#man. i want to be healthy and not explode

[rorysanderson]

The feeling of Jack’s hand wrapped around both of them, mixed with the increasingly-erratic frotting, doesn’t leave much room for a coherent response from Rory. I want to make you come, Jack says, and he knows for a fact it won’t take much longer for him to get what he wants. His breath is coming out in half-pants, half-moans, every nerve-ending in his body alight with the kind of pleasure he hasn’t felt in years, now, and certainly not with the few one night stands he’s brought home with him before. Except this isn’t a one night stand, he tells himself as Jack finds him in another kiss, all tongue and teeth and heat. This can’t be a one night stand, not if he has any say in it. He wants to keep this, he thinks desperately, feeling his body start to stiffen in anticipation. He wants to keep Jack.

It’s with this and the feeling of the other man’s teeth sunk into his shoulder that he comes only a few seconds after Jack, groaning into his neck, mouthing uselessly at his sweat-soaked skin as his vision explodes in a mix of color and static. He loses track of what is up and what is down momentarily — the pulses of pleasure making their way through his veins like sharp, intense strikes of lightning. The orgasm works through him like a symphony, and he can’t help but collapse onto Jack entirely, panting heavily in an attempt to catch his breath, doing neither of them any favors with the mess of come now mingled between them.

He lays there for a second or two before rolling over to lay on his back beside Jack on the bed, eyes now glued to the ceiling. His chest is rising and falling unevenly, still, but once he manages to slow his heart rate to a moderately-healthy rhythm, he finds his breaths come more easily, as well. He glances over at Jack with a small grin — drops a quick kiss onto his shoulder before pushing himself off the bed and making his way out of the bedroom and toward the bathroom. Grabbing one of the hand towels from below the sink, he catches a glimpse of what he looks like in the mirror for a second — disheveled and wrecked and like a man reborn, truly — before making his way back into the bedroom and toward the bed.

Careful not to put too much of his weight on Jack, Rory straddles the other man’s lap with a small smirk before leaning down to meet his lips in a slow, languid kiss as he takes care to bring a hand between them and clean them both off, Rory exhaling sharply through the kiss every once in a while at how sensitive the skin of his cock is, still. When he’s done, he sets the hand towel aside and pulls back, searching Jack’s gaze for a second. “Stay, yeah?” he mutters, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We left the bar pretty early,” he teases. “I could make you dinner. We could have a proper chat, this time.” Another kiss, soft, gentle, with the skip of his heartbeat. “Maybe go again later,” he offers, brushing his nose along Jack’s jaw. “Then again in the morning.”

He knows it probably sounds — a bit desperate, really. But the sight of Jack in his bed like this, it settles something in his stomach he’s not sure he’s ready to examine. What he can admit, at least, is that Jack looks fucking irresistible splayed out over Rory’s sheets, and he thinks it’d be a shame, to have the other man leave so soon, when the prospect of waking up to the sight of him is so temptingly within reach.

You. I want all of you. The thought was all-consuming, maddening. Rory's murmured promise of anything went straight to his head. If he weren't filled with such frantic and unrestrained need, Jack could've laid there all night just looking at him. Curls dampened by sweat stuck loosely to his forehead and his pupils were blown, hypnotically dark in a way he could get lost in.

Jack wanted. Oh how he wanted. But what did he want? Too many possibilities, too little time. This could be his only chance and he couldn't risk wasting it. Coherent thought long out the window, he gave up on and and worked on instinct, reaching down between them. "I want- fuck. I want to make you come." Strong fingers wrapped around both their cocks, adding pressure to the increasingly frantic slide. With his other hand he reached up and pulled Rory's face back to his, capturing him in another explosive kiss. Sweat mingled, their bare chests pressed together as though they might melt into one. Jack's breath came out ragged between kisses. It felt so good he thought he might well come apart at the seams.

He could feel the orgasm building rapidly, his nerve endings alight with pleasure, and he gave up on holding back. His mouth moved down to Rory's shoulder, teeth sinking lightly into the firm skin there to the muffle the near-shout as he lost all control. Vision became nothingness, the world whited out completely, and he came hard, shaking.

➥ tagging @rorysanderson

[snailshipping]

who’s gonna be toxic with me but like as a joke

[running-in-the-dark]

and I'm having thoughts again

so I've been watching that John Larroquette interview that I reblogged on repeat for half an hour now and I'm just. man I am so very....... okay I'm trying not to say that I'm stupid anymore but god what else is there to say. it's making me feel like my brain just turns off and all there is is static and [insert very high frequency screaming sound].

like I would love to be able to have actual thoughts about this shit but I am not. I just love love love people who think about shit and face their issues and work on getting better. and talk about it. like it's just a thing that happened. because it is. it's not 'oh you did bad shit in your past so you're fucked forever now'. it's 'bad shit happened, I did bad things, I confronted it, I made different choices' and that's it. I just. man I'm feeling really emotional and am probably gonna have a good long cry about this now.

[lexicog]

400 points and i get samorsa and. lassi

OK New pinned post I am going to track & share my cleaning progress because I want to be healthy and not explode YAY

[ Updated 10/12 - 2:40 PM ]

[lostitinthelights]

being in love with an immortal would probably kill me

and i don't mean in the emotional sense

like yeah the thought of the person i love not aging while i do and them having to go on without me at some point would hurt terribly but i mean it in a way more direct sense

if you're immortal, of course you're gonna take more risks, put yourself in more danger because there is less at stake

and it is just human to want to level with your partner and their energy

what i'm trying to say is, if my partner was immortal and faced terribly destructive situations trying to safe the world i would want to be there to support them because i love them

and that would probably get me killed at some point

[badcountryofficial]

I'm so lucky I realized all I did after my first long term relationship and not like...multiple in

[sweetnans]

"You are pretty annoying"

"Did you just call me pretty?"

You are delusional if you think that your boyfriend Bakugo would ever hold his thoughts about you, even if they're bad.

You've been in this weird relationship for years where you yap his ear off, and he teases in return. Your friends find it amusing, actually.

Your relationship with him didn't begin in the best terms. In fact, he found you annoying and overly friendly for his liking.

You always found a way to enter in people's lives without being nosy, it wasn't the typical psychology complex when people try so hard to be involve in everyone's lives just because they need to find a solution to help themselves feel good. You genuinely cared about others, and these others found you easy to talk to.

Among other people, you were one of the most popular girls in UA. With your big smile and obnoxious laugh, Bakugo thought you were fake. Always laughing at shitty hair bad jokes, and cluelessly chatting with that monoma prick like he wasn't messing with you to rile you up (which apparently never worked)

One day, he saw you from afar and pretended to walk the other way to not run to your face.

"Hey, Bakugo!" You exclaimed running after him.

He cursed lowly, and his shoulders tensed a little bit.

"Hey"

He didn't want to talk to anyone. It wasn't personal this time.

"What's with that face? You look like Deku said something"

Your statement felt like you left your words hanging, like you were missing some important complement.

