#( HC )

[love-death-and-desert]

from 18th aug. 2022 never posted this here for some reason

[justaz]

Do you know how many times Lancelot has sat through a stupid fucking Round Table meeting where the King is fuming about some transgression to the Crown or to Camelot? Some hidden villain that needs to be brought to justice? Some antagonistic revolutionist who stole something from Arthur or broke into some top secret part of the castle that only the King and maybe his First Knight are allowed? Where King Arthur stands with righteous fury, slams his hands on the table and announces that justice shall be served and retribution will follow with no mercy…only for Merlin to stroll in late with an easy smile, completely disregarding the King’s mood and asking what they’re talking about only to confess with a little laugh that it was him? Committing either small bouts of arson or thievery or breaking and entering all the way up to high treason only for King Arthur to take in Merlin’s cute smile and bright eyes and immediately soften before shrugging and saying that theres nothing to do about it now and they should move on? Showing entirely too much mercy and not enough punishment? Do you? Hm? Do you?

Leon says they’re up to thirty-eight this year. It’s only February.

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Roy's a flirt. He flirts with everyone, it’s just how he is. It’s never serious, never deep. But for Jason, it’s frustrating as hell, because he’s got a fucking crush on the guy. And the guy flirts with everyone... except him. Which is annoying enough on its own, but what really gets under Jason’s skin ? Roy flirts with Dick. It’s all playful, just part of their long-standing friendship, nothing to read into. But that doesn’t stop Jason from hating every second of it.

(I'm thinking of writing a fic)

[get-arcaned]

Can I just say how nice it is that this post has that many replies? Also, op I agree, nuanced, but I agree.

i'm going to say a very controversial headcanon. i don't think viktor would take jayce's last name

[goldenroseeon]

You get no context for this.

...maybe you do?

[shadamyheadcanons]

Headcanon #310

The first three times Shadow brought Amy out for dates, he was frustrated to find she’d visited them already, either with friends or with Sonic back when they’d dated. She insisted that it was different with him and she had a great time, but Shadow decided that wasn’t enough.

Knowing how much Amy loved adventure, he searched all around the world for new options, teleporting to cover more ground and making use of any spare time he had on missions, until he compiled what he simply called “The List.” From then on, whenever Amy wanted to go somewhere new, he surprised her with a unique location with a beautiful view: an alcove overlooking Sunset City with a wall of trees blocking the wind behind them; a wide, sturdy branch on the tallest tree in the Mystic Ruins where she introduced Shadow to a family of Flickies she knew; an underground grotto surrounded by gemstone-encrusted walls when she needed some solace; and a castle roof flat and sturdy enough for a scenic picnic in Kingdom Valley.

Amy adored each new location. Although she’d been to a lot of the places in general, Shadow was always able to find a new spot where she’d never stepped foot. When she asked what his secret was, he winked and admitted that his guiding principle was finding places she couldn’t get to without Chaos Control.

[volturissideslut]

hiii! can I pls request aro and his mate who has a hand kink? like it doesn’t matter where they are, of what they’e doing, she’ll be sat in his lap playing with his hands, and tracing the veins. like actually his hands r so fine, search it up on Pinterest and you will understand my point.

𝕬𝖗𝖔 𝖁𝖔𝖑��𝖚𝖗𝖎

(Nsfw below the cut) I don't need to go on pinterest to know what you're talking about darling, i'm right there with you 😭🫶

Imagine sitting on Aro's lap, it could be in the throne room or anywhere else in the world. Long pale fingers grip onto your thigh like a voce, keeping you grounded on top of him. Your own hand would be on top of his, tracing along the shapes. The bump of his knuckle, a scar on the side, a vein bulging from his wrist to his index finger. His hand is mapped in your mind, you could know it blindfolded, the feel of the tip of his finger faint against your lips while you wait for him.

Imagine being sat next to him, bored and tracing your hands over his. His hand is mapped in your mind, you could know it blindfolded. The feel of the tip of his fingers against your lips from how ofter you kiss at them, the indent in his middle finger from centuries of quills and pens. Flipping his hand over to follow all the lines on his palm. He might even get you one of them palm reading books so he has an excuse to sit there and feel you for longer.

Imagine laying in bed together with Aro spooning you, his arm is thrown over your waist and his hand flat against your lower belly. Butterflies erupt within you, the way you feel his hand stroke at you or how his fingers draw little shapes. He'll trace 'i love you' in old greek and make you guess what he's writing, knowing fully well that you don't know that language yet. His hand would reach up, scratching at your scalp a massaging into your head. He keeps you in pure bliss.

Imagine his fingers shoved down your throat, pushing down on your tongue. He's all consuming when you're in bed together, all you can feel is him, him, and him some more. He loves being above you, making eye contact as you suck on his fingers. You'll gag around him, oh so full, and it just makes him all the more turned on.

