#because they just. all of their body sees. all of their body has all of their senses all the time

[meo-eiru]

Since I'm busy working on a valentines day drawing I thought we could do something different until I'm done with that. Trivia night! I'll be writing what's basically a compilation of fun facts we've already established or haven't learned yet. We will also learn more about their backstories.

For tonight we have Silas

Silas has a mom and dad but isn't close with neither of them

As a child he was quite needy compared to other elven kids

Elves almost never stray too far away from the elven village but Silas liked to play in the depths of the forest

He learned about humans from a story book he found while playing in the forest

He was amazed by the colorful imagery and the familial relationship depicted in the book and wanted to have the same, which kickstarted his human hyperfixation

He's currently the most knowledgeable elf in humans within the village

His house is located quite far away from the village, he can still reach there by walking but it's not somewhere where the other elves can just stumble upon

He likes sweet things like fruits or honey but dislikes the taste of meat so doesn't feed it to you much as well

He, just like the other elves, while natural with most other living things, hates all demonic creatures

He's very nice and sweet with you but wouldn't glance twice at other forest creatures and is actively hostile towards demons

Of course he would never let you see him make that kind of face

He thought of using magic to make you live as long as he does but it feels like tempering with your humanity so if you die he's planning to die with you

He's actually not that good at magic compared to other elves, he just knows the basics and relies on books for the rest

He's average height for an elf

He doesn't like leaving bite marks or hickeys on your body because it feels like dirtying your perfect form

But he really likes it when you mark his skin, whether they are hickeys or wounds

While more compassionate than other elves, Silas does have a bit of a superiority complex like them

For example, unlike other elves he does see the intelligence of humans but would still say elves are smarter

He doesn't have any ill intentions with it, to him it's just like saying a unicorn is be better than a horse

He doesn't like eating carrots because he thinks they look like elf ears

He loves learning more about you but dislikes hearing about your family

He doesn't want you to have pets, only the two of you are allowed inside his house

He does have a bathroom in his house but it's just a replica of what he saw in books and isn't actually that functional

If you want to use the bathroom for your baths instead of the river like he does, he just carries the water from the river to his house then uses magic to make it rain on you like a shower head

Even if you don't allow him inside the bathroom he still watches from the window

He has a diary where he writes everything you do in a day, from what activities you did to how many times you blink on average

If you offered to live in a human city with him he would refuse, while he likes humans you are his utmost priority and it's better for you to be inside his house away from everyone's reach

[ilium-ilia]

Chaînés

ballerina reader x gym-rat soap

It's hard for Johnny to focus at the gym when there's a ballerina spinning in a box just for him.

tags: johnny "came back wrong" mactavish, light stalking, non-consensual pictures/drawings, johnny is not mentally sound, references to johnny being shot, choke holds, abduction.

a/n: i keep having dreams about being back in ballet and being forced to dance so i this is my attempt of getting that dream to stop.

There is a new room in the gym. It stares through Johnny like baptism water in the church he attended when he was a child. It burns just as bad as the hellfire his pastor promised would befall him if he couldn’t tell the difference between good and evil. 

He’s watched its construction for the last handful of weeks. Incessant drilling and the cacophonous melody of power tools has made his evenings pumping iron less than pleasant, and his ears ache from how far he has to shove his earbuds into the canal to drown out the noise. The only reason he started coming here was because of his sleeping issues—how his body seems too high strung to relax when the moon rises—and it’s been disrupted by inconsiderate construction workers. Now, every bastard in a high-vis vest has vanished, leaving him alone with nothing but the bar clasped in his palms and the lingering sillage of sawdust. 

For a few more weeks, the room stands empty. It’s nothing special. Nothing that he believes should harbor more of his attention than has already been stolen. Floor to ceiling glass windows offer little privacy for the pinewood floors and dazzling mirrors that line the walls. It is an abandoned box. It haunts the gym with no heart to hold. 

When no one is looking, he wanders through the unlocked door. He is met with only the sound of his running shoes echoing off of the pristine floor and the never-ending image of himself pasted upon the walls. He sees himself from every angle. From the side, like a bystander. From above, like an omniscient god. It only gets worse when the automatic lights trip and flicker to life, buzzing like the dying breath of an animal caught in the constricting ribcage of fear. 

Johnny stares at himself as if he were a stranger. He scrutinizes the tattoo on his forearm and the stretch of his compression shorts over his thighs. Angry fingernails dig into the pink keloid by his temple. His skin buzzes at the bump. Hair follicles attempt to press through the scar tissue, but it follows the old fracturing of his skull. It dies in a star pattern that leaves him naked—a warrior without a weapon. 

As his feet cross the threshold back into the weight room, Johnny promises himself he will never traverse back into that box again. 

On Monday, the room is full. 

Women clad in elastic garments sprawl out on the floor on multicolored mats as they stretch. Their appearance stops Johnny in his tracks, leaving him to stare through the thin window that separates them apart. Yoga, he realizes. The awkward positions and instructor towards the front has his skin squirming within its own confines. There are too many eyes. They echo through the mirror—they all find him. 

Deciding to spend his evening on the other side of the gym, Johnny starts off with cardio. It’s the only way he can satiate the need to flee from wandering gazes without actually vanishing. It’s the only way he can drown out the solicitude that lurks too deep for him to reach in and claw it out. 

Peeved that he has to now change his whole routine, Johnny grumples through the night as he packs up his water bottle and slugs towards the exit. As his feet tread, he reminds himself to request the class schedule for the room from the front desk. He wants to avoid the eyes. The gazes. The pupils that pierce through him worse than a bullet. 

Johnny freezes when he sees something spinning. 

There, through the thin veil, you dance. Rhythmic and fluid. Like a babbling river. Like blood dribbling from a wound. Propped up en pointe, you pirouette with your arms above your head and your head snapping in spinning circles, eyes keeping contact with yourself through the mirror. He witnesses the way your chest expands with a huff—how you refuse to rest before attempting the move again. 

You see him in the mirror. Standing behind you, pack slung over his shoulder as if it were heavy enough to be a rifle. He sees you see him. 

Ignoring him as if he is nothing more than a trick of the light, you continue with your practice. 

Johnny can’t sleep at night. The image of you burns too deeply into his retinas, and he can’t shake you loose. You’re lodged in his psyche. Trapped deep in the tissue of his brain where you nettle—making space for yourself. A bed of brain matter. He envelopes you too readily. His body holds you home and it screeches whenever he attempts to yank you out like a weed from the earth. 

So you spin. 

And spin. 

The next time he goes to the gym, he brings his sketchbook. 

Really, he’s not sure why he lugs the thing around. The only thing it’s full of is pain—bleeding ink that soaks each page like blood on cement. That book harbors the residue of each gun he’s shot and the soil of every country his boots have kissed. It holds the memories of the places he can’t return to. The man he used to be before he was fractured beyond repair. 

Now, he uses it to record you. Committing your image with his pencil, he sits on the bench press closest to the window as you practice again while the night waxes away from the evening. He sketches the curve of your pointe shoes, the delicacy of your fingers as you hold your arms out on either side of your torso—you’re printed onto paper as you present an arabesque with trembling calves and quads. 

Throughout it all, you do not recognize him in the mirror behind you. You give him no hint that you are aware of his presence besides a quiet flickering of your eyes in the reflective surface before you continue to glissade across glistening floors.

It isn’t until the second week of this—of this new routine Johnny has found himself in—that he realizes he never sees you enter or exit the room. 

You’re always there, appearing out of thin air the moment the area is vacated by the yoga class or anyone else who wishes to lurk within those four, painful walls. He blinks, and you’re there, dancing through the windows like a collector’s doll stuck in the confines of her box for all of eternity. Never to be embraced. Never to be loved. Only made to be gawked at while chained down by your hands and wrists, unforgiving zip ties digging into your skin like a honed edge. 

It’s then that Johnny begins to question if he’s seeing things again. Factitious things. After he was discharged (bullet buzz, buzz, buzzing through his skull, cold cement on his cheek, blood, drip, drip, dripping from his teeth), it was troubling to differentiate between what was real, and what was fabricated. Thoughts bleeding into reality—a clear ichor that only morphs his vision, but doesn’t obscure it. 

At home, his fingers brush over his artwork. Tenderly, as if he’s pasted your very flesh onto each page. He tells himself that you have to be real. The proof of it is in his very hands—it’s tangible. This book that holds your likeness. It would be impossible for his disconnected mind to dream up something as lovely as you. There is no morphing here. No shadows twist to contort and confuse his mind. 

He’s sure of it—

—until he isn’t. 

Once more, his sweet ballerina has come to perform for him—to haunt him. You spin before him like a music box doll, steady and without a care for the eyes piercing through the window to look at you. There is not a single soul in the building besides you and him. (If you even have a soul at all). The barrier that separates the two of you seems thinner than ever as he puts pencil to paper and inscribes your likeness as if he fears his mind might forget if there is no physical reminder to follow him home.

He soaks up the view of your feet. The way the arch curves beneath your body weight. The way sweat beads along your collarbones and the line of your forehead. He wonders if the brine is as tasty as it looks. 

When you stop to catch your breath, your eyes find Johnny in the mirror. Sitting, hunched forward on the bench, scribbling down in his journal. His heart ceases to beat, and the tip of his pencil stills against his paper as he straightens himself up. He would open his mouth to speak if it weren’t for the insufferable barrier that separates the two of you—keeping you confined to your own little worlds. Instead, he smiles. 

You stare right through him. 

You do not smile back. 

Johnny is incensed when you continue your routine. You leap through the air without a care in the world, and you leave him sitting there to wonder if you ever even saw him at all. No, you did. When he reaches up and touches his chest, he feels his shirt. He feels the blood pulsing beneath his fingertips. His hand presses forward and it doesn’t punch through his sternum because he’s real. 

He’s real. 

But are you real? Or are you some creature sent to torment him within the confines of his own mind? 

Slamming his journal shut, Johnny tosses it into his bag with a huff. Hot air passes from his nostrils like a bull ready to charge, and he struts up to the glass, so close that his nose nearly presses against it. Fog builds on the surface as his palm lies flat against it. It’s frigid to the touch. Standing, separating. The barrier that traps you is real and algid beneath his fingers. 

But are you real?

Metal bites into his skin as he twists the knob on the door to the room. He promised himself that he would never step foot in there again—where the eyes are plenty and his scar screams louder than he can—but he tells himself he has to know. It clicks quietly shut behind him only to be drowned out by the sound of your pointe shoes tapping against the pine at your feet. It echoes like a hushed prayer. It rattles his eardrum. Tangible. Real. 

But are you real?

Feverish skin bleeds through his hand when he grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Wild eyes look to him, and for the first time he’s able to see what they’re like without the barrier of a reflection to get in the way. Sweet lips part and he sees the way your teeth shine beneath the fluorescent lights that hang over your heads. 

“Excuse me?” 

Bitter. Sharp. Your question pierces through his eardrum and he smiles. Your voice. An alluring melody. His grip only grows more firm as you attempt to wrench yourself free from his grasp. 

Real. 

Your screams are just as corporeal as the rest of you. It reverberates off the walls of Johnny’s skull, and it forces his face to contort at the throb in his brain. Oh, how it aches. How it always aches. He muffles you with the palm of his hand flat against your lips and he presses until he feels your tongue. Rigid nails dig into his flesh as his forearm wraps around your throat and squeezes. He feels the sting of broken skin—real—and the pressure of dull teeth against his fingers—real—and hot tears along the back of his hand—real. 

It isn’t long before your body grows heavy. Johnny lays you on the floor like Ophelia in a river; Odette in the lake; Aurora in her bed. Limp limbs lie helplessly as he stares down at you and rakes trembling fingers over every inch of your body. Every curve he has committed to memory for the last few weeks is now here before him—tangible. 

“Real,” he says outloud. A tender thumb brushes against your split bottom lip. “You’re real. And I’m real. I made you real.” 

Johnny sleeps better now that he’s started going to the gym. Muscles melt just as they should the very moment his head hits his pillow, and his slumber calls to him without issue. Of course, it helps that he has his sweet ballerina to keep him company. Head propped up next to his, tear stains on your cheeks, and eyes squeezed tight as you rest soundly in his bed.

He reaches out and cups your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your skin twitches beneath him, but you do not stir. Grinning in the darkness of his bedroom, Johnny hums, content with his life. Content with knowing that you truly are real. 

After all, the proof of it is in his very hands. 

[tsuyalovebot]

make him lose his cool.

suggestive and sexual content. mdni, ageless blogs dni.

xia yi zhou / caleb x reader.

cw. drabble (~1k wc, written in one sitting. ignore any typos.) no sex, but caleb popping a boner like a victorian man. afab reader (that also wears bras). mc=reader.

