#mindless posting or something idk

[johncraft2003]

[ohithankyou]

.

[arttsuka]

Do you watch any other Star Trek shows other than TOS? What's your favourite piece of Star Trek fanart you've ever done?

I've watched a big chunk of the animated series (honestly felt like a fever dream, I don't remember much. I should rewatch it). Other than that I've been in a constant state of 'I don't know where to watch it' and 'oh no I don't have free time'.

I also have that weird mindset that I can't watch other series if I don't watch tng first (which isn't true but whatever).

I've been meaning to give snw a chance but from what I've seen (all the spoilers I've searched up myself) I don't think I like it? Feels like they're doing that thing where Spock has no emotions except anger. Also (and again, that's a me problem) I prefer watching stuff that's already over. I don't like the wait between seasons, I like consuming everything in one go.

My favorite piece of star trek fanart I've done is something I haven't posted yet, so I guess I'll go with this, for the vibes.

This is pretty nice too

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images of things

[beeapocalypse]

AH i havent talked abt the frontierists here have i. very secretive sect of alamanni humans looking into Dreamed Realities (pocket realities born by dreams- the purposeful creation of them by eldritch deities Is possible but is also considered way blasphemous. near every dreamed reality by alamanni folk is born of essentially the most advanced form of maladaptive daydreaming possible and is unintentional. way hard to discern between them and real vivid Normal dreams). humanitys predecessors (taught the secret of intentionally dreaming up new lands by a select few eldritch beasties seeking refuge from the rest) sought refuge in a dreamed reality to get away from both the incessant typically deadly curiosity of the vast majority of eldritch deities and their incredibly shit living situation (forced into subterranean living bc of the whole corpse of the existence dragon and all of its curious parasites hanging up in the sky staring down at them, resources running low over the years with them unable to leave for more bc of the venettes- already sentient animals transformed into more human shapes by the eldritch in an attempt to get closer to that hidden race) and their shed mortal bodies upon successful exodus became the first humans so theyve got this tiny innate knack for intentional exploration that other alamanni folk dont. through the gathering of just abt every bit of still surviving texts on dreamed realities (WAY sparse, both thru the passage of time + the fact that those first eldritch deities desperate enough to part with such secrets were long killed by their more pious fellows), the frontierists understand the mechanics of it all Just enough to be able to deliberately enter and explore this 'final frontier' which they seek to put to page and Conquer

[lazyspeedy]

rory gilmore did a number of things “wrong” but taking a break from college was not one of them

[phenphoenix]

LUTE AND EMILY-

The gals, look at them go.

Lore tiiime

Alright, so Lute! Still fiercely loyal and a bit much- just not as sadistic anymore. Now, here's the fun part, she's still kinda an exorcist. Just now, instead of being under Adam, she's under Sera and Emily. And is in charge of keeping Adam distracted as well as the rest of hevan.

Decided to kinda mess around with the whole exorcist army and split them into like two halves. One half stays up in hevan, creating this image of the exterminations as though they were just going down into hell to try and "save souls." The half that Emily leads, and Lute helps command. The other half is what we see in the show. The half vaggie took part of and Sera leads. Adam knows about this, and is even suspicious about the whole "saving souls" deal. But keeps a blind eye because he trusts Lute so much.

Emily! Still sickly sweet, but give that missing sadistic nature from Swap!Lute to her. She's not as intense as Cannon!Lute but still enjoys going down to kill sinners once a year. All the while looking cute and innocent the whole time. However, she doesn't fully know that she's just further damming them. Sera is the only one who really knows what they are doing. So, while Emily is still killing them, she's thinking that their souls are being set free to get reincarnated or something like that. (Which can also lead to her disbelief is redemption, and the whole "hell is forever")

Of course, this is all based on headcannons. I'm going off of an apparent post made in the past, where they said that "when a sinner is killed, they become a mindless part of hell. That's why there are so many eyes in the walls and why hell seems "alive."" Or sonthing along those lines. Idk if that is still cannon. Or if reincarnation is even a thing in this version of the afterlife. But for the sake of this AU, I say all of it is.

So, in a way, all 4 of the angels are kinda swapped and meshed together. But hey, this is my AU, and it's all for fun and games, so whatever, lmao.

MASTERPOST

[hatsbuckets]

Sunday Softies: Cuddle Edition!

My take on how cod mw (reboot) blorbos cuddle

*sighs, because ofc this didn't post when it was scheduled to.* also sorry not sorry but this one has all my fav little ships in it. I may do other characters next week. or a diff mix idk whatever I want oop

Price: Warm and solid, the kind of presence that makes the world feel smaller, quieter. He doesn’t pull someone in so much as he opens up—makes space, shifts just enough to let them settle against him. There’s no hesitation in the way his arm comes around a waist, the way his fingers smooth over a shoulder, slow and steady. He holds like a man who has carried weight before and never minded doing it again. His breathing deepens when he sleeps, chest rising and falling in a way that almost lulls, a slow rhythm that reassures. And in the morning, even before his eyes open, his hand lingers—fingertips brushing against skin, against fabric, as if to make sure no one has gone anywhere.

