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#2019 prompts
thechills · 3 months
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IN THE DEEP (horror and the sea for @antichrist-demoncore 🌊)
hermann melville / triangle (2009) / julia armfield / the deep house (2021) / h.p. lovecraft / underwater (2020) / mira grant / 47 meters down: uncaged (2019) / werner herzog / the deep ones
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skullfragments · 23 days
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in honor of the official 10th anniversary of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, i present to you this very accurate self-portrait i sketched in… (checks notes) 2019, of how i spent the first week of that particular summer break from college
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@catws-anniversary
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mockerycrow · 10 months
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16&18 with Farah please🙏 I need more Farah content🥹
SMUT PROMPTS: Farah Karim Drabble; “Waking Them Up With Oral” + “Taking Care Of Them Afterwards” (Fem!Reader) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT
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Reminder prior consent is implied for this prompt! Also, I love women. I think you can tell with how I wrote this..
God, you couldn’t help yourself—not when she was laying right there in your bed, looking as beautiful as she always does. You’re greedy when it comes to her, and she never minded it—Farah loved it, how needy you were for her; her taste, her voice, her touch.. Your head felt fuzzy as you stuffed your face into her cunt, her legs over your shoulders. You own burning arousal was deep in your gut, but all you could focus on was the wetness of Farah’s pussy. She lays there peacefully as you greedily drag your tongue between her folds, fully intending to drag at least one orgasm out of her, so you could lick it all up.
Farah mumbled in her sleep as your hand gripped her hips, pulling her pussy right against your face. You sucked on her clit and pulled away a couple of times, a loud and wet ‘pop!’ filling the air every time. Your hand comes around and spreads her folds, you nearly drooling at the sight of her clenching hole—even in her sleep, she enjoys your tongue. You managed to pull her through an orgasm as Farah woke up—she gasped and her thighs shut around your head, causing you to whine as you pressed your face into her pussy. You could die right here and now, and you’d be happy.
Farah shudders, a croaky “fuck..” leaving her lips. You let her ride out her orgasm and her high, and when she’s ready, her thighs let go of your head. You slowly sit up and rub her thighs and hips, gently squeezing to bring her back to reality. Your mouth is slick with her wetness, a grin on your lips. Farah sleepily looks at you, a quiet laugh leaving her as she throws an arm over her face. “Tasted so good, as always.” You murmur, laying down beside her. Farah mutters something incoherent as he turns to you and wraps an arm around your torso, intertwining your legs, and laying half on you—your fingers gently drawing patterns on the skin of her bare back, lulling her right back to sleep with a pleasant hum between her thighs.
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jokeringcutio · 6 months
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Helloooo I have a Halloween request for Arthur Fleck x female reader
I was thinking it could take place on Halloween while he's working for Ha Has, so he's walking home in his clown costume not realizing it's Halloween until he's passing a house/apartment party and gets invited inside by someone assuming he's their friend who also dressed as a clown. Maybe he goes along with it because he's never been to a party he wasn't performing at, but doesn't know how to act. Maybe the host pulls him to introduce to the reader and he has to come clean that he's not the guy everyone thinks he is. And she's just really sweet relieved because she didn't like the guy she thought he was, and tells him how she's never dated so people keep trying to set her up.
So they bond at the party and meet up for coffee or something later. Bonus points if they lose their virginity to each other and fall in love.
Sorry if that's too long or not specific enough. I just like a sweet, supportive, Disney princess type girl that brings out the best in Arthur and vice versa 💞
Arthur Fleck x Reader - Sweet Halloween (contains smut)
AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.
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Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (as Carnival) x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: You mistake him for somebody else, but that might be the best thing that happened to the both of you, for you end up losing your virginity to each other.
Warnings: Sexual content, Virginity/First Time.
1.
Those downtrodden streets with their faded yellow lights that made everything seem grey and bleak were familiar to Arthur. As he walked his usual route home, hands buried deep inside of his pockets, clown shoes kicking dirt and thrown-away wrappers and cans. He stared at the potholed pavement. There seemed to be more of a buzz around him, more noises. But he gave it no thought.
His Carnival costume hung loosely around him, his body too thin and too slender. He hadn’t had a good meal for the past God-knows how many weeks, and the lack of food was starting to have its effect on him. Arthur had grown easily tired and vexed and felt as if his hunger had left him completely. And so he kept his eyes pointed at the street, careful where to place his feet in case he might trip over the too-big shoes he had been too tired to swap for his ordinary pair. He would do it at home, he figured. He’d wash off the makeup there.
Being completely focused on the ground in front of his feet, he didn’t notice how he approached a house with an open door. A few young people stood on the porch, observing him as he neared. He felt their gazes, however, and made himself smaller than he was. His shoulders up high, hands even deeper inside his pockets and turned into fists – invisibly to their eyes. He tried not to draw too much attention to himself, eager to pass by without being picked on, laughed at, or even worse – beaten. He knew he was an easy target like this. And though the people he passed usually didn’t care, sometimes they would.
“Ah, there you are.” Before he had time to react, a gentle hand laid firmly upon his arm and he was ushered between the youngsters, pushed passed them, and into the house. It all happened so swiftly, that he had no idea how to react.
Soft hands pushed the small of his back, urging him into a hallway where they paused. Low thumps of music came from down the hall. There definitely was a party going on here. He tried to turn around and protest, but everything was happening way too fast.
“Josh, you can find Emma in the kitchen. She’s busy prepping the punch,” Arthur heard a female voice say from behind. It was a pleasant voice. One that sent sparks of warmth down his tummy.
He slowly turned around to face you, prepared for anything but you. A princess in every sense of the word. From your voice to your looks. You were even dressed in one of the prettiest dresses he had ever seen. Surely, if you were to come to work for Ha-Ha’s you’d be paid maximum wages. You’d have a booking every day. You-
You must be mistaken, he realized crestfallen as he watched you breathlessly. His shoulders slumped, his green eyes upon you. You didn’t want him here. You expected someone else. Some kind of Josh. What should he do? What should he do next?
There was a warm smile on your face. “Come on, let’s get going. I know you came just to see her, and I promise, no one is going to come in between the two of you tonight. This house got more than enough rooms for a bit of privacy.” You smiled at him and, once again, placed your warm hands upon him, pushing against his belly, probably to usher him in the direction of the kitchen. Then your eyes turned wide. Had you spotted he wasn’t Josh?
“Oh, gosh,” you gasped. “You really need to get some food in you. There’s some great apple and cinnamon pumpkin-shaped pies.”
