#no makeup no fcks

[mindmythorns]

garbage selfies of a goblin

[meganechan05]

Honestly, why is my gut instinct telling me KingOhger actually has the most perfect setup for a Rita Corruption Arc...?

I don't want ittttttt 😭😭😭😭😭

I love corruption arcs, but I don't want it for my little purple baby who just wants to chill and watch "Me and Moffun"!

[envymourn]

Not good at makeup and it shows 😅😅😅

[psycheadelic]

My cosplay came in and the top fit great but the pants were tight around the hips due to Asian sizing 😔. Luckilly though it has a elastic waistband so its not really uncomfortable. It is a exact fit so I can't gain any weight until the con.

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[dolliestfairy]

Dolliest 🎀

Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Asa emory, & Patrick bateman with Chubby!fem!reader who dressed like a Doll! ʚ ₊˚ ᥀✿

Author Note ✿ : hello lovlies, sorry i have been on a break for like 3/4 days because i just like um.. really need some break and also i had a lot activities going on, but i still try to write something for you all, so please sit down and enjoy :). if you like my writings please give me reblogs and feedbacks. tysm! also we almost got 140 followers atp, Tysm for your support lovlies!!

Trigger Warning ✿ : insecurities, fluff, some murder stuff idk, blood & insect mentioned, and some comfort also :), and maybe some misspelled word. overall enjoy! Reader skin color is NOT announced.

Dividers from @v6que ꒰ঌ ໒꒱. Gifs are not mine.

✿ Vincent sinclair

- you're an Art, thats what Vincent think the first time he saw you.

- and oh my god... he freaking loves it watching you dressing yourself!!

- believe me, he would never let anyone take down your confidence, if the one who take down your confidence is his brother (take example : Bo Sinclair) he wouldnt be scared to defend you like it his life-priority.

- but if the one who takes down your confidence is his next victim?? they are dead. even if the victim was important bla bla bla, he doesnt give a fck. how dare they talk down to his beloved partner?? such a unforgivable act.

- Love, i mean﹍LOOVEE drawing you. you're gonna see THOUSANDS paper with a drawing that look Exactly like you, EVERYWHERE. he even had his own fav drawing that he's dedicated to you.

- he, drawing you, and protecting you from anyone who mocks you including his brother, is a way of how he show himself that he is truly in love with you.

- if you're feeling insecure? better be ready to be suffocate from his affection.

✿ Jason Voorhees

- Man is silently drooling behind his mask.

- kinda like a Mommy kink....

- love the way you dress yourself with those soft pink dress and accesories, those glam nails and hairs and those soft makeup... perfect.

- but theres a time where he felt himself is not appropriate for you.

- we know this man is a insecure boy, but if you manage to cheer him up with your own way, istg your life is going to be put into this big mans life-priority.

- like.. he'll do everything to keep you happy.

- sometimes he even steal accessories or clothes or even make up that he found from his victim, where he collect them all and give them all for you.

- you might feeling kinda nasty seeing those gift is still covered in blood and with like a rotting-corpse smell... but if you accept it brightly he's gonna die on that place & in that moment.

- really love you. if you're insecure, he's going to slit somebodys throat for making you that way, but if you're feeling insecure because your own self? well then, he's going to go to hunt some victim, to get some MORE AND MORE stuff that you may like, well i mean.. thats just how he shows his love for you. his chubby doll 🎀

✿ Asa emory

- didnt know how to feel....

- but he does somehow, loves the opposite vibes you both gave. like he's the bad murderer boy who likes insect and some nasty nasty stuff, life in a nasty place and then theres you! who brighten up the nasty place he live in, always dress like a doll, pink pink, Vanilla perfume n stuff..

- just perfect and balance combination.

- when his victim saw who he is and when they saw YOU who is behind him they're gonna find themself asking "y-you.. you-you didnt get k-killed?..." and only to get the answer of him "she's my Princess."

- BUT... thats on a rare occassion. sometimes he just called you "my partner" or something. but if he's feeling in a good & cocky mood then he's going to call you his princess.

- and just like jason, he likes to give you a beautiful beautiful stuff who is always & almost covered in blood.

- if he's sees you wearing the stuff he gave you he can feel his cold heart melting.

- jk.. he doesnt feel his cold heart melting, because you already melt him in the first place. he just can feel his cold & thick heart is being burned by your affection.