Imagine the way his fingers curl inside of you, his thumb circling over the little nub of your clit. His hands are amazing, magical really, the searing pleasure he brings you with those dexterous fingers of his. They may not be thick, but they sure as hell are long, and you can feel every part of them inside of you. Maybe it's the fantasy - your love for them making the white hot feeling coiling in you all the more apparent - or maybe he really is that good. Either way, Aro's fingers are really fascinating to you

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲.

Y/N Weasley may be a devoted mother, but before all the little Weasleys took over your world, you were Bill’s wife first.

And no matter how chaotic the home becomes, no matter how many little hands tug at you for attention, you never let Bill forget how much you loves him.

You had a thousand little ways of showing it—each one making Bill fall for you all over again.

1. Your Soft, Knowing Touch.

•No matter where they are, you always find a way to touch him.

•A hand on his arm when you two talk.

•Fingers tracing over his scars absentmindedly.

•Running a hand through his hair when he lays his head in your lap.

•Bill could be talking about work, reading a book, or even just sitting quietly, and you’ll lean in and rest your forehead against his—just because.

•Whenever he’s stressed or lost in thought, you cup his face in your hands and whispers, “Still with me, love?”

•It always brings him back to you.

2. The Way you Look at Him Like He’s the Only Man in the World.

•Bill catches you staring at him all the time, and when he asks why, you just smirk and say, “Just admiring my handsome husband.”

•You love watching him with their children—when he’s carrying Felix on his shoulders or dancing with Lila around the kitchen, you just stop and soak it all in.

•Sometimes, you’ll just lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, whispering, “I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

3. How You Melt for His Scars (And Makes Him Love Them Too).

•At first, Bill was insecure about them, but You? You loved them from the start.

•You trace them with your fingers, kisses them softly, and tells him, “They don’t define you, but I love every part of you.”

•When he jokes about looking too wolfish, you just grin and pulls him close—

•“I don’t know, Weasley. I find your wolfish tendencies very attractive.”

•Whenever he’s shirtless, you run your fingers over his scars like you're memorizing them.

•If he ever doubts himself, you grab his chin, makes him look at you, and reminds him, “You’re still the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

4. Your Teasing and Flirty Nature.

•You may be a sweetheart, but you're also a menace when you want to be.

•You whispers flirtatious comments in his ear at the worst times, just to see him flustered.

•“If you keep looking at me like that, love, we’re going to be late for dinner.”

•If he’s working too much, you steal his quill and sit in his lap until he gives you attention.

•You wiggle your eyebrows at him when the kids aren’t looking.

•If Bill ever gets too cocky, you lean in close and whispers,

•"You talk big, Weasley. Care to prove it?”

•And he always does.

5. The Way You Always Find Your Way Into His Arms.

•Bill’s favorite thing? When You seek him out just to hold him.

•If you two are in a crowded room, you always find him and leans against him.

•When you're lying in bed, you pulls yourself against his chest, fingers absently tracing over his skin.

•If he’s sitting? You sit between his legs, rests your back against his chest, and sighs like it’s the safest place in the world.

•If Bill has a long day, you just wraps yourself around him like a blanket and whispers, “You don’t have to be strong all the time, love.”

6. The Late-Night Kisses and Pillow Talk.

•No matter what happens during the day, you never let him sleep without reminding him you love him.

•You trail your fingers over his chest, talking softly in the dark about everything and nothing.

•Kisses his scars, his cheek, his nose, and finally his lips.

•“Sleep well, love. You’re everything to me.”

•If you wake up before him? You just lay there, tracing your fingers through his hair, smiling.

7. Your Fierce Defensiveness Over Him.

•No one—NO ONE—says a bad word about your husband and gets away with it.

•If someone insults him, your sweet demeanor disappears instantly.

•“Excuse me? That’s my husband you’re talking about, and I’d suggest you think twice before you continue.”

•Bill secretly loves it, watching you go full protective lioness mode.

•When a woman once made a passing comment about the scars, you firmly but politely corrected her.

•“They don’t make him any less of the man he’s always been. If anything, they make him even stronger.”

•Bill never forgets that moment.

8. The Way You Support Him in Everything.

•If Bill doubts himself, you won’t hear it.

•“You are the strongest, smartest, most wonderful man I know. And if you don’t see that, I’ll remind you every day until you do.”

•If he’s nervous about a mission, you press a lingering kiss to his lips and whispers,

•“Come home to me, Weasley.”

•If he gets frustrated, you ground him with a simple touch.

9. How You Give Him Your Whole Heart.

•Bill has never once doubted that you adore him.

•When he walks into the room, you light up every single time—even after all these years.

•If he’s talking, you listen like he’s the most fascinating person in the world.

•When he tells stories, you watche him, memorizing every expression.

•If you're in a crowded room, he knows you're thinking of him when you give him that smile—the one that says “You’re still my favorite person here.”

10. The Words You Whispers That Make Him Weak.

•“You’re everything to me, Bill Weasley.”