So you hadn’t realized your mix-up, he thought. He followed your gaze as your eyes slid down his form. What must you be thinking of him, he wondered? This shabby clown, tired after a long day’s work. Your eyes darted lower and he followed your gaze. “Your shoes are so big. How can you walk without tripping?” The words spilled from your lips, melodious to his ears. Then your eyes sought his again. But instead of the judgment he had expected, your eyes sparked with joy and admiration. “They are amazing,” you said, warming his heart once more.
He blinked at you, confused. “I- I don’t think,” he started, voice too soft and being drowned out by the loud music that came down the hall. The realization came that you hadn’t heard him when you gave him a gentle pat on his shoulder and smiled.
“I know. Size matters! Well, you have an impressive girth,” you joked.
And then you were gone. The crowd had swallowed you, like a phantom. A ghost.
Arthur stood baffled. Had that just happened? As if in a dream, he glanced around him. The hallway was getting crowded as more people seemed to arrive at the party. He looked desperately but found no clue of you ever having been there. Had he entered the house himself? Had you been another delusion?
He leaned against a wall, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Taking deep breaths, he tried to steady himself. Another delusion, he thought. Another dream vision.
But then, an unfamiliar girl came to stand next to him, dressed as a pirate in a very revealing short array. Her red bouncy curls danced around her when she reached up to pull him into a hug.
“Ah Josh, glad you could make it,” the girl said with a smile. Arthur could see how the lipstick on her lips cracked at the motion. “Come on over, there’s food and drinks waiting.”
Luckily, she let go when Arthur started to feel the hug was getting too suffocating, and then she gestured ahead, urging him to walk into the next room which appeared to be some kind of large hall, decorated as a ballroom. He felt the girl’s eyes upon him for a little longer, but when he glanced behind him she seemed to have turned away. He saw her at the far end of the hall. Not a vision then. But not the woman he had dreamed of either.
Carefully, Arthur, still dressed as Carnival the Clown, entered the festive hall. The chandeliers were adorned with bats and cobwebs. Tiny fake ghosts hung from the ceiling and pumpkins filled the corners, all with faces like clowns. He could not help but chuckle when he saw what a wonderful room he had walked into. Everywhere, people were dancing.
Had he held any hesitation, it vanished when he saw the pumpkin pies the princess of his dreams had told him about. They stood on a table in front of him, looking every bit as delicious as you had told. For once, he thought to himself, you deserve this. “Well,” he nasally said to himself. “I suppose one bite won’t do any harm. After all,” here he suppressed the upwelling laughter that threatened to leave his lips. “They invited me in.”
2.
The Halloween party was in full swing, the room bathed in a dim orange glow from the flickering jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls. Laughter and chatter filled the air as costumed guests mingled and danced. You expertly wove through the crowd, your body swaying to the haunting beats of the music. You were no stranger to dancing; it was an outlet that allowed you to escape the challenges of your life.
As you moved across the floor, a man dressed as a clown caught your eye. The colorful frills of his costume juxtaposed against the dark atmosphere of the party. You’d seen him before. At the time you had believed him to be Josh, that friend that Emma had invited because she wanted to date him. You knew better now. The real Josh had appeared half an hour later. It made you realize you’d invited a stranger into the house.
But this stranger, this man dressed as a clown… he was fetching. There was something about him that lured you in. Now that you knew he wasn’t Emma’s to claim, you became bolder, more daring. Moving closer to him, you deliberately started moving along with him, feeling the beat of the song resonate within you. When he noticed you, his eyes lit up like fireworks, surprise and delight radiating from his gaze.
The clown began to challenge you with his moves, his hips gyrating to the rhythm of the music. He had good moves, you noticed. Every gesture was graceful, like dancing came as natural to him as breathing. The rotating of his hips, while his eyes rested firmly upon you, was an invitation you accepted without hesitation. You danced closer, enticed by the mystery behind the painted face. His movements were fluid and surprisingly graceful, drawing you in even more.
As the song continued, you found yourselves dancing together, his arm snaking around your waist as he twirled you effortlessly. Your bodies pressed close, the heat emanating from him warming you as his scent – a mix of cologne and something uniquely his – intoxicated you. A sense of desire bubbled within you, fueled by the passion of the dance and the enigmatic connection between you two.
He twirled you around again and then pulled you in close, until your back was pressed against his front. You could feel his hot breath tickle your ear. His fingers splayed on your tummy, holding you like a lover’s embrace as you sensually pressed your hips against his. Your bodies fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle, and you had to suppress a moan.
The sensation of your bodies colliding with each beat was overwhelming. The dance became a sensual exploration, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understood. And when the song came to an end, you lamented the fact that Emma stood several feet away, beckoning you to help her bringing the snacks from the kitchen. You reluctantly pulled away, feeling the sudden absence of his warmth. "Sorry,” you whispered, unsure if he could hear you over the starting tunes of a new beat, “I need to go help a friend.”
You felt your heart pounding in your chest as you saw the Clown’s lips twitch into a smile. You assumed he had heard you, and quickly turned away, unaware of how the clown doubled over as he watched you go, grabbing his stomach as he tried to bite back the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips. He failed though, and in an attempt to escape the judging gazes from those around him, he turned around and pushed his way through the crowd.
By the time you returned with the snacks, your eyes wandered to find your mysterious dancing clown, but found no trace of him. Crestfallen, you put the snacks down on the table and scanned the room once more. Your clown seemed to have gone. But the tingling sensation deep inside of you still lingered, reminding you of the dance you had just shared.
3.
Time slipped away, the evening deepening as laughter and chatter filled the air. You found yourself wandering outside to get some fresh air. The cool night breeze was a welcome respite from the heat of the party. You’d almost given up on finding him, almost convinced yourself that it didn’t matter, that this stranger you had met was someone you would never see again. But then, there he was.
Sitting on the porch and smoking, was the clown who had captivated you earlier. The sight of him stirred something within you – curiosity, desire, and an undeniable connection that you couldn't shake. You watched him for a moment, silently admiring his enchanting silhouette. Then you stepped closer to him.
"Hey," you called out softly, drawing his attention. “Are you alone?”
His eyes widened in surprise, the cigarette between his fingers momentarily forgotten. As he looked up at you, you caught sight of his vibrantly green eyes and your heart skipped a beat. So beautiful, you thought. You felt your cheeks flush.
"You're a really good dancer," you quickly said, smiling warmly at him.
The man seemed to hesitate, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, but he quickly recomposed himself. His shoulders relaxed again. "Oh, uh, thank you." He seemed almost embarrassed by the compliment, his cheeks flushing beneath the white face paint.
"Mind if I sit with you?" you asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside him before bunching up your skirt. If you showed him a little leg, well, that wasn’t entirely an accident. You could tell he had seen it, that he must have spotted your bare legs underneath your skirts, perhaps even the outline of your panties, for his cheeks flushed and he quickly glanced away. But you’d seen his pupils dilate.
