressing room. All his energy spent fucking you senseless.
You heard a small hesitant knock at the door followed by a stuttering voice,
“I-I’m sorry, Miss, but I’m going to need you to exit the dressing room with your partner. Please buy your items and exit the store. I’m afraid you won’t be allowed back here.”
You started blushing while Bucky let out a howl of laughter. Quickly the both of you got dressed avoiding eye contact with all consultants as you left the dressing room. Bucky had the smug “I just got fucked good” look on his face. You were mortified but also pretty pleased with yourself. You knew you would be buying all lingerie online from this day forward.
He wished he could stop painting the blues and greens of those ocean irises and sunkissed skin sitting vulnerably in front of him. He wished he could stop, but he knows that he can’t. He was in too deep - too addicted to those chocolate mocha curls, the defined muscles that curved and mended his body, the bonfire scent that never failed to stimulate and heighten his senses, the raspy morning voice that seemed to always tumble out through those lustrous looking lips. He was hooked - completely enraptured and addicted to this man. And none of it was his to own. This man was a desire made to be off limits.
Eren was like an endangered species, a rare and exotic mammal worshipped and praised in a world filled with power thirsty men. He was the branches of the tropical trees reaching for the rich, moist air of the Amazon rain forest - the dew drops slipping off the fresh, greenery leaves and into the rich soil of the Earth. He was the desperate intake of air when rising from the depths of Washington’s freezing waters. He was an area of unknown wonders. An area of vast curiosity. A mystery.
On the other hand, Levi was - well he was the crumpled piece of paper at the bottom of his plastic blue dented trash can. The plastic blue dented trash can in his overcrowded room of pencil shavings and unfinished canvases. He was the smeared smoky watercolors staining the cold concrete flooring of his studio, the sketchy amateur lines inscribed into the massive piles of sketchbooks on his overly cramped desk of spilt mason jars and matted paint brushes. He was an uncompleted mess of cheap clutter - a hoarder, a waste of space.
He wished he could limit the amount of hours that he spent in his studio painting and perfecting those colors flourishing in his eyes, trying to convey the same range of sea green and cerulean blues swimming behind those thick black lashes.
There was just something about those sultry eyes staring back at him all posed and lazy on the stupid old rickety stool he bought from a yard sale but never had the guts to get rid of. He was a true hoarder of the meaningless things, the things that were never picked up by outstretched hands for their cheap outlook. Just like him. Cheap and meaningless.
He looked down at his canvas and cleared his dry throat, his eyes reverting back to the model posed in front of him. He wanted to paint this otherworldly man in red - in the color of passion and lust. He wanted to be the air filling Eren’s lungs that filtered through his body with every intake and exhale leaving his nose. He wanted to be the six hundred dollar trench coat clenched loosely in his white collared fingers just so he could feel him mold around the crevices of his naked skin and drown in his sweltering heat. He wanted to invade every inch of space between Eren’s widespread legs dressed in ripped light washed cutoffs so he could watch their shadows play out the joint connection of their bodies moving and joining in sweet ecstasy. He wanted to be painted in his red.
Levi took in Eren’s full parted lips letting out wisps of generous breaths and listened to the labored breathing of his healthy lungs tumbling through his smooth fleshy pink lips, completely entranced by his caramel chiseled chest slowly inhaling and exhaling. He swallowed.
“Something the matter, Levi? You look…distracted.”
Levi licked his lips and lifted his eyes to settle on Eren’s sculpted jawline and sharp nose. He didn’t want to risk looking into his tantalizing glare. He didn’t want to be tempted by the golden treasures lost at deep sea.
“No…I was…um-” He tsked and furrowed his thin brows in annoyance. Why wasn’t he able to speak? He was a fucking thirty year old man. Not a blubbering fifteen year old.
“Taking a short break?” Eren offered, his voice low, gruff, and dangerously husky.
Levi tightened his sweaty fingers around the paintbrush in his hand and shifted his eyes onto his canvas. “I…” He swallowed and licked his dry lips. Why was it so hard to speak to him today?
When he heard the familiar creaking of the stupid old rickety stool and the soft padding of Eren’s bare feet on the smoky water colored concrete flooring of his studio, Levi felt his heart clench and punch against his ribcage. Fuck.
No, I’m not…I can’t-
“Mr. Ackerman.” He whispered.
Levi felt his cheeks redden. Why did he have to go and say shit like that? There was a reason to why he told him not to call him by that, and it was specifically for this reason. He scrunched his nose up. The little shit was probably doing it on purpose.
