#hyper diffusion

[knightofhylia]

Milo Rossi's lecture of the dangers of Pseudoscience and Pseudoarcheology

[horzagobuchul]

Has Yor been to A Bun in the Oven?

Hello!

She just started working and I'm pleased to say that the results are quite good so far!

I'm sorry for the nonattendance in the past few weeks. I have been traveling abroad with my better half and we just got back. I hope everyone have been doing well!. I'm looking forward to working through my backlog once again and seeing where we'll take this blog in the coming months.

Much love and warm thoughts to everyone!

// Horza

[originalsdesigns]

Terribles brujas malvadas se van reuniendo para invocar un conjuro malefico

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Terrible evil witches are gathering to invoke an evil spell

[synthographicstudio]

Hello every body... i will be posting such info here often.. all my resources which are used in generation .. Enjoy and do subscribe to my Channel..

Thank you

[emeraldsandpearlsss]

Under Pressure

As a graduation present to yourself you head to the spa to finally get some relaxation. Lucky for you, your masseuse knows just how to work out that tension.

(this is my first attempt at a one shot so be gentle)

WC: 4.4k

content warnings: strangers, fingering (f receiving), oral (m and f receiving), hand job, riding the tiger

After six grueling years of college, I had finally earned this spa day. Going straight into grad school after getting my Bachelor’s was a decision I knew would be challenging, but I hadn’t anticipated the physical toll it would take on me. The mental hardships I managed with various prescriptions and my nightly date with Lady Indica, but nothing seemed to ease the tension that had been locked in my shoulders for the past three years.

So there I soaked, neck deep in the outdoor mineral bath, as the 104-degree water soothed my aching joints. The spa was hidden away in the mountains, down a winding road flanked by lush greenery. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and swimming laps. Now I lounged, waiting for my upcoming aromatherapy massage. With the day pass costing upwards of $500, I was determined to make every cent count.

When my 15 minutes were up, I headed inside to the spa’s service area. The receptionist checked me in, handed me a towel, and guided me to the showers to rinse off before my treatment. The hallways were dimly lit and refreshingly cool, infused with the earthy aroma of stone walls, subtly mingled with hints of jasmine and eucalyptus oils. My shower resembled a rock waterfall. This whole place knew how to set a tone.

I quickly undressed, rinsed off, and wrapped myself in the plush towel. My hands lightly shook as I knotted my hair into a silk scrunchie and I felt a flutter of tension deep into my belly. I had never had a massage like this before. I had never spent this much on myself before. But I earned this. I had to keep reminding myself I worked hard for this.

Entering Room 3, I paused to take in the serene atmosphere. The soft, white massage table rested at the heart of a dimly lit room, bathed in a soothing blue glow. The stone-lined walls evoked the serene ambiance of a tranquil cave, inviting a deep sense of calm. I took my place on the table, face up as instructed, and let out a slow, steadying breath.

A soft knock broke the quiet, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening. I turned my head to greet my masseuse and was met with a pair of jade-green eyes illuminated by the room’s soft light.

"Hello," he said, his voice carrying a gentle British accent. "My name is Harry, and I’ll be your massage therapist today."

For a moment, I forgot myself, taking in the sight of him. His soft brown hair was tied back in a bun, mirroring my own. He wore a simple short-sleeved button-down and matching trousers, accented only by a blue name tag. Tattoos adorned his left arm in an intricate array, with just a few scattered on his right. As my gaze traveled back up to meet his eyes, I felt the need to steady my breath. 

"H-hi. Hello," I stammered, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I had nothing but a pair of cotton panties beneath my towel.

"Are there any areas you’d like me to focus on today?" he asked as he moved around the room, setting out lotions and placing a few drops of oil into the diffuser. He was so at ease in his routine and I felt like my world had tilted on its axis. 

His words caused an unexpected ache to thrum low in my belly. I clenched my thighs together, hoping to dispel the sensation as discreetly as possible. That particular area hadn't received any focus since the start of my grad program.

By another person that is.

And god three years was a long time to go with only the company of a pink vibrator. And maybe a dildo…and a purple vibrator that had the thrusting motion…and occasionally a plug but only on special occasions…

But no men. 

And certainly not men who looked like him. I’d been here for two hours already, cycling between the hot and cold plunge pools and doing some laps in the pool. His hands seemed capable of molding me like play-doh, with veins running along them and up along his firm forearms… It was easy to imagine them working out…tension. 

"My shoulders have been sore," I managed to choke out, wincing slightly at the crack in my voice. My shoulders weren’t any more sore than any other part of my body, but I felt like I had to say something. 

"Alright," he said with a reassuring nod. "We’ll start there and see how you’re feeling. Just close your eyes and try to relax." 

I did as instructed, taking a few calming breaths. The sound of him rolling a stool closer and the faint squeezing of lotion filled the room.

"Is it alright if I touch you now?" he asked gently.

I nodded softly, and his hands found their place on my shoulders, warm and reassuring. His palms pressed firmly into my traps, kneading with a steady rhythm that radiated a soothing warmth through my muscles. His thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles, each motion dissolving knots of tension that had accumulated from countless hours hunched over a computer screen. The relief was immediate, like all of the weight I had been carrying was slowly lifting away.

His fingers traveled with a knowing precision, working their way across the ridges of my shoulders and upper back. A satisfying pressure built with each movement—firm enough to coax the tension from my muscles but never harsh, as if he intuitively understood my threshold. As he moved his hands to my neck, his touch deepened. He slipped his fingers beneath my shoulder blades, a light stretch accompanying the glide upward.

His hands transitioned seamlessly into my hair, the silky strands parting as his fingertips brushed against my scalp. The sensation magnifying the ache between my legs. His touch grounded me in the moment while leaving my senses heightened.

Slowly his hands began to curl around to the sides of my neck, along my pulse point and up to my temples. My heart rate picked up with each pass, my legs flexing and releasing. As he worked his way up to my jaw, his thumbs gently massaging near my earlobes, an unrestrained moan escaped my lips.

Harry’s hands paused, and my breath caught.

I opened my eyes cautiously, only to find his locked with mine, his lips slightly parted.

"Sorry..." I whispered, mortified.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and with a subtle nod, resumed his motions without a word.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately to calm my racing thoughts and praying he couldn't feel the pounding of my pulse along my throat. But the crimson flush of embarrassment burned across my skin, and my mind refused to settle.

Did I make it weird? I made it weird. Why was he looking at me like that though? I'm sure I just imagined it. It's his job to do this, I doubt I'm the first person to ever make a noise, it's fine. But oh god why is he so quiet? I guess he was quiet before... Was it awkward before? Have I been making this whole thing weird? No, no, it's a spa, you're supposed to relax. It's fine. You're fine. Breathe.

After tending to my arms Harry asked me to turn onto my stomach. I awkwardly maneuvered myself, clinging to the towel as I tried not to tumble off the table. I don't think I could handle embarrassing myself again today. Once in position, I felt a gentle tap on my back.

"I’m going to need you to pull down the towel so I can see your back," he said softly. "I also have this pillow for under your hips."

I shimmied the towel down to my lower back and adjusted the pillow beneath me. To my surprise, it eased a pressure I hadn’t realized had been building in my lower spine.

I looked over my shoulder, daring to make eye contact again. "Is this okay?" I gently ask.

He held my gaze for a moment, his hand resting gently on my calf, before responding, "Perfect." I thought I could see him give a harsh swallow, but surely I must have mistaken it. 

Turning to face the ground through the cushioned face hole of the massage bed I felt myself flush again. This man has said little to nothing to me and yet I am disolving into a pile of goo on the floor. Truly pathetic. Call me the Wicked Witch because I, too, will apparently die if I get a little wet.

As Harry gently kneads my legs I feel the ache between my thighs becoming harder to ignore and debate ending the session. This is supposed to be relaxing but I'm so wound up and in my head that I fear I'm making everything worse. 

After several more minutes of imagining what other areas my masseuse could work on I let out a frustrated sigh and resigned myself to end the session. I begin to lift myself up when I feel him place a firm hand on the back of my upper thigh. I freeze, my hands gripping the edge of the table but waiting for any indication of what's happening.

"Wh-"

"Just lay back down. I know. I've got you."

I tilt my head in his direction, still too scared to make eye contact for fear that I'm imagining what he's implying.

"Harry what do you..."

He moves his hand up my thigh a fraction of an inch.

Clearing his throat he asks, "Is it alright..." he moves another inch, "if I touch you?"

The question hangs in the air as I try to imagine a world in which things like this happen to people like me. 

"Yes," I say in a breathless whisper. Scared that someone will hear. Scared that I'll make him disappear.

He places a hand on my shoulder and delicately pushes me back down onto the table, holding me between the shoulderblades as he slides his hand between my thighs. When I feel the tips of his cool fingers caress me my body tenses on instinct and I clench my legs around him. His minty cool breath hits my face as he bends down and whispers, "relax," in my ear as his index finger begins to glide up and down my now soaked panties.

After a deep breath I begin to ease the tension in my legs, letting them fall farther apart to give him more access. 