- and when i'm telling you this.. he's enjoying, every, single, one of it.

✿ Patrick bateman

- oh my god..

- he's a real cocky man. but let me tell you something..

- HE SPOILS YOU SOO MUCH LIKE OH MY GOD.

- like i'm not even joking. he spoils you... really really spoils you to the bone, to your soul like you feel like you're suffocating.

- because he's still a patrick bateman, he loves to suffocate everyone, you're no expectation. the only differences is that he suffocate other people with death.

- but with you?... oh he's going to suffocate you with.. LOVE, LOVE & LOVE!

- in which he doesnt even believe any of that.

- but he does, believe it with you.

- patrick is a aware man. he knew himself real well, so when he found himself on a one knee for you, he found himself surprised and well um.. unbelieveably.

- never in his wildest life he would ended up with someone like you.

- at first he tried to denied, but as times goes by, he cant help, but felt his cold and tough soul was slowly melting over your words and touch.

- you're so.. so.. precious. soft, and round.. need to be protected and loved.

- it has been Too long for patrick bateman since he have been feeling this type of.. feelings.

- but you manage to somehow make him feel it again! and he wont waste it!

- the way he suffocate you, choking you with his affection and love is just how he shows himself how madly he is in love with you..! please dont waste it darling, please dont..

- let your soft appereance burn his cold soul as he would burn this world for you.

[byhuenii]

⊱☆⊰ f1 driver!gojo satoru imagines

AN - fck it the best of both worlds ! F1 DRIVER GOJO SATORU BARK. this gonna have a modern spin so all the teams on the grid rn bc i’m lazy to makeup!

F1 driver!satoru who was the f2 champion making every single fcking team to want him. his main choices were red bull and mercedes. he DEFINITELY drives for mercedes, sure red bull is good but mercedes has something calling to him.

F1 driver!satoru who has a rivalry with suguru who drives for red bull. the rivalry was so natural because they’ve been childhood friends. both team accounts post them together for rivalry and just for shits and giggles.

F1 driver!satoru who had absolutely swept the competition for his first ever year in mercedes. he was first in drivers championship keeping a good distance from suguru, he was definitely going to win rookie of the year. he made the car look like nothing it’s ever seen before, he made mercedes a top tier racing team again. he absolutely outshined the second driver of mercedes. for the good and for the bad. (a menace)

F1 driver!satoru who only had a 1 year contract with mercedes ended up being continued for the next 4 years. he became the most paid ROOKIE driver ever, and he had the skills to prove it. led 50 laps, 6 pole positions, 9 podiums. he was just THAT driver. nobody could argue because everyone and their team wanted them. only downside was he was hard on himself, yes he is one of the best rookie drivers but to say he didn’t beat himself up over crashes and minor mistakes was an understatement. he never took it out on the team because it was never their fault unless proven otherwise, he always had a smile on his face but that was because he wanted everyone to see the hood in him not the bad because he is gojo satoru he doesn’t have bad days; and when he does he makes those bad days good.

F1 driver!satoru who is quite a nepo baby in the f1 industry. his father had raced when he was gojo’s age too, but that never made gojo any less talented—rather he continued to carry his dad’s legacy. satoru who knows his dad was a famous driver but never likes to talk about him since he was never there for him he rather talk about his mom,

F1 driver!satoru who had a a huge fanbase after his first win as a rookie, he was constantly prized loved and showered by fans screaming his name in stands. satoru who was the fastest rookie to earn a nickname all around racing as the honored one.

[lucy4-ever]

sfw headcanons about tom kaulitz

!all SFW!

loves checking you out

lets you take his oversized clothes

when you meet, he directly proved you he wasn't a player anymore cause he totally fell for you, and you REALLY satisfy him in bed, so what more?

