#hes literally so fuckin hysterical

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 105

 A cult summons the ghost king. Except they don’t. Instead they get these tiny white-haired triplets of toddlers blinking at the summoning circle looking confused. 

 They’ve gotten the ghost princes and princess instead. 

 The very young princes and princess who are none too pleased and going to cause problems on purpose for both rogues and heroes alike. As godlings de-aged into their ghost age are like to do. 

 Meanwhile in the Realms, Pariah is staring down at where his trio of ghost toddlers that Clockwork had handed him when he had first woken up and was still groggy just disappeared from. He looks over at Fright Knight, his dearest brother, who looks just as shocked. 

 Clockwork is going to kill them both if they don’t get the kids back now. 

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

why didn't anyone tell me that Hannibal is a comedy

[noxturnalpascal]

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

(FrankieMorales  x  F!Stripper!Reader)

A/N & Warnings: Sexual Content below - 18+ only, Frankie doing what he do (iykyk), unspecified age gap (anywhere from 10-15 yrs), talk of stripping/dancing as a job that pays the bills. The photos on the Moodboard are just for fun, the female Reader is not specifically physically described so you can imagine her however you want. Thank you to @saradika for the divider.

Did I make this prompt up myself for me and some fellow writers? Yes. Did I set the word count limit? Also Yes. Did I stick anywhere even close to that limit? *laughs hysterically.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) 

*1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum

WC: 4749  (I have a problem)

Frankie’s mouth was hanging open. He knew he should close it. He knew he looked like a weirdo. He knew he was about to get a “Catfish, lookin’ like a fish” joke from his friends. But for the life of him he couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, or close his gaping jaw.

Not since his babysitter walked on stage and started taking her clothes off.

To be fair, you're not his babysitter anymore. Not since he called you three weeks ago asking if you could babysit for him tonight and you broke the news to him that you'd gotten a new job and couldn't babysit anymore. At least now he understands why you left the not-so-lucrative world of babysitting for an arguably better-paying gig. 

You've only been dancing for two minutes and he already sees more money on the stage than he would've paid you to sit his kid tonight. He’s been watching as you undulate your body across the stage, bending and dipping, stripping down to your underwear. Even though part of him thinks he should, he definitely doesn’t look away when you divest yourself of your lacy little bra.

He always thought you were hot. He was a newly-single dad, interviewing you for a semi-regular babysitting gig. He tried to focus on your resume and your qualifications. He tried to breathe through his mouth so he couldn’t smell your delicate perfume. He tried to ignore the dewy pink lipgloss you had spread across your mouth, which is in stark contrast to the bright red lipstick you are currently sporting.

He was very motivated by the fact that you, as a graduate student in your mid-20’s, seemed more responsible to leave his kid with than the other applicants to his babysitting ad, all of whom were literal teenagers. But truth be told - you were also really fucking hot. Horny dad and the hot babysitter, what a fucking cliche he was.

However, in the eleven months you babysat for him, he never acted on his inappropriate attraction to you. He never treated you as anything other than an employee. You’d show up to his house, hair in a messy bun, wearing comfy clothes, ready to sit on the living room floor all evening playing with his kid. He was polite, and respectful, and was almost positive you never caught him staring at your tits.

Your tits that he’s most definitely staring at right now. Holy shit you have great tits.

“Fuckin’ A Fish, if you’re gonna keep your mouth open, you could at least pour some beer into it.”

“Huh?” Frankie snaps his head back to the table he’s sat at, surrounded by his friends. They all chuckle. 

“We’re about to order the next round and you didn’t even drink any of that one yet,” Benny says as he points to the dripping bottle in Frankie’s hand.

Oh, sorry, Frankie mumbles as he pushes the now-warm bottle to his lips and begins to drink the beer down, his eyes moving back to the stage. The entire club is lit only by colored lights that coordinate with the twirling lights and lasers pointed at the stage, pulsating to the tempo of the music you’ve picked. Fog rolls across the floor of the stage, cascading over the edge. 

There’s a single golden pole at an outcropping of the stage that you’re now gripping with both hands, sticking your ass out towards the audience and giving it a wiggle. You let go of the pole and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties. You slowly begin to push them down and just as the crack of your ass comes into view Frankie momentarily forgets that he can’t swallow liquid and breathe at the same time. 

He begins to sputter and cough, choking on the bubbly liquid and spurting it across the table onto the faces of half of his friends. He’s met with groans, curses, and several swats to the back of his head as he attempts to get his wheezing under control, and the fluid out of his trachea.

Santi, who somehow managed to avoid Frankie’s beer-foam projectile, slaps a palm on Frankie’s shoulder and says,

“Guys, Frankie’s real sorry, he’s just never seen a naked woman before.”

The laughter at Frankie’s expense serves as some form of forgiveness, and everyone slowly goes back to flirting with the wandering dancers and ordering their second round. Santi keeps his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and leans into Frankie’s personal space.

“You alright?” Santi asks, squeezing his friend’s shoulder firmly.

Frankie manages to mutter a strangled yeah before several rounds of trying to clear his throat. The lights have dimmed, sinking the club temporarily into a hazy darkness. He briefly registers that the song you were dancing to has ended, so you’ve most likely left the stage.

Santi laughs, shaking his head. He moves his mouth right to Frankie’s ear, almost whispering.

“When I convinced Will to have his bachelor party at this club I thought you’d be the one making your hot babysitter choke, not the other way around,” and he claps Frankie on the back hard, “if you know what I mean.”

Frankie’s eyes go wide as he meets Santi’s crooked grin, but his friend offers nothing more as he moves to the other side of the table, turning his devilish smile on the waitress. He orders two beers and three shots for each man, dismissing the groans of protest from the table. Bachelor Down!, he shouts at Will as everyone does their shots and chases them with cheap beer.

You approach the table full of men with seven other dancers, each of you assigned by the club to give a 20-minute private dance to one of the members of the bachelor party. You’re each in various states of dress, but most are only half-dressed. You’re back in your lacy underwear set - panties and bra - but the sheer nature of the fabric leaves little to the imagination. 

Your previous job as a part-time nanny worked while you were an undergrad. When you started law school it became too much and you had to switch to more infrequent evening babysitting gigs so you had your days free for school and studying. Unable to keep up with school payments you recently had to find something new. Something that only required night and weekend availability, but paid really well.

Enter: Stripping. 

You’ve only been doing this job for a little over a month but you’d quickly gotten very comfortable with being naked in front of strangers. You had your little dance routine and could easily make flirty banter with the club’s customers. Your boss was impressed enough that he’d started assigning you party gigs with some of the other girls, like this bachelor group.

You walk up to the group of strangers, the rest of the girls fan around the table as you’re left standing just behind a broad-shouldered man with a baseball cap on, curls sticking out from under the back strap. You turn to the man with a big smile on your face.

Holy Fuck. 

Not a Stranger.

It’s Francisco Morales. The hot dad you until-recently babysat for.