His hand moves slowly, exploring everything still hidden from him by thin cotton. It’s a dramatic difference from the pounding of my pulse ringing in my ears. My breath comes out in choppy puffs as I harshly swallow and try to calm myself down.  The friction of cotton against me sends zings of pleasure through my body and I clench my fingers trying to hold onto this side of the earth as it begins to spin around me. But the pleasure is outweighed by my need to feel him on me. In me. 

Without much thought I gently ease my hips up from their propped position on the pillow, my body taking over and letting him know I need more. That’s when I feel his fingers gliding along the seam of my panties, teasing me. 

“Can I-”

“Yes,” I let out in a low moan. I’m not above begging at this point. I appreciate the checking in. I do. But if he doesn’t touch me right now I fear I will fall apart, fractured and broken, unable to hold together the ache that's been building inside me.

When he pulls aside my drenched underwear and begins to slide a finger through my arousal everything else in the room turns to fog. There is only the soft glow of blue light, me, and Harry. I am in the clouds and he is propelling me higher. When he finally makes his way to my throbbing clit the ground falls away beneath me. 

Harry’s free hand trails up my back until gently tangling with the hair at the base of my neck, giving it a firm hold. His other hand is working slow, torturous circles around my aching nub. Every time I start to feel the pressure build in my lower belly he moves away, collecting more of my arousal before starting the process all over again. 

Swirl. Swirl. Swirl. Stop.

Again. And again. 

I can’t help it when a whimper escapes my lips as he does it for the fourth time. At the sound Harry gently releases my hair allowing me to look over my shoulder at him, where his sparkling green eyes are already trained on mine. A small smirk is on his lips. He’s enjoying working me up. As we look at eachother I can see the challenge in his eyes. He’s pushing me and I have no stamina to put up a fight. Another desperate whine escaped my throat as I breathlessly choke out a, “please.”

Please is always the magic word. 

He keeps our eyes connected as he removes his hand just long enough to drag down my now soaked underwear. One finger slides inside of my dripping pussy, and then a second. My eyes roll back and then close as my jaw falls open, taking in the pleasure and the pressure of the fullness. His fingers are long and hit that spot inside of me that makes stars explode behind my eyes with ease. As he begins to massage my g-spot his thumb resumes the tortuous circling of my clit and I bury my head in the cushions to attempt stifling my moans. My hips begin to rock back, urging him to… I don’t know what. But I need more of him. 

Suddenly a firm hand slips around my waist and between my breasts, pulling me up so I’m forced to prop myself on my forearms. His hand continues up and gently locks around my throat. A sob of appreciation escapes me as he begins to fuck me harder with his fingers. Tears pool in my eyes as the pressure in my belly becomes almost too much, begging for release. Harry tightens his thumb and ring finger against my airways, giving me a delicious high as I feel him lean over me again, breathing in sync with me.

“You’re so tense…” he gently pants next to my ear. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know. We’ve got to get all of these knots out…” 

Just then Harry releases my throat and tears spill as the headrush overcomes me. I’m gasping, trying to bring myself back to reality, when I’m suddenly pushed back down to the table by my shoulders. Harry holds me firmly to the table as I hear him shuffle around behind me. Then his mouth is on me. He moves to wrap his arms underneath my thighs, his rough fingers digging into my soft skin as he spreads me open and buries his face in my cunt, his tongue gliding up and down - savoring me -  before settling on my throbbing clit. 

I hear a moan escape him as he firmly sucks my clit between his lips. The pressure of his tongue is the only thing keeping me grounded. Everything else falls away and all that matters is that plump pink mouth pulling me towards nirvana.

His left arm remains holding me tight as his right hand slides up the back of my thigh, leaving a train of goosebumps in their wake. A firm hand gently kneads at my ass before sliding his fingers back into my entrance. The feeling of his mouth and his fingers are so intense I try to lock my legs, but his grip is firm. I am at his mercy and god I fucking love it. I bite on my palm to stifle my moans, not wanting to get caught in here. 

Harry is all about the tease. Working me up and leaving me wanting again. My body is all stars and electric currents, twinkling so bright and zapping me back into clarity. But if I am the stars, Harry is the sun, blinding me to every sensation except that mouth. That fucking mouth. 

The only sounds are choked sobs, panting breath, and the slick slide of skin on dripping skin. My body is sticky with sweat but the room keeps me cool, despite feeling like every nerve ending is on fire. 

I begin to move my hips again, riding his fingers and his mouth as he flicks and sucks and slides in and out of me all at once. Harry groans in appreciation, his fingers digging into my flesh harder. I reach back and grab Harry by his bun, holding him to me, too scared of the moment slipping away. With a low chuckle Harry nips at my swollen nub and then applies pressure with his tongue in a pulsing motion. 

The sensation starts in my toes, a gentle fizz like bubbles rising in a glass of celebratory champagne. The tingling spreads, climbing higher and higher. As it reaches my legs, they tense on their own, every muscle coiled tight with anticipation. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until a dark haze begins to blur the edges of my vision. And then everything inside me shatters. 

The orgasm that hits fractures me into a million pieces, too powerful for a sound or a breath to escape. I am frozen with pleasure, completely at his mercy. Harry’s fingers continue to thrust into me, helping me ride out the orgasm as long as I could. Removing his mouth, he blows a cool breath on my sensitive clit and I throb around his fingers as I start to come down. When he finally takes away his hand he softly massages my calves and I work to regain control of my breathing. 

Neither of us look at each other for several minutes, the only sound to be heard is our jagged breaths. 

In. (hold) Out…

In. (hold) Out…

I gather enough strength to sit up and remove the pillow from under my hips and look over to see Harry leaning against the stone wall, watching me closely. His hands are at his sides and he’s subtly flexing his fingers, clearly unsure of what to do next. Despite his black pants and the dim lighting of the room I can still make out that he is in need of a release. The bulge beneath his scrubs looks painfully restrained.

I slide off of the massage table and tentatively walk over to him, never breaking eye contact. 

Worry crosses his face as he opens his mouth to speak. “I don’t normally…” but his voice trails off as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of him. I never take my eyes off of his and can’t help but smile inside as I see his chest begin to rise and fall at a rapid pace. 

I place a soft hand on his thigh and tilt my head, giving my best doe eyes. “You really shouldn’t let it get this bad you know…” I glance down and back up, repeating his own words back to him. Sliding my hands up his thighs I let my fingers run along the waistband of his pants. “Can I…?”

Harry lets out a strangled, “yes” as his head falls back against the wall. A few strands of hair have fallen out of his bun and gently curl around his face. I almost lose sight of my task as I take in just how beautiful this absolute stranger is. A faint flush creeps up his neck, his lips are full and slightly swollen, and his eyes carry a subtle, dreamy haze.

I attempt to return his torture by taking my time untying the knot from his scrub pants and pulling them down, but when I see the tiger tattoo on his thigh all plans are thrown out the window. I’m suddenly salivating and desperate to see all of him. More tattoos reveal themselves to me - soft words by his knees and jagged lyrics along his ankles, disappearing behind socks. I bend down to press my lips to one knee, then the other, without thinking. Taking hold of his thighs I begin to kiss my way up, savoring the feel of his muscular thighs as the clench in anticipation. I rise over the tiger and past his hips until my mouth landed on the ferns resting just above his black boxer briefs. My tongue traces the lines of the ink as my hands work down his underwear.

Pulling back I take a moment to admire his cock that has so patiently - and painfully - been begging for some attention. His heavy erection twitches as I take a soft lick of the precum that’s starting to drip before sliding my mouth over him and taking him into the back of my throat. Any attempt at going slow was now abandoned. His hips buck at my swiftness and I feel his knee give a tremble beneath my hands. I pull off of him, giving the tip of his cock a swirl of my tongue before sliding back down and setting a steady pace. 

As my nails trail softly down his thighs, his hands dart to my hair, gripping it firmly. I can sense the tension radiating through him, his body taut with restraint. Pulling away, I pause, waiting for his gaze to lock with mine. Reaching up, I touch his arms, letting my hands glide down to meet his. With a small, reassuring nod, I signal it’s okay, and his grip tightens in response. He guides me back onto him and gives a few testing rocks of his hips to make sure I’m okay. A shuddering sigh escapes his lips when he finally pulls me to the hilt of his cock and holds me there for a few moments. I swallow around him and he begins to move his hips again. 

My eye’s never leave his face as he slides his cock in and out of my mouth. I want him to know my gratitude. I want him to feel as good as he made me feel. I can feel my arousal building again as I watch him, amazed that I’m the one making these emotions of pleasure cross his face. His eyes are closed, his mouth gently hanging open as soft puffs of breath and stuttered gasps fall from his lips. The serenity of his face are a stark contrast to the fevered pace he is keeping. Tears fall and saliva dips down my chin as he roughly fucks my throat, but I’m so turned on I can’t stop myself from reaching down to relieve the pressure between my legs. 

When Harry sees me touching myself he withdraws my mouth from him, a string of spit connecting my mouth to his still swollen cock. His eyes are dark as he tugs my head further back and looks from my face to my fingers working fast circles on my clit. Giving him a smirk I lift my fingers to my mouth, but as I go in for a lick I’m met with his tongue already there, desperate to taste me again. For the first time our mouths meet in a desperate kiss and Harry drops down to his knees to meet me. Hands and lips and tongues become tangled as we pull each other closer, closer, closer. 