he's flirty af and talk dirty in public as much as in private

he literally doesnt give a single fck

probably made you learn dirty words in german and told you they meant sweet things

and you understood quickly but still acted like you didnt know

so you randomly, IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, say these sentences to tease him

you guys have usual arguments but he ends up saying you're right, cause... you were duh

however he never raises his voice at you

always sleeping on your thighs or chest

likes to embarass you and say cringe things so that you both start bursting out laughing

always has his hand on you : waist, shoulder, butt... (as long as you're fine with it)

acts like he doesn't crave your affection (but really does)

he fancies you and probably make fake scenarios about you

PHYSICAL TOUCH is his typa love (not that suprising)

you probably really get along with bill

you be both smoking at 1am and be like "let's stop smoking" and forget about it the day after

gets jealous really easily and tell you right away (he also insults them right to their face when you just stand there and laugh at the situation)

i feel like tom doesn't really have communication issues, he can sometimes be mean and harsh while telling you what he thinks

i think he has some trust issues (even though, he's the one who used to be a player)

but i think it's actually deeper than that

he doesn't feel safe, knowing what anyone could do to you :(

that's why he's so possesive and jealous

anyway

y'all love touching at eachother's hair

you probably already put makeup on his face due to a dare

oh yeah, games

when you feel like drinking you two have the tradition to play a game before getting too touchy

like, never have i ever, truth or dare, answer the question or drink..

big fan of snoop dogg

everyone knew tom always brought random girls in his room

but for you, it wans't his room, so everyone understood it was different

espicailly bill who immediatly made friend with you

his fav part of your body are 100% your chest, thighs and ass

you love his eyes and abs for sure 🤭

doesn't particulary loves being the spotlight but he really needs your attention to live

late drunk and high night drives in his car with the 2000s rap blasting is heaven

and you'll just park in an isolated place and do your thing

brought you to the studio and both made a song

y'all made an awful song, while being high and drunk, thinking it was perfect and re listened it the next day and were ASHAMED

georg, gustav and bill laughed for hours

you two often get bored and just start making out to kill time

and it works really well

got caught A LOT by literally EVERY ONE

[starsetvie]

Look, I get it, he's taking it easy, building up the momentum, and playing the game

But for fck's sake Carlos, get it togetheeeerrr

Please please please

I haven't done my makeup yet, but he's bringing me to tears

[akkivee]

made it the venue!!!!!!!!

made it to the venue!!!!!!!!!!!! ✌️💜💜💜

[lovingkvinner]

The same goddamn song (2/3)

Larissa weems x reader

Okay so I’m making it three parts because I got weirdly carried away with the car scene?! It might be boring as fck I don’t know but they’re cute and also reader is a psychic outcast I have decided (I imagined this from the start but it’s just kinda cropped up now)

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“15 minutes? Really?” You said to yourself as you closed the door. I mean, you were soaked from your shower, you had to dry your hair, get dressed and put on makeup in 15 minutes. What annoyed you more is Larissa was a woman of great appearance, surely she knew how long it takes to ready oneself.

This was not just any ordinary coffee date either, this was Larissa weems for heavens sake, she always looked beautiful!.

You had no time to waste and so you grabbed your hairdryer and just went at it until some minutes later your hair was dry, then you combed through it, it was the best you could do. Dressing was a matter of running around panicking and then chucking on whatever you felt was casual but also sort of dressed up….. not in a ‘give me attention’ way but then…. Also in a ‘give me attention way.’

It was comfortable but it made your figure look great so you weren’t too fussed. The makeup was little more than a swipe of blush, mascara and some lipstick.

Usually you liked to go beyond this but time wasn’t exactly on your side, at least you could use the excuse of it being a Sunday ‘day of rest’ and all.

You were breathing very heavily now, attempting to calm yourself and also not faint and throw up and cry and scream and fall at her knees and giggle like a child .

You smoothed down a stray hair in the mirror and walked out of the room quickly in fear that if you lingered any longer you wouldn’t move at all.

A smile graced your panic stricken face as you rounded the corner and saw her stood outside, leaning an arm on the top of her car, her legs perfectly elongated by the pose she was stood in.

The day was a mid autumn one, a little chilly, Larissa was in her dual pistachio dress with matching coat; your favourite of her outfits. Leaves this time of year were all orange, but not yet departed from their trees, they painted a great compliment to the boldness of her red painted lips.

You felt as if your legs might just buckle under you right then and there but by some god you managed to walk over to her.

“How do you manage?” Larissa asked peering down from her spot in the heavens .

“Hm?” You questioned, variably confused and blushing wildly.

Secretly Larissa liked the way she made you feel, but most times tried to ignore the way you made her feel. She could feel shame slipping away or either desire overpowering that shame.

“Look so amazing, I only gave you 15 minutes. Hoped it would humble you but… clearly you have a talent for looking this way” Larissa never once took her eyes off of you except when she traced them up and down your body. This made you insane, never had your heart done this, not even when you worked out, not even for anyone else but you felt as if you were about to vomit up all of your internal organs. Oddly this complement made you more self conscious, you had to be perfect for her, you could never face failure.

