#zoom loom

[guardevoir]

Fiber arts update! Featuring handspun and pin loom shenanigans!

Remember this stuff?

Left-to-right: 6-ply 50/50 silk/polwarth, 3-ply 60/20/20 polwarth/silk/yak, 4-ply silk/polwarth (same stuff as the 6-ply) and 4-ply 70/30 merino/silk. Made a scarf out of it.

And, well, I ended up with some leftovers! A very awkward amount of leftovers, not quite enough for anything, but too much to just leave lying about, especially because this is the good stuff.

So I figured I'd weave a bunch of pin loom squares, see if it's enough for something. Picked out a cowl to make halfway through.

I then promptly realized that I was gonna come up short by a decent amount of squares because I didn't have as much blue left as I thought... but I did have the same fiber in a similar colorway on my spindle!

(old photo, I had about 13g of fiber on that thing by that point)

I thusly guesstimated that I must've spun up about half of it, and quickly got the other half done on my wheel. Two-plied it, then cabled it, expecting that to be a pretty decent match to the other 50/50 4-ply silk mix.

It was not a decent match. The other blue shit is somewhere between sport and dk.

But thankfully I'm resourceful:

Most of the white squares have 4-ply warp and 6-ply weft for some texture and a denser weave; I did two of the blue ones with the 4-ply white stuff too to stretch the blue a little further, and for the more purple-ish ones, I ended up doubling the yarn for the weft, which means they had a 4-ply warp and an 8-ply weft. We're not even gonna talk about that gray/white square.

(4-ply/6-ply square in progress):

Sewed it up and felted it a fair bit, for more sturdiness and a more cohesive fabric:

And here's the finished thing, modelled by the resident giant owl plushie:

If you're wondering, the colors are laid out like that because I wanted the softer yak hair mix in the back, where it'd be touching my nape, because I'm super super sensitive to textures there and the merino/silk mix is a bit rougher. In the meantime, this also lets me have all the fun colors at the front. Win/win!

Anyway, this was fun. I always feel kinda dodgy just whipstitching the loops together because it never seems to quite fully come together... but I really enjoyed the process here, the end product is wonderful, and I am eager for more.

[thatdamnsweater]

pin/zoom loom...... lots of patterns for little animals... but is it accessible for a visually impaired person?

[froginninjago]

Day 101: More Wobbly Hearts Fanart

@ninja-knox-ur-sox-off

I read this scene and immediately started drawing, I haven't even finished the chapter yet.

This is a bit more detailed than I can usually get out because my afternoon plans were cancelled, but still not my best. I'll get you something really detailed one of these days

[skitskatdacat63]

Also the way Mark was standing while talking to Oscar is very important to me

[z0mbride]

me and me giving the drag king im in love with literally every bit of cash in my wallet

[fereldanwench]

god today has been an emotional rollercoaster

[askbloatedbellyblog]

It's been one episode of Bucchigiri and I already have thoughts.

[thesaltyace]

When you do Zoom dinner with friends in another state and you're telling them about stuff going on in your life in Texas and not really thinking much of it...

And then they go "Hey if you ever need to leave Texas in a hurry, just start driving and give us a text or call whenever you can. Even if you show up in the middle of the night you're welcome to stay with us while you figure things out."

On one hand that's very very kind and we're very grateful to know that they would shelter us if needed.

On the other hand, it's now got me thinking that Texas must look way more horrific from the outside because we're just used to living inside the nightmare and don't realize how bad it is.

[irukasenseii]

Let's see if I can beat the storm home 👍

[mtkmsp]

Tsst! Tsst is one of my favorite episodes in the show--and to be honest, Liane and Eric's relationship is one of my favorites to think about in general, so I really, really wanted to make something for it. It ended up as sort of a psychological horror-style movie poster, which I posted for Halloween on Twitter, haha. A bit more info below!

I love what this episode gives us about Liane and how lonely she is--how badly she needs a friend and tries to find it in Eric. More than a friend, she wants easy love, she wants the illusion of inconditional love by caving into his every want and need. The whole part about Eric's inner struggles is fantastic as well, and I tried to hint at it in the poster, but what I mostly wanted to show was this sort of... never ending spiral of dragging each other down. If I had to animate this, I'd zoom out continuously, having one big Liane above one big Eric etc etc. Because they just keep looming above one another, Liane feeding into Eric's worst sides (that she helped nurture in the first place) and Eric terrorizing Liane. She created and trapped herself with her own demon, and while victim of it, Eric himself won't let her go, won't let their dynamic die either (as seen in City People.) I'd go on a big ramble about PC Eric after that but I'm too lazy to type all of that out and other people have formulated all that much better than I have already, soo... maybe some other time haha. Here is the first version I made of the poster, which was inaccurate in terms of characterization but matched my initial idea more closely.

[spaceistheplaceart]

when the trailer for HL2VRAI first came out ppl were hoping for Mira to play alyx and while i dont really care who plays her, ive always wanted to animate something for the idea :)

Audio Source

ID UNDER CUT

BEGIN ID:

A black and white sketchy animatic.

Gordon looks down apologetically.

Gordon: "I-I dunno. I'll like, do something to make that up to y'all. Like, in real life-"

He looks up and smiles nervously.

Alyx shoves him. She has a bandana across her forehead, fingerless gloves, a short vest, and a ripped sleeveless hoodie. She grins deviously at him and pokes his chest.

Alyx: "Give me that flashlight! Drop it! Right now!"

She tries to yank the front panel off the HEV suit, shown through her vibrating rapidly as he fingers are curled under the plating. Benrey comes in from the left and puts a hand on Gordon's shoulder, staring at him. Benrey does not have a helmet and his shadow/hair covers half his head. He is wearing a jumpsuit and has a sparse mustache.

Benrey: "Yeah, give me everything you have.

