#head canon

[justaz]

BIG fan of two sides of the same coin running incredibly hot and the other running incredibly cold.

people who brush hands with merlin wincing bc holy fuck that was like touching ice and merlin just smiles and wanders off. he’s like a cat, he likes to lounge in the sun and soak up the heat. he’s always been a huge fan of summer bc it was the time when the sun was out the most and there were rarely storms or clouds to block out the heat. he like farming with him mom bc of this bc he got to spend time with her while being in the sun. he never tanned tho. for some reason. he always remained as pale as the snow.

the knights are training during a hot summer day and merlin is cleaning a blade so he’s taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves so they don’t get dirty. gwaine wanders over to grab and drink and makes conversation with merlin and nudges his arm and pauses before placing his hands on his arm. he looks up at merlin who is staring at him in confusion. gwaine asks if he’s feeling alright and merlin’s like ?? yeah?? and gwaine just keeps touching him bc fuck its hot out today and merlin is freezing cold to the touch despite sotting in the sun and it’s offering him a bit of relief. arthur ofc barks and gwaine to get back to training and he forces himself to leave. he does make a note to cuddle up to merlin when it gets too hot bc merlin can definitely make him feel better.

no one really touches arthur as he’s the crown prince and all his servants did their best to not touch him directly and if they did it was really quick and professional. gaius always had a hard time figuring when arthur would get a fever bc he always ran hot so it always felt like he had a fever. arthur loved winter bc the snow and cool temperature. his nursemaids and servants would insist on bundling him up but often times arthur would just tear it off when he was outside, he never froze or got sick from it either.

when arthur takes the knights out on an expedition during winter and they’re all bundled up and shivering while arthur is just enjoying the cool air. merlin is shivering the most tho despite being wrapped in about fifty layers of fabric so arthur sheds his cape and hands it to merlin who wraps it around himself with a slight gasp and comment about how its so warm. the knights start a bidding war about who gets to sleep next to arthur when they stop to rest. it doesn’t matter who won. they all just piled on/around arthur and steal his warmth. merlin resides in the middle though bc he’s the coldest so arthur was willing to offer all his warmth to him while the rest stole it.

after they get married, merthur cuddle all night. merlin is freezing and arthur is burning so merlin cools arthur down while arthur warms merlin up. it’s an equal exchange. they’re also touching all the time no matter the temperature. if its summer and most people think its too hot to so much as be looked at? arthur has an arm up merlin’s tunic and wrapped around his waist cooling down while merlin is stealing him warmth. in winter, merlin is the koala and is stealing arthur’s warmth which he doesn’t mind bc merlin’s touch just reminds him of his favorite season.

[ramennoodlezzzao3]

Outsiders headcannons

-Darry

He canonically is skinny-ish with lots of muscle

-Two-Bit

He is chubby-ish, he has big arms and a bit of stomach but he is well built and can still fight.

-Dallas

He is average. He eats all three meals and sometimes some food in between, but he normally burns all of his calories off in fights or just walking around town.

-Steve

He is also pretty average, has a bit of muscle on him and pretty big arms but the rest of him is ✨snatched✨

-Sodapop

Same as Darry just a bit less muscle and little shorter (I HC 6’0)

-Johnny

Was underweight for a long time until he met the Curtis’, he then became a semi normal weight (I HC the gang was complete when pony turned 7, so he would have been around the age of 9 or 10)

-Ponyboy

He is SKEENY. He has a bit of muscle in his arms, stomach and legs. He eats A LOT but normally forgets to eat breakfast on the weekends and runs off the calories during track practice.

[dangeroflove]

Katara and Sokka give tote bag sibling vibes. I just feel like they would have some really cool tote bags.

[moonstonediamond]

Ok so it's time for my...

Book of Bill headcannons/theories

So first off this is coming from someone who hasn't gotten the book or been on the website but has seen multiple people talk/theorize about it so these are more of head cannons my brain cooked up, not theories but if I get more evidence than maybe they would be theories so

Number 1 what if the book of Bill is just Bill's journal/ would it be classified as his journal?

I came up with this thinking if Bill wrote the book and based on what everyone said about it so far it looks like he wrote some personal stuff down in it so does that mean it's a journal

Also side note keeping a journal is normally recommended for people in therapy so...