Something like...what?

"Huh? What do you mean?" He squinted his eyes at you, finally stopping in his tracks.

"I dunno," you shrugged, losing your characteristics smile. "You always put that face when Deku opens his mouth. It doesn't matter what he says. You always end up like that"

Deku, in fact, said something, but that wasn't the point. The main point was you reading him so well to the end that he'd never said anything to you, but you still knew what happened to him.

That day, he started paying attention to you, too, and he changed his mind about you being fake.

After months of getting to know each other, you two formed something very unique and cliché at the same time. The famous grumpy x sunshine thrope characterized by the angry pomeranian and the chatty girl that everyone liked. The unique part was Bakugo actually getting involved with someone else.

In the present, he still resents, but admires, the way you always develop in big groups, how every room seems to light up the moment you walk in, and of course, how you read him to perfection.

You two have been laying on his bed for the entire noon, and you've been trying for half an hour to make him talk about his friendship with Deku, now that he openly accepted that he is his friend, You've been pushing the man to tell you how he really feels about apologizing and getting him back after chasing him when Deku thought that it was for the best move away.

"For fucks sake, can you stop?" He tells you grabbing your hips and tickling the skin under your shirt.

"I'm just trying to coaxe you to tell me what you really feel. You know it's not healthy for your mind and body to keep your emotions bottled. You are a person, not a ticking bomb waiting to explode. " You try carresing his neck with your fingerpads.

He looks at you from his side of his bed, and his brows get knitted while his nose scrunch a little.

"What?" You ask at his demeanor.

"You are pretty annoying," he says with a gruff voice, moving one of his hands from your hip to the back of your head, entangling his fingers with your hair.

Your smile widens.

"Did you just call me pretty?"

Now you are showing your full smile, teeth, dimples, and all, the whole package. He can't help it. The butterflies erupt in the pit of his stomach, and the tip of his ears turns in a pink hue.

"Dumbass," he said, rolling his eyes and flicking your forehead.

God, getting to know you was the best that ever happened to him.

[itsatwinthing4]

Thank God someone said it. I keep reading all these bad takes on my guy O’Hara and it’s making me frustrated. 2099 isn’t a villain or this unredeemable monster. He is just a person who is at their all time low, he is in a dark place and is both physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted. But he can’t take a break, he can’t slow down or relax because he is under this all consuming pressure and responsibility (all be it self-imposed) to keep the multiverse ( and everyone in it) safe.

Now should he have done that stuff to Miles or said those awful things. No he shouldn’t. And he will have to apologize to Miles and work at building back that connection he broke/refused to make with Miles.

But I’m not going to sit here and pretend that nobody has had a bad/off day, where they did the wrong thing, or said the wrong thing that was hurtful. People say hurtful things when they are frustrated or stressed because they have a lot of emotions/feelings and they let it out in a not constructive or healthy way.

Now that’s not to say that’s ok or even acceptable, I just think it’s an understandable/relatable feeling or reaction.

I for one can’t wait to see Miguel in Beyond and see where his character goes. Is he going to double down or is he going to take a real good look at himself and everything around him and change. I hope he does because I believe him and Miles could make a great team. Along with the rest of the spider gang.

Isn't it so interesting that Miguel O'Hara's most prominent emotion outside of his soul crushing trauma is FRUSTRATION

Even in his first appearance in ITSV he says it. "It's really frustrating," he says. He says it again when chasing Miles when he has yet to grow as angry as he gets near the end.

He's FRUSTRATED. Everyone is FRUSTRATING. Why won't Miles LISTEN???? Even after he bared his deepest trauma, somehow Miles still won't LISTEN and this wouldn't have happened if Gwen didn't TELL HIM and BRING HIM THERE and now the multiverse is in danger because nobody LISTENED to him

And it's ON HIM for bringing Gwen on. For letting himself be ruled by his emotions again

What I'm saying is that there's very little in the actual film to characterise Miguel O'Hara as conniving or manipulative. He's clearly doing this difficult, nigh impossible task, he's convinced himself it's ALL on his shoulders and now a frustrating series of people NOT LISTENING to him could threaten EVERYTHING.

Miguel O'Hara isn't evil. He doesn't have plots or secret plans. He doesn't hate Miles Morales. He's FRUSTRATED and TRAUMATISED and SCARED and Miles is at the centre of that as the first anomaly he has on record and Miles becomes the target of all the things Miguel is FRUSTRATED about even if it isn't Miles' fault. Even if Miles was the victim of circumstance and not the progenitor of Miguel's misfortune.

It is so easy to see exactly who and what Miguel is when you see his FRUSTRATION and the reasons for it.

[walkinthrudaisies]

My Girl

dean winchester x fem!reader

2.2k | angst, fluff

summary: some people just don’t know when to quit, and when dean notices how uncomfortable you are with a local cop on a case, he can’t seem to hold in his anger.

there was no way this hunt could get any worse.

you, sam, and dean had only been in this small, connecticut town for two days, and everything had already gone to shit. the lead witness was no help, there was barely any evidence, and to top it all off, you had to see him.

max mcmillan, the person you wished to never see again. you knew him in high school, being a friend of a friend and running into him on rare occasions.

max seemed like a nice guy, his only flaw was he always harboured a weird liking towards you. it wasn’t something you’d deem stalkerish, just an observation that you had made over the years.

just your luck he was here now, working as one of the police officers on the case. you had politely smiled at him when you first saw him, but the second he realized who you were it was almost as though that keen liking he had towards you crawled back up.

he would always be around you. getting you coffee, trying to start up a conversation, and being way too close for your comfort. you could tell that dean had noticed this, and he seemed as though he was one more shoulder pat away from blowing a fuse.

dean could tell you were uncomfortable. he knew what you looked like when that chill of unease ran up your spine, and he knew how you were about physical touch.

you were never good with people touching you, even as a young child. if someone even grazed your hand you would unravel into a fit of tears, needing to be alone for the next couple of hours to calm yourself down.

no hugs, handshakes, hand holding, anything. you didn’t have a healthy relationship with physical affection as a child, for both of your parents were not really the perfect candidates for mom and dad of the year. but you lived with it, and dealt with your no physical contact for many years to come.

that was until dean winchester came into your life.

you had met the infamous winchesters when bobby asked them to assist you on a ghoul case two years back, and since then, you three have been inseparable.

from the start you liked dean. he had this charm and whit about him that just reeled you in, wanting to know more. didn’t help that he was absolutely gorgeous on top of it.

the boys almost instantly noticed your distaste for any physical touch. it was sam who saw you flinch when he went to go hug you after a tough case. since then, they have respected your wishes and didn’t bring up the matter unless you did first.

as you and dean got closer, he would constantly catch you reaching out but reeling back at the last minute. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he waited until you two officially started dating, making sure you were comfortable with him touching you.

you were, one hundred percent. dean winchester was the only person you’d allow to hug, touch, or even hold your hand. you were slowly warming up to sam, but any other person was completely off limits, and if dean noticed he’d be on their ass in a second.

so as he stood in this police precinct, a watchful eye on max as he leaned over your shoulder, practically breathing down your neck and making you tense immediately, dean wanted to beat into his face until he learned what personal space and boundaries were.

sam had noticed the man’s unwanted attention on you, but he also noticed the fury written on his brothers face and he wanted to defuse the situation as calmly as possible.

while they stood side by side, pretending to listen to some cop ramble on about a traffic cam that wasn’t even in importance to the case, sam angled his head and whispered over to dean. “if you stare at him any longer i think you might explode his head.”

the older winchester just huffed, redirecting his eyes so he can look at sam. “well if he doesn’t back up than i might just have to.” the words came out like a bullet coming out of a gun; followed by dean straining his head so he could keep an eye on your facial expressions.

