#he's the he's so fucking stupid taking my clothes off meme

[khaotunq]

Ryu's Adventures In... dramatic brooding. First Kanaphan as Ryu (Wake Up Ladies: Very Complicated, 2020).

#first kanaphan #wake up ladies the series #wake up ladies #my edits #my gifs #mine: wake up ladies #mine: ryu #mine: first kanaphan #userjamiec #mushiemaradame #i mean he immediately turns around and suggests a blood sacrifice #then goes to get juice #so make of that what you will #he's a bimbo. straight up. not a himbo. #he's the he's so fucking stupid taking my clothes off meme #truly pure of heart dumb of ass #i love him #he is all of akk's penchant for the dramatic and all of yok's That Sign Won't Stop Me Because I Can't Read #he's so SINCERE #i can't.

[sugawarassoulmate]

no nut november - nov 15

making it halfway isn't so bad...

professor!sugawara & enemies to lovers!kita

word count: 353 & 429

cw: fem!reader, age gap relationship (reader is in their 20s/suga is in his late 30s), college student/professor relationship, oral (f receiving), hate sex, name-calling, minors dni

professor!sugawara

"so you don't want to have sex?" sugawara asks bluntly, confused by the weird challenge you were proposing to him

he's aware of the age gap between you two but it's never really come up before (except from explaining the occasional meme to him)

but when you came into his office to talk about some weird bet you made with your friends, his old man brain couldn't comprehend it.

"we can have sex, i just can't finish," you trail off, probably realizing how dumb you sounded. "i mean, i can just blow you or something."

that makes sugawara look up from the papers he's grading, hazel eyes staring at you once again.

"you can't cum?" he asks, quirking his brown when you nod your head. "what's the point then?"

you try to explain to him that it's a test of endurance, a fun game between your friends.

as you ramble on, sugawara clears the papers off his desk, putting them in a drawer where they wouldn't be tampered with

"are you done?" he asks when you finally take a breath. you nod once more and sugawara gets up and motions for you to sit on his desk.

"kou—professor...," you fix yourself before sugawara could reprimand you, remembering that he doesn't appreciate being called by his first name when the two of you are still on campus.

your words fall of deaf ears with sugawara sitting you down anyways, long fingers reaching for the button of your jeans.

"did you really think i wouldn't let you cum?" sugawara asks, swiftly tugging your pants down your legs. "you think i'd just let you take care of me without returning the favor?"

sugawara crouches before you, pushing your panties to the side to be met with your already wet cunt.

"when have i ever been that selfish?" sugawara's thumb easily finds your clit, making your legs shake and thighs clench. "look at this pretty, pussy. gonna make it cream on my tongue."

sugawara dives in and you're putty in his hands, cumming in a matter of minutes and completely forgetting all about the foolish bet.

enemies to lovers!kita

kita knew what you were trying to do and he wasn't going to fall for it

at least...he's trying his very best not to fall for it

when you heard that kita was thinking about participating in atsumu's dumb bet, you couldn't stop teasing him

"of course atsumu would come up with this," you snorted. "he cries when he gets a crumb of pussy."

but lately kita's noticed you've been trying to get his attention—trying to get him to break

from wearing that perfume he's mentioned somewhat liking in the past to bending down in front of him while wearing the shortest skirt you own

kita is above your tactics...for the most part, ignoring the small surges of pleasure he feels in his crotch

when you ask him to come over, he says yes without thinking

you don't ever invite kita to your place unless it's to fuck but he finds himself sitting on your couch watching a movie

of course, you couldn't let him off that easily as you wore the skimpiest camisole that had your tits practically spilling out

but then you're slightly grazing his arm or leaning over so kita can see down your shirt and it's so stupid.

kita would never fall for that, it's completely beneath him.

he has complete control over his emotions, he has discipline, he's not weak minded

but he's still just a man at the end of the day

"yer so fuckin' annoying," kita says finally, pushing you into the couch cushions and getting on top.

"i know," you smirk, your stupid ego absolutely buzzing

"i fuckin' hate you,"

"i know," you say again as kita tears through both of your clothes to push his cock inside you

kita whispers the most obscene insults in your ear, calling you things he would never say in public but you've royally pissed him off and he shows it by fucking harder than he ever has before

each stroke of his fat cock has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your brain turned to mush

he has you creaming around him but he doesn't let up, fucking you through multiple orgasms

instead of cumming in you like he usually does, kita pulls out at the last moment to jerk himself off, sending hot, thick ropes of his cum on your stomach

your bliss quickly turns to disgust, shoving kita away as you bitch about the mess he left behind

"you're such a dick!" you whine, scurrying over to your bathroom

"i know," kita says, not too far behind you

©sugawarassoulmate 2023 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara smut #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koushi smut #koshi sugawara smut #kita smut #kita x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #kita shinsuke smut #professor!suga #enemies to lovers!kita #no nut november 🍑 #🥀 #🥀suga #🥀kita

[scekrex]

You know who it is, it's ya boy! 🕺

So. Obviously a crack fic, if anyone is wondering - no, I don't smoke pot, I'm just very stupid with dumb, but creative ideas, about Adam, Lute and the reader having a mission given to them from Sera, we're they have to got to the Earth in their human disguises (Of course Adam is just Adam without the mask and brown eyes, because Alex Brightman, fuck yeah) to do some business with some of the governments. What they didn't think of is the fact that when they got their human disguises, they also came with human traits, like being able to get absolutely hammered. Like for angels it would take a lot of alcohol (I'm looking at you Castiel when you drank a whole ass liquor store) to get drunk, but humans have a weaker immune system when it comes to percentages. So Adam the drunkest of them all getting the amazing idea of stealing a shopping cart, a little less drunk reader agreeing and them running off before Lute could stop them, Adam in the cart, reader pushing. In the end they accidentally drove off the sidewalk and launched themselves into the damn brook. Lute panicked before they emerged, laughing their asses off, Adam just started to glide his hands over his clothes as if he wanted to hand wash them. Here cue the meme:

-I'M WASHING ME AND MY CLOTHES

-He's drunk as fuck

-Biiitch, I'm washing me and my clothes 😌

With the "I'm washing me and my clothes" being Adam, "He's drunk as fuck" being Lute and the reader just floating in the water next to Adam wondering what the hell he was doing before catching the vibe and doing the same. Now imagine Sera just wanting to check on them and their progress through that orb in Heaven like during "You didn't know" 😂 Miss girl would face plam so hard her big ass lashes would fly off her face 😂😂😂

Bro. Bro I adore you and I adore your fucking crack prompts, they're my new favorite thing to write. So here ya go babes

Drunk 'n' Nasty

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, use of alcohol, yet another crack fic

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the bar entrance, Adam had already been grabbed by his shirt to keep him from entering the building. “No, Sera explicitly said that we need to get this over with as fast as possible,” the lieutenant spoke in a firm voice as she dragged both you and your husband away from the pub, “So we will finish the job and then straight up head back to heaven.”

You pounded at her, “You’re no fun, c’mon Lute just let us have one drink, in and out in no time.” But the exorcist shook her head and stood her ground, “No. One drink will lead to two and two drinks will lead to you and Adam getting completely wasted.” Adam wiggled out of her grip and slapped the hand she had wrapped around your wrist. Yes, Sera had given you orders, but where was the fun in having human disguises if you weren't able to enjoy the night on earth?

“Oh fucking quit it, danger tits, we all know it will end like that either way,” Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, “Loosen up, bitch.” Lute side eyed the first man critically but eventually gave in with a sigh. She wordlessly stepped aside so the two of you were able to enter the crowded bar and Adam dragged you inside before Lute was able to change her mind again. “Let’s fucking go,” the brunette cheered and sat down at the counter. He patted his thigh as his now brown eyes caught yours, “C’mere babes.” That he didn't need to tell you twice, you closed the small gab that was left between the two of you and sat down on his thigh as the first man ordered two shots of whiskey for the both of you, he knew Lute wouldn't drink, she appeared to be quite tense ever since the three of you had arrived on earth.

Once the drinks were put down in front of you, you immediately reached for the tiny shot glass and downed it in one go by tilting your head back, Adam's eyes were locked on your throat as he was able to see how you swallowed the liquid, a nasty grin appeared on his lips as he leaned in a little closer to you, “Fuck, how often will I get that view tonight?” “Depends,” you grinned back at him, the pleasant yet unusual burn of alcohol made you shiver slightly, “How often do ya wanna see it, pretty boy?” Adam leaned in even closer until his lips brushed softly against your ear and his hot breath hit your face, “I don't think I will ever get enough of it.” And with that he downed his own shot just to slam the empty glass on the counter and ask the bartender for another round.

“Sir,” Lute had managed to get through the crowd somehow and was now standing behind you, “That was your one shot, we'll leave now.” Adam looked at you, it was so weird to see the first man with dark brown eyes instead of bright golden ones, but it was something you could get used to, they seemed honest, not that his golden eyes were serving you lies but the brown orbs just felt different, more personal. “Lute, do us a fucking favor and find some dude who will pull that massive fucking stick outta your ass so we can enjoy ourselves for a little while,” your husband shared his opinion on Lute's behavior towards the both of you, then he turned around again to focus on the drinks on the counter. The first man raised his glass, you did the same and in union you purred, “To us.” Another shot was swallowed and you slowly felt your cheeks heating up because of the alcohol. Oh how you had missed the burning liquor.

“I will regret this,” Lute grumbled as the exorcist sat down on the stool next to you. Your eyes beamed at her and you were quick to order three cocktails, visibly happy that she had decided to join you. “Just because I'm sitting down doesn't mean I will drink with you, it's enough of a burden that you two are,” she hissed and eyed the neon pink drink suspiciously as it was placed in front of her. “Don’t be such a princess, it's just one drink,” Adam commented and pushed the pretty looking drink a little closer to Lute. She however, simply passed it to some chick that was passing by. And that was the moment you chose to ignore the woman for the rest of the evening. If she was fine with staying sober and doing as stupid fucking Sera said, so be it, you and Adam however had other plans.

It didn't really take long for the alcohol to actually punch you two in the face though, heaven offered no such things as alcohol, weed, crack or nicotine so the tolerance bar for Adam and you was basically on the floor. And that was probably part of the reason why the two of you had one hell of a blast running away from Lute.

And then Adam spotted the supermarket that wasn't too far away from the pub so he made quick work of picking you up bridal style and then he was on his way to investigate whatever it was that was going on there. “What now, big guy, are we taking off together? Away from stick-in-the-ass-Lute and go-fuck-yourself-Sera?” you chuckled as the brunette continued to carry you over to the empty parking lot. “Damn fucking right, babes,” Adam agreed. The taller man let you down once your destination was reached and he immediately saw something new he wanted to investigate.

The fucking shopping carts.

So you tagged along, mainly to make sure Adam wouldn't hurt himself but also because you were curious too. You weren't quite sure how, but somehow Adam had managed to disconnect the metal chain from the cart, the first man was pulling it away from the others and as soon as it stopped moving, he climbed in it to sit down, “What are you waiting for, bitch, fucking push me!” Adam pointed to the street.

Lute had just managed to catch up to you two drunken asses as you rushed past her. You pushed the shopping cart as fast as physically possible, “Fuck yeah,” Adam yelled and threw his fists in the air, that man was having the time of his life - or well, existence. Either way it was fun, you two were having fun.

