#white ball pendant

[casetagram]

Contemporary Home Office - Home Office An illustration of a modern home studio with a large built-in desk and white walls.

[fastfoodcrimewave]

Home Office Studio Large modern built-in desk in a carpeted home studio with white walls but no fireplace

[bulletjournaling101]

Home Office Studio

Large modern built-in desk in a carpeted home studio with white walls but no fireplace

[polymorphen]

Home Office in Cheshire Large modern built-in desk in a carpeted home studio with no fireplace.

[meganlovesyou56]

Home Office Built-In

[heckyeahdeathnote]

Transitional Kitchen in St Louis With a farmhouse sink, blue cabinets, granite countertops, white backsplash, subway tile backsplash, stainless steel appliances, an island, and shaker cabinets, this large transitional galley kitchen photo has a medium tone wood floor.

[comatosebunny09]

soft kitty, warm kitty [ one ] | sylus

— summary: the one where the adorable stray cat you take in is not all that he appears to be. — cw: silliness, fluff, slight injury and blood mention, shapeshifting, hybrid au, self-indulgent af — now playing: carousel - evgeny grinko

There was this pretty stray kitty you’d been feeding and playing with outside your job for three or so months. 

At first, it wasn’t your biggest fan. It spat, hissed, and swiped at you whenever you got too close—you learned to carry band-aids in your bag from thereon. But it still quietly nibbled on the food you left out when you were at a safe distance. You made a point to refill its bowls each time you came to work. Started leaving a cardboard box with a solar-powered heating pad outside to help it battle the glacial nights that often befell the city. 

Eventually, it grew accustomed to you. With baby steps, it came closer and closer each day, sometimes perching itself on the bench you sat on during your lunch or smoke breaks to keep you company. With time, it allowed you to pet it. Its ivory fur was surprisingly soft beneath the street sludge and grime it accumulated throughout the time you knew it. It also had striking, scarlet eyes you brushed off as a genetic mutation. Plenty of weird animals inhabited the city, so an uncommon eye color wasn’t particularly unsettling. 

The adorable stray only allowed you to touch it, reverting to its initial attitude when your coworkers got too close. It seemed to specifically take a liking to you, bunting its little cranium against your hand and ankles, marking you with its scent, grooming you with its barbed tongue, and purring like the low rumble of a Mustang. 

Finally, you decided to catch it. You noticed a red, crusted ring adorning its tiny ankle. It must’ve been injured. You weren’t sure how long it would survive on the streets before infection set in, and your caring instincts were screaming at you to save it. 

So, you did.

It was surprisingly easy to lure the little guy into a cat carrier with treats. It crawled into the bag effortlessly, almost as if it wanted to be rescued. That afternoon, you took it to the vet. They cleaned its foot, gave you cream and antibiotics to ward off infection, updated its shots—the whole nine yards. 

It had also been revealed to you that your feline friend was a boy. The vet offered to neuter him, but you staved it off, promising to return later. You could barely afford the bill he racked up from his treatment alone.

With a warm smile, you cradled the carrier, holding your new companion in your lap as you rode the subway. The pretty, sedated feline purred nonstop on the commute home. 

It took some time to adjust. Of course, you hadn’t expected his transition to succeed overnight. 

When you gave him his first bath, he wasn’t the happiest camper. He adorned your arms with angry, red streaks to illustrate his discontent. His coat was lustrous and white beneath the grime and fleas. And though he was initially a hissing, snooty ball of fluff following his bath, he purred continuously when he curled up beside you that night in your bed, seemingly grateful to be off the street.

You find with time that old habits die hard.

You bought him a red leather collar to compliment his eyes. With it came a bell and pendant, and your address was carved into it. The little guy loved to slip out of your apartment at night, often returning to the streets he was so accustomed to. He always came back, sometimes days after disappearing. He brought you little presents, ranging from dead mice to shiny, crimson gems that looked like they could’ve been worth a fortune. Snowball, as you had fondly named him, was truly a marvel. He was adjusting to domestic life well, but you didn’t stifle him when he wanted to spend his nights perusing the city and stirring up little cat mischief.

You were grateful for the company. You’d been living in the city for about a year, having relocated to its heart for your job. You didn’t have any family in the area, so you relied heavily on your coworkers for social interaction. Otherwise, you were on your own. 

It was pleasant to have a little fur ball bouncing around your home, knocking things off your dresser, shacking up in your pantry, or hiding under your dining table, ready to attack your ankles. He brought excitement to your otherwise humdrum life, keeping you on your toes while curling up at your feet, expressing his gratitude for everything you’d done for him thus far. 

You were content despite your solitude, looking forward to what your furry companion had in store for you each day.

You awaken to sunbeams coloring the space behind your eyelids. To the melody of birds chirping and cars occasionally easing by on the street. 