Harry hoists me up and places me so I’m straddling his thigh, his hands tightly gripping my hips and sliding my dripping cunt along his tiger tattoo. I wrap one arm around his shoulder, my fingers fumbling with the hair tie as I release his long curls. I pull away from our kiss and take a moment to admire him before spitting in my hand and gripping his still needy cock. We work our bodies in sync, my hips sliding up and down with every stroke of my hand on him. Desperate moans escape me as my head falls forward and rests in the crook of his neck. 

I grind my clit down harder on Harry’s thigh, savoring the blissful friction as I roll my hips but so desperate for a second release. His hips had started rocking into my hand letting me know he was just as eager to come. Without breaking my stride I let the spit pool behind my teeth before releasing it to dribble down, meeting the hand that was frantically working him towards his release. Harry leaned forward and captured my lips again, his hungry togue sliding into my mouth. 

Losing control, I moan into his mouth as the champagne bubbles float upwards again. Harry’s grip turns bruising as he pulls me down harder along his thigh while I maintain my rocking motion. When the bubbles finally reached the surface and overflowed I let out a silent gasp, unaware that I had been holding my breath again. I feel Harry’s cock pulsing in my hand and open my eyes to meet his as we finish together. Our hair is stuck to the sweat along our foreheads and our cheeks have a matching flush. I can’t bring myself to break his gaze as we both release soft, uneven breaths, waiting for our breathing to steady.

Several moments pass before a giggle escapes me, followed by another, and another. Harry shakes his head but begin to laugh as well. And so we sit there, naked, on the floor of this massage room, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears run down our faces. 

As I walked back to my car my cheeks still ached from smiling. Harry and I hadn’t spoken a word about it while we cleaned up, just shared quiet chuckles whenever our eyes met. At the locker room, his fingers brushed my arm, lingering for a fleeting moment before he turned and disappeared back into the spa center. I drove away with a sense of calm I hadn’t felt since before grad school, a weight lifted off my shoulders—and a package for five more sessions tucked in my pocket. 

After all, some knots need more than one visit to work out.

[thewritingfairy]

𓂃⋆.˚A long day

In which (Name) attempted to wash their hair and Duke ends up helping 

I'm feeling uh so it's a they/them reader with a non-specific curl type (the picture of the lady is just because I think she's so pretty-. I think she's from the interview with a vampire?) Because I did my hair for driving classes today (as you can't drive with clawclips in which I usually wear and I can't use a banana clamp because it can snap open) and I paid the price with my pain levels- SO this is based on my Nobody's child fic as I love that dynamic between Duke and (Name). trigger warnings: drabble unedited, Duke having small yandere-like tendencies but not a lot you ignoring the bats like it's a full time job

main m.list    series m.list   bad ending m.list

You are going to kill someone, specifically Dick. Because what do you mean 'I want to do your hair' when you don't even trust Dick? The only thing you want is to do your hair get to work, have a fun night shift and then go out with your friends.

Washing your hair is already a whole task, especially styling it with how stubborn it is, and you have no patience for Dick and his bullshit. You don't want him around especially with your irritation levels already rising. You are making such a mess and you can't seem to get all that shampoo out of your hair, you can't help but groan in anger as it all gets to much. Especially with Dick still trying to convince you to let him help you outside of your bathroom door. So without hesitation you text Duke;

˚₊IDIOT WITH NO WILL TO LIVE˙⋆

pls come save me from the moron named Dick and help me with my hair if you have the time I can't do this anymore- I'll own you

˚₊MY FAV BROTHER˙⋆

Coming, I get to pick your hairstyle :)

˚₊IDIOT WITH NO WILL TO LIVE˙⋆

I'm fine with that, just pls don't let me do this, my arms are already burning after just shampoo, my pain is having trouble with deciding to be low or so high that I feel like passing out ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

Duke truly is a miracle worker, Dick was waiting outside of your bathroom door attempting to convince you to let him do your hair and the second Duke said; "Please fuck off."

He fucked off.

Truly, he needs to teach you his ways.

When you unlocked the bathroom door Duke winces, the bathroom is a mess and you are basically hyper ventilating with water running down your face and neck. "Jesus, I'm glad that your uniform is a button up-" he mumbles as he grabs a towel to wipe down the floor. "go hang over the bad tub, I'm washing your hair as well as styling."

"I love you," you say as you sigh in relief. "I can not do this on my own."

"You can, just not today," Duke hums patting your back in a comforting matter. "so let me do it."

You hum as you close your eyes. It feels like heaven as Duke rubs in your shampoo, once you feel better you really need to learn new tricks to do your hair on your own. But for now you'll enjoy his help.

But to Duke this is amazing, you hate it when people touch your hair. He had helped you before, as well as your friends but that was only after procedures. Researches that left you unable to care for yourself. Yet here you are trusting him enough to help you even when you can still move, he knows it's because you have to work and you have plans tonight. Plans he'll follow you to ensure your safety

but you still asked for his help

While he was doing your hair you two chatted about your plans tonight. Willow had convinced all of you to try out this new karoake place in some abanoned part of Gotham (truly who starts a Karoake joint in the middle of nowhere?) and all of you thought it would be pretty funny to see Maria fail at singing high notes (something you suck at as well, but that's why you two always sing together, double the fun!).

"Do you want to airdry or diffuse?" Duke asks when he's finished with styling.

"Difusse, airdrying takes too long," you tell him as you grab your diffuser. "I know you hate difussing, but can you help me with the back? I don't care if it's get frizzy."

"Alright, just tell me you have heat protectant." He groans out as he takes the machine out of your hand looking at it like it's cursed.

"uh-"

"Idiot-"

fun fact I never diffuse because it brings my pain up so high I cannot move my arm for a whole ass day- And it makes my hair dry and stringy. like actual straw idk if it is because my hair is a mix of fine to normal to some thick-ish strands. Duke hating diffusers is just me hating on them-

taglist (main story): @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

[woso-dreamzzz]

Teenage Dirtbag

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: Ingrid just doesn't understand you

Mapi had never met you before.

She's met the rest of the Engen family. She's met the family pets. But you'd never been around she visited with Ingrid, like your family had put you as far away as possible when she met them.

Like you were something to be ashamed of.

It's a bit of a bad first impression to make when you're shipped from your boarding school, back home and then straight over to Spain to live with her and Ingrid.

She doesn't even get to introduce herself before Ingrid's laying into you.

"Again?" She demands as soon as you're safely in the back seat of the car," Expelled...again?"

"It's not a big deal," You mutter, slouching in your seat and pulling your hood over your head.

"Not a big deal...Not a big deal?! You've been kicked out of school! You've been kicked out of the house! Oh, but it's not a big deal?!"

Mapi's never seen Ingrid so angry before but you're taking it like a champ, looking out the window and generally ignoring your sister even as she snaps at you.

"Are you done?" You ask in the most bored tone you can manage.

Ingrid takes a breath. "Ye-" She catches sight of you in the rear view mirror and whips around to face you. "Is that a hickey?!"

"Do we have to do this?" You groan," You ask me if I've got a hickey. I give you an answer you don't like. You yell. Can we just skip to the bit after you scold me?"

Ingrid's practically bubbling in rage sitting in the passenger seat and Mapi's left scrambling trying to diffuse the tension.

"So..." She says eventually," You like football?" It's a weak redirection but it gets an amused scoff out of Ingrid as she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not into exercising willingly," Is your answer," It's alright from a distance. Even better when a girl's doing it."

Ingrid groans louder now and swats at your knees but it's teasing and it's like all of her anger from earlier has melted away. "Don't," She says warningly though a hint of amusement is still present in her voice," There'll be none of that here. You're here to focus and to study and to better your grades."

You send her a lopsided smile. "How am I supposed to improve perfection?"

It's that evening after you've retreated to your room that Ingrid is left in a slump over your grades and your truancy records.

"I don't get it," She says to Mapi," She misses almost every class but she has perfect marks. It's like she doesn't even have to try."

Mapi shrugs. "Maybe she doesn't," Is her response," Some people just get school better than others. To be honest, if it's this easy then that's probably why she never turns up."

"And the hickies?"

"She's hormonal?" Mapi doesn't really have an answer to that as she's handed your transcript.

"And this?"

Ingrid slides Mapi a picture. It's of one of this out buildings that every school has that they swear is temporary but never go unused.

"That's..."

Mapi stares at the side of the building. She stares at the colours on the wall, at the way they weave expertly in and out of each other. She stares at the shading and the light.

"I know," Ingrid says, her face all scrunched up and Mapi gets the idea that they're not on the same page.

"It's brilliant."

"It's disrespectful."

They both spoke at the same time. They exchange a confused look with each other before turning their gazes back to study the picture.

It's clearly spray paint, the mural that you've done on the side of one of your school buildings. Usually, Mapi would see tags on railway lines out of spray paint. But, somehow, your mural is hyper realistic (Mapi would even go so far as to say photorealistic).

It's...Well Mapi doesn't quite have the words to explain it.

"I'd love to see what she could do with a pencil."

