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fmhiphop · 1 year

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A Fed Up Lizzo: Restricts Her Twitter Account and Threatens To Quit Music

Being in the spotlight isn’t easy; it comes with extreme highs and lows, as mega performer Lizzo recently exhibited. Merely a day ago, a frustrated and enraged Lizzo restricted her Twitter account and expressed the possibility of quitting music altogether. What was the reason behind it all? A very old ugly issue that continues to rear its nasty head. The Source of Lizzo’s Frustration A very insensitive tweet sent the “Special" artist into a tailspin. According to a recent article, Lizzo was extremely irritated after an insensitive tweeter had something to say about her weight. The poster inquired why the artist remained overweight despite her vigorous onstage activity. https://twitter.com/LayahHeilpern/status/1663204629230895106?s=20 While Lizzo has waded through a barrage of hateful comments in the past, this one was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. The source notes the artist’s response, read as thus: “I’m tired of explaining myself all the time, and I just wanna get on this app w/out seeing my name in some b#######.” The entire comment section was relentless, with no let-up. And respectfully, Lizzo was done. Given the timbre of the message and the lack of civility in how the public addresses Lizzo, no one can blame her for the outrage. The Same Old Song This is not the first time Lizzo has had to go toe to toe with negative nellies. Repeatedly, she has expressed her discontent with how people approach her. This time Lizzo did not leave it at an address to the initial commenter. She went even further to express her deepest sentiments for those who believe her weight is a promotional gimmick. Lizzo let the waiting public have it. In her words, “BEING FAT ISNT MY ‘BRAND’; BEING FAT IS WHAT MY BODY LOOKS THAT. THATS IT. THATS ALL. My ‘brand’ is FEEL GOOD MUSIC, It is CHAMPIONING ALL PEOPLE. My ‘brand’ is BLACK GIRL LIBERATION. https://twitter.com/Esther_Knowles_/status/1663977910900801543?s=20 The fact any logical individual would think this wasn't the case is ludicrous. Lizzo, Please Don’t Go Lizzo has been an inspiration to many. Her talent is astounding, and she exhibits a confidence that many young girls only wish they could have. The singer's success is refreshing in an industry where image appears to be everything. It is increasingly sad how the public cannot move past its fixation on external things as opposed to the gifts these courageous people bring to the world. While Lizzo has presented with thick skin, it’s not hard to see how ignoring personal attacks takes a toll. And this time, it took her to another place. The insults even led to the mention of the possibility of leaving the thing she loves, music. As the “Good as Hell” artist went on to say, I HATE IT HERE. The Love definitely does not outweigh the Hate on social media… all because I’m fat????” she stated. “Y’all don’t know how close I be to giving up on everyone and quitting and enjoying my money and my man on a F###### FARM. In Finality Life is hard. And it's undeniable the world would be much better if those who had nothing nice to say would simply say nothing. But unfortunately, that is not the way people move. And negativity is predominantly the choice selection of the day. So here is to hoping Lizzo can tune out the negative noise and target the positive. Her gift is much too brilliant to be shelved because of the uncivilized way people offer their unsolicited opinions. Lizzo is an inspiration, and at the end of the day, the package is inconsequential compared to all the beauty exuded from the inside. Lizzo is truly "Special" https://youtu.be/0ujjiNBQnmI Written By: Renae Richardson Read the full article

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emile-hides · 3 years

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H*lding H*nds Imagines

I am once again making content for me and me alone because I have an unhealthy obsession for BNHA blond boys

BNHA Blond Boys X GN!Reader h*nd h*lding moments

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Twice, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

Knuckle brush

You handed him things before

Stacks of papers to grade, coffee after a long day, a napkin when he goes into a coughing fit

But something about this time turns his face a deep red

He withdrew quickly, in a jerking manner that dragged more attention than you’re sure he meant it to

He cleared this throat and thanked you quietly before shuffling off

It took a few moments to really set on you

You’d made contact

Such little contact you’d barely even felt it

He was cold, his skin rough and calloused, wrinkled and dry

How you managed to notice so much with such brief contact is astounding

And also incomparable to how much he noticed

He’s thinking about it all day, glancing at where the contact was made, shuffling, flushing to himself, holding his knuckles to his lips

Do it on purpose next time you hand him a stack of papers and he’ll drop them

Present Mic

In a crowd

It’s LOUD

You and Hizashi are trying to get home after a live show

The crowd is huge and still hyped from the concert

The quarters are tight, the space is limited, and without his towering hair spike it’s hard to keep track of your loud blond

Eventually a strong clasp from a hand horribly decorated in rings, fingerless gloves, and black nail polish claps on your wrist as your continued to be pulled though a crowd

