#ask mike
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askmikeharper · 29 days ago
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In the most respectful way possible, CAN I bite your arm. In the most respectful way possible, more respectful than the word 'respect'.
In the most respectful way. I ask you respectfully.
Doesn't that count as cannibalism? 😳
Why would you bite my arm?😱🤯
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mostlymadmike · 3 months ago
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Intro post
While this character is an adult, I'd prefer no NSFW/Flirty asks or RPs since the person behind this blog is a minor Also this blog will probably talk about drugs quite a bit, I do not support the usage and/or glorification of drugs.
OOC Info:
Main blog: @jacksepticeye-simp
Antisepticeye RP blog: @antisepticeye-simp
Darkiplier RP blog: @divine-ceo
Marvin RP blog: @marvinthemagicallymagnificent
Robbie RP blog: @superbrainyzombie
RP info:
-Mike uses he/they pronouns
-Mike is REALLY unstable and usually high on something
-Sells and consumes all kinds of shit
-Don't buy his ice cream, he put all kinds of shit in there
-Lives with Blank and Mrs Thompson
Tags:
#smudgedink - For @blank-game-plays
#askmike - Asks!
#icecold - RP threads/reblogs
(will probably add more stuff later)
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chloesimaginationthings · 7 months ago
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How Jeremy Fitzgerald survived the FNAF bite
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shrews-art · 4 months ago
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From the Heights
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morganbritton132 · 4 months ago
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Need a fic where Dustin goes into Hellfire real strong about Steve Harrington being his best friend and no one believes him. So he tries to prove it but Steve is just not working with him.
Like, he’s goes, “No, seriously. We’re best friends. Practically brothers. He’s going to pick me up today, just you see.”
But then Keith got sick so Steve’s stuck at work until closing so Claudia picks him up. She waved at him from the driver’s seat and Eddie is just like, “That you Steve Harrington or am I dreaming?”
“Ew, don’t say that.”
Eddie drives the boys to a game shop the next town over and on the way back, Dustin gets Eddie to stop in Loch Nora. He’ll prove that Steve is his friend.
But Steve isn’t home when they knock on his door and Steve’s dad doesn’t know who Dustin is (they’ve met three times). Dustin is just like, “Son of a bitch, thanks for nothing.”
Dustin decides he’s going to prove himself once and for all because the Hellfire boys keep giving him pitying looks. He invites Eddie over for dinner and then calls Steve like, “After work, be here.”
Except the reception was shitty so Steve heard “Ben-Hur” and just dropped the movie off with Claudia. He went home and never showed up for dinner. Dustin asked his mom to tell Eddie that he’s friends with Steve. She does but it sounds like a lie.
So he goes to the source.
He drags Eddie into Family Videos and tells Steve to tell him that they’re friend, but…Steve doesn’t. He blatantly ignores him. He helps customers. He types on the computer. He doesn’t acknowledge Dustin at all until finally, Dustin asks, “Is this about the tape?”
“Yes, it’s about the tape!” Steve explodes in exasperation. “It’s late! It’s on my account. I’m getting fees!”
“Oh my god, I’ll bring you the movie. Just say we’re friends.”
“Yes! We’re friends.”
But by then, Eddie had already left.
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kendallroyjenner · 24 days ago
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mike faist as jack twist and lucas hedges as ennis del mar in brokeback mountain 10/?
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novalunosiss · 19 days ago
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The "it was all a d&d game and they're back in Mike's basement" theory is so funny to me because like...
Assuming that everything that happens in the show is part of the "campaign", you're telling me a group of eleven year olds sat in a basement in 1983 and one of them was like "and what if my character is in love with your character and spends years quietly suffering, thinking his feelings are unrequited?" And the other went "got it" and started penciling emotional repression and internalised homophobia onto his character sheet.
Will: roleplaying, trembling voice "and when you're different, you feel like a mistake..."
Mike: age 11, scribbling furiously “he’s in love with me but I’m too emotionally repressed to notice.”