Lute on the other hand regretted every single decision that had led her to his exact moment, if she could she would punch her past self for even agreeing to coming with you. Fuck what had she been thinking, that you two would take this serious for once? Yeah, dead fucking wrong.

It was all fun and games until you stumbled over your own feet, lost control of the cart and pushed it right into the brook that was besides the sidewalk you had been running on. Your alcohol clouded brain didn't even think of letting go and therefore you fell with Adam. Instead of being bummed about it, you thought of this as an upgrade though, because now you were floating on water.

“Adam look,” you called for your husband, “I’m floating.” Adam turned around in order to see what you were doing and chuckled at the sight. “‘m washin’ me ‘n’ my clothes,” the brunette explained what he was doing as he slid his hands all across his body, crumbling up his very wet clothes.

Lute had finally managed to fully catch up to you and just watched you with annoyance. “He’s drunk as fuck,” she grumbled, clearly talking to you but you simply shook your head violently, you somehow managed to get over to where Adam was washing himself and his clothes and helped him by sliding your hands all over his body too, “Bitch, we're washing him and his clothes.”

The brunette turned around to face you and poked your chest, “If you handsome bitch keep touching me like that I might just fuck you right here, right now,” the words he spoke were a little hard to understand die to the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. But hard to understand didn't mean impossible to understand, because as soon as your brain had processed the words your husband had spoken you pressed your entire body against his, your wet clothes clinging onto each other.

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Lute prayed as she covered her ears and turned around so that she wouldn't have to watch.

“Yeah? What's stopping you, big guy?” you were up for the challenge, if he wanted to fuck you right there, then he should get to do that. At least that's how you saw it.

Sera had a gut feeling that told her to check on the group and so she did. But what she saw was something she surely hadn't expected. Lute was standing on the sidewalk, the woman was still covering her ears and had squeezed her eyes shut in order to tune out what was happening behind her back.

Because Adam and you were standing in a brook, both fully naked. Sera immediately regretted what she had just done, she wanted to unsee what her eyes had been able to see. She stopped the transmission in an instant. That had simply been too much for her nerves, she had also made the decision to never address what was currently going down on earth.

Spoiler: Adam was going down on you.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[jinx-blackout-84]

Been trying to put a finger on why the Dream situation pisses me off and I think I figured it out.

I spent nights staring at my ceiling listening to change my clothes and dreaming about a future that I'm scared I'll never get to have. I watched every single one of his videos, read the fanfiction, sang the songs, knew the memes and jokes, couldn't look at a kettle or fork or the goddamn color green without thinking about him. And yeah, maybe it was weird, but I was TWELVE and he was the first person I had ever seen in media that was like me. That couldn't sit still, that talked weird, that just didn't quite fit in. I had a community when I was watching tiktoks about him and reading countless Tumblr posts about the dsmp lore.

It was covid and I was a kid and I was lonely and I needed so badly to have a place where I didn't have to watch the walls in my room seemed to get closer every moment.

I started having panic attacks when I went out in public, the people I was friends with started to realize I wasn't normal, that full body twitches and flappy hands weren't the typical reaction to a good song or too-bright lights. I was so lonely.

And then I found Dream's videos. And they helped me have a place where I wasn't alone in my room, feeling like a crazy person for my tics and my gender.

I cared so fucking much about this guy, trusted him with that naive trust that kids have that people are telling the truth, and then he turned out to be taking advantage of that in his fans.

It really fucking sucked to find out that my idol wasn't a good person.

And I had him on a pedestal, I thought he was perfect, I would have taken a bullet for him, alright? I cared so much because he was the only person I had ever seen who was like me.

It wasn't normal. It wasn't just me being a normal fan. I was a stan, was a parasocial fan, whatever you want to call it.

Burt he didn't do anything to stop thousands of kids just like me from being parasocial, in fact he encouraged it.

It just bothers me to think that the entire time he was telling us he cared, 12 year old me was just another viewer. Not because I was just another viewer, but because he lied to me and told me I wasn't. I am fine with just being a fan, but being told that I'm important and significant by someone who has no way of caring about me really sucked. It sucked because it really felt like he cared, but I was always just another view, another like, another subscriber, commenter, buyer. Just another consumer.

I was emotionally dependent on him and he did nothing to discourage that behavior from thousands of fans and it's disgusting because now he's taking advantage of those same fans, using them for money, flirting with MINORS that have been conditioned to care about him.

And now a huge portion of my childhood, a huge portion of the happiness I got from being part of his community, feels so gross and tainted and I will never get to have that again. I will never get to have back those days where I could watch his videos and listen to his songs.

And I fucking loved the songs.

I loved the music, music has always been a huge deal for me, and I loved it.

Now every time I hear those stupid songs I'm taken back to when I was twelve, picturing high school and thinking about my friends and all of the things twelve year olds care about. And I miss it, and I miss the stupid songs, because I can't hear them the same anymore and they should be special to me. They should be honey-dipped nostalgia and now they are gross and unsettling.

It fucking sucks to see him parade around and talk about how he deserve sympathy because he is autistic, however true that may be, because I am autistic, and it's not fun. It's not just being a little too blunt or developing a little slower. Those may be symptoms, but that's not what autism is. It's sobbing in the middle of the lunch hall as a year 8 because you have the wrong number or apple slices in your lunch. Autism isn't some excuse for behaving like a manchild, is is something that has fucked up so much for my life. And he uses it for sympathy points.

It sucks because I related so much to him and now that I know who he really is, I am left to wonder if I will be like him one day.

It took a big part of my childhood that I should be able to look back on with fondness and sort of ruined the memories.

It sucks because part of me will always care so goddamn much even if he's fucking terrible. Even if I would avoid him if I saw him in public. Even if i have him blocked on all social media. Even if i threw away every fanart i drew of him and the dream hoodie i bought with my own money. Part of me wishes he would redeem himself so I could love his songs again. Even if I really wish he would just lose his platform right now and never fucking speak again, I miss my childhood so damn much.

Kinda fucked me up to have something I cared so much about sort of destroyed in front of me just because a man that I thought could do no wrong was a shitty person.

Anyways, I hope he burns.

#jinx screams into the void #Dream neg #dream situation #Vent tw

[lovejosephquinn]

@harringtonfan4 requested this: 'Maybe he’s been away at work for awhile and he’s jealous you’ve been spending time with a guy you grew up with (totally innocent) now he’s home and wants to remind you who you belong too. Over and over and over.'

The gif you sent with it tumblr reckoned it was too naughty so I had to post it normally... So anyway a jealous and dominant Joseph? We're all goners 💀 Under 18's DNI.

You'd were lonely without your boyfriend being around, that was the only way to put it. You'd spent the most of the few weeks without him either working, hanging out with your close friends or even catching up with old ones. A guy you went to school with had reached out to you following a break up with his long time partner during this time and you'd spent a lot of time texting and talking on the phone. You'd mentioned him to Joe a few times when he'd been on FaceTime to you, and every time you'd see his face drop.

It'd always end up in a stupid argument, but you tried to convince him that it was completely innocent and he meant nothing by it but wanting to rekindle your friendship. Joe always said he trusted you, it was him he didn't trust but you just rolled your eyes at him and tried to change the subject, deciding the angst in the pit of your stomach wasn't worth it. The day he came home hours earlier than you thought, you were sprawled out on the sofa tapping away at your phone, laughing occasionally at the stupid things your friend said to you, whether it be a memory from years ago one of you had brought up, or silly memes being sent back and fourth.

Joe sneaked into the flat, hoping to catch you in surprise. He heard you giggling from the living room and furrowed his brows when he peaked around the door frame to see you laid in your comfy clothes, hair spread all over the pillows, a messy blanket half way between your knees and your chest, your phone raised above you in the air.

"Surprise!" Joe spoke out, making you jump out of your skin, throwing your phone to the side.

You looked up following the familiar and welcoming voice that made your heart explode. You jumped up from your spot and immediately ran over to embrace your boyfriend.

"Joe, oh my god. This is an amazing surprise. You're back early." Beaming from ear to ear, you wrapped your arms around him, snuggling your face into his chest.

"Did I startle you? You looked startled." Joe planted a kiss on top of your head, his arms enveloping you into him further, closing the space between you fully. You looked up to him, taking in the features you adored so much, but the smile you saw at first was now replaced by an unconvinced look at your lack of response.

"Just caught me off guard." You smirked, leaning up to kiss him, the peck on the lips was soft and warm yet brief.

"You're not texting him again are you?" Him, here we go.

"He's my friend Joe I'm allowed to talk to him." Joe sighed, not able to control his instant flow of bitterness and jealousy which erupted through his body.

"You're really jealous about him? You've no need to be. I love you." You tried to deflate the arising and almost inevitable heated discussion before you, but Joe had a better idea and instantly lifted you from where you stood, clenching the muscles in his arms to hold you tighter, shimmying his way through to the bedroom and tossing you down on the bed, your head bounced back to the pillow. He pealed your leggings off, lifting you up by your hand and undressed you rather suddenly, leaving you in just a pretty pair of cotton panties, your eyes flashed before your eyes as his swarmed your body.

"Baby, what're you doing?" You asked stupidly.

"Showing you who the fuck you belong to." You couldn't lie, you loved the dominance that had overtaken him. Deep down you knew he knew that there was nothing to worry about; but if he wanted to show you in this way, who were you to argue it. You'd missed him and you'd missed this.

Joe took his own clothes off and immediately fell on top of you, throwing you back once more, his hands roaming all over your body whilst he connected his lips to yours, paying close attention to your hardening nipples, pinching them making your clit ache from the sensation reaching it. His mouth attacked yours, tongue darting around yours, teeth clashing together and the more it continued, the deeper the kiss got, the more fierce Joe's fingers pinched and roughly moved against your body.

His hips thrusted downward, using your clothed folds to briefly jerk his cock through them, hissing at the feel, Joe's eyes burned into and you looked up all sheepish at him, when he was in this mood there was no changing it, but you'd never seen him react like this over someone, this was a whole new version of him.

"You're mine." Joe cursed your name at the back of this throat, pushing himself to the side so there was enough room for this fingers to continue edging you further, he pushed your panties to one side and plunged two fingers inside of you with no word of warning, your back arching from the sudden contact. His other hand tugging on your hair, pulling your head back. "Say it."

You moaned loudly as his digits deepened inside of you, curling upward to hit the spot you needed to be touched. Joe leaned down to your ear, pushing his knuckles up further, fingers now stroking your cervix, your walls clenched right around the thickness of them. "Say. It." Joe asked again, this time his voice a low growl. His hand that once had a hold of your hair was now wrapped around your throat, his fingers now slick covered from your cunt and thumb rubbing effortlessly against your throbbing bud. "I'm yours Joe." Joe shook his head, throwing an almost angered sigh your way.

"Sir. I'm yours sir." Joe smirked wickedly, it was something you found to be a kink for him, something he desired to be called when he was in his deep, dominating state of mind. "Good fucking girl." He moved his hand up that was having it's way with your pussy, tasting his fingers and groaning at the taste he'd clearly craved, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "My good girl." You nodded, making an attempt to grab a hold of his length but the back of your hand was dismissed in an instant. He ripped your underwear from you, discarding them off the bed and onto the floor; caging himself over the top of you once more. "Nuh uh, I'm going to fuck that pretty little pussy until you can't think of anything or anyone else but me." He clearly wasn't willing to let things be that easily.