"Mapi!" Ingrid hisses," Don't encourage her!"

"No, no," Mapi backtracks quickly," I get it, totally. She shouldn't have done it there. It's wrong and it's bad but Ingrid! Look at it! People dream of having talent like that!"

For the entire night and the coming days after, Mapi thinks about the mural you did it on your school.

She ends up asking Ingrid for your Instagram during the lunch break at training. Ingrid gives it to her with a confused look.

"If you're going to use it to try and work out where this behaviour is coming from, it's useless," Ingrid says with a defeated sigh," I've already gone through it all."

That wasn't what Mapi was planning to do at all so she just offers Ingrid a little smile and a promise to see what she could find. To her disappointment, no more of your artwork has been posted on your main account.

She scrolls through your following list, all the way to the bottom, to find an account that she's positive is your secret one. Its username is a bunch of random letters followed by dot-art and its profile picture is the mural on the side of your school building.

Mapi feels like she's hit the jackpot as she scrolls through it (feeling pleased with herself when she notices a bunch of your school friends follow this account too so it must be you). You've got hundreds of posts up, detailing murals you've done around your hometown and your school. There's a few still life drawings and a huge oil paint piece on a massive canvas. There's an image of a drawing that's clearly done in pen on someone's arm.

It's photorealistic just like your spray paint piece and, if you were older, Mapi would probably beg you to be her tattoo artist.

When she and Ingrid get back to the house, you're napping at the kitchen table.

Ingrid swears under her breath, rousing you from your sleep. "I told you to do your school work," She says.

You shrug. "I did." You shove your notepad towards her. "It's not my fault that it's not difficult."

"You've done the bare minimum."

You shrug. "I'm not into doing more than I have to."

The tension in the air is practically electric as you both stare each other down.

"Lose the attitude," Ingrid says," I'm trying to help you here. Mum and Dad won't let you back home until you clean your act up."

You mutter something under your breath and Ingrid goes rigid.

"Don't say that!" She snaps," They want what's best for you! We want what's best for you!"

"They want what's best for them!" You snap back. In the few weeks that Mapi's known you, you're the most laidback teenager she's ever met. You've never once really bit back at Ingrid, no matter how hard she pushed you.

Ingrid's tough love had seemed to be working. You napped regularly, yes, but you got all of your schoolwork done. You don't come home with hickeys and no strange murals have appeared in Barcelona by your hands.

She must have hit a sore spot for you.

"You're smart," Ingrid says," You're so smart and I don't understand why you don't apply yourself more! If you worked properly, you could graduate early and be at university already!"

"There's nothing at university that interests me," You mutter," It's a waste of time."

"It's not a waste of time!" Ingrid retorts," What are you going to do when you finish school, huh? Do you even have a plan?!"

Mapi sees your eyes dart to where your sketchpad sits a few feet away. She can see the cogs turning in your head.

You stay silent.

Ingrid sighs, hands clenched into two shaking fists. "I love you," She says," But you need to get yourself together." She shoves your papers right back at you.

"I've already finished it!"

"You've done the bare minimum." She swipes your sketchbook off of the table. "Sit down. Do it properly."

"Give it back!"

Ingrid's tall and, even though she's your sister, she's still tall enough to hold your book over her head so you can't reach it. "You get it back when you do your work properly."

"Give it!"

"No!"

"Ingrid, hand it over!"

"Do your work!"

"Urgh! I hate you!"

"Well, too bad. Because I love you!"

You slump into the seat with a scream that makes Mapi's ears ring a bit but you grab your pen and start on your schoolwork again.

"Come on," Mapi says softly, drawing Ingrid into their bedroom and shutting the door.

Ingrid throws your sketchbook onto the bed and paces, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"What-What did she say?" Mapi asks, her mind playing that moment when Ingrid went stiff over and over again.

"She said that she wished Mum and Dad got rid of her when they had the chance...you know...when she was..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Ingrid groans. "I-I just don't understand her! She's so smart! She has her pick of everywhere! Mum and Dad can get her into medical school! It's like she has no ambition!"

Mapi types into her phone. "Have you considered that, maybe, going to medical school and university isn't exactly for her? I mean, you went straight into football."

Ingrid sighs, the tension draining somewhat from her body. "Mapi...It's different. I had a passion for football even when I was younger. I practiced every day. I knew what I wanted."

"She practices something every day," Mapi replies," And she's so good at it. Honestly, Ingrid, it's a little annoying that you and your family haven't noticed."

She turns her phone around, to a post on your secret Instagram account. It's tagged as a city a few hours away from your old boarding school.

On the side of a crumbling house is a spray paint mural of Norway's women's team. It's got everyone on it, photorealistic like all of your other murals. Ingrid's in the middle though, beaming a smile that you can see reaches her eyes.

"What?" The real Ingrid asks, brow furrowed.

"Your sister did that," Mapi says," She's done a lot of them." She grabs your sketchbook and flicks though it. You'd shown her all of your pieces a few days ago when she asked to see them. "Ingrid, she's so good."

Ingrid flips through your book. There's pencil drawings in there. There's watercolour and acrylic and oil. There's a pastel study of your cat back home and an inked version of Bagheera. There's a stunning piece in charcoal of you and Ingrid when you were younger.

Her fingers hover over your squishy baby cheeks, like she could reach into the picture and touch them.

The next few pages have pictures of your own arm with tattoo designs wrapping around them.

"Ingrid, she's so talented," Mapi says," And, yeah, maybe she shouldn't skip class or leave her work to the last minute but she's found something she's passionate about and loves. How would you feel if your parents didn't support you in your football and made you go to medical school?"

Ingrid wipes the tears out of her eyes when she flicks to the last picture you've drawn. It was from last week, when she rewarded you for doing all your work before the weekend with ice cream. You had taken a picture with Mapi and Ingrid, tongue poking out and cheeks pressed together.

You've replicated it perfectly on the page and scrawled a little heart at the bottom along with your signature.

"Jona...Jona said they're looking for someone to do a mural on the back wall of the Johan Cruyff," She says eventually, flipping the book closed," We...Er...We..."

"I'll call Jona," Mapi assures her," Go and save your sister from work she's already finished."

Like Mapi said, you've already finished all of your work and you're sitting stubbornly at the kitchen table, rolling a piece of lint between your fingers.

You're taken completely off guard when Ingrid pulls you in for a hug. Usually, it takes an hour or two for her to calm down after yelling at you.

"I love you," She says as she pulls away, cradling your face as tears run down her face," I love you so much."

"Ingrid? What's going on?"

"I love you," She says," And I want what's best for you. If you promise me that you'll try just a bit harder in school then I swear, I'll make everything better."

"Seriously, you're freaking me out here. What's going on?"

Map appears over Ingrid's shoulder with a dopey smile. "You should thank your sister. She's just sorted you out with a job."

"A job? Ingrid, no offence, but you don't even like me out of your sight. I can barely get by in Spanish. You want me to get a job too?"

"The Estadi Johan Cruyff needs a mural done-"

"Several murals," Mapi cuts in.

"-And you're doing them."

You blink in shock before a grin splits your face wide open. "Seriously? Are you joking?"

"Keep trying hard," Ingrid says," And I'm sure me and Mapi can sort you out with so much more."

[thirstkanaphan]

Yunho being the Mingi explainer is so fascinating to me; because it's clear that anyone who talks to Mingi for more than five minutes finds him utterly charming. His wide and varied social circle attests to his ability to make friends easily. Yet Yunho always makes it a point to inform people (or reassure them) that Mingi is nothing like the scary first impression he often gives via his on-stage drag performance of hyper-sexual masculinity.

"It's just way too sad that ATINY can't see that part of him."

"Mingi might be a bit much (intense) for people meeting him for the first time but once you get to know him, he's really fun. He likes making jokes. He's a really cute guy"

"Introducing my friend, Mingi. My beloved friend, Mingi. he is always full of charisma and on stage, he is endlessly passionate. but whenever we're together, when he smiles/laughs, he's always full of cute charm."

"At home he is very cute"

"I think Mingi's charm point is the cuteness within all that charisma"

I really wonder where this stems from; is it a protective (defensive?) gesture from a friend who watched as someone he cared about went on hiatus for anxiety-related mental health reasons? Is it Yunho trying to manage or direct our perception of Mingi because it benefits the group's image to have the existence of a Princess Minki who helps diffuse the more critical responses to Ateez's performance style? (This is similar to how the other members publicly manage the image of San: he's pouting kitty cat in the body of a manhwa protagonist). Is this part of their fanservice -- Yunho bragging about his exclusive access to Mingi's cutest self that not even ATINY can see?

There's plenty of room to speculate but I do find it interesting that this has been a recurring motif in their on-camera shipwork for years!

[bullet-prooflove]

Home: Terry Bruno x Reader

Tagging: @beardedbarba @justreblogginfics @Storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life @witches-unruly-heart

It’s late when you knock on Terry’s door, later than you intended. You’d gone back to your apartment initially after work but you were restless, pacing your way through the carpet. It didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel like home. Your stuff is there, at least most of it but you still couldn’t settle. There’s an anxiety vibrating through you, an urgency, it spikes through your system leaving you reactive, defensive.

Hyper-vigilance.