"caleb is an ass man!" "no, he likes tits!"

personally, i think caleb would have a near panic attack upon seeing your shoulder, elbow, or ankle.

he just does a really good job of pretending he doesn't mind it. after all, the two of you grew up together. he's had to put his hands on you many times — carrying, tending to scrapes and cuts, tickling you, ruffling your hair, squeezing your face. skinship was a language that the two of you were plenty fluent in.

but the year spent apart failed to maintain this, like some half-assed video streaming subscription, and caleb's the newborn fawn learning how to walk.

so what happens when he knocks on the room to his bedroom — it belongs to you now, technically — with a plate of breakfast before coming in, and he witnesses you sitting up, all sleepy and the neckline of his shirt slightly sliding down your shoulder?

he's going to throw himself off a cliffside. maybe even off skyhaven itself.

the plate hits the bedside table on your side with a loud clatter. none of the food spilled over, luckily. he has half a mind to garble some lame excuse about being busy and a quick good morning before trying to bolt.

but, caleb nearly snaps into two when you tug at the hem of his shirt, slumber still slurred in your words as you ask where he's going. there'd been no strength in that tug. yet, he stopped in his tracks all the same. he ends up listening to your grumbles, ones reminding him that it's his day off, remember? you promised you'd spend it with me.

"i gotta take a shower first," he chuckles, hoping his voice wasn't too shaky. please don't notice. please don't notice.

"but caleb," you keen.

god, it's like when he'd take leave from the academy for a few days just to go back to you and gran. always coming home to you, thoroughly acquainted with you not being a morning person but still making the effort to cling to him and savor every second you two spent together.

he assumed it would be the same now, but clearly, that was a mistake. because the coiling tension of warmth threatening to boil over in his stomach was nothing short of treacherous.

caleb does manage to escape; albeit pained by the half-awake whines behind him and the sound of you falling back into bed. god, how badly he wanted to cave into your demands. you don't even know the half of it.

he wonders if you've ever curled into his side of that bed he once slept on, seeking his cologne, his body, his warmth the same way he looks for your silhouette in every corner of this home. a melody he knows, but a name he can't quite place in this shell of a house that transformed in your presence.

regardless, it's really difficult to let this relationship rebuild organically when he was popping a boner over the slightest sliver of skin. the shower's streams are icy on his skin, the impromptu bath having thrown a wrench into his morning routine. he refuses to even touch himself. letting the proof of his sin soften under the biting cold of the water, despite the discomfort.

because nothing was more horrific than having his body react to you like a prepubescent teen discovering porn online for the first time.

caleb thinks he's safe after spending an hour in the bathroom, fingertips pruned and mind cooler than the iciest of planets. but as he's changed back into his clothes, he discovers you beside the door, a blanket around your sitting form and those eyelids droopy.

"pipsqueak? what're you doin' here?" he's crouching down — mortifying boner forgotten as he gathers you into his arms before he realizes it.

then, you stir. a whine muffled into the crook of his neck as you wrap your arms around him, the vibration seeming to ripple down his spinal column. the blanket falls from your body in the motions, and you're so soft compared to the firmness of his body.

his arms tighten around you on instinct and you let out a pleased sound and—

he stiffens. you weren't wearing a bra.

"caleb, you're done." you yawn, like the spoiled, pampered figurehead of royalty you are. you arch up into him, and he swears he feels several of his neurons die, dropping like flies in the empty cavity of his head.

"take me back to bed." he feels the air shift as you seem to inhale his scent. your voice softer, more content when you say, "i wanna sleep some more."

he's so fucking doomed.

[hoshifighting]

hiii, so imagine OT13 head canons in which they are rough but soft at the same time, like deepthroat while stroking your hair, or pounding while holding hands

how seventeen mix soft and rough at sex

WARNINGS: smut, +18

seungcheol: fucks you like a ragdoll, talks to you like you're a whore, holds your face like youre made of glass. his hands cradling your face like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. “so fucking pretty, my little slut, do you like when im destroying this pussy like this huh?” and when you try to look away, all shy, his thumbs tilt your chin back to him, forcing you to meet his eyes. “don’t hide from me~~~ let me see you drip cum around my cock.”

jeonghan: taunting at first, tilting your chin up like some princess-movie to make you look at him while he fucks into you balls deep, his grip firm in your hair. “what, baby? too much?” he coos, but his free hand is tracing delicate lines down your arm, llips brushing over yours like a secret, his next thrust knocking the air from your lungs.

joshua: he’s got you spread out beneath him, your ankles over his shoulders, deep inside you, his hands gripping your waist so tight it’s gonna bruise. he presses a kiss to your knee, then another to your ankle, eyes warm despite the filthy things he’s doing to you.

junhui: hand is firm in your hair, “mm, love hearing you like this.” and when you tense up, hands grabbing at his arms, he laughs, but it’s sweet, i feel like he gives this fun sex vibes, where you laugh, cum and feel loved at the same time (really hard to not fall in love for him in a situationship).

hoshi: will fuck you hard, with a cute and protective talk. he’s gets your back arched, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist, keeping you still as he pounds into you. “baby, baby, baby—fuck. you okay, love? still with me? want some water? a pause? no? should i continue? okay, i got you.”

wonwoo: will be touching you, caressing you all the time. arm locked around your waist, keeping you close as he fucks up into you. “shh, baby.” his other hand it’s everywhere—sliding up your back, gripping your ass, threading through your hair, like he can’t get enough of touching you.

woozi: listen to me: CHEST-TO-CHEST PRESS. if he has been mean and overstimulates you, for example, and you're squirming, or overwhelmed, he will press you down the bed with his tiddies, making you stay in place. BUT in a softer case, he will do it if you need some grounding, if you are getting in subspace... he will make sure you're protected/shielded by his big body.

minghao: fucks you rough as fuck, but trails the points of his fingers to make you shiver! of course that you can shiver from the very action of his cock sliding in and out of you, but he loves doing this because he gets so hard at the sight of you squirming under the tips of his digits.

mingyu: i feel like he would give you a desperate forhead kiss in the middle of it. he will be destroying your insides, and then he kisses your forehead, keeping his mouth there, because he gets so soft when he is about to cum. “so fucking perfect, baby.”

seokmin: he will be doing all types of stimulaton down there. masturbating your clit, fucking your pussy while you are using a plug. WHILE DOING THAT LITTLE NOSES CARESSES, tickles, strokes, fondles, i don't know what to call it.

seungkwan: eye-contact-obsession??????? needs to see you. has your face FRAMED in his hands, forcing you to look at him, even when it’s too much. “uh-uh, baby. no hiding.” his thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze locked onto yours, and when your eyes threaten to flutter shut—he tuts, tilting your chin back up. “nah, keep ‘em open. lemme see you.”

vernon: will wrap his big hand around your neck, in a very romantic way—just like he does when he is kissing you—,but would end up choking you at the end. making you feel very surprised when he moves from a caressing and light wrap, to a tighter and sexier one.

chan: fucks you hard until you see the bulge of his enormous cock on your belly, and then caresses the bulge with his thumb. cutely. too cutely, like you arent crying, squirming, screaming, wetting the bed over it.

[samkerrworshipper]

so win.

alexia putellas x reader

no fuel quite like my procrastination to not do other things i need to do. this is porn without plot, i’m not ashamed of it. it’s also unedited and has been worked on after a day of clinicals so if there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes i apologise. i wrote this in like 3 hours lol. i’m also a mess at the moment and actually avoiding my whole life so this is my outlet. anyways i wrote smut! for the first time in forever ;) also for the sake of this let’s ignore timezones bcus i couldn’t rewrite the start of this to make it work lol.

warnings: smut, 18+ viewer discretion advised

You’re not with Alexia when the campaign drops. You’re not even watching the game, you’ve never been quite able to wrap your head around the nfl thing or get into like your girlfriend, the rules of rugby have been so ingrained in your mind from childhood that seeing men run around in massive pads just gives you an ick.

You’re not even the person who sees it first, you’re sitting in a cafe trying to get some studying done because it’s impossible to do at home when your clingy girlfriend insists on sitting, holding, grabbing or clinging onto any part of your body when she’s bored. It’s like trying to keep a five year old entertained, and it always ends up with you sacrificing whatever coursework you have and being endlessly stressed when you fall behind. You simply leave studying for when Alexia is out of the house or when you have time to study elsewhere.

You’re heavily engrossed in rewatching a lecture you’d missed the previous week due to training when your phone lights up. It’s no exaggeration, your phone screen goes from being blank and dark to suddenly notification after notification pouring in. Different groupchats, instagram tags, text messages. There’s another ten minutes left on your study clock before you’re technically allowed to take a break but with every thing that pops up your only become more curious. Curious enough that you look down at your clock with complete disregard and reach for your phone. It’s sitting next to your laptop, it’s supposed to be upside down to minimise distraction but when you were watching the lecture it stopped you from being able to check the time and you liked to watch as the time ticked by.

You click onto you groupchat first, a mixture of Barca girls, mostly the older ones. Most importantly Mapi, who has bombarded the groupchat in a matter of seconds, with image after image of your girlfriend.

You click onto them harmlessly, Alexia has a series of campaigns that you’re aware of that are coming out in the next few months. As you’re waiting for the images to load you try and remember if she’d told you about any coming up, there was something for Cupra at the end of february and a big campaign for more than eleven in march, and a few smaller things amongst it but nothing you could think of that was due to release today, or in the next week.

When the first image loads, you’re eyes almost bug out. Your throat closes, the oxygen leaves your lungs and you feel almost dizzy. You have to blink multiple times to clarify that what you’re looking at is real, it’s not just a hallucination of some wet dream you’ve had, it’s a real photo that exists in front of you. As you flick through them, you only feel more unwell, and a little bit wet… or a lot.

The first one is just Alexia’s face, staring straight down the lense. The way she’s been captured is almost animalistic, pink sports bra, big earrings, her hair in the wet look. It’s her eyes though, pointed straight on, the eye fuck look, like she’s staring into your soul the same way she does before she’s about to rail you, except it’s all magically been captured in one photo. You want to look at it forever, you’re scared you’ve actually lost the ability to use your extremities and all the oxygen has stopped circulating inside your body from the mix of shock and awe.

With as much power you have you flick to the next photo, and if you were already feeling unwell this feeling is close to death.

Alexia, looking over her shoulder, flexing.

All of her tattoos are on show, every single muscle is accentuated and you almost drool on your phone as you study all of the different parts of the picture. Alexia’s skin is literally glowing, effervescently in a way you cannot even begin to describe. You know from thousands of hours of tracing the skin of your girlfriends back just how strong she is, yet with everything emphasised more in the photo you feel like no matter how many hours you’ve spent staring this is adding a whole new perspective. Her arms, her facial expressions, the illusion of her hair sticking to her skin, the pink contrast against her skin.

You have to scroll, because if you don’t you won’t be responsible for the actions you engage in whilst in a very public space.

The following few pictures are of other athletes, basketball players, gymnasts, runners, other football players. For the most part, americans, yet your girlfriend in all her glory is a part of it.

You get through quite a few photos before it comes to the video, you were already gobsmacked, but the video seals it for you.

Alexia looks flawless, absolutely ethereal in every way. It actually feels like you are living in one of your fantasies or dreams but no this is very much real life and you are actually dating the person on your screen.

There’s no chance you’re going to get any work done, you can’t even get a coherent thought that doesn’t involve Alexia. Alexia’s abs, Alexia’s back, Alexia’s eyes, Alexia’s face, Alexia. You pack up your books and laptop with one thought on your mind, seeing your girlfriend.

Mapi’s private messages to you are filthy, message after message of her reminding your of what is now out in the world and about how now even more people are going to be even more obsessed with her.

You drive home over the speed limit and slightly recklessly, it’s not a long drive from your favourite study spot to you and Alexia’s shared house, but it feels like it drags on for forever. Your knuckles are white from your tight grip on the steering wheel and your unoccupied foot is bounding furiously against your floormat. You run a couple of close yellows, which are mostly red and have a complete disregard for giving way to anybody. You have an end goal, and that goal is to get home before you combust from all of the built up energy and tension in your body from the reruns of the pictures you’d seen.

You’re not even sure if you put the car in park when you swing into the driveway, you practically sprint towards the door, leaving Alexia’s prized cupra to fend for itself. Your hand is so sweaty you struggle with the door knob for a few seconds, your brain is frantic and you struggle and jiggle with it until it finally turns and there is nothing between you and finding exactly what you’re looking for.

Alexia isn’t in the front room, not that she normally would be. You pace your way through the hallway, past your bedroom which seems unoccupied and into the living room.

Alexia.

Alexia is sitting, on your couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the shit eating grin on her face as she tries to make herself look comfortable and like she’s actually lounging on your couch. Her body is tense, it gives away her whole bravado, you don’t really care though.

“You’re home early? You said you wouldn’t be back till lunch time, no?”

There is no acknowledging of her comment, you take your jacket off and lay it on the edge of the couch before unceremoniously pouncing on your girlfriend.

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexia makes it easy enough for you to straddle her lap, opening up her legs and making plenty of room for you.

You stare into her eyes and all you can picture is the photo of her, the look on her face isn’t dissimilar to the one captured, but it’s not quite the same.

“The campaign? Did I not mention it?”

You roll your eyes before leaning down, alexia goes with ease, her mouth opening up for you as soon as your lips meet hers. It’s all teeth and tongue, not quite a fight for dominance, just pure arousal.

“You’re a brat, and really fucking sexy.”

Alexia smirks against your lips, and then she bites back, her tongue fighting against yours.

“So you like it?”