Number 2 What if the book is actually Bill's consciousness being copied/divided

This came mostly from a few things,

1 apparently any thing that looks like Bill is a window for him to look through and from the screenshots of the book it looks like there's plenty of pictures of Bill

2 If I remember correctly Alex Hirsch said when the book was closed Bill was dead and when the book was open Bill was alive a lot of people took it figeritivly as in oh if we put the book down we are forgetting Gravity Falls, but what if it wasn't, what if the book is Bill or apart of him that is why the front page is him trying to make a deal...

Also side note I love the detail of this one screenshot where Bill has a scratch on his face where Stanley punched him (here's a screenshot from google)

Also if anyone has any head cannons or any evidence to turn these head cannons into theories let me know

[rookieoneil]

Bi Visibility Day!

[ahfrickenfrick]

nightwing being hurt in the field, and over comms he can’t get out what was wrong, nearly in shock, and jason puts on his best batman™️ voice and says “robin, report.”

and it snaps dick out of it enough to say concussion, possible broken ribs, and a gash in his side.

no one talks about it, and then a year later, damian does the same thing to tim

[star--bird]

This is more of a fanon Jason head canon but what if as an adult Jason found himself picking up various mindfulness hobbies and therefore has acquired lots of skills that contrast his character such as baking, knitting and/or crochet, gardening, film photography, birdwatching, ect. None of them ever really stuck around, but every so often he suprises people with the fact that he engaged in those hobbies. Here are some scenarios I envision happening:

- Damian has to bring something for a bake sale the next day and he doesn't want to ask Alfred because it's almost midnight and Jason is like "no worries I got you" and manages to make some pretty decent eclairs.

- Jason is wearing a sweater and Dick compliments it and Jason responds with "Thanks I made it" and Dick is confused because Jason can knit?

- He brings Alfred a jar of preserves and Alfred is like "???????" and Jason informs him that he grew strawberries in his balcony garden and thought Alfred would like some.

[stevieschrodinger]

When Corroded Coffin make it big, Eddie leans into the persona in a big way. Face full of black and white make up, often made to look like blood is dripping from his mouth. Big, wild hair, usually shirtless, usually leather pants covered in chains, fingers covered in rings.

Eddie does photo shoots in the get up; Eddie wears the persona to interviews. He accepts awards dressed that way. That is what Eddie Munson looks like.

Eddie Munson maintains that he 'doesn't do relationships' and is famous for having a different girl on his arm to every event. They never go home with him.

So when Eddie wants to live his life, he just...doesn't wear makeup. Puts the hair in a man bun. Takes off the jewellery. Steals one of his husbands happy sweaters.

Eddie Munson, possibly one of the most famous people in the world, can walk with Steve in public and never get recognised.

[airenaiy]

That time he survived getting struck by lightning and they can finally be happy

[emichevy]

I have a HC that Kurt is Romani/practices Romani traditions since his foster mother and siblings are canonically Romani. Ive learned a little about the culture from watching and finding actual Roma people online and such and learning about their culture and traditional clothings, so I drew Kurt in an outfit referenced from it!

I want to learn more about the culture and what I can and can’t portray- since I know a lot of Romani culture is closed practices for protection and preservation purposes- so if anyone knows any good reliable sources I’d love to know!

A lot of what I’ve learned came from this creator @ florida.florian on TikTok! And that’s who I actually referenced Kurt’s outfit from too!

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅱ ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₃˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, explicit content, spectrophilia, ghost/human, rough sex, "unprotected" sex, creampie, somnophilia, cunnilingus. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after coming home from a grueling day of work, instead of being able to relax, the feeling of someone watching you has you scared. ꒰m!ghost ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

CLICK

𝒯 he soft glow of your lamp casts a warm yellow light throughout the desolate home, but it fails to dispel the darkness that lingers. You make a mental note, weariness seeping into your thoughts, to buy a new lightbulb from the mart later in the week. The dimness of the room matches the heaviness in your heart, as you feel the weight of loneliness settle upon your shoulders, part of you knows you should be used to coming home with no one to greet you, but it still stings nonetheless.

Struggling to remove your gym shoes, you let out an annoyed groan, exhaustion causing you to stumble and collide into the wall with a thump. Finally freeing your feet, you stretch your arms above your head and let out a tired sigh. Your muscles ache from the long day at work, and the fatigue seems to seep into your bones. Your eyes flutter closed from the effects of sleep deprivation but your stomach grumbles with a ravenous craving for a thick pastrami sandwich. The thought of sinking your teeth into the juicy meat and tangy mustard momentarily distracts you from the weariness that engulfs you.