“We should continue this tomorrow,” Levi muttered, quickly putting away his utensils and color palettes. “You have a meeting in thirty minutes anyways.” He continued, his voice calm and collected. The complete opposite to what he was feeling on the inside.
“Then I’ll cancel it.”
Levi deepened the furrow of his eyebrows and gnawed on his lip. “Well, Hanji is supposed to be coming-” He started before Eren grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at him, his eyes meeting his in an instant.
Levi let out a sharp breath and felt his cheeks burn tremendously as Eren’s thumb caressed his bottom lip, continuing to keep their eyes on each other as Eren slowly pulled down his lip. Just when he was starting to lean down, Levi freaked out and moved to grab onto his portable cart of paint to back away from him, but instead pulled it down with him. He panicked and fell out of his stool, spilling all of his bottles of paint onto him and on the floor in all kinds of colors. Levi cursed and wiped a good amount of paint from his eyes as he stared down at the mess he made. Why was he always like this? It was like his whole life was born to be a mess from the very beginning.
Just as he was about to sit up, Eren’s warm hands grasped onto his face and pushed him back down onto the floor, climbing over his body. Levi could feel the spilt paint seeping into his hair and clothes and clenched his jaw. He felt filthy. Disgusting.
He should be getting up to get a change of clothes and jumping into the shower right this second, but with the presence of Eren over his body, he thought otherwise. Besides, he hardly ever got the chance to be this close to Eren and still have the ability to get away with it. It was like a blessing - as if he was in the presence of a deity, a god.
Levi pressed his paint covered hands on Eren’s bare chest and pushed. “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked, trying not to focus on how Eren’s hot skin felt under his cold palms. “I will not be responsible for replacing your expensive fucking pants if you end up getting paint on them.”
Eren chuckled. “I don’t plan on it. Besides…” He started, briefly looking down at Levi’s painted lips before he inched down and brushed his mouth over Levi’s, purposefully coating his lips in a dark shade of blue.
Do you know any good blogs that post about the tenth doctor and rose?? :D
Oh my dear sweet Nonny. Do I ever. ;)
About blogs on this list:
They’ve been friendly/positive to everyone, and/or made positive contributions, and/or have been inclusive or supportive of everyone in the fandom
They have least a couple original content and/or reviews/recs/prompts of original content with the Tenth Doctor and Rose
Note that many of these are also multifandom, general Doctor Who blogs, or mainly focused on other Doctors. Some may keep most or all of their content on other sites like AO3 or deviantart, and some may no longer be active in the DW fandom but still include access to their Ten/Rose content
Do you post original Ten/Rose fanworks such as recs/rec lists, prompts, fanfic, tagfic, headcanons, fan art, photography, graphics, edits, gifsets, etc? Contact me so I can add you to this list ♥ Likewise, if you wish to not be on this list for any reason contact me and I’ll remove your name :)
This is less of a headcanon and more of a thought I’ve been mulling for ages and ages. But yes, either way, it’s still long and rambly. Lol. Saddle up, kids, this post is gonna go on forever.
Misty was not very close with her sisters before leaving home. We see this in The Water Flowers of Cerulean City and The Misty Mermaid and even a bit in Gotta Catch Ya Later, as well as in flashbacks from Princess Vs Princess and Cerulean Blues, but yeah. It wasn’t like it was abuse or neglect or anything but… there was a bridge, a gap, a wall, that had clearly been placed there.
For @kittenofdoomage Summer Loving Challenge. I had reading. Turned fluffy instead of smutty.
You had a secret.
The smell of old books, new books, ancient lore tomes and scrolls, sent the tingles up and down your spine. The warmth would settle in your core, throbbing sensations would disrupt you from research, and when Sam would catch your eye over the latest research, your face flushed with a heat of a thousand suns.
And he knew your secret.
Because he held onto the same one.
You both were what others considered bibliophiles. A person who collects or has a great love for books. Sam wasn’t just attracted to books, he was lured in by smarts, wanderlust, a girl who could travel without leaving the confines of the bunker.
He was enamored by you; by your adventures in wonderland, the way you nose crinkled at the morose parts of a story, how your eyes sparkled at the mischief, how you’d spend hours in another world and appear sullen when the real life would come calling.
Reading was your getaway. Uncharted seas, you read Tolkien, Keats, Frost, and other greats. On the side, Sam would tackle how-to’s, self-help, and fantasy. You’d both be classified under bibliophilia. Sounds dirty, but it’s just the opposite. Books were and still are considered pure escapism. Purity in its written form. The way the written word could cleans you of the everyday grime of a hunt, that was why you loved to read.