He looks at you sheepishly. Your hands immediately fly to cover your breasts, suddenly mortified that your nipples are showing through your nearly-transparent choice of outfit. 

“Mr. Morales!”

“Oh I- I already,” he begins to stutter. Is he telling you that he’s already seen your tits? 

You look around at the collection of empty beer bottles and shot glasses on the table and figure that they’ve all been here for much longer than just your dance. So covering your nipples does nothing for your modesty as hot dad has probably already seen everything. You drop your arms to your side, attempting to look relaxed and casual.

“So I-uh. I guess you found a babysitter for tonight.”

He laughs. He actually laughs at your awkward attempt at diffusing the tension. Thank god. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can say anything one of his friends is speaking to the group. He explains that “everyone gets a private dance” and no one can object - and he looks right at Mr. Morales when he says this - because “it’s all been paid for already.”

Following the lead of the other girls you gently grab Mr. Morales’ hand, missing the looks back and forth between him and his friend. You do your best to confidently lead him back to the private rooms with the rest of his group. There are a dozen rooms in the hallway and eight of them have been held in reserve for this bachelor party group. Pulling him inside the last room on the right, you close the door behind you. 

The room is dim, save for the red glow of the lights. The ceiling and floor are both painted black and the three walls without the door are mirrored. Towards the left is a single high-backed black leather chair facing a brass pole that sits in the exact center of the room. On the far side of the room is a curved loveseat against the wall.

This should be easy. Not just because this is your job but because unlike any other man you’ve ever led back here, this is a man you are extremely attracted to. 

This is a man you have fantasized about.

You’ve imagined his curls between your fingers when you’ve grabbed a fistful of a customer's hair, imagined that it’s his stubble scratching between your breasts when you’ve pressed them close. You’ve envisioned his wide chest as you ran your hands down their front, his massive paws in your hands as you’ve taken their sweaty palms and placed them on your rolling hips. 

You’ve wished they were his thighs that you were grinding your ass onto and his erection that you all-too-frequently felt pressing into you. That should make this easy. But instead you’re super fucking nervous. Even more nervous than your first night here, when you dragged your panties down your legs and bent over, exposing your pussy lips to a packed room of strangers. 

What makes you most nervous is probably that the fantasies didn’t stop in the club. It would be one thing if they were just here, serving as a comfort, self-soothing by putting a familiar face in place of a groping stranger’s face. But that’s not the truth. You’ve imagined him at home too. 

In the shower, pretending your hands were his hands as you pinched and plucked at your wet nipples. Daydreaming about his weight on top of you, fucking into you, as you drove one of your toys in and out of your wet cunt. 

And if you’re being perfectly honest, you can admit that it’s been going on for almost a year, since shortly after he hired you to be his babysitter. Remembering the times you’d made yourself come on his couch, hours after his kid had fallen asleep, waiting for him to return home from a night out with his friends. Your hand stuffed down the front of your pants, petting your clit to the thought of him on his knees in front of you.

You never thought you’d actually be naked in front of your fantasy-DILF. This is like being slapped in the face with your own wet dreams. This is kind of a nightmare.

“Listen, you don’t have to-” he begins just as you start to speak as well.

“Mr. Morales I know-” and you both stop and let out breathy, nervous laughs.

“C-Can you please stop calling me Mr. Morales?”

“Oh sorry! Is that weird?”

“It sounds like the start of a bad porno,” he groans, laughing again. “Please just call me Frankie.”

“Of course, I’m so sorry Mist- Frankie. Sorry. Frankie.”

You both break out in laughter again, loudly this time, hoping to finally diffuse some of the tension. A knock sounds at the door and a deep voice - security - asks if everything is alright. You shout back that everything is fine and the room quiets down.

“I should start the music and get going,” you say quietly, motioning for him to sit on the curved red velvet seat against the far wall.

You press a button above his head and music starts up, the first of three songs forming a 10-minute loop that will repeat for this booking. You look into the mirrored wall to your left and notice how nervous you look. Then you meet his eyes in the mirror. Why does he look just as nervous?

You straddle one of his legs and shakily reach back to undo the clasp on your bra. You meet his eyes again. Fuck he can see how your hands are shaking. You look like such a fucking kid. A goddamn amateur. This is going to be the least-sexy lapdance he’s ever been given. 

You can’t stop the gasp that leaves your lips when you suddenly feel his hot hands covering yours at your back. 

“You can leave this on if you’d be more comfortable,” he says softly, barely heard over the pumping bass of the music.

“No I’m fine, I’m just…” you don’t know how to explain to him without embarrassing yourself but suddenly you’re making an admission and the word-vomit has left your mouth before you can even do anything to stop it. “I just always thought you were hot.” 

There it is. It’s out there now. 

He opens his mouth to say something and your nerves bubble up and come out as more words and why the fuck are you talking more?

“I know, I know,” you spit out before he can get a word in, “the babysitter thirsting after the hot dad, how prosaic, right? Talk about a bad porno.”

His warm hands still touching you, he slowly moves his fingers around yours, deftly undoing the clasp of your bra for you.

“It’s okay, I kinda… thought you were hot too,” his admission slips out in a whisper.

You really want to kiss him right now. But that would be a very bad idea. Security patrols the hallway and the door has a small window towards the top of it. It allows security to peek inside and see from the shoulders up. Usually if they can see your shoulders, all is good. If they can’t see your shoulders, it gives them an idea if rules are being broken or if the girls need help. 

Kissing - among other things - is against the rules.

You barely turn to look at the windowed door but you’re embarrassed to think that Frankie must know what you’re thinking because it’s like he can read your mind. Or maybe he’s just thinking about kissing you too? Either way he puts his hands back down to his sides and lets you lean into him, allowing your bra to slowly shift down your shoulders until it falls into his lap.

Your tits are right in his face. You’re half naked in front of the hot dad whose child you used to babysit. The hot dad who you’ve pictured doing this exact thing with - and more. But he’s not even looking at your tits. He’s looking you right in your eyes and making you feel more naked than you’ve ever been in your whole life.

He shouldn’t be here, not doing this, not with you. He should ask for a different girl. He should tell the security guy to kick him out. He’s making you so uncomfortable, he can tell by your twitching movements and halting breaths. He can’t stop staring at you like he’s some kind of lonely creep, what a fucking weirdo he’s being.

You position your legs on the outside of his, keeping his legs slightly open and his hands obediently face-down on the couch next to him. You’re straddling him but hovering above his lap, seemingly careful not to touch him. When you put your hands on his shoulders to brace yourself you begin to stiffly roll your body towards and then away from him.

He doesn’t know where to look. He can’t keep looking at your face, he knows the eye-contact is getting very disturbing. Why the hell did he tell you he kinda thought you were hot too? At least he didn’t admit the truth, that he thought you were fucking supernova-hot. He’s had to bite his tongue countless times to stop from asking you out.