•“You gave me this beautiful life, and I’ll spend forever loving you for it.”

•“There will never be anyone else. Only you, always.”

•“I love you more today than yesterday. And tomorrow? I’ll love you even more.”

You are the Woman Who Loves Bill Weasley Best

You never let Bill forget how much he means to you—with your touch, your words, and the way you chose him every single day.

And Bill?

He falls a little more in love with you every single time.

[reelbigsquidge]

on the first full week of february, it was national school counselor week ! and yk i had to do something for it…so here’s kenny and kyle sending mr mackey a nice little letter !!

speedpaint up on youtube :)

[cobra-creampuff]

"I hate your guts."

"Aw. Be good and I'll let you rearrange them."

[ornithy]

W/ glasses:

My inner artist has taken over, help. my art 1% of the time:

[baekhyunsbestie]

girl hear me out ‼️

how the exos react when they see you… play w yourself? 🫠🥵

exo x f!reader ; ty for this spicy req nonnie babie <3333333

content: 18+/mdni 5.1k+ words. explicit language. established relationships. voyeurism. mild humiliation kink. power dynamics. dirty talk. pet names. light degradation. teasing. filthy praise. mutual masturbation (sehun omGGGG). overstimulation. sensory play. edging.

⟢ jongin

the door creaks open.

“hey baby, i’m home—”

he stops.

the sound of his voice shatters the silence, and your entire body locks up.

fuck.

your breath catches, the pleasure that had been coiling in your belly instantly snapping into something else—shock, panic, raw, pulsing heat.

your fingers freeze in place. your body tenses.

your heart is pounding, slamming against your ribs, so loud you swear he can hear it.

you were so close. so lost in it, wrapped in the slow, building pleasure, drowning in it—so deep that you hadn’t even heard him come in.

but now?

now, he’s here.

watching.

jongin stands in the doorway, one hand clenched around the doorknob, the other still gripping his phone, his entire body frozen mid-step—stuck between hesitation and realization.

his expression is unreadable, his dark eyes dragging over you in a slow, deliberate sweep, taking in everything.

the way your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths.

the sheen of heat still clinging to your skin.

the trembling in your thighs that betrays just how deep into it you were.

his silence is suffocating, thick with an unspoken tension that coils tighter with every second he just stands there.

your breath catches.

heat rushes up your neck, shame wrapping around your ribs like a vice, crashing over you in heavy, suffocating waves.

your body reacts on instinct.

move. hide. disappear.

but the moment your fingers twitch toward the sheets—before you can even think about yanking them over yourself—

he moves first.

his lips curl.

slow. knowing. lethal.

the kind of smirk that doesn’t just see through you—it sees into you.

shit.

“you expect me to just stand here and watch?”

his voice is low—thick, weighted, dripping with something dark and hungry.

the air shifts, suddenly too hot, too heavy, too thick, wrapping around you like a second skin, making your breath stutter in your throat.

your entire body burns.

his name barely makes it past your lips, voice weak, trembling, unsure.

“i—”

you don’t even know what you’re trying to say. an excuse? an apology? a plea?

but it doesn’t matter.

because he moves.

slow. deliberate. calculated.

the soft click of the door shutting behind him feels final. like a lock turning. like a decision already made.

his head tilts slightly, dark eyes tracing over every inch of you, his gaze heavy, consuming, like he’s already imagining how you’ll come undone beneath him.

like he’s deciding where to start.

his fingers drop to the buckle of his belt, toying with it, his smirk never wavering. never softening.

“nah, baby,” he murmurs, taking another step forward, his voice a slow, lazy drawl—amused. teasing. dangerous.

“you don’t get to act shy now.”

his knee presses against the edge of the bed, sinking slightly into the mattress as he looms over you.

he’s too close. too much.

his presence fills the space, thick and all-consuming, until it’s the only thing you can feel, the only thing you can breathe.

you don’t move. can’t move.

his lips hover just above your ear, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin—hot, teasing, intoxicating.

“since you already got started without me…”

his voice is low, a slow, deliberate drawl, dripping with mocking amusement.

his fingers lift, tracing the curve of your jaw, soft, teasing, possessive, tilting your face up until you’re forced to look at him.

nowhere to hide.

no escape.

only him.

his smirk deepens, dark eyes flickering downward—straight to where your hand still lingers between your thighs.

you should pull away. you should close your legs, turn away, do something.

but your body betrays you.

your fingers twitch, hesitating.

your thighs tremble, still aching for more.

his smirk widens.

“i think it’s only fair,” he murmurs, his voice smooth, smug, dangerous, “that i help you finish.”

his fingers slide in, replacing yours.

hotter. crueler. devastatingly better.

your breath catches—sharp, broken.

his control is maddening. he doesn’t rush, doesn’t give in to urgency.

instead, he takes his time.

dragging it out. making you beg. making you his.