When the world finally starts to calm and you have room to breath his hand slides to connect to your palm

Fingers intertwine with yours as a series of “Y’all good?”s start, followed quickly by an excited narration of the chaos that just ensued

He’d taken your hand so causally you barely even noticed

The two of you walked in a much calmer crowd, hand in hand, as Hizashi randomly picked bystanders out of his vocal range and made up their life stories to tell you

Fatgum

Big hands

You laid idly on the couch in Fatgum’s office, the interns long sense gone home

A pile of paperwork blocked your view of your hard working hero as he sat at his desk

You slumped and slid off the couch, boredom rising as you phone lie dead on the table nearby

A loud groan drives a “Just a bit longer, gumdrop” from behind the piles of unfinished work, a bit longer could be years for all you cared

Sliding across the hardwood floor on your back, you found yourself beside Taishiro’s desk, looking up at him from an angle you were rather use to

He was focused, with a smile still on his face as he worked, writing with one hand, the other causually turning Takoyaki in the grill built into his desk

You sat up, watching quietly. He was typically pretty observant, but he may not yet have noticed your approach

When his hand stopped turning and released, you took your chance

Both your hands snatched his wrist, sitting up a bit to rest yourself on his lap, you examined his large palm

He chuckled, “What’cha doin’, cupcake?”

His hand was massive in your own, enough to make anyone feel like a child. It could engulf you, hold half your torso and still have a pinkie to spare

You pressed on his palm, he hummed and returned to work, leaving you to admire as you pleased

His knuckles were scarred, several gashes and scrapes from punching at materials harder than even his fat could handle

Old burns from cooking, white spots on his finger tips from a time before he learned patients

You leaned back on him, holding his hand in your own, and watched him work

He seemed much more blissed from your company

Twice

Not enough hands

Jin’s a very physical person

He hangs off you every chance he can get, coddling and loving on you

He finds it annoying

So it’s not surprise as you two settled down for a movie night he was instantly on your lap like a cat

He lays over you like a blanket, limbs tangled every which way, head on your chest, looking at you more than the movie

One of your hands lay idly by your head, that one he has his own over, fingers tangled messily, almost uncomfortably

His other arm trapped under you, a hug from below, resting also uncomfortably against your spine

Leaving your free hand to tangle in his hair, a rare sight to have his mask off, though it probably wouldn’t last the whole movie, it should be cherished until then

When you notice his staring at you more than the screen, you choose to join him

You slide your hand from his hair to his cheek, he leans into it with the most lovestruck puppydog look a man his age could muster

He then starts to fidget around, moving like he’s stuck

It doesn’t take long from there for him to start getting frustrated with himself, splitting an argument for two between just him

You gently lift his head to regain eye contact and ask what’s wrong

He nearly starts crying

“I want to hold your cheek too but I don’t have enough hands!!”

He’s not willing to remove your hand from his hold or pull his other arm out from under you to compromise his own needs

He does eventually start crying over his lack of extra limbs to love you with

Aoyama

Standing ovation

Roaring applause rippled thought the auditorium

It wasn’t a big show, or a big stage, but it was your first written play, and seeing it go over so well was enough to bring a tear to your eyes

You joined the audience in standing to applause as the actors took the stage for the final bow

Only the lead, your star, wasn’t there with them

You blinked once, twice, three times before panic set in

There’s no way Yuga Aoyama would miss the chance to stand center stage in a spotlight. If he wasn’t on stage something must have happened

You tried your best not to look around too fervently, not wanting to startle anyone else

When a hand clasped yours

“And let’s not forget the playwright~✨”

Before you could question how he said that with his mouth, you were dragged onto the stage by your previously mentioned star, with his own mic in hand you don’t remember giving him

He held your arm up above his head as he runway walked his way along the stage, you closely in toe

You were going to go on stage eventually but you’d planned to be a lot more quiet about it, when more people had left early not wanting to sit though the applause

But instead, here you were, center stage, hand held high like you’d just won a boxing match by your own and only Aoyama

How he could stand being this bright all the time way beyond you

For now though, it was rather nice

Ojiro

Lost and found

You stepped out of your class stretching, ready for a well deserved lunch break when you heard your classmates muttering

“Isn’t he from the hero course?”

“What’s he doing?”

Being nosy wasn’t usually your strong suit, but the mutterings has peaked your interest

You followed the eyes of those speaking to find a blond boy sitting in the floor of the hall, knees pulled to his chest to keep his legs from disrupting the flow of traffic, with his tail resting over his feet to protect them from being stepped on

He smiled and gave a light wave to your class as the dispersed

You alone approached him, curiosity peaking. Why was he sitting out here in the hall?