It’s why the library in the bunker is where you found yourself that evening. The latest hunt left you wanton. The scalding shower left your bloodied and bruised body raw. Still, you needed more. You desired sanctuary, respite, you long for long strings of words to rid your mind of anxiety. You were engulfed in Frost’s most compelling work of art, wandering the lonely, barren, wooded trail, imagining how life would be if you were a solo hunter, when a warm presence intruded your thoughts.
“Frost, again?” Sam used his library voice, deep, husky, and a bit sultry. He knew when you read the poet’s works it had to have been a harrowing hunt. Same had stayed back while you and Dean went to take on a rather run of the mill salt and burn. However, one child’s ghost, multiplied into unsuspecting triplets, and you had been tossed like a mere doll into a sycamore tree.
“Freakin’ triplets of the Crypt Keeper,” you referenced, shuddering at the memory of their gruesome features.
Sam noticed how you were sitting, propped up with pillows and surrounded by books, scattered in an arch around your feet,
“They hurt you?” he inquired with a somber voice.
You raised the back of your t-shirt to reveal a myriad of amethysts and ceruleans blues forming like shooting starbursts. Sam gently traced one causing goosebumps to form on your delicate exposed skin. He traced them for awhile before he spoke again,
“I hate seeing you hurt, YNN.”
You tsked, “I hate getting hurt, Sammy, but it’s all part of the job, right?”
“You know what I mean, YN,” Sam gave you a half smile, fixing your shirt and pulling you into his side, placing a chaste kiss on top of your messy, YHC, hair.
“I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t come back from a hunt.” The silence spoke volumes.
“Ditto,” you nudged him in the ribs.
He pushed on, “I care way too much about you to ever let that happen, you know that, right, YNN?”
You looked up from beneath your long lashes and nodded in concurrence, “I know you’d do anything and everything for me, and I love ya for that, I do.”
Sam fidgeted, “Uh, well, um, yeah, that’s what I’m trying and failing to say,” he ruffled his hair in frustration.
“So just say it,” you egged him on, entwining your fingers with his.
He picked up Frost and searched the pages until he cleared his throat, “A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.”
Replying with Bronte almost immediately, the words falling from your tongue, “Whatever his soul is made of, his and mine are the same.”
“Truly?” Sam questioned you.
“I love you Sam, more than Frost or Bronte could ever put into words, I love you more than books themselves.”
“You love me more than books?” he exasperated.
“Don’t ruin the moment, Winchester,” you inched closer to him, eyeing his lips and he met you in the middle. Plump lips kissing your eager ones.
Quoting again, once he pulled back from the kiss, knowing you’d melt, “I love the shape of your lips and how they fit so perfectly with the shape of mine.”
Hot off the market, delicious, smutty, and amazing. Thank you so very much, Harryfordrarryrpjohnjohnlock. You were brilliant and I had so much fun rping with you. You’re an absolute doll and I’d love to kiss your cheeks and feed you pastries. Can’t wait to continue!
there will be a part two. don’t you worry, dears.
Stranger: (Johnlock, Vampire!John) Everything had been fine. Sherlock had no clue what was going on around him. With his experiments, Sherlock never noticed what went on around him, and that the entire time he had been a vampire. That was, until one day, Sherlock was supposed to be out the entire day on a wild goose chase he sent him on, and instead he found him, feeding. Sherlock just hadn’t left him alone, always bothering him. So he had to bring the feed here. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have a lair-ish place, he did, in Baker Street 221c. Sherlock didn’t know. And when he saw him feeding, he thought Sherlock would be interested. But no. He ran. Giving him a head start, John laughed darkly before he chased after him, until Sherlock was going out. He drove him into a wood-ish forest area, before he pinned him onto the ground. “If you wanted to escape, you should have ran faster.” John laughed, holding him tight, his tongue running over his lips, over his fangs. (Please reply as Sherlock.)
You: What crossed his mind in moment of seeing the actual feeding and then deciding to run was… He wasn’t sure what it was. He just knew that he had needed to get out. To get safe and find somewhere to /think/. Not that he thought John would hurt him-it was John. John wouldn’t hurt /him/-others, perhaps-but not /him/. How wrong he’d been when he realized he was being followed. /Herded/ seemed like the proper term given the fact that the man was urging him somewhere. He thought, /foolishly/, that perhaps the man was just establishing a spot for them to talk it through. Somewhere private. How /idiotic/ could he be? It was over the moment he took true notice to where he’d been led, the trees closing in around him like a wooden cage. Then he was done. The brunet hissed, arching his back and moving to push John off with his hips to tip their balance and get a rolling motion. It didn’t work, and the panic flared more within the pit of his churning gut. “John-” he cut off, eyes widening at the sight of pink against pointy pearly white. His pulse rocketed, pounding feverishly within his ears. His struggling growing anew. “Off. Get /off/.”