"Of course not," he replied, snuffing out the cigarette. For a moment he stared ahead while you settled down onto the wooden steps. The warmth of his body radiated through the thin fabric of your costume, sending shivers down your spine.
“I thought I'd dreamed you up." His words caught you by surprise and you stared at him with eyes open wide. When he finally turned to lock gazes with you, his lips carried a shy smile. Almost as if he was afraid to admit it.
“Not a dream,” you assured him. "Definitely real."
For a moment, his smile broadened, an imitation of your own, and you were lost in his eyes. Their depths, their vibrancy… This man made you feel warm and alive.
But then his smile faded like snow in the sun, and he tore his eyes away from yours. Shyly, he looked down at his hands.  A deep frown appeared on his face, twisting his features. "I'm sorry,” he said, voice hardly more than a low mumble. “I’d better go.”
He shifted, jumping up to his feet without a warning, but you grasped him by the sleeve, preventing him from stepping away. He turned to look at you, surprise visible on his face.
“Why would you leave now?” you asked, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Didn’t he feel the same? You could swear he did. You’d seen it in his eyes, how the two of you had been lost in each other’s gaze.
The clown hesitated. You could see the thoughts running wildly inside his head, the deep frown when he licked his lips before he shyly admitted, “Because I am not who you want?”
“Nobody said that,” you smiled, the grasp on his sleeve diminishing until your hand just laid gently upon his arm. There was no pressure there. If he still wanted to leave, he could.
“But I,” his voice had turned nasal, like a whine. Whatever was going through that pretty head of his was making him worried. “I know you mistook me for a friend of yours," he finally admitted, a frown still on his features.
You shook your head and smiled, your hand slipping from his arm for a moment. But he did not run away. Instead, he remained rooted to the spot, standing there, looking down at you with eyes full of uncertainty. It was obvious he wanted to stay. And you did not want him to go.
Your hand reached out once more to gently touch his arm. "I want you to stay," you whispered.
In the dim light of the Halloween-lights, you could see how his eyes widened in surprise. You felt his body grow slack underneath your hand. "All right.”
Slowly, he sat down again. His hip slotted against yours, the warmth instantly returned, making you breathe a sigh of relief. He was here again, where he needed to be.
“My name's Arthur, by the way," he hesitatingly said, as if he were shy to introduce himself to you.
"Nice to meet you, Arthur," you replied, your heart racing as you studied his face. Beneath the makeup, there was a vulnerability that drew you in. Your thoughts raced, emotions swirling as you tried to make sense of the magnetic pull between you two.
"The boy I confused you with, he is Emma’s new friend,” you confessed, your gaze drifting to the ground. "She’s always dating, never able to go without a boyfriend for long, so I hadn’t really seen him yet.”
Arthur remained silent, just watched you, his gaze enough to encourage you. “She keeps trying to set me up, but it never feels right," you quietly admitted, feeling how Arthur shifted by your side. He placed his hands in front of him, fingertips touching.
“Truth is, I've never had a boyfriend before," you continued, voice a soft whisper. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I've never even dated.”
Your eyes gently slid back to seek his. He was still looking at your face, his eyes desperately seeking yours. And when your gazes met, you could tell there was a quiet understanding in his. A deep warmth.
“How come,” he started, but had to pause to clear his throat. His voice was hoarse, filled with emotion. “How come no one ever claimed you as their own? Who wouldn’t want you?” he asked you, warming you up inside because that was a high compliment. Who wouldn’t want you? Who would? Then again, you shrugged and shook your head.
With a small smile, you looked up at him again. “It’s not fully up to them, is it?” you said, a small smile curling your lips. It took him a moment to understand what you were saying, but then his lips curled into a smile as well, the red of his makeup curling upward even more.
“You didn’t want any of them,” he concluded, and you let out a sigh of relief that he caught your meaning.
“Never really felt a click with any of them,” you admitted. Your eyes drifted down to his hands. Carefully, you sought out his hand with your own, placing your palm on top of his. He allowed you to touch him, even waited till you liked up again before he flashed you another smile. Emboldened by his reaction, you gently squeezed his hand.
"I meant what I said earlier on,” you started, shyly but suggestive. “Maybe we could, uh, find some privacy inside?" Your voice was playful, teasing. "There are plenty of rooms."
Arthur's eyes sparked with mischief as he met your boldness head-on. "I'd like that." He returned the squeeze with his hand, then carefully rose, holding your hand in his own. He waited for you to lead the way, an unspoken invitation that sent a thrill through you. With your heart pounding, you led him back into the house, your warm hands still touching. You could hear his rapid breathing and realized he was excited too.
Upon entering one of the unoccupied rooms, you closed the door behind you and locked it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The room was clean enough, pleasant enough for sure. A cream-colored bed, ordinary and plain, invited you to take this further. If Arthur hadn’t wanted to go this far, he would not have followed you in, would he? And so you turned to face Arthur, who stood there, hesitantly shifting his weight from one foot to another.
"Go on," you urged gently, "take off your costume."
He looked at you oddly, as if you had said something preposterous, but then slowly started to unbutton his waistcoat. “You want to do more than just talk,” he murmured, and you blinked at him. For a moment he had you confused.
“I mean,” you started, suddenly feeling insecure. Where you going too fast for him? Was this the right thing to do? “Only if you…”
A deep groan tore from Arthur’s lips, interrupting you before you could finish. The waistcoat slid down his shoulders and without hesitation, he started to unbutton his fly. “You think I’d say no?” his voice was husky and low, thick with arousal. Hearing it sent a spark of lust deep down your core, making your pussy slick and moist at the sound of him.
“Oh no, my beauty,” Arthur continued, the words drawn and a low hum. His hand revealed his aching cock, firmly stroking up and down the hardened flesh. “No, pretty girl, I am going to make you all mine.”
Your mouth had turned dry at the sight of him. So eager. So wanting. “You’re beautiful,” the words spilled from your lips, earning you a groan as Arthur squeezed his cock hard.
“Don’t lie to me, princess. I am not much to look at,” he grunted, moving his hand up and down his shaft. His eyes never left your frame though, silently undressing you with his gaze. “Too thin, too meager. Not much of a man at all.”
“I disagree,” you said without giving it a moment’s thought. Your hands moved up your sides, slowly peeling the dress from your body, revealing all that you had hidden beneath it. His eyes lit up at the sight of your skin, then darkened with sinful desire. "You're more handsome than you give yourself credit for, Arthur."
He blushed at your compliments, his cheeks warming beneath the fading clown makeup. Despite his thin frame, you were drawn to him, captivated by the vulnerability in his eyes. The dress pooled at your feet, and then you stood there in just your underwear. His eyes roved over you, eager to take you all in. You loved it, loved the way his eyes took you in as if he wanted to remember all of you.