Gaz: Soft and instinctive, like he was made to be close. He doesn’t just hold��he pulls, tucks someone into his chest, arms wrapped easy and loose but always there. He’s the type to shift in sleep, to press closer without realizing, to run warm enough that the blankets are always kicked halfway off the bed. His hands move, even in the quiet, fingers brushing against the back of a neck, stroking slow lines over a forearm, just feeling. He sleeps deep, steady, and when he wakes, there’s always a slow, lazy hum, a sigh that sounds like contentment.

Ghost: A still sleeper, but when he holds, he holds tight. Not crushing, not overwhelming, just firm—a presence that doesn’t waver, that doesn’t let go. He doesn’t tangle himself up in anyone, doesn’t smother, but there’s a way his arm locks around a waist, a way his fingers stay even when he’s drifting. If it’s a rare, quiet night, he sleeps on his back, someone tucked against his side, an absentminded hand resting against the small of their back. Even in sleep, there’s purpose in the way he holds on, a silent kind of knowing. And if he wakes up before them, he doesn’t move—not yet. Just stays there, fingers tracing slow, idle shapes against skin. A certain mohawked sergeant is the exception. Soap gets everything. A full-body, limbs-entwined kind of hold, strong and certain, like he needs to know he’s there. And when Soap laughs and tries to wiggle free, Ghost only tightens his grip, murmurs a sleep-heavy “Stay, Johnny” like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Soap: A nester. Takes up space, spreads out, clings like it’s second nature. He’s all tangled limbs and absentminded shifts, burying his face into a shoulder, pressing against warmth like he’s charging up for the next day. If he starts as the big spoon, he always wakes up as the little one, pulled into whoever he’s with, grip slack but still there. His hands wander in sleep—not in any purposeful way, just in that mindless, familiar way, fingers splayed across ribs, an arm thrown over a stomach. He’s a soft weight, a solid, easy warmth, and once he’s got his spot, he’s not moving. Ghost is the only one who lets him get away with it. Let’s him burrow against his chest, let’s him tangle their legs together, let’s him press his freezing cold feet against his calves and only sighs about it. And in the morning, when Soap’s trying to sneak away? Ghost hooks an arm around his waist and pulls him back.

Farah: Light at first, distant in a way that’s habit, but there’s a slow softening when she lets herself relax. She doesn’t wrap herself around anyone, doesn’t cling, but she leans in—rests her forehead against a shoulder, tucks her fingers lightly beneath a sleeve, something gentle. When she sleeps, her grip is light, but her presence doesn’t fade. She’s there, quiet and steady, the kind of warmth that lingers even when morning comes. And when it’s Alex? Her fingers trace over his arm, absent and slow, mapping old scars with a touch so careful it’s almost reverent. He doesn’t say anything—just lets her. Just presses closer and smiles against her temple, quiet and warm and hers.

Alex: Loose, easy, like he was meant to do this. Never in a rush, never greedy, just comfortable. He sleeps on his back, an arm slung over someone’s shoulders, fingers trailing slow, lazy patterns against their skin until he drifts off. His breathing is deep, slow and even, the kind of thing that’s easy to match, easy to fall asleep to. He’s got weight to him, but it’s the good kind, the kind that makes everything feel safer. With Farah, he’s different. Softer still. Likes it when she tucks herself into his side, lets himself drift off with his nose buried in her hair, murmuring something inaudible against her skin. If she ever pulls away in sleep, his hand finds her again—thumb sweeping slow across her knuckles, something small.

Laswell: Intentional, never careless, never absent. She’s not one for tangled limbs, not the type to crush or smother, but there’s a firmness to her embrace, a weight in the way she stays. She sleeps still, rarely shifting, rarely moving, just there, just constant. The only real sign of softness is in the way her fingers curl, lightly brushing against a wrist, against fabric, like a silent reminder.

Her wife is the opposite—moves too much, tangles their legs together, shifts and sighs and clings in sleep. Kate never minds. Just hums, tugs her closer without waking fully, and settles again.

Alejandro: All warmth and certainty. He doesn’t just hold—he envelops, wraps arms around a waist, presses close enough that there’s not an inch of space between him and whoever’s lucky enough to be there. His grip is strong, not tight but assured, like he knows exactly what he has and doesn’t plan on letting go. He’s big, broad, but somehow never overbearing—just solid, just safe. He sleeps deep, heavy, and doesn’t stir unless someone does. Then? His fingers flex, grip adjusting, pressing closer like an instinct. And if it’s Rudy shifting beside him, he just huffs a sleepy laugh, hooks an arm around him, and murmurs, "Quédate aquí, cariño,"—stay here, love—voice low, thick with sleep. Rudy doesn’t argue. Never does.

Rudy: Soft in a way that’s not obvious at first. He holds in quiet ways, never forceful, never imposing, just there. The kind of warmth that sneaks up on you, the kind of steadiness that feels like something unshakable. He prefers holding, rather than being held—arms wrapped slow and sure, a hand smoothing over a back, breath steady against hair. He doesn’t move much in sleep, but his grip lingers, fingertips brushing against skin in a way that feels unconscious. And in the morning, when Alejandro tries to untangle himself, Rudy only hums—just a quiet, knowing sound—and tightens his grip right back.