When question he very sheepishly answered, “I, uh.. I got lost on my way to class”

There was several things wrong with that

Number one being, he’d been at this school half a year now. He has one classroom, a big classroom, in the hero course. It’s not easy to miss??

Number two, it was noon. Lunchtime. He has one classroom. How long had he been lost???

These questions had answers and he was, while slightly embarrassed, happy to share he had, in fact, been lost all morning. Not just in finding his class, but also in finding the exit to the building, any teachers he knew, or his phone to call for help

You began to feel sorry for the guy, as this seemed to be a common occurrence in his daily life

With a sigh, you offered your hand to help him up

It was lunch, for all courses, so surely he’d see his hero course classmates in the cafeteria. No one turns up Lunchrush’s food after all

He smiled and took your hand, lifting himself from the floor with a thankyou

“I’m Ojiro, by the way. You are...?”

He was rather polite to talk to the entire walk, his grip on your hand was soft, gentle, and his smile never seemed to waver

Kaminari

Swing yer partner round and round

“Oh this is my JAM!”

Mina excitedly turned up your shitty little radio before kicking herself up off the floor, grabbing Sero all in one quick motion

The two danced horribly off beat, you quickly guess Mina had never heard this song before in her life, just wanted to get moving

“Come on you two, it’s dance break time!”

You found yourself enraptured with her energy, already forgetting the homework you all were doing

Kaminari took your hand much like how Mina took Sero’s and began to dance just as off beat and spuratic as queen pinkie had

You laughed, stumbling with every step, same as the others, the giggling energy filling a previously silent room

Denki’s fingers dug into your knuckles as he smirked, suddenly spinning on his heel and dragging you with him

The two of you became a tornado in your tiny dorm room, barely keeping from knocking into your tea table as you spun like a couple of children

You could hear Mina cheer and laugh, a brief glanced told you Sero was recording this silly moment

You looked across the way at your dance partner

Spinning, laughing his head off like this was the most fun he’d ever had, eyes closed, caring not for his surroundings

You decided to let go

The momentum sent you both toppling, you safely into Mina, who was more then ready to catch you

Denki got the much less desirable aforementioned tea table, which sent him toppling backwards over the also aforementioned homework

If you all could have laughed any louder, you would

Bakugo

Sweaty hands

You always knew when Bakugo was going to hold your hand

He may think he’s smooth, wiping his hand on the pocket of his pants before reaching behind himself to grab at you

But you’d always notice

It was a good indicator you were walking too slow for his liking, or the area up ahead was crowed, or that he simply felt you were too far away

You couldn’t initiate holding hands, when he didn’t actively want to be in contact he’d keep his hands shoved deep in his pockets

So you just had to wait for him to wipe himself off and reach for you

You were free to wrap yourself around his arm whenever, though

He’ll look pissed, but won’t say a word

And if you move away, he’ll wipe his hand on his pants, and offer it to you, a silent plea for you to come back

Honenuki

Magic hands

You stretched out over the couch of the 1-B common room with a whine, the rest of your class in a similar state

Training was hell today, sparing with class 1-A was never a joke, and with Monoma egging the whole game up to be more than it should have been, it all just escalated to a point you all wish it hadn’t

“Alright, next.”

Honenuki, a godsend, your blessed angel, helped Tsuburaba off the second common room couch, his typically wide eyes closed and relaxed as he wobbled his way across the room

You happily took his place, stretching out on your stomach before your classmate with the magic powers of massage

His hands pressed into your back and you instantly relaxed, letting out a low hum as you snuggled the pillow under your chin

Honenuki returned your hum, his hands pressing into all your tenses spots, almost instantly releasing them from their knots

You’d probably have fallen asleep, if it wasn’t over so fast

He had the entire class to get though after all, though he hated to rush an art form

You took his hand as he helped you stand, the actual minute of his touch enough to wobble your legs

Kissing his knuckle and thanking him for sharing his magic, you found yourself plopped peacefully on the couch beside Tsuburaba

Honenuki chuckled at you as he called next, happy to be of service

Monoma

He’s showing off

You’d known for a while now Monoma didn’t know how to shut the fuck up

He’d brag about anything, over anyone, to everyone

He’d always loudly bragged about how much better his class was, how much stronger his friendships were, how absolutely amazing his partner was

You being said partner didn’t make said bragging less annoying

The two of you had been together less than an hour and he was already boasting about your perfection to all who would hear

Some genuine, loving, almost gaggingly sweet comments

Others just to rub it in the face of class 1-A as much as possible

A week into this relationship and people were starting to think you must be come kind of god with how Monoma spoke about you