You move your lips to Alexia’s neck, licking a line down her neck and kissing up it before biting down, foregoing any kind of gentle.

“Do I like my girlfriend looking extremely fuckable on the internet? Jury’s still out on that one.”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head back to give you full access to her neck.

“Mm, muy fuckable.”

The laugh that leaves her mouth is enough fuel for you to nip her again, sucking a mark right above her collar bone, not directly visible but enough to make her sweat about keeping it hidden at training tomorrow.

“I’m going to need a private show in that outfit at some stage.”

You move back up to Alexia’s mouth, this time the make out is less frantic, you’ve gotten out some of your residual jitters.

“That can always be arranged.”

You tug at the hem of Alexia’s sleep shirt that she still hasn’t gotten out of yet.

“Bed first, fashion show after.”

In the swiftest motion possible Alexia is bringing herself up onto her feet, and lifting you with her. You wrap your legs around her torso, never breaking the makeout.

She makes it to your bedroom at a record speed, dumping you onto the mattress before climbing back on top of you, her shirt being thrown haphazardly into the air somewhere as she lowers herself down. There’s no bra to fight with and you reach for her breasts before her lips are back on you, grabbing and rolling at her nipples until she gets the message and has climbed fully onto the mattress on top of you.

Alexia stays on top of you, making out for a while, until she get’s bored with her hands and decides that you need to mirror her level of undressed. She flips you on top with so much ease that it doesn’t even surprise you, the photos on the internet showed Alexia’s muscles, but they didn’t show just how strong your girlfriend truly was.

Alexia didn’t mess around with your tank top and bra, tugging them off with the same kind of urgency that you’d been in to get back to the house earlier. As soon as the clothes are gone you’re flipped back onto the mattress, Alexia retaking her position. Her hands go straight to your tits, pinching and pulling in a way that makes your back nearly arch off the bed. You’re already aroused from your session in the coffee shop, but this is only adding fuel to the fire.

It takes everything in you not to moan immediately, you clench your jaw and bite your lip as Alexia elicits all different kinds of sensations.

‘Sé ruidoso bebita.”

As per usual, not much gets past Alexia, you try to relax just slightly, let yourself feel it all completely.

“How wet are you going to be when I finally touch your pussy, hm? How wet did my photos get you? All hot and bothered in the coffee shop like a little slut.”

There is no point in shaking your head, you just smirk, you’re proud of it, you’re proud that you get to come home to this and everyone else just has to enjoy Alexia from a far.

“Show me, reach into your panties and show me how wet you are and maybe I’ll think about touching you.”

You hesitate for a second, but then Alexia pinches on of your nipples and rolls your other breast in her hand and your hand naturally moves downwards, your hips canting up as you do so.

Your fingertips are glistening and dripping as you bring them out of your shorts, Alexia doesn’t hesitate to pull them straight into her mouth, sucking all of your arousal straight off.

“Alexia, please.”

Alexia licks her lips in a way that makes you so certain that she’s desperate for more, she’s just as turned on about this as you are.

“Pants off.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth your reaching for them hem of your pants and kicking them off, your panties go with them.

Alexia doesn’t wait, she moves her body downwards until her mouth is hovering right above you.

She looks up at you, hesitates for a second, it’s the exact same face as the photo, beautifully feral.

She doesn’t hold back whatsoever, her mouth goes straight to your clit and you’re already aroused, already dripping everywhere but you reach another level. Your moans are breathy and free falling.

“Fuck baby, feels so good.”

You’re a stuttering mess and far too aroused to try and pretend like you aren’t already close.

Alexia keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking at your clit and occasionally living long strips up from your pussy. It feels so good, earth shattering good.

“Ale, close.”

You expect her to pull back a little bit, normally she likes to prolong your pleasure just a little bit, the wait is worth the reward. But it seems like the both of you are too aroused to ignore the urgency of the situation. Alexia doubles down, her arms pushing your thighs further apart and reaching up behind you to grab at your ass whilst she enjoys having more access.

When you realise she isn’t going to let up you unclench your hands from the sheets and push them into Alexia’s hair, grabbing at the root and pushing her exactly where you want, grinding down against her chin.

It doesn’t take long at all, alread close as it was. Then Alexia grazes her teeth over your clit and doubles down and you see stars. Your body goes with you, shaking and tensing before relaxing as your enjoy the aftershocks. Alexia takes the opportunity, pushing two fingers into you and setting a brutal pace.

“Alexia, need a second.”

Alexia doesn’t stop, if anything she only goes harder, her fingers searching for your g-spot and finding it with ease. The overstimulation makes your stomach tight and yoru clit ache, in the best way.

“Una mas.”

You shake your head, even though it’s blatantly clear you’re going to give her another one, there isn’t really a world where you wouldn’t, not when Alexia makes it so easy to feel so good.

“You can give me one more bebita.”

Alexia’s palm grinds against your clit gloriously, it’s a bit too much for a few seconds but it fades as the pleasure overtakes.

Alexia’s favourite activity is amking you fall apart, watching you experience a kind of pleasure that is unmatchable, all at her own hands. Alexia adds a third finger, knowing that it’ll give you what you need.

It’s more than enough for what you need to reach a release. This time the initial orgasm lasts longer, you tense for a few seconds before you go boneless on the mattress. You melt into the sheets, your head lulling against the pillow as you breathe your way through.

Once you’ve stopped clenching against Alexia she pulls her fingers out, licking up every part of your orgasm, not leaving a single drop behind.

She crawls her way up to you, lying down on her side next to you, looking at the blissed out expression on your face.

Your eyes open lazily, a big smile on your face.

“You’re unreal, literally, how did I get this lucky?”

Alexia leans in, it would be rude to not kiss your lips at every possible chance, especially when your smiling at her like that.

“The real question is how I got this lucky.”

It the same kind of phrase that would elicit vomiting noises from your teammates in the locker room, and yet you love it all the same.

The kiss is soft, everything you need in the moment. It gives you enough confidence to reach your hands down inbetween the two of you, pressing down against Alexia’s front with one intention.

Alexia gasps into your mouth, and it’s enough guidance for you.

You walk your fingers up to the waistband of her pyjama shorts that she still hasn’t changed out of at nearly midday. You trail them down on the inside, unsurprised at her lack of underwear.

Alexia’s wet, the cotton of her shorts sticking to the insides of her thighs.

You part her folds, enjoying the way she moans and gasps into your mouth as you map your way through a different part of her body.

When your fingers find her clit, it’s easy to tell just how turned on she is.

You set a pace of fast tight circles, you’re well educated on Alexia’s body and when she’s this worked up this is the best way to get her to an orgasm.

You know she’s getting closer when her kisses get sloppier and desperate, her lips hang onto yours like they’re becoming an extension of her, like she’s scared that if you separate it’ll take part of her with her.

She shakes and grinds into you, searching for that last bit of stimulation she needs. When she infds it she groans into your mouth, her hips jerking one final time before they go weak, her body goes still for a few seconds. You slow down but don’t come to a full stop, pulling every last bit of her orgasm out for her until she’s tugging your hand out of her shorts.

Alexia presses some soft kisses to your lips before pulling you into her with one arm.

“If that’s what I get every time I take some nice pictures, maybe I should do it a bit more. See if I can get a job with Victoria’s secret or a swimsuit company.”

Alexia doesn’t need to see the look on your face to know exactly how all of your features would clenhc up and your eyes would roll.

“If you do that there will be a whole lot less sex for you and a whole lot more sessions with my vibrator for me. You’re cute, but I’d like to keep some of it for me.”

Alexia snorts, before tugging you in tighter.

“The fans would like it so much though, maybe I should just post some of the photos from the beach over the summer in Ibiza, the topless ones were cute.”

You elbow Alexia straight in the gut.

“How about you model the nike outfits for me first, and then we can decide how far you can take your new found modelling career.”

You’re still in slight disbelief that Alexia managed to keep something this big from you. She was obviously always having ongoing things going with nike, but something this big, and this special was hard to keep underwraps.

“I looked that good, huh?”

You roll even further into Alexia, pressing your whole body into hers.

“Muy bueno. New additions to the wank bank right there.”

You snort when you look over your shoulder and see the confusion on Alexia’s face, her english is good, but her english slang lacks in certain departments.

“Wank bank?”

You snort again, the innocence behind her voice makes it so much better.

“Just my folder for when I’m very alone on camp, and need some extra assistance.”

Alexia’s brain clicks, she laughs, and then the meaning must click in because she blushes beet red.

You stand up, already searching for your forgotten articles of clothing.

“Wait a minute, wank bank? What else is in this folder?”

You’re already tugging your pants on and trying to find your tank top which had apparently vanished into thin air.

“Hopefully whatever new photos I can find in the album of spares that was left over from this shoot.”

Before you can hear what else Alexia says you’re racing off in search of her laptop.

“Wait, I need to see this folder. Bebita, I need my own folder. WHAT IS IN THIS FOLDER.”

—————-

anyways have a wonderful day/night! i love you! somebody out there loves you! you are blessed to have this day and every other one to come <3

[liabugs]

how do you think the boys would be with an mc who's like deathly scared of sex, like she wants it but is so terribly frightened of it :( like she can cuddle and kiss them but she gets scared when things get sexual :(

I have so many asks in my inbox but this one caught my eye :3

This took kinda a dark turn in zayne's + Caleb's so tw for dubcon/noncon, not proof read

CW: fam!reader (she/her pronouns used) male masturbation, making out, pantie stealing (?) baby trapping, use if 'gege' (Caleb's) let me know if I missed any 🩷

Dividers by @/v6que and @/anitalenia!!

Xavier — ୨୧

Xavier would never force you into doing anything that you're not comfortable with. He wouldn't be pushy at all. When you're ready, he's ready. But that doesn't mean he doesn't get blue balls when you make out with him :(

Your lips moving perfectly against his, his tongue caressing yours... His hands on your hips.. But it's all gone when he starts to lose his resolve and grinds his hips against yours. You pull away, Xavier mentally cursing himself for getting ahead of himself and ruining the moment.

So when he leaves your place somewhere around 10:30 pm after finishing a movie, the moment he steps into his apartment he rushes to his room to relieve himself.

He thinks about how your cunt would feel wrapped around his length, so warm and tight. Pumping his cock in his fist, pre cum seeping from his slit. He can't help but cum moaning your name.

Rafayel — ୨୧

Rafayel can be needier than most, but he always puts your comfort before his. He loves you to the point where just having your presence around him is enough to satisfy him.

So the first time you get intimate with him is very cute! Playfulness and teasing all around. Rafayel takes a more wholesome approach to things, making sure to praise you the way you deserve.

Feather light kisses, giggling and other wholesome things to lighten up the mood. Because there's one thing Rafayel doesn't want you feeling when being intimate with him, that being scared.

Zayne — ୨୧

Zayne is totally fine with you not being comfortable being intimate with him. He's a busy guy, so chased kiesses and cute dates work fine. At least that's what you see on the outside.

On the inside, he is raging with sexual frustration. He does a good job of hiding it though, taking cold showers to get rid of his sexual tension. It gets to a point where cold showers aren't cutting it anymore.

And before he knows it, he's using the spare key to you apartment. He's going through your underwear drawer, he tries to rationalize his actions. But the way you cute black lace panties feel around his cock overpowers any sanity he has left.

And if you found out? Could you really blame him? You make it hard not to loose control of his usually composed demeanor.

Sylus — ୨୧

Sylus is nothing if not patent. The time will come when you will get over your fears, the time will come when you crave him in every way he craves you.

And when that time comes, you will share the same longing Sylus has felt for lifetimes. Sylus is nothing if not gentle. Slow, soft and sensual. His hands moving all over your body, his lips fitting perfectly with yours.

He loves the way you look at him, unsure, hesitant... He loves when your face contorts in pleasure, when you realize that there was nothing to be fearful of. He loves when you depend on him for pleasure, because he's the only one you can make you feel good.

He's the only one who can make you see stars when you give him your everything.

Caleb — ୨୧

Caleb knows your scared, it's okay, he only wants the best for you. And the best thing for you is to go dumb on his cock and take his seed. Let him knock you up, he knows it's scary. But when he fucks his baby into you, everything will be okay, you'll be safe.

He'll make sure of it, you trust him right? His pipsqueak trusts her gege to make the right choice for her? Ssh ssh it's okay I know baby, just take it... Just focus on how good it feels. As he pumps his hot load into you, tears streaming down your face.

He would kiss your tears away and tell you how good you were for him, he would apologize for hurting you... He was just doing what's in your best interest, you can forgive him right?

[svtiddiess]

Prescription For Pussy

Synopsis: With Mingyu hidden under your desk as the intern keeps you occupied, you can’t resist the urge to tease him. But your playful antics only seem to fuel his desperation, turning him into a whimpering, eager puppy beneath you.

Pairing: husband!nurse!Mingyu x wife!doctor!reader ft. medical intern!Chan

Genre: smut, established relationship, non-idol!au, medical! au, mini-series

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: petnames (puppy), public sex (Chan is in the room with them but can't see what they're doing), sub!Mingyu, dom!Y/N, oral (fem receiving), fingering, dry humping, Mingyu cumming in his pants, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Suprise! You thought the 1k celebration was done? Nope! Have another special bonus from me featuring the Sex Education couple. Enjoy!