Discarding your wool coat onto the carpeted floor, you shuffle yourself wearily down the hallway towards the kitchen, fully expecting it to still be a mess from three days ago. The cluttered countertops and unwashed dishes serve as a constant reminder of your chaotic schedule and the lack of time you have for yourself. It’s as if the mess mirrors the disarray in your own life, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed by it all. At times you missed living with your parents and not having any responsibilities. Being an adult was so stress-inducing you just wanted to lay in bed and cry sometimes.

Leaning against the hallway wall, you find solace in pressing your forehead against the cool, flowered wallpaper. Sleep weighs heavily on your eyelids, momentarily clouding your vision and tempting you to succumb to its embrace. And just as your legs threaten to give way, a gentle chill dances down your spine, jolting you awake with a surge of electricity. A tired sigh escapes your lips as you run your palm down your face, mustering the strength to continue towards the kitchen. The chaotic mess that greets you almost makes you cry.

Resting against the entryway to the kitchen, a pang of regret washes over you. Deep down, and not even buried that far truly, you wish you hadn’t taken your coworker’s shift. Despite your fondness for the woman, working two consecutive twelve-hour shifts was more than you could handle. And as the new nurse in the hospital, you were an easy target for those who wanted to shirk their responsibilities, they left you to run around like a headlesss chicken.

You finally gather the energy to carry yourself into the kitchen, reaching for a cup from the cupboard and turning on the sink faucet, allowing lukewarm water to fill it. Impatiently you can’t wait for the tap to run cold and quickly knock back the glass, the satisfaction of quenching your thirst outweighs the temperature. Slouching against the sink, you take a moment to stretch, feeling your joints crack and your muscles slacken. You flutter your eyes shut to stop yourself from gazing at the mess that’s your kitchen.

Placing the glass on the worn countertop, you set your medical bag on the kitchen island and head towards the staircase, overwhelmed by the longing for a shower and some rest. However, as you approach the hallway, a sudden shiver runs down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise on your arms. Your legs momentarily go numb, and you manage to grab hold of the stair railing, preventing yourself from stumbling. After being on your feet for a whole day, you were shocked you had not immediately collapsed when you walked in the door.

A sudden sense of unease washes over you when you survey your modest home, the horrid sensation of being observed seeping into your skin and festering in your mind. It’s as if the feeling surrounds you, leaving you breathless and on edge. Your eyes dart between the dimly lit kitchen and the shadowy staircase, it’s as if the shadows themselves are in motion. Objects seem out of place, and didn’t you leave your bag on the island?

Confusion creases your brow as you search for your bag, it takes a while but you discover it leaning against the couch’s armrest in the living room. Your unease deepens, causing a slight twitch in your eye. The entire situation leaves you unsettled. Anxiously, you bite down on your lower lip, feeling the sting as your teeth sink into the flesh. Once more, the sensation of being watched intensifies, as though someone is observing your every move, listening to your every thought, and knowing your every action. Goosebumps raise on your skin, skittering down your back.

You shake your head in disbelief and pinch the bridge of your nose, the weight of exhaustion and hunger bearing down on you. ( the latter was something you would fix in the morning, as you did not have the energy to cook anything.) The darkness of the hallway only adds to your supposed delusion. With a heavy sigh, you push yourself away from the railing and begin the arduous climb up the stairs.

Stopping just shy of the top of the stairs, you reach your hand out and glide it along the cool walls beside you, feeling for the light switch— one may think that you would know where the light was in a house that you’ve lived in for two years, but you seemed to fail to find it every time. Your palm glides along the walls, desperately searching for the elusive light switch. It’s a futile attempt, as if the house itself is playing tricks on you. The anticipation builds as you inch closer to the top, your body tensing with each step.

Finally, the click of the switch echoes through the silence. But it’s not your doing. Panic sets in as you realize someone else must be in the house, but soon the hallway is bathed in harsh light, exposing every shadow and corner. Yet no one is there. You stare at your hand, questioning whether you had unknowingly flipped the switch.

Ignoring the fear that threatens to consume you, you force yourself to continue. Quickly, you make your way to your room, seeking solace behind the closed door. But even within the confines of your sanctuary, the feeling of being watched persists. It’s as if an unseen presence lingers, peering into the depths of your soul.