"Come here," you whispered, beckoning him closer. And when he was within reach, you cradled his face in your hands, looking deeply into his eyes before pressing a sweet, lingering kiss upon his lips, uncaring of the makeup that would surely smudge your own.
When you broke apart to catch your breath, the words that escaped you were a whisper.
"I want you to be my first, Arthur."
Something seemed to shift within him then, as if your words had unlocked a hidden desire. His restraint vanished, replaced by a hungry passion that matched your own. Arthur's hands found their way to your back, pulling you closer as he returned your kisses, tracing the contours of your body.
The two of you moved together as if you were dancing again. His body fit perfectly against yours, his hands led the way. You didn’t even notice that he had led you toward the bed until you felt the back of your knees bump against the mattress. His wig cap tumbled off his head, revealing brown curls underneath. It suited him, you thought. He was gorgeous.
Another kiss as his lips met yours hungrily. His hands ran past your skin, fondling your breasts eagerly, squeezing a bit too hard but making you feel exceptionally good.
Breaking the kiss you were sharing, you murmured against his skin. "Be gentle with me."
His green eyes sparked as he lay you down on the bed. The world outside the room ceased to exist; all that mattered now was this intimate connection between you and Arthur. The way his hands ran past your body and his fingertips danced down your skin, the way his scent enveloped you entirely like an embrace, the way he sunk deep into your core, letting out a shuddering moan.
If there had been pain initially, it soon ebbed away at his gentleness. He allowed you time to adjust, panting heavily above you while his eyes sought out yours. When you felt he was able to move again you gave an encouraging nod. He followed your command without a pause, gently thrusting his hips, first shallowly but deeper and deeper as time and your body allowed.
There was an experimental thrust of his hips, followed by another moan from his lips. His eyes squeezed close and his face contorted in ecstasy. As he slowly started to pick up a pace, murmuring obscenities about how good this all was, you suddenly realized that this might be his first time as well. As your bodies entwined and he gently rocked inside of you, you arched your back, spreading your legs to give him a little more access to rock deeper inside.
Arthur bit his lip and grunted. Another thrust, this time firmer, bolder. He hit a delicious spot deep inside and your walls fluttered around him as a result. It tore another deep moan from him. Again.
“There,” you pleadingly said, “there.” He obliged, seeking the right angle and thrusting inside of you with deep strokes.
“Is that good, princess?” You heard his low voice rasp. He sounded nearly dangerous now, voice drenched with lust. “Do you like my cock deep inside your pretty little cunt?”
“Y-yes,” you stammered, hardly able to speak as pleasure overtook your body. Your pussy clenched down hard on his cock, gripping him like a vice, making him grit his teeth and groan.
“Hmm, too tight, princess,” the low murmur sounded near your ear. He was bent over you, rutting into you like a frenzied animal. You loved this wild side of him, his forceful thrusts. They helped sent you over the edge.
The intensity of your shared passion was overwhelming, yet you both navigated your newfound intimacy with care and tenderness. Your breaths mingled, hearts racing in unison as you reached the peak of your shared experience, an exhilarating crescendo that left you both breathless.
Exhausted and content, you held each other close, your body pressed against Arthur's as he cradled you in his arms. As the adrenaline subsided, you looked into each other's eyes, warmth and affection radiating between you.
"Was this…your first time too?" You gently ran a knuckle past his cheek, caressing him as you softly whispered your question.
His green eyes held yours even as he nodded, barely able to speak as he muttered, "Yes...” A pause, a bob of his throat as he swallowed. And then an admission. “I love you so much."
He buried his face against your shoulder, cradling you close to his chest. His brown curls brushed past the skin of your jaw. A smile formed on your lips as you basked in the feeling of being held in the afterglow. It felt good to be held by this man. It felt good to have been pleasured by him and to know you’d given him pleasure in turn.
You knew that something truly special had just transpired, a moment of beautiful vulnerability shared between two souls in a world where such tenderness was all too rare.
“Happy Halloween,” you whispered.
~ Fin ~
AN: Hope you enjoyed it :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all
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gengarghast · 1 month
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Lameass thing I shunted together because my art teacher said I had to "make art" to "pass the class" so whatever ifg
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lnmei · 1 year
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Sun Wukong ✨🍑🐒
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mllekurtz · 8 months
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The unique relationship between a fanfiction writer and a place they've only seen on google maps
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pynkchampagne · 2 months
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yanderefantasies · 2 years
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Ok hear me out yandere bowers gang x short male reader that's Richie's older brother
I think this might he some good tea because it doesn't smell like 👺CaCa👺 to me senor
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•I. Feel so bad for Richie. My dude looks up to you- tries hanging out with u a bunch and getting you to join the losers club(despite being like three or four years older than them but whatever)
•But lo and behold- Lady Luck is not on Richie’s side! And that’s shown by the bowers gang approaching his dear sibling, in, what he assumes, a threatening way.
•But that’s dashed away pretty damn quick when instead of scaring and threatening you- once of em wraps a fucking arm around your waist and Henry leans close to you, in what Richie assumes is supposed to be flirty or smth. Eugh.
•Let’s be honest here- You probably only stick around Bowers and his ‘friends’ cause atleast they stay away from your baby brother, per your request. Aaaand their company isn’t too bad,,,, when they aren’t trying to kill every person they see.
•As much as you wanna hang out with Richie and his group of lil friends, you’re dragged around by these crazy mfs practically everywhere, every day.
•’dates’ with them are mandatory. Not cause they’ll hurt you- of course not. But they may just feel inclined to rough up a few people in your name. Which is. Obviously not good. Unless ur into that, and like it when they fight for you. Which,,,, mood.
•At the end of the day- Richie is gonna hafta fuckin deal with it until he finally just loses it cause he’s worried about you. Either you let him help you and stick with Richie and his friends for the whole Pennywise fight thing- oooor you continue to hang around bowers and his friends in the name of ‘protection’ for your little brother. Up to you.
•Either way, shits abt to go down. You stick with the losers club? Those four will do fucking anything to get you back. You stay with them? Goodluck- cause Bowers already gettin influenced by Penny. And it’s no wonder what Penny will offer to Henry, or literally the whole gang- wouldn’t be surprised if they all got manipulated by that clown.
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kindlyrot · 10 months
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I drew them from memory at 4AM. I could hear the birds chirping.
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sunshinereddie · 1 year
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For the soft fic prompt thing could you maybe do number 3 or 30?
sorry anon that this took forever to reply to!!! hope you enjoy reading :D
3: forehead kisses
There were lots of things that Richie loved about his boyfriend.