⟢ chanyeol

the moment he steps into the room, he freezes.

his hand tightens around the doorknob, knuckles going white as his gaze locks onto the sight in front of him—you.

sprawled out on the bed, legs parted, fingers buried deep between your thighs. your body writhing, breathy little whimpers spilling from your lips, eyes squeezed shut as you chase your high.

fuck.

for a second, he just stands there, blinking, like his brain is short-circuiting.

like he’s struggling to process the fact that his girl is lying there, touching herself, completely lost in pleasure—without him.

and that?

yeah, that’s not gonna fly.

“you really couldn't wait for me, huh?”

his voice comes out lower than he expected, gravelly, dripping with something dangerous.

your entire body jolts, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your head snaps up.

“ch-chanyeol? i-i didn’t hear you come in—”

his eyes drag over you, slow, deliberate, drinking in every ruined inch of you.

your thighs still twitching. 

your chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. 

your fingers, still coated in your own slick.

fucking hell.

you already look wrecked, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“please, continue.”

he steps closer, slowly, deliberately, savoring the way you shudder under his gaze.

like a predator closing in on his prey.

“since you were so eager to do it without me…”

he smirks, tilting his head, watching the way your fingers hesitate between your thighs.

“finish what you started.”

your breath catches.

“i—”

his tongue flicks out, swiping over his bottom lip as he watches you struggle.

teasing. taunting. testing you.

“what?” his voice is deep, laced with amusement.

“you were just so into it a second ago.”

his gaze is relentless, unyielding, burning straight through you.

“don’t get all shy now.”

your entire body flushes, heat spreading across your skin like a wildfire.

but the way he’s watching you—waiting—daring you to keep going...

it’s too much.

your fingers tremble, but you do it.

hesitant, slow, just a little embarrassed, but when you touch yourself again—

he groans.

low and deep in his throat.

like watching you is physically affecting him.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

he doesn’t even hesitate.

his hands move to the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion, tossing it aside carelessly.

your breath catches as your eyes trail over him—broad shoulders, toned chest, the deep ridges of his abs, the sharp dip of his v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

his fingers work quickly, unbuckling his belt, unzipping his pants, freeing himself.

“goddamn,” he mutters, palming himself, already so achingly hard.

“you're gonna make me lose my fucking mind.”

before you can react, he’s climbing onto the bed, hovering over you, his body radiating heat.

his eyes burn with something wild. something primal.

he watches your fingers move against yourself, his lips parting slightly, his breathing heavier.

and then—his hand wraps around your wrist.

firm. possessive. grounding.

“lemme help, baby,” he murmurs, brushing your hand away to take over.

his fingers replace yours, slipping between your folds, teasing, exploring.

“since you clearly need me so bad.”

you’re completely at his mercy now.

⟢ sehun

he was just coming to grab his phone charger.

but when he steps inside and sees you, everything stills.

his breath. his movements. his entire body.

holy shit.

the lazy, indifferent air that usually surrounds him is gone. in its place, something sharper. darker. hungrier.

his expression shifts, amusement flickering in his eyes as they darken, dragging over your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths.

the way your thighs tremble, still parted, still aching.

caught. helpless. ruined.

“tsk.”

the sound clicks from his tongue, disappointed. teasing. entertained.

you barely have time to react before he’s moving closer.

your pulse jumps. panic and heat war inside you as you scramble to yank the sheets over yourself, but before you can, his fingers wrap firmly around your wrist.

stopping you. grounding you. owning you.

“don’t.”

his voice is low. steady. final.

your breath catches, heart pounding in your chest.

his grip is warm, firm, inescapable.

he tilts your chin up with his other hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

your stomach flips at what you see there—control. amusement. something more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

his thumb brushes your bottom lip, voice silk and steel as he murmurs:

“keep going.”

your pulse stutters.

“w-what?” your voice barely makes it out.

his smirk deepens. slow. devastating.

“i said, keep going,” he repeats, his grip on your wrist tightening just slightly—a warning, a command.

“i wanna see how desperate you are before i touch you.”

your entire body burns.

heat curls in your stomach as you lower your trembling hand back between your thighs, your fingers brushing against the soft pink silicone of your favorite toy.

sehun sees it, and his smirk twists into something even darker.

“that one, huh?” he muses, stepping back just slightly, his arms crossing as he settles in to watch.

“figured you'd use that pretty pink one when i'm not around.”

your breath shudders.

his words shouldn’t make you hotter, wetter, needier. but they do.

with shaky hands, you press the toy back against yourself, the first buzz sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you.

your legs twitch, and sehun chuckles, tilting his head.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “just like that. don’t be shy, baby, let me hear you.”

your lips part as a soft moan slips free, hips rolling against the vibrations.