You’ve felt it before. Your nerves are flayed raw in the aftermath of the adrenaline. It usually happens when things get dicey in the field but this right now, it’s emotional. It’s the product of the man who used to hurt you, stepping back into your life as if nothing ever happened.

You clasp the compass that resides around your throat, your fingertips rubbing over the tiny diamond in the centre.

So that you can always find your way, Terry had said you as he helped to put it on.

Home was where Terry was, it has been for a long time now.

It had been raining when you’d taken the subway. Your car was in the shop, and truthfully you could do with the walk, you thought it might diffuse some of the excess energy that was pulsing through your veins.

When Terry opens the door he isn’t expecting you, there’s a beer in his hand and he has the game playing in the background. You’re soaked through, water running off you in rivers, trailing from your hair and dripping down your face.

“I thought you were staying at yours tonight.” He says, setting his beer bottle down on the oak end table. “Christ, get in here, you’re gonna catch your death.”

The next few minutes are a whirlwind, Terry drawing you into the bedroom where he helps you strip out of your wet clothes and takes his time drying you off with a towel. There’s a tenderness in his touch, a domesticity and for a moment you find yourself falling even more in love with this man as he takes care of you. He pulls out his worn Yankees t-shirt from the dresser drawer and drapes it over your naked form before helping you into a pair of  his boxer shorts.

“Whatever’s happening right now. Whatever’s put you in this state I’m here ok?” He tells you, cupping your face between his hands. “When you’re ready to talk I’m here.”

***

It takes a while for you to thaw out. Terry tucks you into a blanket on the couch, makes you tea, it’s hot and sweet and just what you need as you listen to the rain patter on the windows outside. His leans back against the cushions, his arm on the back of the sofa, his thumb trailing over the curve of your shoulder soothing over it. It’s a light touch but it’s everything  you need and more because Terry gets you, he knows when you need space and when you need a little reassurance.

“I have to tell you something.”

He reaches for the remote and flicks the sound onto mute. The game still plays in the background but his eyes aren’t on it, they’re on you as he angles his body so that you have his full attention.

“I’m not really sure where to start.” You told him, fingers toying with the hem of the t-shirt.

“Why don’t you tell me how we got here tonight?” he said gently. “How you turned up here in the rain, soaked through?”

“It’s Paul, my ex.” You told him by way of explanation. “He’s consulting on a case of mine, it’s got me all in a spin.”

“Alright.” Terry said shifting from side to side. “If you still have feelings…”

You can see the hurt in his eyes, he’s starting to shut down but you reach out, your hand grasping his arm on the back of the couch as you reinforce your words.

“No.” You say it so venomously you can see the surprise on his features at your tone. Your fingers reach up to the back of your neck, trailing over the tiny patchwork of scars that reside there. You can feel them prickle like they did that night. “He was an addict.”

“Oh…” Terry said, his thumb trailing over the indentation of your wrist. “That must have been tough to live with.”

He’s starting to get it now, your reaction to this suggestion of moving in this morning. You’d lived with Russo for two years, he knew it had ended badly but he hadn’t expected addiction, it raised a lot of questions and he had theory, he just hoped he was wrong. You nod swallowing hard.

“Those scars, the ones on your back, your neck and shoulders. He did them didn’t he?”

Your eyes burn and you couldn’t stand to look him in the face. You focus on the game instead, the green of the pitch blurring your vision.

“He put me through a mirror when I wouldn’t pay a drug debt. They were threatening his career, to turn him into his Captain…”

“Did he...” Terry trails off because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words instead he supplements.  “Was there more?” He says finally.

 You shake your head.

“That was the first time, the only time. But you know my history. Once was enough.” Your father used to drink, you’d seen violence from an early age . You survived it, didn’t let it colour you but sometimes there were cases that hit too hard, the ones where a husband kills their wife. Those are the nights you don’t come home for hours, you go the gym. You beat the hell out of something until you couldn’t function, until you crawl into bed exhausted. Afterwards he cradles you close because even though you hadn’t said anything Terry knew, he always knew.

“Did he hurt you again?” Terry asks quietly and you shake your head.

“He wanted to get back together, he’s been sober over a year but… “ You meet Terry’s eyes. “He’s not even sorry about this…” You gesture at the scars that pucker the skin at the base of your neck.

You remembered the hours you’d spent in the hospital as a doctor removed glass from your back and neck, the stretch of the skin as they stitched you back together. It could have been worse you told yourself, it almost was, the doctor had told you. You were lucky you hadn’t suffered nerve damage; it was all just superficial.

“I started it when refusing to give him the money.” You recount.

“And he ended it by shoving you through a mirror.” Terry remarks you, his voice rough. “What do you want to do about this?”

“I am going to suck it up, and wait it out, he won’t be there for long and I think he got the message.” You tell him. “I’ve paired him with Sinclair for now, hopefully there will be as little interaction with me as possible.”

Terry presses his forehead against yours. He knows this is hard for you, that you’re walking a fine line. You both don’t trust to take it up the chain of command, shit like this, it never works out well for ones that do report, you just have to look at what happened to him to understand how fucked up the whole thing is.

“I am here for you.” He tells you, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek. “As your partner or a cop, I’m here for whatever you need.”

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[junosmindpalace]

Hey! I'm a long time reader of yours. I'm finding myself real down on my luck lately, and life has been kicking my ass (medical school, and this flu season amongst other things). May I request headcanons of Gen or Ukyo taking care of a sick reader?

hello hello!! i’m very grateful that you’ve stuck around and enjoy my writing!  i’m so sorry to hear life hasn’t been treating you so good, and i hope things pick up for you soon :( 

gen or ukyo…why not both!

GEN ASAGIRI

Depending on the severity of your sickness, Gen may initially be a little reluctant to be around you. 

He’s a bit of a drama queen, swooning over how sad it is that you’re in such a state, worrying about whether or not he’ll catch anything from you, teasing that he should keep his distance. 

Yet when your unimpressed features finally send the messages that his jokes and attitudes weren’t all that funny, he sobers up and truly is one of the most committed to looking after you out of everyone in the camp. 

He truly and honestly worries about you; he hates seeing you in such distress, and though subconsciously he may also want to save his own skin and comfort by averting his eyes, he forces himself to stay by you for both your sakes. 

Especially if your sickness is something that can evolve to be life threatening, he’ll stay by your bedroll all night if it means giving himself some peace of mind. 

He acts as a messenger between you and the rest of the Kingdom of Science. Anything you want or need, Gen is immediately out to ask someone to bring it over, or he’s going off to retrieve it himself. 

He brings meals to your bed(roll) and insists he feeds you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to. 

He’s surprisingly diligent and mindful of your body; he thinks to put a soothing cloth on your skin for some relief, and takes care to change it regularly. He’s quiet when he moves around, so as to not disturb you while you attempt to rest and dull the ache in your head.

When you’re up for it, Gen most likes to talk you out of hyper fixating on your pain. He’ll complain about people and complain about tasks they force him to undertake, always in a theatrical way that makes you chuckle, which reassures him greatly.

Sometimes he may even pull out some of his magic tricks to amuse you. If not tricks, then regular games of cards and showcases of all the flowers he managed to find and pick and preserve. 

Most of the time when he’s in your company, however, he’s trying to busy himself one way or another. Sitting and staring at your weakening state for too long makes him nervous. He feels the need to pace, to do something. 

Overall, tries to continue acting like his arrogant self, but his actions give away his concern, and he’s more than relieved when you recover from your ailment. 

UKYO SAIONJI 

Ukyo, in many ways, is incredibly similar to Gen, just without the arrogance and dramatics and more concern instead. 

It’s hard for him to hide behind a smile like Gen does, however; when it comes to you, his emotions are kind of plain to see, almost impossible to hide. He’ll give you reassuring squeezes of the hand or shoulder, laugh with you and offer all his support, but you can tell the whole thing makes him uneasy, and when he isn’t wearing a smile for your sake, he’s silently grieving your condition (especially if it appears life threatening). 

So you’ll both need some comforting, perhaps a squeeze of his shoulder in order to get his tension to diffuse just the slightest bit. But Ukyo is always there to pull you out of your misery with reassurances that the sickness won’t last forever, and that you’ll recover soon enough, reborn into a stronger body (and mind). 

In the meantime, he does what he can for you. He takes over your chores, brings you your meals, and stands by you with his bow at night; just in case. 

Conversation is the main way he attempts to get your mind off your sickness. Talking about himself, updating you on the day’s happenings, asking questions about you and the things you like--anything and everything if it means keeping you as spirited as possible. It’s also a subconscious reassurance for himself that you show potential in recovery. 

He also works closely beside Senku and the other villagers who closely monitor your condition and attempt to help you recover through whatever means they can think up (or invent). Though he may not know all the science behind the recovery methods, he’ll recommend remedies from his own experience and ask questions as to what he can do in order to best support you.

When you do eventually recover, he’s just as bright and cheery (and perhaps even relieved) as you are, though he may remain a little more protective of you than normal, not wanting you to contract a similar ailment.