He rammed his cock through your entrance and fucked into you hard, his thrusts making his hips slam down onto the edges of your pelvis and in-between your thighs. Your hands didn't know quite where to keep themselves, they roamed his back, clawing down where they could reach, repeating it over and over again until dinted lines appeared where you'd dug in harder. "Fuck, that's it. Mark me up." Joe bit down onto your lip, darting his tongue into your mouth once more, a more passionate kiss ensued, your lips smacking harshly against one another, whimpers singing into each other's mouths. Your hands flipped backward onto the headboard, pushing yourself into Joe to deepen the thrusts and take as much of his length as you could before you could almost feel it in your stomach.

Joe reached up to the top of the headboard above you, pulling it back to erratically grind harder. His cock throbbed inside of you, begging for release but he stopped himself every time the feeling got too much. Taking it out and occasionally rubbing it against you to edge himself before driving it back inside.

The headboard bashed against the wall with every single thrust given, you were a screaming, hot mess underneath the man you loved and wanted so deeply, taking everything he had to give you, it pleased him the way you sounded; he knew you enjoyed it from the way your wall's tightened in every move. "Sir, oh sir- can I cum. Please." Your body halted into stone trying your best not to reach your peak until he said so.

"Tell me again who you belong to?"

"You. I belong to you. All of you." Joe grinned at you, attacking your neck and leaning further down to buck up and it became difficult for you to breathe, Joe pushed himself up into a side that hit spots you didn't know were there until he found them.

"Yes baby, cum for me." You let yourself go immediately, fists rising up clenching against his curls, pulling on them hard that he swore he almost felt a few detach themselves from the severity of the climax that was consuming you from head to toe. Your euphoria was almost never ending as his cock continued to rapidly breed you.

"Fuck, my girl's so tight. So beautiful." You arched your back up and almost instantly, Joe released himself inside of you, his head jolting backwards, lips parting, filthy moans echoing across the walls of your bedroom coming straight from his mouth. "Holy sh-sh-shit." Joe cried out, his orgasm as heavy as yours.

He pulled out and launched himself further down the bed, his head down and focused between your legs. Your own head lifted to catch the sight of him licking his lips and diving his tongue straight into your hole. "Oh my god, more?" Your heart was beating ten to the dozen, the vibrations of the way his tongue flickered inside of you had you squirming. Joe tasted himself and you, cock still stiff all over again from the enjoyment. Joe lifted his face up to gaze up at you, his arms wrapped around your thighs to keep them in place, another mischievous grin showing.

"I said until you can't think of anyone else but me. We've got a long way to go, baby." His mouth instantly got back to work, latching around your swollen clit as he sucked against it, letting it go with a pop and going straight for it again, his teeth lightly nibbling on it to add a satisfying glimpse of pain to your pleasure.

You shut your eyes and saw stars amongst your darkened vision, the immensity of Joe's muscle that worked against you would only shortly send you into a paradise unknown to anybody else, he wouldn't stop until your juices flowed into his mouth, swallowing every drop to rehydrate him.

Flipping you over and getting onto his knees, he brought your ass up, spanking hard against your ass cheek and shoving his cock inside you, he used you as lube before taking it out and forcing his way into your tight little ass. Your face was smothered in the pillow your head was pleasantly laid on before, he ripped into you, ungodly, stifled sounds heard a plenty from the way his cock moved tightly against your ass, loosening it up before he eventually gripped onto your hips and fucked you as hard as he could.

"Yes, yes yes." Joe cried out, finishing himself between your ass cheeks, droplets of cum presenting itself onto your sheets and dripping down onto your folds. He grabbed you, pulling you upward to meet you at eye level, you threw your head back onto his shoulder, both your breathes erratic.

"Don't think I'm done." Joe uttered out into your ear, your breath hitching as his fingers skilfully dragged themself back onto your clit, his arm holding you up underneath your breasts.

"But I-"

“You’re mine baby, remember? You’re a little whore who’s addicted to me and if you didn't hear me correctly, I said I'm not done.”

Joe pushed himself backwards off the bed and as you turned around to meet him, he grabbed a hold of your hands bringing you forward for you to stand up, your legs almost giving way, he picked you up bridal style. Carrying you into the bathroom and turned on the shower, slowly putting you down to regain the feel of your feet against the ground, the shaky feeling not leaving the mess all around your thighs, legs and fucked out areas.

You both stepped in one at a time, feeling the warmth of the water hit your bodies. Joe had you up against the wall in seconds, it wouldn't be long until you were on your knees with his cock presented just over your mouth, his hand fucking himself until he made a mess of your face.

You washed yourself down after, Joe massaging your back and taking cheeky gropes of your arse as he stood behind you, craning his head down to caress your neck before washing your hair for you.

After you'd gotten out, feeling a little less tired but way more cleansed, Joe wrapped his arms around you once more, swaying you from side to side, your head back against his naked chest. The soft and loving side of him returning all the more you held one another close. "I love you." Joe muttered, a little smile creeping onto his face.

"I love you. I'm yours." You felt the need to confirm it one last time, to your surprise Joe chuckled a bark of laughter from his throat.

"Oh I know that baby. And I'm yours." You shook your head slight, grinning at his words, his fingers lifted your chin up to look him in the eye, a rather innocent look considering the drawn out fierce looks he presented before.

"I mean if you want to be jealous more often, I'll take it if that's what you're going to do."

"Don't even think about it." Joe's eyes grew suddenly, shaking his head back at you. "I missed you, that would of happened anyway." You rolled your eyes, staring up into the warm brown eyes that lovingly watched you. You knew he was right.

#my asks #joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn smut #chocolate button eyes #josephquinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fluff #joequinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn x fem!reader #joseph quinn x female reader #joseph quinn x plus size reader #joseph quinn x y/n #joe quinn blurb #joe quinn angst #joe quinn fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joe quinn x you #joe quinn smut #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn x fem!reader #joe quinn x fem!reader smut #joe quinn imagine #joseph quinn rpf

[delta-pavonis]

Last 10 Fics/Writing Patterns meme + Last First Line Tag Game

First the writing patterns meme, which is such a cool idea! I was tagged by @teejaystumbles! Thank yoooou.

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics posted to AO3 (Sort by date posted), AND see if there's a pattern!

By last updated date:

3 March 2024: Quaternion

KLOT DOD-DOT The knock of the twisted iron ring against its plate on the outside of his library door startles King Morpheus from his reverie. He is supposed to be notating one of the histories of the Moirai, the so-called Three Sisters of Fate, who have ruled the island nation of Ananke with brutal efficiency since seemingly time immemorial. Their ships have been seen too often in view of his coastline of late and he needs to be prepared for whatever their intentions are.

15 February 2024: you might be the answer to the sinner in me

“Hob, are you alright?” Hob’s shoulders tighten and his spine goes ramrod straight. It is the family holiday dinner and he is out on the back patio in the cold, staring at the over-manicured hedgerows that make up one of the distant property lines. He left to have space to pull out his vape pen and take a hit because that is probably the only way that he is going to get through the night.

16 January 2024: Placebo Effect

“You should just DM him,” Desire is studying their nails, the dark red of dried blood, while reclining on a chaise in the living room of their oldest sister’s condo. “My kingdom for anything that might throw Dearest Mumsie and Popsicle off your trail for an evening. I don’t think I can endure another holiday of it.” They sprawl, letting their head loll backwards over the armrest, to look at Dream almost upside down. “What say you big brother?”

6 January 2024: show me who I am

Hob taps his fingers on the table next to the map of Northern Ireland and takes a sip from his glass of shiraz. “I think this is it. This is the plan. We’ve got it. Anyone see something we missed?” He looks around the table at each person in turn, waiting for a response.

1 January 2024: Another Song

Shunk ka-thunkszzzz. The lights in the entire loft go out. “What the FUCK?” Matthew’s voice smacks into Dream despite the thick panels of wood between them.

30 December 2023: Thoughts on the Roman Empire (and Other Pickup Lines)

“You know, I think this whole meme going around about men thinking about the Roman Empire is great!” Hob smiles at the ceiling as he leans back in his chair, balancing it on its back legs, propping his feet up on the table in the private library study room. He doesn't need to look at Morpheus to know that the grad student is giving him a withering glare, or perhaps not looking at him at all. “First off, people are discussing history! Second, some of the jokes are actually solid gold. Like I saw one that just murdered me in broad daylight. Wanna hear it?”

21 December 2023: Levade

“Oh fuck Dream,” Hob writhes in his bonds. “You said you wanted more did you not?” The centaur smirks. “I am simply acquiescing to your request.”

15 December 2023: You create me against your lips

The first time Hob sees Dream is when the latter has the audacity to enter the Morningstar's realm. He watches as the Dream King intimidates Squatterbloat into bringing him to the Palace. The demon is stupid and gullible, easily swayed, and Hob has a mind to bury his morningstar in the moron's fleshy head, but he would rather observe the visitor and his raven from the shadows.

9 December 2023: where I'm supposed to be

For all that he shares a given name with the God of Sleep, has a nickname of Dream, he has only experienced lucid dreaming rarely. Once, maybe twice, before. But. He knows he is dreaming right now.

26 November 2023: Venus conjunct Saturn

“Show me, Hob.” Dream purrs in a way he knows will make his lover shiver. “Show me how she pleasured you.” He is laid beneath Hob, who is on all fours above him, and the only cloth they have is the sheets upon their bed here in the Dreaming.

Other than 30% of those fics having titles from Maneskin lyrics... apparently I like to start with sounds or dialog. Some in medias res beginnings in there, too. Huh. Fascinating.

And, just for fun, here are the FIRST few lines paragraphs of the finished fic I have on deck, a sequel to A Change in Tactics (published in October 2022!)... (originally I was tagged in a last lines tag game by @amielot!)

“We have to stop meeting like this!” Hob laughed as he broke the barstool in his hands over the head and shoulders of another patron of the White Horse Inn. Said patron had just previously been trying to stab Hob with a shard of wine bottle so he most decidedly deserved it. Hob pulled a chunk of wood from where it had lodged in his palm and frowned at the blood that welled up there. A crash to his left stole his attention. “Ope. Watch out Lou!” Lou ducked the tankard aimed at her head with all the sliding fluid grace of one well-acquainted with being deep in her cups. She didn’t spill a single drop of her own ale as she backed around the bar and out of the Inn through the alleyway door. Lou may have been part of starting this fight, but she clearly had no intention of finishing it. Which was just fine by Hob. Lou didn’t deserve to be in hospital any more than absolutely necessary. She had enough going on, as Hob had just learned. Speaking of his mysterious friend… Hob flung his sweaty hair out of his eyes in time to watch Dream elegantly sidestep the brawler charging him like they were a pair in some courtly dance. The beautiful bastard hadn’t even moved his hands from where they were clasped at the small of his back, while his opponent had gone headlong into a wooden pillar. “This only happens when I join you here, Hob.” One loping step over the fallen man and Dream was back at Hob’s side. (Graceful twat.) “This type of violence is notably absent when you visit my Realm.” (Double the twat on that one.)

I tag... everyone who has a springtime birthday.

