#heart junkie

[funkygroovejam]

Tis another doppler video. Tis not much different than the other, except that my heart is pumping faster, and I let you hear my aortic pulse. Incidentally, I can't figure out why sometimes, when I convert my video, the video image will be small, as opposed to the way it looks here, large. I had to try four times, doing the same thing, for it to be large this time, large as in full screen. Oh, and once again, merry stethmas.

***I just realized I can see my pulse, at my sternum, at the beginning. Hmmm, maybe I should do a vid focusing on it.***

[funkygroovejam]

OMG her heart is pumping soooo fast. Her breathing is almost as sexy as her heartbeat. Her mitral is very strong. If I could slip my hand under her breast, I would feel her little heart pumping extremely hard. I'm gonna go ahead and take off my shirt, and then press my chest to hers so that I can feel that little hammer of hers whacking against my chest.

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

You can't tell me she wasn't the cool babysitter for at least some time

[johnslittlespoon]

Tough And Sweet (Like You And Me)

Ch. 1/? – 'Sweet Taste Of Kerosene'

[WC: 9K | Gale Cleven/John Egan, College AU, The Bikeriders AU, Age Gap, Emotional Slowburn, But Fast Smut, Set in 2005ish]

College student John Egan ends up in an old pub on the other side of his small town, where he has a chance encounter with biker and mechanic Gale Cleven. Unconventional circumstances be damned, John is a lovesick fool.

[AO3 LINK]

[sweeetcheeese]

“You could’ve died the first time, I most certainly won’t take that chance twice!” Hiccup’s tone was stern, yet he still couldn’t quite help the tilt of his lips. Jack’s excited-puppy look was just too sweet to really reprimand.

Jack could only laugh, the joyful smile remaining on his adrenaline-flushed face.  “But I didn’t die, it’s just a little jump!” Jack grinned teasingly, arching a brow at Hiccup as he leaned in close to him as if to dare him.  “Don’t tell me you’re too chicken!” He giggled, blue eyes bright as he looked into Hiccup’s, their faces mere inches apart. 

Hiccup swallowed thickly as he looked down to Jack, taking in the wild look in his gorgeous blue eyes, the healthy flush of his cheeks, and his ruffled white hair, moving slightly in the breeze. His eyes darted to Jack’s pink lips for just a moment, before he caught himself, pulling back a little and narrowing his eyes at the teasing.

From our Lost in the Woods AU with my dearest @santathegrey (Jack took Hiccup’s dirt bike over a ledge and gave Hiccup a damn heart attack)

[funkygroovejam]

Listening to the heart beating is glorious, feeling it beating is even more glorious, but combining them via an ear to the chest transcends glory. The thought of feeling someone's heart pumping affects me so much deeper than the thought of listening to it. To feel her heart pumping against me is like OMFG!!!

Late night cardiophile thoughts

As I’m currently lying in bed, I’m just thinking about how my love language involves a lot of physical contact. For me, at least, I think it’s a beautiful way to express my love and affection for someone.  Not only that, but when it comes to heartbeats, I think it’s super romantic and intimate when you hug your significant other and you can feel their heart beating against your chest, or even if you put your hand on their chest to feel the thumps of their heart and they do the same to you as well. Things like that, are just something I could never get tired of. Then cuddling together in bed, having an ear placed on their chest to listen to the soft and soothing beating of their heart  as you get lost in the rhythm and let it lull you to sleep. Being together in that beautiful moment of intimacy is something very special to me.  Heartbeats are just beautiful, amazing, and sexy. Such a beautiful sound contained in that small organ, pumping life into our bodies.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[itsygjunkie]

CL's insta story 1312224

(these two are just too cute for me)

[amandamadeathing]

It's a scientific fact that racing needs to be paired with Motley Crüe's "Kickstart My Heart," thus I made this AMV edit to Tech riot racing in "Faster." Enjoy!

Is anyone else ever secretly upset the next episode after "Faster" is not titled "More Intense" or is it just me?