NAME: Alicia NICKNAME: Alisa (I go by this one) ZODIAC SIGN: Sun sign - Aries; moon sign - Libra; rising - Cancer HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin!! FAVE BOOK SERIES: Hmmm Harry Potter, probs (typical, I know) FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS: I don’t really think about this kind of stuff a lot, but currently Claire Underwood of House of Cards is on my mind FAVE FLOWER: Lilies, lilies of the valley, and roses FAVE SCENT: I like really light and fruity scents, mostly FAVE COLOR: Blue! I really love deep, ocean blues or ceruleans. FAVE ANIMALS: PUPPIES!!! FAVE ARTIST/BAND: Oh God I have so many. Lately, I’ve been jammin Banks a lot. COFFEE, TEA, OR COCOA: Yes AVERAGE # HOURS OF SLEEP: I try to get 8 a night NUMBER OF BLANKETS: I own more than I can count. I sleep with… 4? I think? Maybe more DREAM TRIP: Iceland tbh LAST THING GOOGLED: The name of my new apartment building so that I could find its address BLOG CREATED: 2010. I’ve been on this hellsite for way too long. HOW MANY BLOGS YOU FOLLOW: 296 NUMBER OF FOLLOWERS: It fluctuates around 1,600 WHAT I USUALLY POST: My original content is mostly selfies, maybe the occasional art piece WHAT I USUALLY REBLOG: I mean if you’re seeing this, it ostensibly means that you’re either following me or on my blog, so you can see for yourself
I’m not tagging anyone in particular, but consider yourself tagged if you’d like to do this!
Thor did not know what to expect upon entering an arranged marriage, but he thought conversation at least would be part of it. Yet in the privacy of their shared quarters Loki remained most entirely self-contained, lost in a world of their own making.
When you look at the scene when Ash realizes that Misty and him have to part ways, you notice how different Ash’s body language is compared to the other times his friends announced that they had to leave. Subsequent moments between his other friends were moments of mutual separations. There were moments of solemness but in general, Ash accepted his friends’ departures and was happy for their motivations and reasons.
Which is why it’s so striking when compared to Misty’s departure.
The central crux of the episode was that Misty was saddened that Ash wouldn’t be emotionally affected by her departure. Ash is initially shown to be glad that Misty’s bike is fixed, his attempt at expressing graciousness for what he saw as a positive development for Misty, which ironically results in her being upset. However, after the moment where Ash and Misty praise each other once they defeat the Invincible Pokemon Brothers, Ash gets an almost uncharacteristic strike of seriousness. His face sours. He motions to Misty’s bike with displeasure. In contrast to his earlier attitude, he says with discomfort, “There’s your bike,” almost unsure of how to continue the painful inevitability.
Ash is now showing resistance to the fact that Misty has to leave. His happiness he showed for Misty at the Pokemon Center wasn’t the whole story; his happiness was expressed out of courtesy for a friend and actually dissembled his real feelings. So in fact, this separation is unique in that both Ash and Misty were the only characters both not mutually happy about what was transpiring. Which tells you a lot about how special Ash and Misty’s relationship is intended to be.
Gotta Catch You Later was written by Hideki Sonoda who had also written Misty Meets Her Match. He would later write the first Misty special for Pokemon Chronicles, Cerulean Blues. In Misty Meets Her Match, Misty makes the painful decision to commit herself to Ash over Rudy, a decision point that could have lead to her a departure if Misty wasn’t staying true to her heart. So perhaps it’s fitting that Sonoda would be the screenwriter to pen her actual departure, illustrating and exploring the reciprocity of Ash and Misty’s relationship and the effects of involuntary departure on the heart as opposed voluntary departure. It seems to come full circle as he finishes Misty’s arc in Cerulean Blues. As Misty finds security in her gym, she also finds security in her thoughts of Ash. Departed or not, Misty’s commitment to Ash maintains its resolve.
my ask might have gotten eaten but do you have any tips for making song sprite edits that don't have a specific motif?
do you mean as in ‘no already designed costumes and theme’? cos i do have only ONE tip for you! it’s the most easiest!
