#not too proud of this one ngl

[lotte-s-web]

OH MY GOD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED UR ASK 🫧ANON IM SO SORRY BUT PLS I KNOW I SAW IT😭😭 ur so right though about hobie having a thing for loser nerds its augh

₊✩‧ ❝hobie x loser!reader❞ headcanons ✩‧₊

₊˚⭑ warnings: nsfw, gn!reader, teasing, penetrative sex

He’s such a sucker for loser nerds, such a sucker for you. He’s addicted to the way the simplest of things get you riled up so easily, how he can do so little and watch it affect you so much.

He loves flustering you, loves teasing you by interrupting your rambling and asking you to repeat yourself, leaning in closer to “hear ya bett'r.” He just finds it so cute when you stutter over yourself, losing your train of thought ‘cause of how close his face is to yours. he loves the way you have to grip at yourself to keep your composure from faltering. He knows he’s being mean, he knows he’s being an ass, but god, he can’t help it that you’re so pretty when you’re a bit embarrassed.

He loves touching you, loves knowing how it ignites an uncomfortable warmth at your core that you desperately try to ignore. It’s never a big gesture either, just an arm draped around your shoulder, his knees knocking against yours. he pretends he doesn’t notice how your breath hitches, how your thighs rub together as you try to carry on with the conversation without thinking of the way his skin was brushing against yours. 

To both of your surprise, it’s you who makes the first move. It’d be a bold move on your part, but in reality, the teasing had just gotten too much for you to bear. you couldn’t go on like this anymore, your heart thumping wildly at having him brush against you lightly, having his breath tickle your ear whenever to confide in you what he thought of your outfit today. It was really the little things that had your chest feeling like it was about to burst, you couldn’t do it anymore.

He watches you stumble over yourself as you try to get out how you like him, wringing your hands together in an attempt to channel the panic thrumming through your mind. He’s patient, waiting for you to say what you need to say before taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to kiss you, sealing the deal before you can go back on your confession. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and you melt, making him smile as he slips his tongue past your eager lips.

Being with him doesn’t make him any less teasing though, if anything, it just makes him more intense. he’s meaner, more teasing, his hands growing more brazen in their attempts to rile you up. 

He’ll rest his head on the junction of your neck and shoulders, murmuring in your ear about how good you look as his hands go to hold your waist. He’ll toy with your clothing when you’re out with your friends, pulling you against his side and continuing on with the conversation as you try to keep yourself from molding into his warmth. You both know he’s doing it on purpose, know he likes seeing you cave into him, and as much as you’d want to detest it, he knows you like it too.  And he’s not above using it in the bedroom, not above taking advantage of the way you’re so willing to please him no matter how embarrassed you were about it.

He loves seeing your eyes when he’s fucking you, loves the way it’s in your most ruined state that he gets to see just how much you admired him, how much you worshipped him.

He holds your cheeks to keep your eyes on him when he’s fucking you in missionary, watching as they look up at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky. he almost laughs at you, close to calling your devotion pathetic.

He has you on your knees in front of a mirror as he gives you backshots, watching your face contort at each calculated thrust of his hips as his tip hits just right against your sweet spot. He holds your face up by the neck, applying just the right amount of pleasure to make you dizzy. He tells you to keep eye contact with him as he wrecks you.

You watch him in the mirror as he uses his free hand to pull your hips back against him with each thrust, your whines growing in volume. He has you absolutely cock-drunk, going cross-eyed and shuddering violently as you cum around him with a loud cry. 

You catch your breath together once everything has subsided, his cock still sheathed within you as you both pant like dogs. He brushes his lips against your cheek and sighs, wrapping his arms around your torso. 

“Ya’d do anythin’ f’me, wouldn’ ya?” He asks, turning your head with a gentle grip on your chin, moving you to face him. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know, anything.

a/n: 🫧anon IM SO SORRY I DELETED UR ASK MY BADD AGHHGSHDSH HOPE U LIKED IT THO😭😭 ๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou

[aria0fgold]

With a glass body

You bear the weight of the world

Praying for safety

[lemoncupcake]

(available as stickers on redbubble)

[yumedoca]

About time I posted my work for my own challenge, so here it is: my art for the 'Urusei Yatsura DTIYS challenge'!! 💗

[vendettaspretentious-p]

The Righteous Man with the staring problem

Talk, Hozier // 4x01: Lazarus Rising // 5x18: Point of No Return // 6x20: The Man Who Would Be King // 7x23: Survival of the Fittest // 8x17: Goodbye Stranger

Hoziernatural 3/?