Nikolai: Heavy, weighty, the kind of presence that settles around someone like a thick, warm coat. He’s not restless, not clingy, but he makes it clear that once he’s in a comfortable position, he’s not moving. If someone shifts, he makes a small noise in the back of his throat, barely awake, grip adjusting, resettling against them. A slow inhale, a deep exhale, and then stillness. With the captain, it’s different. He stays awake longer, shifts just slightly to make sure Price is comfortable, presses a slow, deliberate kiss to the back of his shoulder before letting himself relax. And in the morning, before either of them need to be awake, Price reaches back without opening his eyes, fingers curling around Nikolai’s wrist.

Graves: (Claims he's not a cuddler. Liar.) Holds like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. An arm slung over a waist, a hand resting just light enough not to be overbearing. He’s not dramatic about it, doesn’t pull or take, just rests against warmth and lets it happen. Likes to lie on top, face buried in a chest, held and holding. And in sleep? He locks down. His fingers curl tighter, his grip firms, something instinctual, something deep.

Roach: Tucks himself in naturally, curls against warmth with a kind of easy comfort. Light but present, the kind of sleeper that doesn’t smother but doesn’t let go either. He breathes slow and even, lets the weight of another person press against him without shifting away. If his fingers twitch in sleep, if they flex against fabric, it’s not conscious—it’s just the way his body remembers touch.

Valeria: Possessive, but not clingy. She doesn’t grab, doesn’t cling—she just presses close and expects someone to stay. One hand resting firm on a stomach, the other tucked beneath her head, fingers occasionally shifting like she’s checking. If she moves in sleep, she adjusts, keeps hold without gripping too tightly. And if someone pulls away, she notices.

Makarov: Still. A grip that doesn’t waver, doesn’t shift, fingers curled against fabric with a kind of eerie steadiness. There’s no desperation in it, no need—just something deliberate, something intentional. He doesn’t move much in sleep, doesn’t tangle, but his grip? It never really loosens.

[pleucas]

i got a few asks about my process :0 so yea i took some screenshots mid-process of my recent cliff-skk thing just for that

m gonna preface everything by saying that i did have a ref for the environment!! i avoid color dropping from the image and tracing cuz i do want to hone some digital skills. also saying i'm doing an "environment study" when i'm really just drawing skk makes me feel better abt myself

when i don't have a reference, i tend to do some thumbnail sketches in my sketchbook. here's some random stuff of past work, where i rawdogged everything:

but whatever, back to the cliff-skk. i'll also post a timelapse of it for easy ref, but detailed stuff is under the cut :)

first i did some rough sketches on an orangeish background (underpainting etiquette, i find it helps things feel brighter and keep a stable tone when choosing colors to lay on top), and I quickly lined skk :)

then I laid down some flats for the background, again really eyeballing the reference for hues. afterwards i thought it was a bit bright, and i wanted a more sepia/nostalgia feel to it, so i hue adjusted everything to something more uniform

then i lay down flats for skk + the ocean, which i both had to color adjust a lot (you might see that in the timelapse), and then i jump straight into rendering the background. when i render, i always prefer to do it over something lineless, so i turn the sketch layer off. i rarely do lineart for backgrounds.

i also used to render the characters first, but i've found that it's just not a great approach—especially for art where characters and background are interacting, knowing the hues and shades of the environment is crucial to effective rendering on the character that doesn't make them look out of place.

when i'm rendering, i really try to keep in mind tenants of contrast, perspective, form, and light/shadow. ex, stuff "closer" to us has more detail; the hill in the back is minimalist (in comparison); the shadows lean cool-green while the light leans gray-yellow. rake brushes really carried me here idk... my fav brushstyle forever

eventually i reach a point where i'm satisfied (or bored) with the background. for the last stages i usually have the subjects hidden so i can really perfect the details—but then for super duper final details, like the little leaf specks and grass strands, i unhid skk so the poppy details could work around skk. then i get to rendering the characters :)

i forgot to take ss of all the stages when i rendered skk, but here's something from... about the middle of the process? i tend to render characters with the lineart hidden as well, sometimes bringing it back just to clarify things, but ultimately i prefer to define things by form than by line. that's just me tho idk, idt it makes or breaks anything, just a preference

again rlly just thinking about cool/warm, reflective tones (the greenish shadow on chuuya's left inner leg, sky-gray blue on dazai's vest), really just slotting the subject into the environment. after i finish rendering the characters, i usually return to the background and add some stuff—in this one i defined the waves a bit and put some grass around skk

and yeah then we're done idk LOL. sometimes i run the file through camera raw (photoshop) to do some color adjustments—i find that my iPad displays colors super differently, usually making things a lot lighter than they are (u can see how dark the timelapse is...), so i find myself lightening my work a lot. i also sharpen and add noise as needed :)

i think my process has changed a lotttt even in this past year. it's kinda crazy!! it's always fun to do these and just reflect a bit on how i work. mostly just mindless insanity until it kinda works.

thanks for sending in an ask. and if u read all that, thanks to u too lolol

[ghostycritter]

Post Chatter Silence ☆

Context - Silence in between small talk is a happening that's gifted upon acquaintance upon acquaintance. Due to hesitation between topics similar to a sailboat with no wind— a boat with no motor is a raft. How would you and your 'acquaintance' handle the unspoken moment that is transitional silence?

Characters - Wolfgang Akire, Grace Madison, Ulysses Wilhelm, Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii

Warnings - none

A/N - Mb if Grace is OOC, I liked her writing better during chap 0 so i based it off that. Idk why... don't come @ me but chap 0 Grace on top!!!