“Oh… well thank you, if you think that. However I could never come close to the beauty you posses principal” you looked away shy as you tried to return her kind compliment.

“I think you may call me Larissa, y/n. After all, this is a date, be it however small” peering down at you she smirked and reached out her hand to open the car door to her right and then gestured for you to get in.

“Thank you, Larissa” was all you could muster as you climbed into the car.

Larissa shut the door behind you and for that moment when she hadn’t reached the other side to climb in herself yet, was peace. You had approximately 6 seconds before she climbed in the car door next to you. You drew in shaky breaths and fiddled with the end of your sleeve in the pit of your lap.

Larissa opened the door and you felt an icy breeze seep in from outside, leaving you shivering and pulling you back into reality. As she sat down you could smell her perfume, it was like you were high.

The car ride was torture. Larissa’s elegant hands gripped the steering wheel delicately, she could have been driving you in the opposite direction to murder you in the woods but you were so focused on her you wouldn’t have noticed.

“I don’t see you around a lot, on the weekends.” Larissa said, it was almost like a question, you were thankful that she had decided to break this silence that was quite awkward but strangely nice, you found it nice, the human-ness of being awkward.

“I prefer to become a recluse after the week. Hide away in a book or something.” You were looking at Larissa little more confidently now. “Im boring, I know”

Larissa laughed lightly, a sound which left your mind spinning out of control “nonsense, I find people who read to be the most interesting and by the sound of the music I hear coming from your room, you are certainly anything but boring. Anyway, whose your favourite author? If you have one”

You looked out of the window thoughtfully, god you hadn’t thought about this before but the answer came relatively easy to you “Jane Austen, I just love the way her writing makes the most mundane things magical. I think I must have read Emma a thousand times” she smiled at your answer as if she understood perfectly well, you were bushing madly but you couldn’t help feeling shameful. She was your boss after all “what about you? You got a favourite literary genius?”

“Hmmm, probably, Stephen king” Larissa answered, you loved the way her face looked when she was deep in thought, the orange sun shining through the window onto her perfect being, god you wished it could be this way forever; you sat in her car, falling apart with every word

“You look like the type” you told her.

Amused by this she asked “and why is that?”

“You’re very mysterious, I know little about you yet I want to know everything because I feel like everything you do and say are the most extraordinary things a girl could witness” as soon as the words left your mouth you wondered if you had overstepped. You noticed her face change to an emotion you had trouble recognising, you cursed yourself for possibly making her uncomfortable.

“You’re clearly an Austen fan. Looking at the world and everything in it with a romantic view that I so very much envy” she said, focusing on the road in front of her that was meeting with the outskirts of the town.

“It has so far been my fatal flaw I have begun to see. It’s messy, often delusional to mix ones feelings of sadness and desire.” The feelings flowed out of you and you began to wonder how a conversation about books had grown into this.

“Well, if it makes you think I’m interesting then I suppose it isn’t all that bad, to be a romantic. Your kind make great poets” the smile you had missed so the last few minutes returned to Larissa’s face “you write poetry right? At least that’s what I assume you are always scribbling down in the plethora of notebooks you carry with you”

You wondered how she had been so diligent to notice this.

“I only assume because I can see the shapes of the writing, I thought they looked like stanzas… they always look enchanting” she explained herself, she didn’t want to seem weird, like she had been reading it

“Yes, it is, poetry. Good poetry though? That I haven’t the slightest idea” you sighed “I write it to get my emotions out of my system. When you see so many spirits of the dead caught up because of unfinished business, it makes you more eager to make sure your own business is well and truly buried. I don’t write poetry for it to be good”

Larissa parked the car in front of the weathervane and turned to look at you with a smile “maybe one day, perhaps you’ll allow me to be the judge, of wether it is good, or wether it is not. However, I can not imagine it would be anything other than positively striking”

Larissa opened the car door for you once again and this time took your hand as you stepped out, like a princess who needed protecting. Her act of chivalry made you laugh to which she said “I have to ensure a fair lady’s safety when she has ridden in my chariot” she put on a stupid voice and you rolled your eyes before getting a little confident “the only fair lady I see here is the one stood right in front of me”

The principal was taken aback for a moment, shocked at your display of flattery but then appreciating this, linked her arm in yours and together you walked into the weathervane.