You’d been on two dates with the guy

Now here you were, holding his hand on the walk to class, and regretting every step

As every single person who passed must take note of the fact you were holding his hand

And also must be aware how blessed he is to be holding your hand in return

And really you started to understand the concerned look Kendo gave you when you told her you’d agreed to date Neito Monoma

Still his words were genuine, no matter how they came across, and he truly had a million and one things to say about you

So you could hold though the embarrassment his overexcited bragging may cause

He just wants to show you off

Mirio

Quietly

You sat by his bed side, holding gently to his limp hand

Moments ago he was inconsolable, crying and screaming his lungs out

His quirk gone

His teacher gone

Everything he worked so hard for seemed to vanish in an instant

His grip, still so strong, had left your hand bruised, circulation cut off

It wasn’t a concern you really had

Sleeping, his pain was still so obvious

Bags under his eyes, dried streaks of tears still down his keeps

And your hand still tightly gripped in his

What would happen next, where he would go, who you all would become

They were all problems for the future

Tomorrow you could work on a solution

Tonight, you could hold his hand

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anglaland · 5 years

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T-Cups

Fandom: Hetalia Relationship: USUK (fem!England/America) Rating: N / S / F / W Word Count: 2575 Summary:

America has a gag gift for England. Domestic fluff, crack. Based off of this post:

AO3/FFN links are the most recent post on my blog if you prefer reading on those platforms.

England is sitting in America’s living room, predictably curled up with a post-supper cup of tea, when America rounds the corner. Soft, yellow light, bathes the room, easy on the eyes for a quiet evening. It softens her face and sinks into her hair, lulling him into a sense of domesticity. As he steps forward, England catches his movement. At first, she only gives him the barest of assessments, before a familiar furrow finds itself between her eyebrows. “Bringing in the post this late?” she asks, mug halfway to her lips.

America grins. “Nah, I’ve had this one waiting for a while.” He crosses the living room in two long strides before plopping down ungracefully next to England (who reflexively leans forward, holding her tea carefully out of reach). In between them is a simple gift-wrapped box.

Nothing is ever simple with America.

Setting her tea down (away from America), England shifts on the couch, turning to face her gifter. “Do I even want to know what this is about?” she grouses, but her fingers trace the edges of the lid with carefully restrained excitement.

“What,” America says, leaning back with mock affront, hand placed over his heart, “a guy can’t buy a gift for the gal he likes? And you say romance is dead, England.” She scoffs at his melodrama, but America is already shaking his head, committed to the routine. “I thought you, of all people, would appreciate a little sentiment...but if you’re really against it…”

“Alright, enough with the theatrics!” she cuts in, yet there’s a smile playing on her lips. “You really ought to work on your guilt-tripping, it’s absolutely awful.”

Laughing, America pushes the box closer to her. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I suppose it did,” England concedes. She looks up at America through her eyelashes, and America is suddenly aware of the closeness between them. If it wasn’t for what was in the box, he might have leaned in to steal a kiss. “Thank you, really,” she says. “I do appreciate it.”

America returns the smile, and hopes it looks equally melting and not at all conniving. “I’m glad. When I first saw this, I knew I had to get it for you.”

He nudges the box even closer, and, poker face in place, watches as England lifts up the cover of the box...and stares.

Inside is a single bra.

America observes, with glee, as her face transforms from fondness to confusion.

The cups of the bra have tea cups jutting out of them.

“Wha—” she begins to say, before realization dawns across her face, abruptly blanking her features.

She looks at America. Back to the box. Back to America, whose face is now in an ear-splitting grin, and who is shaking from restrained laughter.

“I should have known better,” she mutters, halfway standing up off the sofa. America jumps up to cut her off from leaving the room, finally succumbing to howling peals of laughter as he pushes her back down on the couch. “Ugh—get off,” she grunts, but America is shaking too hard from his mirth to listen properly.

“It’s just—ain’t it—isn’t it great?!” America chokes out, gesturing to the box. “It’s perfect for you. C’mon, you’ve got to wear it,”

“Hilarious. Your sense of humor continues to astound me,” England deadpans. “...did you really buy a brassiere with tea cups attached? Where on earth did you even find such a thing?”

Seeing that England has transitioned from denial to acceptance, America lifts the teacup bra out of the box, pushing the container away so he can sit. “It’s a long story,” he handwaves away. “But onto the more important issue—England, it’s pretty much your national duty to wear it.”

“Absolutely not,” says England. “You know, just because I drink tea doesn’t mean that I’m obsessed with it!”