He loved Eddie's smile, and the loud laugh that he let sometimes slip whenever he heard something really funny. He loved the way Eddie cared for him- both in a physical way, in making sure Richie ate lunch every day, as well as an emotional way, in giving Richie a shoulder to cry on and giving him loving reassurance whenever he felt down. He loved the way Eddie cuddled into him at night like a koala bear, wrapping his arms and legs around Richie so tightly that Richie wouldn't be able to get up if he tried (it's made Richie late for work a few times, but he doesn't mind in the slightest).
One of the other things that Richie loves about Eddie, is that Eddie is the perfect height for forehead kisses.
When Richie is cooking dinner and Eddie comes to stand beside him, Richie can easily plant a kiss on his forehead. When they're sitting on the couch together and Eddie falls asleep, he is always just at the perfect height and angle against Richie's chest for Richie to wake him up with a gentle kiss to his forehead. When Eddie comes home from a bad day at work and he walks straight into Richie's arms for some comfort, automatically tilting his head up ever so slightly to give Richie access to his forehead.
Richie showed his love for Eddie in a thousand different ways, but a gentle press of his lips to Eddie’s forehead was definitely one of his favourites.
BONUS: Growing up, Eddie had always… disliked his height. He had always been short than his friends, his classmates, and even throughout college and his young adult years, he always found himself to be one of the shortest in whatever group he was in.
For nearly 40 years, he had always disliked his height… until he started dating Richie, and discovered that he was just the right height to receive a forehead kiss from Richie.
For the first time in his life, Eddie hoped his growth spurt would never come.
30. ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’
"Oh my god, did you see who's over there?"
"No, who?"
"Over at the bar- that's Richie Tozier!"
"Who?"
Bill raised his eyebrows at his coworkers. "Richie Tozier?" he repeated. "The comedian? He's like, one of the most popular guys in comedy these days? He's starring in that upcoming movie with Brad Pitt?"
Beverly rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink. "You know I don't watch that kind of stuff, Denbrough."
"That's not the point," Bill said, looking back across the room to the tall, curly-haired man standing at the bar. "What the hell is Richie Tozier doing here, at our office party?"
"It's a public bar, Bill," Ben pointed out. "Ever think that maybe he's just here to get a drink?"
Stanley frowned. "A rich, world-famous comedian is getting a drink in a tiny, crowded, 2-star pub in Brooklyn?" He shook his head as he watched the comedian chat animatedly with the bartender. "Doesn't add up."
"Well, you can't be implying that he's here for the office party, right?" Mike said.
"No, but, I mean there must be a reason-"
"Hi, everyone."
While they were all indeed curious about Richie Tozier's attendance at their little party, Stanley's theory was cut short by a new addition to their table as Eddie Kaspbrak squeezed himself into the spot in between Beverly and Mike.
Eddie Kaspbrak was very much a part of this little office friend group, though he was the most mysterious out of all of them. He didn't talk much about his personal life... or anything other than work, really. So while things like Stanley's marriage and kid on the way, Beverly's side business, and the novel that Bill was attempting to write when he wasn't in the office were all common knowledge amongst them, the most that any of them really knew about Eddie was that he was married- and only because of the ring on his finger, not because he had told them. They were all definitely curious about the mysterious life of Eddie Kaspbrak, but they also respected him enough not to pry.
They all returned cheerful hello's and how are you's in reply to Eddie, but when Bill noticed the comedian at the bar move out of the corner of his eye, their conversation from before quickly resumed. "Hey, Eddie, do you know who Richie Tozier is?"
Eddie's eyes widened slightly, and if Bill wasn't mistaken, he seemed to have the slightest hint of a smile on his face. "I've heard of him," Eddie replied.
"Well, he's here, apparently," Beverly said. "And Bill's getting all excited about it."
"I am not getting all excited about it," Bill said, to which Beverly grinned. "I'm just wondering why he's here."
"Maybe you should go ask him," Ben suggested. "Maybe he'll even give you his autograph."
"Oh, shut it, Hanscom."
"What do you think, Eddie?" Mike asked, after the laughter and Bill's blush had died down. "Any ideas on why a famous celebrity would be here, at this bar, at our office party?"
Eddie glanced between his friends, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He looked almost nervous, but the smile on his face seemed to grow. "Ah," he said after a few moments of thought. "Well, actually, you see-"
"Eds!"
A voice cut through the music playing and all the conversation around them, and when Bill looked over to the source, he couldn't believe his eyes.
Richie Tozier was walking towards them, a big grin on his face, and his eyes set on Eddie. Bill thought he must be mistaken, that Richie Tozier was definitely not approaching them, that he was calling for someone else who just happened to have a similar nickname to Eddie, there was just no way...
So Bill could only watch in amazement and confusion as Richie Tozier stopped directly beside Eddie, and handed him one of the drinks in his hand. "They didn't have your favourite wine," Richie said as Eddie took the glass. "Or your second favourite, either. So I got your third favourite, which I know is not ideal, but it's the best this place and their pathetic wine selection could do."
Nobody could quite believe what they were seeing, or hearing. The five of them had worked with Eddie for almost six years now, and collectively they probably knew five facts about Eddie Kaspbrak... but somehow, celebrity comedian Richie Tozier has the knowledge of Eddie's favourite type of wine, as well as his second, and third? And he even has a nickname for Eddie, who as far as Bill knew, hated when people tried to give him a nickname?
Eddie glanced down at his wine, not looking too happy about having to settle for his third choice, but looked back up to Richie with a smile and thanked him anyways. Richie beamed proudly as he took a sip of his own drink, before glancing over to the group standing around them, and the five pairs of eyes staring at them in surprise. "So, Eds," Richie said. "You gonna introduce me to your friends or what?"
Eddie returned his attention back to his friends, and Bill noticed that his blush was even more prominent now, though his smile was as big as Bill had ever seen it. "Right," he said. "Uh, Richie, these are some of my coworkers, the ones I told you about- this is Bill, Mike, Beverly, Stanley, and Ben." Richie eagerly shook each of their hands, greeting them with a genuine-sounding, Pleasure to meet 'ya!
Eddie hesitated for a few moments after Richie let go of Ben's hand, as though he was trying to figure out what to say next, but was having trouble. Bill found this rather odd, as at work Eddie never seemed to have a problem with speaking in their meetings, but Bill was still trying to process the fact that Richie Tozier was standing in front of him and just shook his hand, that he didn't spend too much time pondering over Eddie's behaviour.
Finally, after taking another sip of his third-choice wine, Eddie spoke up again. "Guys, I'd like you to meet Richie- my husband."
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jokeringcutio · 1 year
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Could u please do reader x joker 2019?
Reader protects Arthur (before he turned into joker) from when his sign was taken and she beat the kids up and he won’t ever forget that moment. But now,Arthur turned into the joker, he returns the favour by saving her from bad guys?
