#hey y’all I’m back to complain some more cuz I’m a little bitch :)

[doctor-wombat]

.

[ushiwakaout]

YOUR SERIES FOR THE THINGS YOU THINK HAIKYU BOYS WOULD SAY IS SO GOOD!! Do you write for Tsukishima? Cuz if yes I would really like to know what you think he would say...

thank you, thank you 🥺💖

*sigh* highkey wanting to avoid tsukishima stuff bc i don’t wanna fall deeper into a simp hole

but i guess i’ll do it 🙄 thank fucking god you asked for this bc honestly i was going a little crazy bc i fucking love him so much god fucking damnit

for my sake, y’all are married and you’re a photographer

“mmm, stop poking me.” (7:00 am)

“Hey, i said stop touching.”

“what time is it?”

“No i don’t have practice today... i have school.”

“Not until tonight, so let me sleep.”

“Come back here, i don’t need breakfast right now.”

“Hey i might be slim but i will throw you back in bed if you don’t come back.”

“Wake me up again in like an hour.”

“Mmm, i said wake me up not smother me in kisses.” (8:20 am)

“What’s for breakfast.”

“I’m in the mood for some coffee and a shortcake.”

“What do you mean that’s not breakfast.”

“You may be my spouse but you cannot deny me shortcake.”

“If you forbid shortcake then a want divorce.”

“If you made me pick, i would want a divorce, because it’s like making you pick between me or [your favorite dessert] it’s just evil.”

“I’m not gonna kiss you unless we go get shortcake....”

*motherfucker has such a fucking mood when he wakes up. ESPECIALLY WHEN HE DOESNT GET WHAT HE WANTS. he’s baby but he’s also a bitch*

“have you seen my glasses? i cant see.”

“if you don’t give them to me i’m gonna make you read the menu outloud to me like a crazy person”

“ready for go? i’m starting to get hungry.” (9:00 am)

“are you not going to hold my hand?”

“fine if you get hit by a bike or a car, it’s not my problem.”

“hey actually it will be my problem because i married you, now hold my hand or else i’ll the one pushing you.”

“i’m not an asshole.”

“i’m ordering two cakes, i’m not giving you any of you don’t order for yourself.”

*you don’t order for yourself and just kinda fiddle w his jacket*

“Can i get three strawberry shortcakes and two black coffees, one iced please.”

“Nope you’re not getting the third one.”

*proceeds to eat the two and fiddles with the third*

“Have it, i’d be a waste if you didn’t eat it.”

*if you don’t eat it he will get both physically and mentally upset*

*very much loves seeing you munch down on his favorite dessert*

“Can we go now? I need to study for a test before class.” (10:30 am)

“you’re gonna get hit by a bike, get closer.”

“I wanna get our rings cleaned, their looking a little dirty.”

“So what if it’s only been a year, you know i don’t take it off unless it’s for a match, then i wear the flimsy black one.”

*the ring he gave you was his grandmothers so he’s always fiddling with it when he holds your hand*

“I’m sitting next to you while you edit your pictures, so you can’t complain.” (11:00 am)

*very distracted when he studies because he keeps glancing at you with your tongue out a little while you edit*

*will pinch your tongue*

“It belongs in your mouth.”

*WILL BLUSH OF YOU RESPOND, “so does yours” he will malfunction and flick you’re forehead*

“can you make me a snack?”

“dino crackers will do.”

“hey, don’t make fun of me, you always eat these too. now pass me my crackers.”

“Are you gonna stay alone like a weirdo or are you gonna walk to me the station” (1:00 pm)

“Hurry up and give me a kiss before it’s your fault i miss the train.”

“If you don’t let me go i’m just gonna kiss you again.”

“Idiot let go, i’m gonna be late because of you.”

“Give me another one, you gotta reach for it tho.”

*will laugh in your face before bending down to kissing the tip of your nose*

“Don’t get yourself kidnapped on the way home.”

“What are you doing here? You brought me lunch?” (3:00 pm)

*friends starts asking him who you are*

“My spouse, now stop staring.”

*proceeds to grab your left hand with his to low key show of your rings*

“Let’s go, i’m hungry.”

“Thank you for the food... it was good, could have had less...”

*can’t figure out what to say because it was actually really good but he won’t tell you*

“Could have had less love, that’s what.”

“Stop giggling at me.”

“Hey give me back my-”

*you always take his glasses off before you kiss him, don’t know how he hasn’t caught on yet*

“That was... okay.” (4:00 pm)

“You brought me a shortcake?”

“Wow you do love me.”

“I knew a married you for a reason.”

“You want some?”

“Say ah, no i’m gonna feed you now shut up.”

“Come with me to class, they don’t mind if you’re quiet.”

*will fiddle with your hands when you sit next to him*

*holds your thigh under the desk*

“Stop taking pictures of me.”

“I want coffee again, do you wanna walk to the café?” (6:00 pm)

“I’m hungry again... What? I’m a big boy, leave me alone.”

“Hey if you can reach my hand i’ll buy you a cat.”

*puts his 6’6 wingspans arm up in the air, mind you his hand would probably be up to 6’10*

*Takes pictures of you at the cat café so he can see which one is your favorite for future reference*

“No you couldn’t reach, i’m not getting you a cat”

*fucking liar has been planing on getting u a cat for a good while*

“Just go order the stuff and we’ll head home.” (7:00 pm)

“Sit on the couch with me, we’ll watch a movie.”

*puts on the good dinosaur*

“What? Shut up, it’s a good movie”

“What, no- I’m not crying- you are.”

*flicks your nose*

“See you’re crying too”

“I’m not a bully, you’re a bully.”

“Shut up or i’ll kiss you.”

*will kiss you anyway*

*it doesn’t seem like it but he isn’t a forceful kisser, very soft, long and hot kisses are his go to.*

“I’m gonna shower again, school stressed me out.”

