#he can't keep his hands out of his hair

[tkachukitup]

what's your favorite phone app? [edited from nhl's video]

[blotsjunkyard]

[ratwithhands]

Fun fact I used to consume a lot of Land of the Lustrous stuff.

Anyways this is one of my many Land of the Lustrous OCs, Vivianite. Mohs hardness of 1.5, dark green/blue in colour, and very old. Due to the nature of his weak composition, Vivianite can't actually do much of anything, and has had to live under very specific conditions.

Vivianite wears a tight full body uniform to hold any chipped pieces in place, and is kept in a box stuffed with loose cloth to ensure minimal damage. If he comes into contact with light, he begins to oxidize and darken, so he's kept in a windowless room with curtains over the entrance.

That's all to say he's isolated and bored. He spends much of his time inactive, but he'll jump at the opportunity for conversation if there's someone around. Certain gems visit him to chat, get guidance, or give him the recent news. A task given to some gems is to clear his room of dust, and maybe bring him some books if he's up for it.

Vivian sees himself as an older sibling/friend to many of the other gems, and as such he's very keen on providing a listening ear and giving advice where possible to those who need it. He's essentially emotional support in a can.

Other notes/details:

not all gems know Vivian exists! He's hidden away so most gems wouldn't see him unless they were actively looking for him. A lot of the older ones know about him, but the younger ones don't

Rutile is endlessly tired of having to glue him back together so often due to his softness, which is part of why he has a tighter uniform to keep all his broken pieces in place

Vivian struggles with walking, he tends to be slow and stumbly

the tanks in Vivian's room are for jellyfish. Gems who are sent to clean his room have to switch out the jellyfish too. They're there to provide a faint light source so he doesn't go completely inactive

Vivian, despite living in a box in the dark, has a lot of technical knowledge about things as a result of millennia of going through the library collection. He' a living encyclopedia and can usually offer some answers if a gem has questions on a particular subject

his internal structure is basically a lot of shards stuck together like fibers, so he does minor repairs on himself by affixing strands of his hair into empty spots. He's had his fingers repaired and replaced this way often

In the few instances where Vivian has gone outside, he has an abnormally high amount of energy as a result of his inclusions being able to work at full capacity in the light

If I remember anything else I'll add it, anyways have a good day!

[mattodore]

there's something about the way you are that makes me… ♪

[mementoasts]

jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london

[jokerownsmysoul]

[sysig]

VUXisms (Patreon)

[starpros-sunshine]

Haven't rambled about this cg in a while but this thing is living in my head rent free

[everymlmhybrid]

This is awesome just remembered I get to write the frottage scene soon assuming I actually write more than 4 words this week.

[theheadlessgroom]

https://beatingheart-bride.tumblr.com/post/714272738944155648/beatingheart-bride-theheadlessgroom

@beatingheart-bride

The opera went off without a hitch for its two first acts: No disembodied voices echoing around the auditorium (nor did the new chandelier, installed at the beginning of the year, rattle precariously above the audience’s heads; the police took great care to put men up near it, lest they have a repeat of Il Muto’s curtain call), no rats raining from the rafters, not even a whisper of a ghost being around. There was still tension felt among the cast, the crew, and the managers, but so far, all had gone well.

And all continued to go well as the third act began, as the Don, draped in a hooded black cloak, sought to seduce the beautiful Aminta, exuding confidence from his anonymity-at least, until Aminta herself proved to be just as bound and determined to seduce her mystery suitor, taking her would-be lover by surprise with her forward flirtations, as they together approached The Point of No Return.

Randall gulped from behind the veil as he watched Emily skip out onto the stage, singing cheerfully as she flounced around, spritely and light-footed (a small showcase of her dancing talents as well as her vocal ones): Truly, she was beautiful in the peachy tones of Aminta’s dress, evoking spring-turning-summer (especially with a rose blooming in her blonde locks), with her tall black boots and black trim of her gown hinting at a mature streak many often overlooked. She was everything he dreamed of in the role and more.

Am I a fool? he thought to himself as he watched her, preparing for their long-awaited duet: Was this even a good idea, putting himself out onstage in front of an ocean of people, right under the noses of the police? Should he have just stayed in the attic like Emily suggested in her letter? An uncertainty began to creep into his gut...

…but as soon as Emily looked at him, and he began to sing, none of that mattered to him now, as he found himself melting effortlessly into the role of Don Juan, just as she had so beautifully melted into the role of Aminta. To be quite honest, the title character was the only one he hadn’t made any casting suggestions for in the libretto, as a part of him had always longed to play it himself. He never, ever imagined that he ever would, granted, and yet...here he was: Singing for a captivated audience with his angel.

