#silent voice icons

[haoraezip]

[kirbyfigure]

hey!! can you make a username for nattie?? thank you in advance

༘ ೀ anime CDs! ⋆｡˚⋆

[asketchydomesticatedgremlin]

spire climbers

[belliewie]

-Shouko nishimiya.🌸

[sincerelyangelberry]

Primary color is #ff65a4 - Accent is #7be6ea

Matching Silent voice discord pfp’s and banners.

F2U, Credit would be appreciated.

[arthass24]

A Silent Voice (Shoya Ishida)

[iianfl]

[cxthrizzshohicko]

☆ Shouko Nishimiya & Shouya Ishida Icons ! ☆

Anime : A Silent Voice.

[flameshe]

Shouko Nishimiya icons

[tweeker-tincel]

Yuzu❤️❤️

𝐘𝐔𝐙𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒 . → 驚叫 ╯⌗!

承 — 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾/𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾

▾ 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺: @lazinnesss

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Hope everyone's ready for me to not fucking shut up about the Uzumaki anime btw

[lustagel]

riding dexter in his iconic killer fit 𐫱 fem reader :p nom

he likes for things like this to be separate. things being his passion with you and his dark passenger but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to quite separate them tonight once he saw your glossy eyes and longing stare after he’d entered his apartment. he thought you’d been long asleep by the time he’d gotten there, that’s why he hadn’t bothered to change, but he was mistaken. as you pepper kisses under jaw, like you always do, you hadn’t seem to notice at all, even when you unbuckled his pants enough to slide his dick into you.

dexter would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly distracted as you rode him, the heat of your body contrasting against the cold precision of his thoughts, he was only obtaining fragments of the scene in front of him—the soft hum of your voice, the way your body moves, the way his hands rest on your hips, offering a subtle semblance of control he doesn't truly want to exercise right now. he was silently grateful that it was dark in the bedroom, nothing emulating light but the moon through the crack of the blinds, or you would see too much of him.

as if not to let you see, he moves his eyes from you to where you are connected noticing how the fabric of his pants are becoming wet from your gushing pussy. “oh,” he says in a hushed moan, taking mental note for himself to buy new pants later. you're unaware of it all, lost in the rhythm, calling his name between moans, feeling his toned chest underneath your hands as it inflates with oxygen. your eyes follow his neck down to his chest where you see the tight, green, long sleeve, the color bouncing off the blacks of your eyes from the moonlight. you let out a little whimper at the looks of his body under yours, head slightly spinning.

his hands tighten slightly on your hips as you bounce harder, your breath hitching, but he releases as soon as he hears it. he lets it happen, lets you guide him with your own pace and speed until you reach it. it's the sound of your soft gasp, the way your nails dig into his chest as you climax, that grounds him in this moment—not as a predator, but as a man.

[belliewie]

-Shouya Ishida.🍎

[tweeker-tincel]

Another Yuzu post❤️

冫like or reblog if you save

[pathologicalreid]

missed calls | s.r.

in which Spencer answers Hotch's daughter's phone when he calls to check in after a case

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: hotchner!reader, minimal case information, spencer's pov word count: 741 a/n: yooo this is the shortest margotober fic!! but it's so wholesome that i couldn't pick anything else 😭

Your nose whistled with every exhale, with every page he turned, Spencer looked down at your sleeping form to make sure he wasn’t disturbing you. He ignored the buzzing of your phone, Hotch told everyone not to come in until the briefing at ten, so the buzzing wasn’t something he’d concern himself with. He’d rather you catch up on sleep.

Turning the next page, he moved his hand down and swept some hair from your face, freezing when you stirred. He kept his eyes on you, making sure you didn’t fully wake up before he returned to his book.

Last week, a case had gone wrong, and you ended up at the center of it. Physically, you were unharmed, but the way the case went down took a toll on you mentally. You tried to accept the blame, but no one else would allow you to be blamed.

It had been keeping you up at night, thinking you could’ve done something differently that would’ve led to a different outcome. You would stare at the ceiling for all hours of the morning until either your alarm went off or you physically couldn’t keep your eyes open. Sleep deprivation in the field was dangerous, Spencer knew that from personal experience.

So, when the two of you came home from work, decided to decompress on the couch and you fell asleep with your head in his lap, he resolved himself to a night on the couch. If he had to suffer a stiff neck in the morning, he’d get through it just so you can get the rest you so desperately need.

Looking back over at your phone as it rang again, he adjusted the blanket that you had thrown over yourself before finally picking up the phone. He hummed at the screen, your dad was calling you, three times in the last ten minutes.

Spencer looked down at you, your hands folded beneath your head as you dreamt, and he couldn’t get himself to wake you. It felt cruel to wake you when this is the first time you’ve fallen asleep naturally in days, so instead of having you answer the phone, he clicks the green icon and answers the call himself.

“Hey, Hotch,” he greeted, keeping his voice low so that he wouldn’t ruin his own plan and wake you up.