He focuses his eyes at the hollow dip that lies at the base of your throat. It has a dance of its own, moving slightly with your pulse and rolling with your shallow breaths, the rise and fall of your chest a baseline rhythm. He tries not to think about your bare breasts just below, breasts that he’s thought about putting his hands on every single time you’ve walked into his house for the last year. 

He can see your deep red lips in his peripheral vision, and immediately the image of those lips on his skin is conjured. He pictures a chaste kiss planted on his cheek followed by a less-chaste thought of his thumb pressed into your mouth, your eyes looking up at him while your lips leave a red ring on his hand. He needs to fucking calm down. This is just a dance. You’re at work doing your literal job.

He suddenly notices you’ve almost completely stopped moving. He looks up at your face and you’re wearing a tight, pained expression. His brows furrow. Oh no. What’s wrong? Is his erection noticable? Is he creeping you out too badly? Do you want him to leave? He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but you silence him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulders.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t touch me,” you squeak out in a strained whisper.

In the back of his head a part of him thinks that he shouldn’t immediately cave. It shouldn’t be this easy. Part of him thinks he should need more than just you saying that. 

But he doesn’t. At all.

He slowly slides his body down the sofa, pushing his frame between your legs. You move your feet apart to accommodate his wide shoulders once you realize he won’t fit otherwise. He stops when his ass is sitting on the floor and his head is just above the seat of the sofa, you towering over him. He reaches down and begins to take off your platform heels one at a time. 

As your bare feet hit the floor you run your hands up your neck, over your face, and through your hair, your knees knocking at his shoulders. Touching you gently with only two fingers on each hand, he pushes on the backs of your thighs, guiding you even closer to his face. He grabs your feet and holds them in his hands, forcing your legs to fold and pushing your knees past his ears as his head rests back on the seat.

You’re kneeling at the edge of the sofa, shins on the cushion, feet dangling over his shoulders, your toes curled in his massive hands on his chest, and his head between your thighs. Your face still looks uneasy, and he can just make out whining noises over the music. High-pitched and breathy, the way a dog would beg for scraps at the dinner table.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna touch you now,” he growls.

You grab the brim of his hat and twist it off his head, immediately diving your fingers into his locks. He squeezes your toes and you take his cue, lifting your hips and canting them towards his waiting mouth. Latching his mouth onto your underwear, he runs his tongue up and down your covered seam. 

He feels you begin to rock your hips into his face, rolling your body above him. Any security who looked in the window would see your shoulders moving to the beat and assume you were kneeling on the couch and giving a lap dance. He can only barely see you from his angle, sees the lace of your panties, sees your wrists grabbing at his hair.

Letting go of one of your feet, he grabs at your wrist, dragging your hand from his head to the front of your own underwear. You run your fingers down yourself, parting them around his mouth, letting his tongue tangle in them. Then you grab the edge of the gusset and pull it to the side.

Wasting no time, he immediately begins to lick at your folds, tasting the wetness that has gathered there. A lot of wetness. Christ, you’re so fucking wet. His nose touches just below your clit and a string of your arousal attaches him to you when he pulls back slightly.

A slight pause in the music has his heart stop and his stomach in his throat. After a couple seconds - that seem to stretch on forever - the first song begins playing again, restarting what must be a looped set of music. 

That must mean this private dance-time is halfway over. Ten minutes left but since you two probably started after everyone else you might not have the full ten minutes of privacy if his friends decide to burst in the door. Which, if they’re led by Santi, is a real possibility.

Less than ten minutes. No problem.

You must also feel the sense of urgency because you adjust your hand that is holding your panties to the side. You take your thumb and pointer finger and move them over yourself, parting your lips to open yourself more to him and pulling up slightly, exposing your nub. He flattens his tongue in response and drags it over your sensitive bundle, noting the way your body trembles when he does so.

He knows he doesn’t have the time to edge you as he’d like to, but he can’t help himself when he moves his head lower and twists his tongue into your hole, thrusting it into you. You are bouncing yourself slightly up and down, helping him fuck yourself on his tongue. He feels your wetness pouring over his lips and dripping down through his whiskers.

He feels your hand leave your own body and tangle back in his curls along with your other one, grabbing two fistfuls of hair tightly in your grip. Having had enough of his teasing you’re apparently deciding to take matters into your own hands.

Frankie loves eating pussy but this? This might be his favorite thing in the whole world.

He angles his head perfectly, opens his mouth, and sticks his tongue out stiffly as you begin to grind your pussy against his face. You’re using his nose, his tongue, his chin, even the bristles of his facial hair. You’re using whatever you can to get yourself off as you ride his face. It takes everything in his power not to break out in a giant smile.

He doesn’t hear you, you’re still being the quietest you’ve been since you got in this room, but he feels it. Shit, does he ever feel it. He feels your body tense, then your legs quiver, feels the pulsing in your cunt as you press yourself firm into his still-open mouth. He gently laps up your gushing orgasm as you release the grip on his hair and whimper softly above him.

Knowing you’re short on time, he has you climb off him much sooner than he’d like you to. Your heavy-lidded eyes meet his and then yours go wide. You bend down and grab his hat, plopping it back on his head and attempting to tame his just-fucked-hair back underneath it. You run to the corner of the room and grab a small robe hanging on a hook, skipping back over and roughly wiping his face off with it the way you would a toddler after a meal.

He quickly adjusts himself, tucking his protruding hardness under his belt in an attempt to conceal it as he watches you adjust your askew panties. Still topless, you throw the robe back towards the corner in a panic just as there is a quick knock at the door. Without a signal to enter the door flies open anyways, no less than three of his friends bursting through the doorway drunkenly, shots in hand for Frankie to partake in.

They make Frankie drink the shots before he even leaves the room and then they drag him away from you, hollering obnoxiously. All he can manage is an apologetic look over his shoulder as he hears the final song finally come to an end. Time’s up. Luckily you’re laughing at their antics and don’t seem to be upset. Maybe you were just flirting with him because that’s your job. Maybe you just wanted a good tip.

A tip! Shit.

Being dragged down the hallway Frankie grabs Santi by the arm and asks in his ear how much he should tip you. Santi says he usually tips $200. Frankie is shocked that a 20 minute dance would garner that big of a tip, but then again it’s been a long time since he’s been at a place like this. And to be fair, you - albeit unknowingly - let him fulfill a long-time fantasy of his.

$200 is more than he would have paid you to watch his kid tonight. No wonder you’re not his babysitter anymore. He fishes around in his wallet and takes out all the cash he has, $236. He manages to break off from the group of guys after they do another couple shots and he looks around for you. 

Unable to find you he spots one of the girls you came to the table with and she lets him know you’re on a break but she can get the tip to you. He hands her the folded bills and she thanks him by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. When she pulls back from him she widens her eyes at him and flashes him a knowing smile.

“I’m sure she’s very appreciative… of the tip,” she winks.