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gladiatorcunt · 1 year ago
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oooh art would be lowkey freaky. i feel like he’s also a super munch. he’ll let you sit on his face for hours!!
cw: 18+ mdni, cunnilingus, ambiguous era, afab reader, slight brat!reader, teasing, like two spanks (+ one instance of ass play + very slight anal fingering)
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Art devours you like no one else ever could, burying his tongue into your pussy for hours on end. If he could, he’d do it 24/7. He does it enough as it is away. As a wake up call, a way to say goodnight, in the shower, on your period, from behind while you’re cooking, in a pool chair, you get the gist. If you asked what he favorite sexual act to do with you was, there’s not a single doubt in your mind that it would be slurping up your pussy.
You’ve never sat on his face before though, too scared to break his neck after reading a story on your phone about that happening to someone else. It’d be a real mood killer to come down from you high to see your boyfriend dead to the world, literally. You didn’t talk about it again after the initial awkward discussion that ended with you dismissing it. But he just looks so hot in the early morning sun, a rare sleepy day in where you actually get to marvel at what Art looks like when he’s relaxed.
You bite your lip and shake him gently, trying not to shy away and curl up into a ball when he eventually groans and rubs his eyes open.
“Morning, baby.” He grunts in his husky morning voice.
He immediately puckers his lips for a kiss that you provide with less casual confidence than usual. His brow furrows, and he caresses the inside of your wrist with his thumb.
“What’s up? Are you hungry?” He asks you, thinking that you’re needing him to run and get you coffee or something.
You say no and play with your hands, the ache you’ve been feeling between your thighs only grows the more you look into his eyes.
“I just…. I need you.” You whisper.
Art squints his eyes, not sure what you mean. Then he recalls how he usually wakes you up in the morning, “Oh. You need me, huh?”
You nod and spread your legs, giving a view of your bare pussy. You took your underwear off earlier when the feeling got to be too much.
“Can you say it for me, angel? Tell me what you need and i’ll give it you.” He grins, teasing you. “If you woke me up, you must need whatever it is really bad.”
You roll your eyes and straddle him, sighing in bliss when he latches onto your hips. You’d put up more of a fight if you weren’t so horny, but you’ll let Art have his fun this time.
“I need you to eat me out.” You hold back the ‘obviously’ that you want to tack onto the end of your sentence.
Art’s grin widens and he makes you rock back and forth on his clothed bulge. He waist until you’re juices are wetting the fabric of his underwear before he pats your thigh, telling you to get off. You don’t budge and allow him to get into the typical position. Instead you lift your hips and shuffle up the bed until you’re hovering over his face.
“I want you to eat me out like this.”
Art’s grin falters as his eyes widen in shock for a second, you must really be pent up if you’re being this bold. He’s not complaining, he’d been waiting patiently for you to get comfortable enough to use him like a chair. You’re enough of a brat to change your mind if he acts too smug about getting what he wants even if you want it too though, so he tones it down.
“Get to it then, angel.” He smirks, his words trailing off into a satisfied sigh. “Give me a taste of this pretty pussy, don’t hold back.”
He flattens his tongue expectantly and leans his head back against the pillows.
Before you can even hesitate, Art snakes his arms under your legs and yanks your body down, making you drop your weight on him. You yelp but he doesn’t let you squirm away from his mouth. The sensation of his tongue lying still beneath you feels strange for a second, but a slap to your ass snaps you out of it enough to start moving your hips.
You shout and grab onto the headboard, getting yourself off on your boyfriend’s face. You play with one of your tits as you start to bounce on him, craving more of his tongue.
You reach down and tug on his hair, suddenly feeling too shy to make eye contact. He hasn’t looked away from you this entire time, and your cheeks warm in embarrassment at the thought of how messy you already look.
He winks at you, not moving at all and letting you take your fill. Well that’s not what you want anymore, so you tug his hair harder and beg.
“Please, baby, just tongue fuck me already. Don’t you want to? ‘m getting tired…” You whine, pouting down at him.