And right under Morgan’s nose too! he thought delightedly, catching a glimpse of the pianist in the pit as he turned all of his focus on Emily and their performance.

[erosire]

It's always cold here; viktor tells you it's to help keep him awake when he tends to push through the late hours of night and early mornings, just before the sun rises to kiss Piltover hello. with each complaint that slips past your lips he shrugs with a faint smirk, eyes and hands far to busy on his work to pay any mind to you, "bring a jacket next time" is all he says. though, the smirk contorts to a smile when he hears your protesting, whether it be something you've said countless times before or something new that makes him scoff softly—other times it'll be because he can feel how you've rolled your eyes and took the empty seat beside him, elbow propped up on the table and cheek resting against your knuckles. there's little to no small talk; you've come to learn viktor keeps as quiet as a mouse when he works, only letting out an occasional hum or replying to a comment or question you have while you watch him. nothing more, nothing less.

hours will fly by and you've long decided to rest your head, using your arms as a cushion. he'll have moved in closer, still working, though he glances down at you from the corner of his eye every tens of minutes; studying how your shoulders move ever so slightly with each inhale and exhale, the soft sounds you might let out whether it be a snore or an indication of a dream you may be having—or maybe it's because you feel his cold hand against your skin. his arm drapes around your shoulders as he leans down, immersing you in a gentle and careful embrace whilst leaving a kiss into your hair. he pulls away with a sigh and mumbles a string of complaints of how you should've stayed home where it was nice and warm, and far more comfortable than his little lab—but, he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy having you here, it's much better than yearning for the moment he can return home to you. to watch how you greet him as he climbs into bed, to share a quick kiss or two before lady sleep claims the two of you.

he makes his way around the room, opening and closing drawers until he spots fabric folded neatly; he doesn't remember what the purpose of it was, maybe a scrapped project or...well, it didn't matter now, it was soft, oddly matted and long enough. it was perfect. viktor makes his way back to you, hoping the goosebumps that sprinkled your skin would settle as he wrapped the fabric around you like a makeshift blanket. he tries his best to keep you down; hushing you as you stir and try to sit up. "love, what're you doing? are we leaving now?" he chuckles lightly at the grogginess of your voice and how you squint to see him despite how close he is. "the usual and not now but soon, I promise my dear," he tells you, tucking parts of the fabric under your arms the best he could, enough to make you snug. you yawn then ramble about the dream you just had, viktor listens as always as he continues to tinker on his little project, humming or occasionally saying things like "oh really?" or "how nice" sarcastically when you describe the weird part of your dream, until your tired babbling slowly gets replaced with silence. he smiles and looks down at you much like before, love laces his voice as he declares his for you, placing one final kiss of the night on your head before going back to work.

sorry if there's errors im eepy and too lazy to fix any

a h em heem uhm ok...ay. okay. i need to go lay down now

[m-ayo-o]

18+ oral, reader shaved her 🐱 size kink, cumming in pants, multiple rounds etc...

a shaved pussy for Choso is like a meal served on a silver platter

he doesn't care about body hair, honestly. he loves any kind of pussy.

but when you've freshly shaved it's like you're inviting him to eat you out and it makes him more eager than usual.

you get out of the shower and lie back on the bed, applying various moisturisers and creams to your body, but you're stopped dead in your tracks when he walks in and sees you hairless.

"oh, baby~"

it was a straight up moan and he hasn't even got his hands on you yet.

but it's only a few seconds until you've dropped all of your bottles of cream and his tongue is between your pussy lips, sliding up and down, searching for that cute little pearl of your clit. he circles it and taps it and gets you cumming in minutes, then he switches to licking your pretty pussy all over. after you're covered in his saliva he spreads you and shoves his whole face right between your legs to make out with your pussy.

"mmmm, fuckkk, that's a fresh fucking pussy!!"

he moans into you.

"th-thank youuuuuu--- you taste good, like honey, keep cumming- -ughh-- again, again, please, please--"

he's so satisfied from giving you oral he ruts his body up against the bed and makes himself cum from the friction alone. and the feeling of your perfectly shaved pussy gets him off every time. he pumps his load through his boxers and gets the bed all wet and sticky, but the poor man is still rock hard from looking at you.

he has to strip off his shorts and show you the mess he's made until you're asking him to put it in!

"please, Cho, will you fuck me?"

and you don't have to ask twice because he's already fitting that oversized tip into your entrance and whining that you're too small.

"baby, Cho, 'm not small y-your dick is just--"

he urges you to say it, forcing more of himself inside until you're almost choking on your words.