Frankie tries not to blush and resists the urge to high-tail it to the bathroom and wash his face off, opting instead to keep the scent of you on him. He returns to the table of his too-drunk-to-notice friends and finishes out the night of revelry.

.

3:03am

Hey

Hi

3:06am

Sorry

3:09am

You’re probably asleep

3:10am

Hi

I’m just getting home actually

3:11am

Oh cool me too

Sorry to bother 

I just wanted to make sure you got your tip

I left it with your friend

3:14am

I did, yes. Thank you so much.

3:14am

Cool 👍

3:16am

Don’t take this the wrong way…

But how drunk were you tonight?

3:18am

Idk

Why?

What did I do?

I’m so sorry

3:19am

No, don’t be sorry!

I’m not trying to be rude.

I just….

Did you mean to tip me that amount?

3:25am

Oh my god

Was it not enough?

I can give you more

I’m really sorry

Do you have Venmo?

3:27am

No! OMG. It was plenty!

Literally the most I’ve ever been tipped is like 40%

You tipped me 118%

3:30am

Oh

3:31am

Yeah so I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get too drunk

And accidentally just give me everything in your wallet

3:35am

Is that what happened?

3:37am

Because I can Venmo some money back to you

It’s really not a problem

3:40am

Sorry no

I just tipped what my friend told me to

3:41am

Well I checked with the other girls….

NONE of your friends tipped that much

And they were all very generous!

3:44am

But none as generous as you

3:45am

He’s such an asshole

I’m sorry

I didn’t know

I feel like an idiot

3:46am

Again, please don’t be sorry

It was VERY generous of you

And I’m very grateful

3:50am

I was in a giving mood tonight I suppose

3:51am

Mr. Morales, is that you being flirty?

3:53am

Oh we’re back to Mr. Morales now?

3:55am

Can you get a babysitter on Wednesday night?

3:55am

I don’t have custody this week so no babysitter needed

Why?

3:56am

We should go out to dinner

3:57am

Oh we should?

3:59am

Yeah we should

Frankie

4:01am

MY treat

4:01am

LOL I should hope so!

4:02am

Pick me up at 7 😉

4:02am

I will

See you Wednesday

[shellxrls]

last request then ill leave u alone for the night 😭 drabble abt jj fucking his girl so good she goes completely nonverbal after her orgasm and hes worried like ?? whats wrong did i do too much ??

-💫

i think he’d truly get so freaked lmfaooo 😭😭. like rubbing your face, lightly tapping with aggression that borders on it being a full on slap it bcuz he doesn’t want to hurt you but he really needs you to respond.

and you’re just all glossy eyed, vision clouded over and senses dulled, his worries muted due to the ringing in your ears from the intensity of the orgasm.

i’d even say he’d go as far as calling fuckin john b or smthin 😭😭. rambling about how he thinks you had a heart attack or some shit while he was fucking you and john b’s just like 😐 “your dick game cannot be that good bro.” even though jj’s hysterical on the other side of the line and literally holding the phone up to your mouth and asking john b “is she even still breathing!?” when you’re panting from exertion — and loudly too 🙄.

[slxtslovebambi]

„Immature."

"You think because you can spread your legs for me 'n look pretty that you’re ready for everythin' else?"

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!reader.

Synopsis: Fighting with your toxic boyfriend Toji is mentally draining.

Warnings: mentions of sex, implied age gap, cuss words, arguing, toxic behavior. (None of this is meant to be romanticized, it’s just fiction.)

WC: 600+

Toji is literally so Mean.

He will use everything he can against you whenever you’re arguing.

The fact that you’re much younger than him, physical touch to make you shut up or he’ll just make you go crazy by purposefully provoking you until you snap to make it seem like you’re being irrational and immature.

"Are you serious? You’re gone for two days without saying anything or answering my texts and now you just expect me to not say anything and welcome you back home with a warm meal? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Your voice is slightly breaking, your fingers are trembling and you can feel your hands getting sweaty because of all the adrenaline your anger is sending through your veins.

He places a hand on your cheek while looking at your face with a smug expression.

"Keep it down will ya'? You know I can’t stand when you raise your voice at me."

He shakes his head in disapproval while tapping your cheek lightly.

"Stop trying to change the subject! This isn’t about me raising my voice and you know it! It’s about you acting like a Jerk!"

You get more overwhelmed and frustrated by every single word you have to say.

At this point you could write a whole list about what’s bothering you and he’d still act like he doesn’t get the problem.

"A jerk huh?" He chuckles.

His unbothered reaction just frustrates you even more.

"Could you just take me serious for one god damn time?!" You snap as you feel your eyes getting watery and your throat hurting from all the yelling.

"Doll… why are ya' so agitated now? You’re overreactin’ with your childish emotions all over the fuckin' place. Calm down alright? I can’t hear it no more."

He groans while rolling his eyes at you.

"Look at how sensitive you are, I can’t say shit without you makin' a fuss over it! Now quit gettin’ all teary on me."

He wipes your tears away while giving you an annoyed sigh.

He knows calling you sensitive or hysterical is gonna trigger you. He knows it’s gonna make you even more upset and he’s shamelessly using it against you. You’re just too pretty when you’re hurt and vulnerable.

"Oh so now I’m childish and sensitive and I’m making a fuss?!!"

You look at him in disbelief, not understanding how that’s what he got from you sharing how you feel.

"That’s right sweetheart."

He towers over you before grabbing your waist to pull you closer.

"Don’t even try it!" You push him back by his chest forcefully.

"I’m so fucking tired of it! I’m mature enough to have sex with you but as soon as I disagree with something you say or do I’m being immature? You’re such a hypocrite!"

Toji chuckles even more now.

"Now you’re catchin' on baby."

The scar on his lip moves as his grin gets even bigger.

"You think because you can spread your legs for me 'n look pretty that you’re ready for everythin' else?"

He seems really amused by the thought of you trying to have an equal relationship with him.

"You’re too god damn sensitive and you’re always complaining as if I don’t pay for your shit! If you hate it so much move back to your mama's house!"

Toji had his fun and everything but now he’s just getting pissed off.

It was never a real argument for him to begin with. It’s just you being dramatic, however that’s a small price to pay for what he gets every single time you snap at him.

Make up sex is the probably his favorite kind of sex, and if it means he has to listen to you little outbursts from time to time to get what he so deeply craves, then it’s completely worth it.