A quiet smile rounding your lips, you reach beside you to pet through familiar tufts of white. Snowball routinely curls up next to your head on the pillow when you sleep. You haven’t yet opened your eyes, so you’re a little caught off guard when his fur feels slightly shorter than usual. 

Still, you wear a smile as you fondly coo at your kitty, your voice rough with sleep. He doesn’t purr in response, which is strange given his purr motor’s always been broken. He never knows when to stop. Perhaps he doesn’t feel well today? 

Cautiously, you pry your eyes open, your vision blurry from the sun's rays. Through the haze, you ingest a familiar wash of stark white. Your eyesight gradually corrects, and you can discern shapes and colors. Upon taking in the scene beside you, you stiffen, your silly little smile frozen in place.

On the other side of your bed, where Snowball would usually be roosted, quietly waiting for you to stir from your slumber, lies a tan stretch of skin. Recognizable red eyes watch you beneath short, swept lashes, blinking sluggishly, a humored cant to pink-petaled lips. 

Reality slowly trickles in. There is very much a warm-blooded man beside you in place of your darling feline. Your smile melts away, traded for something of confusion. And once you’ve fully processed the moment, you do what any logical person would do given this situation: you scream.

The strange man beside you winces, a searing, heavy hand shooting out to cover your mouth. Your voice dies in the back of your throat, and the stranger takes you in with mild irritation donning his features.

“Must you be so noisy?” he grouses, the rough slide of his voice furling in your stomach. You blink owlishly at him, his hand still clamped over your mouth. 

As the adrenaline spuming through your body tempers, and you’ve taken more time to breathe and assess your situation, you fully observe the intruder.  And with a mixture of horror and confusion, you intake a familiar set of ivory, tufted ears twitching atop his head.

Again, you let your instincts guide you, and you do what one would typically do in this situation: you reach out to tweak said ears, confirming the familiar glide of silken fur beneath your fingertips. The stranger sucks in a breath, jerking away from your prodding. He fixes you with an iron gaze that pierces straight through to your soul. A look you’re all too familiar with, Snowball having pinned you with it at random times throughout your day.

You scream again, the sound of it muffled behind the meatiness of the stranger’s palm. Only, this is no stranger.

Is this—is this Snowball?

[planetbabel]

Transitional Bathroom - Bathroom Example of a small transitional kids' bathroom with wallpaper, shaker cabinets, a two-piece toilet, gray walls, an undermount sink, quartz countertops, white countertops, and a built-in vanity. The room also has a blue floor and a single sink.

[queenmycrofts]

London Living Room

[a-d-nox]

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

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© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[hanasnx]

DATE NIGHT — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, terry mcginnis, talon.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: for @xstarkillerx and his date night prompt ノ features indyfied (potentially ooc) tim drake. WARNINGS: drug mentions: weed, acid ノ suggestive content: dancing, grinding ノ ooc tim drake perhaps.

✩ BRUCE WAYNE

outfit(s) ¡! ❞

Black turtleneck; ghurka pants; versace black leather belt; calatrava watch; loafers or chairman dress lace-ups; ballston merino gray wool socks.

location(s) ¡! ❞

He's a versatile dater, he can make any scene his scene: club, bar, concert, dinner. He's already a VIP member there with a table he owns, not to mention a proud shareholder. He can get you backstage, he knows the performer personally because they're a close friend. He's got a lot of ins places, which makes dating easy and frequent.

✩ DICK GRAYSON

outfit(s) ¡! ❞

Expensive: black t-shirt; grand seiko watch; a single stainless steel huggie earring; figaro 5mm silver chain; hopsack wide leg pants; chelsea boots; cavalli black leather belt; worn quarter length white socks.

Casual: he keeps the jewelry and t-shirt; loose fitted jeans; leather lace up boots.

location(s) ¡! ❞

His expensive dates are nice restaurants. Casual are much more frequent and range from the rare fast food stop to the movies. He's not above dancing and grinding with you at the club. Gym dates are easy, but that requires a different wardrobe.

✩ JASON TODD

outfit(s) ¡! ❞

Cargo joggers; carhartt black webbing belt; beat-up black leather biker jacket; off white t-shirt or long sleeve; alphaforce duty boots; crew length black socks; silver cross chain and he doesn't really know why he wears it; frayed leather band bracelets on one wrist; silver band rings; ear cuffs; sometimes a ratty red ball cap to keep his hair out of his face.

location(s) ¡! ❞

Public dates are very rare. Movies, or spending time at the bookstore or library with a coffee and a seat, cafés, delis. Mostly at home having a movie night or a nap.