You stop your hips when you don’t get an answer. Art’s eyes crinkle in delight at your predicament, but he gives in to you. He always does, you just don’t like when he puts you on the spot and makes you wait like this. Secretly you kinda enjoy how he acts in bed, but you like putting up a fight way more.
Art curls his tongue around your clit and you throw your head back. He gives the throbbing bud a few customary sucks and then he jabs his tongue into your wet hole. You moan and grab onto his hair, bouncing on him in time with his tongue’s short thrusts. You roll your hips down against the slick appendage and cry out when it hits the right spot, grasping onto the headboard for dear life.
“Oh my god, feels so good! Wanted you in my pussy, need you there, sucking me dry-what the fuck, yes!” You squeal, firmly keeping his face nuzzled into your pussy and your thighs around his head.
His hands are playing with your ass while he eats you out. You’re mid bounce when you feel one of his thumbs prod at your ass hole, and the barest hint of having two of your wholes filled gets you moving faster on him. He spread your cheeks wider and kneads the flesh, jiggling them in his hands.
Art responds in kind and slides his tongue around whatever parts of your juicy pussy he can, scooping up your juices and guzzling them down as he stabs his tongue through your sopping folds.
You’d normally pull him back by his hair when you got close, not wanting to get him too dirty with your cum. But now you’re tightening your thighs over his ears and and stuffing his nose into your trimmed pubic hair, bouncing like your life depends on it.
Art spanks you again when your walls spasm around his tongue thirty seconds later. He gulps your orgasm down with love in his eyes and a heartbeat in his dick. He coos at your soft sniffles and massages your trembling thighs when you get up and collapse beside him.
“Thanks for breakfast, angel, I’d rate it 5 stars”. He laughs, half jokingly and half seriously.
“Whatever, perv.” You weakly smack him on the chest and groan, trying to keep your soul in your body. “Go get coffee… please.”
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jordiemeow · 2 months ago
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i love ur preacher’s daughter x dodge! thinking about them doing everything *but* actual sex cause it’s “not a sin” that way
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warnings: smut, 18+, f!receiving oral, handjob, everything but fucking tbh, mentions of religious guilt, reader watches him touch himself, a little bit of manipulation...
notes: not proofread i’m nauseous and horny ab cowboys so here x
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Dodge knew what he was getting into when he started dating you. That sweet girl that blushes and sputters when he suggests anything more than a kiss. Even a peck on the mouth had your cheeks hot to the touch and eyes averted at the start of your relationship.
But you're getting there. Or rather... he's getting there. Slowly but surely, you're growing more receptive to his subtle demands for more. You stop protesting when his tongue slips into your mouth, or his hand slides a little too far up your skirt. No more making excuses to go when your goodnight kiss in his truck gets a little too heated.
He takes it as his sign to push a little further. As far as your daddy knows, you're at Bible study with your friends. Not sitting with your knees planted on either side of Dodge, his tongue exploring the warm cavern of your mouth as his hands massage up and down the back of your thighs under your dress. There's a movie playing from his TV—Pride and Prejudice borrowed from his sister, because you dubbed the rest of the DVD sets under his bed 'too inappropriate.' Bless your poor little heart.
It's clearly long forgotten. The pair of you are more focused on swallowing each other's soft moans to care about the quartet playing behind you. And then, suddenly, you feel a finger glide over the front of your white underwear, and you jolt forward, forehead bumping against his.
"D-Dodge—"
He hardly flinches at the collision, smiling so innocently at you that you're almost convinced it never happened. "What?"
"You can't—" You take a moment to collect yourself. Swallow thickly. "Too much."
"Why?" His head tilts.
"Because it's a sin," you reply, as if he's stupid. "You can't touch me there. The... the good Lord's watchin'!"
"He watches everything else we do. Why's this any different?"
He has to swallow back a laugh when he watches the way your brows pinch together as you think that through. Logic is very hard to come by when his hand is still resting on the inside of your thigh.
"Well, it's almost—" You pause, lowering your voice to a hushed whisper, "—sex."
Dodge smiles. How cute.