America stares at her. “You literally went to warover tea. You drink multiple cups every single day. Hell, you and China even set up tea stations in meeting rooms because breaks aren’t enough for y’all. You’re drinking tea right now!”

“That’s just a coincidence,” she insists. “I suppose to someone like you, who can’t appreciate the appeal of a proper cuppa—”

“—there isn’t any, by the way—”

“—it might come off as obsession, but really, there is nothing unreasonable about it.”

America disagrees, but the conversation is getting away from his real purpose: seeing England half naked in this bra. Never let anyone say America couldn’t prioritize when he really needed to. “So it isn’t completely unreasonable,” he lies through his teeth. “But—”

England is crossing her arms and settling back on the sofa, fully prepared to continue being stubborn. Fuck it, he isn’t above begging at this point. “...alright,” he says, affecting a defeated tone. “If you’re really against it, I won’t push.”

England is squinting at him, obviously in disbelief. America dramatically slows his movements and turns to stuff the bra back into the box, letting the teacups obnoxiously clink against each other. “It’s just a gag gift, anyway. Thought it be funny ya know, but I know British humor is like advanced, or whatever, so guess it isn’t…”

An arm reaches around him to snatch the box out of his hands. “I’ll wear it,” England huffs. “Just this once. And I thought I told you to cease the theatrics.”

America beams, and doesn’t mention that it’s worked twice now. “Aw, England, you’re the best!” He grins, and leans in quickly to peck at her lips. Red splotches appear on her cheeks, and she looks away in pretend annoyance, but he can see her suppress the curves of a smile.

“Well, turn around, at the very least,” she demands with mock modesty (as if last night never occurred…), and America is in a good enough mood that he obliges.

He can hear the clinking of the cups as she puzzles out how to wear the garment. Finally, she announces that he can turn back around.

“Ta da,” England says, waving her hands with mock pizzazz.

It’s...it’s better than expected.

The overall look is surprisingly attractive. The cups jut out, affecting a busty illusion, but oddly seem to accentuate the roundness of her breasts. Covered in the soft glow of the lamp, hair down and loose over her shoulders, America is distracted for a brief second.

England raises an expectant eyebrow. “Does it match your expectations?”

“Oh yeah, it’s great,” America says in a faraway voice. He reaches out to hook his fingers through the handles of the teacups, fitting his hands over the curve of her breasts. He tugs downwards, and England winces as the straps dig into her shoulders.

After a moment, America says, “You gotta admit, it is pretty funny though.”

England eyes America. “...there’s some humor in it.”

“And you look pretty fucking hot wearing it.”

She swats him lightly over the head. “Git,” she mutters, but lets him kiss her again anyway. If America had any chaste intentions to begin with, they disappear quickly as his mouth opens wider and he kisses England with more insistence.

She pauses –– as if to consider –– before accepting his overeagerness (but not giving in, of course. Not England.) Grinning against her, he pulls her onto his lap, letting her lean above him, cup his face in her hands, press down from her vantage point. It’s a position America himself prefers (and they were cut from the same branch, were they not?), but this evening, now, he reclines into the back of the sofa, letting England curve over him.

Well, all right. He’s not entirely innocent in his decision, and England is well aware, pulling back from a kiss and fixing America with an all-too-well-knowing gaze. It’s mixed parts fondness and exasperation. America abandons the skirt zipper he was fiddling with to shamelessly cup her breasts again, thumbs scooped into the tea cup handles.

“You have the look of a fat child who’s eaten far too much chocolate,” Enlgland announces, rocking her hips against America’s hardening cock in punctuation. She intends some rise out of him, looking far too much like a cat with cream still on her tongue.

“As long as it’s your chocolate, right?” he says, pulling England up a little so he can slide skirt and panties off. To his luck, she wasn’t wearing her garters today (although another day...maybe, maybe). “You are always telling me that yours has the real sugar, sugar.” He obnoxiously winks at her, flashing her his trademark Hollywood smile as she shimmies out of her skirt.

England rewards him with a dead stare, but the twitch of her lips inwards betray her. America lifts up his eyebrows and laughs as she instead forcibly curls her mouth into a scowl, relieving him of his own clothes in the meantime. “If only you would be so sickeningly sweet to me when you didn’t want something,” England complains.

America says nothing out loud to that, instead brazenly running his hands top down until they slide in between England’s thighs. England sighs, America’s fingers trailing across her folds, thumb occasionally brushing her clit. Her hands tighten painfully on his shoulders as America teases her slit and teases moans out of her.