Gordon bursts out laughing, causing Alyx and Benrey to fall back. Alyx grips the ladder next to them for balance. The camera zooms out to show they are in an alleyway with posters on the walls, the ladder, and a dumpster. Bubby is sitting on the dumpster.

Gordon puts his gun arm over his face like a facepalm and hands Benrey his crowbar.

Gordon: "Yes, sir!"

Gordon gives Alyx a pistol, which is shown through him 'holding' it out with his gun arm and a menu above them that shows his arsenal. He gives her the pistol, then a grenade.

Gordon: "Yes, sir!"

The grenade drops and explodes, resulting in an ear ringing sound effect. Bubby has his hands over his face and exclaims in pain. Coomer pokes his head out of the dumpster.

Gordon puts his head against the wall, bracing himself against it as Alyx laughs. Benrey is rubbing his eyes. There is an explosion mark between Alyx and Gordon, where the grenade dropped.

Cut to a little later. Alyx shoves Gordon to the ground.

Alyx: "Jump him! You got any change in your pockets?"

She looms over him then leans down, grinning and tauntingly cocking her head.

Alyx: "CHUMP? BITCH?"

An image of Pepe the Frog on the floor of a McDonalds, all his food spilled out pathetically with his eyes tearing up is shown- but edited so that it's wearing glasses and the HEV suit to resemble Gordon.

Gordon: "No-"

The Pepe image is gone, replaced with a drawing of Gordon on the ground, looking up as Alyx and Benrey's shadows come into view. His mouth is wobbly and he's got big wet pathetic eyes.

Alyx kicks Gordon while he lays down, Benrey smacks him with the crowbar. Laughing and hitting sound effects are heard.

The screen goes black for a second.

Alyx points forward, yelling with her hand on her hip.

Alyx: "HEY, GOON!"

It's shown that Alyx is speaking to Gordon, who has his arms dangling in front of him and looking up at Alyx wimpily. They are in a junkyard. Alyx jabs her thumb to the right.

Alyx: "Go find me some scrap!"

Gordon sulks off.

Gordon: "Yes, ma'am."

Alyx crosses her arms with a smug smile as Coomer laughs in the background.

END ID

[chris-prank]

Home video

Oneshot

Yandere Ceo x GN Reader

CW: NSFW, Dubious consent of sending nudes, masturbation and anal fingering

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

Esteban was trapped in a loop. Sitting at his desk, he tried to the best of his abilities to be productive, but quickly the thought of you filled his every thought. So he would take his phone once again, his finger looming over your name in his contact list. Each time, his conscience ended up taking over and he would throw his phone as far as possible on his desk, as if he had been suddenly electrocuted.

He had promised to stop calling or texting you every chance he got. He wanted to prove that he was putting in a lot of effort to get better. So, after dropping the source of his internal torment, the man tried to focus again on his computer, only for the cycle to continue. 

***

He was so proud of himself as he got home that night. He did it! He succeeded in not compulsively contacting you! Esteban could already hear all the praises and words of encouragement you will give him for being such a good boy. 

He waited and waited. The more time passed by the more his excited expression morphed his face into a worried one. You usually answered his text around this hour, so what was taking you so long?!

***

You felt bad. You truly did.

You knew that Esteban was working really hard to control his clingy and obsessive attitude towards you. So you felt your heart dropped when you realized you didn’t respond to his text at the end of your shift. But guilt quickly turned into curiosity when you saw that he had sent you a video one hour after you didn’t respond to his initial message. It had been sent fairly recently and under it was written “Ready for round 2?”.  

The thumbnail was already giving away the content of the recording, even if you try to convince yourself that it couldn’t be that. On it was Esteban, shirtless with his arms out of view of the camera, probably to put it in place. You hesitantly pressed the play button after sitting down on the couch. 

There were some movements paired with slight zooms before he seemed happy with his setup. Esteban walked away from the camera to get into the frame. Lowering his head onto the bed, he arched his back and spread his leg open. His movements were way too deliberate and precise for not to have been planned. 

Despite Esteban’s face being pressed into the mattress, you could still see his lovesick eyes glaring at the camera. It’s like he was directly looking at you. All of his private parts were on full display, giving him an extra vulnerable look in that position. He swayed his hips sensually from side to side, his hard cock following the movement. If you zoomed in, you would have noticed the small drops of precum dripping from the slit and how red his tip was. 

“I-I've been good for you all day… but… you didn’t answer and I just couldn’t wait anymore.” He whined, “You need to know how much I’ve missed you.”

One of his hands went between his legs as he spoke, grabbed onto his cock and he started stroking it. The other one gripped the sheets while slutty moans left his mouth. He looked like he was milking himself and now that you thought about it— he would look really good in a sexy cow outfit.

“I wish you were here Mmmf… with me. So you a-ah could… huff… you could reward m-me.” 

Esteban sped up the pumping motion on his dick as he spoke, all the while he tried to move his hips to hump his hand. 

“I’m just a… Nnnf… slut. Ah! I just Ngh… want to be fucked by yo—” He had bitten his lips, the wave of pleasure making it hard for him to speak. 

You swore you saw his asshole open slightly and clench onto nothing. Your intuition was answered to be right as his left hand tentatively brushed against the curve of his ass to finger himself. Since Esteban didn’t have anything to hold his weight anymore, his face got pressed even more into the mattress. His words and moans were coming out partially muffled because of it. 

“I want Aaah… I want you so badl— Ngggh.” 

His finger successfully found his asshole and had begun circling the entrance. It didn’t take long before Esteban pushed two fingers inside, not wanting to waste any more time. It went in with such ease that you suspected him to have lubed it in advance. 

Unconsciously, both of his hands started to move at the same paste in a rhythmic pattern. When he would stroke back to the base of his dick, his other hand would pull out of his hole. Then the same thing would happen again, but in reverse. 

He looked adorable when his eyes rolled back as the combination of sensations coming from both his ass and cock was getting too much for his poor brain. It was also getting harder for you to comprehend what he was babbling out, but you rejoiced in the sounds he made nonetheless.