“she can handle herself, dean. you don’t need to worry about her all the time.” sam was right. you were perfectly capable in handling yourself and dean knew that. he just had a nagging feeling that this guy wasn’t going to back off so easily.

you were on the verge of turning and clocking max in the face. his breath on your skin was making you uncomfortable and he was way too close for comfort.

“the suspect couldn’t have gone far since- Y/N?” you hadn’t even realized you had zoned out, too busy being focused on calming your breathing and not breaking down.

“i’m sorry,” you spoke, taking a step back from max and turning towards the door. “i’ll be back, i just need to get some fresh air.” you didn’t even wait for a response as you sprinted towards the glass double doors, pushing them open and heavily breathing in the cool air.

leaning against the solid brick of the station, you tried to stop a panic attack from coming on. slowing your breathing, calming your thoughts, and taking in the fresh air was helping you get back on track. that was until you heard his nagging voice again.

“there you are Y/N. i think you should come back inside, i think i’ve found something.” max had come and stood so close to you it was like he was trying to mesh the two of you together. you couldn’t take it anymore, taking a giant step back and reeling your hands out in front of you.

“max, i am so sorry but can you please give me some personal space?” he seemed taken aback by your words, halting in all movement he was planning on doing. you realized you could’ve been nicer but this had been going on for two days and you were sick and tired of acting like you were fine.

doing the complete opposite of what you had asked, max started to step closer to you. “what’s wrong, Y/N? did i do something?” it was like what you were saying was going in one ear and out the other, and you couldn’t grasp what the boy wasn’t picking up on

“max, please.” you breathed out, hoping he would understand and leave you alone. but he just came closer, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards his chest.

the air in your lungs escaped. you couldn’t breath and it was almost as if your skin was on fire. you tried to pull away but his grip was far too tight, fighting your attempt to get away from his touch. “cmon, Y/N let’s just go inside. work this out together.” he was dragging you now, attempting to get you to the precinct doors. but the fight you were putting up was straining any further moves he had planned.

feebly trying to push at his chest with your other hand, you felt tears sting your eyes, escaping and falling down your cheeks. “let me go max, please.” you could feel your brain shutting down, the notion of max not listening to a single word you were saying finally setting in.

you could feel your resolve start to slip when suddenly, you heard a faint shout in the distance. a loud “hey!” was heard over your racing heart before max was spun around and knocked to the ground.

dean was holding max up by his collar, fist landing repeated blows on his face. you could see sam and a couple other officers run outside as dean held max up like a rag doll, the latter not even being able to land any punches with how tight dean was holding him.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” dean’s words came out gritted through his teeth, sharp like a knife piercing max’s skin.

you didn’t know what to do. dean was in such a frenzy that trying to pull him away would just be stupid, and you were honestly enjoying watching max get his ass beat.

“dean!” sam yelled, finally reaching his brother and trying to pull him off the struggling man. the older winchester just wouldn’t budge, and it took sam and three other cops to fully detach him from max’s limp body.

you watched as sam attempted to pull dean’s arms behind him, the latter fighting his brother with such intense fervour you truly thought he was going to break free and go for another couple of punches on max’s face.

when sam was able to slightly calm dean down, the older winchester walked to max and got right in his face, staring at the other man with the deadliest look you have possibly ever seen from him. “if you even step one foot towards my girl, i’ll fucking break your legs. got it?” all max could do was slightly nod, slipping in and out of consciousness

the other police officers had gone inside to get medical attention and had now come out to see if max had sustained any proper injuries from dean’s beating. before any of them could even utter a word, dean had walked over to you and gently grabbed your hand, following sam as the younger winchester high tailed it to the impala.

the car ride back to the motel was silent, filled with a tense atmosphere that had you picking at your nails. dean was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, the wounds on his bloodied knuckles were widening more greatly. sam was just staring ahead, not saying a word. if you knew the boy though, you knew that inside he was stewing with a multitude of emotions.

when the impala stopped in front of the motel, you got out and went directly to the room. you noticed sam stop dean, not letting him walk into the room yet. the look on his face was passive, and you knew that sam had an earful waiting for dean to hear. so you just closed the door, listening to sam scold dean through the window.

all you could do was sit on your bed and stare silently at the wall. this is exactly what you would do as a kid, sit in silence trying to calm yourself down. you didn’t even hear the roar of the impala as sam drove off or dean come into the room. you only noticed when a soft, gentle hand was placed on your cheek, making you turn to look dean in the eyes.

“hey, baby, you okay?” all you could do was nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. dean just nodded, slightly brushing some hair out of your eyes as he smiled. “sam just went to grab some dinner. doesn’t look like we’ll be going back to the station tonight.” his sad attempt at a joke made you giggle slightly, warranting an even bigger smile on deans face.

“there she is.” he guided your head so it laid on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug. the feeling of your arms wrapping around his middle and squeezing him tightly had dean feeling calm, at ease after all that just happened.

what snapped you out of your comfort was the scene of deans knuckles; stained with blood and marred with cut skin and angry red wounds. you pulled back and studied his hand, allowing yourself to truly see what he’d done.

“oh dean,” you muttered. bringing his hand closer to your face to see how truly bad the cuts were. “we need to clean this up.”

with a reassuring squeeze of your hand, dean got off the bed and stood in front of you. watching as your eyes worriedly followed his frame, waiting to see what he was going to do.

cupping your face once more, dean smiled as he spoke. “don’t worry your pretty little head, sunshine. i’ll patch myself up. i will be right back.” with that he kissed your cheek and made his way to the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him as you moved to get into comfier clothes.

by the time dean was done, you were already in bed. half asleep as you were tired from how fast your brain was moving today. you listened as dean got out of his fbi suit, resorting to just sleeping in his boxers as he moved to get in bed next to you.

your body moved so you could put your head onto dean’s chest, finding comfort in how close the two of you were. his one hand moved to play with your hair as his other went to grab your own hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and lightly brushing them across your skin.

the last thing you remember before falling into a deep sleep was the feeling of dean’s hand in your hair and his soft voice soothing all your worries from earlier.

“i’ll always be here for you, sweetheart.”