#Dreamling #learn about Pavonis #Pavonis writes #writing meme #tag game

[sloshed-cinema]

Dog Day Afternoon (1975)

I aspire to have my life reduced to an end-of-film title card reading more or less ‘Leon is a woman now and living in New York City’. In an anarchic revolutionary system which was New Hollywood, this film perhaps encapsulates the movement better than most this side of the likes of Easy Rider. It’s angry but inert, woke but problematic, revolutionary but keeping the same cycle moving forward. Countless think-pieces of the last five or so years with really creative titles like ‘be gay, do crime’ exist trying to reclaim this as queer cinema, and while Al Pacino’s performance is certainly committed and even-keeled (I’m not going to do something stupid like call him ‘brave’ for portraying queer identity because fuck off), it definitely leans into the popular identification of non-hetero sexual orientation. Sonny is a folk hero when he defies the police (fuck yeah) but also becomes a target once his sexual orientation becomes public. The car ride to the airport is the perfect embodiment of the “two dudes on a bus” meme, half of the crowd supporting him and the other decrying him as a faggot. Was Sonny’s decrying of the police any less valid when he was straight-presenting, I ask? It’s all a lot of production, all to end in a sudden blaze of something other than glory. This remains true to the New Hollywood sensibility in that sense, too: counterculture figures can try to define a new existence for themselves, but they’re bound for failure. Not in a moralistic sense, per se, but rather because the system is simply too large and entrenched for success. There are innumerable cops poised to spring the moment anything seems to go wrong, and one robber is dead and the other in prison as a result.

Al Pacino sparkles in this, frazzled and harried and sweaty and effortlessly navigating his own sexuality. There’s something to be said for this, how frank he is in his relationship to the two women in his life. There’s no glances to the wings or nervous prepping. He simply is, even when his partner needs for the Fed to assure the media that there is only one ‘homosexual’ perpetrating crimes. Sal may be a criminal, but he’s straight as an arrow guaranteed! But the real winners are the ensemble surrounding this duo of criminals. The blue-bloused senior teller is the real MVP, unflappable even when she’s sweating through her clothes and taking the dictation of Sonny’s apparent last will and testament, looking out for her girls and making sure that racist cops don’t shoot the hostage who is being released simply because he’s black. The elderly dude is fun, too: I really need to find a way to work “It’s not the pizza, he’s got diabetes!” into everyday conversation.

THE RULES

SIP

Someone says 'alarm', 'cop', or 'bathroom'.

Sonny swears.

A phone starts ringing.

BIG DRINK

Sonny unlocks the front door of the bank

Algeria is mentioned.

#drinking games #dog day afternoon #sidney lumet #al pacino #john cazale #crime #drama

[glamrockcas]

For the fic meme I'd love to see an excerpt from the EMPTY fic!

Thank you so much for asking!! ♥

In the tag game I described this one as "a lot of romantic scenes taking place in the middle of bloody hunts/gore-splattered hunt aftermath/gross unromantic places." I'm realizing now the file is an absolute mess, so this is just about the only coherent part I have:

Squelch. It’s too wet-sounding to blame on the dew, so Dean stops.

“Uh. I think there’s some vamp on my boot.” Could just be blood, but it looks suspiciously like grey matter, so he’s not gonna examine it too closely. He rubs his foot against the ground, scraping and wiping it from the sole of his shoe, flattening the already wet grass. You’d think the dew would help clean the blood off, but no, that would be too fucking easy.

Cas walks on ahead, disappearing into the crisscrossing pine boughs; Dean doesn’t blame him. This is stupid—he’s already covered in vamp guts, and he can feel it drying in the light summer breeze, tacky on his skin and stiff on his clothes.

Then Cas comes back, a dark silhouette through the trees. “Come with me.” Cas lifts his jaw, beckoning Dean forward with just the angle of his head. Cas doesn’t explain, just walks on into the tangle of woods.

A field opens up ahead where the line of trees abruptly stops. Cas steps out into it, and a few feet behind, Dean follows—jeans swishing audibly against the tall grass. It’s knee-high, even higher further into the field.

There’s a rundown barn probably a hundred years old. Barely visible after dark, its almost concave roof a slightly deeper black than the sky behind it, a long rectangle slouching in the night. A chimney, a few feet from the barn, stands with no house to surround it. And all around them, flashing on and off, are white Christmas lights.

Except. No. It’s June.

(continued under the cut)

And who the hell would decorate a rotting barn, anyway?

Dean still doesn’t know why they’re here, why Cas has stopped. Cas just nods out at the field. Look.

At first he’s not sure what he’s seeing. It’s not just the barn; there are blips of lights in the grass, in the air. Pinpricks of light popping on and off all over, dozens, hundreds?

These are not fireflies—they can’t be. From the grass to the tops of the trees, higher than Dean even thought bugs could fly, briefly indistinguishable from the faint stars above the forest when they blink on. This is not the slow, gentle fading in and out of yellow-green he’s used to seeing over grass in the summer; this is fast, almost frantic, this is Christmas lights—

“What the hell is this? This is—this is something man-made, right?”

“No.”

“But—fireflies don’t look like that.”

“They do. You just haven’t seen them like like this before.” Cas sounds immensely pleased with himself.

A light flashes near Dean’s toes. One inch more and it would’ve been under his boot with the vamp guts.

“Woah, don’t crush the little guy,” Dean cautions, covered head to toe in blood, as Cas kneels down to scoop it from the grass.

“I won’t.” Cas smiles a little, like Dean just said something adorably stupid.

Which it was. Stupid. Of course Cas can control his freaky angel strength. He can see the gentleness and care with which Cas cups the bug in his palm and holds it out for Dean to see. It walks up his wrist, the side of his hand, flashing on and off. It’s more recognizable up close, its insect shape, that distinctly yellow-green glow. It’d be kinda like angel grace, the way Cas’ fingers flare with light when he heals one of Dean’s injuries, if it wasn’t the wrong color.

“Actually,” Cas adds, “it’s not a ‘guy’.”

“Oh. It’s a chick lightning bug? Cool.”

“Yes. The females tend to stay closer to the ground.”

“So, over the trees—” Dean points. “Hey, that one’s insanely high up—”

“That’s a plane.”

“Fine, Mr. Know It All, what about that one?”

“Also a plane.”

As they leave, Dean picks his way through the field awkwardly, looking before each step. An hour ago there’d been heads rolling past his feet; now he’s dodging barely substantial dots of light, weaving around his ankles.

#tysm again for asking~ #destiel #destiel fic #deancas fic #deancas fanfic #angelinthefire #there are FIREFLIES involved #fic* #fic #mine

[pauls1967moustache]

Perspective flip for Slip Of the Tongue pls! (Any part)

I had to blow the dust off this one tbh, but this fic is actually so interesting to me now, because I was still new-ish to the fandom when I wrote it. It’s such an apt introduction. It’s only my first kink meme fill (!!), but all the mo-esque elements are in there. I showed up to the kink meme like, “this is what I’m about”, and then wrote like 20 more angsty fights lol.

"Fuck, Stu," John moans, and Paul feels everything inside himself go dead.

John stops moving, instantly. It’s so fucking conspicuous that Paul feels it like a pinch, building pressure behind his eyes. John said it. Paul knows John said it because Paul heard him say it, but John’s stopped moving too, so he knows he said it. He said it, and now he’s not saying anything else. He’s left it hanging over Paul like a noose.

“Get off,” Paul says. It’s a plea, really, though he hopes it doesn’t sound like a plea.

John’s still wrapped all around him. Paul can feel his nose poking into his neck. He can feel his own pulse bouncing off John’s skin, and it sounds like his own voice. It sounds like stupid, stupid, stupid, and Paul really can’t be here anymore. He can feel the panic building in his veins. He feels some sort of animal instinct take over; caught in a trap—nervy, and scared—and liable to bite at any approach. If he has to spend another second with John touching him he thinks he might bite John’s skin off.

He yanks John’s body away from him, rough and desperate, and flees to the bathroom, gathering his clothes as he goes.

He can’t stop moving—pacing in front of the bathtub, forwards and back, as he stumbles into his underwear, and tries to shoves his arms through his half inside-out sleeves, still feeling too fucking naked, like an idiot. Letting John see him naked. Letting John just touch him like that, moaning for him, moaning out his name.

His name.

And he still hasn’t gotten his arm through his bloody sleeve, fuck.

Paul punches his hand through the knot of fabric. His fury only makes him feel like a useless child, so he curls himself down on the floor to sit still, sinking his face in his hands as he huffs out his frustrations. Except—being still gives him a moment to think about it.

Discomfort rises up his spine, sparking all the latent humiliation of being 19 and dismissed. It’s all so fucking embarrassing. He’s toured further than he’d ever imagined going, and he’s written multiple number one songs, and Stuart’s dead.

They don’t even really talk about him, anymore. He doesn’t even think about him, anymore. Sometimes, when he does, he feels guilty for not thinking about him. For treating him so unforgiving, when hindsight proved him to have been a bit of an insecure cunt about the whole thing.

Except, he’s not, is he? Not if John’s been thinking about Stuart while Paul had a hand wrapped around his cock.

An honest mistake, Paul thinks bitterly. One bassist hand for another. And fury washes over him again, at that, because it’s not like Stuart even put in enough of an effort to have bassist hands, so Paul’s a poor fucking substitute, in that regard.

If that’s what he is.

Paul feels it, again—that pressure behind his eyes.

Is that what he is?

“Paul?” he hears John call softly, from the other side of the door.

The panic from earlier comes with him, coiling tight in Paul’s shoulders. John doesn’t say anything else, and Paul can’t guess at what he might do. He has an image in his head of John opening the door, smirking down at him, cruel and sharp. Laughing at Paul for believing in him for so long.

There’s a rational part of himself that knows John wouldn’t do that. But he used to think he was the only person John’d ever shown this part of himself to—and, evidently, he isn’t—so what the fuck does he know?

Unease bubbles up his throat, forcing him to swallow the thick lump of it down.

“Paul?” John says again, and this time it’s followed by the sound of the door swinging open.

Paul looks up. John stands there, looking skinny and flushed with nothing but his flagging hard-on, and his underwear. For a moment, Paul forgets. John’s thighs are beautiful, and his rumpled bedhead is charming, and Paul still likes seeing him like this as much as he did when he was 20, and stupid, and the only boy in the world John had ever dared to touch. The only boy that mattered that much to him.

Paul feels a seething contempt for himself—bitter in the back of his throat.

“What?” he snaps.

John blinks, as if he didn’t come in with a plan, which only makes Paul hate him more, because John wouldn’t need a plan if it was as simple as I didn’t mean it, but John hasn’t fucking said that yet.

“It wasn’t—” John starts. “I was only thinking about—”

Paul’s anger cools into something else—distant and savage.

“Oh, were you?”

John squirms, clearly annoyed with Paul’s reaction. Not obtuse or demure enough for whatever sorry excuse he had. Paul wonders if John always thought Paul was that easy, or if it’s just that Paul never thought to question John’s motives before. Well, that would make him that easy, wouldn’t it? An easy little fool, he was.

“I was thinking of Hamburg. It wasn’t like that,” John tries—patronising. Like he talks to Cyn, sometimes. It tastes acidic on Paul’s tongue.

“That boring, was I?” Paul says.

“Obviously not,” John protests, weakly, waving a hand to his prick, as if that’s supposed to be a compliment. As if Paul hasn’t seen him get off with girls he barely even liked, a hundred times before.