His movements became more messy. In this hazed state he had to force his fingers out of him to focus both of his hands on his dick instead. Esteban gripped his shaft and started making a tight twisting motion, pulling additional moans from him. His body was covered in sweat with all the effort he was putting into this private little show, for your pretty eyes only. 

You knew that it was all a sign that he was inching closer and closer to release, and you were soon proven to be correct. You knew your good boy well after all. 

“I’m Mmm gon’ c-cum—”

He cried out your name in a high-pitched whine as he came, coating his stomach and the sheets with thick ropes of cum. He bucked a few more times in his hands, before gradually slowing down his movements. 

"Aaaah…Ngh... n-nngh..."

He lay motionless for a few seconds, except for the occasional shudder of his legs. He painfully got up, every one of his movements seemed slowed down. When he got closer to the camera, you could finally see his messed up face in all its glory. He had drool leaking down his chin, his cheeks were red as if he got slapped and you could see traces of dry tears on his skin. He gave you a weak smile, then the video stopped.

You were left there, in the complete silence of your room, after witnessing the most toe curling video of all time. You slowly clicked on the call option while getting ready. This was going to be a long night. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I hope this satisfied the thirst of the Esteban simps 😌

[charliemwrites]

Part 7 is finally here! I only gave this a quick look over so if there are any glaring issues (like a random cut off sentence) please let me know! I was just so excited to get this one out.

Content: Brandon.

For all the power and influence it has amassed, SpecGru is a notoriously discreet and secretive operation. Mind, no one’s ever strolling down the street shouting their criminal affiliations for God and everyone to hear, but even by criminal standards, SpecGru is like a collective boogeyman. By the time most anyone knows they’re there, it’s already too late – and the rare (verbal) survivors only ever see masks and guns.

Granted, no small part of SpecGru’s prestige comes from whispered stories and unconfirmed rumors. Criminals are locker room gossips, the lot of them. Not that it’s completely unfounded. An execution is an execution, whether someone died with all their teeth and nails or not. (Usually not)

Few people know Price as more than a shadowy theoretical. (Someone must be in charge, that’s how the mafia works.) Even fewer know his face, never mind his name. It’s just good business that way.

In fact, SpecGru’s entire inner circle is shrouded in mystery. There’s not just the gray silhouette of the Don looming over their enemies’ heads. There are the lieutenants to contend with as well, acting on his direct authority, speaking on his behalf (with permission, of course) in his absence.

And then there’s Price’s right hand, the de facto boss should something happen. His heir, for all intents and purposes.

For those that have met Price in person, and by extension his few but devoted confidants, there’s always debate.

Is it Soap, loud and brash, but sharp as a whip? A decisive man, affable with a hidden mean streak?

Or is it Ghost, the quiet and calculating figure always at his side? A deadly and brutal enemy, shrewd and observant?

Kyle lets them stew in their assumptions and reminds himself that they’ll learn eventually – or they’ll be dead. He’s not fussed either way. It would suit SpecGru just fine if a few of those knobs keeled over sooner rather than later.

If only they knew that the hand that would one day grip their leashes was currently holding your purse so that you could pet a cute dog.

Not that Kyle minds; you have good taste. In purses, that is – though the dog isn’t half bad. A fluffy white and grey thing with a stumpy tail, practically crawling onto your pretty blue skirt as you coo and fawn. He started recording the minute you handed him your bag. (Price owes him for this.)

“His name is Mister Beans,” the uni girl enthuses to you.

You practically sob. “Mister Beans!”

He’s loath to hurry you along, but he’s supposed to meet up with Price for a Business meeting in only a half hour. Thankfully, you’re a considerate sort and don’t linger for long.

“Thank you so much, have a great day!” you cheer to the young woman. Then you turn back to Kyle, smiling huge. “Wasn’t he so cute?”

He chuckles. “It was. Wish I could have pet him, but white hair on this suit…”

You hum sympathetically. “I have a lint roller in my apartment.”

“I’ll scratch the next one,” he promises, offering your purse back.

You take it with your far hand and another mumbled “thank you,” then loop your closer arm through his. Don’t even seem to think about it, just accept the escort automatically. Kyle tries not to beam with pride. He used to have to prompt you, holding his elbow out at an awkward angle for you to get the hint. Now, you reach for the arm of whoever you’re with on instinct – as you should. (Another thing Price owes him for.)

“Do you like little dogs?” you ask, strolling with him for your apartment.

In the office, you’re a speedy little thing. Zooming from your desk to Price’s and back at velocity deserving of a ticket. Soap calls you a busy bee and it’s apt. Fluttering to and fro with stacks of papers or your tablet (“Reginald” you call it) everyone knows to make way at the click-click of your smart heels.

Outside, though, your purposeful stride slows to something less awe-inspiringly machinelike. Little Miss at work is a much different creature from Little Miss off the clock – but Kyle quite likes both.

“My mum had a little white dog while I was growing up. Crusty old thing,” he explains. “Prefer medium sized myself. Like a corgi.”

You giggle. “Like the royal family?”

“Oi, I liked ‘em before that.”

You just laugh harder at his defensive tone, patting his arm. He’s always impressed by how fearlessly you joke and tease him and the others. Have taken everything in stride from the beginning, didn’t even flinch when you first met Simon. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you had no idea just who you arched your eyebrows at this morning because of a “scheduling disagreement.”

“Speaking of dogs…” you mutter, mirth disappearing.

He follows your gaze through the clear glass of the building’s entry vestibule. Your ex is standing inside, already spotted you and fluffing up like the cock he is.

“Mind keeping back, doll?” Kyle murmurs.

You make a noise of protest even as you hand him your keys. “He’s not going to do anything after what Soap did.”

There’s an ugly black cast around his hand and up his wrist. Kyle smirks at him through the door.

“Rather not take any chances,” he replies.