But America isn’t all too patient of a man, especially not with a nearly naked England on top of him. He pushes one finger in, then another, lazily pumping them in and out of her. His other hand holds her up, stopping England from breaking his wrist as she desperately grinds down onto his fingers inside of her. If there is anyone who outstrips him in patience, it’s England. Hair loosely strewn across her shoulders, her eyes struggling to remain open, it takes considerable self control not to impale her on his cock right away.

In the end, it’s the fucking T-cups that do it, porcelain cupping porcelain breasts that shudder along with its owner. America can’t help his own haggard breaths that escape him as he removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips to obscenely clean them off. He matches England’s gaze and hears her choked sob, her own fingers searching for his cock. “Hold on now, he murmurs.

He strokes himself to full hardness instantly enough, and England leans back with his direction. They breathe out in tandem as America sinks his cock into her.

England, shifts, accommodating his cock at a better angle as she braces her legs on either side of him. The couch she was on wasn’t small, per se (and America knows there is a joke about American sizes waiting, somewhere here), but the position is cramped. England leans back to try and support herself on the armrests, but they are too far apart to provide any sort of grip. “Typical American couches,” England predictably grumbles.

America laughs into her ear. “Relax,” he says cheekily, knowing it will get a rise out of England. He stops her snappy comeback, easily lifting her clean off him to flip her around and press her back against her chest.

Keeping one of her legs lifted up, he fumbles beneath her to find his cock. She slaps his hand off and he hides a grin in her hair, letting go and lifting her up her other leg to bare her to the living room. She grasps his cock at the base and slides her hand slowly up, before pressing his cock back into her.

Concurrent sighs escape them once more. England, ever impatient, begins insistently trying to move, succeeding only in grinding herself down on America’s cock instead. She throws him a cross look.

“Stop teasing me,” she demands. The overall commanding effect is diminished as America looks down and sees how well she takes his cock, how perfectly spread she is around him, and the tea-cups pressing her breasts together for him.

Instead, he says, “whatever my lady wants,” in a horribly posh accent. He doesn’t wait for her response, instead starting to fuck her in ernest. He holds her legs apart as he bounces her on his cock, bucking his hips upwards to match his movements.

England closes her eyes and rests her head back, letting soft moans escape her. America can’t decide where to keep his eyes––on her face as she tries to smother any pleasure, his cock as it slides easily in and out of her sex, or her breasts as they bounce up and down as he rocks her.

The tea cups are also wobbling with the movement, which would be hilarious if it weren’t so fucking hot. America wishes he had a mirror across him in his living room to watch, to see England fucked so well. He’ll settle for his vantage point, where he can look down and see her held apart by him as he thrusts into her.

“Open your eyes,” he tells her.

She does so instinctively. “What now,” she grouses, even as high-pitched moans escape her. America doesn’t answer, only pointedly looking down at the tea cups.

England follows his gaze. “Oh my fucking god,” she mutters. “This was, ah, your plan all along, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” America admits. His head is beginning to feel dizzy, the rush of pleasure getting to him. He picks up the pace, slamming her up and back down on him.

The tea cups begin to clink as he moves faster.

America can’t stop the snort of laughter that escapes him. He buries his head in her shoulder, kissing her neck as he futilely tries to stifle his laughs. “I hate you,” England tries to say, but her words draw out in a moan as America changes his angle and hits her right there.

“Aw, babe, you don’t mean that,” says America.

“Shut up and fuck me,” England responds. One hand reaches up to grip painfully in his hair, as the other comes down to rub at her clit. America lets out an appreciative groan.

“Fuck, England,” he grits out. “I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Come,” she demands, and he does, continuing to thrust through his orgasm. England tightens painfully around him, and he chokes out as a gasp, before the air is filled with sounds of her suppressed moans as she comes as well.

They lay there for a few moments, catching their breath. England opens her eyes and looks up lazily at America. They hold each other’s gaze for a microsecond before breaking into peals of laughter.

“You––you fucking bastard,” England makes out in between gasps for air. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. I can’t believe I did this!” She reaches down to pull America’s softening cock out of her, and then turns around to cuddle up against him (or fall asleep, as she is want to do). The cup handles push into his chest, abruptly aborting her movement. America looks down at the scene wide-eyed, before falling back into howls of laughter once more.

“I’m getting off,” England mock threatens, face completely reddened from laughing. America sucks in much needed air and pulls her close, ignoring the pinch of the tea cups into him. “I love you,” he says, mouth pressing into the curve of her shoulder as he shakes in mirth again. England runs her own fingers through his hair, holding him close.

omake:

“I didn’t go to war over just tea, by the way. It was a complex matter.”

America’s arms tighten around her, cocooning her closer to him. “Less talk, more sleep,” he grumbles.