Requests are open. Don’t forget to reblog <3

Might do a part two so y’all are free comment characters you’d like to see and what kind of argument you want them to have! Ly guys 💗💗💗

[princessbrunette]

THABK YOU that someone finally boticed just how jittery and jumpy Rafe was in s1😭 like, in s2 he's just feral, like off the hinges aggressive, teeth bared and all but s1 was like a introduction of *that* Rafe to me, like he was already tweaking and just so...jumpy and maniac

Imagine him while being close to an episode like that in that outside cinema where he's bot only already jumpy and ready to fuck JJ and Pope up but then he sees you all smiley and happy with your Pogue *friends* and he'd be borderline hysterical bc he wants to just...squeeze you and hump you like a dog if that's all he'll get :((

Like I think he'd genuinely get worked up ever more over seeing you spending time with your Pogue friends, with fuckin JJ ://

❀ꨄ︎⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ꨄ︎❀

god him in that stupid yellow tshirt and backwards cap with the crazy in his eyes when he follows you off into the trees because you needed to take a quick call, and he knew this was his chance to get you alone. you finish the call and he’s just standing there smiling all big and you actually jump back when you turn around. he frowns, walking towards you slower and more careful. “wha’s wrong? i scare you?” he frowns like he’s actually concerned, big hands sliding around your waist tugging you against his broad body.

he tilts his head with that stupid smirk like he wants to kiss you and you’re pawing at his chest nervously, looking around him. “rafe, there’s — there’s people. not here—”

“—yes, here… no one’s lookin’…” he’s managing to get his mouth on your jaw atleast, holding your body so close to his that your thigh is pretty much pressed between his legs and you feel him buck against you just a little bit as he holds you to him, arching just a little to hump a jean clad shape on your leg like a dog. you wonder why he’s acting like this, brows furrowed, hands still firmly on his chest as he takes what he can get. he thinks he feels you relax a little, before you gasp, whispering his name.

“rafe!” you whine urgently, successfully pushing him back this time and nodding at the two figures crunching leaves behind the cinema screen. he turns around, eyes all wide and glassy with literal insanity and your eyes adjust the same time as his, spotting pope and jj just finishing up doing their business, pulling up their zippers.

he scoffs, tongue in his cheek with irritation before heading straight towards them, anger at being interrupted, by jj especially taking over his body.

“‘sup pogues.” he nods, instantly walking the boys backwards. jj’s eyes flicked towards you, and then him, adjusting his cap.

“‘sup rafe.” he steps back. you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

❀ꨄ︎⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ꨄ︎❀

[the-kr8tor]

I see that your requests are open👀

Can I get a fix of a modern Hobie taking us to a hello kitty cafe ORRR like my last ask hobie and reader being famous online and maybe they record abt them playing roblox together (horror games, da hood maybe fun games) and hobie gets in yet ANOTHER fight with someone cause they think reader and Hobie are edating

P.S It's 11pm and everyone is Asleep and now I'm scared cause I keep feeling like there's something watching me from the dark (that's edgy)

ANOTHER P.S hope u have a merry Christmas:3

-🧋

I understand, lovely because when u submitted this there's a loud scratching in my ceiling 😭 thank you for requesting! I chose the gaming one bc I couldn't resist a gamer Hobie 🥰 hope you had a very Merry Christmas! 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Gamer! Hobie and reader, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Love, hide!” Hobie yells in his mic, mouse clicking rapidly as he panics to hide from the pixelated monster. He hears your screams bouncing around in his headphones.

“Where?! There's nothing here!” Your character frantically runs around as the monster is hot on your tail.

“You just passed it! Hold on!” Hobie exits his hiding place, intercepting the monster’s attention from you to him. “Hey, E.T. lookin' arse, over here!” the monster has now latched on to him, pulling aggro for you.

“Hobie, noooo!” You see Hobie's character get eaten in one bite. He groans at his death screen briefly before showing him your character watching in the background, emoting a crying face.

“Fuck you!” The monster turns around to chase you again. “Your sacrifice won't be in vain!” running, you play ring around the rosie with the monster, your screams of terror turning into laughter.

Hobie's spectating your POV, laughing loudly at your expense. He flicks his eyes to the second monitor to read the chat, his smiling morphing into annoyance.

“E-dating?! You think we're e-dating?! Chat, what the bloody hell?” Hobie moves so animatedly that his headset almost falls off.

He sees his chat go wild, their comments vary from ‘you've probably never seen her irl, bro’ to ‘They're definitely not! Have you seen them ogling each other through the camera?’

“Where's my fuckin' mod?! Ned ban their arse!” Hobie chuckles through his threat, clearly just joking. He still hears you laughing hysterically in his headphones, making him grin despite the bullying from his chat. Then he hears your character ‘oof’

“I died” you say dejectedly. “Fucker got me, looks like you sacrificed yourself for nothing, Hobie.”

“That's alright I forgive you because there's somethin' else that's more important.” He turns around in his chair, looking over his shoulder to look at the green cloth behind him. “Love, can you tell ‘em we're not e-dating and that we're literally in love”

Hobie opens his green screen curtain to reveal you sitting on your own desk, your back turned away from him. Your spare monitor shows his livestream, you quirk an eyebrow when you see yourself in his camera.

The chat goes completely wild, some spamming emojis, some are just straight up key smashing.

You look over your shoulder with a smile, waving at his camera. Swiveling your chair, you wheel towards Hobie's desk, laying your chin atop his shoulder. He holds your hand subtly under the desk, squeezing thrice.

“Is this enough proof?”

Everyone clipped the entire thing.

[signed-loni]

So can we have sally face chacter (by sally face characters I mean the gang: Ash, Larry, Sal) with a fem! S/O that is kinda like the fem version of rodrick from the diary of a wimpy kid like shes a rough person and in a band and etc also her style being similar to this u dont have to do it lol have a good rest of ur day and drjnk water pls :)

ARRRRRRRGGJHH I LOVE THIS STYLE SM

Anyhooooo YESS!!

Warnings: cusssing, reader is fem!

Sal 🎭

Sal is like fucking crazy for you

LOVES THAT YOUR IN A BAND

(My bfs a drummer AND LEMME TELL YOU, PEOPLE WHO ARE IN BANDS R HOT ASF)

He loves when you come over to his house and just mindlessly play ur drums while he tells you about his day/ olays hus guitar

Since your literally rodrick, your gonna be the oldest out of two sisters

Your little sister, whos in middle school, you LOVE to poke fun at.

Sal saw you making fun of her and was a bit concerned, but realized you were just playing around and was like “phew”

“Sup ugly? Y’gonna go see that loser friend of yours or what?” U say to your little sister “rachel is NOT a loser! Shes just different.” Your sister says back “whatever you say nerd.” You say and bring sal back up to your room

“Were..you being serious?” Sal asks, a bit quiet “huh? Oh,no. I love her, thats just how we show our love. She knows i dint actually mean that” you respond back, 100% honestly “oh! Ok.” Sal replies, a bit relieved

Comes to LITERALLY all of your band performances! Doesnt miss a single one and is your biggest supporter EVER.

probably owns every single piece of merch your band sells, and his room is just LITTERED with things from ur band

Your band mates can b fuckin jerks ngl

they comment on ur bfs mask and ur like “The fuck??? Uhm not to my fucking face i think tf not”

You probably beat then tf up or smth idfk

🤎Larry🍃

“so we fuckin with ur band music playin or nah?”

much like sal. Comes to every one of ur band practices and fuckin jams out to ur shit