You huff a bit, but quietly slip your arm from his, letting him take the lead into the building. (He still holds the door for you of course – he’s not a numpty.)

“Get the fuck out, mate,” Kyle says as soon as the door opens.

Brandon looks downright taken aback. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” you interrupt, stepping up beside Kyle.

“The hell it’s not!” Brandon replies, taking an angry (stupid) step forward. Kyle mirrors him, making a point of loosening up his shoulders. In a surprising display of good sense, Brandon stops there. “Look, bunny, a high-value man needs a high-value woman.”

Your voice comes out flat and unimpressed. “And that’s you, is it? A high-value man?

Brandon rolls his eyes but sighs, as if he’s trying to be patient with you. Kyle’s fingers twitch. His piece is burning a hole against his back.

“Obviously. I have a degree, a six-figure salary, and two properties – all under forty. I’m objectively attractive, work out regularly, don’t smoke. I’m a good catch, don’t kid yourself that you can do better.”

At Kyle’s elbow, you go very still. The type of still that precedes blood and screaming. He’s seen it in Ghost before.

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tongue dripping acid. “Since you’re such a catch.”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, trying for fond exasperation and only achieving constipated.

“I’m not willing to just throw away two years. I’ve invested a lot in this relationship, and we can still make it work.” It actually starts to make Kyle nauseous, the way he talks about you like a business decision. “I mean, you have some things to make up for but eventually, we can go back to the way we were.”

“And what,” you say through gritted teeth, consonants sharp enough to pierce skin, “do I have to make up for?”

Kyle listens, flabbers absolutely gasted, as Brandon answers.

“You ran off to play desk bunny for a man I don’t know. God only knows what ‘favor’ you did to land that job. You’ve lowered your value as a marriable woman but there are ways to make it up to me—”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kyle’s ears ring like the first time he heard his mum curse.

Brandon looks taken aback too. You don’t give either of them a chance to respond.

“I know it’s not fucking me. Because if you were talking to me, you’d be stupider than you look.”

Brandon’s face flushes with anger. He takes another step forward. Kyle takes two in return, shaking his head in warning. Unfortunately, Brandon doesn’t know how to read his face any better than yours.

“C’mon, mate, it’s common sense. A lock that opens for any key and all that.”

Kyle’s heard it before. “Women ain’t locks, mate.”

“If you don’t get out of this building right fucking now, I will ruin your life,” you snarl.

Brandon does a double take. “Is that a threat? You can’t—"

“You bet your pasty ass it is,” you reply without missing a beat. You raise your voice every time he tries to interrupt, barreling through his weak protest like a train. “Fifteen fucking minutes. That’s all it would take to destroy you, your stupid sister, your bitchy mother, your pervert father, and that fucking slag you got pregnant twice.”

Kyle’s eyebrows rise with each word until he’s fairly certain they’ve floated up to the ceiling somewhere.

Brandon, though… Brandon’s face is ashen.

“How… how did you…?”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

Kyle doesn’t give him the option to refuse. He scruffs Brandon by the back of his bland suit and shoves him out the first door of the vestibule. It closes and locks just as he turns around, a rebuttal finally juddering to his bloodless lips. You haven’t even turned to watch him go.

Kyle approaches you feeling a bit like he does coming to Price with shit news when he’s already pissed.

He almost says, you sure know how to pick ‘em – but thinks better of it. There’s practically frost forming beneath your feet, the air around you is icy.

“Walk you up, little miss?” he asks, offering his arm.

You gently take his arm and exhale heavily. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

You invite him in at your door. Your hands are shaking a bit. He politely accepts, shooting Price the others a text that he’ll be a bit late. He’s not about to leave you in a state.

As usual, you step out of your shoes at the door, leaving you in your shimmery stockings, then pad to the kitchen.

“Tea?” you ask as he follows.

“I haven’t the time, doll, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re alright before heading out.”

You turn, expression softening. Just like that, you’re back to your usual self, sweet as honey.

“I’ll be alright, I think,” you reply, sighing. “That was a long time coming.”

He leans his shoulder in the doorway, unable to help chuckling at the memory of your ex’s gobsmacked expression. The corners of your mouth curl up in shy amusement.

“Seemed like it,” he replies. “We should weaponize those f-bombs you dropped.”

That coaxes a giggle out. “Graves would be first on my list.”

“The boss’s too.” And oh, Kyle can’t wait to tell Price about this. (As if he needed another reason to hate Brandon and adore you.)

“Christ,” you groan, “you’re going to tell him about this, aren’t you?”

He’s at least able to muster an apologetic grimace. “You know I have to, sweets.”

“Suppose I’ll get the really good tea tomorrow,” you muse.

“He liked those pistachio scones from the corner café, too.”

You light up. It just so happens that they bake your favorite muffins too. “Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

You snort, but there’s a fond smile on your face. Regretfully, he notes the time on the stove clock behind you.

“You’re sure you’re alright here by yourself?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you promise, crossing to give him a warm hug. “I lock the door and windows like Simon told me.”

“Atta girl,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Seven sharp!” you chirp.

He pauses at the door, “You call if there’s any trouble.”

You poke your head around the corner. “You don’t sign my paychecks; you can’t tell me what to do.”

He points right back at you. “That’s from the bossman direct.”

“Then he can tell me himself.”

He arches his brows. You blink.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

He chokes back a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, little miss.”

“Get home safe, Kyle!”

As far as business meetings go, one with Los Vaqueros is almost pleasant. Sure, they always try to overprice their products, but haggling them down is practically a game between Price and Vargas by now. The shipping agreement between them and SpecGru is long established by now, a major link in the international arms market.

“Negotiations” are relaxed enough that Rudy and Valeria are playing cards with Ghost and Soap at the sitting table, whiskey glasses at their elbows. The plan for the next six months is all but set when Price suddenly jerks. In an instant, his face goes dark, shoulders tense.

“Something wrong, hermano?” Vargas asks.