Your skin tingles in question as the ethereal sensation of fingers delicately cupping your cheek sends shivers down your spine (truly almost nonexistent). A surge of unease washes over you, even though you can’t see anything, you can sense an intense, ravenous gaze fixated on you. Shaking off the remnants of your episode, you take a hesitant step forward, determined to overcome any lingering apprehension. With a burst of courage, you scurry to your dresser and retrieve an oversized T-shirt, a memento stolen from your older brother years ago, along with a pair of plain black cotton panties.

No matter what strange occurrences were unfolding, you refuse to let them hinder your plans for a hot shower. The past twenty-four hours have left you covered in sweat and grime, and you are determined to cleanse yourself of it all.

With eager anticipation, you make your way to the bathroom, barely bothering to close the door behind you. Placing your clothes in the sink, you turn towards the shower, pushing the curtain aside to adjust the knobs and pull up the shower valve, spurring on the hot water. As the bathroom fills with steam, your breathing becomes slightly shallow, the heat causing your cheeks to flush.

Stepping back towards the sink, you gaze at the fogged-up mirror, your reflection blurred and distorted. Like a scene from a horror movie, you raise your hand and press it against the glass, wiping downwards and watching as the water droplets cascade lower, dripping on your discarded clothing below.

As your eyes meet your reflection once more, they immediately lose focus and fixate on the imposing figure standing just a few meters behind you. Towering over six feet tall, his muscular frame exudes a suffocating amount of dominance and power. A scream of terror and disbelief escapes your lips, and in a panic, you grab the hand soap from the sink and swiftly turn around, hurling it towards the intruder. The bottle soars through the air, crashing into the wall before landing on the tiled floor.

There was no one there; you were going crazy.

“Calm down. You need to sleep. It’s been a long day; your mind is playing tricks on you.”

You were just full of excuses, desperately trying to maintain your sanity. But surprisingly, those excuses provided a strange comfort, no matter how unbelievable they were. So, you decided to settle yourself down, shedding your work pants and kicking them aside. Your shirt and undergarments followed suit, as you let go of all inhibitions. In that moment, the fear that had consumed you was momentarily forgotten.

You gazed at your reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to wipe away any imperfections. Your eyes wandered down to your body, taking in the soft ridges of faint stretch marks on your breasts with your fingertips. As your palms venture lower, they lovingly caress your thighs, reveling in the velvety softness of your skin and the warmth that radiates from them.

With a shake of your head, you release a sigh of surrender, allowing your hands to fall gracelessly to your sides. You take a step closer to the inviting tub, parting the shower curtain to reveal the steamy water within. As you enter the embrace of the hot water, a soft moan of pleasure escapes your lips, the heat enveloping your entire being and melting away the tension in your muscles. This shower was exactly what you craved.

After diligently scrubbing your skin until it’s both raw (and irresistibly smooth), you find yourself sitting on the floor of the tub, relishing in the sensation of the water cascading over your hair and body. However, as much as you yearn to stay in the blissful sanctuary that is your tub until the water turns cold, you reluctantly acknowledge the losing battle against sleep that you’re already engaged in.

Carefully rising from the bathtub, you extend your hand under the cooling sprays of the water to twist the knobs and halt the shower, pushing the valve down afterward. Exiting the tub, you forgo the use of a towel and opt to let the air dry you while reaching for your toothpaste and toothbrush from their respective places. Relocating your clothes from the sink to the nearby shelf, you proceed to brush your teeth swiftly, counting to fifty before spitting and returning everything to its original position.

You grab your face wash and dispense a small amount onto your palm, with gentle strokes, you massage the cleanser into your skin, creating a lather that removes the remnants of yesterday morning’s messy makeup. Switching on the tap, you lean over the sink, allowing the warm water to flow into your hands, smoothly gliding it across your face and rinsing away the soap.

Your back divots suddenly with a delicate grace as an ethereal caress firmly grasps your sensetive hips, eliciting a startled gasp of surprise from your parted lips. Your eyes pop open, darting around in a hasty manner, well, stupidly, seeing as you hadn’t quite finished washing your face--- the remnants of soap trickling into your eyes. A sharp hiss escapes your mouth as you instinctively lower yourself to rinse away the discomfort.