Thank you so much to @seokgyuu, @gyubakeries, and @ylangelegy for beta reading!

And thank you to my twin @tomodachiii for helping me with the plot!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Raising an eyebrow, you fold your arms across your chest and fix Mingyu with a deadpan look as he casually makes himself comfortable on your desk.

"Don't you have better things to do than bother me?" you sigh.

"Nope," he replies, popping the 'p' with a playful grin, his legs swinging like a carefree child. "Finished all my tasks for my shift. The other nurses are doing their rounds, so I thought, why not spend some quality time with my lovely wife?"

Shaking your head, you let out another sigh and step closer. Placing your arms on either side of him, you trap him between you and the desk.

"Well, your lovely wife is a busy doctor with plenty to do, dear husband," you tease with a grin.

"My wife is so smart and successful," he says with a giggle. "I’m so proud she became a doctor."

You laugh softly and lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Well, I was lucky to have the best tutor," you grin.

"And I was lucky to have a very hot student," he purrs in response.

"You were," you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting them on the back of his head. "It was adorable how oblivious you were to my flirting," you tease, watching his cheeks flush red.

"I wasn’t oblivious," he whines.

"Then why were you acting like such a loser?" you prod, giggling.

"Because I was shy," he defends with a pout. "You were so pretty, and I didn’t want to ruin it by doing something stupid."

"You thought I was pretty?" you tilt your head, laughing softly.

"Mhm," he hums, pulling you closer by the waist. "Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And luckily for me, I somehow managed to make her my wife," he whispers against your lips.

You giggle and close the distance, your lips meeting his in a warm kiss. Mingyu hums softly into it, the vibrations sending a rush of electricity through your body. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, your tongues moving in perfect sync. The moment grows heated, the room suddenly feels much warmer. Mingyu’s hand sneaks down to your butt, giving it a playful squeeze that elicits a soft moan from you.

Just as the atmosphere turns steamy—

Knock, knock!

A sudden knock snaps you both out of the moment. You jolt apart, eyes wide in panic as the sound rings out again.

"Dr. Y/N, may I come in?"

It’s Chan, the intern. You glance at Mingyu, who looks equally alarmed, and in a flash of desperation, you grab him and push him under the desk. He shoots you a bewildered look, but you quickly whisper for him to stay put.

Smoothing out your shirt and skirt, you sit down at your desk and call out, "Come in!"

Chan peeks his head through the door, offering a sheepish smile.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" he asks hesitantly.

"Not at all," you reply with your most professional smile, silently praying that the blush on your cheeks has faded. "Please, come in and have a seat."

Chan, a newly assigned intern at the hospital, is a bit naive but undeniably intelligent and brimming with enthusiasm for learning. As he starts asking questions from his recent rotation, you respond with a sense of gratitude, appreciating his passion for becoming a doctor.

Midway through answering, it dawns on you that Mingyu is still hidden beneath your desk. A mischievous thought crosses your mind, and you subtly slip your foot out of your heel, resting it on Mingyu. Feeling his hand wrap around your ankle, you fight to keep a straight face, resisting the urge to smirk.

You subtly move your foot toward his crotch, feeling him tense under your touch. Applying gentle pressure, you hear a soft groan escape his lips, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle a laugh.

While maintaining your conversation with Chan, you discreetly shift your chair back just enough to catch a glimpse of Mingyu in your peripheral vision. You spot him covering his mouth with one hand to muffle any sounds while his other hand guides your foot over his crotch, his expression betraying his struggle to stay composed.

You dig your heel into Mingyu's growing bulge, and you see Mingyu shut his eyes and throw his head back. A giggle slips from your lips, but you quickly disguise it with a light cough.

"Are you okay, Doctor?" Chan asks, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm fine," you reply with a smile. "Just a dry throat."

Without hesitation, Chan springs to his feet. "I'll grab you a bottle of water," he offers earnestly before hurrying out of the room.

The moment the door closes, you push your chair back slightly and glance down at Mingyu, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

Mingyu shifts his position and starts humping your leg. You laugh at his desperate state.

"Such a pathetic puppy, using my leg to get off," you mock him, and he responds with a soft whine. His movements get faster and faster, desperate to reach his high.

When you hear the door unlock, you quickly shift back to your original position, but Mingyu doesn't let up, continuing to hump your leg. Chan returns with a bottle of water, which you accept with a grateful smile. Taking a quick sip, you nod and encourage him to continue with his question.

Chan continues his questions, completely unaware of what's happening below your desk. Mingyu's movement starts to become erratic, accidental whimpers and moans escape his lips.

Chan pauses, looking around the room with a puzzled expression. "Dr. Y/N, did you hear that?" he asks.

"Hear what?" you respond, trying to brush it off.

"N-Never mind, I think I just imagined it," he says after a moment of hesitation.

You quickly shift the topic of conversation, and Chan soon forgets about the sound. You press your foot against Mingyu's groin as a warning, earning a muffled groan from him.

You feel Mingyu's hand kneading your thigh, and when you subtly glance down, you catch sight of a very hot and flustered Mingyu looking up at you with a pleading expression, silently begging you to wrap up the conversation and send Chan away. But you only smirk in return and move your leg against his crotch, causing his eyes to roll back and a silent moan to leave his lips.

As you glance back at Chan, your leg continues to brush against Mingyu's crotch, feeling his growing desperation for release. Suddenly, without warning, Mingyu's hands spread your legs apart. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but you maintain a calm demeanor. A shiver runs through you as his hand trails up your leg, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you shift slightly, caught between surprise and anticipation.

You bite your bottom lip as Mingyu shifts your panties to the side, suppressing a shiver when the cool air brushes against your exposed core. Without warning, his fingers slide into you, drawing a sharp, surprised gasp from your lips.

"Dr. Y/N? Is everything okay?" Chan asks, his voice tinged with concern.

"N-No! It's nothing," you stammer, your voice trembling. "I just thought…I left the stove on at home. But then I remembered I didn't." Mingyu lets out a quiet chuckle at your pathetic excuse while Chan gives you a puzzled look. Thankfully, he seems to buy your lie and moves on with his questions, leaving you to deal with the heat rising in your cheeks.

Mingyu slowly slips his fingers in and out of your pussy, and you bite your bottom lip to try and prevent yourself from moaning. You try to close your legs but Mingyu's strong hand holds them open. He slowly picks up his pace, and you feel your body heat up; you really hope that Chan doesn't see the blush dusting your cheeks.

A soft whimper nearly slips past your lips as Mingyu slides another finger inside you. Your hands grip the edge of the desk, nails digging into the wood as you silently hope Chan doesn't notice the faint, wet sounds coming from beneath the desk. Your body tenses when Mingyu’s fingers brush against your G-spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that leaves you craving more.

"C-Chan!" you blurt out, cutting him off mid-sentence, then quickly clear your throat, flustered. "Can we, um, continue this discussion another time? There are a few things I need to take care of soon," you say, trying to sound composed as you urge him to leave.

"Oh! Of course, Dr. Y/N. I’m so sorry for taking up your time," Chan replies apologetically, quickly gathering his things and exiting the room. The moment the door clicks shut, you’re left alone with Mingyu once again, the tension between you palpable.

You immediately roll your chair back and grab Mingyu by his hair, yanking him closer as you lean down with a scowl. He meets your glare with a playful smirk, unfazed by your irritation.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" you snap, your voice low and sharp.

"Just helping you get rid of Chan," he replies with a grin, his tone dripping with mischief. "And it worked, didn't it?"

You let out a scoff, tightening your grip on his hair until he lets out a soft whimper. "You're such an idiot," you mutter, though there’s a flicker of amusement in your voice.

"Maybe," he says, his smirk widening. "But hey, I might not be a gynaecologist, babe, but I know my way around your pussy."

Rolling your eyes, you tug harder on his hair, earning another whimper. "Oh yeah? Prove it, then, puppy. Make me cum with your fingers."

With a devilish grin, Mingyu picks up the pace, his fingers relentlessly targeting that spongy spot that turns your mind to mush. A string of curses spills from your lips as you throw your head back, spreading your legs wider to give him better access. The tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter with every thrust of his fingers, the room echoing with the lewd, wet sounds of your arousal.

"I-I'm close," you whimper, your body trembling as it edges toward release.

Mingyu's free hand sneaks to your clit, tracing slow, deliberate circles over the sensitive nub. The sensation sends a sharp moan tearing from your throat as you finally tip over the edge, your body convulsing with waves of euphoria.

After a few more pumps, Mingyu pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking your juices off with a satisfied hum. "Always so sweet," he murmurs, his smirk widening.

"Yeah? Then you should have more," you growl, snatching his glasses off and tossing them onto the desk. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you yank him forward, pressing his face firmly against your cunt.

Without hesitation, Mingyu dives in, eagerly lapping up your juices as his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even wider. Despite still being sensitive from your last orgasm, you tug sharply on his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches and writhes under his touch.

Shaky moans and breathless whimpers escape your lips as his tongue teases and prods at your entrance. Mingyu’s own muffled moans vibrate against you, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. Feeling the familiar coil of pleasure tightening once more, you lose yourself in the sensation, grinding against his face as if he’s nothing more than your personal fuck toy, desperate for that second release.

With a low growl, Mingyu hooks your legs over his shoulders, burying his face deeper into your slick cunt, determined to make you cum on his tongue. Your moans grow louder, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra as you teeter on the edge of release. Just as you’re about to tip over, his nose brushes against your clit, and that’s all it takes to send you spiralling.

His name becomes a chant, a desperate prayer, as your second orgasm crashes over you. Waves of pleasure ripple through your body, leaving you trembling and breathless. Mingyu moans against you, savoring every drop as he laps up your arousal, refusing to let a single one go to waste.

After a few final, lingering licks, he gently sets your legs down, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before tugging your panties back into place. You glance down at him, noticing the unmistakable damp spot on his pants, and a sly grin spreads across your face.

"Looks like someone came in their pants without even being touched," you tease, your voice dripping with amusement.

Mingyu smirks up at you, unashamed. "Can't help it when I've got such a pretty pussy in my mouth." You let out a soft chuckle as you reach for Mingyu’s glasses, carefully placing them back on his face. With a gentle touch, you smooth down his disheveled hair and wipe away the remnants of your arousal from his skin.

The two of you sit there, catching your breath, exchanging fucked-out smiles. But just as the moment settles, a sharp knock at the door shatters the quiet.

"Dr. Y/N, may I come in?"

Your eyes meet Mingyu's, and the two of you share a mischievous grin. In a flash, he ducks back under the desk, and you quickly smooth out your skirt, scooting your chair closer to the desk.

"Come in," you call out, your voice steady despite the smirk playing on your lips. As the door opens, you feel Mingyu's lips already trailing kisses along your leg, and you can’t help but grin.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @cherrybb96

[writeriguess]

Can you write a katsuki x female reader where she walks into katsuki masturbating on her picture. Because he has a crush on her.

The Act

You had no idea what you were about to walk into.

You had knocked twice—once, twice—just like always before entering Bakugo’s dorm room, but this time, he hadn’t shouted his usual “What?!” or “The hell do you want?” back at you. Weird. Katsuki was never the type to ignore knocks. If anything, he was usually quick to bark at whoever disturbed him.

So, naturally, you assumed he wasn’t inside.

And naturally, you made a mistake.

You pushed the door open, stepping inside, only to freeze in place at the sight before you.

Katsuki was sprawled out on his bed, legs spread, sweatpants pushed down just enough to reveal his hand wrapped around his cock. His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as deep, heavy breaths left his mouth. But what made your stomach twist and your heart pound violently against your ribcage—was the picture he was holding in his free hand.

Your picture.

A Polaroid from a few days ago when Mina had forced you into a cute pose during a game night. You remembered rolling your eyes at her, laughing, completely unaware that Bakugo had kept that picture. And now…

Your breath hitched.

The second Katsuki noticed the shift in air, his red eyes snapped open. The moment his gaze locked onto yours, everything stopped.

Time slowed.

His brain short-circuited.

“…Oh, fuck.”

His entire body went stiff. His grip on himself loosened as panic overtook his expression. His face, already red from exertion, somehow darkened into a deep crimson.

You were still standing there, mouth parted, eyes flickering between his face and the picture—his damn hand still barely gripping his length.

“Shit—get the fuck out!” he roared, scrambling to cover himself, the picture slipping from his grasp onto the bed.

You should move. You should leave. You should do something.

But you couldn’t.

Because this meant—

“You…” Your voice came out shakier than you wanted. “You…like me?”

Katsuki looked like he wanted to kill himself right there. His hand shot out to snatch the picture, shoving it under his pillow as if that would erase what just happened. “Fuckin’—goddamn it—” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just get out.”

You didn’t. Instead, you took a hesitant step forward. “Katsuki…”

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse. “Don’t say my name like that right now.”

Your stomach flipped.

You knew Bakugo. You knew him well enough to understand that this wasn’t just some horny moment he got caught in. This wasn’t about lust—at least, not just that. He wouldn’t be this mortified if it wasn’t deeper than that.