[funkygroovejam]

After my workout, since the mic was still sitting there, I figured I would record one more video. My heart is still pumping fast. Have fun with my heart. Do with it what you will. My house smells yummy, because I cooked the ribs today. Ain't no way I'd wanna deal with cooking ribs in the morning. Football sunday funday morning is for reheating, and very simple cooking. I made taters au gratin too, mmmmmmm.

[hyunsuksswife]

[jesse-pinko]

Lowkey depressing how many Breaking Bad aus I see that are just like “what if this character -hear me out- was nice to Jesse 😱😭” bc so few characters are actually nice to Jesse in canon and he was on the whole treated so inhumanly that we as an audience are almost as starved as he was to see him forge a tangible human connection that isn’t cut tragically short

[scarabies-real]

Don’t you just love the serotonin boost you get from watching the life leave a man’s eyes?

The McDonald’s employee handing him Grian’s McFlurry order:

[solrin]

I think I'm sick (romantic, swooning)

[deathoftheparty83]

[itsevanffs]

The club is musky, sweaty, humid in a way that makes Harry feel like he can’t breathe, but he moves through it anyway, relying on the lukewarm shitty beer in his plastic cup to keep him grounded. He keeps half an eye on it, the rest of his attention out on the room, looking for a place to sit and cool his head a bit before he goes back out to the dance floor and tries to find a man who can actually fucking /dance/.

It says a lot about a lay if they only move their arms on the dance floor. The last one was a younger guy and the subtlety of it was pretty much all lost on him, too concerned with his own pleasure to really think about the person attached to the hole he’s screwing. It’s fine - Harry won’t make that mistake again. It’d taken a miserable sort of wank after the idiot had collapsed on top of him for him to cum, and even then, far too long for Harry’s liking.

He frowns, pulling his upper lip into a displeased sort of scowl. Maybe he’ll be a bitch, just for tonight, and shack it on with his vibe. At least that thing knows how to please him.

He’s pulled - literally - out of his thoughts by a hand clamping like a vice around his sleeved wrist, attached to a muscled arm attached to a muscled torso revealed by a half undone shirt, the entire thing topped off with a handsome head and trousers too dark to see any outline of a dick in the annoying pink and cyan aesthetic lights.

The eyes turn him off, though; both ringed almost solid blue like the guy’s been beaten up enough in his lifetime to make the colour stick like a tattoo, red-tinged eyes and nostrils from a mixture of drugs Harry doesn’t even want to think about.

“Nice ass,” the man slurs, his grin dopey and revealing straight white teeth, and Harry remembers his ass is on display, covered only by three strips of fabric meeting in the space between his dimples with a metal heart. It’s a shame, because he’s Harry’s type, technically - strong looking, hygienic enough.

Well, save the drugs. Harry can smell them from here.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry drawls over the music, pulling his hand away - or, trying to. The man doesn’t budge an inch, grip tighter than Harry’s own on his cock. “You’re not getting shit unless you pay me. I don’t fuck with drugs.”

“How much?” is the instant reply, grin still in place. The free hand disappears into a pitch-black pocket and comes out with a shiny leather wallet, scaled. Harry doesn’t even want to know. The wallet opens, and the man shoves his thumb between two notes, the shiny one-hundred printed on it flashing in the light. The thumb retracts and moves, pressing down every new note. Counting, Harry realises. The fucker is counting hundred pound notes in front of his face.

“I’m not a fucking whore,” Harry hisses, leaning in close.

“Two thousand,” the man says, meeting Harry’s eyes again, face blank now. “I’ll give you it up front in the car. I’ve got the rest at my place.”

The rest. He’s fucking insane.

Still, that’s two months’ rent in one night and some to spare. Harry’s a trust fund baby but trust funds are limited; he won’t say no to extra cash, provided he’s given it in bills he can actually exchange.

“At least tell me you can actually fuck,” Harry sighs, glancing around them. “And give me it in fifties so I can spend it outside Oxford Street.”