[baby-yongbok]

Hey can I pls request asking bf chan if you can give him a handjob for the first time and then making him cum all over your hand 🤭

This took me to a headspace that is currently causing brain rot so thank you for ruining me 😭This is a lot longer than I intended for it to be but I promise its worth it lol Enjoy! 💕

Free Time - Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader - Imagine

Word Count: 2,572

Warnings under the cut

✨Masterlist✨

✨Part 2: First Time✨

Warnings: Cursing, Cum tasting (for like a second), that should be all of the warnings? So Sorry if I missed any!

Reader is Called: Baby, Babygirl

Chan is called: Babe

Your relationship with Chan was nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and sexual tension. The two of you have only been dating for six months and you both agreed to take it very slow when it came to physical intimacy. You’ve done some stuff like making out, teasing each other over your clothes and even a bit of dry humping while making out but you have yet to fully expose yourselves to each other.

Today was one of Chan’s very rare days off and he promised to spend every second of it with you instead of working. The two of you spent the day doing absolute nonsense, you stayed in bed until noon and then ordered the most tasty yet unhealthy breakfast that you could imagine. Neither of you bothered to get dressed, you wore a flimsy tank top and panties and he wore nothing but a pair of basketball shorts. The two of you flipped through channels and played uno a couple of times until he got sick of losing. You played a silly game of hide and seek and even had a pillow fight. Your entire day seemed to come straight out of a rom com and you weren’t mad at that one bit. As it got later in the day your energy seemed to die down just a bit, the two of you decided to just chill and listen to music about two hours ago but it only brought your burst of energy back when Chan decided to try and teach you the choreo to Red Lights.

“You know I suck at dancing” You laughed as you tried to follow along with his directions.

“I know but this one is so easy.” He chuckled as he watched you mess up the move for the millionth time.

“I quit.” 

You playfully throw your hands up in defeat and move to change the song since the two of you have now listened to the Red Lights a gazillion times. Chan plops down on the couch, and you study him quickly as you move to sit next to him. He’s sweating slightly from trying to teach you the choreography and he’s slouched into the couch and man spreading in such a sexy way that you almost think that you’re crazy for thinking it. As you sit next to him your eyes catch a glimpse of the slight tent in his black shorts and you can’t help but to stare for a bit. Luckily, Chan has his head tilted and resting on the back of the couch with his eyes closed as he breathes softly, if it weren’t for his slight exhaustion your staring wouldn’t be all that subtle.

“What time is it?” He asks with a sigh as he lifts his head to look at the digital clock on the wall in front of you two. “Oh wow, ten o’clock already? It feels like it's six.” 

You chuckle and nod but your mind is on anything but the time right now. You quickly glance down at the outline of Chan’s member through his shorts before moving closer to him and throwing your leg over his knee and laying your head on his chest. 

“What should we do now? We’ve spent the entire day being adult children.” Chan wraps his arm around your shoulder slightly holding you against him and his fingers start tracing imaginary circles into your skin. 

“We could try to wind down for the night. Maybe I’ll go shower and you can do your little night time routine, put on your diffuser and dim the lights and stuff.” You smiled at the fact that he knew you so well, there was a certain atmosphere you liked to create in the house before you went to bed. You liked everything to feel soft and sensual but you weren’t sure if you were ready to give up the hyper fun vibes that were weaved into today quite yet. 

“Maybe” You moved your leg, throwing it over both of his and positioned yourself so that you were straddling him. “Or we could enjoy each other's company a bit longer.”

Chan’s hands found a home on your waist as he looked up at you with bright playful eyes. “Yeah? How would you like to enjoy my company, babygirl?”

His lips turned into a grin and he bit his tongue slightly in anticipation. You stared down at him with the same sparkling look in your eyes but your gaze was less playful, there was a glaze of lust over your eyes that Chan was slowly noticing. You know that he noticed it because you could feel the evidence hardening near your heat. 

“I think you know how.” You whispered as you leaned down towards his ear and left small kiss down his jawline. He let out a low groan as you continued to pepper light kisses all over his neck.

“Baby, what exactly is it that you want to do?” 

“Well, I still want to take it slow with you.” You kissed the shell of his ear in between sentences. “But, I saw that you were semi-hard and now I can feel that you’re completely bricked up.”

You chuckle lightly when Chan moans quietly from you sucking on his earlobe. “So, I was thinking that maybe… I could give you a hand job?”

You pull away from his neck to get a glimpse of his facial expression and honestly you can’t tell how he feels about it. You’ve never seen such an expression on his face before, it almost looks like a cross between excitement and confusion.

“You want to jerk me off?” He asks bluntly, making you blush slightly. You shake your head in confirmation and Chan swallows hard as his eyes search yours “Are you sure”

“I’m so so sure” You slowly get off of his lap and stand in front of him. He takes you in for a second, your pretty cotton panties are hugging your hips and your tank top is so thin that it might as well not exist. One of your tank top straps is falling off of your shoulder and your hair is back in a messy ponytail, his hungry eyes scanning you only makes him harder and his dick twitches as a result. You notice the movement and smile towards him.

“Can I? Are you okay with that?” He shakes his head before managing to get a meek ‘yes’ out of his mouth. You drop to your knees in front of him and trail your hands up his calves and then up his thighs under his shorts. Chan holds his breath for a second as you get closer to his member but he shakily exhales when you move your hands back down his legs. 

He watches your every move and keeps a close eye on your body language, he wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself too. You smile up at him as you excitedly sit up on your knees and reach for the waistline of his shorts giving them a slight tug before dipping them down and freeing his hard cock. You’ve only ever felt his member during make out sessions or when he got hard from you being on top of him, this is the first time that you’ve ever seen his cock and gosh to say that you’re impressed would be an understatement. You shimmy his shorts down a bit more down his thighs before lightly touching his hard dick and taking in just how perfect it looked. It’s a bit darker than the rest of his body and has a pretty prominent vein running along the bottom of it. The tip of his cock is red and dripping in anticipation and only one thought pops into your head.

“I did this to you?” He grins down at you and shakes his head.

“You always do, baby.” You grin back at him before running your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times trying to get used to the feel of his smooth skin and get accustomed to his thickness. “Fuck”

Chan’s head falls back against the couch at the friction and it only encourages you to do more. You lightly run your hand over the head of his cock and his hips slightly buck into your hand. You rub the pre-cum leaking from his cock across his tip with your thumb and he moans at the sensation.

“Baby, I’m really sensitive. It’s been awhile.” You shake your head in acknowledgement before spitting in your free hand and bringing it to his shaft. He watches as you take your second hand and smear your spit over his cock. A low groan erupts from his throat as his brows furrowed and he bites his lip slightly. 

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like or if I can do anything different, okay?” He shakes his head with a slight smirk.

“Of course but you’re doing fucking amazing right now.” You shake your head before bringing your hand back up to your mouth and spitting in it again. You wet his cock and then slowly start to stroke him with your wet hand. “Oh fuck.” 

You try to keep a consistent rhythm while you pump his length, slowly increasing the speed as he melts into your touch. “Just like that, don’t slow down.” 

You maintain the speed that he likes but you decide to spice it up a little. You lick your other hand and wrap it around his tip, stroking up and down at the same pace that you're stroking his shaft. His hips buck into your hand again and he runs a hand through his hair before taking a hand full in his fist and slightly pulling at it. “Oh baby, you’re doing so fucking good.” 

Your mouth waters a bit as you watch how he reacts to you. His facial expressions and the way that his toes curl at the pleasure makes you want to give him more. You can’t help but to wonder what he’d be like when the two of you decide to take it all the way. 

You change up your technique a bit and start twisting your fists side to side in a screwing motion making sure to cover his entire tip with your hand. A deep groan leaves Chan’s throat as your hands work over him. 

“You like it, babe?” You ask in a bit of a cocky yet sexy tone, it feels good to see the effect that you have on him. You can barely imagine what it’ll be like the first time you use your mouth on him. 

“I love it.” He moans out “Can you twist your hands and go up and down at the same time, baby”

You hum in response before doing exactly as he asks. His head falls back against the couch again and his back arches slightly.  “Shit, babygirl, so perfect.”

You raise up on your knees a bit and spit down onto his cock making sure to keep it nice and wet, Chan groans at the sight and his free hand reaches forward and lightly grips your chin making you look into his eyes. With his brows still furrowed he dips his tongue out of the side of his mouth and bites it lightly before shaking his head. 

“You’re so pretty jerking my cock like that.” A low moan escapes you as your eyes flutter shut momentarily and your lips part slightly. You bite your lip a bit as you keep his eye contact. Suddenly, his eyes shut tightly and his brows raise before furrowing again and his lips pull into a thin line. You lean forward a bit spitting down onto his cock again and the wet sounds that fill the room make the scene nearly feel pornographic. Chan opens his eyes and his mouth falls open as he shakes his head to encourage you to keep up what you’re doing. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum.” He groans out and you swear that it’s the hottest thing that you’ve ever heard him say while you’ve been with him. You keep your hands going to a steady pace squeezing a bit more to give him a tighter feel. “Baby..” He moans out  and you moan back in response.