Masterlist (✧) P:EG Masterlist

[🐑] Wolfgang Akire -

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

Chatter becomes a temporary solution towards lull. Even so, you attempted to initiate chit-chat with the Ultimate Lawyer. It feels reckless to construct such casual words in the presence of a very prestigious man. However, his soft spoken nature churned the mood to a sensual lightheartedness. Imbuing it with a warm and intimate stimuli that made you feel strange.

Butterflies — that's the scientific term to describe that tingling feeling in your gut when he'd respond to your little inquiries. Despite the guarantee of him having these types of discussions an uncountable amount of times— He made the current one you both reciprocated feel special.

His replies would always feel thoughtful. It was never generic or vague, the responses were made for *you*. His words were a gentle reminder that your sentences were invaluable. You wonder if everybody felt this way when he'd commence a conversation like this, or if this was something special.

The exchange dissolved into an unresolved mute. Just as you expected. Although, it didn't feel uncomfortable, definitely not the quiet you dread. In fact, the silence was welcoming. As though you shouldn't feel burdened by the lack of reaction, instead you should let go of the interaction.

The mute stretched between you both. Unbroken until Wolfgang glances back at you.

"You're pleasant to chat with, Ms/Mx/Mr [Surname]." His smooth voice is soft yet so determined.

A spark in his eyes spoke for himself, the glimmer told you what his words did not:

He'd love to talk again.

[🐰] Grace Madison -

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

Striking a chat with *the* Ultimate Golfer was a gamble. Disclose something mindless or uncultural you would get met with a verbal bash to the face. Yet, despite the topic being surrounded regarding the unbelievably difficult industry— you still got a marvelous chuckle having a chat with her.

It's challenging for you to commit a reply to Grace. She's so swift and unstoppable with her words, a few drops of your head giving her a nod is enough signal to let her continue her harsh sentences.

"...So, what about you?" Her question was like she crafted a new full-stop to the conversation.

The unexpected question caught you off-guard. Unsure of what to respond with. What could you say? Did you have any struggle regarding the industry? You gifted yourself a halt to brainstorm her question. Eventually, enough thoughts form a coherent feedback.

For the first time, you had the freedom to express how you felt. But your nervousness got the best of you— desaturating your sentence to a more anticlimactic anecdote.

"Exactly what I expect! We both can't catch a break, can we?" You felt a thrilling astonishment bubble within you. Grace relates! Her engaging comment ignited a conclusion in you:

She cared for your input.

With that, the noise withdrawal. Leaving you both in a silent trance. You expect for it to be broken by one of her lines, but no attempt was made to do so. Rather, you both sat in the basking lull. Still, you expect her to strike, like a pounce from a predator to a prey. You never expected such a sentence—

"You know what? You're pretty sensible."

That was the nicest thing she had ever said.

[🦉] Ulysses Wilhelm -

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

You found yourself having a conversation with none other than the insomniac Ultimate Historian. It was a rare privilege, like conversing with a living history book in front of you. Every single word that escaped your mouth was a scribble etched to the pages of his journal. It was a natural habit for him to record his entire daily interactions, however it gave him no time to give you full responses.

Your conversation unfolded on a superficial level. Yet, Ulysses paid extreme attention to what you have to input to the casual talk, making it feel as if it's more significant.

The conversation traveled at a comfortable pace. You both— or rather you only— is now on the subject of your recent accomplishments that earned you a place at the academy. As the explanation spilled out of your mouth, similar to what you rehearsed to what to tell friends and relatives; Ulysses spoke up, pausing his quill equipped hand.

He revises his notes, the silence overpowering the moment. You felt still. It was such a contrast from how much you talked about and now suddenly you were quiet. The silence was obvious, the words no longer formed in your mouth. You felt burdened from chattering too much, you fear it etched a high-ego image on your person. 

"Would you please elaborate on the event part? I'd love to know more." A spark of interest glittered his steady, indifferent tone.

As each word came to be his question. It felt like your talent was renewed and celebrated in a different perspective. He wanted you to clarify further!

You continued your explanation, offering him the vivid details of how your contributions during this 'event' came to be. As you finished up your story, he seemed to still be jotting down the specifics of your anecdote.

He lets out a yawn as he deliberately dotted the tip of the quill onto the parchment insinuating a period.

"That was interesting." He briefly commented.

[🐊] Mark 'Mayhem' Berskii

Silence remains a law that's inevitable. Simply a slope that none could get out of— especially during times where you'd strike up an idle conversation.

It's an ambitious challenge to converse with the Ultimate Music Producer. To say the least, he's extremely aloof, nearly impossible to approach. His distant demeanour made him tough to converse with. However, it's difficult to imagine how you even got into this situation.

Small talk was futile. Idle chats didn't work on Mark. He did not seem to be fazed by anything you attempted to say to spark up a chat between you both— you'd always be met with an unyielding silence.

Finally, you take matters into your own hands and start to introduce yourself.

Mark didn't seem too interested by your rant, your efforts seemed to be brushed off the more you tried. The only responses are stares— glares, in fact. It's obviously shown that he limits his interactions as much as possible.

You said one last conversation starter. He just gave you a small nod. The bare minimum of a response.