“fuck,” he exhales, eyes glued to you.

but then—he moves.

his hands drop to the waistband of his sweats, loosening them.

your breath stutters as he shoves them down just enough, his boxers slipping along with them, freeing his already aching length.

your stomach tightens.

he wraps a hand around himself, slow, lazy strokes, matching your pace.

his jaw tightens, a quiet groan slipping past his lips.

“shit, baby,” he mutters, voice deeper now, rougher. “you really were desperate, huh?”

your fingers tighten around the toy, the pleasure building, coiling tighter, hotter, deeper.

sehun notices.

his strokes speed up, his breathing heavier, his free hand moving to grip your thigh.

"you’re close," he murmurs, watching the way your body tenses, trembles.

his thumb brushes over your knee, almost gentle, almost cruel.

“let me hear you, baby. tell me how good it feels.”

“so—so good,” you gasp, legs trembling.

his smirk deepens, his strokes getting sloppier.

“that’s it,” he groans, eyes flickering between where the toy is pressed against you and the way your lips part with every moan.

“cum for me, baby,” he whispers, voice dripping with control, command, absolute possession.

“cum while i watch you fall apart.”

and you do.

the pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, your thighs quaking as the orgasm rips through you.

sehun groans, watching every second, every shudder, every moan.

his grip tightens, his pace stutters, and then—

“ah—fuck,” he growls, breath hitching, head tipping back as he follows you over the edge.

your body twitches, your breathing ragged, still caught in the aftermath of pleasure.

sehun licks his lips, eyes still locked on you.

his thumb swipes lazily over your sensitive, overstimulated skin, his smirk returning.

“next time?” he exhales, leaning down, his lips brushing your ear.

“that toy’s staying in the drawer.”

⟢ kyungsoo

the room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of your laptop screen. the air is thick, heavy with something intimate, something forbidden—something that shouldn’t have been interrupted.

but it is.

the door clicks open, and you freeze.

your fingers instantly still, your breath catching in your throat.

kyungsoo stands at the threshold, silent, unmoving, unreadable. his dark eyes flick to the screen first, and that’s when you see it—recognition. his jaw tightens, his lips part slightly, and his gaze shifts to you.

you’re sprawled out, legs trembling, still holding the toy between your thighs.

still playing the video.

his voice. his hands. his body.

the kyungsoo on the screen is behind you, voice thick with pleasure as he murmurs filthy things into your ear, his hands gripping your waist. it’s one of the videos from your hidden folder—the one you made in that hotel room, the one where you begged for him over and over until your voice was raw.

and now, kyungsoo—the real kyungsoo—is watching you watch him.

his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, slow and deliberate.

“you couldn’t wait for me?”

his voice is low, deceptively calm, but there’s a dangerous edge to it.

your face burns as you scramble to shut the laptop, but his voice stops you.

“don’t.”

it’s not a request.

your body tenses, eyes flickering up to meet his. he’s still by the door, arms crossed, but there’s a shift—something dark, something possessive coiling beneath his controlled exterior.

“start it over.”

your stomach flips. “w-what?”

his gaze doesn’t waver. “i said, start it over.”

your fingers tremble as you drag the cursor back to the beginning of the video.

the screen flickers, and suddenly, it’s you again. your moans, your hands grasping at his back, the wet sounds of skin against skin.

kyungsoo watches, completely still, his breathing deep and controlled. then, his eyes lower—to you.

“keep going.”

your breath stutters. “kyungsoo, i—”

his head tilts slightly, dark eyes narrowing.

“you started without me. now finish.”

a shiver racks your spine.

you hesitate for only a second, but the way he’s looking at you—like he’s waiting, like he’s testing you, like he wants to see how far you’ll go—has you reaching for the toy again.

your fingers tremble as you press it back against yourself.

the first vibration makes you gasp, thighs twitching, and kyungsoo notices everything. the flicker in your expression. the way your body responds. the way you try to contain your sounds as the video plays in the background.

his eyes stay locked onto you, but his fingers twitch at his sides.

“you do this a lot?” his voice is smooth, but there’s something dangerous beneath it.

You shake your head, breathless. “n-no.”

“liar.”

your stomach clenches.

on the screen, his voice cuts through the room—a deep groan, a curse, the sound of him thrusting deeper.

your entire body trembles.

kyungsoo’s eyes darken. he’s watching everything.

“faster.”

your breath hitches. “kyungsoo—”

his jaw clenches, and he steps closer.

“you wanna cum, don’t you?” his voice is softer now, but no less commanding.

your fingers twitch, and he notices.

“you were close before i got here,” he murmurs. “weren’t you, sweets?”

you nod, barely holding yourself together.