Just let your mind loose and get creative!
what do i mean by this? here’s a nice food for thought that you can try.
put the song you want to make a sprite edit on and close your eyes. or leave them open. both can work. now, zone out for a bit. go into thought for a sec. listen to the song, the tempo, the beat, the genre. imagine things while listening to the song, like “what color would this song be if it had one?” “what do i think of when i listen to this song?” “how do i feel when i listen to this song? angry? sad? tired?”. ask yourself a lot of things relating to the song. imagine events playing out while you listen to the song with the character you want to edit.
let’s take this song for example. it’s a BGM with no vocals. i can tell you, from listening to the song, this is what i see :
the song’s tune is slow, but jazzy. it’s got a city-vibe to it.
the colors i think of first are cool colors, purple-blue-dull but dark turquoise with a dash of yellow like the moon.
when listening to this song, i feel happy, but also relieved and tired. it’s something i would listen to when i calm down or when i’m working at night.
when i hear this song, i think of a character roaming the city while everyone is going to bed, when the lights of stores and buildings are still vibrantly glowing. the character is wearing something purple, or cool colors, or even brown. they have a scarf and beret on, and something classy. their hair is also short, maybe styled, wavy. if the character was a girl, she would have a few long eyelashes, but no heavy makeup. just some lipstick. maybe she’s also smoking. she’s also feeling tired, and looking at the night sky while she smokes.
don’t get the concept yet? let’s try another. here’s another one of my favorites. this one is a mashup of Tell Your World and Vidro Moyou.
the song starts off as slow, and a bit melancholy. once you hit a certain part in the song, it blasts, like, explodes. but makes you go 'WHOA’.
the colors i imagine with this song is from dark blue (cerulean), to bright blues, pinks?, yellows, purple, indigo, and white. all gradient-like.
while listening to this song, i feel sad, but not like BOOHOO I’M SAD BECAUSE I SUCK SAD, sad as in ’“i’m happy i could tell you my feelings while crying happy tears’ sad.
when hearing this song, i imagine a girl telling a boy she likes her feelings. i imagine light striking everywhere, bursts of white sparkles, stars, coming from her heart. her hair, flowing behind her, waving around as she release her feelings from within. she’s wearing either light blue, white, or light pink. there are gradients all over her, light orbs, she’s standing behind a starry sky. there are tears in her eyes. she’s surprised, but happy. she’s also got a vibrant color, and is wearing a dress of some sort.
and actually, here is the outcome of that song!
you need to think about these kinds of things! sure, the process of making an entire wardrobe of a song that HAS no specific outfit designs might sound difficult, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to do! give it a try! i’m sure you’ll come up with something!
Right as soon as the clock above my balding professors head turned to 3:00 i ran out the door and straight into the pouring rain.
‘It probably started raining right before class ended too!!’ I thought to myself.
I pulled my bag up higher on my shoulder and ran the four blocks to the local bakery/coffee shop & was praying to the high heavens he didn’t show up already. Before walking into the shop rang out my long auburn hair & looked through the glass to see if he was, i silently cheered that i made it on time. Walking in i ordered my regular hot chocolate & blueberry muffin while the girl at the front told me he hasn’t showed up. I looked at her with a puzzled look on my face, well i hoping thats what my face read anyways. All she did was smile as she handed me my cup and muffin, i turned around and headed for my regular booth that faced the window & took out my book that i’ve been reading… well attempting to read the past two months.
Looking at my the time on my phone i watched as it changed from 3:30 to 3:30
’He should have been here by now.’
Putting my book away & slipping my coat & tossing the last of my muffin away opening the door walking straight into a wall. Well it wasn’t a wall but a hard & defined torso. Looking up i saw the cerulean blue eyes i have been waiting for, for the past half hour.
“Leaving so soon?!”
And just like that i forgot how to speak the English language. My brain cells became mush, my mouth was moving but nothing was coming out. He just stared and that smirk appeared on his lips, & his lovely laugh followed suit.
“Small iced coffee, & a muffin as per usual.” the barista yelled.
“Thanks Callie.” He said while paying for his things, and right before he headed out the door i turned back towards me, & handed me the small brown bag which held his muffin.
“And maybe i’ll see you later, bye.” And just like this he was out the door & stood there completely dumb founded.
'What the hell just happened?!!?!?'
“Umm.. you just had a conversation with Jay McGuiness…. well he had one with you while you just stood there….”
“…. I said that out loud?!” I turned around to a nodding Callie…. I need to be more careful next time…