A heavy sigh escaped you. You aren't irritated, rather tired. At least you tried, a nod from Mark Berskii himself? That's well enough for you.

You continued with a subtle end to the conversation, not wanting to push him further. Probably for the best, but you didn't feel too pleased.

"What's your talent again?"

His voice was just as aloof as he is. There was no insinuation of welcome, but you'd gladly answer.

It was hard to believe that was Mark. A small humble smile graces your face as you respond with your talent.

A sentence from Mark Berskii himself?  That's surely something worth celebrating!

[ieatgoldfishy]

Please - Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader

Cw: switch Miguel, switch y/n, begging, rough sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, hair pulling, overstimulation, pussy drunk! Miguel, cock drunk! Y/n, name calling (baby, Amor, etc), size difference/kink, man handling.

(First post wow. Idk why i didn’t write smut for him sooner.

Pls request shit, I have nothing to do in the summer.)

_______________________________________________

It had been about a week since you had figured out that Miguel O’Hara, your boyfriend, was Spider-Man. You were so angry, he’d leave you in the middle of the night to go fight crime and wouldn’t be back until 6am in the morning.

He’d come home bruised and limping and never told you why. He had you worried day and night he was getting himself into trouble. You hadn’t talked to him since you found out. You could see the desperation in his eyes any time he’d try and talk to you but was turned down immediately.

You were In the kitchen, cooking dinner when you heard the door open. Miguel didn’t get off work until 9:00pm so you wondered who it was. You walked to the door expecting an intruder, but low and behold, it was your boyfriend.

You turned back around and walked to the kitchen. “Amor, please! Talk to me!” He cried. “Why would I?” You asked him. “You waited till now to tell me that you of all people are Spider-Man! You left me in the middle of the night with no explanation. I was so fucking worried about you when you came home with bruises all over you!”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to leave!” He was behind you at this point. He put his bulky arms around your waist and lowered his head to you neck. “Is there any way I can make it up to you? I’ll do anything.” He whispered into your neck.

You could feel yourself growing hot at the contact, along with not talking, you two also haven’t had sex in a week. It was brutal. “What do you think you can do for me?” You asked him, still stirring the pot of soup your making.

He was silent for a minute until he finally said something, “please let me eat you out, please” he whined in your ear. “I’ll do anything, please let me do this” your cunt felt hot, so hot.

You turned off the heat for the soup and turned to look at him. You have him a look of ‘follow me’ and walked to the bedroom. He followed happily behind you.

You walked into the room and took your shorts off and crawled onto the bed. You leaned your back on the stacked pillows and put your knees in the air, spreading your legs for Miguel’s view.

Miguel looked at you like a man starved, he looked like he was ready to pounce onto you. Instead, he crawled to in between your legs and looked at you. “Go ahead” you told him.

Without a second to waste, you panties were ripped off and he was attacking your clit. His tongue was so skilled. The stimulation sent bolts of pleasure through your entire body.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you didn’t notice his hand creeping up to your cunt. Before you knew it, he had two fingers up your cunt while sucking on your clit.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it like you were going to rip it out. Miguel let out a moan directly onto your clit, vibrating it for a second. You grabbed his hair harder and he moaned again.

He added another finger into you, finger fucking your with three now. You could feel yourself growing close. Your were getting so loud, the neighbors definitely hated you by now.

“Miguel I’m gonna-” you were cut off by him going faster, sucking and licking your clit harder. Your were screaming. Your orgasm hit you like a truck. You expected him to stop but he kept his hard and fast pace.

He was overstimulating you to the point your screaming his name and mindless babble. Your entire sense shrunk down to his tongue and fingers. You could feel your second orgasm building.

“Fuck Miguel!” You moaned out. You started grinding your pussy onto his face, trying to make your orgasm come quicker. Your were so close to cumming, you and Miguel knew it. He kept at it until you came a second. This one better than the last.

Your thighs wrapped around his head as he walked you through your orgasm. Once your climax finished, he pushed your thighs off you his head and sat up on his knees. “Miguel..” he looked at you, “please Miguel, fuck me” you told him.

“How badly do you want me too?” He asked. “Please Miguel, I need you to fuck my pussy into mush. Fuck me so hard I don’t even know my own name. Destroy my fucking legs, please.” You looked down at his sick and saw him so hard his was almost busting through his pants.

You ran your hand over his clothed cock and he whined at the contact. “D-don’t do that, y/n.” He told you. “Why not?” You asked him, a cocky tone in your voice.

Without saying a word, he flipped you onto your stomach, putting a pillow underneath your hips, leaving your bare ass in the air. He pressed his bulge onto you Ass and moaned.

“Because I can’t hold back” you heard him stand up and take off his clothes. The only thing you had on currently was one of his baggy t-shirts with not bra underneath.

He got back on the bed and lined himself up with your pussy. In an instant, he shoved his cock inside you with no warning. You screamed out, “Miguel! Fuck!”

He began pounding into you at a fast pace, fucking you into the bed. He put his hands by your head. You were still sensitive from your first two highs your could barely think.

You were grabbing the pillow in front of you for dear life. Your knuckles turning white. He was going so fast your couldn’t think. The only thing your could tell, was that he was holding back.