"s-soo big~~~"

you finally finish when his tip smushes into your walls and buries into you deep and hard.

his balls start smacking you with a heavy rhythm of pumping as he holds you to the bed and forces you to orgasm over his cock too many times to count.

"fuckk- fuck, Chosooo- s-slow down-- please-"

but he can't hear you.

he's staring at that pretty shaved cunt of yours.

he's already cum inside you once.

but he's still hard.

"won't go down- can't fucking stop--"

he starts tearing up as he continues his desperate rutting, fucking another milky load into you.

"one more, plee--ease--" he begs, but you know it won't be just one more. he's going to fuck you till his body gives out.

you've got to be more careful next time you shave.

choso

[bitten-fruit]

Simon forgets how strong he is

18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words

just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!

Simon forgets how to be gentle.

When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.

But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.

The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.

And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.

You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"

The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.

His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.

Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."

"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.

So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.

His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.

With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."

His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.

"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.

Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.

You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.

"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"

Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."

Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.

"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.

"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."

"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."

You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.

His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.

You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."

[dhoranbolt]

I need reader who's shy/easily embarrassed, and Sukuna who just pops up whenever to say the most unhinged out of pocket shit on the side of Yuji's face just to see her go bright red.

read fic here

Sukuna who takes the opportunity to lick her face when Yuji tries to reach out and move some hair from her face. The gasp she let's out is choked, and Sukuna grins as Yuji is quick to pull away with a sound of disgust.

"That's not all I can do with my tongue. I'll show you one of these days, when the brat let's me out to play." It's a threat and a promise. Sukuna can't wait to take the drivers seat and devour her.

Sukuna who taunts the both of them for his own amusement, keeping her walking on eggshells whenever she's around Yuji

Who pops an eye open to watch as she bends over to pick something up, taking a moment to admire her ass before he opens his mouth. And when he finally does, "I cant see the swell of your cunt, bend some more for me." Yuji's quick to slap a hand over his cheek and ignore the sting, only for Sukuna to make his way to the back of his hand and cackle

Sukuna who isn't paying attention to what the brats are doing until he hears her moaning. Cracking an eye opened to see she's putting food in her mouth, eyes closed and a faint smile pulling at her lips.

"Do you always moan like that when you put things in your mouth? Or are you just showing off for me." She nearly chokes on the food, eyes going wide and cheeks burning red as she looks at him.

Sukuna who refuses to acknowledge the fact he enjoys her reactions for anything more than his own entertainment.

But who does start to notice the subtle change in Yuji's behavior towards her

Who makes it his new goal in life -to keep himself entertained of course, no other reason- to make the both of them so uncomfortable in each other's presence.

Because if he can't physically toy with his new (not favorite) human, he'll gladly do it from the passengers seat of his vessel and make everyone involved miserable.

@saiki-enthusiast here's the tag!! I hope you enjoy 😊 I have a fic that's like a follow up to this that I'm still working on, it's a little dark/ noncon though, if anyone was interested!

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

I need Simon Riley who realizes just how much he loves you when he has a night terror.

He shoots out of bed with a shout, quickly looking to your side just to see it empty. His heart quickens even faster, images of your dead body, blood pouring out of your mouth and ears, eyes frantic before they still and glaze over. Remembering the scream he lets out as he shakes you, begging you.

"Please, please don't fuckin leave, love. God, not you. Please, you promised!"

He's having a panic attack and before he even processes it, he's running to the bathroom. Throwing him head into the toilet bowl, puking everything up as if his entire body is rejecting the very possibility of you no longer being there. He can't stop the tears ripping out of him and his fast, suffocating breaths stinging his throat as if the vomit isn't even there.

He doesn't even register your hand on his back, your panicked calling out to him.

"Baby? Baby what's wrong? Please talk to me" You beg, brushing his hair back, trying to hold onto him.

His wide, tear filled eyes meet yours and he throws himself into your arms, holding onto you like a lifeline. His crying doesn't stop, the intense emotions still overwhelming his senses.

"God please never leave me. I swear to god I'll be the best for you. I'll keep you safe, nothin's gonna happen to you" He swear as if he'd be your own guardian angel.

"Baby what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You pet his hair, beginning to realize what's happening.

"I can't lose you, I can't. Not you. Please, I can't." He cries into your shirt, trying to calm down but he feels genuine fear that he doesn't feel outside the battlefield. You hold him as his breathing slows down, exhaustion overtaking him. You settle against the wall, fingers combing through his hair as you both fall asleep. Safe to say he doesn't have anymore nightmares that night.

(Friendly reminder that traumatized men aren't always fully numb and military men can have feelings !!)