“Take a bath with me” (9:30 pm)

*in the bath his knees are usually always out so he can just hold you while you sit in front of him*

*becomes very soft at night especially when it’s just alone time with you*

*starts kissing your hair, will lightly tease you by massaging your neck and then slowly wrapping his fingers around your neck so he can push your chin up to look at him and he kisses you*

“i know i should say it more but i love you and i know you love me too, and i would trade that for an endless supply of shortcake.”

“See i’m not always a jerk.”

*in bed, he’s the small spoon bc he wants to listen to your heartbeat*

*needs skin to skin contact so his hands are always under your shirt (his shirt) roaming around your back*

“Stop squirming.”

*if you can’t sleep, this man will fuck you to sleep. doesn’t matter what fucking time it is, he gets annoyed and ask why you didn’t tell him sooner so he can fuck you so good*

“Go to sleep or i’ll sleep in the spare”

*lies he hates sleeping alone*

*also... records your reacton while he’s fucking you bc you’re never in front of the camera so he wants you to know how you feel*

*kisses your forehead and then falls asleep to the sound of your breathing*

[eerythingisshaka]

Check Up 2

[Doctor!Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader]

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Teledoc

You let a whole week pass.  Thinking about your ‘prescription’ is all you can do with your free time.  You kept that sheet of paper in your purse and took it out during your lunch break, at happy hour, and every night you sat on the couch alone at night.  And when you went to bed, you gave up on underwear because apparently wet dreams affect women too and you could not get him out of them.

You couldn’t talk to your friends about what happened.  As far as they knew, you chickened out before the appointment.  You really wish you did tell them though because now this prescription is burning a hole in your hand and you can’t figure out what to do with it.  

One night, you decide hanging with your girls is a good distraction and call them up to come over for a get together.  Sipping and snacking with a movie that none of you pay attention to was a great distraction.

“But chile, let me tell y’all about the last time I went to the doctor,”  your high school friend exclaims, setting down her glass.

Your college friend coughs into her chest.  “I told you that bump on your puss was nothing but an ingrown...but if I was wrong, I also told you to stop messing with the dude you met selling phones outside the grocery.”

She waves her off.  “I’ll never have to pay a phone bill again though.  However, you were right about the ingrown but I mean the pussy clinic.”

You perk up, leaning with intrigue.  “Yeah, how did that go?”

“Well, I made my appointment and everything, even requested him specifically to see me.  So after I got my wax and went over there, I got seen and put in a room for examination.  He comes in and BITCH!”

You feel your heart lurch in your throat.  Of course he sees other women with this.  But one of your friends?  Is there anything more disgusting?

She continues, “...so I’m sitting there like a deer in headlights looking at this brown, tall, muscular, educated with an attitude ass that I could never let slip from my grip if he needed it.”

Your college friend hoots and hollers.  “Baby GIRL!  So how did he do?  Did y’all fuck?  Oh my God that’s one of my favorite porn genres:  Doctors and Bosses fucking you all over the office!”  

High school friend shrugs, taking her glass up woefully.  “He is unfortunately long winded and VERY clinical in his explanations of the damn vagina.  I never thought I could be so bored of it, I almost wanted to sit on his face just to shut him the fuck up, which I did offer.”

“To sit on his face?!”  you exclaim loudly, checking yourself internally for your outburst but she doesn’t notice.

“I offered for him to see it.  I thought a gynecological exam came with it, which it does but he steps out and some white woman comes in and does the same bullshit I always get at my regular doctor.”

“Damn, so the streets were telling lies?”  College friend whispers, looking incredulous into the distance as her hopes crumbled in her mind.

“Unfortunately, I think so.  So (y/n) don’t even worry about missing that appointment, it’s literally a lecture with a pap smear at the end, which is worse than any lecture I sat through in college.  At least my TA was down for a make out every exam time.”

You chuckle absentmindedly, but not because of her academic indiscretions.  You had to know why he gave you the treatment differently.  And you have left him on a limb for over a week now when there is no greater sign than this that he may have clearly expressed interest.  You couldn’t be left stuck on stupid.

“Hey y’all, I’ll be right back.  My mama wants me to call her about some movie actors she wants me to look up.  She never gon learn Google.”

Your friends go right back to chatting with each other as you walk back to your room and shut the door.  It’s 6:30, would he even be available to talk?  You have no idea if this is a personal number or his work number, but if you had to leave a message, that would be better than nothing.  You are a patient, after all.

You sneak back to your bedroom, closing the door and laying out the prescription paper on your desk to make the call.  Your heartbeat was pounding strong in your chest as you became excited.  The back and forth pull of hoping he wouldn’t pick up while hoping to he would makes you feel foolishly juvenile, but your muted shriek as the phone rang confirmed how exhilarating this all is for you.

It rings once, twice, three times, then four.  You start to wonder if you should hang up or wait to leave a voicemail.  What would you even say?   How could he respond to-”

“Good evening, Dr. Erik Stevens speaking.”

Your heart couldn’t take the pressure, leaving your body it seems as you freeze in shock.

“Hello?  Is this (Y/N)?”

You plop back on the bed, beating a pillow beside you to work out you sudden burst of energy.  How the hell did he know it was you?

“Uh, yes.  It’s me, thanks for calling,” you reply professionally.

“...you called me,” he says with a warm laugh on his end.

You smack your forehead, “Oh yeah!  I did, you’re correct.  I meant to say thanks for answering.”

“What’s up?”  he asks coolly.

You puff out your cheeks, finding the words as smoothly as possible.  “Um, I had wanted you to fill me, erm, fill YOU in on my progress but really there isn’t much to go on.”

“Really?”  he says, sounding genuinely curious.  “What’s been happening?”

You shrug as if he can see it.  “I mean, who knows but I know I have been busy so I can’t dedicate a ton of time but also, when I have tried...you know…”

“Masturbation?”