“then don’t stop now.”

your entire body tightens, your thighs trembling as you obey. the toy moves faster, the pleasure building, mounting, suffocating—and he watches every second of it.

kyungsoo doesn’t touch you.

doesn’t need to.

his presence alone—his dark, knowing eyes, the deep timbre of his voice, the weight of his control—is enough to unravel you.

the pleasure builds and builds, coiling tight in your core, a burning, aching need that pushes you closer, closer—until finally, it snaps.

your body jerks, back arching, thighs quivering as the orgasm rips through you. a choked moan spills from your lips, and you barely manage to catch your breath before—

kyungsoo moves.

finally.

his hand grips your chin, firm but controlled, tilting your face up until your dazed, wrecked eyes meet his.

and fuck, his gaze.

dark. heavy. intense.

like he’s memorizing the way you come undone for him. like he’s already planning the next time.

“that’s my good girl,” he murmurs, voice low, deep, possessive.

before you can catch your breath, his tongue swipes up your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, tasting the shaky, desperate whimper that slips from your throat.

your pulse jumps, heat surging through your already sensitive body.

when he pulls back, his eyes flick down—not at your trembling thighs, not at the way your chest still rises and falls in sharp gasps.

but lower.

to the tent in his grey boxers, where a dark spot of precum stains the fabric.

he exhales slowly, jaw tight, muscles flexing as he peels off his white tee, tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

your breath catches.

the soft glow of your laptop screen casts shadows over the lines of his body, highlighting every ridge, every muscle, every sharp dip of his toned stomach.

but your eyes keep drifting lower.

the way his sweats hang low on his hips, how the thick outline of him strains against the fabric of his boxers.

how much he’s already aching for you.

kyungsoo watches you, watches your gaze dip lower, watches the way your thighs instinctively press together despite the way your body is still trembling.

a slow, satisfied smirk curves at the corner of his lips.

“you really think we’re done?” his voice is smooth, calm—too calm.

your breath stutters.

his fingers hook into the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down in one slow, fluid motion, his boxers following right after.

and when he steps forward, pressing hot, solid, burning skin against your still-sensitive body, his hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your lip.

“you made a mess of yourself for me,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his mouth hovering just over yours.

“now let me return the favor.”

⟢ junmyeon

he blinks.

once.

twice.

his lips part, but no words come out at first.

then, after a slow exhale—

“oh.”

your stomach plummets.

your entire body burns with humiliation as you scramble, yanking the sheets up to cover yourself, as if that could somehow erase what he just saw.

as if that could make it go away.

your heart is pounding, a frantic, erratic rhythm that drowns out everything else.

“i—i can explain—”

suho exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, his jaw tight. tense.

“explain what?”

his voice is calm. too calm. dangerously calm.

but his eyes?

his eyes tell a different story.

dark. sharp. heated. hungry.

his gaze drops, flickering down to where you’re still clutching the sheets, hiding what he already saw.

what he already knows.

“explain how you’re touching yourself thinking about me?”

oh fuck.

your breath stutters, your grip tightening around the fabric, but before you can even think of an answer, he moves.

he steps closer, his presence heavy, intoxicating, overwhelming.

you don’t move. can’t move.

his fingers brush against your wrist, the touch so light, so teasing, so effortless—but it sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through your already trembling body.

your thighs press together, a futile attempt to calm the ache between them, but his eyes catch the movement.

he sees everything.

his lips curve into a small, knowing smirk.

“baby,” he murmurs, voice smooth, dipping into something lower, deeper, more dangerous.

“you don’t have to do that yourself, ya know?”

his thumb traces lazy circles over your pulse, feeling how frantic, how desperate it is beneath his touch.

his voice dips, softer, teasing.

“that’s my job.”

before you can process what’s happening, his hand moves.

the sheets are torn away, discarded, leaving you exposed beneath him.

his fingers trail down, over your stomach, lower, lower—until they brush against your still-sensitive core.

you shudder. gasp.

“so wet,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

his fingers slip between your folds, slow, deliberate strokes, just barely touching you, teasing.

“you got this worked up all by yourself?”

you whimper, hips instinctively rolling into his touch, desperate for more.

“answer me, baby.”

your breath is uneven, every nerve in your body on fire.

“y-yes,” you gasp.

suho exhales sharply, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips, but his fingers don’t stop.

if anything, they slow down.

“bet you were picturing my hands instead of yours.”

his fingers finally press in deeper, curling, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you.

your head tips back, a broken moan falling from your lips.

“oh?” his smirk deepens, his tone dipping into something more satisfied. pleased. knowing.

“that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

your thighs tremble as the pleasure climbs, builds, intensifies, your body completely at his mercy.

“jun—”

his thumb brushes over your clit, and your words cut off into a whimper.

“shhh,” he soothes, his other hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

forcing you to look at him.

his forehead nearly brushes against yours, his breath warm against your lips as his fingers work you faster, deeper.

“look at me when you cum, baby,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something silky, sinful, commanding.

“wanna see exactly what i do to you.”

and when your orgasm finally crashes over you, when your body tenses and trembles beneath his touch, when your moan breaks apart in his name, he watches it all.

memorizes it. savors it. owns it.

his fingers slow, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure before he finally pulls away.

you’re still shaking, your breath still ragged, but his touch remains—his fingers tracing soft, lazy circles over your overstimulated skin.

his lips brush against your ear, his voice a satisfied hum.