[pillowdrawz]

Still no ?

Monster high x Monster prom Fanfic fck it Imma start it again - smh.

(Btw I Headcanon Damien he acts like doesn't want Makeup/Being a hair dresser but in reality he is secretly fanboying over the girls in Monster high style and hair)

[veeswift]

my night was...a shit! i couldn't watch the movie i wanted, the mall was fck crowded, everything i liked was too expensive and to get worse...my mom's phone AND mine for some unknown reason got without internet to take an uber back home! we spent 1 hour to be able to come back calling everyone we knew...

to get EVEN worse...i've been sneezing too much on the last 2 days and when i came back from gym today i was feeling more tired than usual (my legs were hurting a bit) and the mastermind here had a great idea of wearing high heels boots for WALKING on a HUGE mall for nearly 3 HOURS! i'm already at home, exhausted, my legs are really dead, took off my makeup and i'm wrapped on my blanket (and i still need to shower 😭)

[a-typical]

I was in a medical subreddit the other day and a doctor said if a patient claimed he was in severe pain but was scrolling on his phone when he came in then he wasn't in pain and wasn't getting anything stronger than Tylenol. I don't understand how that proves anything? Sometimes you're waiting thirty minutes or more and you have to distract yourself with something. Sometimes you have to respond to a text or cancel an appointment. Maybe you're looking up something to discuss with your doctor. I do that a lot.

Maybe you don't look your best. It's a "no bones day". You couldn't shower. Your clothes are wrinkled. You spilled some tea on your shirt this morning and you don't even realize, but even if you did you wouldn't give a flying fck today because it hurts. You can't be bothered to smile or do the pretend social niceties. You're just grumpy. Now you just look unkempt, dirty, and rude. Ya surly bastard. Tylenol for you. You must be a Poor. Poors don't deserve kindness.

Maybe you go out of your way to shower, dress nicely, put on makeup, do your hair, make yourself look well put together and presentable. You are sober and in control of your life and your chronic pain. You are precise in every word used and movement of your body. You don't even bring your phone inside the building. You're obviously faking. Tylenol for you.

I have talked about appearance and chronic pain doctors so many times with my therapist. We've tried social experiments together. Would they be called social experiments? Idk. For example, I've worn specifics outfits on purpose to elicit a desired response to see if it would, things like that. Or I would manipulate conversations in certain directions by saying key words or phrases. It was... disheartening. Oh! I'm in the midst of a legal battle and I've gone from very good private insurance to medicaid because I currently cannot work and the difference in the way I'm treated by the same medical personnel is absolutely astounding. They are NOT nice to the Poors.

[rowan-guerrins]

doing your line of durin uquiz and "low opacity eyebrows" FCK I have questions about those like... did the makeup department run out of eyebrow pencils ?? theyre so wide but so sparse ??? I am ConfusedTM

HI I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN YOU SENT THIS BUT I'M ONLY SEEING IT NOW AND. LITERALLY. OH MY GOD. I THINK ABOUT THIS SO MUCH.

iirc the eyebrows are part of all the prosthetics they used (side note i love how teletubby-esque the dwarf ears look before they put the wigs on). and like. not only are they weirdly thin for how large they are. they are INCONSITENT. sometimes they give thorin a brow pencil and sometimes they don't! and sometimes they have lighting/effects that make them look MORE sparse (and not necessarily within reason). also they're much lighter than his hair color (understandable) AND his beard color (this is what gets me).

give him a fucking anastasia dipbrow or something damn.

[rhazimpulsivelyposts]

I don’t understand why btches be so catty 🤣 like it’s cool if she doesn’t like what we are doing but why does she have to attack my appearance and give me a weird nickname 🤣

You sound insecure babe 💁🏻‍♀️

I love women, until they say weird catty shit like “I don’t need to wear makeup” and “her hair looks weird”

It’s cool if his friends don’t like me, I don’t interact with them 🤣. I’m the cool older btch who rides a motorcycle with a hot body and her own house that he gets to come over and fck as much as he wants.

I don’t really like his political views, but he’s not here to talk, he’s here to look pretty and touch me.

You can not like me all you want but he’s the one agreeing to the terms and conditions of our fun arrangement. I enjoy him 🥰 or at least the him that he is when he’s in my house .