"It's not sex, sweetheart," he says, mimicking your hushed tone. His other hand moves up to pet the back of your head as if to console you. "Don't count unless there's penetration."
You eye him warily. "What do you mean?"
"Well, what's the Bible say about it? No sex without intention to procreate 'n' all that bullshit?" He ignores your pout at the way you call the teachings bullshit. "Can't even be sex if my cock—"
"Dodge."
"What else am I supposed to call it?"
"Just don't say it at all!"
He sighs. Starts over again. "What I'm tryin' to say is that a little bit of touching ain't a sin. No penetration. Not even like our..." He pauses to search for the most appropriate word he can think of. "Parts... will be touchin'."
You frown a little, mulling that over in your head. Well, it makes sense to a certain extent. Besides, if touching in any capacity is a sin, you're already going straight to Hell for how many times he's had a calloused hand cupping your breast or squeezing your ass. It still just seems like a little much though...
"But the sin is lust, not the actual— oh—"
His fingers brush over you again, and the innocent smile from earlier isn't so innocent anymore when you meet his eyes. "Stop worryin' your pretty little head, darlin'. I promise you it's not a sin. Right hand up to God." Funny, considering his right hand is currently the one snuck under your dress and touching your clothed cunt.
You try again. "But Dodge—"
"But what?" He says, fingers dragging back and forth against you in a way that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. "You don't trust me?"
You shake your head. "No, no, I trust you."
He hums. "So, what, you don't want it? Is that it?"
The truth is, you do want it. He's hardly doing more than lazily rubbing you through your panties and there's already an unfamiliar stirring in your gut. Like the build-up of something that could be absolutely explosive. The Big Bang, your brain traitorously supplies. Now you feel even worse. You've never even tried to touch yourself before—considered it, sure, but any time your hand ended up toying with the inseam of your sleep shorts it was quick to retract. You've had to apologise to the picture of Mary overlooking your bed a few times for the almost-slips.
"... No," you lie, straight through your teeth.
But he laughs. He's no idiot. He can see the way your gaze is fixed on his forehead rather than his eyes. Can feel the way your thighs clench tighter with each drag of his fingers, your cunt pulsing a little too eagerly for someone who doesn't want this. "No?" He repeats mockingly. His mouth moves to hover right by your ear, and you shiver at the warm puff of air against it. "Then why are you so wet?"
"Well, that's... that's natural!" You insist weakly.
"Is it?" He muses. "You always walk around with your panties damper than a horse's back on a summer's day?"
You wither under the amused look he gives you. You know he's just being an ass now. But there's a glint in his eyes—not quite mischief, something a little darker than that. Something that makes any thoughts of the fiery depths turn to mush.
"... Promise it's not a sin?" You ask tentatively.
Dodge offers you the pinky of his other hand, and the one between your legs stills for just a moment. Your lip catches between your teeth, indenting the soft flesh as you weigh up the truth behind his words. Deep down, a part of you knows that he's just bullshitting you to get his way. You could be about to commit the most heinous sin imaginable and he wouldn't give two shits.
... But then his hand starts back up again, and before you know it, your pinky is looped through his.
It doesn't take long before your dress is hitched up and you're on your back, hair spilling over his pillow. Your panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, a leg hooked over his shoulder as his mouth laps at your sensitive parts. What started as kitten licks and gentle circles of his fingers quickly turned into something else.
Now you feel as if he's trying to devour you.
"S’that good, sweetheart? Feel nice?"
"Nggghh, yeah. Oh my goodness—"
There's been a few times where he's been tempted to slip a finger in. Ease you open, feel the way you tighten around his digits when you climax for the first time. But he'd said no penetration, and Dodge has a feeling you'd be on his ass about semantics. He'll work you up to that eventually, he's sure of it.
So he sticks to working you over with his mouth. Eagerly lapping up the sweet juices your cunt provides him with every time his thumb flicks over your clit just right, his other hand threaded through one of your own. Thumb reassuringly rubbing over the back of your knuckles despite the faster pace his other hand is taking.