[metranart]

hey, I know you probably busy and I’m sorry to bother you, but could you maybe make some headcanons of what hawks would do if y/n got pregnant?

You don't bother me at all, cutie. :) Here you have some cute little headcanons of our favorite birdie boy.

What Hawks would do if Y/N got pregnant? <3

Takami Keigo is not complicated, he wants as many chicks as he has fingers and toes, and he wants them all with YOU. 

You hadn’t thought about the subject but every time you’ve been at it … -it WAS unprotected. There was nothing to keep you from getting, round and heavy, with his child. And it wasn’t just once. Keigo could go for hours on end- he wouldn’t stop until he fucking collapsed on top of you, completely spent. “Sheesh, that-that was something else entirely, dove.” His smile bright enough to compete with the sun in the sky and win.

“If you get pregnant… I’ll be required to take care of you for the rest of our lives.” He shared all too proud of his deed, that look of adoration in his face, way too close to possessiveness. “—But one thing I swear, (Y/N). I’ll take care of EVERYTHING, you, them, us… All, you just watch me.” 

When the pregnancy test finally confirmed that his secret efforts had been fruitful, he nearly exploded with happiness, he carried you in his arms and your feet did not touch the ground again for the next forty minutes. 

“Dear god- you got even tighter.” Keigo’s voice sounded deeper, “So WET- my love, taking my time to preparing you first was more rewarding than I expected it’d be.” The lingering taste of you on his tongue nearly enough to get him off- “I’m LOVING this pregnant stage, don’cha?” 

The more your belly grew the more he glued to your side. All of the energy that in the past went into making the baby now goes into keeping you and his child happy and healthy. 

One morning, Keigo was looking at you with that unblinking, unreadable look of his, anxious you chewed at your lower lip before voice out your deeper doubts out loud. “I'm not a fan either-” his head cocks to the side, questioningly, and you suck in a nervous giggle, “-of my mom body.”

It would have been better if you slapped him, that would have been less offensive than what you just said. "I LOVE your mommy body, dove. I dream with your plump adorable tummy and all your mommy curves, all night long!" he stressed, ignoring your embarrassed giggles, in order to give a clear and firm statement, "... I'm even thinking about keeping you with that mommy body, all round and pretty and full of my chicks... how would that sound to you?" You shake your head, and he pouts playfully, your heart impossibly warm for him and his cute efforts which always work to make you feel better.

“Stop starin’.” You grumbled, cracking one eye open and staring at him, a tired grin ghosting your lips. “I can’t sleep with you watching me, Keigo.” The Hero grins, “Just checking that you were comfortable-” you shake your head, “For more than an hour?”

Keigo glanced downward at your stomach, a fond grin twisting the corner of his lips up as he imagined a little boy or girl, who looked everything like you- just with his last name, he asked for nothing else. The little one snuggled up in his arms as he read bedtime stories. He imagined teaching the child to ride a bike, to fly-… At this point, Keigo craved just for two things, domesticity and YOU… or just you, if it came to that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He growled for the thousand time, though his hands stayed gentle on your round belly. “I love everything about you. Your imperfections are so mouthwatering, (Y/N). My favorite parts.” He managed to sound reverent, like a man speaking of his Deity. He would kiss the ground your feet touch if you let him but sometimes you are so restrictive with him.

Having you in his arms has become his favorite part of finishing his patrol, that little extra weight you've gained is mesmerizing, he could adore you for hours, that's why since he met you, he leaves some feathers hidden in your apartment when he must leave, that way he can at least be close, even when he's far away.

"Don't think I don't know what you do, birdie." You whine playfully and he laughs, "how long have you known?" you snort through your mouth, "since we've known each other." Keigo snickers widely, you are definitely his person, no one else could stand how mushy and clingy he can be, more than you, his adorable and pregnant, dove.

🔞➡️ MHA X Reader NSFW ART

[bigification]

Gainers Roulette

It's a risky game played by men desperate enough to risk their bodies for a chance at a bigger life. Men come from far and wide to play a game of Gainer roulette, some come out strong and sexy, some aren't so lucky. Although the game isn't all luck, it has a way of punishing those it deems unworthy.

Six needles are loaded, four with a serum that increases muscle and testosterone in the body, and two with a serum that drastically increases age and fat in the body.

The first player is a young man who pulls up on a motorcycle. He learned how to ride a motorcycle so that he could join his dad's group, but now he just gets picked on for being young and skinny. Well regardless, him being skinny won't be a problem after this.

He takes the serum. Immediately his face starts to change. His young and smooth features become more ragged, his clean shaven face quickly grows thick black hairs giving him a bushy beard, and the hairs on his head fall out leaving him with a smooth bald head. At this point it's hard to tell if he's won or not. Aging and losing hair is a common sign of losing, but he did want to look older and tougher so it could be either.

Next his body started to rapidly grow. He grew taller and taller as his shoulders broadened and his chest grew two juicy pecs that burst out of his shirt. His flat stomach grew into a thick six pack with a small layer of fat covering them. His arms exploded with muscle, becoming large and defined. Hair started to grow all over his body, covering his chest, stomach, and arms, giving him a much tougher look.

Moving downward, his previously flat ass perked up and pressed firmly against his shorts. His legs thickened as a thick pelt of hair grew over them, and his feet grew a few sizes, busting out of his shoes. And finally, a large bulge formed in his tight shorts, just for good measure.

Looks like we have a winner. The man leaned against his motorcycle and looked down at his nearly naked body. He smiled before riding off.

Our next player arrives in a luxury car. These never go well, rich guys only have one thing money can't buy them, good looks. So they come here expecting to walk out strong and good looking, let's see how this goes.

An average looking guy in an expensive polo and a gold chain walk out of the car. Not exactly what I expected, but close enough. He appears to be on the phone, and he doesn't seem to be enjoying the phone call. He puts the caller on hold as he approaches and takes the shot without even saying a word to me.

The man's well kept hair quickly falls off his head as his facial features start to age. It's not looking good for him so far. His cheeks puff out as a couple of chins grow under his soft jawline.

His scrawny body bursts out of his expensive polo as his gut grows bigger and bigger. He is left with a big hairy beer gut hanging out of his ripped shirt. His chest soon follows, growing into a thick pair of man tits with cheap looking tattoos on them.

His arms and legs thicken with mostly fat as his hands become thick and pudgy. The man is left old, bald, and fat. This is what usually happens to the rich guys who come here. He resumes his phone call as if nothing happened before getting in his car and driving away.

The next player slowly walks up holding a cane. He is an elderly sheriff who had to quit his job due to his physical condition, but wants to work again.

The man takes the shot, and almost right away his back straightens as he grows taller. Most of the wrinkles on the man's skin disappear as his he grows a clean silver beard. His receded hairline grows back and his skin tans from a pale white to a healthy golden brown.