And when he saves her, he walks elegantly towards her 😫✨ and says “I missed you, doll” 🫣🫣🫣😭✨
Title: Savior Fandom: Joker 2019 Pairing: Arthur Fleck (Joker)  x Reader Rating: Mature for safety. Warnings: Violence, (attempted) sexual assault, Crude Language, Clown beating, Blood, Murder. AN: I wrote two versions of this. A sweeter tale, after which I realized the prompt specifically said that the Reader beats those bad boys up – so I rewrote it. Now I really struggled with how the Joker saved the Reader in this. I’ve written several different scenarios, but none of them felt right. In the end, I decided to base it on personal experience and went along with something that happened to me and frightened me a lot while I was in university. And that was passing this certain school and the young men that tried to sometimes sexually assault you there. It never went as far as in this fic, though, thank the lucky stars. But I had to push the situation a bit more to get a more satisfying end to their lives >D
Be warned, the boys in the second part try to attempt to rape the reader (I won’t go as far as clothes being torn off etc, but they do try to drag her into an alley and scold her).
So if any of this triggers you, please, do not read and hold out for the sweeter fill of this prompt that I will be posting later on <3
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~ Savior Fill : I Can Handle Myself ~
The boys ran past you with such haste, it was as if a train passed you. You followed them with your eyes, frowning, and inwardly cursed how rude they had been to nearly trample you on their way past you. But you didn’t have long to think angry thoughts, because a man rushed by, clearly in pursuit. A clown, you thought, eyes now wide. A clown with a green wig cap adorned with curly fake hair and ridiculously big shoes. It must make his steps that much harder. How did he manage to keep up, you wondered.
“Hey, stop them!” the clown shouted. But the boys were shouting back profanities and crossed the road. The clown was nearly hit twice by a car as he followed. One glance around you told you that no one had bothered to run after them. Though some people stood and watched, most seemed to ignore the weird scene. You didn’t hesitate a single moment, though, and ran.
It had been hard to cross the road, but once you were on the other side, you came to a halt and your eyes darted from side to side. Where had they gone to? Then you spotted the clown as his feet slipped from the pavement and he caught himself with his hands. He’d nearly fallen but scrambled up to his feet again before he dashed into one of the alleys. He disappeared out of sight, but you had memorized the spot and made your way over to it as swiftly as you could.
At the entrance of the alleyway, you stood still to observe something you had hoped you would never see. Five teenagers stood huddled around the clown. His bright yellow sign lay scattered upon the floor, broken as if smashed against something. The man was quiet but conscious. You could see how he tried to shield his body from the incoming blows. And your mind went haywire.
You didn’t even register how you moved in on the boys, you suddenly just stood behind them. One high kick was enough to hit the first one on his shoulder. The tall teenager turned around, clearly confused, but you gave him little time to retaliate. Instead, he met your fist eye-first, and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the clown’s shivering frame.
At this point, the others boys had noticed your presence and they stopped their assault on the man. Instead, they turned to you. Eyes all dark and glowering, teeth shown. Like rabid dogs, you thought. But there was no time for thinking now.
You held your arms up in front of your face, hands curled into fists. A little hop to your step as you sprung side to side like you’d seen boxers do on the television.
“How about it, boys?” you whispered. You had wanted to sound cool, but something in your voice broke. It didn’t come out sad though, just a little husky. The boy whom you had dubbed their leader because he was taller and seemed to be the one to take initiative took a step closer to you. His eyes widened at the sight of you.
“Leave the clown alone,” you demanded, then ducked when the anticipated attack struck you right after. The boy’s knee was up to hit your chest, but you had seen it coming and darted out of its way. A fist was launched at your face, but either by sheer luck or good reactional skills, you managed to block it with your arms.
The move seemed to surprise the boy as much as it did you, because he took a second to recover before he tried to hit you again.
The others boys now joined in, the clown forgotten behind them. They inched closer to you with fists raised until a second boy launched himself at you, and all of a sudden, hands and legs were swung in your direction like a flurry.
You didn’t manage to dodge all of the blows, but you made a lucky move when you crouched down to avoid them, then kicked out your leg. Your foot hit an ankle, and one of the boys fell, taking the boy next to him with him by accident. With two down, you sprung up again and hurdled yourself at one of the remaining three. It was one of the smaller ones, an easier target. You tackled him to the floor in a tight hug, then let go of him the moment he lay down. Seated on top of him, you smashed your fist against his cheek, a blow that pushed his head into the dirt and the crumbling asphalt below. Then you moved off of him.
Just in time, it seemed. The two boys who still stood rushed forward to you. In a fit of panic, you reached next to you. The road was littered with garbage that had been torn from the many uncollected garbage bags, and your hand closed around something sharp. What the hell was it?
It didn’t matter. This was your life you were concerned about. With eyes closed, you flung the sharp object away from you, only to hear a gasp come from the boys. Had you hit one of them?
But when you opened your eyes, you saw they were unharmed. But they were gasping at something, eyes raised to the sky. You looked up to see your shot had cut one of the electricity cables that hung above the alley. The cable dangled dangerously above your heads, a crackling sound and sparks erupted from the cut end.
“Come on,” one of the boys then shouted, “Let’s go, let’s go!” The boy still on the ground jumped up to his feet. Blood seeped from a gash on his cheek. He threw you an accusing glare, but made no comment, before he turned away from you and the dangling electricity cable, then ran off.
The other boys followed until you were left alone in the alley. Alone apart from the shivering clown.
You ignored the cable above your head, as you did the shouts of someone in one of the apartments who was cursing that their television had stopped working. Hurriedly, you crawled over to the hunched form of the man, and then slowly bent over him. He kept his hands between his legs. Must have taken a few hard kicks to the balls, you thought. You felt pity for him.
If only you could have chased them off earlier. If only you could have spared him this fate.
“Hey,” you carefully started, your hand on the man’s shoulder. He didn’t shrug your hand away, but he did flinch when you first touched him. But then, as he heard your voice, his eyes opened and he looked up at you. Your heart nearly stopped beating, because the eyes that locked with yours were the brightest green you had ever seen. So pretty. Accentuated by the clown’s makeup and his hair, certainly, but ever so beautiful.
You could have asked him then if he was okay, but that would have been a superfluous question. Of course he wasn’t. He was beaten up, and bruised, his sign shattered. There was nothing you could do to help his bruises, you knew that. But perhaps there was a chance to bring him comfort, to soften those mental wounds he must have received so they wouldn’t scar as badly.
“Let me help you,” you whispered, again. Your hand slid to the man’s white-painted cheek.
He smiled.
2.