#aph england #bringbackhetalia2020 #aph america #usuk #fem!england #nyo england #hetalia #hws #usuk fanfic #fanfic #not sfw

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vanillacaramelhoney · 5 years

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Look for Me (9/12)

Pairing(s): Robin Buckley x Reader

Summary: Princess Robin Buckley, since the age of eight, was always seen with another girl- (Y/n) (L/n). They always chose to be together, but when (Y/n) is chosen as one of Robin's personal guards, they're practically tied together. It seems innocent to everyone, but so much more can happen behind closed doors.

Warning(s): None really??

A/N: What are y’all gonna be for Halloween? I plan to go as our lord and saviour, Luigi.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Previous | Next

Out

Going to talk to Billy was probably one of the worst, yet best decisions Robin has ever made.

After Robin took a moment to pack her things (and check several times to see that she got everything), she searched (Y/n) out. They were about to head to Billy's room when Garret decided to tag along at the last second.

Robin wasn't too thrilled by the idea of him tagging along; the last thing she needed was for someone to find out that she was searching for a way out of the marriage.

Still, he came along, and in the end, Robin was glad he did.

Robin's conversation with Billy was short; hell, it didn't even happen.

The three had arrived at his door, stood there for several minutes, then left in shock.

They had branched off, Garret going back to his and (Y/n)'s shared room, while Robin and (Y/n) went to the princess' room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, they let their eyes go wide.

"Damn," (Y/n) squeaked, biting her lip to prevent a smile or laughter through. She let her body rest against the door.

Robin, on the other hand, didn't find the situation quite as funny. She stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in shock.

"Was... I learned that he is quite a flirt, but I did not think...," (Y/n) tried to form a sentence but keeping her laughter back was too difficult.

Robin rubbed the temples of her head, sighing as the shocked expression dropped to a tired one. "Is he not aware that that is improper?" she asked, looking at (Y/n) with desperation in her eyes.

"I think he knows, he just doesn't care," (Y/n) let out with a snort.

"(Y/n)!" Robin whined. "This isn't funny!"

"I mean," (Y/n) laughed. "Are we even allowed to talk about what's improper? I'm a female guard dating the princess- a female."

"God," Robin groaned. "I have to marry him."

And then a lightbulb went off in (Y/n)'s head.

Robin never found herself getting up so early. Her mind was behind, and her eyes kept drooping if she stood still for too long.

(Y/n), however, was used to this. She stood tall and to attention, patiently waiting for Garret to show.

With a playful smirk, (Y/n) watched over her shoulder as Robin failed miserably to stay awake and alert.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to do this so early?" (Y/n) teased. "You can barely stay awake, and yet you want to discuss matters with the king."

"I will be fine," Robin waved her off. "This needs to be done."

"Yes, it does," (Y/n) agreed. "But why so early?"

"I have my reasons."

Footsteps echoed in the halls, grabbing their attention. A glance down the hall revealed Garret heading toward them.

Robin joined (Y/n)'s side.

"You're up awfully early, Robin," Garret greeted as soon as he joined them.

"Well, things need to be done," she repeated to him.

"I am assuming this is about last night," Garret said. Robin nodded. "Very well. I have an idea of what's going to happen, then. Is the king waiting for us?"

(Y/n) nodded. "We should not keep him waiting."

"Of course."

The three started the walk to the end of the hall.

When Robin requested that they talk about a private matter, she got directed to a room at the very end of one of the many halls.

The door was open and inside was Neil, waiting for them with only a couple of guards behind him.

(Y/n) made sure to close the door behind them.

Neil sat on the edge of a small table that sat near the back of the room. His guards stood close behind.

"Morning," he greeted. Robin didn't respond. "What did you need to talk about?"

"The marriage arrangement," Robin answered. Neil raised a brow, urging her to continue. "I refuse to go through with it."

"This is something your father and I have agreed on," Neil said. "You have no choice."

"I'm not marrying your son," Robin insisted.

"Why are you so persist on that?" he asked, standing.

"Your son is sleeping around, and I can only assume that it has been happening for some time now," Robin explained. "If you think I will marry someone that sleeps around, you are wrong."

Neil went red in the face. "How dare you assume these things about my son!" he shouted. "You cannot simply cast around these foolish accusations in hopes to get out of this arrangement!"

"If I went to your son's room and looked inside, can you guarantee that I will not find a girl in there with him?" Robin tested him.

"You will find no girl! My son is not a filthy animal!"

"Then we shall go see." With that, Robin headed out the door, pausing only to tell the shocked group to follow along.

They quickly did as she told them to.

Robin strode through the halls with determination fueling her every step.