You felt your pussy jump 3 feet that time.  The word sounds so 1970s PSA after school special to you but when he says it, it’s like your favorite thing on the menu being a happy hour item when you didn’t expect it.

“Heh, yes.  So when I tried like you did, I couldn’t feel the things I did in your office,”  you feel so meek and shy talking about this.  He is a doctor, it’s his job and he has seen it all but you shrink within yourself discussing this.

He gives a couple uh huhs and pauses before asking, “How did I make you feel during your visit?”

Your body tenses up again as you stammer some, getting worked up.

“Now be easy, that is the start of the issues right there.  Calm down and relax.  Take some deep breaths.”

His voice is like coffee: rich, energizing, needed to get from one activity to the next.  You do so clutching a pillow tightly in front of you.  “Ok.  when I was there honestly I was nervous.  I wasn’t sure what to expect but friends said I should see you just cuz you’re so fine.”

“Hm, I guess that’s a recommendation I won’t complain about.”

You both laugh together.

“It’s crazy but I wanted to see what the fuss was.  I should’ve known better, why would I go do this after so many women before me,”  you make sure to add that to get a gauge of his status of wooing anyone else like you.

“I don’t take on every patient that comes in, so you know,”  Erik says assuredly.

“I know…” you say trailing off with slight disappointment.

“Also...I gave you extra...care because it seemed to work best for you.  I have not done that with any other patients because they seem honestly more into the information I provide or ask for a female doctor or are very enthusiastic about examining themselves.”

You tried to find the right words to say just so that it doesn’t come off as too thirsty but real.  He wanted to know that he took care of you after all.  

“Well, I appreciate you being in tune with your patients like that.  I didn’t necessarily expect what happened but it felt good all the same.  I mean I really had some issues with seeing the good of my…”

“Vagina, though you probably mean vulva,” he says matter-of-factly.

You felt embarrassed again.  How you, a woman, couldn’t say it but from him it’s like reading a feminist poem.  “Vagina/vulva, exactly.  I always hear about so many standards guys have and that influences women to pass on even more standards on what it should look like, smell like, feel like, but none of it matches me to a T.  So you informed me and that made me not feel weird about opening myself up to you after knowing you for 5 minutes.  Plus, it’s your job of course, so I know I ‘m not the first.”

“You weren’t just a part of the job though.”

“Come again?  What?”  you ask, sitting up straight.

“I can’t lie when you were here, I was highly attracted to you.  You engaged me in conversation, which showed me how smart you are.  And you’re...beautiful, in every possible way.”

You practically eat your pillow at the revelation.  “I...that is...amazing you would say that.”

Erik chuckles.  “I mean that too.  And I apologize in advance if it’s forward but I hoped you would call when I gave you the prescription, I almost didn’t think it would happen.”

You fan yourself excitedly, “Can’t seem too eager.  But I could use a refresher on what I was taught.”

“Exactly what this hotline is for!  So let me think here.  You’re in a comfortable space, right?  Alone.”

This reminds you that your friends are in the other room.  “Sure, yeah.”

Erik’s voice drops a little lower as he discusses the topic at hand.  “Ok.  The best way I find that works for you is if I were to spread your legs wide.  It gives me a lot of space to work with.”

You feel yourself warm up at the image.  “Sure, that definitely works.”

“Yeah, cuz I can have you completely open in front of me, so there’s nothing and nowhere to hide.  Your body is served up right and ready for me to...demonstrate.  By now, I could tell already that you’re aroused.  Do you want to do this, while you’re on the phone with me?”

You run lightly over to your bedroom door to lock it, kicking off your shorts and underwear to fly back onto the bed.  “Ok, sure.  And you really could tell already?”

“Uh huh.  Cuz you can’t look straight at me at first and you holding on to the sides of the table to brace yourself.  But I promise I won’t do anything that would hurt, ok?  Then I take my hands and run them along your inner thighs.”

“Oh wow,” you say already breathless, as your fingers feel the softness of your inner thigh, tightening your stomach up from the sensation.

“Does that kinda tickle you?”  he asks gently.

You giggle.  “Yeah it does,”  you say, running one hand down your inner thigh back and forth light as a feather.

“That’s good.  It helps with anticipation, excitement.  Your laugh is cute too, and that makes me want to hear you do other things too, so I kiss the skin on your thigh cuz it’s soft and-”

You gask, jerking your legs together again and smile with all teeth, trying to hold in the goofy laugh that almost spurted from your mouth.  

Erik laughs.  “...and I make you gasp and laugh just like that.  Like I did something so innocent and childish when I’m only getting ready to bring the freak outta you with just my tongue.”

You exhale, feeling yourself become anxious as your body gets antsy.  You wish with all your heart he was in the room.

“Now I can see for real you wanting me.  That pussy starts to talk back to me a little and it makes me curious.  You remember how my fingers felt pulling your lips apart for the first time?”

“God, yes,” you moan, reliving the very moment.  You feel your lips, vulnerably tender to your touch, you take your fingers down between them and shudder, looking down as you part them, you catch a glimpse yourself in the full length mirror on your closet door.  

“And when I do that, it tells me everything.  I can tell your body is getting your shit ready for me, making your skin more sensitive for my touch, those walls getting warm and wet to make you want more and more, and I want to taste it.  The sweet drip that pools from within you, I gotta have it.  But only a taste.”

“You can taste it all,”  you whisper, reaching for your clit.

Erik laughs.  “Ok, thank you.  But don’t you dare touch that fucking clit yet.”

You sit up, putting your knees together feeling frustrated.  “What?  Why?”

“So before I get my taste, I have to taste with my eyes right?  Now I got to taste it with my touch.  So, let me place my hand on top of you, running my fingers through some curls of yours til I get to your lips, dragging my thumb up and down so you good and coated with all that drip.  Go ahead and do that for me.”

“Wow, yeah,” you hiss, turning over on your stomach, spreading your knees wide with a high arch, imagining him seeing you fully vested.