It’s so bloody tactless, it has Paul blurting out: “Would Stuart have taken care of that for you?”

John blinks at him, surprised. “What?”

Whatever defense mechanism was keeping Paul feeling dead inside falters, his anger starting to simmer up again.

“Did you do this with him?” Paul asks.

John just keeps fucking blinking at him, like he can’t comprehend anything Paul’s said. Caught red-handed in whatever lark he and Stuart set up for Paul.

Paul can see them in his head—in that dingy, little flat on Gambier Terrace, on that shared fucking mattress. The way they’d laugh together, sometimes, when they talked about art, and left Paul out of it, as if Paul couldn’t understand just because he wasn’t in art school, and he was only a kid.

If John tries to lie to him Paul thinks he might actually punch him.

John only shrugs.

“Was it better?” Paul goads him, something nasty forcing him to spit it out. Forcing him to make John admit it. Just fucking tell him it was all a joke.

John frowns. “What?”

“With him, John.”

John looks away. Retreating. “Christ, the lad's already dead. Isn’t the jealousy getting a bit old?”

Jealousy. Like that’s all it was—petty, teenage jealousy. Like John didn’t spend years making Paul think it was real. “Are you serious?”

“Are you?” John snaps back.

“Must’ve been good, no? If you're still thinking about it,” Paul shoots at him.

“I was thinking of you,” John all but shouts. And that’s really beyond the threshold of what Paul can take.

“Oh, fuck off!”

He storms out, feeling wired and claustrophobic, trapped in the oppressive little bathroom with John insulting him to his face, like Paul’s too thick to know better.

He’s aware as he stands there, fuming, that he’s still barely dressed, and tries to button himself up—tries to insert some goddamn dignity into the situation—but he can feel John getting all fired up next to him, and he doesn’t want to bloody do it anymore. There’s no point. The ruse is up. Paul gets it now.

“He said you didn’t, you know.”

Whatever words were hanging on the tip of John’s tongue, die there. His mouth snaps shut, and he stares at Paul, looking confused and startled. Like he wasn’t expecting it. It only fuels Paul’s contempt.

It was one of those days: John and Stuart in Gambier Terrace, excluding him.

Paul had been trying to coax John into playing a bit, and John was sick of Paul pestering him about it so he’d hissed something cruel and stormed off, leaving Paul alone with Stuart, stewing in his own humiliation. Made all the worse by the look Stuart had thrown him, after John left—like he felt sorry for him.

Stuart said: “Just give him some breathing room, yeah? You know what he’s like.”

It irritated Paul so much, he’d spat out, “What do you care? You get to wank each other off about art more, now. Isn’t that what you want?”

And Stuart turned even more fucking sympathetic, like he could see the thing Paul really wanted—that embarrassing, forbidden thing Paul barely even let himself look at—and he said, “You don’t have to worry about that, you know.”

“I’m not worried,” Paul protested, feeling seen and ashamed for it. “I’m not a bloody poof. You can blow him all you like. I just— I only want the group to—”

But he could feel his voice shaking, and his cheeks burning, fire-hot, and Stuart kept looking at him like he wanted to give Paul a pat on the head or something, and all Paul could think about was how badly he wanted to shove him into the wall and smash the look off his smug fucking face.

“It’s really not like that,” Stuart said, kindly.

“I don’t fucking care, mate,” Paul snapped, caring a lot and hating himself for it.

“I swear. We never, mate,” Stuart promised, annoyed with Paul, but clearly not letting it put him off this mortifying conversation.

And just as Paul was about to tell him again how much he didn’t fucking care what Stuard and John did together, Stuart said, “It’s not like with you two. We never needed each other like that.”

It had cut through the anger. Reached deep into something vulnerable and terrified inside Paul and soothed it, despite how much Paul didn’t want it to. Paul wanted to dismiss it—pretend like it didn’t matter as much as it did—but he couldn’t get the words out. And in the end, all he’d ended up saying was, “Yeah?”

Like a fucking imbecile.

“Looked me in the eye and said: ‘Never, mate. Didn't need each other like that,’” Paul continues, trying to figure out what the problem is with his fucking shirt, and realising he’s missed a button, because of course he did. Because this is how inadequate he is, clearly.

Paul blows out an angry sigh through his nose.

“Fucking Stuart.”

“It stopped before you, if you want to be so fucking precious about it,” John says—all attempts at placation gone, apparently.

“Right around when he found Astrid, was it?” Paul shoots back.

As if that’s supposed to make him feel better—being the second choice, after Stuart fell in love. A convenient little consolation prize. Paul wonders, acidly, if John would’ve ever cared for him at all had Stuart not gone and bloody died on him.

“What do you care? You had every bird in Hamburg, in the meantime,” John says.

“That’s different!”

“How?” John snaps, stepping closer towards Paul. “What—you can have me, but he can’t? I’m not a fucking monk outside of you.”

Paul can feels his eyes—sharp and intent—and he can’t do it. He can’t stand here and explain to John that while John saw him as the second-best available mouth to suck his cock, Paul had spent the entire time feeling. That Paul gave something up to John that he’d thought John had given back.

Paul swallows. “Fuck off, John. Honestly,” he spits, and shoves past him, back to the safety of the John-less bathroom.

#fic specific ask meme #a thing about me is I love writing an argument #and that is the root of every angsty fic I’ve ever written #they literally all started with a note in my phone with argument dialogue lol #anyway please enjoy tonight's installment of Paul Freaks Out in a Bathroom #taking a break on the perspective flips tomorrow cause you guys sent like 10 of them lol #thank you but you all have updated fics and i haven't had time to read them!!! #fic tag

[silent-sanctum]

i usually dont post unformatted stuff like this on the regular, but based on the amount of "jokes" ive seen in twitter and in tumblr about jotaro's character, i got some pet peeves that i may or may not be taking too seriously since he's my fave

but at the same time, a portion of the community is also taking these memes seriously as if it's the gospel and im kinda sick of it tbh so might as well treat this as a "in defense of" segment-

im sure there are others who feel the same way, but im letting everyone know that i feel the same sentiments:

Choosing Koichi over Jolyne

This is one that i don't feel that strongly about compared to the rest, but i feel like ive seen enough of these comments pop up in a youtube video and it makes me want to ask: "yeah? man literally let his emotions surface and sacrifices himself just to let his daughter know that he loves her over anything else".

And why? Because he stayed in Morioh and so happened to end up as a mentor-figure to Koichi (and, you know, to Josuke and Okuyasu too )? But why is it Koichi is singled out as "joot's preferred child" and not the rest? Cause he's child-sized?

Nothing much else to say but do stop treating jotaro like he fully abandoned his family just for shits and giggles.

Ocean Man x Dolphins

NOW. I have things to say.

What is up with these comments? Wherever I go (youtube, reddit, twitter etc.), i would see shit similar to this where he has a fetish for dolphins? Uhm, tf?

I get it if it's done for the memes, but istg, i see these in every reply in a thread as if araki wrote that in canon and people exaggerate this to an extent where "his lover is a sea mammal", "jolyne's mom is a dolphin", "he screws with dolphins", "make dolphin sounds to attract him" etc.

first off... how dumb and really stupid? Just because one of his P4 outfits had an abundance of dolphin pins doesnt mean he has an extreme liking to them. He wore that fit for one arc and thats pretty much it.

And to keep repeating that "i left my family to fuck with them" joke in every comment is just very subpar in terms of humor. It's not even funny to more it's used.

Need i remind these people that other than the clothes, he shows ABSOLUTELY no liking to dolphins at all in the show. If anything, he prefers starfishes over dolphins- he wrote a whole thesis about them and his office has an entire portion of a wall with framed starfishes.

don't know how the whole shtick blew up into this but omg it's annoying

I am Cold-Hearted Misogynist Giga Chad

Imma need everyone to stop mischaracterizing him as nothing but an "always angry" hates females person.

To address the misogynist topic, he talks regularly with the school nurse about cutting his pants, he emphasizes that he's deeply insulted when an innocent woman is hurt and that he considers that as true evil, protects and helps Anne when she's on screen, goes on a whole ass journey to help his mom recover, got married and had a kid with a woman, and offered a brief condolence to Tomoko about her dad's death.

also put in mind that he only barks up and become "misogynistic" (which not really) toward the females that obsess over him. I mean it's borderline sexual harassment if you ask me with the way the female students won't leave him alone and continue to be noisy around him or when adult women fawn over a MINOR.

AND EVEN THEN, when he goes to school with his fangirls flocking around him, he doesn't push them off. Why? Because it's unnecessary. He lets one of them cling to his arm and he just ignores them. After falling the stairs and they swarm around him, he doesn't become violent toward the girls and continues to ignore them. (sure he pushed those flight attendants away and punched his daughter to get out, but then again they were blocking his path and they needed to get out the room so he found it necessary to do those things)

again, him being annoyed with loud girls is reasonable but he isn't annoyed with every female in existence. That doesn't make him a misogynist.

Mr. Blank Slate

As an introvert myself, i find it sad and lowkey insulting that when it comes to watching introverted characters, the audience find them as boring and bears no personality. And i can tell...because the audience finds jotaro and giorno, the 2 introverted Jojos, as characters who are dull and bland.

maybe that's why i kin with joot, because we just quiet and vibing, and somehow people misinterpreting that vibes as "we hate everything don't talk to us"

We aren't openly dynamic and spontaneous but that doesnt mean we don't have personality.

But I think that's because viewers are well-acquainted with "out there" characters who show an explosive and emotive reaction to stuff like Joseph or Josuke. Much like a typical Shonen protag.

jotaro is a stoic, reserved man with a kickass no bullshit personality who wants things done as soon as possible, but holds a soft golden heart deep down who wants his friends and family safe and happy. He's a dork who makes corny one-liners, watches detective shows and documentaries, does party tricks for his friends, very keen on maintaining his sense of style (his uniform, 20k yen pants, expensive ass watch), literally smiles in ^_^ (and yes... he does emote in the anime yall are just too stuck up in the notion of him being angry 24/7 for yall to notice), etc.

idk much about giorno yet im sorry but all i know is that the kid's got a dream so I guess you could say he's ambitious and driven to secure his goal of being a gang-star mafia leader.

all i can say is that, the quiet ones have some quirks to them too and it's not always the loud ones.

Are these controversial? Maybe, but I've seen some express their frustrations so why not as well. Am i being a killjoy and taking this too seriously? Debatable, but there are some of you who also take your jokes seriously so don't come at me.

Will i have more peeves in the future? Likely. Let's wait and see :>

#jotaro kujo #jojos bizarre adventure #mijin thoughts

[masschase]

domestic life 3 and 8 for matt and casey! i genuinely love those two so much and can’t get enough of them :)

Thank you, it is so reassuring to hear people say stuff like this. My brain always tells me no-one wants to hear about my blorbos, haha.

Ship ask meme

All the spoilers warning but also I think I went right off the fucking rails on of the first question. Dear god.

Domestic life 3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Oooookkkkkkaaaayyyyy listen. I feel so stupid typing this all out here even though those who've finished the fanfic know, because I always feel like on tumblr I maybe possibly present Casey and Matt like two kids who fuck about watching Nyte Blayde and running around shooting shit and dressing up in pretty goth clothes and *occasionally* dabbling in running a ship/planet together. But realistically they are fairly responsible adults, they have a planet to settle down on and resources and an excellent support system. So yes, they do have children and yes, I've known for a long time they were going to even when it's mostly not that era I'm drawing them in.