✩ TIM DRAKE

outfit(s) ¡! ❞

Old skool black vans or vans checkerboard slip ons; mismatched holed quarter length socks; dark wash wide leg jeans; graphic t-shirt of something he's never heard of; black grommet belt; skinny hair ties and falling apart string friendship bracelets and rubber wristbands on his wrists; leather string coin pendant necklace; cartilage and first and seconds ear piercings.

location(s) ¡! ❞

Videogames at home: couch co-ops like mortal combat, mario kart, overcooked, wii sports resort, or portal 2. Ordering in everything from pizza to sushi. Popping acid and/or smoking. Keeping up with a show together, movie nights. Hanging out on the roof to watch the stars.

✩ TERRY McGINNIS

outfit(s) ¡! ❞

Brown chelsea boots; black split neckline t-shirt; washed patch pockets on dark cuffed jeans; joe rocket classic leather motorcycle jacket; timberland belt.

location(s) ¡! ❞

Clubs are his best bet because of his unusual schedule, but a fancier dinner or two is on the table as a rare and occasional treat. Also running errands together.

✩ TALON

outfit(s) ¡! ❞

Suede brown blazer; hopsack wide leg pants; white or black turtleneck; chairman dress lace-ups; quarter length black socks; burgundy leather gloss belt; silver cross chain.

location(s) ¡! ❞

Will not go out in public. Any dinners will be at your place if any actually take place. He's prone to disappearing.

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[dwaekkicidal]

The Meeting

˚ʚPerv!Emo!Han Jisung x Cutesy!Fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Based off of this ask.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.9k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: told from his pov, jisung is a huge perv (lowkey a creep but we dont talk about that), public masturbation(m), exhibitionism, kinda iconifying? (f)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: Italics are Han's thoughts! also the picture is just a reference for the outfit i had in mind :) Part 2 maybe coming out this weekend

The Incidents Masterlist

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

It's Jisung's English Composition class. He sits at the farthest back table on his own, tapping away at his laptop as the teacher discusses some concept he couldn't care less about. He hears some ruckus past his airpods, but ignores it in favor of listening to the music that's playing. That is, until, a figure covered in pink and white stands directly behind his screen. It's very obvious that the person is looking at him, but he tries to ignore it hoping that they will just go away.

It's not until the person's hand reaches out and waves in front of his screen that he finally looks up. As his eyes trail up the person's body he slowly realizes who it is. When their eyes meet, it finally clicks. Y/N L/N. The popular girl who is friends with "everybody" and dresses in short, short skirts with thigh highs and her stupid Hello Kitty pendant necklace that falls perfectly between her boobs. It should be my face there.

His eyes move to the top of her head, glancing at the fluffy pink scrunchie that holds her hair together in two pigtails. Then they move lower, catching her shiny eyes that are risen at the edges from her smile. And- oh. Her smile.. The one that is created from those pretty plump lips covered in a pinkish-red tinted gloss. He starts to picture what they would look like wrapped around his-

But then she's tilting her head and mouthing words at him. Oh, fuck that's right. His hands bolt up to his ears, yanking the earbuds out and completely forgetting about the music that bleeds out. He holds them away from his ears and meets her eyes again, almost moaning out loud when she bites her lip bashfully and speaks up again. Her silky sweet voice finally meets his ears and he can feel his dick twitch in his jeans.

"My group was being loud so we got separated for the rest of the semester.. Is that seat taken?" Her short charm-clad acrylic nails catch his attention for a moment as she points to the seat occupied by his bag. Fuck.. what he would give to see them also wrapped around- Ok ok calm the hell down Jisung.

"Uh.. yeah?" His voice comes out pathetic and he almost explodes from embarrassment when he realizes that he answered the wrong way. The corners of her shiny lips turn downwards and she goes to take a step back. But somewhere in that horny brain of his, he grows the balls to shoot out his hand to grab her wrist, "Wait! Sorry, I meant it's not taken. It's my bag. Let me move it out of your way. Oh- fuck sorry I didn't mean to grab you all of the sudden I-"

He starts to ramble, his pink cheeks jiggling as he desperately moves to throw his bag on the floor. She giggles at the sight and he malfunctions, accidentally dropping his bag as he looks up at her dumbfounded.

She makes her way around the table and he gets a whiff of her vanilla-strawberry perfume as she sits. His dick twitches again in his jeans and he inhales again, then he looks over at her from the corner of his eye. Her nails clack against her laptop as she pulls it out and opens it. Of course it's fucking covered in Sanrio stickers. Hello Kitty stickers being the most of them. He doesn't think he's been so envious of a 2D pixelated character in his life until the day he laid eyes on her.

Her hair bounces as she turns to him, those pretty lips taking all his attention again as he watches them move with every word. "My name's Y/N L/N. You're... Han! Right?" He nods slowly, no longer trusting his voice in the slightest. How does she know my name?!? I don't even talk to anybody in this class.. "Yeah.. Han Jisung."