Once more the tantalizing trail of fingers tracing along your spine is undeniably present. You remain still, your muscles tensing in anticipation, trembling as the touch ascends higher, encircling your neck. With trembling hands, you turn off the faucet and inhale deeply, attempting to steady your racing heart. The deep, seductive timbre of your name being whispered intimately close to your ear fills you with a bone-chilling terror. Quickly, you snatch your garments from the nearby shelf and flee into the sanctuary of your bedroom, momentarily struggling with the bathroom door.

“Calm down, calm down; this is not happening. You’re hallucinating.”

You erratically throw on your shirt, using it to also dry your face, and shimmy your panties up your legs, the soft cotton resting comfortably on your hips. You quickly crawl into bed and pull the comforter up to your chin, shutting your eyes and tucking your bottom lip into your mouth. (Your hair could wait, you were not getting out of bed.)

“Hey, Alexa, turn off: Bedroom Lights. ”

You can’t even recall switching on the overhead light, but honestly, you’re past the point of caring. The mechanical response plunges the room into darkness, and the moment your head hits the pillow (as comfortable as it can be when cold and damp), you’re fast asleep.

You’re unsure how long it’s been, but your eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep when you feel the sensation of large, calloused hands gliding up your stomach softly. The touch is unfamiliar, but it doesn’t necessarily frighten you as it should, instead, you can feel yourself throbbing in your panties, gentle and shy. You blame your sleep deprivation on the lack of fear.

The hands approach your bare breasts, a thumb rubbing over the taught peaks of your pebbled nipples causing a soft gasp to escape your luscious lips, your cheeks burning with fiery heat, and your body arching ever so slightly from the bed, offering your breasts to the awaiting, eager palms.

Your pussy, warm and slick, constricts and drools with your arousal. Maybe it’s the thrill of imagining a supernatural encounter, but you’ve never felt as aroused and eager as you do at this moment; dripping and throbbing.

You feel a surge of anticipation as your panties are gently shifted aside, a trail of your desire following suit. Ghostly fingers swiftly trail up your inner thigh, getting closer to your sopping pussy, and despite the uncertainty of the situation, the mysterious touch ignites a fire within you. The paranormality behind the sensation makes your heart pound and your pussy salivate with need. Lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, a soft caress on your clit causes your hips to involuntarily buck, your lip bruised from the force of your bite. “Ah~”

Your voice comes out as a breathy, needy whine. The suspense of where and when the next touch will land sends shivers of excitement down your spine. And as soon as you're almost on the verge of begging, a rush of hot air sweeps over your dripping core, causing your pussy to clench instinctively. Your throbbing clit pulsates with an insatiable ache, lost in a haze of pleasure, and your eyes roll back, unable to fully grasp the intensity of the experience.

As the sensation engulfs you, your throbbing bud is devoured by their hungry mouth. The combination of their saliva and your own intoxicating arousal trickles down, moistening your tight, quivering entrance. The sensation is nothing short of divine, as if their touch is delicately fondling and slurping at every nerve within your shuddering body.

Your hips, moving with a will of their own, rise from the bed and writhe. You can’t help but squeal softly as firm, powerful, and large hands encircle your hips, forcefully pressing you down onto the mattress, indulging in your warm, sticky juices; skillfully teasing your clit with its tongue. Your cries and pleas echo loudly, a stark contrast to your usual quiet demeanor when having sex with men.

Oh, but you felt like a bitch in heat, like your entire being was engulfed in flames and burning you from the inside out— it made you want to scream and cry.

Your body trembles uncontrollably as the knot tightens, gripping your stomach, thighs, and lower abdomen. In a desperate bid for relief from the agonizing pleasure, you instinctively gyrate your hips. Your vision blurs and fades into a blinding white haze, signaling your impending climax. But just as you teeter on the edge of release, the touches abruptly cease, leaving you yearning for more.

You whimper and attempt to reach down to your soaking pussy to pat and rub at your engorged clit, but you unintentionally freeze in place; a small knot of fear causes your eyes to well up, yet it only intensifies your craving for its caress. When nothing further occurs, you start to plead, like a desperate whore— as if you hadn’t been touched in years.

And as if pleased, the ghostly caresses return to your sensitive clit, moving with a deliberate slowness that sends shivers down your spine. You can’t help but let out a series of soft moans, as you offer up sweet words of gratitude to the mysterious entity pleasuring you.

“Ah, yes, yes, please!”