(Y/n) had to near sprint to reach Robin's side. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Billy is spoiled in the fact that he gets to wake up when he wants, and it's clear that he takes advantage of that. The short time we have been here, he has never been awake before eleven," Robin explained. "There's a reason I made sure to do this extra early."

The door to Billy's room came into view, and with several more wide steps, Robin was the first to reach it.

With no hesitation, she swung the door open, letting it hit the wall with an astounding bang.

In the bed parallel to the door, two figures shot up. Their wide eyes landed on the group standing at the doorway.

"What the hell is this?!" Neil screamed. He gave no time for an answer, storming off in the direction they came.

Robin quickly followed behind him.

Unsure of what to do, the guards hesitated before following the two.

"Hopefully you understand now," Robin said.

Neil stopped in his place, turning to face her. "This changes nothing! This wedding is still happening!"

"I do not know what you are thinking right now, but it is most certainly the dumbest thing if you cannot understand that I am not marrying someone that sleeps around as he pleases!" Robin finally raised her voice.

Only a few feet to her left, (Y/n) and Garret anxiously stood as they watched the scene unravel. (Y/n) watched them carefully.

There shouting was sure to attract the attention of anyone passing through the nearby halls. The thought of someone looking down and seeing this made (Y/n) oddly nervous.

Her close eye on the two proved helpful when she saw Neil's hand, about to strike.

(Y/n)'s hand reached out to grab Niel's wrist before he could hit Robin. She held him with a harsh grip.

His guards behind him stepped forward out of instinct.

Robin stared at the two, a look of horror on her face. Garret walked to her side and pulled her back a few steps before standing in front of her.

Niel tried to wank his hand away, but (Y/n) was stubborn. "Unhand me, woman!" he shouted. Behind him, the guards readied their swords. "You have no right to stop me!"

(Y/n)'s gaze hardened. "When you are about to hit the princess- the woman I am supposed to be protecting- you are a fool to think that I would not intervene." Her voice was calm, but there was a warning hidden there.

"Keep in mind, any harm that comes to her in your kingdom will not come across well with our king," (Y/n) told him. "He especially would not enjoy hearing that the king we were staying with harmed her." With that, (Y/n) finally allowed him to pull his arm away.

Niel stepped away, glaring, but he waved the guards off.

They put their swords away.

(Y/n) walked to Robin. "Are you okay?" Robin nodded, much more composed.

Robin looked past (Y/n) at Niel. "I think you have made yourself clear," Robin remarked. "We are leaving." She turned and left, the two guards hot on her heels.

The three could feel Neil's gaze burning into them.

"After that, there certainly should be no affiliation with him from your father's side," Garret muttered.

"I just cannot believe he tried that," (Y/n) shook her head.

"You don't think he is like that to anyone else, do you?" Robin asked.

"He better not," (Y/n) said.

"If he does, I hope he pays for his actions," Garret said. "My god. I have heard stories that he could be rude, but that was so much more than being rude."

"(Y/n), can you wake the others up?" Robin asked, receiving a nod. "I want to see if we can get the carriage ready earlier."

"Any idea where she went?" George stepped away from the carriage and placed his hands on his hips.

He shook his head. "No," he responded to Robin, who stood off to the side. "Damn girl woke us up early and was dragged off by a maid. Said she'd be right back."

Robin glanced over everyone.

Garret was fine, but the other guards were grumpy about how early they had been woken up.

They would have been on their way home over an hour ago if it weren't for (Y/n)'s unexplained absence.

"Does anyone know where she is?" Robin asked all of them.

Tyler opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of rushing footsteps and a voice calling, "Right here!"

They all looked behind them to see (Y/n) jogging over to them.

"Kid, where the hell have you been?" George asked.

(Y/n) smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologized. She turned to Robin and waved a rolled parchment back and forth. "Neil gave me this- said it was for your father."

"That's all?" Robin asked. "Why did you take so long, then?"

(Y/n) laughed. "That's my fault. I got lost."

George rolled his eyes but laughed. "Way to go." The girl playfully glared at him.

"I'm guessing everyone is ready to leave then?" (Y/n) asked as George walked back to the carriage.

Robin nodded. "Any idea what that is about?" she pointed to the slip.

"Well, legally speaking," (Y/n) said, "I have no idea, but..." Robin raised a brow.

"It may or may not be a letter to your father calling off the marriage due to 'issues with my son that shall remain unnamed,'" (Y/n) quoted.

"Oh, now that is gold," Robin snickered, earning a chuckle from (Y/n).

"Come on, let's get home."

#stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #robin buckley #stranger things robin #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #look for me

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fmhiphop · 1 year

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A Fed Up Lizzo: Restricts Her Twitter Account and Threatens To Quit Music

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