Has all of ur guys’ music on a cd or vinyl

acc fuckin obsessed w u

likes to go on liquor store dates w u (kinda like the part in rodrick rules where him and greg go to the liquor store ykwim)

Acts offended when ur mean to him as a joke

”Babe! What the hell! I thought u loved me😞”

“Larry, listen CLOSELY, theres no fuckin way your laying a HAND on my drums. Theres just no way. I know u have cheeto fingers. Dont even think about it”

Laughs hysterically every single time u say smth “mean” to ur sisters.

but thats mostly bc hes normally high out of his mind

speaking of which, GETTING HIGH WHILE U GUYS R PLAYING UR INSTRUMENTS OR SMTH LIKE THAT. HOLY FUCK.

idk what its called, but when ur partner takes a hit and blows it into ur mouth, HOLY SHIT THATS FUCKING HOT

does that w u all the time btw

probably snuck into ur room one time to play ur drums, and right as u walked in u saw him, and literally slapped the FUCK outta him. Its was hilarious

overall loves the crap outta u and is so supportive of ur music career, always telling ppl at school or sm to listen to u guys play and gives them the address to ur guys’ next performance

best bf ever

sry i didnt add ash, lost motivation

[buckychristwrites]

Idk if you take requests outside of the prompt lists you’re doing right now, but I had a concept I feel like you would write AMAZINGLY so I just had to tell you, feel free to ignore if you don’t vibe with it! So, reader and Jamie in a relationship, he’s trying to take things slow and not be as focused on the physical like he was in past relationships. Meanwhile however reader is aware of his reputation, and starts to feel undesirable, like there’s something wrong with them because of how slow things are going, and starts feeling insecure that they aren’t good enough for Jamie to want ‘like that’. Angst and accidental miscommunication abound! But obviously things are explained and there’s a happy ending

This made me think of the idea that @imfalling-inlove sent me that i posted about a few days ago. So i’m gonna kind of combine the ideas a little bit, i hope the both of you don’t mind!

-

The night hadn’t been a particularly pleasant one. Not for you, anyway.

The hotel mirror casted your reflection back at you. You stared, turning and poking at yourself. Could this be smaller? Could that be bigger? With every second that passed, another bullet point was added to the list of things you’d change about yourself if given the chance. And the list was already quite long before you started tonight’s excursion.

“What’re ya doin’?”

You didn’t immediately answer, instead just continuing to push your abdomen inwards, as if the extra squish would just dissipate into your skin and stay there.

Jamie Tartt’s reflection appeared behind yours, his eyebrows knitted together as he watched you.

“Oi,” He said, putting a hand on your shoulder. Instinct made you pull away.

“Do you think I’m ugly?” You asked him. He jerked his head to the side.

“What?”

“Is that why you won’t touch me? Is it because i’m hideous?”

You felt hysterical as the emotions continued to well up in your chest and pour out of your mouth, but you didn’t care. Everything was hurting. Your head. Your chest. Your heart. You felt like you were bleeding. Jamie continued to stare.

“Who said-“

“You literally had your dream girl,” You continued as if he didn’t speak. “You had Keeley’s poster on your wall as a kid. And now you’re settling for stupid, ugly, fat fucking me.”

And it wasn’t just Keeley you thought of. It was all of the beautiful women who had come in and out of Jamie’s very public life over the years. While you claimed his larger than life body count didn’t bother you, it was hard to ignore that there was something about you that made you an outlier comparatively to the rest.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Jamie said defensively. You turned to face him, your back towards the mirror. It was easier to speak to him through the glass, though. Now your eyes welled with more tears.

“There has to be an explanation to why you would force yourself to be with me when you could have anyone, Jamie,” You said flatly. He shook his head.

“I don’t fuckin’ want just anyone.”

“Then how come you can sleep with them but not me?”

“‘Cos you’re fuckin’ different!” He was raising his voice, which made you realize that you had already raised yours.

“Different as in a rest stop until you find another destination to head to?”

“Different as in I wanna fuckin’ marry ya!”

The argumentative attitude fled your body like a criminal on the run. Jamie’s chest was heaving up and down.

“Wh-“

“I see my future in your fuckin’ eyes,” He hissed, taking a step closer. “You’re different ‘cos I wanna watch ya walk down the aisle in a white dress. You’re different ‘cos I wanna have ten kids with ya. Or no kids with ya. But any kids I have, they better fuckin’ be yours. You’re different ‘cos I wanna be in me 80’s, slow dancin’ with ya in the kitchen. And you’re different ‘cos I wanted to take this slow so you didn’t think I was just fuckin’ ‘round!”

He ran his hands through his hair as you watched, dead silent.

“Keeley may have been a girl I dreamt about but you are literally the woman of my dreams. I couldn’t’ve invented ya if I tried.”

Carefully, he took another step closer, putting his hands on your sides and pulling you forward so your forehead was against his cheek.

“As for the rest…” He said quietly, shaking his head against your skin. “I’ll spend the rest of me life provin’ that you are the most beautiful, sexy, incredible woman I’ve ever laid me eyes on if I have to.”

[eleanorfenyx]

I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)

The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.

That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.

Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved

Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved

Di Feisheng my beloved

The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.

Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.

There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.

Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).

I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?

I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!

He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off

OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY

The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.

LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!

LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)

Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!

Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!

[starfxkr]

best friends brother rafe and reader gets caught by sarah 🙈

you weren’t exactly quiet— which is probably why sarah burst into the bathroom to see rafe’s head between your thighs.

“oh my god i’m gonna be sick.” sarah looks fucking green, the shock of seeing her best friend and her fucking brother very clearly hooking up.

“rafe get the fuck off—now” you were panicked and shoved him off in a flash, not even able to pull up your panties as you chased sarah down the stairs. “sarah! please slow the fuck down!”

you manage to catch up with her, brows furrowes amd eyes wide in disgust. even upset sarah looked so adorable you wanted to laugh.

“you— and my brother— what the fuck?! how did this happen?”

“i dunno… i like his personality.” well not exactly but thats the quickest thing you could come up with, the sight of rafe up the driveway in your peripheral makes you even more nervous.

so nervous in fact you burst out laugh: at the absurdity of being outside in no panties; at the sad baby look on sarahs face, at the (for once) clearly uncomfortable tension in rafes frame.

so she starts laughing too, doubled over cackling until there’s tears in her eyes.

“why didn’t you just tell me?” she hiccups, “we’ve been friends literally forever.”

“well you almost puked just then.”

“yea because he was…i dont even wanna say it. you know what he was doing.” she makes a face that sends you into another fit of hysterics.

“okay fair we probably coulda avoided this but i dunno he kinda snuck up on me,” you shrug as rafe finally starts making his way over, looking more relaxed. “i do have a question though. is he always that fuckin whiny?”

“ha! all the time…maybe worse.”

“oh god…” you rub your face in your hands as rafe slings an arm around your shoulder.

“sarah what the fuck did you tell her?”