Your body tenses as the knot tightens, aching with a mix of pain and pleasure. Your hips move uncontrollably, seeking more of that sweet torment. Yet, it stops once more, leaving you to come down from your ruined high. You’re a sobbing mess now, grinding against the air, waiting for something, anything.

Your throat constricts suddenly, leaving you breathless as fingers delve into your tight, dripping pussy, curling and prodding your spongey g-spot. The digits seem to know your pussy like the back of their hand, stroking every nerve inside of you. The squelching sound of your arousal drowns out your heavy breathing and mewling moans. The entity suddenly adds its thumb to the mix, circling your clit quickly. The pleasure escalates swiftly, and your eyes squeeze shut as a rush of pure ecstasy overwhelms you, leaving your thighs quivering and twitching from the deep, blissful climax.

After the high subsides, you pant for air, the tension easing from your throat. You sprawl sensually on your bed, clit throbbing and arousal coating your sheets. A tepid, exhausted breath escapes your lips as a thickness delicately nudges apart the folds of your pulsating entrance, prompting an instinctual urge to flee. However, unyielding hands firmly pull you closer, and your legs reluctantly surrender to their command.

You can feel a bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip forcefully penetrating your quivering, weeping pussy eliciting a mixture of pleasure and pain at the invasion. Your pretty eyes roll quickly to the back of your head as the unknown entity plunges its heavy, thick cock into your tight entrance, your thighs pressed to your chest and legs draped over broad shoulders.

You keen softly, as your pliable walls ensnare his cock in a vice-like, velvety embrace. “More, I need more; please fuck me, please.” Your plea is abruptly silenced as its thick length withdraws from within you, only to resume with an intense, unconventional rhythm—leaving you no opportunity to adjust to its entire length.

The unyielding grip on your waist marks you in the most delicious way, leaving behind a trail of bruises that only heighten the pleasure coursing through you. Your pussy feels so full and sated, despite nothing physically filling you, you throb with satisfaction.

Lost in the depths of your pleasure, the reasons behind your desperate pleas elude you, but you continue to spill them forth without hesitation, unable to think. Once again, your breath is stolen away, your throat constricts, and an intense orgasm surges through you like a forceful tidal wave. A delicious warmth then radiates from your core, spreading through your tummy.

The most painful and pleasurable feeling of being filled with cum has you aching for a taste of it. Your body goes limp, but whatever is fucking you doesn’t stop; their cock pistols into you despite you slowly losing consciousness.

As your eyes flutter open, you gradually rise from the bed. The room is shrouded in darkness, leaving you disoriented about the time you’ve spent asleep. Urgently, you rush to the bathroom due to your full bladder. Stepping out of bed, a gasp escapes your lips as your foot lands on a cold, damp object. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s your panties. Blushing, you drop them and shake your head, with your hair still slightly wet from the previous night’s shower.

As you enter the bathroom, you opt for the wall light switch instead of the one on the ceiling, casting a gentle, warm radiance throughout the room. Oblivious to your reflection, you casually stroll past the mirror, too exhausted to spare a second glance.

As you ease yourself onto the toilet seat, your tired eyes gently close, and the tinkling sound of you using the bathroom lulls you into a state of sleep for a brief moment. A few moments pass, and you linger a bit longer before reaching for a flushable wet wipe, dutifully cleansing yourself before discarding it into the swirling abyss of the toilet bowl.

With a swift flush, you rise to your feet and shuffle to the sink to cleanse your hands. However, as you slowly open your drowsy eyes and catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, a sudden chill runs down your spine.

As you gingerly raise your shirt, a gasp escapes your lips. The sight before you is both shocking and unsettling. Crimson and violet bruises, resembling the imprint of a colossal hand, encircle your throat, cascading down to conceal your collarbone and shoulders. As your eyes wander further, a gasp escapes your lips. Vivid handprints, a testament to an intimate encounter, mark your hips in crimson and violet, while a constellation of hickies adorns your tummy.

As you gaze into the mirror, you suddenly catch sight of a man standing behind you, from earlier. Surprisingly, he seems closer than the last time you saw him, and you can feel the warmth of his body through your shirt. He stands tall, with bulging muscles and an overwhelming presence that leaves you breathless. However, his appearance remains a mystery, as you struggle to make out his features. Just then, the bathroom door slams shut, plunging the room into darkness as the lights flicker off. Your heart skips a beat as you feel hands slowly trail up your shirt, eventually cupping your pussy.