“I’m getting a call.”

Soap and Ghost snap to attention.

There are only a handful of people that can reach Price during a meeting. All but one is in this room.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Kyle sees your name on the screen.

“Yes, love?” he answers.

Even from a couple feet away, Kyle can hear your voice through the receiver – high and panicked. Kyle’s already reaching for his keys.

“He fucking what?” Price barks.

Soap and Ghost jump to their feet, cards and drinks forgotten.

“Barricade the door, get a knife. We’ll be right there.”

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Masterlist

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : FALLING FOR THE SPOTLIGHT (PT.2) : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: RPF

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After a successful first interview, you return for a follow-up meeting with Hugh Jackman, where you're introduced to his colleagues and learn more about the job responsibilities. Hugh's relaxed, charming demeanor puts you at ease, and you begin to sense a growing personal connection through light banter and subtle physical touches. After a detailed discussion about the role, he ends the meeting with a playful promise to be in touch. Days later, Hugh calls with the news that you've been hired. As the conversation ends, you realize the dynamic between you is already evolving beyond just professional boundaries.

Previous Part | Next Part

A FEW DAYS HAD PASSED SINCE THE INITIAL INTERVIEW, and now you found yourself standing outside Hugh’s office building, nerves fluttering in your stomach. The bright, towering structure loomed above, its sleek, modern design reflecting the sun’s rays, adding to your growing anticipation. This was the second interview—or more of a follow-up meeting—but it felt just as important as the first.

The fluttering in your stomach intensified as you thought back to your first interaction with Hugh. That interview had taken place over Zoom, and though it wasn’t in person, you still remembered how strangely surreal it had felt to see Hugh Jackman, the Hugh Jackman, sitting casually on your computer screen, chatting with you like he wasn’t a global superstar. He had been so relaxed, cracking jokes and leaning back in his chair, but underneath it all, you could tell he was assessing you just as carefully as you were trying to keep your nerves in check.

Now, a few days later, you were about to meet him face-to-face for the first time—and meet his colleagues and learn more about the actual job you’d be doing if hired. Despite the casualness Hugh had projected during the Zoom call, there was no mistaking the seriousness of the opportunity.

Steeling yourself, you straightened your outfit and pushed open the large glass door, stepping into the spacious lobby. The air inside was cool and calm, a stark contrast to the rush of cars and pedestrians outside. The receptionist greeted you warmly as you walked in, her smile genuine, putting you at ease. She quickly pointed you toward the elevator, her voice cheerful yet professional. You were almost grateful for her upbeat tone; it helped distract from the gnawing anxiety building in your chest.

The elevator ride felt longer than it was, the numbers blinking one by one until finally, the doors opened with a soft chime on the top floor. As they parted, you immediately spotted Hugh waiting for you, leaning casually against the wall, hands stuffed into his pockets. His posture was effortlessly relaxed, but his eyes, sparkling with their usual warmth, caught yours instantly.

"Good to finally see you in person!" he said, his voice full of energy as though he was genuinely excited to see you. His broad grin was infectious, and for a moment, it felt like greeting an old friend. “Ready for the grand tour?”

You smiled back, trying to keep your cool despite the excitement bubbling under the surface. "Absolutely. Lead the way."

Hugh pushed off the wall and began walking beside you as you both moved through the corridors of the office. Each step felt surreal. He pointed out different areas, explaining what each team did—from the assistants coordinating his calendar, to the managers negotiating deals, to the creative team brainstorming new projects. As you passed by, you noticed that everyone seemed busy, yet there was a palpable sense of camaraderie. The office hummed with a creative energy that felt contagious.

At one point, you passed by a cozy-looking lounge, and Hugh, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, quipped, "This is where all the serious thinking happens. You’ll find most of the best ideas are born out of caffeine-fueled brainstorming sessions on those couches."

You laughed, his humor easing your nerves. "Noted. I’ll keep that in mind."

As the tour progressed, you found yourself becoming more relaxed, caught up in the playful atmosphere Hugh seemed to effortlessly create. He cracked jokes constantly, tossing in little quips that had you smiling and laughing along. It was hard not to get swept up in his charm. The more you saw of the office, the more real the possibility of working with him became, and the more your initial nervousness turned into genuine excitement.

“And this,” Hugh stopped in front of a glass-walled office, “is where the magic happens.” He opened the door with a flourish, gesturing for you to follow him inside. “It’s not quite as glamorous as you might think, but hey, I try.”

You chuckled as you stepped inside, taking in the space. Hugh’s office was sleek yet personal, a balance of professionalism and lived-in charm. One wall was lined with shelves holding neatly organized scripts, awards gleaming in the soft lighting, and framed photos capturing moments from his career and personal life. The desk, massive and dark wood, was centered in front of a large window that overlooked the city skyline. It was both intimidating and cozy, a reflection of the man himself.

Hugh moved behind the desk, casually sitting on the edge rather than in the chair. “So, what do you think? Not too bad, right?”

You nodded, smiling as you took in the view from the window. "I’d say it’s more than just 'not bad.’ This is a great space."

He grinned, clearly pleased with your reaction. “It’s nice, yeah. Though, if I’m being honest, I spend way too little time in here. I’m usually on the go. You’ll probably see more of this place than I do if you take the job.”

Before you could respond, a knock on the door pulled your attention back. Kyle, one of Hugh’s employees, popped his head in, a tall, lanky figure with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He seemed slightly awkward, like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave, hovering in the doorway longer than necessary. “Hey, Hugh, just wanted to check if you were free later to go over the schedule for next week.”

Hugh waved him in, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor. His smile remained, but there was a slight tightness to it, a flicker of something unspoken. "Kyle, come meet our new potential superstar assistant," he said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something else. “We’re still deciding if we like her.”

You shot Hugh a mock glare. “I’m still deciding if I like the boss.”