[lunapwrites]

having a bit of a bad brainspace weekend.

i am intensely uncomfortable and unable to do things for myself that i normally could do and this is my not-so-friendly reminder that despite the sometimes crippling ADHD and the fact that my GI issues suck i am, in fact, mostly usually quite able-bodied. i am used to things i am not physically able to do being more in the realm of "touching my toes" due to my intense lack of flexibility or "lift my partner" due to him being 3x my size. I've historically been pretty strong and in good shape for someone that is allergic to the gym, so i was not anticipating adding things like "putting on socks" and "rescuing my sweet idiot dog from the couch he's forgotten how to get off of" to that list.

i made the mistake of asking my partner what it looked like i was struggling with rn because i'm not good at recognizing when i actually need to ask for help vs when i can just power through. this was a poor decision because this means that i received an itemized list of my recent failures. not phrased in a way to be hurtful, just expressing frustration because these were all things that i had previously handled myself with ease and now a) was suddenly not doing, or doing inconsistently, and b) was not indicating i needed help with. and he's not trying to step in on his own and make me feel micromanaged or smothered, because he knows i want to do for myself as much as possible (and also i'd probably bite his head off) and he's 100% correct. and he had to kind of sit me down and be like "you are pushing yourself too hard please stop" and i wanted to shake him and scream that i'm not, that i don't feel like i'm doing enough because i am just a pile of disappointments right now. massive laundry lists of things i need to do and can't because literally if i try it physically hurts me.

anyway i really want to write but the second i sit down i either get distracted with something else or fall asleep or sit there vibrating over the things i should be doing but can't so. there's that. [gazes longingly at several half-written WIP chapters wasting away in the corner] i know where they're all going. i just don't have the gas to get us there. and i hate that. especially because i have this intense fear of not having time for writing at all once Bean is here.

idk. everything sucks rn and i hate it here and i don't wish this on anyone. next person who tells me this is a wonderful miracle and that i should feel so blessed is getting a shoe thrown at them. "best thing you've ever done" fuck you. i know what i did and why, but i also knew it was going to suck ass at least 90% of the time. it was, i thought, an informed decision. i either underestimated the level of disability i would be experiencing or overestimated my ability to cope with it. like it's fine it's temporary i will get through it but jesus fucking christ this is rotten work. and not in a "not if it's you" or an "especially if it's you" sort of way, but more of a "despite" situation. i adore this kid so much already but i also want to be able to stand up for more than 5 consecutive minutes without feeling like i might die. i want to be able to have a conversation without immediately being out of breath. and even all of that i feel terrible venting about because in terms of symptoms i am getting off SO FUCKING EASY. it could have been way worse. and i'm bitching about it this hard. bitching about what???

anyway. so begins the final countdown. with me crying hysterically over a bag of fuckin pastries i left on the counter and feeling lower than i think i've felt since '09, which ain't a great feeling.

[deep breath.] everything will be fine. it just sucks right now. and also i really hate writing thank you cards.

[cod-dump]

Task Force 141 plays Overcooked 2 in their free time. It usually ends with Soap, surprisingly, being the one who loses his mind and his temper. He starts ranting angrily and his accent gets so thick that it’s hard to discern what he’s saying that it sends the rest of the task force into hysterics.

Hence the reason why they keep playing Overcooked 2.

Soap is always so damn confident and cocky while playing any games. It pisses everyone off. But they finally found the one game that makes Soap mad. Finally.

Soap grew up in a restaurant setting. His aunt owned a decent pub and worked there during his teens. He knew what it was like. One of the first things he says when Ghost ultimately tries to pick the mouse chef was, “KEEP THAT FUCKIN’ RODENT OUT OF MY KITCHEN!”

Soap gets so mad at this game because Ghost, every time he sees the bread zombies, goes “Look the Unbread!”

Gaz thinks it’s hilarious while Soap is fucking pissed already. Gaz, every time, picks the bearded chef and says “It’s Price!”

“Doesn’t matter who he is, needs a fuckin’ hair net.”

Soap just gets unreasonably angry with cooking games. Just so fucking angry. For the longest time cooking was his special interest, owning a restaurant like his aunt was something he dreamt about for years. Something about the little inaccuracies in a game just pisses him off. Well, this game pisses him off.

Other cooking games are alright because they don’t make him this mad. It’s like once Soap discovered how absolutely furious he gets over this game every little thing pisses him off about it.

It doesn’t help that Ghost, every fucking time, puts the ingredients ANYWHERE BUT THE PLATE.

“GHOST THE PLATE IS RIGHT FUCKING THERE!”

Ghost immediately puts the ingredients into the trash and Soap screamed, “YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

Soap gets stuck on cutting the ingredients and every time without fail, Gaz and Ghost will start chanting, “Faster, Soap! Faster, Soap!”

With the timer almost up and those two continuously talking, Soap just screams. Literally his rage turns his face red and he threatens to throw the controller. Gaz and Ghost aren’t actually bad at the game. They just love fucking with Soap and making him mad. It’s payback.

Price is the worst one to play with. Because he pretends to not know what he’s doing. Every. Fucking. Time. He just forgets the controls, what button does what. Is too slow. Soap hates playing with him. Absolutely loathes Price cluelessly pressing the wrong buttons. Soap is going to pop a blood vessel.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

hello!

i was wondering if you could write something for badger x GN!reader where the reader is a squirter?

i gotchuuu mwah mwah. i wrote gender neutral reader but i think badger would call everyone bro/dude/man etc. so i hope thats ok anatomical terms: pussy

"Oh, God, so good. So good." Badger groaned. "Shit, dude, how are you so wet?! It's fuckin' insane!"

That made you snort with laughter and involuntarily clench around his cock. He hissed and arched his back up into you. From his perspective, the view was amazing. You had your hands splayed on his chest, using it as leverage to bounce up and down on him. He had both hands on your hips, pulling you down so he could reach even deeper. You swiveled your hips back and forth, letting him feel every inch of you. You were just too fucking good.

He knew he couldn't hold on much longer, but he didn't want to give in. Not without taking care of you first. He could not be the one to tap out. "F-Fuck, man... hold on just a sec... lemme..." He took one of his hands off your hips and brought them in between your legs, getting you off with his fingers as you rode him.

That did the trick. You gasped, and your mechanical rhythm started to slip. You began to collapse in on yourself, twitching and convulsing under his touch, leaking out even more. You cried out, "Fuck, Badger, just like that! Fuck! God, I can't! I-Oh! Fuck! Badger!"

You felt the tidal wave crash. Literally. What came out of you sure fucking felt like a wave crashing. Your orgasm splashed onto Badger's chest and seeped into the bedsheets below. He froze, and he hadn't moved at all by the time you came down from your peak. When you realized he wasn't saying or doing anything, you gasped and clammed up too, worried that you just traumatized him somehow. You stared at each other in silence for a second, eyes bugging out of your heads, and then...

...he burst out laughing.