[whateveriwant]

The 141 getting you to stay in bed

It gets a little spicy towards the end so 18+ please

Soap

Waking up to the feeling of a numb arm is extremely unpleasant, but you suppose it comes with the territory when trying to cuddle 200+ pounds of rugged Scotsman

You manage to free your trapped limb and roll to the other side of the bed, but that space behind you remains empty for only about three seconds before Johnny's pressing himself flat to your back 

Now with his arms around your waist, he holds you tight to him, mumbling unintelligibly against the back of your head

He drifts back to sleep quickly enough, his grip on you starting to loosen, only for it to tighten again when he feels you try to wriggle out of his hold

The incoherent grumbles from his throat grow increasingly displeased the more you try to shift away from him, until finally he huffs a grumpy, “Quit it,” into your scalp, hooking his leg over yours 

If you still don't listen, he'll have no choice but to take drastic measures to keep you still. Fed up with your squirming, he simply rolls on top of you, pinning you to the mattress below him

You can try beating on his back, telling him that you can't breathe, but he just shrugs and says, “Use my breath.”

Don't even bother trying to explain how oxygen doesn't work like that, because he doesn't care. “Tough,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck. “‘Cause I'm no' movin’.” And by extension, neither are you

Gaz

Kyle is also a stage 5 clinger, but he's less boa constrictor and more baby koala

So when your alarm goes off at 8am precisely, it's no surprise that the man behind you grumbles in protest

“It's Saturday,” he bemoans. “Why you getting up so bloody early?” When you tell him you like to keep your routine even on the weekends, he just groans and mutters, “Five more minutes.”

You can try to squirm and wrestle out of his hold, but he'll just tighten his arm around your midsection, keeping his front firmly glued to your back

But you need to get up! You have to pee for goodness’ sake! 

“Use the empty bottle on your nightstand,” he mumbles into your hair, peeking an eye open as you crane to look back at him. The look you give him at such a horrid suggestion has him sighing. “Alright, fine,” he relents and releases you. “But be quick. Bed gets cold without you.”

Once you've answered the call of nature, don't be surprised to find Kyle waiting for you directly outside the bathroom. He's wrapped up in your comforter like an oversized burrito, only his face and feet visible as they peek out from under the plush cover

With a sleepy pout, he holds his hand out for you, tugging you back to bed with him. Oh, he’ll make sure you get those five more minutes alright. Even if he has to drag you kicking and screaming

Ghost

First of all, don't even kid yourself into thinking you'll stand a chance of waking up before him or sneaking out of bed without him knowing. This man is the epitome of a light sleeper, whenever he does sleep, that is

So when you do finally wake up, it comes as no surprise to see Simon already up too. But just because you're both awake now doesn't mean you have to immediately be productive; quite the opposite, in fact

With how busy and stressed he is all the time, Simon loves nothing more than to just lie in bed with you and do nothing for hours

If you try to get up, he's stopping you with a gentle hand on your wrist, his voice quiet but firm as he commands, “Stay.”

You'll lay back down for a bit to appease him, but it won't be long before you feel guilty since you have so many things you should be doing instead

But actually, no, you don't have  anything to worry about. He's already taken care of everything before you woke up, he humbly informs you

The cat's been fed, the bin’s been taken out to the curb, he's even gotten your breakfast typed up on his phone – just give him the word and he'll place the order

So now when he opens his arms for you, having you bury your face in his chest, you've got nothing to worry about except savoring this moment with him 

Price

John is also a very light sleeper, so it only takes .02 seconds of you trying to stand from the bed for his bear-like snores to cease and his eyes to flit wide open

He'll grab you by the shirt hem, mumbling, “Where’re y’ goin’?” But it doesn't really matter what your answer is because his response is always the same: “No y’r not.” And pulls you back down. “Y’r stayin’ right here.”

He'll lie on his stomach, face smushed in the pillow, a big, warm hand tucked under your shirt resting against your belly

With nothing better to do, you scroll through your phone, catching up on your socials, the news, etc., but it's not long before you hear him grumble, “Put that away, will ya? ‘S too early to be meltin’ your brain with that thing.”

Well, what does he expect you to do? Lie there and stare at the ceiling for an hour? “Expect you to be good,” he tells you. “Don't make me get the handcuffs out again.”

Now that you have to laugh at. If he thinks it's too early to be on your phone, it's definitely too early for that

He smirks, opening his eye just a sliver, and the hand on your stomach begins to rub soft circles. “Is that so?” he taunts, his touch sneakily edging downwards. And when he slips beneath the band of your shorts, well…

Let's just say you're not leaving that bed anytime soon