“next time?”

his tongue flicks against your earlobe, teasing.

“just wait for me, baby.”

⟢ baekhyun

baekhyun swears he feels something in him fracture—a jagged, searing break that splinters straight through his chest the moment he steps into the bedroom.

and sees you.

spread out on the bed, bathed in the low, hazy glow of the bedside lamp, your head tipped back against the pillows, lips parted around soft, breathy moans that make his cock throb in his jeans. but it isn’t for him. not for his fingers, his mouth, his cock.

no, it’s for that.

the tiny, pulsing toy nestled between your trembling thighs, the rhythmic buzz of it filling the room, echoing alongside the quiet whimpers slipping from your lips. your fingers grip it like a lifeline, knuckles whitening as your hips roll, chasing something he should be the one giving you.

a muscle in his jaw ticks. something dark coils inside him, a mix of possessiveness and simmering irritation.

he doesn’t hesitate.

“well, well, well. what do we have here?”

his voice is smooth as silk, deep and rich, yet dripping with something venomous—jealousy wrapped in velvet.

your eyes snap open, a sharp gasp catching in your throat. your grip falters, but the vibrator keeps going, relentless against your swollen, sensitive flesh. baekhyun watches with narrowed eyes, drinking in the way your thighs tremble, the way your breath stutters in your chest as his presence fully registers.

“b-baekhyun—”

he doesn’t let you finish. doesn’t let you explain. instead, he moves. a slow, deliberate stride toward you, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. his fingers wrap around the toy—your precious little lifeline—and pluck it from your grasp without effort. your lips part in protest, eyes wide, a petulant whine slipping past them as he studies the thing between his fingers like it personally offended him.

and then—he tosses it aside.

like it’s nothing.

like it never mattered.

“h-hey!” your voice is high-pitched, laced with frustration. “i wasn’t—i wasn’t finished yet!”

baekhyun clicks his tongue, the sound thick with condescension. he doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. if anything, he looks amused.

“oh, i know you weren’t, sweetheart.” he smirks, watching as your thighs press together instinctively, your body still wound tight from the high that was just within reach. “but, baby, were you really about to cum without me? without my fingers stretching you open first? without my tongue teasing you, getting you all soft and wet for me?”

you glare at him, heat flushing up your chest, but it’s impossible to ignore the way your breath shudders at his words, how the ache between your legs only intensifies under his scrutiny.

“i have something much better for you,” he purrs as he crawls onto the bed, settling between your legs with unbearable ease. his warmth sinks into you, hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open beneath him. his lips ghost over your inner thigh—soft, teasing kisses that leave a scorching path in their wake. his fingers dig in, kneading, possessive.

he glances up at you, amusement flickering in the darkness of his gaze. “so, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine, “what’s it gonna be? hmm?”

his voice is thick, dripping with promise.

“my tongue?” a teasing lick just there makes your breath hitch.

“my fingers?” his hand trails upward, fingertips barely grazing over your slick heat before pulling away.

“or do you want my cock instead?” the last words are spoken like a temptation, a promise, a guarantee of ruin.

the choice is yours, but it’s not really a choice at all—because once he’s done, once he’s wrung every last cry and moan from your lips, once he’s torn you apart and put you back together with nothing but his mouth, his hands, and his unyielding determination to remind you exactly who you belong to—

those toys?

they’ll be nothing more than a distant memory.

⟢ minseok

his smirk.

that’s the first thing you see.

slow. knowing. dripping with amusement.

he leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, exuding the kind of effortless dominance that makes your stomach tighten. his gaze pins you in place, dragging over your body—your parted lips, the way your thighs are still twitching, the way your chest rises and falls as you struggle to catch your breath.

he caught you. completely. utterly. helplessly.

“that desperate, baby?”

his voice is low, filthy, teasing in a way that makes your skin burn.

your breath catches, your stomach drops, and panic flares through you as you scramble to yank the sheets over yourself.

but he’s faster.

before you can so much as blink, he’s on you.

strong hands. firm grip. unshakable control.

his fingers wrap around your wrists, yanking them away, pinning them down against the mattress with ease.

“mm, no,” he hums, voice dripping with amusement.

his grip tightens, just enough to make your pulse jump.

“that’s not how you do it, baby.”

he pushes you down, his weight settling between your legs, the heat of his body pressing into yours. he’s so close. too close. but not close enough.

his breath brushes over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“if you’re gonna touch yourself thinking about me…”

his knee nudges between your thighs, spreading them wider.

his lips graze over your jaw, not quite kissing, just teasing.

“...at least do it right.”

your breathing is ragged, chest heaving as his hands wander.

one hand trailing down your stomach.

the other pinning you still, making sure you don’t move.

his fingers ghost over your skin, featherlight, tantalizing.