“You idiot,” you whispered, heart hammering. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He exhaled sharply, fingers digging into his sheets, still refusing to look at you. “Because it’s fuckin’ embarrassing, alright? I didn’t want you to know—” He stopped, jaw clenching. “Didn’t wanna scare you off.”

Your lips parted slightly.

Katsuki Bakugo, the guy who never hesitated to say what was on his mind, the guy who had zero filter and always spoke his truth—was scared to confess to you?

That realization sent warmth flooding through your chest.

And then, because you were feeling bold—or maybe because you wanted to see just how far you could push him—you took another step closer.

“Would it really scare me off,” you murmured, tilting your head, “if I liked you too?”

His eyes snapped open.

Shock flickered through his face before something darker took over.

“…You’re shitting me.” His voice was low, dangerous.

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

A tense silence stretched between you two. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find any hint of a lie. But all he found was the truth.

His fingers twitched.

“…Then get over here.”

And just like that, the air turned thick.

Would you obey? Or would you tease him just a little more?

Your heart pounded.

Katsuki’s grip on your wrist was firm—almost bruising—as he yanked you forward, pulling you onto his lap before you could even think to resist. His breath was ragged, hot against your skin, and his hands wasted no time, gripping your hips tight enough to leave marks.

“You don’t get to say shit like that and not fuckin’ mean it,” he growled, voice thick with frustration and something darker—something desperate. “So if you’re playin’ with me, you better get the fuck out now.”

But you weren’t.

You weren’t playing.

You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “I’m not,” you whispered, looking him straight in the eye. “I meant it.”

Something in him snapped.

With a rough exhale, his hands slid up, gripping the back of your neck as he crashed his lips against yours. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, pure hunger consuming him as if he’d been holding himself back for too damn long.

You gasped against his mouth, and that sound—fuck, that sound—made him lose what little restraint he had left.

His hands found the hem of your skirt, hiking it up impatiently, fingers digging into your bare thighs before pushing between them, spreading you open.

“Katsuki—”

“Shut up,” he groaned, voice strained as his fingers found the damp fabric of your panties. “Fuckin’—look at you,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to yours as his fingers traced the wet spot. “You like this, huh? Catchin’ me like that? Knowin’ I’ve been thinkin’ about you every damn night?”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t deny it. You nodded, lips parted as you struggled to breathe.

His jaw clenched, pupils blown wide as he pushed your panties aside with two fingers. The sudden rush of cool air against your slick folds made you shiver.

“Shit,” he hissed, running his fingers along your slit, feeling just how wet you were for him. His head fell back against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping open, locking onto you with a look that made your stomach flip. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

Your thighs clenched around his hand instinctively, but his free hand gripped your hip hard, keeping you spread for him.

“Nuh-uh,” he muttered darkly, voice rough. “Lemme feel you.”

And then, without warning, he pushed two fingers inside you.

A broken moan left your lips, back arching as his thick fingers stretched you open. He groaned at the feeling, at how warm and tight you were around him, at the way your body reacted so perfectly to his touch.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, curling his fingers just right, watching your face contort in pleasure. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn good.”

You were panting, gripping his shoulders for support as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, each thrust rough and desperate, as if he needed to memorize the way you felt around him.

And when he pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing harsh circles, your whole body jerked in his grasp.

“Gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he muttered, lips brushing against your jaw, trailing down to your neck where he nipped at your skin. “Then I’m gonna fuck you so good you won’t ever think about another damn guy again.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted, like he was ready to ruin you completely—sent you tumbling over the edge.

Your orgasm hit hard, your walls pulsing around his fingers as a choked moan ripped from your throat. Katsuki cursed under his breath, watching you fall apart for him, feeling your arousal coat his hand.

“Good girl,” he murmured, slowing his movements as he helped you ride out your high. “That’s it. Fuckin’ perfect.”

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Because the second you caught your breath, he was already undoing his sweats, freeing his cock from his boxers, and positioning you over him.

“You ready for me?” he asked, voice thick with need, rubbing his tip against your still-sensitive entrance.

And with a shaky breath, you nodded.

“Yes.”

His grip on your hips tightened.

And then he slammed you down onto his cock.

Your head fell back with a sharp gasp as Katsuki stretched you open, bottoming out in one deep, unforgiving thrust. The sheer size of him sent a shudder through your body, your nails clawing at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“Fuck,” he growled, his head dropping against your shoulder, breath hot and ragged. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you still as he throbbed inside you, struggling to keep himself from fucking up into you like a madman. “You’re so—shit, you’re tight.”

You whimpered, thighs trembling on either side of his as your walls fluttered around him, trying to adjust to the stretch.

Katsuki sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body tensed. “Don’t do that.”

“D-Do what?” you managed to stammer.

His hands slid down to your ass, gripping the flesh roughly. “Squeezin’ me like that,” he gritted out, voice thick with restraint. “Or I’ll fuckin’ lose it.”

You bit your lip, loving the way his body was trembling beneath you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. His self-control was hanging by a thread, and you could snap it so easily.

So you rolled your hips.

Katsuki let out a guttural moan, head snapping up, eyes burning with something wild. His grip on you tightened—then, without warning, he lifted you up only to slam you back down onto his cock.

A cry tore from your lips, but he didn’t give you a second to adjust.

“Fuckin’ minx,” he growled, setting a brutal pace, using his grip on your hips to bounce you on his cock. The lewd, wet sounds of your bodies colliding filled the air, mixing with his ragged curses and your breathless moans.

He was relentless. Desperate. Like he had been starving for this, for you.

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, watching the way you took him so perfectly, watching the way your body moved against him. His cock throbbed inside you, hitting that spot that made you cry out every time. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

Your legs were trembling, your body burning from the intensity of it all. He was everywhere—his hands gripping your hips, his mouth on your neck, his cock buried deep inside you.

“Katsuki—”

“I got you, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer for just a second before he slammed you down even harder, knocking the breath from your lungs. “I got you.”

The coil in your stomach was winding impossibly tight, your body overwhelmed by the pleasure. Your nails raked down his back, your moans turning high and needy.

Katsuki groaned at the feeling. “Shit—gonna cum, aren’t you?”

You nodded frantically, barely able to speak, barely able to think past the feeling of him wrecking you completely.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a messy kiss, swallowing your cries as he fucked you through the intensity of your orgasm.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, voice rough against your lips. “Wanna feel you fuckin’ fall apart on me.”

That was all it took.

Your vision blurred as pleasure crashed over you, your walls clenching around him as you came hard, your whole body shaking from the force of it.

Katsuki cursed loudly, his thrusts turning erratic.

“Fuck—fuck—” He gripped you tighter, holding you down as he buried himself deep, his cock twitching before spilling inside you with a rough groan. His body shuddered, fingers gripping your flesh almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you, breath hot against your neck.

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, the warmth of his body pressing against yours as you both tried to recover.

Then, Katsuki let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re fuckin’ mine now, got it?”

[andromeda-collective]

i have multiple and im going to mention all of them but im starting with THIS FUCKER HERE (blade from honkai star rail) AND I HAVE A VERY STUPID REASON FOR IT

there was an minigame thing with a character named march 7th (dont ask) and there were little events you could encounter throughout it and one of them was that you had to choose between a red and blue pill (or the third option of giving a nonanswer) and since my choice didnt matter at all i went with the red pill because i know that the matrix is a transfem allegory and i also hc march as transfem but then another character made a little comment that blade would ALSO pick the red pill which completely makes sense for his character but since i was still on the transfem allegory mindset i had the thought of "wait does this make blade transfem??" so shes transfem to me now 👍

estrogen would NOT save her. not even REMOTELY. he's a suicidal immortal who physically cannot die because of a ritual his old friend-with-romantic-implications tried who he now wants dead more than anything else. hes basically possessed by evil plants that revive him every time he dies and he goes fucking feral. hes a mass murderer with a bounty of over 8 billion. nothing can save him. but transitioning might make her miserable life slightly more manageable? plus i mean.. throwing your old name away and being a new person? obviously a metaphor for being trans /j

boothill! this is slightly for shipping reasons (turning a het ship wlw for funzies) but mostly projecting my gender-nonconforming transness onto the only southern disabled character i know of. are we different kinds of southern? yes. are we different kinds of disabled? also yes. do i care? absolutely not. (also because butch southern women make the world go round)

also sampo because the idea that this fuck is a cisgender ANYTHING is laughable. this is a nonbinary transfem boymoding for shits and giggles who randomly switches to the girl voice when talking to someone JUST to fuck with them because nobody else would believe them and the person would think theyre losing it. typical masked fool stuff. gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

and then from genshin impact: zhongli. who has CANONICALLY used shapeshifting to become a woman. and has likely done so on more than one occasion. this guy is CANONICALLY GENDERFLUID WHETHER PEOPLE LIKE IT OR NOT. and you can obviously be genderfluid and transfem at the same time so why the hell not :D

most other characters i hc as transfem i dont have much of a reason for, but im gonna list them anyways cause hell yeah

argenti (hsr) - she can have a little estrogen as a treat

dr. ratio (hsr) - no reason i just think it could work

sunday (hsr) - something something religious-trauma-and-giving-into-what-you-once-believed-to-be-sinful

diluc (genshin) - fanfiction on ao3 changed my brain chemistry

kazuha (genshin) - also no reason i just think it fits

sebastian solace (a game on roblox called pressure) - im gonna be honest with you op, i just like putting this fucker in situations. and i would love to see the struggle of medically transitioning when you've been forcibly had your body and dna altered to the point of no longer being human. even ignoring for a few seconds the thought that maybe hrt wouldnt have the same effect (or any effect at all) due to the experiments, how could you will yourself to alter yourself medically in any way after the horrific trauma you've experienced? its between fucking with your already fucked up body or having the dysphoria kill you from the inside out. i am rotating her in my mind even harder now.

p.ai.nter (from same game) on the other hand? a lot simpler. make the ai with guns a girl. also just a funny idea: you know that "put eyelashes on it to make it obvious that its a girl" thing? yeah. painter doing that.

^ TELL ME SHE WOULDNT.

i would apologize for the essay but you did say i was legally required to share so this is your fault /lh

anyways i hope you enjoyed the women

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[meo-eiru]

Day 2 of Character Trivia Night! Just a heads up, I already tagged it with the necessary tw warnings but I'll be mentioning self harm so proceed with caution

For tonight we have Elias

Elias has a mother and father, and is an only child

His father is an office worker and his mother is a stay at home mom

He occasionally talks to them when they call him but doesn't actively try to keep a close bond with them

He had short brown hair before meeting you but after doing so he decided to switch to a more flashy appearance to make up for his lack of personality

He doesn't have a favorite or least favorite food but follows a strict diet to have a body to your liking

He's not a morning person but forces himself to wake up early to spend 1 to 2 hours in the bathroom prettying himself up

Has had the same manager for years but still can't remember his name

He had a few stalkers growing up and was even poisoned once after you two started dating

He was more worried about appearing sickly in front of you than almost dying so when you tried entering his room to check up on him he cried

Talking with a man for more 10 minutes, being alone with one for more than 5 minutes, not returning his calls or messages within 1 minute, not looking at him once for more than half an hour when you two are together and not complimenting him at least 30 times during the day all counts as signs of cheating in his eyes

If you show attraction to another men, such as an idol or celebrity, he'll start mimicking their looks and behavior

He desperately wants to kill the people around you but last time he tried it he almost messed everything up so now he just pretends to be a victim and ruins them socially

He's not such a high ranking model because besides his good looks he lacks presence, but he does have a decent social media following

He doesn't post that often and when he does they are either just photos or a few words, it was enough to gather a small cult following though

He does have a private account he uses to vent, he usually uses it like a diary to write about you but when he gets distressed his posts turn very aggressive

He occasionally does self harm, he doesn't particularly enjoy the feeling but he loves the expression on your face when you see it

He usually uses it as a trick to manipulate you. Once he couldn't contact you for an hour so he just spammed you with pictures of a particularly deep wound and "I'm ending it since you apparently don't care about me" messages.

You had to run to his house only to find him lightheaded from blood loss, but he just greeted you with a smile and hug like his arm wasn't dripping blood

If you can't take it and try to break up with him he'll take it outside, start making a scene, gather a crowd and threaten to jump off until you take it back due to public pressure

He doesn't particularly care about the scars left during these outbursts since he views them as memories the two of you share but if someone else leaves a scar on him, even by accident, he'll have a breakdown and attack the person until someone pulls him back

His favorite dates are the ones where you two just laze around in bed the whole day, open a random show and have sex instead of actually watching it

He's mostly fine with you having your own hobbies and interests but if you seem to enjoy them a bit too much for his liking he'll start throwing tantrums to get you to do them less

He has two moles right above his butt, on the left

[gluttonousgoddess]

As a simple example, that 8 glasses of water thing was a lie spread by scientists that were partnered with Gatorade. Just drink when you're thirsty.

Diamonds and bacon are in a similar boat. People love them mostly because of advertisements. That's why diamonds cost so much, too! Now, granted, gems are pretty, and bacon tastes good, but the ads did more harm than good.