“How’s that for you?” He asked. “Don’t….” You barely get words out. “Don’t restrain yourself….” You whined out. He was quiet for a second. Then you felt him go impossibly faster. He was so deep in your cunt your couldn’t even think.

He was getting close and you could tell, his dick twitching inside of you. “Mi amor.. please, let me cum inside, I need to” he moaned out. You couldn’t form words anymore so you just nodded. He threw his head back and moaned.

“I’m fucking a baby into you, fuck, I need to, Need to cum deep inside you” he whispered. You could only moan in response. Both of you were almost there, almost to your breaking points.

His thrusts were getting uncoordinated and sloppy. He brought a hand down to rub your clit, making you squeeze around him. That was enough to send both of you to the edge.

He moaned into your ear as he came, still shallow thrusting inside of you. He eventually pulled out and watched his cum drip out. He pushed it all back in with his fingers.

He went into the bathroom and go a wet towel to clean you and him off. After that, he laid down next to you. “I’m sorry I-” you cut him off and kissed him. “I love you” you told him.

“I love you too” he said back

[nightcolorz]

idk if I said this b4, but it does make me a little sad when people write meta posts and memes and stuff where they portray or refer to amc Armand as being Louis’s pet tiger or shark or some other form of mindless violent animal that is being poorly domesticated. The implication with that type of metaphor is that Armand was born a predator and pretending that he is anything but a killer is a big silly moment. But like, I don’t get that or think it’s rlly accurate. I’ve never seen people refer to Lestat or Louis or Claudia as being inherently akin to predator animals bcus they r vampires, I don’t see what makes Armand different? He’s much older than them, but he is still very much a person in the same way Louis is a person, he’s not Louis’s pet, they r two people in a relationship 😭. I’ve never seen anyone say “Louis loving lestat is like having a megalodon as a pet” the way they do with Armand even tho Lestat literally does attack Louis with his teeth and claws when he is provoked 💀. Also, the implication that Armand is an animal rlly rubs me the wrong way partly bcus saying that Armand is like a tiger implies that he was born violent and unfeeling, which is just not true. The reason Armand behaves in the violent, strange and apathetic way he does is bcus he was tortured his entire childhood and adult life, not bcus there is something inherently evil about him. I’m a little conflicted bcus I sometimes find these types of animal comparisons interesting, but I also sort of disagree with them fundamentally, and I think they often misunderstand Armand’s character

[lokideservesahug]

An Unexpected Crossover

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Pairing:Carlos Alcaraz x F1 pilot!Reader

Notes: I've had this in my mind since Wimbledon but only ever ½ created this. Shout out to @yungbludz for fully bringing me into my Alcaraz era and for indirectly encouraging me to post this (il your work) + (an anon comes out of hiding ig). I have ideas for other parts but Idk if I should continue so feedback is very welcome. This characterisation is probably awful but I've never written for Carlos before. I'm very open to advice though.

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the only rookie in Formula 1's 2024 season. But many people get excited at her attending Wimbledon especially after some old interviews resurface...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You weren't ashamed of your boyfriend, of course not. But mornings like these made the constant speculation, talks and borderline harassment about your relationship worth it.

Moments where you woke up earlier and could watch the first breaking of the morning sun fall out between the gaps in your curtains and onto Carlos' face. You watch as the yellow light frames your boyfriend's face, making him look even more pretty than usual.

In this moment, he looked like the perfect image of sleep. And goodness did he deserve it, especially after his performance, that could only be described as truly outstanding yesterday.

You'd heard what people said about yesterday. Djokovic gave one of his greatest performances ever and Carlos still managed to beat him. Even the thought strikes a chord of pride within you and brings a grin to your face.

A sudden groan however wakes you from your thoughts. "Querida?" You hum in response, looking back down to your boyfriend. He lifts his head up slowly and gives you a familiar look (one that you've learnt that at times like these, means he's questioning why you aren't still glued to his side). You hold in the urge to laugh slightly his pouty face and half asleep fueled strop but that only makes his pout get somehow bigger. "Big baby." You lie down next to Carlos, resting your head on his shoulder and weaving your hand under his shirt. Carlos let's out a slight shiver at the lack of warmth in your hands but also simultaneously hums in content. "Eso está mejor" (That's better)

You roll your eyes. "Then shush you big baby." Already anticipating his next move, you whip out your other arm to cage Carlos' hand to the bed. "Don't even think about pretending to be offended. Just go back to sleep." And that order he happily complies with; well after wriggling his arm from out of your grip only to lay it on your back and rub mindless shapes as he mutters "mujer mandona" (Bossy woman). And before you have the time to respond, (probably about the fact that Carlos gets riled up at stuff like that) you feel the familiar shallow breathing of your boyfriend fan across your hair.

You had to do things at some point today. But you suppose you could sleep in, especially for the Wimbledon Champion.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Jane had given you some elaborate story for if anyone truly cared enough to ask about your relationship, well at least for your standards. You're pretty sure it went something along the lines of:

1. You and your boyfriend met at the start of last year and began dating soon after (but kept it on the downlow due to your job). However, you were so enamoured with him that despite your PR training, you let the fact that you weren't single slip once or twice.

2. He broke up with you a few months ago, leaving you heartbroken but still being mature and understanding.

3. (Possibly the truest element of the whole story) Carlos kissed you when he won Wimbledon for the second time, which he did.