Erik sounds very close to the phone as he says, “I really really like the way your lips look under my fingers, it’s like they dance with my rhythm and it’s hard to stop.  But I had to know what your pussy was talking to me about from earlier, so I put my finger inside you, slowly, pushing in.  That’s when I feel you tighten up a little.”

You slide two fingers in and out of yourself as you bite the pillow.  “More.”

“More?  That’s what I thought too, since you tighten up for one finger, I easily put another in, feeling your walls put their work out on me.”

You dig your forehead into the mattress, not able to wait any longer, you move your soaked finger up to your clit, shuddering against your touch.

“I know, especially, when I work your clit with my fingers in you at the same time.  It’s like you forget to breathe, going quiet then gasping sharper, faster..”

You feel your arousal at its peak, breathing into your chest as your back curls up, pushing your hand deep into your sheets.  You sit into your hand further, not wanting to let go of your climax too soon.

“Ohh, shit, I think you found your nut, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes!  Fuucck Erik,”  you repeat over and over with the rhythm of your hips as your orgasm grows, messing up your sheets and giving not a fuck about it.

“I did, but you know what I need now?  I got my eyeful, and my touch, but now I really really need to taste you,”  Erik says with a growl.

“Taste it,” you plead.

“I take my fingers out of you and they are soaked with you cuz you wanna give me your all.  I want you to look at me as I lick my hand clean of you.”

“I see it.  Taste some more.”

“Your hips are moving at me, getting closer like you need more.”

“I do!”  You say louder feeling a concentrated force work from your center toward the outer edges of our body.

“I love to see you need it.  You ain’t playing with me laughing and smiling, you’re begging and angst ridden.  Now I have to make you feel me, it’s what I have to do.  Just when my tongue touches down on your lips, your legs jerk around me, but I know that’s only a reflex so I dig my tongue into your deeper, whipping it up to your clit before wrapping my lips around it.  

“Shit!  Fuck!” you whisper feeling your clit get over stimulated, aftershocks leaving you jerky..

“Just like that, baby girl.  You hooked right into me.  Feeling your hands dig into me skin while you cum had me solid.  It took everything for me to not turn you over and show you the real shit.  Now I want you to come.”

You push yourself up slowly, your head feeling hazy.  You hadn’t came that hard since the last time, and you just had to get the full experience.

You roll over, feeling lifted.  “I have.”

“Nah, I need you to meet me.”  Erik demands. You spring up from your bed.  “Where?  When?  Like, huh?”

“Just come to my office.  We closed 30 minutes ago.  I’ll wait for you.”

You run to your shower to get a quick fresh up before putting on something cute but functional.  You figure something that will allow him to get all of you just like he said he wanted over the phone and no one is more naked than going to the bathroom in a romper,s o you chose this olive green, with skinny faux belt in the front and a love neckline.  Some platform sandals that match your skin tone and some curl refresh in your hair, and you’re good to go.  

As you walk out of your bedroom, seeing your friends there almost scare you.

“Uh, girl where are you going?  Is your mom alright?”  Your college friend asks while looking you up and down in your new outfit.

You put on your best acting performance.  “She is, but she lost the remote again and hit a button so I need to reprogram something.  I’ll be back, stay long as y’all want to.”

“AHEM!  You look rather nice for a pop over to your mama’s.  Is there something else going on?”  High school friend asks with a judgmental gaze.

You feign frustration, “Ugh, I know, it’s such a  hassle, but daughter’s gotta do what they gotta do.  I’ll be back in like...a while.”  You exit your apartment in a rush, dodging all follow up questions aimed at your back.

Masterlist

[deniigi]

Hey idk how many asks ur getting but I hope ur not being bombarded or anything. If u could, would u write a scene where jack loses little!matt cuz oops Matt just ran off during errands. He runs into various NYC heroes/vigilantes and in the end Matt has them all trailing him as they try to find jack together. Meanwhile jack panics and anxiety.

This got long and definitely wasn’t quite what you were thinking of, but I think it’s still pretty okay.

I’m putting the 2nd half under the cut since it’s so long (sorry mobile folks)

—

There was a huge fanfare in the streets; some guy with money was apparently strolling through the Kitchen and folks had come out to stare back at him when he started eyeing up their buildings, as was their way. Santiago’s was helping this by leaving a couple of folding tables outside the restaurant doors with ‘Make Peace Not Weapons’ fliers on it next to a couple of flats of eggs.

What was to be done with said eggs was not stated. People around here just knew.

None of that had ever been Jack’s bag, honestly. He was busy. Politics had always been background noise to his daily scrounging and scraping and really, this crowd was going to be the death of him.

He caught Rudy and the others crowded around the doorway of the gym and scream-asked over the noise of the crowd gathering around the edges of the streets if they’d seen Matt.

No, they hadn’t. He wasn’t out playing with Rudy’s kids; they were at their grandmother’s.

Rudy told him to try the church’s playground. A lot of the local kids had climbed up on the fence over there to watch the protest.

Aigh.

Matty knew better than to go that far without asking, but Jack went anyways.

Normally, he’d be panicking, but these were the streets that Matt grew up in; that he himself had grown up in. Th folks lining the pavement here knew him and his kid. They’d keep an eye out and make sure Matt didn’t get kidnapped or anything like that.

He got to the church and saw that Grace was standing outside, shaking her head at all the kids lining the top of the fence. He made wide gestures to catch her attention. She met him at the front of the church with a frown.

“No, he’s not here,” she said. “I saw him go past, though, with the McKenzies’ girl. They’re alright. They went and found a football, the two of them.”

Ahhhhh.

That was 100% Mrs. Green’s doing. She’d had a yard sale for her kids’ shit the other day. Jack had seen a couple of basketballs and footballs in among the stuff. She must not have gotten rid of all of it.