[jennicatzies]

Assorted doodles of father Paul 🤲🤲

Watched Midnight Mass. Sobs

[gargyshmub]

this kinda like Goblete Grotto

phillip from that One Game as a warmup (i want to do a full space funeral like, fan poster, so stay posted tumbleheads)

[knight-of-aether]

Just in time for Revenge of the Sixth, here's my first finished SWTOR art piece, featuring my longsuffering Jedi Knight and Sith Warrior, the best of foils and worst of nemeses.⚡️

[zukkaoru]

i think. everyone should stop reading my most popular fics that aren't really that good and start reading the ones with 18 kudos that are significantly better

[clowningaroundmars]

miles g fic first draft is DONE. 30k words in case y'all wanted to know 😪

all i have to do now is just edit it andddd uh hopefully its up on ao3 before long!! :)

[lotte-s-web]

❝relax ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader, inspo taken from @eyesxxyou's oral fixation

₊˚⭑ warnings: throatfucking with fingers, hobie's fingers in your mouth, mild choking (?), drooling, saliva, implied oral sex (m receiving)

You were stressed. The bright light of your laptop illuminated your face with a ghostly glow as the PDF your professor posted burned its way into your cornea. You were supposed to be hanging out with Hobie, but the workload your school had dumped on the students this semester seemed determined to suck all the joy out of your life and take up most if not all of your time. 

Bad as it was already, it got worse when you purposefully ignored it, a feeling of impending doom always hanging over your mind and tainting any attempts to enjoy yourself and unwind. Hell, it was so bad that Hobie, who was always eager to pull you away from work and hang out, had reluctantly let you go back to your laptop after noticing your eyes warrily flit back to the device too many times during a conversation.

In fairness, you’d tried to resist, to tell him that you’d be fine, you didn’t have that much to do, but he’d just raised an eyebrow and pointed out the way your hands were anxiously scratching at themselves, itching to get something done. He’d just laid back and told you that if you were really that stressed because of his presence that he’d let you work so you could get it off your mind. No pressure.

And that’s how you ended up here, sat on your bed with eyes boring into your screen while your hand moved between restlessly gripping at your hair and scribbling down on your notebook any keywords and ideas that came to mind. Your mind felt blocked, too stuffed with stress to think and it was pissing you off how whatever the file was saying seemed to slip out of your mind, escaping like sand between your fingers.

Hobie sat across from you, feet kicked up on your desk, watching as your brows furrowed and your jaw clenched, one hand tangled in your hair while the other tapped your pen against your laptop restlessly. Your teeth were grinding against each other, brows creasing in frustration and concentration as you tried to extract any information at all from the document, your hand clenching around your hair and pen in irritation.

He frowns, taking his feet off your desk to swivel around and set them on the floor, facing you. You don’t budge, still clenching everything so tightly. He sighs and gets up, walking over to stand in front of you. 

That gets your attention, your hands loosening their grip and your body relaxing ever so slightly as the disdainful look in your eyes disappears the moment they set on his face above you, replaced with mild confusion at his frown. Hobie’s eyes soften as they zero in on your jaw; it’s still clenched.

“Hobes? You need something?” You ask, tilting the screen of your laptop downward to show you were paying attention to him, setting down your pen on top of your notebook. You don’t expect it when his hand reaches out to hold your jaw, his thumb brushing the line where it meets your chin. His other hand goes to shut your laptop closed; you pay it no mind. Your eyes flutter at his touch, your body melting just a bit more into the warmth of his palm. 

He tilts your head up and leans down to press a kiss to your lips, slipping his thumb between the seal he’s created to press down on your lower lip and pull your loosened lips apart ever so slightly. He pulls away, gazed settled on the way your jaw was still tense. His brows furrow, his thumb dragging over your soft lower lip. 

“Love, y’gotta relax,” he chides softly, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You don’t resist, parting your teeth to let his thumb hook into your jaw and pry it open. “Y’re g’na get a migraine if ya keep bein’ tense like tha’.” 

He sighs when you just continue to look up at him, eyes shining dumbly with the desire to please. His other hand then settles on the back of your neck, making you shiver, before it travels up to tangle itself in the hair at the back of your head.

“Loosen up, dove,” he murmurs at you, “let me help ya.” He gently pulls your head back as you whine at the touch defiantly, voice betraying the way your body seemed so eager to follow him. His voice vibrates through your chest as he hums approvingly, your jaw unlocking to let his hands move you to their will. Your eyes are wide open and settled on him, eager for his validation. 

He keeps you like that, staring intensely into the cavern of your mouth as he watches drool collect behind your tongue, threatening to overflow and drip out of your lips and down your chin. You whine as your jaw and mouth grow tired, bringing your tongue beneath the rough pad of his thumb to lick over it as drool starts to leak out the corner of your lips.

He chuckles at that, shaking his head as he removes his hand from your hair to hold at your neck, keeping you stable as he takes his other hand away from your mouth. He coos at you, bringing his hand back to your mouth to tap slender fingers on the wet muscle of your tongue, making you moan as he starts to slide them deeper into your throat. 

You gag as the long digits curl into the soft flesh within it, hands coming up to grab at his wrist in an attempt to pull him back and make him go slower. Then the hand around your neck tightens just a bit and you moan, reluctantly removing your hands from his wrist and keeping them to yourself. 