You’d nearly forgotten the man you had once saved. The mysterious clown who hadn’t given you his name and hadn’t accepted any offers to help him. It had been as if he was scared of you. The way his shoulders raised when you spoke to him and how he avoided looking into your eyes. You had caught him looking at you though. Whenever you looked away his eyes would be upon you, and there’d be awe within them. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real.
But that was months ago.
When you met him again, you were on your way home. This particular street led you past a community college building, a place where young men often loitered about, hands in their pockets, leering at you when you passed by. You’d gotten used to the whistles and the comments. You thought it was normal until one of your fellow female students pointed out that they never called after her.
Passing this street didn’t always make you feel safe, so when you were particularly tired, you’d go the long way around to the train station. But today, you wanted to take the shortcut. A choice you instantly regretted.
“Oi, pretty girl,” one of the boys wearing a hoodie, hands in his pockets like they usually had, shouted the moment he saw you. He came heading your way, a weird lilt to his step. You instantly knew this wasn’t going to be okay. “Oi, come here,” he said.
Behind him, a friend of his emerged out of the shadows of the building. A crooked smile upon his face and an evil glint in his eyes. “I think you have a little time for us, don’t you?” the boy said.
Two more friends emerged and you quickly scanned the area. Somehow, you were all alone. No other students were behind you, just in front, but they had just rounded the corner and were long gone.
The streets seemed empty as it was already getting late. The setting sun shone over the street tiles, making them shimmer. With hands flexed, you made to turn around, but the first boy managed to corner you.
“Uh-uh, I don’t think so,” he said. You wrinkled your nose in disgust when you saw he had grabbed you by the arm. His grip was tight and unpleasant. You started to feel scared for being surrounded by these young men who clearly wanted a thing from you that you were unwilling to give them. “Here, baby, don’t be difficult. Now, you’re gonna be good to me and my friends?”
You flinched, certain of one thing. You were not going to make this easy for them.
With as much strength as you could muster, you pulled your arm back sharply. An attempt to bring your arm back to your belly, but the boy’s hand remained attached. It hadn’t worked.
With gritted teeth, you flung your knee up to aim at either his chest or his balls. You hoped to hit the latter. But once again the boy was too swift. He used your own arm to block the attack, which hurt darn much. You winced and bit back a cry at the pain you felt. Stupid, you thought. You probably had bruised your own arm.
Another attempt from you to twist out his hands, but the second boy gripped your shoulders from behind and forced your body still. You cursed, loudly. “Let go of me,” you said as loudly as you could. “Let go, or I’ll scream.”
This threat instantly triggered a third boy to cover your lips with his palm. “You try and fight back bitch, and we’ll fuck your cunt into a bloody mess.”
With eyes wide of shock, because how dare they scold and denigrate you like this? You noticed how the four of them started to drag you into the narrow alley next to the building. An alley, you knew, would mean the end of it. Because how many people passed this street? And how many of them would think to look in that alley on their way? Your chances to escape would be zero to none.
No, your mind screamed. No, this can’t be how it goes. This can’t happen to me.
You struggled with all your might, even if it were hardly possible to move within their arms. All it earned you was a hard whack against the head, and a kick against your shin. More bruises, you thought, panicking. You had to get out.
Just before they could pull you into the alley, you had the mind to bite the boy whose arm had circled around your shoulders and who covered your mouth in the hand. He cried out. Then suddenly his hands were gone, and he fell face-first next to you. His head inside the alley. His body was limp.
You looked at him confused. Had your bite done that? But then a second boy, this time to your other side, called out. A high-pitched yell of pain. Arms flailing, he fell down to the ground as well, leaving only the two boys behind your back.
Their hands let go of you, and finally you were able to turn around. There they stood, both boys with their backs turned to you. Their attention all upon a new man who had appeared behind them. A man in a red suit, stylish, if not for the many spots upon it. Had he spilled coffee, you wondered at first. But no, it would have been a lot of coffee. The spatters were too many and too far apart. Then what could it be?
The man stood face down, a cigarette held between his lips and fingers, the tip glowing. You could not see his face, but something about his posture seemed familiar. Like a distant memory was awoken upon the sight of him. You’d seen this man before, but where?
His other hand rested inside his pants pocket, lazily, elbow hooked. Nothing about him indicated what had just been done, so you didn’t notice it at first. Not until he blew a small cloud while the cigarette left his lips, and he finally looked up at you all. You saw the paleness of his face. Not natural, but made by makeup. Familiar, you thought again. But it couldn’t be him, could it? The blue triangles near his eyes. The green tangled hair.
This man was dressed as a clown, you realized. A clown you’d seen pictures of before on the television, and on the wanted posters all around the city. A villain recently sought after by Wayne and the authorities.
The Joker.
No wonder you had thought you recognized him. A man known to be ruthless. Cold needles spread all over your spine and you froze up with fear. You knew you had to go, to escape, to run fast and as far as you could before he ended your life like had the lives of so many others. His reasons were often left unknown. Not just Wayne’s men had been murdered, dozens more.
But then your eyes turned to the two boys on the floor and you realized the clown must have a gun. Red had started to spread, leaking from the chests of the boys down onto the street tiles below. Their clothes were stained with the red liquid that was now rapidly spreading.
They’d been shot.
Then the stains on the clown’s suit weren’t made by coffee at all. They were blood as well.
You looked up again in fear, eyes wide. But the Joker’s gaze was not upon you. It was fixed firmly upon the boys in front of you. His hand rested lazily in the pocket of his red pants. Probably where he is hiding the gun, you mused.
“I think you have something of mine there,” was all Joker needed to say for the boys in front of you to start stumbling backward. What was it? You wondered. What did they have? What had you found yourself entangled in? Their screams echoed throughout the alley as they turned on their heels to run. They made it past you, into the narrow street, but only made it in several paces before one by one, they were shot in the back. Cowardly, you thought, but they oh-so deserved it for what they had tried to do to you.
They fell forward, their bodies slumped. You didn’t know if they were instantly dead, or if their life was slowly slipping away from them. You didn’t care to watch. Instead, you turned your head back to the Clown Prince of Crime, a title given to him by the most ruthless and the most influential of all men in Gotham.
The Joker stood where he had been standing. The only change was his now raised arm, a smoking gun aimed at where the boys once had run. Your heart nearly stopped of fear, and you hardly dared to keep your eyes upon him. Surely, he would shoot you next. Whatever this was, whatever this had been, he would probably assume you were part of the group. Had they stolen something from him? Did he want it back enough to kill them for it? Why should he spare you?
With your eyes averted, nearly closed while you trembled in fear, you heard his steps upon the tiled street. His soles slipped upon the glistening tiles, still wet from the rain earlier today, before the sun had started to peek through the clouds.