And despite the fact his mouth is mostly occupied, he doesn’t stop talking you through it the entire time. "Just like that, angel. Keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me. Y’sound so sweet. Taste so sweet."
Or he tuts. "Keep your legs open. That’s it, uh huh. That’s my girl."
A groan this time. "Fuck, can’t believe I waited so long to do this. S’heavenly, baby."
Neither of you even notice the credits of the movie rolling. All you can hear is your own keening moans and the lewd sound of his tongue lapping at your pussy. The feeling is foreign, unfamiliar, but the peak of ecstasy you're approaching has you thinking life in eternal Hell might not be so bad if this is what you get to experience down there.
That thought is quickly cut off when your orgasm crashes over you. Sudden, overwhelming, your back arching up off the bed as your entire body jolts with pleasure. You swear you black out for a minute, and he takes great pleasure in the way your lashes flutter and your eyes roll back.
The greatest part of all is the cry you let out. "Yes, Dodge, God, yes, yes, yes!" It's blasphemous, the way you worship both him and the Lord in one breath.
He works you through it diligently. Not a drop goes to waste, and he's still moaning against you when your own whimpers die down. When he's fully sated and some of the trembling in your body has subsided, a firm kiss is placed against your inner thigh before he rises back up your body to tuck your hair behind your ear.
All you can manage is a dopey smile, and he grins crookedly. "Worth it?"
"I think so," you say breathlessly.
When you drop to your knees by your bed that night, Rosary beads threaded through your fingers and head bowed, you apologise profusely. But you haven't been smote down yet, maybe you'll be okay.
... Maybe.
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It becomes a bit of a routine after that. Whether it's in his truck with your leg hitched up on the dashboard or when he has the house alone, Dodge just can't get enough of eating you out. And every time, you go back to pretending it never happened. You're still daddy's little angel.
There's a pleasant buzz running through your body as Dodge tugs your underwear back up for you, looking just as smug as ever. Dimpled smile, chin still slick with your wetness, as he eases your skirt back down for you. One would think it'd get less intense over time... but God, he has your toes curling and legs trembling each time his mouth descends on your cunt.
"Y'know," he starts, sitting up on his knees and giving your dishevelled state an approving once-over. "I think I might go a lil' insane if I don't get some attention of my own."
It's enough to give you pause. Fair enough—he's spent the last few weeks nestled between your folds and never once asked you to return the favour. But you've never touched a man like that before.
He catches your hesitation. Reaches out to thumb at your cheek, gaze softening a little. "Ain't gotta do nothing, sweetheart. But the blue balls are killin' me."
Blue balls. You almost roll your eyes. "So... what, then?" You ask, shifting to sit up as your fingers curling into the soft fabric in your lap.
He doesn't reply right away. Tilts his head, gauges your expression. "Can I show you? Won't take much. You ain't gotta touch me or nothin'."
Don't even have to touch him... you cast a cursory glance to his door, even though there's nobody home. Your lip is already bitten raw from stifling sounds all evening, but you're back to biting at it.
"Okay."
"Okay?" His eyes light up. He leans forward, a hand braced on your knee. "You sure?"
"Doesn't count if there's no penetration," you parrot the words he told you weeks ago. He smiles. "And... you said I don't have to do anything, right? Bit of watchin' can't hurt."
"Just lookin'," he affirms. For now, anyways.
His hand leaves your thigh to undo the buckle of his jeans, and your eyes follow the movement. There's a lump in your throat and you know you're going to be repenting for this one tonight. Maybe it's time to find some other church to confess at. Certainly not your father's, but you need to get this off your chest somewhere.
His jeans are pulled open, the tension easing off the bulge that seems to be straining there every time he gets his mouth on you. It doesn't take much for his cock to be freed, jeans and boxers down just enough to put him on display.
You swallow. You're definitely going to Hell.
You've seen pictures of them in passing. Dicks, cocks, penises. Whatever vile name the youth has come up with these days. The kind of pictures shared between a few girls at a sleepover, or a cock shown during a movie your father wouldn't approve of you watching. You've never been close enough to see one like this, though. Aching and leaking under the weight of your darkened eyes.