Your father is silent on the other line for a moment, probably checking his screen to double check which number he had called, “Where’s Y/N?” He asked, a hint of fatherly concern laced in his tone.

Watching you sleep, Spencer looked at you as he responded, “She’s right here, she’s asleep.”

Hotch was silent on the other end of the call; he was more than aware of your sleeping problems. Just yesterday, he had pulled Spencer into his office to ask him what was going on with you, which clued Spencer into the fact that you were messing up at work. Little things like missing a checkbox on paperwork and forgetting files on your desk when you were supposed to be in the roundtable room.

Spencer gently cleared his throat, “Did you need to talk to her?” It was a leading question, Spencer was providing the answer on a silver platter, nearly begging your father to just let you sleep.

“No,” Hotch answered quickly, practically scrambling to get the answer out. “No, don’t wake her,” he iterated, “Just, uh… will you tell her I called?”

Nodding even though he couldn’t see, Spencer responded, “Yeah, I’ll tell her in the morning.”

Your dad was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again, “Reid?”

“Yes, sir?” He answered dutifully, his voice just hovering over a whisper as you adjusted in your sleep.

“Thank you,” he responded, matching Spencer’s quiet tone over the phone, likely because Jack was already asleep for the night. “For watching over her,” he continued, clarifying why exactly he was expressing gratitude.

Spencer gently smoothed your hair back, personally grateful to see peace on your face as you slept. “It’s my pleasure,” he whispered in response.

Your dad cleared his throat, “Have a good night, Reid.”

“You as well,” Spencer moved the phone, ending the call before returning it to its place on the side table. Unable to reach you, he pressed two of his fingers to his lips before resting them on your temple, effectively kissing you goodnight before he lifted his book and went back to reading.

[harrysfolklore]

Imagine max x driver!reader with the whole fia and swearing situation they’d be such a power couple. Manifesting more max fics!! I love all your work esp little bitch and honorary wag💓

okay this is teeeny tiny piece but i just had tooo. max is too iconic

You're sitting beside Max, your boyfriend and teammate, in the press conference room after the qualifying session in Singapore. The air feels thick with humidity and tension, though most of the tension is radiating off Max.

His latest penalty from the FIA—a fine and community service for swearing —has him fuming. He made it very clear on the way in that he wasn’t going to play nice. Today was going to be a day of vague, shady responses, and you were more than happy to back him up.

The moderator starts with the usual question for Max about how he felt securing P2.

“It was fine,” Max replies, voice completely flat. No elaboration, no typical analysis. Just that.

The reporter stares at him, clearly expecting more, but Max leans back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly as if daring anyone to push him further.

To your right, Lando is barely holding it together, his mouth twitching as he watches the whole scene unfold. You catch his eye and he shoots you a look like, Is this real?

The next question is directed at you. Something predictable about how you’re feeling being P3, your thoughts on tomorrow’s race strategy.

“Well,” you start, raising an eyebrow, “I guess the plan is… to go fast and not crash.”

There’s an awkward silence in the room, the journalist blinking at you as if he didn’t hear you correctly. Lando makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a cough, struggling to contain himself as you sit there, completely straight-faced.

“And the tire strategy?” the moderator presses, trying to steer things back into something vaguely professional.

“Use them until they wear out, I suppose.” You lean back in your chair, mimicking Max’s posture, crossing your legs casually as if you’ve just given a perfectly reasonable answer. Max looks at you with a cocky and proud smile, you discretely wink at him.

"Max, can you elaborate on your car's performance today?" another reporter tries.

Max tilts his head, considering for a moment. "It went forward when I pushed the pedal, and stopped when I hit the brakes. Very efficient, really."

You can't help but smirk at his response, and you notice Lando has given up on maintaining composure, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

The moderator, looking increasingly uncomfortable, turns to you again. "YN, how do you feel about potentially challenging your teammate for position tomorrow?"

You lean forward, adopting a serious expression. "Well, I've been told it's important to keep things clean on track. Wouldn't want to use any… inappropriate maneuvers."

"Absolutely. We're all about clean racing now. Very family-friendly." Max adds

The reporters exchange glances, clearly unsure how to handle this united front of sarcasm and vague responses. Lando, meanwhile, has resorted to covering his face with his hands, his shoulders visibly shaking with suppressed laughter.

As the press conference draws to a close, you and Max stand up together, your body language mirroring each other's. Before leaving, you turn to the room with a final statement:

"Just want to thank everyone for their thoughtful questions today. This has been a very enlightening experience. Almost as enlightening as some recent FIA decisions."

As you exit the room, hand in hand with Max, you can hear the burst of chatter from the journalists behind you, no doubt trying to decipher the subtext of your responses. Lando catches up with you in the hallway, finally letting out the laugh he's been holding in.

"You two are unbelievable," he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "I thought I was going to lose it in there!"

Max grins, his earlier tension now replaced with a sense of satisfaction. "Well, we aim to entertain," he says, giving your hand a squeeze.