Again, this may be a bit of a surprise to some but from the age of about 25, Casey kind of decided she wanted kids and quite a few of them. 3 or 4 but probably 4. Told you she thought she was a fucking Kennedy. It's something she'd thought about since she was running for President, the idea of leaving a legacy, the idea of raising a human to adulthood and... she wouldn't admit it but she does actually like kids. She just says they make her uncomfortable and I've just mentioned in the last ask meme she gets that way when she knows she can't really have something.

She knows it's not practical while she's fighting gangs and shit. But she figures when she's President it might be safer. She never really decided if she was going to go back on her views on partnership or go it alone for that. I think she knew it probably still wasn't the most realistic of aspirations.

She starts thinking about it again when they're getting ready to take over the planet, but she's convinced she may die there and has no partner anyway, so her views on it are quite bleak. Of course, once they havr actually finished taking over, bearing in mind she's with Matt by this point, those thoughts start to creep back in. They make vague references to it when talking about the home they are going to build together, and this is kind of where they talk about their options being hide in the past somewhere, fight every time, or run when they need to, and they decide they will lean towards the latter.

She ends up putting her usual issues around talking about stuff like this aside and ends up asking him around 7 months later when her birth control shot is due to run out. It takes almost a year for them to concieve, and she starts getting rather impatient at not being able to control this like she can most things. But it does happen for them.

Matt was encouraged to think about having children perhaps a little earlier than a lot of people, back when Casey was always talking about getting him a partner out of the pods and how they would need to encourage people to repopulate the new planet. He only really pictured having 2 but I don't think he felt too strongly about it, so they quickly settled on 3. Probably for the best seeing as Casey's second pregnancy was twins. 🤣 I was thinking about all the risk factors they'd have for twins(she was 35, tall, possibly still breastfeeding, eats a lot of dairy, it was a second pregnancy, he was only 27 so probably fairly fertile now they were far enough away from the zin goo-based fertility issues) and I thought yeah, let's say that happened. In this case it happened the very first month (on their first full night without their eldest since she was born actually, any guesses when that was? 😉) so... even though they did choose to start trying again it still managed to be a massive shock to them both.

Victory is their eldest, born June 2024, I'm sure some of you saw the picture I snuck out although it's far from perfect. When I made a post back in April about drawing something I couldn't put out bc of spoilers that was it, hehe. She has very curly/wavy mid blonde hair as a kid, and bright blue eyes with a very slight ring of hazel around the iris (I drew this the wrong way around in my picture) Her eyes stay like this into adulthood but her hair gets darker brown, more like Matt's (roots) or Casey's mom's/sister's. In terms of features though I think she looks more like Casey than Matt. She's very intelligent, independent, thoughtful, creative, and quite assertive/bossy.

The twins are 22 months younger, born April 2026, and I think they are identical; a cis boy and as they later find a trans girl, with hazel eyes; the same kind of goldy shade as Casey's for the most part but the outer ring is more grey/blue whereas Casey's is more brown/green. Their hair is also wavy and very blonde as kids but doesn't darken as much as adults; they remain darkish blonde. Their features are a fairly even mix of their parents though (god knows what that looks like 🤣) I'm not certain on names yet at all. Either something similar to Victory's or I quite like the idea of using Apollo and Artemis. Since Artemis is a goddess but gender neutral as a name, so I can see her keeping it, just maybe changing her nickname to Emi rather than what they were using before. But I'm using their names here as placeholders only. The twins are better sleepers than their big sister, also pretty smart, clingier with their parents, especially Apollo, but they're also very boisterous and due to having a big sister as an example, talkative from a lot earlier. Like when they're all toddlers the younger two are running around causing absolute chaos while Victory is laying on the floor trying to draw. Everyone says the twins are gonna grow up acting more like Uncle Gat than their parents. Artemis never stops singing. Apollo is always hungry.

I think Matt probably suggested Nyte Blayde names but Casey brought up that all the ones with cool names are characters at least one of them are attracted to so it wouldn't be appropriate!

I guess this is a good a post as any to get at least a vague thing written out about how they're able to have a safe life. Matt manages to extrapolate the Zin cloaking technology to the entire planet, basically, while he and Kinzie wipe all the data about said technology, and the planet's co-ordinates, from the Zin database, replaced by the message "Ragnarok Wins Forever".

There are still minor insurrections, but Johnny and occasionally a few others mainly take care of those. As for Casey getting to still do what she loves... with gradual improvement, Matt was able to program a simulation as good as the Zin's but without the brain-frying side-effects so that they can fight together any time they have a spare moment to themselves(which is obviously not that difficult, with the Saints making up this big family it's not hard to find someone to take the kids for an hour or so) so she's really not missing out any more than she was on the spaceship. The time inbetween is much more fulfilling than back then though.

Something I decided only recently was that although in theory Matt and Casey could time travel off anywhere for a week when they needed a break and pop back to the same time; surely a dream for most parents, it seems so wrong for them to be out of sync with their own children that they decide not to, until they're adults and can kind of decide to travel separately if they want. Fortunately, again, they do get breaks thanks to the other Saints.

That whole thing with their different schedules is pretty useful by this point. Matt doesn't mind dealing with a few wakeups up until 2/3am while Casey will get up at 5/6am if she has to so they just have to hope the baby might sleep a little longer between those times... maybe... hopefully 😅

So yeah, I have more I could say here but I feel like I've let out a lot of my insanity at once here, lets move onto something more lighthearted immediately. :)

Domestic life 8. Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Now in theory, Matt would be the one more in a position to do this, because Casey tends to wake earlier. But more likely to convince is a different matter. I think if Casey wanted him back in bed it'd pretty much take her beckoning with one finger. *Maybe* a slight puppy-dog-eyes-and-pout if he's being resistant. Of course it really helps when any complaints about having work to do can be met with:

"Oh really? And who's your Boss again?"

#asks #saints row #sr boss: casey clark #matt miller #sr oc: victory clark-miller #matty x cass #thanks for the ask! #sorry about the unhinged hc dump haha

[nobully]

💔 18? 👀👀👀

KISSING  MEME | 18. a kiss that draws blood.

‘ You're a weirdo, ' Wang Yi mutters as he wipes blood off the edge of his blade.

"And you sound pent-up. Is that all you want to say?" Next to him, a tall, dark-haired man stands with a palm resting over his shoulder. Blood seeps out from the cracks between his fingers and soaks through his clothes.

Wang Yi keeps his head down as he considers the question. ' Please don't kill me? ' he tries after a second. ' Or maybe, don't sneak up on someone holding a knife? '

Belial just smiles and leans over far enough to drip blood on the asphalt between them, leaving tiny crimson puddles by their shoes. "What about you take some pity and plug me up nice and tight so I stop leaking from my…hole?"

Wang Yi takes a wary step back, leery of the language. ‘ The knife didn't stab you that hard. '

A completely inappropriate and sensuous moan follows his words, making him further knit his brows. Unfortunately, it doesn't stop Belial from spewing out more filth.

"You left me so wet and excited that I'm still dripping from the inside. After just one thrust—a shallow one, too. Though I could teach you some better techniques—"

' NO. No thanks. ' But Wang Yi does frown and brush past him to walk towards the end of the alleyway. ' I don't have bandages, but we can buy some at a pharmacy two blocks away. Just hold on— ' He takes one step into the streets, freezes, and doubles back again.

Belial watches in amusement as Wang Yi almost runs to the wall at the end of the their dead end and starts looking for a place to climb up.

"What is it?"

' Yeah, nothing too bad, just some people I'm avoiding coming this way. '

“And you’re running because?"

' I'm not equipped to fight off five guys. ' That's as much as he'll share. Stupid 30-minute time limit, he could barely brainwash anything within those parameters. Meanwhile, the walls are too high and too smooth. There are no window ledges close enough to hold onto, much less trash cans to climb. He is so, so screwed.

Wang Yi doubles back again and decides he'll just make a run for it. ' I'll lead them off while you stay here. We can meet up later— '

Belial smoothly sidesteps to block his way. "When we’ve barely started our foreplay? You're wounding me here, human."

' Yeah well, maybe fix some of your pickup lines first, ' he retorts and tries to shove him aside. Immediately Belial groans, slumping against the wall while still clutching his injury, and Wang Yi stops in spite of the exaggerated acting.

' Is it really that bad? ' It does seem like the spot hasn't stopped bleeding since he stabbed it, but who knows what funky physiology made up this guy's parts? Besides perpetual horny, he means.

"Oh, yeah," Belial replies back breathlessly. "First time penetration's always a—"

' Forget I asked. ' Wang Yi grimaces. He hears footsteps next, so when Belial turns his head towards the sound of the noise he impulsively cups the man's face and turns him back. ' Can you not look? The point is to avoid attracting attention. '

Belial opens his mouth to (10/10) make another lewd joke and Wang Yi thinks, god no not again please shut the fuck up before pulling him down to kiss him.

It works.

Maybe a little too well…?!

He'd only meant to touch their lips together but Belial welcomes him all the way, returning his gesture with a kiss he can only describes as soft but sensual. To which Wang Yi thinks, weird, I thought he'd be rougher for some reason?

Wait, it's not like I actually wanted to kiss him—

"You should get into it more. They're looking,' Belial murmurs around his mouth and huh, that's gentle too.

Whatever. It's like one of those clichéd movie plots. So Wang Yi listens and closes his eyes to kiss back. The group of footsteps that stopped outside the alley eventually pick up again and move on. He waits for a while until they've faded away, trying and half-failing to ignore the the guy still sucking his face to the point his lips have turned numb, and opens his mouth to speak.

' I think we're don—nngh? ' Words turn garbled as a tongue darts in, and suddenly everything feels far too hot, like he's been doused in a tub of liquid honey. Something tastes tantalizingly sweet and it's filling his mouth with a tremendous thirst that makes him restless.

...apples? Wang Yi identifies the flavor before he flushes. ' W-wai, uhm...! '

The tongue probes deeper and he almost chokes, not from lack of air, but the new heights of ecstasy the sensation brings. His legs buckle and Belial thoughtfully pushes him back until he's plastered against the alley wall. Wang Yi ends up clinging to the guy's shirt (what little of it he can grab anyways) for support as his mind goes completely blank.

What the hell what the hell what the hell?

Is this still a kiss, or is Belial just fucking his mouth? The thought is as incredible as it is insane. He tries to back away, but fingers catches the back of his head and quietly urge him forward. They're wet and slick against his hair, and he realizes that this is the same hand that was resting over Belial's injury as his nostrils fill with the scent of blood. That almost wakes him up, though in a different way—blood pounding through his ears as his partner deepens their kiss to the point that Wang Yi makes an involuntary noise in his throat.

He almost loses it, but again the thought flitters through his head: too soft. It's all pleasure without the pain, which feels too much like a dream to drown in its depths, so the next time Belial tongues him (well, tongues him more)—

—Wang Yi bites down.

It's his subconscious urges coming to play, but the taste of blood and muffled grunt that follows fills him with more satisfaction than anything else. That is until Belial laughs in his mouth and bites back—on the lips—and Wang Yi realizes between the pain that, oh, I like this too. Hazily he moves his hand across the man's chest, higher towards his shoulder, until he finds the spot still seeping blood and presses down with his thumb—nothing.