Kyle chuckled politely, but the sound was hollow, like he was just going through the motions. "Well, if you survive Hugh’s jokes, you’ll do great here,” he said, glancing between the two of you. “I’ll come back later, don’t want to interrupt.”

As Kyle left, Hugh watched him go with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place—like he liked the guy well enough, but there was some underlying tension. Once the door closed, Hugh leaned back in his chair, his body language relaxing again. “Kyle’s a good guy,” he said with a shrug, though his words felt more like an obligatory statement than genuine praise. “You two will probably get along well.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the story with Kyle than Hugh was letting on. There was something off, like Hugh respected him but didn’t fully trust him. You made a mental note of it, wondering if it would come up again later.

“I hope so,” you replied, feeling a small flicker of hope, but also uncertainty. You weren’t just thinking about getting along with Kyle—you were really hoping you’d start to fit in with everyone. The idea of working alongside a close-knit team, with Hugh at the helm, was starting to feel more real and more exciting with every minute.

"So, what exactly would I be doing if I get the job?" you asked, your curiosity finally getting the better of you.

Hugh launched into a more detailed explanation, outlining your responsibilities. Managing his schedule, coordinating meetings with different teams, handling travel logistics for upcoming events—basically, keeping everything running smoothly behind the scenes. As he spoke, you noticed how easy it was to talk with him. There was a comfort to the way he described the workload, as if it were just the beginning of a more relaxed, ongoing conversation. Even though the tasks sounded demanding, his casual, approachable demeanor made it all feel more manageable.

“Sometimes, if things are hectic, you’ll have to be on the move with me,” he added, leaning in slightly as he spoke, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “But I promise I’m not as high-maintenance as people think.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

He laughed, the sound rich and full. “Fair enough.” As he chuckled, you noticed small moments of contact—his hand brushing yours when he passed you a document, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours as he leaned over to show you something on his laptop. Each touch felt intentional yet casual, like something more was lingering beneath the surface. It wasn’t just friendly or professional anymore. The energy between you two was undeniably shifting, but neither of you addressed it, as if both of you were content letting it hang in the air.

The meeting eventually wound down, and as you both stood, Hugh walked you back to the elevator. “Well, that’s the tour,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” you replied, matching his tone, though the butterflies in your stomach had become less about nerves and more about the lingering possibility of what this opportunity could lead to—both professionally and personally.

~

A few days later, you were at home, lazily scrolling through emails when your phone rang. The caller ID flashed Hugh’s name, and despite yourself, a small smile crept onto your face as you answered.

"Hey there!" Hugh’s voice came through, chipper and upbeat. “So, I’ve got some news about the job.”

Your heart raced, bracing for the inevitable either way. “Oh?”

“Yeah… you didn’t get it,” Hugh said, his voice adopting a somber tone. “We decided to go for someone else.”

Your stomach plummeted, the disappointment hitting hard. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, you heard a low chuckle on the other end.

“Kidding!” Hugh’s laughter filled your ear, and you felt an immediate wave of relief, though your heart was still pounding. “You’ve got the job. I’d be a fool not to hire you.”

A breathless laugh escaped you as the tension melted away. “That was cruel, Hugh!”

“Wasn’t it, though? But come on, I had to see how you’d handle the pressure,” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.

“Well, I guess I survived.”

“Barely,” he joked. “But really, I’m excited. I think we’re going to get along just fine, you and I.”

“I think so too, Hugh,” you replied, your voice warm, trying not to let him hear the smile that was undoubtedly spreading across your face.

The conversation ended with more playful banter, but as you hung up, the weight of the moment hit you. Not only had you landed the job, but the undercurrent of something more between you and Hugh—the light teasing, the subtle touches—seemed to hint at something beyond just a professional relationship. It was undeniable, and the more you thought about it, the more you felt it: things between you and Hugh were already evolving into something deeper, something you were both cautiously exploring.

And now, with the news of being his new personal assistant in the air, it seemed like this was only the beginning.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @hughverine @junnniiieee07 @stark-ironman @marcswife21 @boomveronika @kellyxo1 @shiawaseorii @shybluebirdninja @mutilatedcupid @corvusmorte @iluvfanficsstuff @stickyunknownsubstance @miha080 @acescutejeans-1247 @ladydimitrecutlou @iwannadie07 @whimsiwitchy @bitchydragonparadisee @imagineinside @seasonofthenerd @2fatblunt @spideybv28 @haytchee @skylinesadness @mega-kittyglitter-1 @white-wolf-buckaroo @dinosaurluminary @larkkyoris @narjuko @wolviesgirl @lovingyeet @addelal

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

I also wanna thank everyone for all the comments on the first chapter! It makes me so happy to see you guys are loving it so far!

-

Check out this Logan Howlett smutty oneshot here:

Logan Howlett ➝ Bound By Desire

[emacrow]

Robin met Nekomata

Previous original plot

Batman have been getting heist reports committed for the past 3 months all jewelry related along with cat themes ones.

Batman had check and rechecked 17 times in the vide surveillance camera and only see a glitchy mesh of some glowing green cat slits eyes before statics and then the jewelries goes missing without triggering any alarms in seconds..

Batman had Robin after they searched through most of Catwomens hideouts, only getting lucky on the 9th one ironically.

Selina was viewing a beautiful ancient vase of a cat made with pure Green Jade with a glee in her eyes before Batman and Robin smashed down from the glass ceiling of the warehouse.

"Catwomen." Bruce said looming menacing in his batsuit. Robin on guard in the back taking in the sight before him.

"Aw, Batman~ what a purrrrrrfect surprise to see you again~." Selina said smiling with her black lipstick gleaming a bit, gently putting down the jade vase back into the comfy cushioned containment wooden box.

Robin could see a numerous of cat related jewelry was almost overwhelming behind selina, but then something didn't seem right before Robin noticed a tiny bundle of blankets and a NASA rocket ship.

Before he could tell batman about what he observed, he was suddenly slammed into the blind side on the left, before he could wack whoever slammed into with his boa, it was missing from his hands..