Grace waved him in the direction of the green lot the next street up. It was where most of the neighborhood children spent their time—in the daytime, playing and in the nighttime, for the older ones, experimenting.

Jack struggled through the crowd that way but got caught up in a mass of jeering and jostling when Mr. Moneybags, Whoever finally got out of his car.

Are you serious, y’all?

He called over folks to move, that he was after his fuckin’ kid, and they tried as best as they could to let him back.

Finally, blessedly, he stumbled back out on to the pavement and blew out a breath. Then headed off towards the park.

Sure enough, Matt was there, holding a football that was way too big for him with Perry, the MacKenzies’ girl. They’d evidently been playing the first-grade equivalent of tackle football, if Jack was reading the color in their faces and the dried grass all over them right.

He started that way and was so preoccupied with planning out the conversation he and Matt were about to have that he didn’t hear the folks shouting behind him. Matt saw him and perked up. He handed off the football and met Jack at the water fountain in the middle of their paths. He knew he was in trouble.

Jack put his hands on his hips to emphasize it and was validated at the guilty dropped eyes he got in return.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “That’s what I thought. Come on, then. You know what comes next.”

Matt scowled and dropped his face, mumbling out excuses.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” Jack said.

Matt pouted.

“Hey, you’re in the way,” a new voice said. Jack stood up straight and glared over his shoulder.

“You got the whole pavement, asshole. Go around,” he snapped.

And the next thing he knew, there was a man in a suit manhandling him off the concrete onto the grass.

“You need to move,” the guy growled.

Oh hell no. Not in this neighborhood, pal.

Jack shoved him back; the guy wasn’t prepared for that, it would seem. He fell back right on his ass and stared up, stunned.

“Who do you think you are?” the man babbled, struggling up. He had some kind of thing in his ear, like a secret service man.

Jack huffed at him and went back to collect Matt. They evidently couldn’t have this discussion here.

“HEY. I’m talking to you.”

The second the hand hit his shoulder, time fast-forwarded and Jack came back to himself with the dude with a bloody hand slapped over his face and a fucking roaring crowd of neighbors all around him.

Oh, shit.

“Shit,” he said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?” the asshole snarled, ripping his hand away from his mouth to reveal a split lip. “You come out here to assault one of Tony Stark’s bodyguards, huh? You one of these fuckin’ low lives who think they own this city? Hit me again, pal. We’ll see who’s the real winner in the court of law, huh?”

Woah.

Hey, now. Jack had just been trying to apologize.

“FUCK ‘IM UP, JACKIE,” Someone shrieked from the middle of the crowd in the street.

“Jackie? Your name’s Jackie? Jackie what? Full name and address, asshole, give it to me,” the suit demanded.

This.

Was not excellent.

“Listen man,” Jack said as calmly as the roiling, bubbling heat in his chest would allow. “I’m just trying to pick up my kid, alright? So why don’t you fuck off and we both pretend like none of this ever happened?”

The suit scoffed.

“Sure,” he jeered, “Yeah, you pick up your little bitch and clear out. Why don’t we do just that?”

Um.

Oof.

Mm.

“Daddy?”

MMF.

Jack could not break this man in half in front of his son.

He could not make this man beg for mercy in front of his son.

No. That wasn’t true. He could. But he wouldn’t. He had an example to set.

“Yo, what’s going on here? Will, is everything alright?”

The suit suddenly broke eye contact with Jack and turned to a short dude dressed in an obnoxious hoodie and flip flops.

“Everything is just fine, Mr. Stark,” he said, all prim and proper. “This guy’s just impeding the walkway.”

Mr. Stark—fuck, that explained a lot—had to be around Jack’s age. He had dark eyelashes and was probably pretty in other parts of the city. But here? Nah, a pretty man was a working man and this guy, for all his unshaven jaw and tousled hair, was not it.

“Alright, so move, man,” Stark said towards Jack. “It’s public property. You don’t own it.”

“You don’t either,” Jack pointed out to another uproar in the crowd.

Stark chewed on his tongue and chuckled.

He held his hands up.

“That’s fair,” he said. “Leave it, Will. He’s not bothering anyone.”

Will the Suit blustered all over.

“He’s assaulted me, sir,” he said, pointing at his lip. “Not to mention, he’s obviously out here to rile up the crowd.”

“I’m just out here to pick up my son,” Jack snapped.

“So pick him up and get out of the fuckin’ way already,” Will growled.

Ho, ho, motherfucker.

Jack did not move. He held the guy’s eye.

“Daddy.” Matt’s little hands found their way to his wrist.

He was scared. And the thought sent another ripple of heat through Jack’s body.

This was their neighborhood. This was Matt’s home. Jack’s home. And he wouldn’t be treated like shit in it. He wouldn’t teach Matt to bow his head to people with more money.

“You heard your kid,” Will the suit said, “Good to know the next generation here’s got some kinda brains in their heads. Lay off.”

“You ain’t better than us,” Jack spat. He stood up tall and breathed slow. “None of you. This is our city, not yours. So get the fuck out. We don’t need your fuckin’ money, Stark.” He twisted his head to make direct eye contact with this man and his tousled hair and eyelashes.

This wasn’t about some shithead in a suit anymore.

Stark tipped his own face slowly to the side.

“You got guts,” he said. “But honestly, man, you all actually could use my money. You got holes in your shirt, friend. You think—”

“We’d rather have a park than a store we can’t afford to buy from,” Jack said.

“So shop somewhere else,” Stark replied with wide hands. “But this isn’t about a store, you know. This is about an office; a whole five floors of new jobs—”

“Yeah, as janitors,” A gal with a sign on her shoulder said, squirming out of the crowd. “As service people to the rich lapdogs you drag in here to do your business for you.”

“You’d have new patrons for your fine establishments,” Stark said calmly to her.