He takes note of your expression. The lust mixing with guilt.
"A little different in person, huh? No camera lenses?" He teases.
"Dodge, shut up. Just... just get on with it, please."
He rolls his eyes but obliges. Can't have you suddenly changing your mind because he gets a bit too cheeky. A firm hand wraps around him, and he begins to stroke himself. Slowly at first, watching the way your lips are parted and the breaths you take seem sharper. The quick rise and fall of your chest doesn't go unnoticed to him.
Feels real fuckin' good to be watched, though. Each jerk of his palm smears pre-cum down his throbbing length, the slick slide obscenely loud in the quiet of his bedroom. A low moan escapes him. Rough, completely unrestrained, so loud it almost makes you jump.
Your gaze snaps up to his face to watch the way his brow pinches with pleasure. You've never seen him like this—is this how you look when he's between your legs? The thought makes you flush. God. He's pretty like this, head tilted back and eyes half-lidded as he watches you absorb every second of his pleasure like it's your own. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. Breath-taking, staggering, perfect—
Sacrilege. Blasphemous. Impious.
You swallow thickly, but you can't take your eyes away.
"You, uh, sure you don't wanna get in on this?" He asks, his voice rough in a way you've never heard before. You find your thighs clenching again as you look back down to the filthy way he's started to fuck up into his fist.
"Dodge."
"What?" He asks innocently, a breathy note to his words. "I'll let you in, sweetheart. Just a little touch. Wouldn't have to do nothin'. Let me do all the heavy-liftin', eh?"
You shouldn't. You've done enough sinning for a lifetime over the last few weeks. Cried yourself to sleep a few times, too. And yet you go against every value that's been instilled with you for years to just touch.
A tentative little brush of your fingers against the underside. It's careful, hesitant and soft. His breath grows ragged. "That ain't so bad, is it?"
You shake your head. "And the... the white stuff. That's a good thing, right?"
"Real good," he laughs. He can feel himself tensing up; you aren't doing much to help, not physically, but with the pressure of his own hand and the way your eyes are on him... Lord, he won't be lasting much longer.
There's a pretty pink flush to his cheeks now. Eyelashes fluttering with each heavy breath, and the way his neck is exposed is giving you the strangest desire to lean in and kiss it. Bruise it, even. Your eyes avert guiltily, hand back in the safety of your lap.
"No, no, no. C'mon. Eyes on me."
"I can't, this is—"
"Please," he rasps. The hint of desperation catches you by surprise. "Want you to see it happen."
Heavenly father, please forgive me. Your eyes are on him again, watching the way his hips lift off the bed. It creaks with each movement, each glide of his hand down his cock. And that little flicker of scrupulosity in your eyes is what sends him over the edge.
"Fuck, yeah, I'm gonna— ah, ah, ah—" His cock pulses, white ropes coating his hand and the hem of his shirt. Face contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as he makes a sound you've never heard from him before.
A whine.
You shuffle back a little—disgusted or intrigued by the sight of the cum spilling out of him, you aren't sure. But you're completely enraptured by the look on his face and the gasps that escape his parted lips. The only sound in the room for a few moments is his heavy breathing as he strokes lazily through the last of his orgasm, pleasure still buzzing faintly through him.
And when your eyes finally meet, you both laugh. Dodge's is hoarse. Yours is a little tentative. And then your sides are shaking and eyes twinkling. God, you can't believe that just happened.
"That's never happening again," you tell him. He grins, like he knows you're lying.
You are. You do it again. And again, until you're bold enough to be the one doing the stroking. It's only a matter of time before his little no penetration excuse goes out the window.
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north-noire · 1 year ago
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perhaps catching up a bit wouldn't hurt?