His voice is like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with its deep, sensual, sinful, and amused tones.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

[justaz]

kilgharrah warned merlin and told him that excalibur was only to be wielded by arthur. merlin used excalibur to kill morgana. arthur died on the shore of the lake.

[cat-cosplay]

What's your favorite head canon?

[skallitun]

some brain-rot obviously.

trying out Krita (drawing software) after losing my phone can you tell I'm a complete noob at it?

[blaire-apricity]

LADS Plushies

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ┆ : 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘓𝘈𝘋𝘚 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘔𝘊?

ᯓ❅ ┆ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ┆ : 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 & 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘖𝘖𝘊

─────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

The first thing Xavier does is gawk at it, blinking in surprise. He turns the plushie over with care, examining every detail of the creature that so closely resembles you.

He starts poking its cheek, imagining it's your own, a small playful smile tugging at his lips. His eyes light up, filled with tender amusement.

Passersby notice his expression—an uncharacteristically satisfied and innocent smile gracing his face—as he gazes at the plushie.

He looks like a child who has opened their Christmas present early, filled with pure contentment.

Xavier takes the plushie everywhere with him, unable to bear being apart from it.

Instinctively, he holds it close, his protective instincts kicking in as if the plushie were the real you.

He might even tuck it into his pocket as he scouts new places or hunts for Wanderers, a small but significant token of comfort.

The plushie reminds him so much of you, making him feel as if you were with him at all times.

The best part is how soft and fluffy the plushie is, like a miniature pillow. He often rests his head on it, finding comfort in the softness.

As he lies down, he imagines it is your lap beneath him, a peaceful and soothing thought.

He definitely brags about it to Jeremiah.

"Look, it's Y/n," he says, with the plushie perched proudly on his head.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Normally, Zayne doesn't care for plushies, nor does he like to keep one.

Unless, of course, it is from you. Or, more specifically, if it is you in a miniature fluff form.

With his usual aloof and cold demeanor, he examines the plushie, gripping it with one hand, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Unlike Xavier, he doesn't carry it with him everywhere.

But the plushie always has a place in his office, a silent but constant presence.

Sitting alone at his desk, Zayne sighs, massaging his temples as he finishes surgery after surgery, glancing at the plushie of you seated on his table.

'Well, it’s like having her in pocket-size. Cute,' he thinks to himself, a rare softness in his words.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

Rafayel immediately takes several photos of the plushie, capturing its likeness from every angle.

Feeling inspired by this miniature work of art, he might sketch or paint it, blending his artistic talents with his affection.

He proudly shows it off, exclaiming, "It's Miss Bodyguard in plushie form!"

As he works on his latest masterpiece, he places the plushie somewhere prominent, ensuring it is always in his line of sight.

Talking to it as if it were the real you, he shares his thoughts and ideas, finding comfort in the imagined conversations.

He doesn't feel odd about this; heck, he’s quite proud of his little confidant.

Thomas might overhear him and think, "Maybe it's a normal artist thing," shrugging off Rafayel's eccentricities.

He definitely calls you, plushie in hand, the excitement evident in his voice. "Y'know, I'd rather have the real thing, but this is a close second."

·❆　　　❆　❅　　　　•　　　　.　　　　　❆❆• 　·　.　　　❅

ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ: ᴋɪᴍɪ ɴɪ ᴀɪsᴀʀᴇᴛᴇ ɪᴛᴀᴋᴀᴛᴛᴀ

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑁𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐶𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑏𝑖𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑. 𝐻𝐴𝐻𝐴, 𝐼 𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑧𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑂𝑂𝐶 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑅𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑙, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒.

[thatonefananticinclass]

So if you think that vox likes alastor but alastor dosn't like him back how do you think vox would react to alastor flirting with him?

Vox would probably be flabbergasted for a second, but then immediately try to regain his composure. Try to be smooth about it even though he's panicking on the inside, wondering why Alastor is doing this. Most likely he'd assume it's Alastor trying to mess with him(which he probably is) but he would still sweat a little under his collar. Alastor has easily played and provoked Vox to the point of causing a black out, so I think if Alastor flirted with Vox hard enough he'd lose it abs cause a couple blackouts around him. I don't think Alastor would go TOO flirty with it, at least physically. Leaving Vox once again irritated and obsessed. ....And unsatisfied 🤭 lol