She smiles widely, then those nails are moving around in his field of view again. This time her hands go up to her necklace, fiddling with it as she leans back into her chair and her shiny lips part again. "It's nice to finally meet you, by the way. We had statistics together last semester, but we didn't get the chance to talk at all." 

"Oh. You remember that class?" He grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, zoning out after she nods. He suddenly remembered the presentation for the final his group had to do in that class, And he vividly remembers the hard-on he had during it. It was only because of her and that stupid sundress she had on that day. Fuck you mother nature for the summer heat that day..

When her eyes turn to the whiteboard, he looks down at his crotch and rolls his eyes when he sees an evident bulge. He pulls the hem of his sweater down to cover it up and looks up at the clock hopefully, but is quickly shut down. God damn it.. It’s only noon and this class ends at 3:30.. I'm so fucked.

He gets through the next 2 hours before his hard on becomes too much to handle. His hand sneaks from the touchpad to his crotch, palming it lightly to relieve some pressure. Just real quick, he swears. It hurts like a bitch, so just this for now until I can go home. But all too easily he gets addicted to the feeling and pushes harder until he’s full on stroking himself through the fabric.

Shit.. she won't notice.. right? A sudden movement in the corner of his eye grabs his attention and he stops like a deer in headlights, in fear that she already figured out what he was doing and that he would get told off for being a freak in front of the entire class.

He glances over, watching for a moment as she instead mindlessly twirls her hair. Eyes still completely forward and focused on the professor. Then his eyes trail a little lower. Her lips are puckered in a cute pout. She eventually un-puffs her cheeks in favor of poking her tongue out slightly, in what he can only assume is focus as she types away at her laptop.

He watches for a few more seconds before slowly trailing all the way down, taking in her outfit and every curve of her body that he can see. When his eyes finally meet her thighs, he thinks his eyes are gonna pop out of his head. The skirt, that was already too short to be appropriate for a place of education, was ridden so far up her thighs that he swears if she just spread her legs even the slightest he could get a glance of her panties. Speaking of her thighs, the plush, bare skin there looks so soft. So biteable.. He licks his lips at the sight.

Before he realizes what’s happening, his eyes peek around to make sure nobody is in the neighboring tables. Then his hand moves on its own, sneaking out of the arm of his thankfully oversized sweater and sliding over his shirt to his pants. He clears his throat to cover up the noise of his jeans unbuckling and unzipping, and then his hand finally slides into his boxers. It was a tight fit but god was he going to make it work.

He strokes himself slowly, angling his dick upwards in hopes that the sweater would cover up the movements. He looks down for a few seconds and bites his lip, biting back a victorious smile as the sweater does just that. 

Feeling a little more relaxed, he allows his eyes to flutter closed. Immediately images of her flood his mind. Images of those pretty, glossy lips wrapping around his dick, those pretty big eyes looking up at him all watery while he shoves his dick down her throat. Images of her pretty pink nail-clad fingers wrapped tightly around his dick. He starts to stroke himself a little faster, imagining that it's her hand instead of his. Fuck. Now images of her jerking him off in the middle of class fill his head. 

His entire body shivers at the thought and he leans forward, resting the elbow on his free arm on the table as he speeds up again. He glances down once more to make sure he’s hidden well, then sighs a little too loudly. He tilts his head down slightly, pulling his hoodie down to cover his face. He knows damn well how expressive his face can be and if that is what gives him away, he would never forgive himself. ‘M so close….

He basks in the pleasure for about a minute before a hand on his shoulder startles him. His hand immediately stops. His eyes shoot open and he snaps his head to his left, looking at the girl as if he’s disoriented. The face he was just fantasizing about looks at him worriedly, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted.

“Are you okay, Hannie?” His hand subconsciously squeezes his dick at the sound of her hushed voice and the new nickname. He breathes heavily for a moment, stuttering slowly as he racks his brain for the best excuse he could think of when she speaks up again. “Do you have a headache or something? You look like you’re sick, and your face is all sweaty!” She giggles at the last part and he watches as her eyes trace a drop of sweat down his forehead to his chin.

He nods his head, gulping as his hand slowly begins its movements again. She mocks his nod, eyebrows still furrowed. He feels her hand caress his biceps through the sweater. She means it in nothing but a soothing way, he’s sure of it. But the warmth of her hand on his skin after the thoughts he just had only made him twitch in his grasp.

He whines and leans forward, resting his arm flat on the table and resting his head on the fat of his forearm. To anybody else looking it seems like he was sleeping, and the way her hand moves to skim his back, also soothingly, just encourages him to move his hand again.

Her worried voice is suddenly close to his ear as her hand slows to a stop, and as his own hand continues to move along his length. “If you want me to stop, let me know please. I’m super touchy and I just wanna help.” His eyes roll into his skull and she can see his head faintly shake ‘no’. “It’s f-fine. I don’t mind it.” He misses out on seeing her smile as she hums and moves her hands once again, this time more confidently and down his spine.