“let me teach you,” he whispers, his smirk pressing against your throat.

“let me show you how good it feels when you do it my way.”

his fingers slide lower.

his grip tightens.

his voice drops to something almost dangerous.

“and this time…”

his tongue flicks over the pulse at your neck, teasing, hot, deliberate.

“you don’t get to finish until i say so.”

⟢ yixing

your breath comes in shaky gasps, your body thrumming, heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

you’re so close.

your fingers work quickly, desperately, rubbing slick, frantic circles against your swollen clit, your legs trembling as the pleasure builds—higher, hotter, almost too much.

just a little more—just a little more.

and then—

the door opens.

fuck.

your entire body jolts, a startled gasp escaping your lips as your head snaps up.

yixing.

he stands frozen in the doorway, his dark eyes locked onto you, lips parted just slightly—like he just walked in on something forbidden. intoxicating. devastatingly hot.

his gaze flickers down, taking in everything.

the way your fingers are still pressed against your soaked folds, the way your body still quivers, trembling from how close you had been.

your stomach drops, embarrassment crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“yixing, i—”

“no need to explain yourself, sweetheart.”

his voice is soft, but firm.

your breath stutters.

“keep going.”

your brows furrow, heat creeping up your cheeks. “huh?”

he takes a slow, deliberate step closer, letting the door click shut behind him.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, watching you. calculating. deciding.

“don’t stop now, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, knowing, teasing.

“you were so close.”

your stomach flips, the burn of embarrassment warring with something hotter, deeper, dirtier.

his eyes never leave yours as he lowers himself onto the bed, settling between your legs.

too close. too much. too overwhelming.

his lips curve into a lazy smirk, eyes flicking down between your thighs.

“so pretty,” he murmurs. “all soaked for me.”

a sharp, embarrassed whimper leaves your throat, and he just smirks deeper.

“keep going, baby,” he urges, his fingers dragging slow, teasing strokes up and down your thighs, his touch featherlight.

“wanna see you get yourself there again.”

your body shudders, still aching, still needing.

your fingers find your clit again, tentative, hesitant, embarrassed.

his eyes darken.

“more,” he exhales, “i want you as desperate as you were before i walked in, angel.”

your fingers press down, working slow but steady, trying to chase the pleasure you had lost.

yixing hums, watching intently, his head lowering until his lips graze the inside of your thigh.

you twitch.

his smirk returns.

“so sensitive,” he murmurs, lips pressing soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh.

his fingers press against your skin, holding you still, holding you open.

“feels good?” he murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin, sucking just enough to leave a faint mark.

your breath hitches.

“y-yeah. so good,”

his teeth scrape lightly, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting.

“good girl.”

his lips trail higher, his breath hot against your skin as he watches your fingers slick with your arousal.

“you look so fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs.

his teeth sink in just slightly, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain through you.

your fingers move faster, circling your clit, thighs trembling as the pleasure climbs again.

yixing hums against your skin, his breath hot, teasing, knowing.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs.

“cum for me.”

his teeth scrape against the softest part of your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh, his voice low, hypnotic, filthy.

“cum for me like a good girl.”

and you do.

pleasure slams into you, your body arching, your mouth falling open in a choked, broken moan.

yixing groans softly, his grip tightening as he holds you through it, watching every shake, every tremor, every twitch of your thighs as you unravel for him.

he licks his lips, watching the way your body twitches, your breath still ragged, your clit still aching.

his smirk turns dangerous.

“‘kay,” he breathes, his fingers spreading you open.

“let’s see if you can cum again for me.”

before you can catch your breath, his lips lock around your still-sensitive bud, his tongue lapping, flicking, teasing.

you’re fucked.

[writingduhh]

I know he talks about the money a lot, but he’s probably regretting making the comment about his type in the truck driving sim since majority of the donos are that now.

Guys … please be normal. He doesn’t want to date a fan, his whole bit is he hates his fan base. Stop projecting a fanfic onto him or he’s going to do the dsmp ban all over again. We literally just got him back to streaming again.

This this this!

Let’s just keep the fanfic to ourselves and enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed, IN OUR BRAIN. Stop saying weird shit to him. Stop speculating weird shit. Stop assuming because you’re 5’8 he wants you.

If he did end up dating a fan yall bitches would LOOOSEEE IT…. Let’s calm down he’s just a normal man. He’s human too.

It’s going to take a toll on his career watch :/

BE PARASOCIAL IN SILENCE (Jkjk kinda)

[grimwarden]

i wish lockpicking was a thing in dav. lace could say she picked it up from varric the first time she opens something. as a treat to me. since we're a little over class differences, taash and neve could lockpick too imo. and lucanis. which would mean there's almost always a lockpick in your party, but it wouldn't matter anyway. since we have exploration abilities. if no one else, it genuinely could be lace's thing.

[eydilily]

hermit family photo ! ! !