No reaction?

A little disappointed, Wang Yi curls his fingers to dig in with his nails and—oh. Oh. His eyes flutter open to the sensation of fingers gripping his chin as something sharp presses against his cheek and damn, I think his nails are longer than mine.

An angel smiles down at him before he’s eaten alive.

***

“You like it rough, don't you? Entering me dry like that."

' ...please shut up. '

There is blood on Wang Yi's lips (his) and more (not his) smeared on his neck and clothes as he sits on his heels on the ground of a dingy alleyway in Cotes, wondering what the hell prompted him to get mouthfucked by a stranger for too-many-minutes straight before he got inspired to finish the session with a knife to Belial's gut.

This one didn't go that deep either, but it's far enough to stick, and Wang Yi just ends up leaving it there while he stops to question his life choices. His mouth is painfully (pleasantly?) numb, his clothes are undone, and there is probably dried blood sticking to his hair but it's still a world better than the guy who looks like he's half-dipped himself in red dye for kicks on one side of his torso.

We look like we tried to murder each other.

At least their pants were still on. A part of him's wondering why this guy hasn't killed him yet for daring to stab him twice but the other part knows exactly what's up, and before Wang Yi can have one side muffle the other Belial's already pulled out the weapon and dropped it on the ground by his feet.

"Next time," he says, sounding more amused than anything else, "I'll show you how to penetrate someone properly."

' There is no next— ' Wings flap and winds pick up; once again, the fallen angel is gone.

Wang Yi licks his bloodied lips and thinks, Shit.

#encarnal #drabbles; #blood cw #suggestive cw #violence tw #i said no biting but here we are #this ended up just being crack!makeout post but i blame angst threads throwing me for a loop #my brain is mush my heart is paste let's get them to eat each other's face (?)

[fates-theysband]

i can dish it, 'cause i know how to take it

to my credit i at least do not have work tomorrow this time. anyway, rejoice, pissed off rage nerd developer/player who got a little too carried away pushing his buttons meet-ugly be upon ye.

cws for swearing and mentions of violence (none actually happens) and uh. not really much else. i refer to the dude stop narrator as andy because that headcanon name extremely stuck for me fsr.

--

“That’s it. I’m coming down there, and we’re going to talk about what you just did in person.”

Andy’s tone sounded scary even to him–it was low, even, and threatening, in a stark contrast to the enraged scream the player had last heard from him.

Good, he thought as he slipped off his headset and rose to his feet. He hoped Tester 17 was scared of him. Hoped they’d cower at the sight of him, at the physical proof that there was in fact a person on the other side of that screen, and that person was fucking pissed.

Their actions had proven they wouldn’t, though. Probably some snot-nosed college freshman who thought they could make a couple bucks by Le Epically Pranking this hapless game developer. Andy stalked down the stairs, clenching his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms, and briefly entertained the notion of punching 17’s lights out. He wouldn’t lead with it, of course; he’d demand an explanation, and when they–his mind conjured the image of a smug-looking 4channer type with a meme t-shirt for this purpose–inevitably laughed at him or called him some stupid internet word in the smarmiest nasally voice he could imagine, BAM! He wasn’t exactly the strongest guy, but he figured that unless this guy was some kind of bodybuilder he could probably channel enough rage to make up for it. Hopefully.

Well. He was about to find out whether or not he could take them, having reached the door into the small testing room downstairs. He twisted the knob and opened the door, slowly pulling it open to reveal the source of all his troubles…and found himself to be wrong on all counts about who he thought he’d see.

Tester 17 seemed to be around his age; if there was a difference it wasn’t more than a year or two. They were sitting cross-legged on the cheap sofa that took up most of the room, and they were wearing what seemed like an entire outfit patterned with skulls in some way (save for the galaxy-print canvas shoes sitting to one side of the sofa–at least they didn’t seem to actually live their life the way they played his game, although he found this to be of very little comfort considering what he was going to have to do because of the way they played his game). They turned to look at Andy as he walked in, revealing a round face covered mostly by a black cloth mask, leaving the dominant feature to be a pair of blue eyes covered by glasses.

Hm. Something was off about Tester 17’s eyes, as if the pupil in one of them wasn’t where it should be. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means; if anything it just made it easier to see what a lovely shade the blue was…Andy realized he hadn’t said anything since he walked in because he’d been staring at their eyes. Focus, man. These are the last pair of eyes you want to get lost in right now.

17 spoke first, scrambling off the couch as they did so. “I, uh, have some explaining to do.” Their voice definitely was not nasally or smarmy. It was low and quiet, with a smooth, even cadence to it that sounded somewhere between a late night radio host and a pilot. In any other context, it might have been beautiful.

Andy pushed that thought out of his mind, glaring at them as they rose to their feet. “Yeah. Yeah. You could say that.”

“So, uh, I’m genuinely really sorry for the whole–the…the D.U.C.K. I’ll admit I overreacted. I realize that’s not a huge help to you, but…” They’d risen to their full height now–Andy noted that they were a little taller and a fair bit heavier (which, honestly, he found kind of attractive–WHOA nope nope nope not them they ruined your life) than he was.

“Overreacted? To what?” Andy spat, the venom in his voice more of an attempt to overcompensate for the unexpected inklings of attraction he was feeling than anything else.

17 blinked a few times in shock, then shot back, “What the hell do you mean, ‘to what’? The fact that you were such an asshole half the time even when I did do things right! Like, you just immediately wrote me off as actively malicious and only being good for the rewards after the first fucking pack! How are you even supposed to actually progress through that one other than how I did?”

“There’s a timer! Just like the lightning round!”

“No there’s not! I waited on the book screen for fifteen minutes and nothing happened until I pulled the bookmark!”

“Okay, you had to be a LITTLE more patient than that! It’s longer than the–wait, fifteen?” It was Andy’s turn to blink in shock as he processed what he’d just heard. “That pack is supposed to have a one-minute timer for each puzzle, but if you waited fifteen minutes and still didn’t progress…that one is on me, I guess,” he continued sheepishly, before exclaiming, “But it doesn’t excuse you sending all your bad solutions to my friends!”

“No, it doesn’t. That’s why I said I overreacted,” 17 responded. They softened a bit, then said, “I really am sorry. Is there anything I can do to get you out of that bet?”

Andy deflated a bit (admittedly feeling a little put out that they had actually apologized to him and seemed to be willing to make things right–now his righteous anger just felt foolish), looked away, and scoffed. “Nothing that Mark would listen to.”

17 put a hand to their chin in thought for a moment, then spoke. “Then tell me what you have to do, and you can film me doing the same thing. Whoever you want to send it to, I’ll give you their contact info. Fair’s fair.”

Andy spluttered as he felt his cheeks warm up at the mental image of 17 doing what he had to do. “It wouldn’t be embarrassing for you to do it! You’re too–too–uh, you’d just actually look ho–goo–COOL doing it!”

“Dude, if I’d look cool doing whatever it is you have to do, you probably don’t have anything to worry about,” 17 said with a laugh. “But I get ya, man. You don’t wanna tell me. You can just come up with whatever you think would be embarrassing enough to ruin my life and I’ll do it.”

“And you’ll help me fix the D.U.C.K.,” Andy quickly added, having composed himself enough to go back to glaring up at 17.

17 raised their hands in concession. “No objections here. I did break it. I’m, uh, not much of a coder, though.”

“I’m not letting you within ten feet of any game code,” Andy replied, not nearly as much bite to his words this time. “But, since you know the puzzles so well at this point, you’d be the best person to retrain it.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Same time tomorrow?” It wasn’t immediately apparent under the mask, but judging from the way their eyes looked, 17 was…smiling? Weird.

“Not tomorrow. I need time to think.” And also time to do the most humiliating thing he’d ever done.

They seemed to pick up on the implications. “Ah. Well, uh, do you…have a pen? Or…” they trailed off as they noticed something on the desk they’d used to test the game. They reached over and grabbed it. A marker. Andy was suddenly thankful that 17 wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined, because he did not want to know what kind of havoc they could wreak being left alone in a room with a permanent marker for an hour and a half.

“I don’t have anything you could–” he was cut off when they suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled it toward them palm-first. It took him a moment to realize that they were writing something on it. Holy shit, their hands were soft.

17 released Andy’s hand and capped the marker. “There. Just hit me up whenever you get everything ready.” They slipped past him and began heading for the door to leave. Andy pulled his hand back, looking at his palm to see “T17” followed by a phone number.

“This had better be a real number,” he called after them. “You won’t weasel your way out of this that easily.”

“Call me if you don’t believe me,” they responded, turning their head to look back at him. Apparently satisfied that he’d heard them, they turned their head back and rounded the corner, and, faintly, Andy could hear, “I kinda like hearing your voice anyway.”

In the cocktail of emotions currently swirling in his brain, Andy was able to produce one coherent thought when he heard that.

Explains why they always did pack 6 like they were trying to break the speedrun record for it.

#self ship #self shipping #selfship #self ship fic #r: guilty pleasure #questionable writing tag

[adultswim2021]

Tim & Eric Nite Live #8: “Super Duper Tuesday” | February 5, 2008 | S01E08

This is one of the best things Tim & Eric have ever done, only marred momentarily by the presence of Rainn Wilson who stinks up the joint pretty good. Tonight's episode took place on Super Tuesday, 2008. I’ve mentioned this in passing before: the titles for these Nite Live episodes are taken from thetvdb.com, and I don’t believe they are very official. I could be wrong. Point is, I took “Super Duper Tuesday” to be a joke, but going to wikipedia revealed, with apparent sources (that I did not actually click on, let’s be fair) that this was actually labeled as “Super Duper Tuesday”. Weird thing to call a day that I’d sum up with a really mean meme.

That’s a long-winded way to give this piece of historical context: Barrack Obama and Hillary “MY TURN” Clinton were running against one another for the Democratic nomination to be the official candidate running for class pres against whatever Republican fucknut who got the republican nomination that year. I was working at Borders Books in Eureka, CA, and there was this one loser and his two loser friends who would just skulk around the mall saying caustic stuff. There was a small handful of times when I eavesdropped on him and it was usually racist, and also really stupid. The best one, by far, was when he looked at small table of Obama merchandise. “Who the fuck is this?” he asked his one friend. “He’s running for president” “Why? Because he’s all black and shit?”

In spite of my previous criticism that the previous episode of Nite Live went a little too well for my liking, this episode also has very little in the way of major off-the-rails moments. This one feels like they stuck to the script (or outline or whatever). In fact, the Tim and Eric wack pack are well-behaved enough that they don’t really break kayfabe. What I mean by this: Throughout the night, Tim and Eric refer to the democratic candidates only as “Bob Bop Perono” (Obama) and “Bill Clinton” (Hillary). Bob Bop Perono is just absurd, and it helps that the first time we hear the name is coming out of David Liebe-Hart’s mouth. I remember at the time believing that he was deranged enough to come up with this on his own, and that the supposed answering machine message was genuine, and perhaps served as the seed for the episode. 

When they first refer to Hillary as Bill, it’s very dashed-off by Eric, and almost seems like it’s unintentional. When they show the little graphic of Hillary with the words “Bill Clinton” underneath it I remember fucking losing my mind. I was recovering from hernia surgery, and it was extremely painful to laugh. I don’t even know why it’s so funny, but it is. 