And the culprit was zooming at top speed in front of Selina.

It was a meta toddler holding his Boa with two tails .., with the most excited face as if he was about to bounce off the walls.

"I see you met my newest stray, Nekomata~. You did a great job hun." Selina said petting the little cat like boy who was purring louder then motor.

Robin has several questions as he trying not to mentally adopt the cat like meta child. (But it a cat, and cats are animals and he wanna know badly where he can get one of those or somehow steal Bruce adoption forms to bribe selina into keeping that precious kitty right there)

[seichv]

❛ WITH YOUR MOUTH.❜

clean up after yourself when you make a mess. 2.3k words.

contents: nsfw content (mdni), f!reader, daddy kink (mentioned like once), oral (both receiving), p in v, creampie, squirting, toji calls you: brat, sweetheart, slut, baby, etc.

note: i have risen from the dead friends ;D seriously though, its been a while since ive written... life's been wild of late and i was lacking motivation but im back on my zoom now hehe (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

you might have fucked up.

down spills the coffee that you chucked at toji, the brawny man standing motionless with a look of amusement as the hot liquid poured down his body, the sound of the cup tumbling onto the ground echoing in the kitchen. what exactly led to that? you may ask. quite frankly, you don’t even remember. it was likely another one of those days where you had a stick up your ass just because; with your bratty attitude leading you to get all pissy about every little thing.

and here you are, your pupils dilating as you freeze in place while watching toji’s expression. it remains indifferent for the most part, as you would expect from someone like him. that’s until his eyes trail back up to meet your face, and there’s something about his gaze that just shifts in a way. you’re gulping, your body stiffening in alarm. there’s a faint chuckle that escapes his lips before he speaks up with that gravelly voice of his. 

“c’mere.” he tells you. you know better than to disregard him, so you start stepping closer to him. though just because you’re listening to him doesn't mean you’ll do away with the bitter expression you got going on, as it's still very prominently plastered onto your face. and these steps youre taking, they’re slow as fuck. you’re definitely mistaken if you think that he’s got the patience for that shit right now.

because of that, in a blink of an eye you’ve got your throat seized by one of his meaty hands, yanking you closer and forcing you to maintain eye contact. his figure looms over yours, and you can almost see some veins seeping through his neck. “you just had to pull that shit on me, huh?” you could practically just say that he’s spitting venom with the way he's speaking. you narrowed your eyes, sucking in a sharp breath before speaking. “well, had you not been a total jackass—” 

“yeah?” toji cuts you off, his face lowering some more as his head tilts to the side, giving your throat a little squeeze. you've got some real nerve with the back-talk, and he really isn't in the mood for tolerating that shit anymore. he looks down at his drenched, coffee-stained shirt, his tongue poking out to lick the scar at the corner of his mouth before he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh.

“clean up the motherfucking mess you made,” he says. now, that would initially give you the thought of wiping the ground with a towel or mop, and maybe doing him the favor of throwing his shirt in the laundry, right? 

“with your mouth.”

… wait, what?

your eyes go wide, and you're glaring up at the man like he’s got 10 heads. he doesn't look like he's joking, really. and that’s because he’s not. it takes you a hot minute before you could get words out of your mouth. “... huh? the fuck is wrong with you? clean the damn floor with my mouth?! what’s that supposed to mean, you gross bastard—”

“to hell with the fucking floor.” he interrupts. “i didn’t say nothin’ bout the floor, dumb brat.” toji adds, his fingers trailing up toward your jaw, taking your face in his hand as he turned it side to side as he spoke, as if he were trying to get your attention. i mean, there's only one other mess other than the one on the floor. the mess on him. before you could open your mouth to muster up a response, toji speaks again. “tch, yeah. keep staring at me like a dumb little girl,” your body temperature begins to soar with his words. “take off my shirt.”

you honestly cannot believe this man. you blink rapidly with furrowed eyebrows, stuttering like a broken record. “toji, what are you even going on about right now—” 

“nah, sweetheart. don’t give me that crap.” what is this, the 1000th fucking time this man has interrupted you? goddamnit. “take. off. the. shirt.” toji repeats himself, putting emphasis on each word like he’s talking to a complete moron. you started chuckling to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head with a look on your face that read, ‘he’s got to be kidding.’

“yeah, no. toji, give me a fucking break.” you responded, snickering between your words, and ooh toji was just itching to bend you over the damn counter and fuck you till you’re screaming… to get those vocal cords to rupture. there will never be a single day where he’d hesitate to get you to straighten the fuck up.

before you know it, both of toji’s hands grab your wrists, almost painfully. he then starts walking, backing you up to the kitchen counter. once he’s got you pushed up against it, he pulls your hands onto his abdomen, staring dangerously into your eyes.

though you wouldn't want to admit it, you can’t help but feel a growing ache between your legs at the feeling of those shredded abs of his. his body is something different. toji’s eyes flicker up and down from your hands and back to your eyes, a smug grin laying across his face at how small your hands are on his big, muscular body. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, your tough and bratty facade slowly diminishing as you leisurely began lifting toji’s shirt, a satisfied hum escaping his lips at your compliance; though it took rather longer than he wanted.

you now have got quite the nice look at his abs, and there goes the throbbing sensation again in your cunt. fuck… he’s hot. “yeahh, now you got that mouth shut, huh? drooling and gawking over my body. hah, go on then.” toji boasts, his teeth showing through that damn smirk. you’re unable to hold it in any longer, your hands dragging toji’s shirt up as he pulls his head out, letting the fabric drop to the ground with your stomach churning at the sight of his bare upper body. you quickly kneeled, your composure flying right out the window. 

your mouth latches onto his lower stomach, your tongue roaming along his skin. if your eyes peered a bit lower, you’d be able to get a peek at the growing bulge in toji’s sweats. you can hear slightly muted curses coming from under his breath, and you were being sloppy with it, your lashes batting as you looked up at him. your tongue started traveling upward, just barely reaching his chest until a grunt-like huff is let out from toji.

he now pulls you off by the hair, coaxing a small gasp for your lips. “fuck .. you’re putting that slutty mouth on my cock now.” he mutters, reaching for his pants before you take care of them for him, eagerly dragging them down along with his boxers, his girthy length springing right out.

without another second to waste, your tongue lolls out, one of your hands wrapped around the base of his dick while you slapped the tip on your wet muscle, drawing a throaty grunt from him. he loved it when you put on a show for him like that. you then take him all the way in, a nasty moan slipping from your throat at the way his big cock had given you a whole mouthful. saliva drips down from your lips, and you begin bobbing your head up and down, the lewd noises blaring in your ears. 