“Oh sure, I bet they’d flock here, yeah,” the gal drawled. “Them and their pretty white families, with all their pretty, GAP clothes. And you know what they’d do, Stark? They’d start complaining about the quality of our ‘fine establishments.’ They’d start demanding shit we can’t afford, to the point where we’d have to find ways to afford ‘em, just so that we could make an honest living—and by then, our own moms and neighbors wouldn’t be able afford to pay for our so-called fine services.”

“So they would go somewhere else, and you would still be making a profit,” Stark reasoned.

“I should be able to do laundry at the laundromat closest to my house,” the gal pointed out to a chorus of support. “It’s not about money. It’s about community.”

Stark huffed.

“And what a community it is,” he said sarcastically. “You got this guy out here, punching people on the streets ‘cause he can’t keep his kid under control, you got used needles on every corner, trash piling up in the gutters—you call that ‘community?’”

“I call it poverty,” the woman said.

“Business and investment will help alleviate—”

“Mr. Stark,” the woman interrupted, “For all them brains in your head, you sure aren’t good at thinking. Or listening. So why don’t you just take a moment for the next minute and practice. Just listen. Look at me—really look, sir.”

Stark did, but he made it real clear that he was doing it out of the kindness of his heart.

“If you really cared about poverty,” the gal said slowly, “You and all your war money and all your millionaire and billionaire friends would fund community programs. Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t need new businesses, Mr. Stark. We have plenty of our own. What we need are services. Better services. More services. We need people who want to help us as people. Not clients. Not customers. As a community of human beings. And until you really, truly understand what that means, you and your friends aren’t welcome here in Hell’s Kitchen. So, sir, what do you say?”

The crowd fell silent. Jack lifted his chin and stared down at Stark around it just in case he or his security detail got any ideas.

Stark glanced up at him, then back at the woman and then, for the briefest second, at Matt barely peeking out from behind Jack’s hip.

He cleared his throat.

“Well, I see that we’re not welcome here,” he said. “Perhaps we can table this discussion for now due to community concerns, which I’m sure we can overcome in the future. What do you say, Miss?”

“Mrs,” the woman corrected. “I say you’re welcome to try as many times as you want.”

Stark looked her over and scoffed.

“Oh, I will,” he said, “I got this little thing called ‘spite’ in me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman said peacefully.

Stark didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He puffed himself up and told his guards that he was ready to go. This visit was not worth extending.

The crowd parted to let him and his suits through and was more or less quiet as they all watched him get in his fancy car and drive away.

Jack felt the tension in his shoulders settled down. He stroked a hand over Matt’s hair.

“Thanks for the rescue, Bess,” he said.

Bess beamed up at him.

“Anytime, Jackie,” she said. “Anytime.”

—

AHEM.

Bess Mahoney was Hell’s Kitchen’s main superhero before DD. Thank you and good night.

[cobwebsaint]

BLEASE DO THE SPIT FIC

AHHHH YES alright obligatory NSFW warning and link to the original if anybody is compelled to leave some sweet kudos or a comment or anything. The garbage stays under the cut for the sake of your eyeballs and your dash.

[Before we even get into the meat of this mf let it be known I was BULLIED into participating in the Slipknot body fluids garbage trend and I still hate it but god was it all downhill from there. Y’all know who you are. Bitch.]

Corey really did have a hard fucking time shutting up, and it almost always got him in some level of shit. After getting the shit kicked out of him at bars and parties and shows approximately three trillion times, you would have thought he’d learned his lesson. 

He did not. 

[I have never spoken a word that was not true. The Corey Taylor gremlin is just an obnoxious big mouthed creecher. He cannot help thise.]

The man had no off button. He knew it, everybody else knew it— it was just something they all had to live with. Jim especially. Jim signed on for this bullshit every single day.

That was his own fault.

[Ah yes, the birthplace of what is now known as the domestic nightmares AU. I promise I’m actually gonna write it. I have a whole sandbox doc. But point is they’re stupid and they’re gross and they’re boyfriends.]

He was off on some godforsaken tangent again about nothing in particular, which Jim had tuned out a good ten minutes ago. Sometimes he felt a little bad about how easy it’d become to turn Corey to white noise, but then he caught something about what Ted Bundy did right or pounding back all the Kool-Aid at Jonestown (“It’s Flavor-Aid, James.”) and decided it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all. Some things were just better left alone. Letting Corey babble while Jim mindlessly twisted his fingers through his curls was a pretty good option in Jim’s book.

Of course, that was all up until Corey inevitably realized he was being ignored and made it a point to get the spotlight back. 

[In which Jim shares the same emotion towards Corey and his Sagittarius center of attention disease as the rest of us.]

Jim shifted away from the finger that was jabbing him hard in the ribs, pulling a face and looking down at Corey who had propped himself up on his chin, laying on Jim’s stomach. “What’d I do this time? Jesus.”

“You better be thinkin’ about something real fuckin’ important.” 

[Bold of him to assume Jim is experiencing thoughts at all tbh.]

“Oh yeah. Daydreaming about the day you’re finally able to sit and shut up for more than ten seconds.”

[Aren’t we all.]

Corey narrowed his eyes, punching Jim in the side, satisfied with the “Ow!” he earned in response. “You fuckin’ prick. You don’t get to complain.”

“I get to complain the most. Nobody else sitting here listening to you talk about the logistics of having a conjoined twin, y’know. I’ve earned that right fair and square, dude.”

“What, you’re telling me you haven’t thought about how you’d—”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

[Just in case you were wondering, (you probably weren’t) the gremlin is thinking about how you’d fuck with a conjoined twin.]

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head, but he still couldn’t hide the dumb little smirk that wanted to tug at the corners of his lips. “God, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Corey started up again and Jim immediately cut him off, reaching over to clap a hand over his mouth. “Ah! Don’t. Just. Shut up.”