The man's chest perks up and his shoulders broaden, filling out his sheriff uniform. The fat in his stomach disappears, leaving his uniform hanging off of his pecs. His biceps tripled in size, filling with muscle until they were about to rip his sleeves. His ass perks up and his thighs thicken, filling out his pants.

The man stands tall, smiles and nods at me approvingly before leaving without a word.

Next player is a young man who pulls up on a bike. He says he's close to getting drafted into the football league of his dreams, but he just hasn't been able to put on the weight needed for his position. Well either way I'm sure he'll be beyond heavy enough.

He takes the shot and his body starts to fill out. His skinny arms grow large and strong and his flat chest plumps up into two defined pecs, bursting through his tiny shirt. His pudgy stomach tightens up into a barely visible six pack with a sizable layer of fat covering it.

His legs and his ass explode with muscle and fat, giving the young man the look of a superstar football player. The pressure in his shorts grows until they rip open in dramatic fashion, making his ass bounce as it's released. Finally his face fills out, matching the rest of his massive body.

It looks like we have another winner. He seems to come to after the transformation is complete, an embarrassed look takes over his face as he attempts to cover his dick with his hands. His hands are quite massive, but it would be futile to try to cover up the monster he's got packing down there.

I throw him a towel to cover up and he thanks me before biking off.

The next player is a middle aged man who shows up in a barely functioning mini van. He said he used to be an athlete but had to stop after a serious injury. Ever since he had his kids, he has gained a lot of weight and struggles to do any activities with his kids.

The man takes the shot, and similar to the sheriff from before, his back straightens as his height increases drastically. Within moments the small feeble man with a can has become a tall and imposing man. His height has made his shorts look like short shorts and his shirt look like a bra, exposing his hairy gut. This would not last long however, as the fat in his body rapidly started to drain. As it did, his body began to twitch as an immense amount of muscle started to grow in his body. His hulking gut became a rock hard six pack and his moobs became a juicy pair of pecs. The man's soft arms became solid and defined as his hands became thick and calloused. His legs became strong and sturdy, and his ass became round a perky instead of sagging like it did before.

The man's face slimmed down, making his double chin fade as a thick black beard grew over his face. His receding hairline also grew back a little bit, giving him a more youthful look. Finally, a thick pelt of hair grew all over the man's body. Though the transformation seemed very taxing on the man, and he ended up passing out.

He must have been 6"4 and at least 250 pounds, so dragging his body to a bed was no easy task. It didn't take long for him to wake up. He thanked me profusely before getting up and leaving in the minivan.

Our last player for today is a young man who shows up in a cop car. He approaches wearing a police uniform, he feels he is not being respected by the more senior police. He wants to be more intimidating and demand more respect, but something tells me that his co-workers aren't the only reason he wants to be more intimidating. Unfortunately for him, he has no idea that there is only one shot left and it is not a winner.

The man impatiently takes the shot. Almost immediately, the man's flat stomach distended outward into a beer belly. It grows and grows until rips through his police uniform, leaving him in a tight black undershirt. He is left with a thick ball gut that hangs out of his shirt. His once defined pecs grow into two soft man tits that lay on his gut. The fat in his chest has even forced his arms to lay further out from his body. Speaking of his arms, they plump up under a thick layer of fat, nearly ripping his sleeves in the process. Even his hands look fat, with fingers that look like stuffed sausages.

Lucky for the young man, his uniform pants seemed to be slightly too big for him, so they have enough room to store his new body. His ass explodes with fat, stretching his large pants to their limit. His thighs follow suit, filling his pants until they're about to burst.

Just when the transformation is about to end, it gets worse for the young man. His face becomes pudgier as a thick double chin forms on his neck. But as the fat filled his face, the stubble on his chin went from brown to white. The hair on his head followed suit, becoming a pale white colour as his hairline slightly receded. Wrinkles started to form on his face as he began to rapidly age. From his mid twenties, to forties, all the way to his sixties in mere moments. His body started to sag under its own weight as blemishes formed on his skin.

Police equipment was scattered across the floor as the man was left in a tiny black undershirt and pants that barely fit. He flexed, making his shirt ride up even more, and smiled as he looked at his body. It seems as though he is unaware of how different his body was mere moments ago. He chuckled and states that the station will have no choice but to respect a man of his stature, and besides, he's definitely old enough to get some seniority. He picks up his ripped uniform off the ground and comments that it must have shrunk in the wash and that he needs to get a new one. He thanks me before squeezing into his police car and driving off

[kelin-is-writing]

Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.

“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”

I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.

He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.

You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.

Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.

Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where’s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.

You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.

As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.

But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.

So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.

That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜

[fluentmoviequoter]

Truth Serum

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: While searching for an abducted child, you and Tim are abducted and injected with truth serum.

Warnings: fluff, angst, child abduction, drugging, Tim and reader make out while working

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “We got an anonymous tip about the AMBER alert. The caller said a car matching the alert description was parked outside the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena.”

“We’re responding,” Tim replies. “Why the arena?” he asks you.

“It wouldn’t be very busy this time of day. Stay low there until there’s a crowd tonight and disappear with them,” you hypothesize. “Or something happened, and they had to stop.”

Tim nods as he turns on the shop’s lights. He doesn’t want to alert the abductor that the police are coming, but he needs to get there fast. Once you find the car, you’re a step closer to recovering the kidnapped child. The AMBER alert is several hours old, and the longer it takes, the more your chances of finding the child healthy and alive diminish.

“Take the next left,” you tell Tim. “If we can get in the back way, they shouldn’t see us coming.”

Tim takes your advice without argument, which surprises you. Calls with kids are some of the hardest, but when you know one’s in danger, everything changes. Part of what makes Tim such a good cop is his ability to separate his emotions, but the moment you got the AMBER alert notification, he tightened his grip on the wheel and told dispatch to let you and him patrol for the car.

“There it is,” Tim murmurs as he stops behind a partial wall in the parking lot.

The silver sedan you’ve spent the morning hunting for waits in a parking spot as if it’s just a normal day. You can’t see signs of anyone in the car, and Tim opens his door quietly and steps out. As you open your door, you notice something under the sedan less than 100 yards from you.

“Tim, it’s a trap,” you say quickly.

He turns toward you and gestures for you to get back in the car, but the car explodes, and you’re slung back against the shop before you take another step. You reach toward Tim where he lays behind you, but a booted foot kicks your hand away.

“Time to serve and protect,” the man standing above you says.

He drops a wet rag on your face, and you lose consciousness before you realize it’s not water.

 “Hey, c’mon,” Tim whispers.

He jostles your wrist with his fingertips as he demands you talk to him. When you realize that he’s asking for a response, you squeeze your eyes closed and grunt. Tim takes it as enough of a sign that you’re still alive and stops talking.

“Where are we?” you ask, blinking slowly. “Are you tied up?”

“Welcome back,” Tim murmurs grumpily. “You don’t handle chloroform very well.”

“My bad,” you reply sarcastically. “Have they been back?”

“No.”

“How mad are you?”