Perhaps Dunn’s finest moment is in this episode: he’s the appointed Dunndit for this episode and he doesn’t like either of the candidates. “There’s too many mush mash” he says; I’m pretty sure he means “mush mouth”. He also says their clothes look like they come from the thrift store, and “they look like they’re ready for the zoo”. His delivery is so funny in this. 

James Quall gets some time to advocate for Bill Clinton, who he thinks looks like Shirley Jones. I tell you, Quall’s comedy hasn’t aged a day. Later, he goes head to head with DLH, telling a nightclub comedy routine style joke that Bill Clinton wrote a book “named for her and her admirers: It takes a BILL-age”. DLH, who seems mildly thrown by Tim and Eric’s straight-faced scolding (I failed to mention that they redressed the set for this to give the impression that they’re trying to do a serious news show, including a lot of needless graphics on screen, including a little Yoda that pops up for no reason), seems to speak from the heart advocating for “Bop Bob”, and then sings a song. The sincere moments from DLH seem to come from DLH being genuinely confused; he actually asks if they want him to sing or not. DLH ever not understanding the assignment is one of the things that makes this show so fun to watch.

Richard Dunn tallies the votes using poker chips, and this of course takes forever. I remember this being used as a Super Deluxe spot. Sometimes in place of Adult Swim bumpers (usually at the end of an episode of an Adult Swim program), Adult Swim would air a 15 second little promo for Super Deluxe, usually just a clip from one of their shows followed by a little Super Deluxe title card. The tallying results in a tie, after all that build-up. Tim and Eric propose a third candidate as a tie-breaker, asking Dunn who he thinks should be it. “George S. Bush Sr.” Dunn offers confidently. “Richard he’s been dead for ten years!” Eric shoots back, before taking our lord and savior’s name in vain. It’s worth noting that he was not in fact dead at the time of this episode. He wouldn’t actually die until over a decade after they made that joke. As of this writing he is currently in his fifth consecutive year of roasting in hell. 

Tim and Eric go down to the Nite Live Dungeon for an emergency seance. DLH seems to offer an emergency prayer off camera, though this isn’t totally audible. I just assume this is what Tim is saying “no” to (DLH would similarly go off book in the final episode of Nite Live as well, which is why I’m pretty sure this is what’s happening). I wish Tim took him up on that, because what follows is maybe one of the unfunniest moments of Nite Live history (in the best episode, no less!): Rainn Wilson as a wizard summoning George S. Bush Sr. It’s not TERRIBLE, but it’s… terrible. It’s terrible! His line to Tim “you’re cute as a button” is only funny because it’s the first clear shot of Tim’s little pony tail, one of the episode’s huge laughs. Technically this happens while Rainn Wilson is on screen, after saying something that’s mildly funny. So, not all is lost. 

This summoning actually works! George Bush Sr. actually shows up! It’s another one of Tim and Eric’s bad lookalikes. Rainn squishes the guy’s lips together as they cut away from the scene, BAD COMIC INSTINCTS, RAINN. Back in the main studio they do an in-nog-uration, where DJ Doug Pound dips Bush Sr.’s hand into a bowl of egg nog while ladling scoopfuls of the stuff onto the top of his hand. Bush vows to “be a loving man for the world and all the children of the country”. The credits roll while “Simply the Best” by Tina Turner plays.

Aside from Rainn’s reign, this is pound for (DJ Dougg) pound one of the greatest Tim and Eric things out there. I’ve revisited it far too often, but I can still recognize the greatness of it. The best Nite Live by far, and you know me, I like Nite Live.

#adult swim #adultswim2021 #tim and eric nite live

[abarbaricyalp]

Sorry, but I'm greedy: Sambucky post TWS crash hurt/comfort or Sambucky symbiote??

Hey! Thanks so much for asking! These are two of my favorites. WIP MEME

The Crash story is something I've played around with for years. It involves Sam and Steve being caught in a trap while destroying Hydra bases. Sam gets shot down and crashes and is rescued from the snow to wake up in a beautiful, warm, cabin. He's badly injured but has been well taken care of. Lo and behold, it was Bucky who found him and patched him up. Some reason some reason some reason, he can't leave the cabin and they get to know each other better as Bucky continues to take care of Sam. It's all recovery and Bucky taking care of Sam and soft, warm moments between them.

---

The symbiote fic is pure E rated nonsense. Bucky picks up the symbiote that's just straight unaccounted for in the Venom movie. But instead of feeding off of violence and brains, this symbiote has realized human hormones are just as satisfying and the best, most sustainable way to get a whole rush of hormones from humans is well... And it's just sultry nonsense and fun.

Snippets below the cut!

Bucky appeared in the doorway within seconds, a kitchen towel wrung between his fingers. His eyes darted across the surface of the water and along Sam's body to his face. He seemed to realize Sam wasn't drowning at the same time he remembered he was supposed to be cool and aloof.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, grabbing the towel he'd been using while he polished his boots earlier to now toss it over the puddle Sam had made on the floor.

Sam continued to stare at his bandaged hand in frustration. His thighs were shaking in the water and he pressed his knees together as much as he could. "I can't close my fingers," he ground out. He was well past trying to outlast Bucky. If he really wanted an answer, he'd stick around until he got it. And he only ever asked when he really wanted the answer.

"What?" Bucky asked. It sounded like genuine confusion. The same way he'd sounded when Sam had suggested lactose free milk. Like Sam had thrown him off and he was adjusting course backwards.

"I can't fucking..." He splashed the water with the non-bandaged hand. Water lapped up the trash bag wrapped around the heavier casting on his forearm. "I can't make a fist."

"What do you need to make a fist for? I already helped you scrub down. You're supposed to be relaxing."

Sam looked over at Bucky. He wanted his eyes to be blazing but he felt tears prick in them instead. "I just wanted to..." He splashed the water again. "Nothing. It's stupid."

Bucky sighed long suffering, like he was wont to do with small inconveniences and never the big ones. "Just tell me," he said, crossing back to his spot over Sam's right shoulder. He dragged the wash cloth through the water and carefully ran it over the newly exposed wound on Sam's chest again for good measure.

"No. It's not something you could help with," Sam insisted.

"What is it?" Bucky insisted. He squeezed the water out over Sam's head just to be an asshole.

"Jesus, I just wanted to--"

"Oh," Bucky said before Sam could finish. His fingers followed a rivulet of water down Sam's neck. Sam shivered and then shivered again when Bucky kneeled behind him and put his head very close to Sam's, chin almost on his shoulder. "Are you sure you don't want help?"

His fingers were stalled between Sam's shoulder blades, thumb tracing a slow circle. Sam shook his head.

"No you're not sure?" Bucky asked, fingers trailing over the knot of bad bruising on the back side of his ribs. "Or no you don't want help."

"I want..." Sam's voice faltered when Bucky skimmed over his ribs, as feather light as he was when he was changing bandages. "If you want..."

Bucky's chin finally settled on Sam's shoulder. His five o'clock shadow was at least four days old and it had grown out enough to not be coarse all over. Sam's head lolled against Bucky's as Bucky's right hand traced over his abdomen and slipped into the water.

"I want, if you want," he agreed lowly.

---------

Bucky stood in the doorway, one hand clenched around the towel at his hips. "There's something in me," he growled.

It was exactly the kind of thing he could be saying on any other night. But usually he'd be lounged over the door, all loose limbs and easy smirks. Sans towel. He'd toss the words out there like an invitation, let Sam do the rest of the work. He'd look like a dream come true.

Right now, he just looked constipated.

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Do you not want there to be? We don't gotta do anything tonight if you don't wanna," he offered. Reasonably. Obviously.

Bucky huffed out a breath and looked away with hard eyes. "Not like that. I mean like a--" He cringed then, hands coming over his ears. "I didn't say parasite!" he shouted.

#sambucky #writing #i answer things

[mythvoiced]

-. wenzhe-core (pt. 2 now with SAD) (main-verse)

will always look younger than he is i've cursed him like this on purpose and yes it is a curse if you're 22 and someone is surprised you're not a minor anymore (i'm talking from EXPERIENCE--)

not a single pen of his has ever made it to an ownership lasting longer than 2 weeks because he loses them all always without fail

holes for earrings, but only studs, and REALLY TIGHT because he will lose them in his bed and if he takes them off instead he'll lose them in his clothes or literally anywhere

taller than most his friends because most of his friends are (cis) girls and because girls gravitate towards him to have a lanky friend to block Bad Men with

love confessions by students (sO ICKY HE FEELS SO ICKY)

reading glasses wearer, 'where are my glasses' he asks while they sit on his head, reaches up to check if they're on his head and knocks them straight off his head

thinking the social network is one of the most tragic love stories he's ever seen

being way too passionate for a supposed ally and never realizing until it's too late

somehow managing to be extremely considerate between one ridiculous one-liner and the next

beautiful handwriting YES but useless because TOO SMALL

never needs to check a grocery list if he's made one he will remember every item

will promptly forget everything he intended to buy if he did not make a grocery list at one point

gets creative with his contacts and how he names them and then forgets who's who

never deletes or blocks a number, he needs to know if a bitch is trying to reach out again, if it is a bitch calling, he'll still pick up with 'hello? who's this?'

he's actually a massive compulsive liar but he's half-self-aware about it because half the time he'll say a lie that did not need to be one, like, he did not have to lie about that, what-- he'll just 'haha lmao anyways-' and follow it up with the truth

his self-irony sense of humour goes from: self-deprecating derailing mental health to narcissist in training, hardly any in between

every time a girl shows him a guy and asks for his thoughts he enters a final fantasy boss-fight in his head, on one side he doesn't want to vocalize if he's shit when he's shit and he can tell because it might hurt her, on the other if he's too positive and approving it sounds GAY--

about a game he has 500 hours on: gosh this game is so fucking stupid

wenzhe cannot legally consume anything with jam.es ch.ee.k in the cast it's bad for his bisexuality

yes, wenzhe does fulfill the bisexual meme of being completely at the mummy (1999)'s mercy

"there's this song i found in a spotify song radio that i think you should listen to" is basically wenzhe confessing his undying loyalty and love (any kind) towards you

can always be roped into handling more of a thing than what would be fair, and he'd do this while being completely self-aware he's being screwed over/he has too much on his plate already

has never had a boyfriend, has had romantic feelings towards men and has ruined friendships about it because he got weird about it

has had girlfriends but doesn't really have his shit together well enough to keep one, he's not a bad boyfriend per se but most people would like a little more attention, affection, initiative, you name it

conversations starting with 'did you know-'

acts of service, remembering your taste your favourites, things like that are his love language

has begun estranging himself from most of his relationships ever since Her death but subtly and slowly enough most'll probably only notice months down the line where suddenly 'hey... wait, has anyone heard from wenzhe lately?'

had an unsent text he wanted to send Her from after her death, the text read 'I'm so sorry'

broke his phone in the breakdown that followed that text, got a new phone, re-added her number to his contacts

hers is the only one he saved with her actual name (虞倩如, Yú Qiànrú)

guys i cannOT stress how close to spiraling he is lmao

#;ooc #the guilty;about #long post #these are going on his doc btw gonna open up a trivia section #fun drinking game would be trying to figure out which of these coincide with len-core HINT the earrings are one #death tw #loss tw #;queue