And cutting calories doesn't work because calories are just how much energy it takes to boil it in water, and your body runs to use whatever nutrients it can when it has a deficit. It's not uncommon for it to eat at your muscles and other soft tissues instead of fat. As ironic as it is for someone like me to say, the best diet for losing weight is a balanced one. Sugar is the main issue, btw, not fat. In fact, fat is healthy for you, gets turned into lipids which can be beneficial for brain health. Now that doesn't mean you should just eat fat, it's all about balance and moderation. Grease is in a similar vein, it's not quite the best for you but a bit here and there won't kill you. And frankly, a bit of a belly is good for humans, it protects the body from bludgeoning and slashing damage. Sure, it'll hurt like hell, but you're more likely to get a punctured innards or have them fall out if you are thin than if you have some fat blocking the way. The main danger is the oily fat that surrounds organs, not the kind that covers your body. External is fine, internal is dangerous.

Then there's the BRAT diet. While it is easier on your digestive system, it can actually make diarrhea WORSE because the food is so soft it leaves acid left over. Same with grapes and meal substitute drinks. Especially meal substitute drinks! Liquid diets in general do this, but these are the worst because you drink enough to fill your stomach, prompting it to generate acid...for something that is pretty much already digested...I think you see the problem.

Everyone knows cold helps with swelling. Problem is, swelling is important for recovery, and putting ice on it actually slows recovery down. You actually want to put warmth on it! You want more blood to the area, because it brings nutrients and cells that fight infections.

As well, everyone knows to use IcyHot, right? Wrong, the chemicals used to make that work, especially the stuff that directly puts it on your body like the rollers, actually damages your skin and can lead to skin cancer!

And then there's Red 40. A synthetic chemical that also gives cancer!

Everyone knows you have to cook meat. Problem is, the smoke and char that can cause leads to cancer too. Not the meat itself, though. And I still don't trust any meat that isn't well done. Way too risky. You do know there can be germs inside the meat, right?

Everyone knows vaping is supposed to be a safe alternative to smoking. Problem is, water vapor in the lungs can easily lead to mold and infections. And the nicotine is so concentrated it's actually worse than cigarettes!

And my personal favorite, everyone knows Pokemon Gen 1 was held together with duct tape and dreams, except the glitches actually occur due to them using things to make other things happen. For example, having the name "Old Man" show up is done by storing your name in the town Pokemon tables. Those get reset when you enter a new route. But the area by the islands are coded to be water tiles within the city in the English versions. Not an issue, just program an encounter table for them...oh, right, since it's an English oversight, there was never an intended table. Really the easy fix would have been to extend the routes to include those edges. But yea, the reality is that the games did so much with what they had that hiccups occur. Same with Gen 2, that's why you can get a Celebi by using Beat Up, same index number. Gen 3 they got enough space to not have to be bleeding edge, so their glitches are from things interacting in ways nobody expected, like Glitzer Popping.

So yea, there's nothing wrong with fact checking "common knowledge", because we learn new things all the time. Common knowledge could easily be lies, or misunderstandings, or assumptions.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Morning Sickness

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex in the past, pregnancy, etc.

Summary: Quinn is getting increasingly worried about you as you're sick every morning and every evening, you're adamant that you're fine. Turns out you're right in a way.

Notes: Thanks to the person who sent this idea in :)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It starts around a month after your honeymoon. Every single morning Quinn wakes to the sound of you throwing up and every single night he holds your hair back as you're sick over the toilet.

You pass it off as a bad stomach bug or anxiety, something different every time but Quinn doesn't believe you nor does he like what's happening. He's had many health scares with you; the chest infection that led to you being hospitalised after you nearly passed out at work being a prime example. As a result, he knows better than to assume that when you say you're fine, you're actually fine. Instead he sits with a heavy buzz of anxiety in his chest, a fear that something is seriously wrong but not knowing what and not knowing how best to convince you to get a check up and see the doctor about it. You’re stubborn to a fault. 

It's another one of those evenings where he's happily curled around in bed, blankets tucked in around both of you. You're in his arms, back to his chest, legs twisted together so that any movement jars the other, but you're so used to it at this point that sleeping apart is more difficult and less restful than navigating the tangled mass of limbs that the two of you become each night.

When you try to slip out of his arms he's awake like a shot, blinking through bleary eyes while you push his arms off you so that you can get up. Quinn lets you go, an instant release but he's quick to follow, footsteps padding on the carpet after you towards the bright light of the bathroom. Never once considering rolling over and going back to sleep.

"You okay, baby?" You're leaning over the sink, taking deep breaths, cheeks puffing out as you try your very best to not be sick again, nausea roiling through you. You’re so fed up of being sick, it’s become a routine that’s led to you being careful about what foods you eat in the morning and evening, learning what is the worst to throw up and what’s the least offensive thing to throw up.

All you can do is shake your head frantically before you're rushing to the toilet, knees hitting the floor with a loud thud as you lean over the toilet bowl to be sick. Quinn winces at the sound of your knees impacting tile and he's beside you in an instant, hands reaching for your hair to pull it back and out of your face so you don't have to worry about throwing up in your own hair.

"Oh, baby...just let it out..." A warm, free hand landing on your back, rubbing soothing circles as he feels the way your body jerks with each bout of sickness, your muscles contracting and relaxing each time. 

You’re crying, he can hear it, the way you whimper and whine because this is the worst and you’re fed up with being so violently sick…It only increases his worry because this has been going on for too long and it just doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

He stays beside you, holding your hair and rubbing your back until you’re no longer vomiting. When you stop, cheek resting against the toilet seat in exhaustion he’s up and reaching for a glass to fill with water for you.

“Here, baby, have some water…” You take a mouthful only to spit it out in the toilet in an attempt to get the taste of vomit from your mouth, before downing the whole glass. It doesn’t really help much.

“I hate this…” You groan out, feeling silly because it’s not even like you feel ill most of the time, you just keep getting these random bouts of sickness in the mornings and evenings. Quinn shouldn’t be as worried as you know he is…it’s probably all in your head, maybe you’ve created a Pavolvian response to the morning and night time where your body expects to be sick, so you are?

“I know, baby…” Quinn runs a hand over your hair, pushing a few strands out of your face and behind your ear, he’s gentle about it, long fingers gingerly caressing your skin like he’s worried you’ll break, “You need to visit a doctor, baby.”

“It’s probably nothing, Quinn…I’ve just eaten something or have some sort of bug or something…” You don’t want to go to the doctors, you’re certain this will blow over soon, that it’s nothing serious and you hate the idea of taking more time off for it even as your husband looks at you like you might be the most stubborn human being on earth. 

“For weeks?”

“Quinn…” You sigh out his name because you don’t want to argue, because you’re tired. All you want is to go back to bed, curl up in his arms and get what little sleep you can before you have to go to work in the morning.

He must see how tired you are because whatever fight he had seems to leave his body, shoulders slumping, head nodding to himself like he’s made a decision in his mind to put this down for the moment even if he wants to keep going, repeat himself until you give in.

“Okay…okay, let’s get you to bed at least…” He gives up arguing because you’re so tired and have to be up at 6am for work. It’s bad enough you're not feeling well, let alone that you have to still teach like this, adding exhaustion to the mix is just a bad idea. He’ll keep pushing until you go to the doctors, but right now? Right now he can see you're tired and sleep is probably better for you than arguing at 1am. 

Quinn helps you to your feet, your hands resting in his much larger ones while he pulls you up. He keeps both hands on your hips the whole time as the two of you waddle your way back to bed, there’s part of him that worries you might fall or faint on the way back to bed, hands firmly gripping you just in case. 

He curls around you once you're both back under the covers, almost protective like he’s trying to shield you from some unseen threat and you nestle back into him, resting your head on the arm underneath you. 

The early morning throw up session had you completely wiped hours later, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise that you felt dizzy as the day went on. Even more so because food was just not enticing you and you had skipped lunch when your sandwich made you feel queasy just looking at it. Each lesson felt harder and harder to teach and your last lesson of the day had your head reeling. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise with how dizzy you felt, how lightheaded you were, that you fainted completely in front of your students. Thankfully, you had felt it coming on, having lowered yourself to the ground mere seconds before it happened.

To give them their dues, your students who could have used that as an opportunity to cause a mess, do whatever they wanted and generally cause chaos, actually tried to help. They were so concerned for you that they got another member of staff to come help, David, your favourite trouble making hockey fan, put his rolled up Canucks hoodie underneath your head and Stacy checked you were still breathing. The fainting spell didn’t last long, within a minute or so you were back to consciousness and trying to sit up, staff and students trying to force you to lay back down. 

It’s Laura, the English teacher next door, who grabs your phone and calls your emergency contact, Quinn…even as you protest and tell her not to bother him, that you’re fine. All your protests go ignored by the forty year old, who had become something of a mentor and parental figure during your time at the school.

“Hi Quinn, sorry, it’s Laura from Y/N’s school?” You can’t quite tell what Quinn says on the other line, but you’re sure it’s along the lines of ‘what’s wrong?’ in a panicked tone because no one ever used your phone. You hate worrying him, he has so much on his shoulders already, so much weight there from the team, the season, his brothers…

“She’s fainted, do you think you could come get her? It’s the end of the school day anyway but I don’t think she should be driving home…thanks, Quinn.” 

You groan at her, tempted to tell her off for calling him against your wishes but you know she means well…you also know there’s absolutely no chance you’re getting away with avoiding the doctors now. In fact you wouldn’t be surprised if he drove you straight to the doctor's office after coming to get you…still, maybe you should see a doctor, what with throwing up all the time…and now fainting? 

Laura won’t even let you get up from your spot on the floor, packing your things away for you, getting your students to chill for the last 10 minutes of the day and waiting until Quinn arrives. You know she’s worried you’ll faint again, but it feels ridiculous, sitting on a cold, dirty classroom floor waiting for your husband to come get you.

“Hey, baby…” The way he stands in the doorway to your classroom when he finally arrives makes you want to cry. It’s like he’s scared you’re going to faint again, a sense of hesitancy and caution in his body language that you hate because Quinn is never like that around you. 

“Please don’t…don’t be scared of me, right now…” You feel like crying, wetness starting to fill your eyes and your voice coming out choked. You’re not even sure why you’re so emotional about him looking like that when Quinn’s always worried about you, it’s not a new development. He cares so he worries. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not scared of you…I’m worried, baby.” He’s crossing the space between you as quickly as possible, crouching down next to you with care, hands reaching for your face gently to rub his fingers across your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“I’m sorry…I don’t mean to be a bother…” Your eyes are so watery that Quinn’s face is a blurry mess, but even then you wouldn’t be able to mistake the serious set of his brow, the way his jaw clenches, how he always takes your concerns and worries seriously.

“Sweet girl, hey…you’re not a bother. You’re never a chore, okay? But I'm going to need you to accept that we need to go to the doctor's now, okay? I’ve already phoned them, they can see us in forty minutes.” You can’t really deny him, he’s been so patient with you, worried, but not pushing you to go to the doctors too much and you know he’s right…something’s not normal right now and you need to get checked out.

“Okay…” The smile he gives you is radiant, relief filled and bright like your answer is enough to make his day. It makes it worth it.

“Atta girl, right, let’s get you up off this floor, okay?” 

You nod at him, reaching for his outstretched hands and letting him grip yours tightly, your wedding rings gleaming and new under the fluorescence of the classroom lights. As Quinn stands he pulls you with him, helping you to your feet and holding you steady when you get a bit of a headrush from the sudden upright position.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, i’m good,” He doesn’t quite look like he believes you, “I promise, i’ll let you know if i’m not.”

He’s got an eye on you the entire way to his car, always watching in case you suddenly faint or trip or take a dive to the ground. You don’t, your dizzy spell has passed and now you just feel emotional and embarrassed about the whole thing. 

As is routine by now Quinn opens the car door for you and buckles your seatbelt, making sure it rests comfortably against you and isn’t digging into you at all. He goes a step further than normal though, reaching into the backseat to grab a blanket he keeps there for when you get cold, laying it over your lap and tucking it under your thighs like he’s worried you’ll get cold on the drive to the doctors. 

Quinn leans forward into the car, pressing a kiss to your forehead gently causing you to close your eyes, letting out a happy sigh. He lingers slightly, hand smoothing down some of your fly away hairs before he shuts the passenger side door and gets into the driver's seat. 

There’s a heavy silence that settles over the two of you while Quinn starts the drive to the doctor’s office. It’s a silence that screams that Quinn has things he wants to say, words he’s holding inside him right now and you wait patiently for him to break. 

It doesn’t take long, a few minutes pass before he’s watching you from the corner of his eye, “You need to start trusting me to handle knowing when something is wrong…” He sighs out at you, and you try not to cut him off, biting on your lip to force yourself to listen until he’s said what he needs to say. “I know you’re scared of being a burden and putting more stress on me, but, baby…I’m your husband. I need to know. I want to know. My job is to support you. I can’t do that if you’re not letting me in…” He reaches a hand across to squeeze your leg, an attempt to reassure you that he’s not mad, but that he wants you to trust him more and you get it…you do. You’ve been so reluctant to put any more stress on him, but here’s Quinn demanding that you do, telling you he wants to know when things aren’t quite right.