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dailyhatsune · 3 months ago
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miku but shes eating your 14 1/2 terabyte "homework" file
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i actually did just export a “test_1” file. but i’m smart enough to export it as an mp4 instead
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askmikeharper · 29 days ago
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Hello there! Welcome! It’s nice to see someone new here! My name is Chernov, I see that you are one of David’s friends? Feel free to drop by my cabin if you ever want/need too, I’d be happy to have you! ^w^
- @askchernov
Hey Chernov!
Nice to meet you. Is this an invitation to a cozy evening? 😏 Sounds nice (there are ladies there too)
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eeriesilkworm · 1 month ago
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The painting and Rink-O-Mania situation from Mike’s perspective is actually crazy
I mean think about it:
You just realised you don’t like girls and that you have feelings for your best friend the day he leaves for California. (Worst timing ever??)
You unexpectedly get back together with your girlfriend on that day too, but how the hell are you supposed to tell her that kissing her was your gay awakening when she just said, “I love you” to you?
So fucking awkward.
So now you’re stewing in purgatory hell, entering your freshman year of high school (which is already hard enough) and pining for your friend who never picks up the phone and won’t even call you back for eight months.
Plus, distance makes the heart grow fonder, so you’re definitely experiencing some angsty teen gay limerence. But you're holding out hope, because it seemed like he was sending you some signals last year... right?
Then you get a letter from El that Will has been painting a lot, acting weird, and that there’s probably someone he likes. Oh, and that someone might be a girl. LOL ok. FML. He’s not been calling you, so it must be someone else. Cool. Real fucking cool.
Then when you get to the airport and finally meet him, you’re so nervous you can’t even make eye contact or hug him properly. But he doesn’t even seem nervous at all. Also when the fuck did he get lowkey buff?
But he’s holding a painting! OMG yay! Maybe the painting was for you the whole time. There isn’t someone else, thank god. So, you ask about it. Like, immediately.
And he just completely rebuffs you? He brought it to the airport to pick you up and it’s not even for you? First, that was embarrassing. Second, what the fuck?
You just keep playing it cool and smile through the pain. Then El mentions a place called Rink-O-Mania. OH. Will is bringing the painting to Rink-O-Mania. He wants to give it to someone there.
Ok, time to put on your investigative goggles. Who’s going? Any of El’s friends? You glance Will’s way to see if he reacts. Will asks, “What friends?” He also wants to know who’s coming. Then, “Angela?” Will seems out of sorts. This Angela girl must make him nervous. Fuck. Since when did Will like girls anyway?
Then you get to Rink-O-Mania and there’s no Angela in sight. Will is mopey. He won’t even laugh at your jokes. He keeps rolling his eyes. He really doesn’t even want to be here. It’s like he doesn’t even care that you just got here!
This Angela chick finally shows up, but you get a little distracted by her friend. He’s kind of cute. He has nice hair. It kind of looks like… oh god he kind of looks like Will. Never mind. Get yourself together. Angela doesn’t seem to even notice Will – maybe it’s one-sided. Good.
You’re so distracted that you don’t even notice El is not comfortable with these people. Will is super concerned. What’s his problem? Jealous? Hah! Not so nice, is it?
And then oh, ok. El is being bullied. El is being bullied and has been for a while, and no one thought to tell you so now you look like a complete asshole. Great. Also, since when did Will know more about El than you? What are you now – the third wheel? Why is no one telling you anything?
And then Will has the gall to be angry at you. You who has been a SAINT. Piously waiting and pining on him. Trying to do the right thing, trying to be a good boyfriend. Trying to find the right time and the right words to tell her the truth even though it’s fucking scary. But honestly, what’s even the point? The guy you’re in love with doesn’t even like you back and thinks you're an asshole.
Plus, he complains that you only called a few times, when you tried to call a lot more. The phone was always busy. He was the one who barely called back! What is this? Some sick cosmic joke? Then your girlfriend loses her shit and schmacks Angela in the face in front of so many people… this is officially the worst day ever. Jesus Christ.
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eyeball-jam · 4 months ago
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world is theirs’
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ellewluvr · 2 months ago
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college room-mates 1992
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kidovna · 11 months ago
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from this fic by @andiwriteordie
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