"Holy shit! No fucking way!" Badger laughed hysterically, his cock throbbing inside you, panting to try to catch his breath, "Oh, god, that was... shit, man! Splash zone, am I right? How the fuck do you even do that?!"

You started laughing too, and you were about to answer him, but he cut you off with a hard thrust upwards.

"C'mon, yo, do it again!"

[st0rmyskies]

Renault Avantime

Acura Legend

Nissan Skyline

Renault Wind

Ford Ranger Wildtrack

Toyota FourRunner

Renault Twizy

Eagle Malon TSi

Rolls Royce Silver Shadow

Mitsubishi L200 Warriors

Ducati Diavel Dark

Range Roolie

This anon knows that I am secretly a Car Guy™.

Renault Avantime

Look at this thing. Look at this European-ass Ford Flex wannabe bullshit. It gets some points for being a coupe, somehow - Time would rather not drive around with a back door that someone could pop into at will - but even a sick set of tints isn't going to hide his embarrassment at this beaky profile. There's a nose joke in there somewhere. 3/10.

Acura Legend

Impeccable. Looks like someone's first car so that they can haul ass back and forth to college several times a year. Ravio and Legend rip out the back seats to make room for as much product as this shitty 2.5L can manage. The back is also positively PLASTERED in the most amazing sarcastic bumper stickers you can imagine (Bestie Please Let Me Merge, I Fucked Bigfoot, etc.). 10/10

Nissan Skyline

Some part of me hurts to think that Sky would be a Nissan driver, but that's my own personal bias. Does look like something he would take out for weekend track days or the odd drag strip competition and wipe the floor with others. When Groose pulls up he parks entirely too close and gets Sky's rare scowl for even joking about having scratched the paint. 8/10

Renault Wind

Look at this fuckin thing. Wind hates it. Daddy bought it for him as a "Sorry I missed your 16th birthday!" gift. The only saving grace is that it's not the powder blue version; Wind would have turned those keys right over to Aryll SO FAST. It's hardly big enough for him to bring a surfboard to the beach in. The convertible is a nice touch for sunset beach drives though. 5/10.

Ford Ranger Wildtrak

Can you imagine??? Can you imagine?????? Wild wakes up one morning after a night of hard partying to suddenly remember, "I have a car." He digs through his old belongings to produce a nondescript keychain - which he promptly switches out for a big sparkly white puffball - and wanders off into the world to find where he parked THIS truck of Champion's. The ENERGY of seeing tiny Wild with his long hair blowing out the side window as he rolls up in THIS THING is hysterical to me. He will literally never be able to double-park it and just pull it up over the sidewalk to leave it in Time's yard. 11/10.

Toyota FourRunner

If one person - if ONE PERSON - makes a short joke Four is gonna flip the fuck out. He'll need the version with side rails so he can actually get into the damn thing, probably, and the seat adjuster is aftermarket so that he can bring the driver's seat up high enough to see over the steering wheel. Bonus points, though, that he can drive right over all the haters. However, I would argue that this isn't the best city car for someone like Four. Yes it can haul lots of junk in the back for his work needs, but a pickup truck - and something older that he can service himself - would suit him a bit better. 7/10

Renault Twizy

Sure, let's put the anxious kid on the highway between two 18-wheelers in this little Fisher Price death trap. His shoulders wouldn't fit inside this thing, let alone his ass. 0/10

Eagle Malon TSi

Well if this isn't a divorcee car then I don't know what is. Does get some points since it looks like it would run badly forever, which is the solid basis of any good farmer's errand car. I do like to think, though, that Malon would have a bit more self respect than this. 1/10.

Rolls Royce Silver Shadow

I had to include the photo with the text because that's so something Shadow would make himself. Four loudly and vehemently disagrees; he's spent more time on his back beneath that engine bay fixing electrical issues nearly as quickly as Shadow can cause them. Perhaps the aftermarket tablet screen he had installed in the center console at some dubious backyard mechanic was a bad idea. Also I bet that engine is so fucking loud and puts out NO power. 7/10

Mitsubishi L200 Warriors

What the hell and fuck is this? What are all the antennae for, so he can be tuned in to the latest Sephora sale?? And the extra lighting, is that for his Instagram photoshoots??? Ew, do you think Wars is an Instagram influencer???? -0.5/10

Ducati Diavel Dark

Oh, this is canon. 15/10

Range Roolie

I just had a visceral reaction picturing our own Doctor Hyrule, MD, rolling around town in this thing hopelessly lost. He somehow keeps missing all the turns on his GPS. The OnStar dispatcher eventually gets to know him by name. They just talk while he's on his way to work in the morning. 10/10

[mollyolikeme]

Thoughts as I read TSC: A Stream of Conciousness

Spoileys ahead!

Oh god jean.

As a reader being back to having people call andrew a pet is….. somehow both infuriating and also fucking hysterical. Because like oh jean, oh babe, you dont understand anything my dear.

LOL Neil is so cool from jean pov

And jean is so baby 😬

Dramatic french boy i caaaant 😂

Sooooo interesting. At this point in Kevin’s journey (in tkm) he is starting to grow that backbone but like, clearly he already feels more confident and in control when hes around jean. Cause like, he’s always been above jean in the hierarchy to begin with. Kevin feels tougher in jean pov. Less like a little puss.

‘Not surprised the foxes need a shrink.’ AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA JEAN. JEAN. GUY BUDDY HOMIE DARLING. You are off of this plane of existence and it is Sending me!

Delusional boy.

No. Not sexual assault and worse. fuck no.

Kevy Kevy Kevy. why even tell Jer it was hazing. just say you cant say or somethin.

'If you tell him to submit, he will.

Literally the most awkward way you could have worded it,' JEREMY IS SO REAL FOR THIS.

okay Trojans SLAY

Jeremy is rich! Should I have known this????? LOL this is so not the poors we're used to.

oh so these are allllll rich bitches

keep on calling them unhealthy jeanyboy and then once you're done with that look in a mirror

to be so fucked up that you think this behaviour is normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

a cool evening breeze

NEIL. LOL. I know this is a wee retcon but also i totally buy it because it is so neil to not even MENTION him driving jean to stay at the dorms while they go to play the ravens. motherfucker does not give one shit about that and so he doesn't even mention it

.the madness.

ANDREWS CANDY! you will regret that jean!

yes Jean, lol at riko's arm, my guy

good one Jeremy.... good lord man you just fuckin spoiled the news ya cute dumb dumb

damn. my whole heart for the foxes. the beginning of this book is so nostalgic for me in jean pov. those guys really were so strong and special and i love them.

renee so wise

awwwww everyones got it bad for kevin (sorry pretty boy, not me!)

legendary wymack!!!! he aint got the patience for this schtik again jean, buy some fucking clothes!

oh. oh i see you Nora. they're gonna be 'buddies' uh huh.

oh no.... not no swearing jeremy. i love a swear. and heckin is so much worse than forkin...