It doesn’t take him very long to build up his orgasm. The feeling of her nails raking down his back, the imagery of her below him that floods his senses, and the feeling of his tip rubbing along his boxers join together to create one of the craziest orgasms he thinks he’s ever had. He moves his head slightly and latches onto his forearm, biting down roughly to stop himself from moaning out loud as he cums right then and there.

He strokes himself through it, waiting until he feels the cum stop spilling out his dick to pull his hand out and release his poor arm. He softens against the wet spot in his underwear and desperately wipes the excess that got onto his hands on his shirt. Fuck.. I just washed these too.

The post-nut clarity hits too fast, the charmed nails that are still raking up and down his back make sure of that. When he peeks out to look at the girl, he watches her type with her free hand, eyes focused on her laptop screen. And completely unaware of what he just did to the thought of her.

His now unoccupied arm wiggles through the sleeve of his sweater, meeting his other arm on the desk as he rests against it.

This is gonna be a long semester.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08 @grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog

[rayhalloffame]

Want to be coddled by artashi because you’re their little baby

In the mornings Tashi helps you get ready for the day, whether that be for Art’s match or running errands. She sits you in front of the vanity mirror and brushes through your wet hair. When there’s a particularly tough knot she pulls on that makes you wince she’s rubbing your scalp and rushing out an apology. She likes your hair pulled back so she can see your face, Art likes it down so he can run his fingers through it when you cuddle up to him. She settles for a half up and half down style today, ponytail tied neatly with a string bow. She admires you in the mirror while you’re distracted on your phone, one knee pulled against your chest, still stifling yawns from tiredness. Her eyes drag along the white lace set you have on, catch a second at the angle she gets of your clothed cunt. She considers letting you walk around without proper clothes all day but knows no one will get anything done, so she presses a kiss to your shoulder to let you know she’s finished. When you look up you smile at her and her heart melts. Her hand passes lovingly across your waist when you leave her to get dressed.

Art’s making breakfast and Tashi is sitting at the counter sipping coffee when you come out dressed in a tight little athletic dress that sits perfectly on your body. They both glance up at you when they hear your soft approaching footsteps. Art grins immediately, offering an arm for you to snuggle under from where he stands at the stove cooking eggs. When you reach him and attach yourself to his side, he reaches a hand to your jaw to tilt your face up toward his. He gives you a proper kiss, then a series of quick presses of your mouths that make you smile against his lips. “Good morning, baby. You look pretty,” he compliments. You blush and put your head back down to rest your cheek on his bare chest, you thank him. He finishes cooking breakfast with you attached to his hip, gently rocking you back and forth every now and again.

You go shopping and they buy you everything you want even when you insist it’s too much. You make sure to give them fashion shows in the dressing rooms to show your appreciation. If you kiss Tashi a little too long in your stall and an attendant comes to check on you, it’s no one’s business. Art carries the bags in one strong hand and when your pace struggles to keep up with Tashi’s quicker one, he guides you with a press of his wide palm to the small of your back. Sometimes Art gets stopped by fans and you start to fidget anxiously with the pendant necklace that hangs by your collarbones or the single ring on your right hand. Tashi always notices, draws you closer to her and settles you by smoothing down the loose hairs around your face.

Of course, a day is wasted without some training. Art convinces you to join him hitting balls that Tashi serves from across the court. They correct your technique a few times, and when Art catches on that you’re messing up the same swing just to feel his hands on you, he laughs, swats playfully at your butt with his racket. You’re sweaty and spent afterwards, letting Tashi wipe the moisture from your hairline and exposed back before you get in the car to go home.

The night routine is a little more challenging, especially after you’ve eaten and helped Tashi put away leftovers and clean the dishes. You’re so full and tired, how could you ever move from where you’re laid out on the couch? Your head is cushioned in Tashi’s lap, Art is rubbing your feet, and you retaliate with a whiny, “I want to stay here,” after Art’s ran his fingers up your shin to squeeze your thigh, suggesting you all take a shower and head to bed.

Tashi does fix you with a look then. She hates whining. Your cheeks flame with embarrassment and you’re sitting up almost immediately. The shower is completely for hygiene sake except when you turn your back to the water and see Art rubbing his hands down the front of Tashi’s body, mouth pressed to the back of her neck. You’re tired and they’re beautiful, so you’re happy to watch for a few moments. Tashi reaches her hand to you and pulls you into her, kisses you delicately with a hand cupped to your jaw.

Art dries you off with a plush towel afterwards, puts the blow dryer on cool to get most of the dampness out of your hair. You’re falling asleep where you stand, arms hugging yourself across your exposed chest, because of Art’s skilled fingers running through your hair and down the sides of your neck to get different angles with the dryer. Similar to Tashi, he tells you he’s done with a kiss to the side of your face, gives you a gentle pat to your backside to send you off to Tashi.