[Jim: asks that question

Corey: starts telling his entire life story for the sixtieth time that week]

Corey batted Jim’s hand away, pushed himself up, crawling in close enough to swing a leg over Jim, straddling his hips. He leaned in, probably half a millimeter from Jim’s face, hands planted at either side of his head, curls cascading down around him. He was still pretty even when he was being a bastard and it was total bullshit. 

[You’re just mad your dick won’t you stay mad at him, James.]

“Make me.” 

Jim snorted a laugh. “Just say you want me to choke you out and be done with it.”

“Nah, that’s you. ‘Sit on my dick and strangle me, it’ll be great.”

“Don’t make me out to be the fuckin’ pervert when you’re the one begging me to step on your balls,” Jim retorted, barely even batting an eye. 

Corey sat up a little, leering down at Jim and running his tongue over his teeth. Eventually he just resigned to it. “Fair. But you’re still gross.”

[Points were made. There ain’t no winning here lbr.]

“Mhm. Right.” Jim reached up, threading a hand messy through Corey’s hair to bring him into a kiss. “You done bitching yet? Can I go back to only kinda hearing the crazy shit that comes out of your mouth again?”

“Hell no,” he said, shaking his head for that extra touch of dramatic emphasis. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? If you weren’t the size of a goddamn skyscraper I’d swear you just crawled out of whatever pit you came from.”

“Maybe I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. The great big mouth will never be silenced.” Jim giggled, bringing a knee up to knock Corey over beside him. He rolled over, pinning him down instead. “Y’know, except maybe when you’ve got a dick shoved in your face. Still making noise, but at least you’re not fuckin’ talking.”

Corey got a look on his face like he’d just reinvented the wheel, squinting his eyes up in a shit-eating grin, and Kill Bill sirens started going off in Jim’s head. No. Nope. We are under attack. This couldn’t be anything good. 

“Okay, but just consider— AND HEAR ME OUT, OKAY?” Corey cut in, watching the idea of interrupting him again flicker through Jim’s head. “What about two dicks? I bet I could fit two dicks in my mouth.”

Well. Huh. Maybe that did have Jim some sort of interested. He sat back a little, looking Corey up and down. “…You have my attention.”

“Listen, I know this chick and—” 

Jim had to laugh, ‘cause Corey thinking he was actually gonna share had to be the funniest goddamn thing to happen to him all week. He didn’t consider himself the jealous type. Maybe a little possessive sometimes. But he had to keep a tight leash on Corey Todd “Himbo” Taylor. Him being certified Awful was what got them into this mess in the first place. Jim just had a bad habit of catching feelings. Whatever, clearly Corey was more than okay with it.

[Yes I did use the word himbo in this fic and no I do not accept criticism. Also a bit of lore is that Corey essentially annoyed the absolute dick out of Jim until he was about ready to commit a murder all as an elaborate plan to get a date.]

“Nope, try that again.”

“Alright, what about Mick or—”

“Is that supposed to be better?” 

Corey groaned, punching Jim in the shoulder. “Why you gotta ruin all the fun? Can’t a dude get his face fucked and not get a bunch of shit for it?”

“Never said you couldn’t,” Jim mused. “But if you think I’m gonna let anybody else have that kind of satisfaction, you’re dead wrong dude. I’m the only one around here who deserves it. Take it or leave it.” 

Corey cocked his head to the side, staring Jim down like he was supposed to take him seriously. Like Jim didn’t already know the answer. Like he didn’t know that Corey was physically incapable of turning down the chance to get his shit rocked, whether it happened the way he wanted it to or not. 

“Fuck you. Fine.”

[Okay so this WHOLE FIC was deadass prompted by that stupid fucking picture of Corey with his fist shoved in his mouth skdjfg. So I was talking to Marina and I was like. Y’know. I bet he could fit two dicks in there. And I just kinda went buck wild. Jim was supposed to split the little bastard’s lips and shove a dildo in there too but that. Did not happen. Maybe someday.]

Content, Jim rolled off of him, got to his feet, and made a ‘well?’ gesture. Corey didn’t move, instead shooting him a look. A challenge.

Still playing that game. Alright.

Jim reached down, twisting Corey’s hair around his fist and dragging him towards the edge of the bed. “Really gonna be stubborn when you’re the one who’s begging for it?” 

“You want it all for yourself, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

[Sir that is not how this works.]

Smug little fucker. Corey had put him through the same act at least a billion times now but somehow he still managed to find a way to get Jim to want to smack the ego right out of him. 

Corey slipped off the bed, knees buckling without (a ton of) struggle when Jim pushed him towards the floor. He tilted Corey’s head back, getting a firm grip on his jaw. 

“How you manage to be so cute while being such a pain in the ass still fuckin’ blows my mind, y’know.”

A giggle bubbled up in Corey’s chest. He strained against the hand in his hair, trying to wriggle his way out of Jim’s hold. He knew it wasn’t gonna happen, but hey— couple fingerprint shaped bruises never hurt anyone. 

[I didn’t realize how weird the wording here was until after I posted it ngl. Like. He’s angling Corey’s head back by pulling his hair and holding him there by holding his jaw. Just. To clear that up. I’ve been obsessing over this one little line for months cuz it’s a little weird but I Am Not Changing It.]

“You love it. Wouldn’t have put up with me this long if you didn’t. It’s okay, Peach. You can admit I’m hot shit.”

“Shut up, would you?” Jim tugged back, drawing a surprised noise out of Corey that only served to melt back into a laugh. “Jesus.”

“Come on, don’t be so touchy. I’m right.” Corey slid a hand up the inside of Jim’s thigh, pressing his palm into him and grabbing his already half-hard cock through his sweats. “If I’m not, then explain this away. Pavlov ain’t got shit on me.”

Nah. Nope. That was more than enough out of him. Jim wrenched Corey’s hand away, taking his hands off him just long enough to shove his sweats and boxers down and free his cock. “Open. And hands to your fuckin’ self.”