His grip on your chin loosens slowly before he retracts his hand to bring both of them up behind his head to grab at his hair as his breathing quickens and his hips buck lightly fucking himself into your hand. “Just like that” 

You keep your eyes on his and you watch as his cheeks start to turn red and he fights to keep his eyes on yours. “Fuck.. I’m..” His head falls back and he moans out loudly, you feel his cock twitch in your hands and you moan as you watch his first stream of cum fall against your hand.

“I’m fucking cumming” He grunts out and you slow down your movements as you watch his cum spurt out in hot bursts that cover your hands and drip down to the hardwood. Chan lets out a deep sigh and starts deep breathing to slow his heart rate. You slowly stop twisting with both hands and instead use one to jerk him lightly to ensure that you get every last drop from him. 

“There’s so much.” You whisper to yourself but Chan hears you and chuckles lightly.

“I told you that it's been a while.” He lifts his head to look at you, his hands let go of his hair and fall to his side. You haven’t let go of his now softening member yet and it’s purely because your curiosity is getting the best of you right now. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just.. I want to taste it.” Chan’s brows furrow again but before he can ask what you mean you bring your cum covered hand up to your mouth and take a small taste. His eyes widen as he watches your tongue dip out and lick his arousal, a small groan leaves his lips as you look into his eyes and lick it again, taking a bit more this time. 

“Not bad.” You shrug before standing from your spot between his legs.

“That was fucking hot.” He watches a smile creep up on your lips and you shake your head playfully. 

“Come on, let's clean up and wind down. You made a mess on the floor.” 

“Oh yeah I made a mess.” He laughs as he stands trying to avoid the puddle of his cum on the floor. You both go to the bathroom and clean yourselves up. Chan pulls up his shorts and just when you’re about to leave the bathroom he grabs your shirt lightly and his hand finds your waist pulling you back into him. 

“Thank you for that. You really were amazing, so so perfect.” He plants a kiss on your neck and you giggle, smiling wide. 

“It was my pleasure.” His fingers caress your sides as he leans into your ear.

“Your turn?” You blush immediately as you look over your shoulder to your smiling boyfriend. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Maybe.” You shake your ass against him teasingly before breaking free from his hold and sashaying away. He watches you with hungry eyes and you can feel his gaze on you. Maybe you won't be winding down anytime soon. 

[just-a-girl-who-loves-tmr]

Head canons

Post death-cure, safe haven

Thomas, Newt, Newtmas

I warn you this post is very long so welcome to he inner workings of my brain and 3am

Thomas

- ADHD!! You can’t tell me I’m wrong (this is kinda canon but it’s never actually mentioned) Will hyper fixate on things and neglect his well being

- His eyes are hazel, but they go green in sunlight with a lil bit of gold- that’s why newt’s favourite colour is green because its Tommy’s eye colour in sunlight but he won’t admit it he just says it’s a nice colour

- The type of person who does puzzles for fun. Again he will hyper fixate on a puzzle or task and won’t rest until he’s finished (unless Newt drags him to bed which he has done many times)

- Wakes up at 5am to go on runs with Minho. Minho wakes him up because Thomas gets made if he doesn’t and feels unproductive

- Cold showers all the time- unless he’s showering with Newt, then they compromise because Newt likes hot showers

- Either he’s extremely smart or extremely stupid. There is no in between. He could be going on about diffusion and the movement of particles between galaxies but then he doesn’t know how to tie his own shoe lace without making a huge knot he can never undo.

- He has extreme survivors guilt from everything happened to the point where he has panic attacks because of it. He always feels so guilty for helping WICKED, which of course no one blames him for but he always feels like he betrayed them and on the worst days he feels like he deserved to die for helping them hurt his friends.

Newt

- my baby has separation anxiety (I’m sorry!!) he constantly needs reassurance that the others still like him and especially from Thomas after they get together (which happens I will not be told otherwise) that Thomas still loves him and isn’t going to leave him

- This is also because some of the other treat him differently after he was cured- sometimes treating him like he’s fragile and delicate which Newt hates- he fears that the others don’t trust him and feels like he’s not cured and he’s going to snap and hurt them

- Being sick is also a huge trigger for him- he has a weaker immune system than the others due to the fact that he isn’t immune like they are so he gets sick a lot more often- even if its just a cold he gets super on edge, constantly checking his arms and pulse to make sure he’s still himself

- Thomas is always a help during these periods when Newt is anxious and sick, reminding Newt that he’s cured and that he won’t leave him alone. He makes Newt tea and gives him loads of attention- which Newt doesn’t love at first because he’s independent and thinks he can do it himself until Thomas puts him arms around him and kisses him softly and tells him that he loves him, then Newt just melts

- Convinced he has an acoustic guitar because my sister mentioned to me once that he would suit it and I cannot get the idea out my head. He would play it super well and use it to take his mind off things when his brain gets hectic. He doesn’t like playing in front of people because he gets kinda self conscious when everyone’s looking at him but he plays for Thomas when they’re alone and Thomas can’t take his eyes off him because he looks so beautiful.

- He still writes a lot, journaling, poetry, little stories he makes up. It’s kind of like a therapy thing for him when he gets stressed out and he doesn’t want to talk about it he just writes it down. He occasionally lets Thomas read snippets of his poetry and writing and Thomas loves it. Also loves reading so he and Thomas read together until Thomas gets bored and lays on Newt’s chest while Newt reads to him and plays with him hair

Newtmas

- Nicknames>>> Newt calls Thomas things like Tommy, Love, Darling etc. Thomas calls Newt things like Babe, Baby, angel etc.

- They both get anxious about the other one overworking, Thomas gets worried about Newt’s leg because Newt insists on working a lot to make up for the time he couldn’t work while he was recovering. Thomas knows Newt is okay and that he is independent and capable of doing it himself but he still makes sure Newt takes breaks and massages it for him to take the pain away. Newt gets nervous that Thomas is running too much and not eating enough because Thomas feels like he’s obligated to do it and he needs to do his part, but Newt in turn, makes him take breaks and makes sure he’s eating enough etc

- They are so touch starved when they get to the safe haven they are practically hanging off each other, constantly touching in some way. They’re walking? They’re holding hands. They’re sitting? They are pressed against each other’s side if not on the other’s lap. They’re sleeping? They’re cuddling. It’s little things as first just as they’re getting used to being able to touch each other affectionately whenever they want to but they get comfortable very quickly because they are so familiar with each other.

- To everyone else , Thomas is always the talker and Newt is the listener. Thomas always has something to talk about, literally anything on his mind he yap about to Newt and Newt listens because he loves listening to Thomas babbling about this and that. Everyone else agrees that Newt is the quiet one but god forbid when they’re alone Newt does not shut up. He doesn’t talk as much in large groups but as soon as it’s just him and Thomas he talks and talks about anything and everything that he’s been keeping to himself all day. He gets kind of embarrassed about it when he realises how much he’s said but Thomas loves listening to him talk especially when it’s something he’s passionate about.

- Newt’s limp okay. Newt is very independent and hates the idea that he needs help to get around or that he needs to rely on other people’s support but Thomas always talks him down when Newt’s leg is sore. He protests at first but all Thomas has to do is look at him with his big brown eyes and place a gently hand on Newt’s thigh and Newt gives in. Thomas makes sure Newt rests his leg, carrying him everywhere just to hear Newt whine that he can do it himself but still cling to him, burying his face into the brunet’s hair.

- Thomas has also perfected to making of tea and prides himself in making to tea every time he’s sad or in pain. He always gives the cup a kiss first, he did as a joke first claiming that it tastes better when it’s made with love but now it’s a must do and Newt complains that it doesn’t taste the same if Thomas doesn’t give it a kiss first

Thank you for listening to me yap <3 I’m thinking of doing Ivy trio + Minho separately headcanons so let me know what you think

Ily guys <33

[originalsdesigns]

Mujer se mimetiza con la magica naturaleza

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Woman blends in with magical nature

* Comment what you think

* Value my work giving a like and follow me for more content

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

⌗︙・⚠︎ miguel o'hara unable to keep his desperation and urges at bay ⚠︎ ♡⸝⸝

Whenever a difficult and unsavory situation was to be presented before you, you would play dumb. With a confused expression on your face, and eyes filled with naivety like a lost puppy, you'd play dumb.

Not all the time of course, since this sort of act sometimes just wasn't enough to keep some situations from blowing up right in your face. Your feigned ignorance would be an acting catalyst for a much bigger problem, and it was only then that you'd drop the act and find a safe way to diffuse the issue before it coagulated into something worse. The number of times when you were just so aware—so hyper-aware of what could be yet another hot mess or a blessing in disguise—yet gave nothing but a sweet clueless smile, was countless.

The less you knew, the less you'd be hurt. Yeah, it's a terrible way of dealing with your problems, but you're self-aware enough to know that. It feels awful to act like a fool when you so badly want to say what's on your mind, to have to pent up your feelings and thoughts just because you don't want to ruin what you've worked so hard to build up. But you're a coward—a sniveling, pathetic little coward that can't even properly face their own problems like an adult—first and foremost, even if your cowardice provided but a temporary safety.

But by god, this strange little coping mechanism was probably the only thing that keeps you away from his touch, his twisted affections, and just everything about him. Miguel O'Hara is someone who is testing your ability, making it so hard to keep a calm face when all you want to do is fight your way out of his obsessive hold and run far away. His temper is far from pleasant, flaring red like hellfire and fangs bared as if he were ready to tear you to pieces, and it's clear he has the strength to do it if he so easily wanted to.