“I just…you have all this pressure on you and I don’t want to add to that.”

“Baby, the only stress you’re giving me is when you don’t let me help you…I need you to promise me you’re going to start relying on me more, please?” He can’t take it anymore. The way you try to hide how you’re doing, try to take all that onto yourself so that he doesn't get any of the pressure. You’re the only pressure he wants, fuck hockey, fuck the season, but he needs to know what’s wrong with you so he can fix it, so he can help you.

You reach for his hand on your leg, twisting your fingers in his and holding his hand tight, watching him glance at you out of the corner of his eye, focusing on the road for the most part. 

“I promise.” 

Quinn’s shoulders drop in relief, his need to support and protect you, to look after you already feeling better now that you’ve promised you’ll actually communicate with him properly. He loves you, but your fear of being a burden is his least favourite thing about you. He hates that people have made you feel like you have to minimise yourself, your problems. Hates that you’ve been trained to be so hyper independent and self reliant. 

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?”

You blink at the doctor like she’s insane because the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind that that was a possibility, that maybe you were pregnant.

“Uh, no…”

“Have you been using protection? Is it possible you’re pregnant?” You try to think back to your last period, late, try to think back to the last time Quinn and yourself had unprotected sex…your honeymoon. So over the moon, so giddy the two of you hadn’t really thought about it, forgoing the usual precautions because you were married now so it didn’t seem like such a big deal. 

You look at Quinn, the two of you sharing a look that says you’re both thinking back to your honeymoon, the two weeks of being absolutely feral for each other that you really didn’t think much about the consequences…well, you did, in a sense. Quinn had had a great time considering what you’d look like pregnant with his child, dirty talk filled with comments about getting you pregnant, but it had all been fantasies, silly in the moment dirty talk, neither of you had really considered (rather stupidly perhaps) that it might become a reality. You hadn’t thought…normally it wasn’t that easy for people and you’d always had concerns about fertility in your family in the past so why would it be that easy for you? 

“It’s…it’s possible.”

“Okay, I want you to go take this test and come back when you’re done. I think you might just be experiencing some really bad first trimester morning sickness.” You take the test offered to you, the little pee cup and pipette too, glad that she wasn’t expecting you to pee directly onto the stick…

“Do you want me to wait outside the door?” Quinn asks as you hesitantly get up, not really wanting to go alone, as silly as it was because all you were about to do was pee into a little cup and put some drops onto a pregnancy test, it wasn’t like you were going to do anything crazy. But, you’d never had to take a pregnancy test before, you’d never had to deal with the reality that you might be pregnant and even if it's with your literal husband it’s still kind of scary...

“Yes, please…” He’s reaching for your hand without any hesitation, guiding you out of the examination room and towards the toilets. 

You hesitate before entering, scared to find out the answer, unsure which you want to be true; that you’re pregnant or that there’s something else causing you to be sick and faint. You want kids, both of you have discussed it time and time again, but you always thought it would be planned, that the two of you would be actively trying when you got pregnant. 

“It’ll be okay, y’know? No matter what. If you’re not pregnant we’ll figure out what’s wrong and if you are? That’s a good thing, we wanted kids, baby.” Quinn can see you’re scared, the way you grip the test tighter, how you seem to stop breathing as you stare at the bathroom door. He’s trying to not get his hopes up, to temper some of the excitement he can feel because he really…fuck, he really hopes you’re pregnant, he’s so ready to be a dad, and it would be an added bonus to know you weren’t seriously ill, just dealing with the first trimester. 

“Yeah, just…wasn’t expecting it to potentially be this soon.”

“I know, baby, but it’ll be okay and mom’ll be over the moon.” You smile at the mention of Ellen, how excited she’ll be…heck Jack and Luke would be ecstatic to be uncles, suddenly things didn’t seem quite so scary when you considered the people around you, how supportive they would be.

“Yeah, she’ll probably scream down the phone…” If you’re pregnant goes unsaid but it’s there, the reality that maybe you’re both starting to get your hopes up for something that isn’t going to happen. 

“Okay…I can do this.”

“You’ve got this, baby…it’ll be okay,” He smiles at you one last time before you disappear into the bathroom.

Your hands shake the entire time you’re in there, completing the test and putting it on the side to wait. You pacing a hole into the floor, back and forth, back and forth as the time ticks down on your phone. In that time you start to get excited, nervous, but excited. The initial shock of potentially being pregnant disappearing in favour of thoughts about what it would be like to finally have your first child with Quinn…how he’d teach them to skate, how Luke and Jack would play with them at the lake house in the summer, how Ellen and Jim would be devoted grandparents, how you’d read them books every night and make your own Christmas traditions… Your nerves now centred on that possibility that you weren’t pregnant, that your hopes might be crushed.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look when the time was up, reaching for the door handle to Quinn pacing outside the door. His head shoots up the moment you open it.

“So?” Quinn looks so expectant, lips bitten and red from all his worrying, waiting for an answer. 

“I…I can’t look, can you check it for me?”

“Uh, yeah, course, baby.” You can tell he’s nervous too, but he steps inside the bathroom, locking it behind the two of you for privacy. You point to where the little, but no less life altering, test rests by the sink. 

You watch him walk over, watch the tension in his shoulders, how he looks at the little test, seems to read the marks, and then again, and again like he’s struggling to process it. You know the answer the moment his shoulders relax, the moment he turns to you with tears in his eyes and a wide smile, so wide across his face. He’s practically grinning, vibrant in the way he is after a won game or how he was at your wedding. The sort of vibrant that changes Quinn, his usually understated calmness wiped out in favour of pure unfiltered joy. 

“We’re…we’re having a baby…” Saying it feels unreal at first, that those two little lines can mean so much, that right now, in your tummy is your baby. The perfect mix of the two of you slowly growing into someone amazing, someone he’s so excited to meet. 

“Yeah?” You can feel your own excitement starting, hearing it is making it real, so fucking real. 

“Yeah, baby!” You’re crying, he’s crying, it’s a mess when you come together in a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around you and lifting you off the floor to spin you around. You’re both crying into each other when his mouth slants over yours for a kiss, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, the other resting gently over your throat.

It’s a kiss that feels monumental, deep and filled with love, so much love that the taste of the salt from your tears does nothing to deter either of you as you cling to each other. The scratch of Quinn’s beard, the silky smoothness of his hair in your fingers, the way you cling to each other, you’ve not felt that happy since your wedding day, since you both finally said I do. It feels like the world has shifted on its axis in the most spectacular of ways and all that worry, all that fear is gone, just like that. 

He’s so fucking relieved, that’s part of it. God, is he excited that you’re pregnant, that he’s going to be a dad, but part of the excitement is relief, that you’re okay, that you’re not seriously ill. You’re just pregnant, just dealing with morning sickness and all the changes associated with growing a baby. 

When you pull apart neither of you go very far, foreheads pressed together, noses nuzzling against each other. His hands still cradle you close to him, his breath warm against your lips.

“We’re going to be parents…you’re going to be a mom…” There’s something about him saying it that makes it feel more real because it feels almost out of body of an experience, to find out you're pregnant when you had no plans to be. 

“Yeah…you’re going to be a dad…”

“Fuck, I love you…” Quinn kisses you again, soft but lingering as a hand comes down to rest against your belly, no sign yet of the bundle of cells that’s growing into a baby, “and I love this little bean too,”

“I love you too, you’re going to be so great, they’re going to love you.”

“They’re going to love us.”

[moonstruckme]

Hello! I find myself unable to stop thinking about fae Sirius, so here's another drabble about him as sort of a continuation to the first :)

cw: brief, vague allusion to sex

fae!Sirius x whimsical!reader ♡ 745 words

You’re scanning the earth for small, white flowers when there’s a rustle in the bushes nearby. You turn, expecting the orange streak of a fox vanishing into the brush or a bird taking flight, but you see nothing. The forest is quieter today, as it has been for you lately. Stiller. The sort of place with secrets. 

You draw in a breath as arms snake around your middle, catching you in their snare. 

“Hello, my little naïf,” says a familiar voice, smooth and lovely as the rock in your pocket. “What are you doing wandering about by yourself?”

You turn in Sirius’ arms. He grins down at you, and you press your smiles together in a gentle kiss hello as your own arms wind around his middle. He likes spending a lot of time pressed close together like this; you didn’t know you’d enjoy it so much until you did. 

“I’m looking for chickweed,” you answer him. 

Sirius’ eyebrows raise. Like most of him, they’re beautiful, finely shaped things; you reach up to trace your finger underneath one. Sirius very dignifiedly does not preen over it. “You’re not looking for me?” 

You shake your head, though you both know it’s a lie. You’ve always enjoyed this particular forest, but you visit twice as often since you met him. You’re never not thinking about Sirius, finding things for him, wishing to see him. It’d be embarrassing if he weren’t the same. 

“I was looking for you,” you confide to appease him. 

He tuts softly, a smile curving one side of his mouth. Sirius loves when you’re plain about your feelings for him. He doesn't always return the courtesy, but that’s alright; you can tell that they’re there whether he does or not. He wouldn’t have given you his name otherwise. 

“And what have you brought for me today, lovely thing?” 

“Do I always need to bring you something?” you ask, teasing. “Am I not enough by myself? You never give me anything.” 

Sirius’ eyes flicker with amusement, because this too is a lie. Sirius has given you many, many things. He’s taught you how to listen to the moods of the wind and shown you how to entice butterflies to rest in your palm and brought you unimaginable pleasure one long afternoon by the creek. Not least of all, he’s given you his devotion, proven in a thousand tiny ways. 

You’re unable to conceal your smile as you reach into your pocket, pulling out the rock you picked up this morning. It’s oval, worn to perfect smoothness by the rushing waters of the river you found it near, and a grayish blue that reminds you of Sirius’ eyes (when they stay still for a while, that is). 

Sirius takes the rock from you, studying it. He rubs his thumb across the top. “This is pretty.” 

“It is,” you agree, basking in your own private pleasure. You think he’d still say the same thing even if he did know why you chose it for him, but you enjoy keeping this to yourself. Sirius’ eyes slide to yours like he can tell you’re keeping secrets, but he doesn’t push. 

“Not,” he says, “as pretty as you, however.” His hold tightens without warning, drawing a surprised giggle from you as your bodies come flush together. “You’re more than enough of a gift.” 

You hear the sincerity in his tone and repay it in kind, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I know.” 

Sirius’ eyes squint the way they tend to do when you particularly delight him. Just before he calls you strange or silly or my lovely little oddity. He doesn’t say any of those things now; only, “You won’t find chickweed around here, you know.” 

You frown. “If I knew, why would I be looking?” 

Sirius heaves a great sigh and presses his lips to your temple before loosening his hold on you. He guides you away from your little patch of bushes by your hand, moving with otherworldly grace. “There’s chickweed by the meadow. We’ll find it for you there. Do you use it for something?” 

You nod. “Pesto.” 

His brow furrows. 

“It’s food. I’ll bring some for you to try.” You give him a sweet look. “Thank you for showing me where to find it.” 

A low hum. “What would you do without me?” 

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll never have to find out.” 

“No,” he agrees, fingers winding between yours like vines, “you won’t.” 

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - Bathing/Showering Edition

Inspired by thinking about how cold Raffy's preferred baths must be as a Lemurian.

Featuring all lads (inc Caleb) and main MC.

Masterlist

Rafayel prefers baths, he'll shower if he's in a rush, but he'll mostly want to bathe. This normally involves him spending hours just lying in the bath (Sylus has made a lot of jokes about stewed fish).

Prefers his water ice cold, as a deep sea fishy it's most familiar and while he can use hot water it's not as comforting, and he'll normally only do that if he's sharing the bath or shower with someone else and doesn't want them catching hypothermia.

Has the greatest supply of bathing accessories and products you'll ever see in your life. Anything that's ethically created or not harmful to the environment.

Is still unsure on bath bombs, on one hand, very fun, on the other hand, he likes being submerged in the water and he CAN keep his eyes open and often does. Yes he's gotten the bath bomb stuff in his eyes cause he forgot, yes he complained for hours after and got spoiled to high heaven for it.

Is mostly likely to bathe with Sylus at normal temperature for him (ice cold) cause Sylus is unbothered by temperature changes, so does not require the added heat for it to be bearable. If the temperature of the bath is adjusted, he'll often bathe with MC or with Xavier (who uses it as an excuse to have a nap, because Raffy won't let him drown and he's terrible at bathing alone.)

Always smells delightful after his routines, and they take a while.

Zayne is typically a shower guy, because he's a busy man but cares about looking presentable a lot. His routine is next level organised. Showers are pretty average temperature, but do run a bit hotter especially after using his EVOL.

While he has been known to have a bath, he's more likely to do it with someone else, or if someone has forced him to take it slow and pamper himself or is doing the pampering for him.

Kind of a get in and get out, he has products he likes to use and sticks with those, unless another one is suggested to him and he takes a liking to it. Will take longer showers if he's sharing the shower with someone else, in that case he enjoys taking care of them, and it takes quite a while before he gets used to anyone else doing it for him.

He shares the shower most with Sylus out of anyone (though frankly Sylus showers the most out of everyone so he'll happily hop in with anyone), close second are Caleb and MC. Both of whom he will nudge so he can take care of them, old age childhood friend worries. They do return the favour.