She’s waiting for you with cotton sleep shorts and one of Art’s oversized white tees. She lotions your body, presses light kisses to your joints after applying gentle pressure to relieve some of the soreness from your day. When you’re all finally settled in bed they’ve got you between them. Your head rests on Tashi’s shoulder and she traces her fingers across your scalp. Art’s pressed along your back, his arm thrown across your waist. His hand finds its way under the shirt you’re wearing and settles against your chest. His other arm is arched above your head so he can reach Tashi. He strokes her hair as well. You’re asleep within minutes. Not even your dreams are this sweet.

[princessbrunette]

desperately need to call boxer!rafe ‘my champion’ after winning a major fight !!!!

‘₊‧꒰ა 🩷 ໒꒱ ‧₊’

rafe thought wearing a medal around his neck was tacky and lame. he didn’t like doing it, he didn’t need a piece of red white and blue stripe dangling from him for him to know who he was inside that ring. but you liked it, said it made you proud to see it — so for that reason only he’d come home with it on, just to let you fawn over him.

that gold medal pendant swings in your face now, bordering on hitting you as he thrusts into you — his long body all but taking up the majority of your large bed which left you crumpled like a pretzel in the centre beneath him. the sound of his thick shaft punching through your flooded walls was audible, almost embarrassingly so as they could be heard over your repeated whines.

“oh rafe… oh!” you tighten your knees around him.

“keep sayin’ my name like that and i’mma fuck another baby into that cunt, alright? ‘that something you’d want so soon, hmm?” he slides his strong battered hands beneath your back so he could use you like a toy, his grip helping to fuck you on and off his cock.

“whatever you want rafe. j’st wanna— wanna do what you want me to do. my champion.” it just flows out of you naturally and he feels his balls tighten at the way you say it. earlier in his life he’d perhaps struggled with wanting to make people proud — and now you were here just giving him everything he ever wanted. he licks his lips and barks out an emotional laugh as he takes a break from the faster thrusts to grind out something slower.

“champion, huh? should be you wearin’ this stupid thing.” he gestures to the medal that hangs over you as he brings his body closer until it rests on your chest. you twirl the ribbon round your finger as you suck on your bottom lip, brows knitting with a suppressed moan.

“uh-uh.” you refuse softly though your teeth.

“uh-huh,” he argues. “takin’ this dick like a fuckin’ champ. as usual. all credit where it’s due, baby.” he handles you by your hips and gets to work again. “c’mon, take that reward kid. cum on it. yeah, cum on it.”

‘₊‧꒰ა 🩷 ໒꒱ ‧₊’

[niteshade925]

April 13, Xi'an, China, Shaanxi Archaeology Museum/陕西考古博物馆 (Part 4 - Sui and Tang dynasties):

This is another star of the museum, a Tang dynasty (618 - 907 AD) bronze mirror, the back of which is decorated with carved luodian/螺钿 (mother of pearl). Near the edge are various birds, while the inner ring is arranged in a "sunflower" shape. Kinda wish I can see a modern replica of this one without all these marks and discolorations from the passage of time:

A Tang dynasty yupei/玉佩 (jade pendant). Unlike the Western Zhou dynasty yupei in part 2, this type is most definitely supposed to be hung from the waist. This one in particular was one of a set of two (both worn on waist, one on each side), and these were part of the formal wear of first to fifth rank officials during Tang dynasty:

Luo Wanshun's Epitaph/罗婉顺墓志. As mentioned in the first Beilin museum post, ancient Chinese epitaphs have a two-piece structure, consisting of a tablet and the protective covering on top. This is the protective covering on top, with the large inscription identifying this as the epitaph stone of Luo Wanshun, engraved in seal script/zhuanshu/篆书:

And here's the actual body of the epitaph. This particular epitaph was drafted by one of the "Eight Immortals of the Wine Cup"/饮中八仙, Li Jin/李琎 (he was also the nephew of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang/唐玄宗), and the calligraphy was provided by the famous calligrapher Yan Zhenqing/颜真卿:

Tang-era pottery figurines of the Chinese zodiac animals. This set is sadly incomplete, but the way these zodiac animals are partially anthropomorphized is pretty interesting. From left to right, these are tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, sheep, and dog (yep that is a dog head, apparently). Not sure why rabbit and dog figurines are missing their ears though, maybe the ears broke off and are lost?