But he doesn't—he wouldn't—ever direct his animalistic anger at you, not physically. No matter how much you beg or try to bargain with him to please just let you go or try your hand at escaping his futuristically clean apartment, he never lets his physical prowess loose upon you, never raising a clawed hand to wrap around your fragile neck. No, the most he's ever done was grab onto your shoulders with a painful squeeze, voice raising more and more until you swear you felt a faint ringing in your ears. Upon seeing your pained expression, he loosened his grip but still didn’t release you. He coaxed you—forced you—into promising that you wouldn't try that again, his voice and face bordering on desperation as he sucks in deep breaths, cooling down his explosive temper.

It's not like you have much of a choice either. Especially when Miguel's affectionate touches and embraces become more intimate, dipping closer and closer into unwanted territory that leaves your heart racing. And not in a good way.

It's so hard to pretend, hard to play dumb when Miguel tries so hard to make his inconspicuous touches seem so innocent, so loving, as his hands draw close to areas he shouldn't even have permission to touch. When he forces you upon his lap, face buried in the side of your neck—you're even sure he inhales your scent—the feeling of something hot and stiff prodding at you from below is far from lost on you. It's a bit hard to be able to hold a conversation with what is essentially your kidnapper, whom you know retreats to the privacy of the bathroom to relieve himself when your supposed obliviousness becomes too much for him.

You know it's only a matter of time before Miguel's patience runs thin, and the touches that you always squirm away from will devolve and become even more obvious and more desperate. You know that Miguel is fighting every urge to just take you against whatever surface happens to be nearest, fighting the urge to leave your lower half numb until you could hardly walk anymore. You know that he wants nothing more than to fill you with him, your bodies clinging onto one another as you fill up and overwhelm each other's senses.

You're proven right when Miguel corners you against the wall, eyes red with carnal need and body so warm that it is more akin to flames about to burn uncontrollably. You're proven right when Miguel seizes you by the shoulders and hunches over to force his lips onto yours, swallowing up the sounds you make and using his strength to still you amidst all of your squirming. You're proven right when he begins to carry you to that disgustingly pristine bedroom of his, ignoring your attempts at escape while his touches and kisses begin to become more feverish and desperate.

Playing dumb did not make Miguel's pent-up desires magically go away. It only simply stalled the inevitable.

"Se siente muy bien—muy apretado.." Miguel pants above you as his hips buck against your skin, rendering you unable to bite back the warbled moans you'd been trying so hard to swallow down. He becomes excited upon hearing your cries, barely able to suppress himself from smothering his body against yours. But he seems to remember that he doesn't have to hold himself back anymore, doesn't have to keep his desire for you at bay.

The last words he whispers before pushing his lips to yours are, "Te amo tanto mi cariño." Miguel moans into your mouth, already drunk on your lips like the lovesick fool he is. Not even a few seconds pass before he's deepening the kiss, furiously invading and exploring every single last inch he could humanly reach. There is no room for oxygen—Miguel is barely even breathing in the kiss, too focused on feeling your lips upon his—and you struggle to take even the simplest of breaths. Even if you try to yank yourself away from the overwhelming kiss, Miguel would just find a way to meld his mouth to yours again.

Your arms are stuck together above your head—laser-red webbing holds them tight together and sturdily to the headboard—and no amount of struggling would do good in loosening your limbs. Miguel keeps your legs spread with his waist, leaving no room for you to kick him away or curl your legs up defensively. It also provides him with the perfect angle in with to animalistically pound into you, burying himself as deep as he can possibly can. When he pulls his hips back, he's quick to push his cock back inside, unwilling to leave your insides for even a second.

Miguel is too big, forcing your insides to accommodate his throbbing shaft as it stretched you far wider than you'd thought to be possible. Even if he had so lovingly spread you out, thick fingers rubbing against your velvet-soft walls, it still wasn't enough to prepare you when he pushed just the swollen tip past sensitive muscles. He tried his best to be gentle and patient, he really did, but the sight of your sniveling expression effortlessly tore his restraint into shreds. He couldn't bring himself to stop the rapid movements of his hips, unable to bite back his desperation to feel your fluttering walls around his thick shaft.

And now he's like a parasite, trying to worm his way into your body, desperate to feel your warmth around him. Relentlessly, he unravels your body bit by bit, not caring for the damage that he leaves behind. He only cares to carve himself into your very soul, merge himself with you until you and him are all but one.

You feel like you're going to die; you can hear your own heartbeat pounding violently inside your head, and your face feels like someone lit it on fire. You're sure that you look like an absolute mess. The worst part is, you can feel ebbs of pleasure eating away at your nerves, leaving you feeling utterly humiliated at how Miguel is forcing your body to so easily surrender to his touch and twisted love. This is the absolute worst.

A shriek escapes from your lips and into the kiss as Miguel drops nearly the entirety of his weight on your body, pushing his fat cock right up into a sensitive spot. On reflex you jerk your head away, breaking the kiss as you let out a broken moan. It takes you a few seconds to realize that you came. You orgasmed. Miguel made you come undone just like that. And you know that he knows. He moans and wheezes, hips moving like a jackhammer as the sudden tightening of your walls forces his own orgasm to come forth quicker.

"Te amo--teamoteamoteamoteamo—" Miguel chants it over and over, endlessly pouring out his love for you in the only way he can before he finally cums. He can feel the way your walls flutter and pulse as they milk him for his worth, and he can see how you snivel and whine from overstimulation. You truly have no idea as to how much you truly affect, how even the simplest action on your part sends his mind and heart into overdrive. You drive him crazy.

Exhausted—no, you know that he's using it as a cover just to shower you in postcoital affections—, he nuzzles himself into the base of your neck, pressing lazy kisses near where your pulse beats rapidly. You shudder against him, the sensations feeling like death clawing against your body, but you're too out of it to even try and push him away, so you're forced to lay there beneath him. He whispers sweet nothings, surely about his endless love for you, but you don't want to hear that. Anything but hearing him spout nonsense about his obsessive love for you.

"Otra vez," he murmurs against your skin, fangs just barely coming close to pressing down on your neck. His cock twitches back to life inside your overstimulated walls, ignoring the pleasurable pain of his own body trying to come down from its high just so he could fuck you senseless again. Miguel pulls away, to drink up the sight of his cariño once more beneath him, your form shivering so adorably—he can feel himself shiver from pure arousal alone. Miguel thinks that you're the most gorgeous person he's ever seen in his damn life.

"Let's go again mi amor."

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[the-s1lly-corner]

Could I request Vox x a hyperactive child reader, who can't be left alone two seconds because they would make a mess around the house?? (Ofc it's platonic, and this was mostly requested for funsies.)

-🍄

Platonic Vox x hyper!child!reader

And now we start stocking the queue

I kind of want to try my hand at redesigning some hazbin characters, I've already done alastor but idk who to do next

Bold of you to assume hes not just going to give you an electronic, or just hire someone to keep an eye on you while hes working

Actually not even just working, I wouldn't be surprised if vox has people working at his place; gardners and cleaners you know?

Dont get me wrong he would still bond with you, when hes not busy

Being a vee is hard work you know

I personally dont think he would want kids, but he doesnt make a terrible father all things considered. Theres certainly worse

You get the very best stuff; the best clothes, the newest tech, the coolest toys. Vox has the money for it

Would put you in some expensive high end school if it's available in the pride ring

Going back to having people working at his house, having a few hired housekeepers around makes things much easier since you're prone to making messes

When vox himself is looking over you he can get a little stressed out, but can fairly easily diffuse any problems

His hypno stuff can come in handy if you're being particularly rowdy or destructive.. doesnt really use it to stun or control you more so just to pacify you. Admittedly not the best way but its vox, hes not exactly the best person

[lukes-curls]

as for this week’s hyper-fixation… *drum roll pls* i have been watching hannibal !!!! it’s so gay i was giggling at will n hannibal in s2 and the tension is crazy.

the theory about them both becoming one is literally spelled out in red black and white in the first episode and just about every single one after that… like the recurring clip of blood being diffused in water, hello!

like its so clearly given that will is water (or has something in common with it) i.e. fishing, sweating, he is fluid, capable of morphing around any given thing, filling the cracks and vessels he’s being poured into. but water is typically un-contained, it lacks concentration… unlike blood aka hannibal who has lived so many years, taken so many lives. he has distilled his very existence into a potent form. still liquid, he can slip and fill any container and yet so much richer, thicker, concentrated. his sense of self is so strong and in opposition will’s was (and is?) certainly open to being informed.

buuut red blood cells that are dribbled into a solution with higher water concentration compared to their contents (eg pure water) will gain water by osmosis, swell up and burst. water will diffuse from a higher water concentration outside the cell to a lower water concentration inside the cell. this means in spite of whatever potency either fluid has; they will ultimately be changed by the other. this is spelled out in the FIRST EPISODE. genius.

anyways it’s so fucking good u should absolutely watch it. i am up to the first episode of season 3 and why is hannibal a good husband????