4. Your ex boyfriend saw, came to a realisation, called you up... you know the rest.

It was very PR polished and you knew it, Jane knew it, but it was what you needed. Some story just yo cover your tracks and make people focus on your racing, not your love live. But it almost made you laugh at what lengths people had to go to. When infact the real story was only:

1. You and Carlos started dating at the start of last year...

That's it. No break up, no heartfelt reunion after you kissed another man. However, you and your boyfriend had a good laugh over the whole story and even led to an interesting conversation a few days ago.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You'd just come home after racing in the simulator all afternoon. You look down at your phone and sigh at the sight of Jane wishing you a nice day, finally ending the conversation. You fight the urge to roll your eyes as you unlock the front door and step inside. You take your shoes off and walk to the living room to try and find Carlos.

And exactly as expected, he's sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone. He looks up as you enter the room. "Buenas tardes cariño. ¿Cómo estuvo?" (Good afternoon darling, how was it). You sigh and drop back onto the sofa, leaving back on Carlos as he adjusts to put an arm around you. "Meh. Same as usual. Jane finally came up with a cover story..." Carlos hums in intrigue next to you as you explain the ins and outs of what might as well be a well constructed pyramid scheme at this point.

By the time you've finished, you feel well and truly worn out but you seek comfort in the feeling of Carlos absentmindedly rubbing shapes onto your shoulder. "I don't see what the big deal is. I mean I told Juanki ages ago." You feel your whole body tense up as you turn to Carlos... "You did what?" You're only met with Carlos' sheepish, confused face. And oh gosh, you feel like you need to lie down.

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Idk who to tag so I'll tag my usual people but please let me know ow if you don't want yo be tagged in work like this:

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[disneyprincemuke]

the best of (instagram) * bother figures

they always somehow manage the ruin the pictures she looks good in

pairings: max verstappen x fem!driver, lando norris x reader, alex albon x fem!driver

notes: LMFAO guySSSS I TOOK SOOOO LONG TO GET PICS FOR THIS IF U DONT LIKE THIS IM GOING TO RETIRE AND U WONT GET ANY LOGAN AND MICK STUFF

(series masterlist) | (📂 smau specials)

rockysroads

👤 tagged lily zneimer

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 67,929 others

kidy/n you might look at me and think you’re going crazy or something like that

view all 2,797 comments…

user1 rocky being a fnaf fan was NOT on my bingo card

rockysroads yeah i just love josh hutcherson a lot too :/

user2 no cause WHO are you leaning on in that picture

oscarpiastri interesting choice of pictures

user3 so ur telling me u know something

user4 is that u?? or…

user5 is that logan

user6 if i speak.

user7 secret boyfriend??

maxverstappen1 who did u crop out wtf

rockysroads none of ur business

maxverstappen1 excuuuuuse me for being curious

user8 wow even being wdc doesnt exempt u from y/n’s disrespect

rockysroads so true like he’s not special just bc he’s a 2 time wdc

logansargeant did u crop me out

user9 SPEAK YOUR TRUTH LOGAN

user10 STAND UR GROUND LFG

user11 am i crazy or is y/n soft launching u

user12 i might have to check myself into the mental hospital after this one i fear

rockysroads yo shut up

rockysroads posted on their story!

user13 who is this man

user14 r u softlaunching 💀

rockysroads what does that mean

user15 is that loGAN’S WATCH

user16 whats this softlaunch

rockysroads

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 67,898 others

rockysroads ive looked SO good lately ugh

view all 5,987 comments…

user17 WHY IS SHE ALWAYS CUTTING SOMEONE OUT OF THE PICTURE DO U HAVE A BF

user18 blink twice if youve got a bf…?

user19 why he hold u like that

user20 my working theory is that she’s out and about on dates and these are all different guys

landonorris

liked by rockysroads, oscarpiastri and 68,376 others

landonorris guys it wasnt a soft launch it was just me :/

view all 10,478 comments…

user21 oh. i see.

user22 not on my bingo card but ok

rockysroads why would u do this

landonorris to ruin ur life idk

user23 HELP WHY DID SHE CUT U GUYS OUT FROM THE PICTURE??

rockysroads they were ruining the picture :/

user24 IMF UVKINNNNN HOWLINGGGG

user25 if this one is u, who r the other guys in the photos???

rockysroads sighpie okay i'll expose myself then

rockysroads

👤 tagged alex_albon

liked by oscarpiastri, sebastianvettel and 45,693 others

rockysroads please stop speculating it's literally just alex :/ they just keep ruining my pictures with their boyness

view all 4,123 comments...

user26 why do you keep messing with us is this funny to you

rockysroads little bit actually

user27 honesty is the best policy ig?

rockysroads u get it fr user27

alex_albon i'll try not to be offended

rockysroads i appreciate that

maxverstappen1

👤 tagged rockysroads

liked by kellypiquet, rockysroads and 104,303 others

maxverstappen1 here's to the best addition the grid's ever seen

view all 50,498 others...

user28 no wtf she's the worst

kidy/n boy if u dont shut up

user29 wow guys its time to go to clown school i think

user30 real. i just know she's tired of us being delusional

rockysroads it's ok same haha

user31 i'm so tired of hER GAMES

user32 like i cant do this anymore

rockysroads u ALWAYS ruin my pictures

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts

[dumbhungsubboy]

Finally fixing my pinned post, cause someone decided to delete it (it was me)

I’m 19 now, 5’6 brown hair and blue eyed, several piercings, I wear glasses cause my eyes suck. About as stereotypical shy nerdy boy as they come. Love playing games and watching movies, mostly horror.