“Y’can take i’,” he encourages, starting to slide his fingers across your tongue and down your throat, training your gag reflex to retract at the intrusion of his hand, “be good, love.” He smiles at you as you nod, growing compliant under the influence of the long digits making space for themselves within the soft walls of your throat. He fucks your mouth at a steady rhythm, soaking in the soft sounds of your compliant pleasure in taking just his digits. 

The longer your mouth stays agape, the more drool collects on your tongue, coating his fingers and your own chin in a wet, glistening sheen. You moan as your gag reflex subsides, throat tightening around the soaked digits at every dip into the soft pocket. The sound of soft, wet squelching and your small sounds of pleasure fill the room as Hobie stays silent, watching, observing the effect he has on you. You look up at him, eager, hoping, desperate for more than just his fingers.

Lust darkens his gaze as he notices your hunger, his fingers stilling within your throat before retracting completely, leaving your chin and lap wet with your own saliva. He takes a look at his digits, staring at the sheen you’ve left at them as he parts them, watching as a single string of saliva connects them all.

You stay like that for a moment, staring at each other intently as you wait for one or the other to make a move. It’s he who moves first, taking his other hand away from your neck to caress your cheek tenderly. “Eager, aren’t ya?” He asks softly, smiling down at you as you melt into his hand. So pretty, he thinks, sighing softly at the hungry look in your eyes, so obedient. 

“Ya still feel li' bein’ good f’me?” He asks, his other hand moving to his belt. Your breath hitches and you turn your head to move your face into his palm, keeping eye contact with him as you press a wet kiss into his wrist, telling him everything he needs to know.

His grin grows, his hand moving to hold your hair firmly and keep you in place as he undoes the buckle of his belt and the zip of his jeans. You sigh into his hand as your eyes settle on the motion, his hand moving yet again to brush over your lip and tilt your head up so your eyes can meet. He parts your lips, leaning down to kiss them softly before pulling away to press his tip at the seam of them.

“Then stay still f’me, doll. 've got a good use fo’ tha’ pretty li’l mouth o’ yours.”

You close your eyes, and comply.

๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou

[ifindus]

Kaptein Sabeltann and all the antagonists!

[seaweedstarshine]

Drew a cover pic that goes with an angsty elevenmissy fic set before The Snowmen (full content warnings in the ao3 tags)!

[ningtual]

oh i'm gonna be so annoying about this album..... i even took notes while listening to this just now...

[sysig]

Red Eyes and Evil Time, practically the same thing right (Patreon)

[lullaebies]

Prompt (to cheer you up 💖💚)

Maelor is an artist like his mom (my headcannon is that she sketches all bugs in her big book of bugs).

Anyways, aegon was late to rise one morning so Maelor scribbles a moustache on his face (he had shaved it off the previous day and Maelor didn't like it) and aegon didn't wash his face that morning and wonders why everyone stares at him.

awww!! no worries angst is my shit i love writing it and crying about it but i appreciate this very much!

The blinks across the tables are disconcerting.

He has come to break his fast late, he is aware, by both the empty plates across the table and the stares shot at him from those all around him. He heard some giggles when he walked the hallways, but now even Mother stares at him brazenly, looking like she had just seen some ghost. "Is there something on my face?"

"Well..." Helaena trails off, her violets finally leaving his face as she looks down at her plate, lining her lips together as if preventing words from escaping.

"You have... a moustache," Aemond says aloud. Aegon lifts his eyebrows and twists his lips at that. Maelor giggles loudly at that, clapping his small hands, while the twins hold puffs of laughter in their own chubby cheeks. "I shaved it yesterday, you twat," he tells him in annoyance. There is no way it grew back so soon; he has been lucky to have his moustache grow within a patient month beforehand. "It's not a matter of shaving, certainly." Aemond retorts, slicing his food. Aegon takes up in his hand a silver, reflective cup that stood on the table, and brings it by his face to see. There is a splotch of ink spread above his cupid's bow, the dark color contrasting in a way so disgustingly ugly that he can't help but frown at it. "What is this?!" he asks. He didn't even touch a pen yesterday, how did this happen. He narrows his eyes as he looks all around the table. "Which one of you did this?" He looks at Helaena, for but a moment; she dabbles in her ink, but she looks quite innocent today. Before long, however, the culprit is revealed. By his own choice, too. Maelor lifts up his hand high, proud as can be. Aegon looks at his three-year-old dead in the eye, as he beams at him. He can't even bring himself to be mad; the boy seems far too happy to rain on his parade. The rest of the table falls into chuckles, and then hears Helaena's mumble. "He always did like your moustache."

Seven hells. Aegon comes by the boy, and holds him up. "Don't do that," he tells him. Maelor tries to reach his little drawing; even as he touches it, it does not quite feel the same, and it's apparent on his face. "But..." Maelor says, as he always does; his first word seemed to be but, both curious and defiant. Now, it's in request.

Aegon sighs, and brings him against his chest. "I'll grow it back," he says. "Promise." Maelor giggles cheerily at that. "I wonder if it'll wash off," Helaena says then. "We only had long-lasting ink in our rooms.." Seven hells!