“shiiit… look at you. fuckin’ pacified by this dick, huh?” his voice is gruff yet slightly shaky, and god… you’re obsessed with hearing his noises, how you make him feel. “one minute she’s yappin’ like a bitchy little brat, next minute she’s mmf— taking this dick down her throat like a dirty slut... tch.” his words had your pussy leaking, you can feel your panties beginning to soak. your eyebrows curled inward as you kept your eyes on him, tears threatening to prickle at the corners of your eyes from how full he was stuffing your mouth, hitting your uvula.

in the middle of sucking him off, you pulled up your shirt with one hand, just enough for your tits to show out. now both your hands begin to fondle with your tits as you continue to suck him off, and this draws a long ass moan from toji, watching you slobber on him with no hands had him fucked. you can see how his lower abdomen was caving in with each breath he took, and that's when he takes a hold of your jaw, pulling you off of him, your lips sliding off with a pop. you had him on the brink of cumming, and he didn't want to just yet. he needed your pretty pussy.

you lick your lips with a smile, standing up on your feet as toji hoists you up by the waist, propping you up onto the counter. he hauls your shorts down in an instant, a string of your slick following your panties and toji sneers at the sight. “pretty pussy’s all wet f’me, hm?” you nod eagerly, and he slides a thumb down your clit, causing your hips to jerk, which has him chuckling to himself yet again. “mhmm… relax yourself, needy girl.” 

toji hikes your legs up, your hands hooking beneath your knees so you could hold them up for him. he gets between your legs, blowing on your clit and prompting you to clench around nothing. “tojiii…” you drag his name out in a whine, before toji kisses on your pussy.

“didn’t i tell you to relax? don’t fuckin’ ‘tojiii~’ me.” he mocks, finally diving in to your heat, his tongue delving right between your folds. your head immediately falls back, your lips parting open while lewd little mewls flee from your lips. he’s a messy eater, a mixture of your arousal and his saliva smearing all over your pussy lips and drizzling down his chin. it’s slurp after slurp, your body twitching with no stop, your eyes rolled back to your skull with your toes curling. “ohh, fuuck… toji–!” you croak out, your thighs shaking as you start to fail to hold your legs up, his mouth had you stupid already. as he notices this, he holds them for you with force, but throws him over his shoulders.

 because now he's standing again, spitting on your cunt one last time before he does so. “keep those eyes on me when i fuck this pussy, you hear me?” toji says, and you quickly nod in abidance. 

he’s so fucking girthy, his thick length stretching you like elastic. his veined hands grasp at your waist, his hips starting to snap into yours at a steady pace. he’s reaching deep, hitting all the right spots inside you that triggered the sluttiest moans from you, your back arching as your walls clamp down on him. “only now you wanna get your shit together, hmm? only when i stuff you full of this dick?” he grunts, the sounds of your skin slapping blasting all throughout the place. “mngh–! y-yeah… feels so g-good…!” you blabber, the tears you had poking through your eyes were now starting to blur your vision. his cock was just made to fuck you, he felt so damn good.

“h-hah… that’s what i thought.” he grumbles, the pace of his thrusts immediately escalating. now the next thing he does drives you fucking mad. he grabs your arms, pulling them up so that they’re around your neck. he then snakes his hands beneath your legs and now has them over his forearms, letting your feet dangle. he’s got you off the counter, and starts fucking you standing, picked up in his arms. a squeal breaks loose from your mouth, your arms clinging around his neck for dear life. “oh m’god, yes–! ‘m cumming, d-daddy!” you cry out, your body going limp like a ragdoll, like a toy just for toji to fuck relentlessly. 

you can feel that coil in your lower stomach that's just mere seconds away from snapping. and he does this thing when he’s close, his jaw clenches and you can see how the veins in his neck contract. that gives you the sign to clench around him even harder, a loud groan breaking out his throat.

“fuckin’ milking my shit when you s-squeeze me like that… holy fuckkk, baby—” toji’s breathing is uneven, coming out in raspy huffs. and it's only a matter of time before you let out your final moan, a real salacious one at that. you shook violently, gasping for air as you squirted all over him, your orgasm hitting you like a damn bus.

toji’s jaw goes slack, his head falling back as he chases his own high, still ramming into you despite you being fucking gone. tears start to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation, your eyes barely even able to stay open properly. 

his load finally spills into your cunt, coming in thick, hot spurts. he twitches inside you, before placing you back down onto the counter and pulling out slowly, his cum oozing from your hole. he steps forward and cups your face, pressing a kiss on your nose before letting his forehead rest atop yours. “you alright, pretty?” he murmurs, and you look up into his eyes, nodding slowly with a soft smile. he grins, wiping the tears that stained your supple cheeks with his thumb.

“you did real good f’me, baby.” he murmurs, his words going straight to your core, fluttering in your stomach. he then catches your eyes wandering away, staying on the ground. he then turns to look as well, and his eyes fall upon the absolute mess made of the floor. it was the coffee you had threw at him, now mixed with your squirt. oh, fucking hell.

“... well, good luck with that, sweetheart.” toji says, laughing to himself as you land a smack to his arm.

“oh, fuck you toji!”