Enjoy most all kinds of music, except country, sue me for having a correct opinion.

Current fav bands are destroy boys, fidlar, and idk like pinkshift and mindless self indulgence

Plus like a bunch of video game soundtracks.

Obv have a severe deadly life threatening mommy kink, but basically anything else you see in my posts is stuff I’m into either a lot or just willing to dabble in out of curiosity.

I have been really horrible about answering asks lately but I still read them, so feel free to ask away, no promises I’ll actually answer in a reasonable amount of time or at all but it’s something to do while I have my morning tea

DMs and asks are open.

🦢🎀🥀🪷🦖 are taken anon symbol thingies

[aesthetixhoe]

paparazzi — J.C.

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions of anxiety/self worth issues,

word count: ---

pronouns used: none!

request: can u write where like us and jack are out like at the mall abd fans come up to us asking for photos and all that? (were also a actor/actress. idk is this made sense to u😭)

authors note: I added a bit of other stuff into this, so sorry if this isn't what you wanted. i love this idea deeply! <3

Being an actor and going to the mall was... Stressful. You never knew if you would be recognized, so you always had to wear presentable clothing, plus you didn't know if the people who would recognize would even like you.

The mall was no exception. With the endless stores filled with fellow teenagers and young adults who knew both you and Jack, there was bound to be at least one person who knew you.

Going out with Jack was easier than being alone. He's always there to tell you that no matter who you see, or how they feel about you, you still have fans that love you... Including him. He'll hold your hand, and tell you to squeeze it if you get anxious, give you more small kisses than usual (which is already a lot). The PDA worries you further, thinking that if someone who likes him more sees you two kissing that they'll post about it and try cancelling you or something, but the love is worth it.

You came to the mall to go shopping, you needed some more casual clothes, and Jack needed some higher end items for a premier. Walking into the mall was thankfully uneventful, but once you got further into the populace of the mall, that's when the pictures started.

It wasn't paparazzi standing right inside waiting to run you down but to get pictures, but there were teenage girls who found Jack attractive. While you were also an actor, and have also been in popular things, you weren't a hot boy...

“Oh my god! You're Jack Champion. Holy shit, can we get a picture with you?!” And so it started. He obviously said yes and you moved to the side, not before he kissed your hand though. He wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulder, smiling big for her friend with the camera. They switched so the previous camera girl could get in on it. They thanked him before walking past, both still bright red, slightly shaky and whispering about how cute he was. You had to agree.

About every 30 feet was another person asking for a picture, or autograph. He would stop and gladly do whatever pose they asked for, or sign whatever they wanted. He loved all of his fans, and was willing to do anything for them.

After splitting up and going to your designated stores to buy the items you needed, you two found each other.

The walk to leave was mostly uninterrupted, just a few people recognizing you two and taking pictures. “Looks like we have some paparazzi huh?” Jack jokes, smiling at you. God he's so pretty.

“Yeah...” You say in mindless agreement. You were too busy looking at his smile and the way it made his eye squint slightly.

“Stop staring.” He says as he blushes and looks away. He loves your attention, but it doesn't stop him from blushing every time.

Once you two were home you spent time scrolling through Instagram, looking at the posts jack was tagged in, seeing all the pictures fans had taken with him.

Then... There was a picture of you.

It was a “news” Instagram account that posted celebrity sightings.

“Ah, I see you've found the stalker photos...” Jack chuckles as he approaches the back of the couch. He puts his chin on your shoulder watching as you scroll through the pictures.

“Yeah. I'm actually... Kinda flattered?” You almost ask. He hops over the back of the couch to join you in sitting. He looks at you questioningly.

“What do you mean?” He asks quietly. You hated having candids taken, they ‘always looked bad.’

You look at him before looking down embarrassed. “Well... Normally it's just pictures of you. And I hate photos, you know that, but... It feels nice to be recognized. I just feel like an accessory to you sometimes...” You admit softly.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. Once you make eye contact, both of his hands settle on either of your cheeks to keep your head steady.

“[Y/n], you'll never be an accessory. You're your own person. You're an amazing actor, and an even better person.” He states into your eyes, and you can feel something. Something warm deep inside of your stomach. Something in your chest, like you'd just drank a hot drink on a cold day that warmed up your insides.

“I love you.” You breathe out, thoughtlessly. Thoughtlessly.

Your eyes widen in shock as your mouth falls agape. You actually said it... Holy shit. He's silent. Oh fuck. Oh god. This was such a mistake.

“Jack, I am so sorry. I-I wasn't thinking and it just fell out and I know we haven't said it yet, and I don't want you to feel obligated to say it back but I just-”

“I love you too.” He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss your lips. It felt like the stars aligned and the earth stopped spinning and time stopped and everything else people use to describe being in love.

You pull away, looking into his eyes, tears welling in yours. “Are you ok? Should I not have said it?” He asks, brows furrowed in worry.

“No!” You exclaim grinning, then reaching your fingers to the nape of his neck, “I'm just so in love with you.”