Tim makes a sound that you take as a sign to stop talking. For someone so eager to hear your voice a moment ago, your questions changed his mind quickly. Behind you, metal scrapes as a door opens. You hear heavy footsteps and assume that it’s the man who knocked you out.

“Glad to see you’re both feeling better. Need those minds as sharp and clear as we can get them,” he says. “I’m George.”

“And I’m the man in yellow,” you reply under your breath.

“Cute,” George murmurs. “You’re just here to help. If you found the car, you know about the kid.”

“The kid you abducted?” Tim asks.

“Details, details… Either you start telling me what you know, or I beat it out of your friend here.”

Tim’s fingers press against your wrist as he flexes beneath his restraints. George laughs, and you turn your neck painfully in an attempt to see him.

“You’ll get a turn,” George promises when he notices your movement. “If neither of you is feeling talkative, perhaps you need some courage.”

George walks around Tim, and you track him as he stops before you. He’s larger than he seemed in the parking lot. As he smiles down at you, you relax. If he thinks you’re intimidated, he has you where he wants you.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” George asks.

“Your right boot is scuffed,” you answer. “Little saddle soap would buff it right out.”

George clenches his jaw as he reaches into his pocket. He withdraws a syringe, and your eyes widen as you push back against the chair you’re tied to. His smile grows as he reaches for your forearm.

“Don’t,” you demand. “Don’t touch me.”

Tim moves behind you, but there’s nothing he can do to help.

“Don’t worry, Officer Bradford,” George calls. “You’ll get a turn too.”

George slides the needle under your skin and looks directly into your eyes as he depresses the syringe. He pulls the used needle out and tosses it into the corner of the room. After he pats your arm, he returns to Tim’s side.

“What was that? What is it?” you demand, pulling against your restraints.

A bead of blood appears on the surface of the skin. Tim is likely being injected too, but you need to know what George is pumping into you.

“Back up,” Tim growls from behind you.

“Gladly,” George answers. “To answer your question, sodium thiopental. Enjoy the next few minutes of control.”

As the door slams behind George, you exclaim, “Truth serum?”

“It doesn’t work,” Tim says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But this idiot doesn’t know that.”

“And you want to pretend it does?” Tim questions. “For what?”

“He gets fed up and tells us what he knows… I hope.”

Tim hums and his fingers press against your skin. “Let’s try it.”

“Hello again,” George says as he returns.

“Hi,” you blurt out.

“So glad to hear some excitement. We’ll start easy. Why are you here?”

“Because we’re cops and someone said the AMBER alert car was here,” Tim answers.

“Oh, so grumpy does speak,” George muses happily. “In that case...”

George grabs the side of your chair and spins it quickly. You’re beside Tim now; his arm is pressed to yours and you can look at him without straining. The plan is working already.

“Glad you’re okay,” Tim tells you.

“Not the truth we’re looking for,” George interrupts. “Tell me, what do the police think?”

“Lots of things,” you answer. “You-“ you interrupt yourself off with a giggle – “you have to be more specific.”

“Where do they think the kid is?” George clarifies.

“With the bad guy,” Tim says. “The guy who drives the silver sedan… Did you steal it?”

“Do they have a name, a face? Who is the suspect?” George is getting agitated, exactly as you hoped.

“A face...” you repeat. You look toward Tim and say, “You… you have the prettiest face ever. I want to marry you.”

Tim takes the confession in stride, likely assuming that you’re still playing I’m high on sodium thiopental.

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had,” Tim replies, leaning toward you.

“Listen!” George demands. He places his hand over your jaw to direct your face toward his. “Where is the kid?”

“The kid?” you ask, your voice distorted by his grip on your face.

“Mmhmm. Where did they take him?”

George releases your face, and you stretch your jaw out as you turn toward Tim.

“Kids… Tim, I want to have your babies. You’d have pretty babies. And smart babies.”

Tim nods along, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes that you don’t recognize. He’s either playing up the truth serum bit, or something else is happening. George slaps the side of your face before he storms out of the room. You smile at Tim, despite the deepening hand print covering your jaw.

“Pretty and smart babies?” Tim asks.

“You weren’t giving me anything to work with,” you point out with a shrug.

“I like listening.”

“Well, it is truth serum,” you murmur.

When George returns, he shoves a picture in your face.

“My son, where did they take him?” he demands.

“Son?” you and Tim ask together.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see the picture. “George, listen, we can help. But you have to let us go.”

“Why would I do that? You people are the reason he’s gone!”

“George,” you repeat softly. “We know that the man who reported his abduction is really his stepfather, and half of the LAPD is looking for your son, but we don’t know where he is yet.”

“He never would’ve disappeared if you hadn’t taken him away from me!”

“Then let me help,” you implore.

George stares at you for a few seconds before he nods. He cuts your restraints and steps back as you stand. You pull Tim’s handcuffs from his belt as you move, just in case.

“Let’s go,” he commands.

You shake your head and point to Tim. “Both of us.”

“No,” George answers. “Help me and I’ll let you come back to get him later. We’re going.”

George grabs your arm and shoves you harshly toward the door. You could fight back, but without Tim to back you up, it would go poorly fast.

“Tim, I’ll be back,” you promise.

“Be careful,” he mouths silently.

You nod and hold his eyes until the door closes. As you follow George through the underground tunnel, you watch him closely.

“Dad!” someone yells deeper in the tunnel.

“George,” you say lowly. “What did you do?”

“He’s my son!” George bellows.

He turns toward you with your gun aimed at your chest. You raise your hands and maintain eye contact with him.

“This doesn’t end well for you,” you tell him. “What was the goal?”

“His stepdad is looking for him,” George explains. “I can’t lose my son again.”

“So… what?”

“You would bring him here, lure that monster here, and I would save my son!”

“George, it doesn’t work like that. You kill his stepdad, you injure me or my partner, and you go to prison. So that little boy in there still loses you. You’re stuck, George.”

“No!” he yells. “No, I have the gun and my son.”

“And when you have to run? You drag him with you?”

“I- we-“

“You didn’t think that far?” you guess. “You don’t get out of this, George. Not like this.”

“Dad!” his son yells again.

“He needs you right now. If you let me go, surrender, and return that little boy to his mother-“

“The court takes him again.”

“But you still get to see him. What’s better, George? Taking him from everything he loves or seeing him when it’s good for him?”

The gun falters in George’s hand, and when he begins to lower it, you surge forward. As your shoulder collides with his chest, you pull your gun from his grip. It fires into the tunnel as you wrestle George to the ground. The moment you push him to the concrete and secure your cuffs on him, George begins crying.

“Save the tears for your court date,” you respond. “Where’s my radio? My phone?”

George shakes his head, and you sigh in exasperation. You pull his shoulders to help him into a seated position against the concrete wall.

“Stay here,” you demand. George nods vehemently, and you ask, “Where’s your son?”

“Third door on the left,” he answers through sniffles.