Sui dynasty (581 - 618 AD) green-glazed boshanlu/博山炉 incense burner. Note the panlong/蟠龙 dragon curled around the base:

Left: Sui dynasty white-glazed ewer with a chicken head-shaped handle. Right: Sui dynasty white-glazed vase. The curves on this one is *chef kiss*

More Sui dynasty white glazed pottery, but the most incredible thing is the white porcelain cup in the middle. The lip of that cup is 1mm (~1/32 in) thick, and the sides are so thin, it's almost see through:

Tang-era sancai/三彩 glazed conjoined flasks that is shaped like a pair of fish. Similar twin-fish motif can be found in numerous traditional Chinese holiday decor, and symbolize auspiciousness, wealth, and surplus--especially surplus, since fish in Chinese (鱼) is pronounced yú, and "surplus" in Chinese (余) is also pronounced yú. This is why the phrase 年年有余 ("may there be a surplus every year") is often paired up with imagery of carps, children holding giant carps, or a twin-fish motif.

Absolutely beautiful Tang-era wall mural of a tiger, which was very sadly damaged over time. But from the pieces left, you can still appreciate the raw power of the tiger captured by these lines:

Another beautiful Tang-era wall mural depicting men on horseback playing "polo", called maqiu/马球 (lit. "horse ball") in Chinese. It's unclear whether the maqiu depicted here originated in China in late Eastern Han dynasty (25 - 220 AD) or was brought to China via the Silk Road at the beginning of Tang dynasty, but anyway this sport was very popular during Tang dynasty, and there were many female players at the time too.

The women of Tang dynasty as depicted by pottery figurines:

A small model of Tang-era triple que/阙 gate towers. Que gate towers first appeared in Western Zhou dynasty (1046 - 771 BC) and have been a part of Chinese architecture ever since. Que gate towers usually come in pairs, one on each side of the gate, and they were used to display status.

A map of Tang dynasty Chang'an city laid on top of the current map of Xi'an city, showing the imperial palace (top center), the East Market/东市 and West Market/西市, and the 108 districts (called fang/坊):

A Tang-era chiwen/鸱吻 (螭吻 is the original name, 鸱吻 is the alternative name, another alternative name is 蚩吻, but the pronunciation remains the same for all three) roof ornament. These are the pairs of horn-shaped pieces on the top of the roof of traditional Chinese architecture. These ornaments are made to represent the Ninth Son of the Dragon, called Chiwen/螭吻, which looks like a dragon-headed fish and has the power to control water, thus it's used in traditional Chinese architecture to ward off fires:

Sui-era gold gilded handle of a stone sarcophagus:

A pottery jar found buried in the tomb of Crown Prince Jiemin/节愍太子 (Li Chongjun/李重俊, son of Emperor Zhongzong of Tang/唐中宗 Li Xian/李显), partially shaped like a pagoda and decorated with various Buddhist motifs such as lotus petals and elephant heads. This is speculated to be a representation of a granary, which would hold grains for the crown prince in the afterlife:

And last but not least, a Sui-era pottery camel bearing sacks that have the imagery of the Greek god of wine Dionysus upon them, which shows the great amount of cultural exchange that took place back then:

[a-major-love]

Night Fever

Pairing - Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader

Summary - Of all people you could have met that fateful night, it had to be him.

Word Count - 1k+

Warnings - MDNI, fem pronouns, mentions of smoking & alcohol, no use of y/n

A/N - I always imagined dancing with Michael was incredibly fun but also probably intimidating. Enjoy!

1977

Spotlights pierced through the haze of smoke filtering the air, beaming down on the partygoers. Sweat rolled off their skin, mingling with the overpowering stench of perfume and cigarettes. The men and women’s eyes twinkled at you, sparkling from pressed glitter. Their bright, painted lips mouthed along to the stream of ABBA lyrics filling the crowded space. The music pouring from the speakers vibrated under your feet. Studio 54 was lively, and terrifying all at once. 

“Friday nights are always the busiest,” your friend – Alicia –  mentioned from beside you. Her stark black hair was pulled into a tight bun, revealing her teal colored eyeshadow. The sequined dress she wore hung off her bronzed shoulders, flecks of glitter dotted her skin. 

You glanced down at the denim jumpsuit you wore, with a thick belt secured around the waist. Somehow, despite the pumps digging into the soles of your feet, you felt mildly underdressed. You scanned the crowd, biting your lip as your eyes swept over the other dancers. 

“Let’s go, birthday girl,” Alicia said, nudging you towards the center of the room. 

You giggled. “I’m just trying to appreciate the atmosphere.” 

“Well, you can go appreciate it out on the dancefloor.” 

She grasped onto your forearm, pushing through the cluster of hot bodies that brushed against you two. You could feel the men’s gazes pass over you, their heavy eyes glancing over your form before looking away. Glasses with golden liquid, and pierced olives swung around you as the people got lost in the music. 

You finally approached the middle of the dance floor, where a bright, glowing disco ball hung above your heads. Alicia broke out into a grin, her pearly white teeth pointed to the ceiling. Her dangled hearings whipped around her face as she began swaying to the music.  