Jasmine shampoo and citrus body wash is the way to go for this man, citrus shaving cream too. Smells like a dessert, though tends to tone it down for when he's working at the hospital cause there's enough strong scents around his patients.

Xavier cannot be left alone to bathe, more than once someone has checked on him in the bath and he's fallen asleep and has almost drowned. Now if he bathes they set timers, or someone will bathe with him. It's not his fault, poor man is exhausted and worn down between how often he spends hunting and his connection to a dying planet.

He's most likely to shower and similar to Zayne he gets in and gets out, but he's also raised a prince, he knows how to self care and groom himself so he always looks good and presentable. He is very fond of baths more than he is of showers, because of this he will bathe with Raffy often. Depending on how he's feeling someone will join him in the shower and help him take care of himself. Especially after a nightly stint as Lumiere.

Water temperature is pretty normal, fairly hot but not that hot. Because of this he's easy to share a shower with.

Prewarning if you wash his hair he will fall asleep even quicker, or get frisky.

He likes really simple scents, things that aren't too powerful just incase it messes with his work. Tends to go with soft florals, it's like lying in a field of flowers, but you can only really smell it up close. (Raffy, Sylus and MC have all buried their nose in his neck before now, and just fallen asleep there.)

Caleb is a busy man so in the farspace fleet, showers are quick, like incredibly quick and whatever he has time for he'll do. Due to this he's prefers bathing when he's not at work, more time, more space to relax (more likely to be able to have MC wrapped up in his arms in the warm water), and just generally a luxury he doesn't really get time for often. He'll still shower when he's in somewhat of a rush to do something, like if he has a date with any of the polycule and he's running a bit late, or just wants to be done quickly cause he's excited.

He's used to cold showers... for several reasons, but also because MC had a bad habit of losing track of time in the shower when they were younger, and used up all the hot water more than once. That said he's chill with cold showers (badum tsh) but he's actually good with any kind of temperature (farspace training means you get used to all kinds of situations, as does DAA training). If it's super hot, the pain of the heat makes his sensory feedback respond better, so he has joined Sylus and MC for the 'I'm scalding my skin off with boiling water' showers, just to get to touch them to his hearts content. (Pre-cybernetic fixing anyway)

Showers most with MC, Sylus and Zayne, bathes most with MC and Xavier.

For work all his stuff is non-scented, at home he'll use whatever he knows MC likes most, he has however tried chocolate-smelling stuff, but they're very hit or miss, also likes fruit smells, strawberry is a favourite.

Sylus loves showering, he will spend such a long time in them, not as long as Raffy spends in the bath, but it's real close. (You best believe he's spending a fortune on heating water in the polycules house, this man does not care.) Temperature is 'burn your skin off' hot, he's a dragon, while he's not bothered by temperature in general, the hotter it is the better. The amount of steam in the shower room after is frankly suffocating.

Has the second biggest collection of skin care and body care products, all his stuff is expensive, but he'll make sure everyone's favourite stuff is stocked regardless. (Very obsessed however with other people wearing his scents, and visa versa) This man luxuriates, his stuff smells like you'd expect a rich man to smell. Woody, spicy and earthy smells. Like you've walked into a fancy boutique, it is pleasant though. He's never overpowering (what happens when you've got an autistic partner), but he does like to smell nice so he can wrap his partners up in the smell by contact.

Enjoys sharing showers with everyone, will happily bathe with others too but prefers his showers, partially cause he's used to needing to be prepared but also because he just enjoys them. He does get handsy, like a lot, but it's not (always) sexually driven, he's just a very big fan of pampering others, and enjoys touching his partners.

Any shower with Sylus will take longer than you planned. (And he wants to have his hair dried and brushed after.)

MC is similar to Sylus for temperature, but not QUITE as hot, will still leave their skin raw though, and will also spend a fair bit of time in there. Doesn't really actively go out of their way to bathe, but will if someone wants them to join them (ill advised to let them and Xavier bathe together, both fall asleep). Also rarely shares showers with others, unless requested or they really need help cleaning up (or are feeling the need for physical comfort and care).

They prefer to just clean up, zone out for twenty to thirty minutes, and then leave, the routine is important, and is a destress method. Has a stool for the shower too, because taking a prosthetic in there is very ill advised and cleaning yourself one handed can be a real pain in the ass. Much easier for them to sit down sometimes.

Doesn't like strong smelling stuff, but does love tropical scents (coconut, pineapple, mango, passion fruit stuff, as long as it's not too artificial) but will otherwise happily use anyone else's stuff, because it's all been stress tested. (And sometimes they just wanna smell like their partners more)

If they do share a shower, they wanna give as much as they take, but all the guys absolutely have to bend down (or sit on the stool) to let them shampoo hair, they used to stand on the stool to do it. They slipped once, it made Zayne so stressed he put a no standing on the stool rule because they're too clumsy.

Has the most basic care routine because they're terrible at taking care of themselves and only really have started since realising HOW bad they were with the polycule. Is slowly adding self care routines as they find ones the like.

[liminal-librarian]

Super agree.

The thing is, a lot of pseudoscience is very close to a correct scientific fact but interprets it wrong or extends a rule of thumb beyond what is supported by the evidence.

So be merciful, but firmly on the side of the truth.

Flat Earth: Issac Asimov has a beautiful essay on this one but I'll paraphrase: If most people look out their window, they see rolling hills somewhat hidden by vegetation and/or water. (Because those are the places on earth most conducive to human life, also selection bias). But if you do a little research, keep careful track, and compile reports from other travellers, you realize that maybe the hills average out. Now what? If you do that leg work, you arrive at an unintuitive result: On average the earth is flat. This lets you correctly predict things like: the mountains, no matter how high, come back down on the other side, the sea floor comes back up on the other side, etc.

But once you extend it far enough, you find this theory making claims that are inaccurate, and the farther you take it the more inaccurate it is.

When we say that we have a better theory now, we don't mean that the flat earth theory is false, we mean that we've adjusted it slightly to make it more accurate, 0.008983 degrees per km to be exact, to imagine Earth as a sphere. (And additional even smaller adjustments to more closely approximate the real shape of the earth, an oblate sphereoid.)

No one quibbles about 0.008983 degrees per km in normal everyday life. But we very much do need to take it into account when planning journies many km long, and more so the faster we travel, or the harder it is to steer, like aeroplanes and spaceships.

Homeopathy is similar: Take a look at any medicine in your cabinet. In almost all of them the active ingredient is below 2%! (And remember that that tiny amount will further be dissolved and diluted throughout your whole body, or at least your whole bloodstream.) Most active ingredients target an internal distribution in the in parts per million/billion. Some active ingredients are considered most effective/safest at parts per trillion.

Why is it like that? Some of it is safety, other parts are psychology and ease of use. You don't want to just take the two drops of a full dose! The active ingredient might taste impossibly bad, be caustic at that concentration, or any number of other things that might prevent you from swallowing the whole dose. (Or take 3 drops by accident, or drop one on the floor and poison the cat.) Or worse, it tastes like nothing and people won't believe you that it is medicine, or figure out how easy it might be to poison people with it.

If you find/isolate/invent a new pharmacological/active ingredient, you don't just need to know the required treatment dose, you also need to find the correct delivery buffer(s) to dilute it with to make it safe to take without rendering it inert or inaccessible.

If you flunked out of pharmacy school without the full picture of all of that, or got hold of your mother's textbooks while in middle school one afternoon while you were sufficiently bored, you could easily misinterpret a discussion about finding effective buffers and safe dilutions to keep the patient from rejecting the active ingredient and invent homoeopathy from first principles. Or you might understand it correctly but fail to pass on the true goals of dilution to the second generation of your practitioners.

That said, if your active ingredient's correct dilution is measured in parts per trillion, you should not be handling that without a hazmat suit. Just like big pharma. (Oh, it's just daisies? Daisies which are universally considered to be non-toxic to humans and horses? Nope, you are selling weirdly themed bottled water.)

Comparatively, I have great respect for (at least one brand of) essential oil distributors, they are very clear: The effective dose is X drops, and the minimum carrier oil dilution (for the average person to not develop an allergic sensitivity) is Y per drop. And they don't sell carrier oils (you can just grab them from your local grocery store), so there is no financial incentive to them to get the dilution numbers wrong.

I understand that vaccines are proven to work and are a great advancement in our medicine, and also that homeopathic remedies don't work, but don't they work on the same principal? Why does one work and the other doesnt?

They do not work on the same principle.

I can see how vaccines look like a "like treats like" situation, but in homeopathy "like treats like" is a kind of magical thinking.

Let's take an example from Chicken Pox, a virus for which there is an effective vaccine and for which there is a common homeopathic treatment.

Chicken pox infects people once, and it is extremely rare to get a second case because once you have had it, your body forms persistent antibodies against the varicella-zoster virus. When I was a kid, they didn't have a vaccine for this, so kids mostly got chicken pox once and it ran around whole schools and that was it. It's a virus that is fairly minor in children, though it can cause dangerously high fevers. Adults who get chicken pox typically get much sicker than children who get it, and it can lead to permanent harms like infertility in adults who get it. Because it can be so dangerous, we don't want people to risk getting it, so we vaccinate.

The way the vaccine works is that it takes a weakened form of the virus and introduces that into the body of a person with a healthy immune system. The immune system responds and the person who got the vaccine may get some minor symptoms, like a headache or a slight fever, but it will be nowhere near as severe as getting actual chicken pox would be. Because the immune system was exposed to the virus and responded, it now has antibodies against the virus that recognize the virus and respond immediately before it can start replicating in the body. If a person who has either previously had chicken pox or who has been vaccinated against it is exposed to the chicken pox virus, their body uses those antibodies to react to the virus and protect against a systemic infection.

Are you familiar with Star Trek? It's kind of like the Borg. You can't use the same attack pattern against the Borg multiple times because if you do, they'll recognize the pattern and will be able to defend against it. The virus is the attacker, and your immune system is the Borg. It knows what it's looking for and won't let anything get through its defenses.

Homeopathic remedies don't seek to prevent illness or provoke an immune response, they seek to cancel out something that is happening in the body.

For chicken pox, which produces itchy red bumps, homeopaths use Rhus Tox - a dilution of poison ivy, a plant that causes itchy red bumps if you encounter it in nature. The Rhus Tox didn't cause the chicken pox, it's not given to prevent the virus, it's from a plant that is completely unrelated to the virus that happens to produce some of the same symptoms as the virus when you touch it.

They don't even think that the Rhus Tox will provoke an immune response from your body like actually touching poison ivy would, they're attempting to use an unrelated compound (that is so diluted that it isn't even present in the preparation) in place of your immune system to attack the itchy red bumps.

So I'm going to go over this in a few brief points:

Vaccines are preventative ONLY, they are not a treatment for illness or symptoms of an illness

Vaccines work by introducing your immune system to a partial, weakened, or dead virus so that your immune system can form antibodies against that virus and prevent that virus from replicating in your body when it is later exposed to a whole/strong/live virus.

Different vaccines have different levels of effectiveness and produce different lengths of immunity; this is for a number of reasons, but if you get a measles shot as a kid you may only ever need one booster, while you need a flu shot every year and a tetanus shot every decade. All of them work the same way, though: they show your immune system what a virus looks like so that your immune system can kill the virus.

That is why immune compromised people sometimes can't be vaccinated, or why vaccines don't work as well for them or may need higher doses or more boosters. Because they don't have a healthy immune system, weakened viruses like the ones in the chickenpox virus might be too strong for their immune system to fight, and even if it doesn't get them sick, their bodies may not be able to produce enough effective antibodies to protect them from the virus in the future. That's part of why it's important for as many people to be vaccinated as possible; the more people who are vaccinated, the harder it is for viruses to spread, and vulnerable people like immune compromised people or babies too young for vaccination won't be exposed to deadly viruses.

Homeopathy, on the other hand, aims to treat symptoms of an illness that a person is already experiencing.

Homeopathic treatments do not aim to provoke an immune response, they aim to cancel out a symptom with a cure.

Dilution is a very important part of homeopathy, with homeopaths claiming that the more diluted a preparation is the stronger it is. This is simply incorrect; I don't know how to make a more logical explanation of that, it is just wrong that less of a substance causes more of a response.

Homeopathy says "like treats like" and that may seem like using a vaccine with a weak virus to prevent infection from a strong virus, but their version of "like" is different - Rhus Tox (poison ivy) is supposed to be "like" chicken pox because both cause itching. Rhus tox is also supposed to treat PCOS, erectile dysfunction, uterine prolapse, sunken eyes, nausea, and backache. "Like" can have an extremely broad meaning in homeopathy, which should be cause for suspicion.

Here's a paper that compared the immune response of college students given homeopathic "vaccines" against a control group and against a group of students who were given standard medical vaccines. The control group and the homeopathic group both did not have an immune response in titer tests, while the vaccination group did have an immune response, demonstrating that they had protection from the vaccinated viruses. It's a pretty good demonstration both of how effective homeopathy is (not at all) as well as how to set up a fair and ethical study to look at the effectiveness of different kinds of treatments.