You walk to the third door and open it carefully. The little boy runs to you and hugs your legs as he rambles about how his father took him from his mom’s house and won’t tell him anything.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you assure him. “Here, can you hold my handcuffs? I need someone to keep them ready until I come back.”

He nods and accepts the handcuffs. As he sits on the thin mattress behind him and toys with the mechanical lock, you return to the main tunnel. George doesn’t speak as you pass him, nor when you take the knife from his side.

You open the door to the room where Tim is waiting and step inside. He looks up quickly and blows out a large breath. His jaw tightens quickly, and you notice blood running down his left hand.

“George is in cuffs outside,” you say. You squat before Tim and begin cutting his restraints. “And his son is fine. Babysitting your cuffs at the moment.”

You set the knife aside and focus on gently freeing Tim's bloodied wrist, oblivious to how he watches you. His skin has been scraped raw from tugging against the rope to get out and get to you. He heard the gunshot and assumed the worst, then you came in like nothing happened.

The moment Tim is free, you stand and offer a hand to him. Tim knocks your hand out of the way as he stands. You begin to ask him if he’s okay, but his hands rise to your shoulders, his thumbs against the pillar of your neck. Before you finish the question, Tim presses himself closer to you and kisses you. You blink in surprise but melt into his affection quickly. As you slide your arms over his shoulder and move with Tim, you wonder how much of his action is adrenaline and if there’s anything in this that he means.

“Officer?” George’s son calls down the tunnel.

You step back and Tim drops his hands to your waist.

“That was…” you begin.

“Truth serum,” Tim finishes. “Let’s go.”

He brushes past you, trailing his right hand over your waist. Outside, he leads George out as you carry his son back into the sunlight. The young boy clings to you, and you comfort him as Tim uses the radio in the shop to alert dispatch and request backup.

“Where’s our stuff?” Tim asks George as he shoves him against the dented back door.

“Threw it in here,” George mumbles against the glass.

“He may be a kidnapper, but he’s no thief,” you murmur.

“You see those dents?” Tim asks lowly, so George’s son doesn’t hear. “Those were made when you tried to kill two cops. All of this for a little boy you’re never going to see again.”

George begins crying again, and Tim rolls his eyes as he looks away. Tim may be good at hiding his emotions on the job, but you know better than anyone that he still feels them and feels them deeply.

The first of many patrol cars pulls into the parking lot, and you nod at Tim before you’re pulled away in the hectic moments that follow your heroic recovery.

You knock on the door once, then pull your hands behind your back. Part of you expects that the door will remain closed, but Kojo barks as Tim opens the door.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back on your heels. “I- uh- I just wanted to thank you for everything today.”

“Come in,” Tim invites.

You walk past him, remembering what it felt like to have his hands on you and his lips against yours. As you turn back to Tim, he steps into your space.

“Was any of it true?” he asks.

“It’s called truth serum for a reason,” you whisper.

Tim fails to hide his smile as he says, “Then you think I have a pretty face?”

“The prettiest ever,” you agree.

“And you want to have my babies.”

“I’m pretty sure I said I wanted to get married first,” you point out happily.

Tim’s hands raise toward your face, but he stops when he sees the bruise along your jaw. You catch his left arm and kiss his bandage, the injury underneath caused by concern for you.

“I was going to say I love you,” you murmur. “But I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“It’s truth serum. I wanted to believe it all,” Tim answers.

“Then kiss me again,” you request softly.

Tim does exactly as you ask, takes your face gently between his hands, and kisses you. It’s just as shocking and enlivening as the first time, and you smile against his lips because it was true. It was all true.

[princesayumi4k]

NFSW: Red SFW: Blue

Tenya has always seemed stern until you both got together. Ever since, he is clingy, will let you wear his glasses for fun, shares everything with you - even his phone and clothes.

He always goes to you for any problems, even sexual ones. (If he isn't smart enough to solve them himself.)

He spoils you rotten.

One thing that is sort of toxic about Tenya is the fact that he will make you do your homework - and will only help you under certain conditions. One plus is that he will play with your hair and praise you while you do it though.

He doesn't follow any girls on social media except his family members!

Everyone teases you for dating him, but he's not bad at all as a person or as a boyfriend.

He is autistic and was diagnosed with tourette's as a child but refuses to believe he has them just because he has a few occasional tics. (He also has ADHD which will make him pace around often)

Speaking of "pace"...during sex, he prefers to go a bit fast, but will slow down if you need him to. He prefers mating press so he can hear you if you say a/the safe word or if you start crying.

I feel like Tenya is a switch, like, if he is mad he wants to be dominant or if he just wants to have sex normally he's a dom, but the second you start sucking him off he's a sub - and other times are when you volunteer or if he just feels "bad" and wants to be "punished"

He hates PDA, the only thing he will do is hold hands. And it's not because of you - it's because he knows that people see you much more attractive than him and he wants to keep an eye out to see if anyone else checks you out - if someone does he immediately notices and will either shoot them a rude glare or will get uncomfortable and start kissing you in front of them - just to make them jealous. Sometimes he will sneak to grab your ass while doing so.

He absolutely loves your ass, and (if your a female) he loves your tits. (Oh yeah, quick mention I think that Tenya would be pansexual...)

He doesn't know how you see yourself as ugly, ass soon as you start talking and about yourself he wants to explode. He usually says things along the lines as "How could you not like how you look when you're dating me?"

Tenya is insecure, especially because he thinks you're much more attractive than he will ever be.

Tenya doesn't "hate sex" but doesn't "love it" either. He does it to pleasure the both of you and also because he thinks it's important to do in a relationship as what he calls it, a "step up".

You could probably guess/assume this...but Tenya's diet is healthy for the most part so his seed is very swallow-able. His seed's taste can be most comparable to a salt cracker that you get from buffets - but that's just the faint taste, it kind of tastes like chocolate milk? - He's very scared to cum inside you (without protection + if you're a girl and he's hitting from the front) but he will do it if you insist. He can't last long though, which is kind of disappointing but his cum is warm, and will shoot up instead of just laying in a spot, may I add, Tenya loves watching it dribble out of you.

This man is a god at aftercare. He will take a few breaths after he cums, pull out, wait for a few seconds to see if it dribbles out of you and then slowly becomes flaccid, but he will lay beside you and hold you close. The first question he asks is if you're okay, then will ask if he did good. He even takes little notes in his mind to see what he can do better.

The best thing about sex with this man is that he researches a bit every now and then, he learns your sensitive spots and will pound into them. He doesn't mean to hurt you when he does though, he says "I love you" before he cums and will whisper "I'm sorry dear..." if he thinks he hurts you while pounding.

Now, I say pounding but I don't mean like a rough dom pounding senselessly, I mean right before he cums he goes extra fast and rough so he can cum faster.

One thing he hates is titjobs, it gives him not only an extra mess to clean but he takes much longer to cum and it doesn't feel the same. Not that he doesn't love your tits or your body at all - he just hates titjobs. He's a sucker for handjobs though.