You heard how he walked towards you, taking his time, a cigarette in his hand, still burning. Then he brought it to his lips and took a long drag before he exhaled slowly. Little clouds of white swirled up from his lips to disappear into the early summer sky while he tilted your head with one finger, forcing you to lock eyes with his own.
They were the purest green you had ever seen. It was within that instant that you recognized him as the clown whose life you had once saved. Eyes that had once been filled with terror and disbelief, but had been ever so green that they had drawn you in. Eyes that had once looked at you as if he could not believe you were real. The gaze in them was the same. That look that told you he had a hard time believing that you existed.
But why?
This man had once been hunched over, frightened for his life, trembling. But now it was you who was in his place. And something in his gaze softened. You saw the recognition in his eyes and thought he must have spotted yours.
His fingers upon your chin tightened. The way he studied you while he moved your face with his hand, tilting it from side to side as he took you in the sight of you, made something in his eyes change. His gaze became more intense, darker.
Then his head dipped forward and his lips were planted against yours. The taste of bitter smoke and something unique to him invaded your senses. It felt pleasant. Unexpected, but heartwarming. A butterfly rose in your chest and wanted to fly, hot flames licked the insides of your belly. And this man had done all that with just one kiss.
And then he withdrew, but his eyes remained focused upon your lips. As if he was hungry for more, a craving you shared with him. He seemed to be catching his breath, his chest moved rapidly up and down, while his fingers finally slid free from your face so he could place his hands on your hips. You placed your hands on his chest and looked up at him, lips parted in a silent sigh, a quiet invitation for him to kiss your lips again. The Clown Prince of Crime happened to be your very own clown.
“I missed you, doll,” he murmured, voice hoarse and low. He had no idea how much you had missed him. "I think you'd be a lot safer in my arms, don't you?" he hummed, and you didn't think to go against him.
The newspapers reported you missing the very next day.
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igzsatelier · 2 years
Text
Hellboy and reader's interactions that I thought of.
You : You know, not every problem can be solved with your stone fist.
Hellboy : That's why I carry a gun.
🚬
You : We all have our demons.
You, holding Hellboy's hand : This one's mine.
🚬
Hellboy : So that’s my plan.
You : Can I give a second opinion?
Hellboy : Sure, let's hear it.
You : It fucking sucks.
Hellboy : Hey!
🚬
You, tending to Hellboy's wounds: How would you rate your pain?
Hellboy : Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.
🚬
Hellboy : So are we flirting right now?
You : I AM LITERALLY FIGHTING YOU
Hellboy : That doesn’t answer my question.
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kingofthering · 8 months
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also 17 for mabio? 🥺
17. to distract
Malaysia 2019.
Watching Marc pacing around the living room of his motorhome feels like watching a lion in his cage and right then, Fabio isn’t sure that he has in him what it would take to tame the beast.
Fabio wasn’t even supposed to be here. They don’t do Sundays together (not until the race is over, anyway). It feels a little silly to talk about habits already because what they have is so fresh and so new Fabio is constantly amazed about it and worrying about the bubble bursting.
Still, they each have their routine until the race. But on Wednesday night, the two of them in bed with Marc’s head pillowed on Fabio’s chest, he admitted : “I’m already stressed about Alex, I’m going to be insufferable to watch the race with.”
Fabio chuckled and scratched the curls at the base of Marc’s skull. “Good thing I don’t have to be there with you, then, I’ll be praying for your team, though,” he said. And then, Marc raised his head and the question hadn’t escaped his lips yet that Fabio knew he couldn’t refuse.
So now he’s here. He talked with Tom to figure out how to not fuck up his own schedule, went on the grid to give Tony his usual words of encouragement and then joined Marc to watch the Moto3 race with him, the podium currently showing on the screen, Italian anthem playing in the background.
“Marc,” Fabio calls. He almost thinks that Marc is not going to hear him, too focused on his own thoughts, but he does stop moving, turning towards Fabio. “Come here.”
Fabio extends one hand up from where he’s sitting on the couch. It’s just the two of them for now. Alex is getting ready in his box and Marc’s team (including his father) is in the Honda garage where Marc will join them after watching the start and the first couple of laps with Fabio.
(At some point it does need to be a family thing, especially when cameras will be there to film them. Fabio is still surprised that he was asked by Marc’s side for that extended amount of time but he cherishes the moment anyway.)
Marc seems to hesitate for an instant, almost reluctant to stop his silly pacing, but then he starts moving, joining Fabio and letting Fabio tug him down until he’s straddling him and Fabio has one hand on Marc’s jaw, thumb brushing his bottom lip.
Fabio closes the gap between them. Marc is very much not an active participant in that first kiss but he chases Fabio’s mouth for an additional peck and rests their foreheads together after Fabio pulls away.
“Sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now,” Marc mumbles after a sigh.
Fabio smiles. Marc wasn’t nearly as nervous before Thailand a couple of weekends ago and that was his first chance at securing the title this year. It’s cute how much more stressed he gets for Alex. Might be something about the lack of control over the situation, Fabio can understand that.
“So I’ve been warned,” Fabio says before gently kissing Marc again. One of his hands finds Marc’s waist, holding him, and the other goes to Marc’s nape, his thumb rubbing the skin there. “How many turns in Sepang?”
Fabio fights not to smile at Marc’s frown. “I’ve been here like 10 times before, I know the circuit.”
Fabio kisses the corner of Marc’s mouth. He was at home in 2011 and he was in the paddock in 2015. He knows that Marc has some shitty memories here and could use some new good ones.
“I know you do,” Fabio says, drawing back just a little when Marc tries to chase his mouth again. “So, how many turns?”
Marc first huffs and then he says, “15. 5 left-handers, 10 right-handers.”
Fabio uses his hold on Marc’s neck to kiss him properly this time. Marc follows him, his hands slipping under Fabio’s shirt while his tongue pushes at the inseam of Fabio’s lips.
When they part, a quick look at the clock on the wall tells Fabio they still have a good 15 minutes to go before the warm-up lap of the Moto2 race.
“Walk me through the circuit. Tell me which sections are the most critical.”
“Now you’re just trying to have tips to beat me.”
Fabio tilts his head to the side, thumb still drawing mindless patterns against Marc’s neck. “What if I am?”
They share a look, silence filling the room for just a couple of seconds, and then Marc laughs. He squeezes Fabio’s waist once just because he can before he goes, “Well, 1 and 2 are slow corners, you know how to take those. You’re gonna have to take advantage of them to compensate for what the long straights will give to the Ducatis.”
Fabio has no doubt that Marc has seen through him now but he’s no longer pacing a hole through the floor and his heart feels calm against Fabio’s chest so, he deems the distraction a success.
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treloninjaki · 1 year
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🎃 injured 🐺
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FUCKING CRYING SOBBING THROWING UP READING THE SECOND LIGHT NOVEL
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