It was initially her idea, at first, to celebrate your birthday at Studio 54. All you knew about the nightclub was that the entrance fee was too expensive, and the line never seemed to ease up. As much as you adored Alicia, you couldn’t find a good reason to stand outside all night – in New York during the spring – hoping to make it inside before the place closed. If there’s one thing you understood about spring in New York, it was how cold the nights could be. 

So, how in the hell she pulled this off, you were sure she would take to her grave. 

You laughed, watching her bounce around, throwing her head back. Acting as if a plethora of eyes weren’t on her. You swayed your hips, letting your eyes close as the sweet sounding harmonies of the Bee Gees washed over you. It felt as if everybody on the dance floor was in sync, breathing and moving in time with each other. 

Sharing one heart, one pulse to the music. 

Your body moved and rocked, becoming bewitched by the entrancing tune. 

“Excuse me-

You suddenly bumped into someone, startling both you and the stranger. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, whipping around to face them. A pair of oak, brown eyes crinkled at you as the strange man chuckled to himself. 

“It’s alright,” he assured, adjusting his blazer. “You’re not a bad dancer, you know.” 

You playfully grinned at him, “Have you been watching me dance?”

“I – uh didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered.

You scanned the man, taking in his wide doe eyes and large afro currently dusted with glossy confetti. A gold pendant rested between the dip of his chest, a sliver of deep brown skin peaking through the few undone buttons.

Somewhere, in the back corners of your mind, familiarity tugged at your brain. 

“Have we met before?” you inquired, furrowing your brows. 

“No, we haven’t,” he answered, perhaps a little too quickly. 

You opened your mouth to reply, when he stuck his hand out. 

“Is it alright if we danced together?” he asked.

Heat creeped up your face, as you took his inviting hand – his skin was silky smooth and warm in your grasp. He softly smiled at you, as he tugged your form closer to him. Swiftly, he twirled you around, giggling at your reaction as you nearly stumbled from the sudden movement. You caught yourself in time, taking both his hands as you grooved to the deep bass coming from the speakers. 

His eyes remained trained on you, as if analyzing every motion and gesture you made. The music enveloped you two, as the dance floor fell away, along with the people surrounding it. The club was nothing but a blur of color, as the hot white lights radiated down on you two. The music pulsed through your skin, reverberating against your ribcage. The sweet, lingering scent of nicotine floated through the air. It was as if the dancefloor came alive from under your feet suddenly, a pulsating heartbeat belonging to the untamable beast known as music. His hands never left yours, as he pulled you into his side, before going into a spin. 

You watched, in fascination. “You’re not a bad dancer yourself.”

He bashfully smiled. “Well, I’ve been dancing for most of my life.”

“Do you do it for a career, or something?” “...You could say that.”

He twirled you again, interrupting whatever train of thought you were processing. 

The night went on endlessly it seemed, as if time had temporarily stopped. Yet, the crowd of Studio 54 never broke off. A stream of guests revolved in and out of the space, some dressed in dripping jewels that outshined the hanging disco ball or extravagant outfits that felt expensive to even look at. It felt as if you were in a lion's mouth, a wet, breathing cage waiting to clamp down on you. 

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around your frame.

“Let’s get going, my feet are killing me,” Alicia groaned, already tugging you away. 

“Wait!” The man called out, feeling your hand loosen in his grip. Alicia squinted at him, trying to make out his features through the alcohol induced brain fog. 

“You look a little familiar...” she muttered.

“I’ll meet you outside,” you explained, nudging your friend back. Alicia glanced over at you, glossy lips pouting at your urgency. She finally caved, rolling her eyes as she knowingly nodded and began to maneuver her way through the crowd. 

You turned to face him. “I had a really great time, uh-

“Michael,” he introduced, squeezing your hand. 

Had he been holding it the entire time?

“Well, it was really fun dancing with you, Michael.”

His eyes flickered between yours, as if weighing something in his mind. Michael eventually sighed, reluctantly loosening his grip and letting your hand fall to your side. 

“I hope we get to do it again, sometime,” he said. With wistful smile growing on his lips. 

You returned the smile, clenching your hand from the sudden loss of warmth. Without another word, you turned and made your way to the exit. 

The bumping music followed you out the double doors and onto the bustling street of New York City’s nightlife. A breeze brushed against your bare arms, biting at your skin. Alicia was leaning against a car, impatiently tapping her foot. Her eyes finally landed on you, wearing a strange expression you couldn’t quite place. 

“Girl, I have several questions,” she started, opening the car door for you. 

You snorted. “Ask me when it’s not past midnight.” 

She sidled into the passenger seat, as you started up the engine. The bright, white lights of Studio 54 reflected off the hood of your car. 

You could still feel his presence, even during the drive home.