One thing he will never do is let you interrupt his studies with sex, he loves you and enjoys sex with you...but no. Sex is important in a relationship, he thinks so - but he thinks education is important as well so if you ever get married with Tenya he can get a good job for you and spoil you more, along with provide a roof over (y)our head(s).

DICK SIZE? Tenya is 6.5 inches flaccid and a good 8-8.5 when erect. He's thicker than he is long, but he's good at sex no matter what.

[maroonsweetpea]

This may make some of my newer followers disgusted by me but I feel like this perspective should be addressed. I have had problems with hypersexuality since genuinely as long as I can remember. Like, I'm talking about six and seven years old. Before I even understood what was wrong with me. I'm not going to get into details because the truth is that the details that I have are blurry at best and any attempt I have ever made to uncover more has only led to panic attacks and alcohol relapses. At around 13 I discovered porn online. Not like I didn't know it existed, but, I had never interacted with that kind of content previously. I had a serious porn problem until I discovered radical feminism, honestly. It opened my eyes to what should have been in front of me. Things I knew deep down but wanted to forget because it's okay if I'm imagining it happening to horrible me, right?

And, I'm not talking about the most baseline forgivable. I mean hard kinks. I mean that I was self-destructive to the point that I begged my boyfriend to go farther than he seemed to want to at times. And I honestly wanted to die and for him to be the one to kill me. When I was being choked I feel like I was going to reach the gates of Heaven. That peace was nearing because death is the ultimate freedom. I was so masochistic. I was such an alcoholic, dealing with anorexia....what I have never been clinically diagnosed with but I could only describe as violent OCD. I thought I could control what terrified me by playing pretend. Needless to say it did not work and it did not help in any capacity. But, if you asked me back then I would have told you it did. And I would have mostly believed that.

I channeled all of these problems into sex. It was all I could think of. I masturbated CONSTANTLY. It's like I was on fire all the time. The online communities I lingered on and even some female friends irl to this day told me that it was completely fine and healthy to cope with these problems, especially the childhood....whatever with things like CNC. That it was just my old man that didn't do it correctly. I think about a lot of this almost daily and guilt isn't a good enough word to describe it. If there is a word beyond that or shame I don't know it, but, I feel it. At this point in my life my sexuality.....is almost a dead weight. A big part of me thinks I will never be cured, that my need for pain and my need for sex will trickle back the same and I'll explode.

I say all of this not for pity points, but because I think that fucked up women deserve to have a place here and for things like this to be discussed more openly. People can't be born pure and many people learn by terrible mistakes. Or maybe I'm the odd man out. Either way.

[amirasainz]

heyy !! I absolutely got HOOKED on baby!sainz reader and I'd like to ask you to write a fic about baby sainz when she's in a new relationship with an unproblematic celebrity (your choice) and the grid and the grid and her brother want them to break up by framing her boyfriend cus they think nobody is good enough for her. but she is actually happy and it's her first healthy relationship and when she finds out about what they did she is very upset with them and in the end Reyes scolds Carlos for ruining her relationship and tells him to go and fix it (ikkk its veryyy long ;] )

I'm back!!!! I changed this request a little bit but I hope you still like it.

Guys I got the notification that some request went lost on their way to me. Please, feel free to send me your request again, and I will writeit as soon as possible.

Enjoy reading and let me know if you have some whishes.

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!!

20-Step plan

When Amira Sainz and Timothée Chalamet officially announced their relationship, they didn’t just break the internet, but also the Formula 1 paddock. As usual in such situations, the drivers already had a 20-step plan. A few months ago, the drivers all prepared the plan, like some might prepare for an apocalypse. So when the perfect time arrived, the drivers set their plan into motion. Don’t get them wrong, of course they want Amira to be happy. However, in their eyes, no man was the one for Amira, even if Timothée was one of the most unproblematic actors in Hollywood. So after a “how-to-get-the-two-of-them-to-break-up-and-cheer-Amira-up-afterwards” meeting, the plan was set into motion.

Everything was going smoothly. They got to know Timothée when Amira and he visited the paddock in Canada. Then, they made sure that they spent more time around the couple. After some time, they took them partying, even going so far as only going with Timothée partying. They wanted to test his loyalty. They started little rumors about Timothée, talked with him about his exes in front of Amira, even making “innocent” assumptions about him and his co-workers. Even though nothing fazed the couple, the plan went smoothly. Until it didn’t.

“Carlos, I just feel wrong,” stated Charles. Lando, Carlos, George, Alex, and Oscar turned to their Monegasque friend after hearing his tone. Charles was deathly pale, his hands shaking. “Mate, are you okay?” asked George. “Yeah, you look horrible,” added Oscar. “Don’t worry Charles, you can help with the next step when we—” before Lando could finish his sentence, Charles exploded. “No. NO! No more us sabotaging your sister’s relationship. No more starting rumors. No more plan. I’m done with this.” Charles’ outburst made all his friends stare at him, shocked. “Guys, don’t you see how happy they are? How in love they are?” He looked at all of his friends who at least had the decency to look down. “Percival, we are just making sure that Amira is—” “No, Carlos. We are trying to ruin something that is beautiful. We all just want Amira to be happy and comfortable. And if she feels that way with Timothée by her side, then we just have to accept that.” After a moment, he continued: “If you guys want to continue, then fine. But every action has consequences.” With that, he left the room, making the other five share some looks with each other.

What they were unaware of was that Amira was standing in front of the door. She heard the whole “plan” they had and what their next step would be. Before one of the men could say anything, the door opened. They were met with Amira’s disappointed face, tears shining in her eyes. “Hermosa, what are you doing here?” asked Carlos. The moment he saw his sister, he stood up from his chair. “Carlos, what have you done? What have you all done? Why… why are you doing this to me?” Immediately, all of the drivers tried to defend themselves, while also trying to console Amira. “You know what? Save it. I don’t want to hear anything.” With that, she left the room, leaving the rest of the drivers speechless behind.

It took the drivers three months and a lot of apology gifts for Amira to forgive them. Timothée, who heard everything from his beautiful girlfriend, also convinced her to forgive the drivers after seeing how miserable they were. So after the three months, everything was like it used to be. Amira got treated like a princess and all of them are still in love with her.

Bonus (+)

When Carlos walked into the kitchen, he was met with the sight of his mother, one shoe in her hand. “Carlos, sit down,” Reyes ordered sternly. After a moment of hesitation, he sat down. “Amira told me what you did. I am more than disappointed in you, young man.” “But mamá—” “Did I say you could speak?” she rhetorically asked. After sensing he wasn’t going to say anything, she continued. “As punishment, I will take away your phone and you will sit in the chair in the corner, thinking about what you did wrong.” “Ay, mamá. I am nearly 30 years old. You can’t…” He fell quiet after seeing his mother slowly raising the shoe. “…But some self-reflecting will definitely do me some good,” he whispered, before slowly sitting down in the “I-behaved-bad” chair.