[SEE HE JUST MAD HIS DICK ENTERS THE CHAT EVERY TIME COREY’S BEING A LITTLE BITCH.]

Thankfully, that was the one thing that Corey didn’t try and fight. He leaned his head back, opened his mouth, and locked his gaze with Jim’s. Stupid pretty blue eyes practically sparkling, knowing damn well he got Jim good. Fuck. Asshole couldn’t turn it off for a second, could he? 

Jim grabbed him, holding him in place as he guided his dick into his mouth. Warm and wet and fucking perfect as always. This little shit was gonna give him a heart attack some day, he just knew it. 

He started off slow, watching Corey melt into it. Eyes fluttering shut, cheeks hollowing out around him, hands clasped behind his back. Tongue laving expertly around the head of Jim’s cock like it was second nature. Hot shit was a stretch, but hot was a different story. 

“Fuck yeah, that’s good,” Jim groaned, hand anchored on the back of Corey’s head as he rolled his hips into his mouth. “All bark and no bite. Think it would be easier to just say you wanna get used like a toy. Least you’re good at it.”

Corey made a pleased noise, leaning into it, taking Jim’s length deeper. He opened his eyes again, looking up at Jim through his lashes and whining softly. A plea for more. More ‘cause he was a greedy little bastard. 

Jim took the cue, snapping his hips forward, tightening his grip. He heard Corey sputter around him a bit, which only served as further encouragement. He fucked into his mouth in quick, deep thrusts, Corey practically going limp before him. The heat, the way Corey pressed his tongue against the underside of his cock, face contorting a bit every time Jim’s dick hit the back of his throat. Jim was already wrapped tight around the axel but god, it was too pretty of a sight to give up this early in the game. 

Even if it was giving Corey exactly what he was trying for— a happy Corey was a quiet Corey.

Or quieter.

[Ha.]

When Jim let up to let Corey catch his breath, he probably lost about half his brain cell count. Drool running down his chin, lips pink and swollen, crystal eyes brimming with tears— Corey looked practically ethereal. Like, fuck wings and halos. This was as close to angelic as someone could get and Jim fucking loved it. Shit. 

[He do be pretty tho. Also idk where the sudden religious imagery came from but like. I sure did stick with it huh. Whatever it works.]

Jim dragged his thumb over Corey’s bottom lip, breaking strings of spit that connected with his cock. He hooked his thumb under Corey’s chin, slipping two long fingers in his mouth and pressing down on his tongue. 

Corey closed around them, running his tongue between them before bobbing his head and taking them deeper. He moaned around the digits, shifting on his knees a little like he wanted to buck his hips into something that wasn’t there.

Satisfied, Jim retracted his fingers, rubbing them over Corey’s lips and chin and smearing spit across his face while he caught his breath. Jesus fucking Christ. He was feeling more and more like a ticking time bomb by the minute here, and Corey’s stupid obnoxious pretty blissed out face was doing him no favors. 

[At this point I was like. Hmmm. How many different ways can I ruin this stupid little rat’s entire career. This is really just the everything but the kitchen sink fic.]

No matter how good and perfect and fucked up and fucking slutty he looked down on his knees, taking whatever he was given, that didn’t change a damn thing. He was still the same terrible little demon that Jim knew and loved for some godforsaken reason. 

[THEY’RE IN LOVE!!!]

“‘S that it?” he rasped out, in between heavy breaths he knew he was gonna need to savor.

Nevermind. Jim was gonna kill him. Like, absolutely decimate him. 

[I WANT THAT TWINK OBLITERATED]

He thrust back into Corey’s mouth, finding the same fast pace as before. Haphazardly pulling Corey into it, meeting every rut of hips, making him struggle more this time around. Jim watched him squirm, nails biting into his wrists, but they stayed where they were locked behind his back. 

This was that sweet spot, where Corey felt filthy and used and amazing all wrapped up into one. Sure, he could ask for it, but it wouldn’t be nearly as fun. All the back and forth was part of the game that made the end goal that much sweeter. And yes, he was terrible and loved every minute of bugging the shit out of Jim until he finally snapped. It got him the attention, didn’t it?

[I started to veer off into this sort of perspective shift thing and I didn’t know how I felt about it while I was writing it but honestly I really like how it made the story flow.]

He was worlds away for a while, reduced to nothing more than a hole to be filled while Jim fucked his face. All moans and sloppy wet sounds, soaking up every little sensation— stingy pain of his hair being pulled, jaw starting to ache, cock fucking throbbing and leaking a wet spot into his boxers every time he got the least bit of friction. Jim thought Corey was an angel and this was most definitely heaven. 

Of course, Corey only stayed on cloud nine for so long. Jim hit the back of his throat again, holding him there this time. He only gagged a little at first, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. Corey’s eyes shot open and he whimpered around him, but Jim stayed put.

The second wave was worse, and he finally had to unclasp his hands and bring them up to grip onto Jim’s hips— his sign to let up.

Jim let go and pulled back just in time for a full body wretch to hit Corey. He doubled over, bracing himself on his hands, thick, stringy deepthroat spit dripping from his mouth. He hung his head, breathing hard, and Jim felt his cock twitch. 

[Don’t @ me I had just been subjected to not one but SEVERAL puke fics and I was feeling an emotion okay.]

“Oh fuck me,” Jim said out loud, because Jim was a gross horny fool. 

He knelt down, laying his hand against Corey’s cheek, making him lift his head again. He looked positively ruined. Eyes red, cheeks tear stained, whole mouth wet and well used, the front of his shirt starting to go sheer from all the drool. God, all Jim wanted to do was kiss him.

“Good?” Jim asked, and Corey gave a weak nod. Jim moved in a little closer. “Hey, talk to me. You okay? Need to stop?”

“Yeah, ‘m good,” Corey sighed, leaning his forehead against Jim’s. “Don’t wanna stop, no. Was into it, trust me.” He let go of a gravelly laugh, “Just gimme a minute.”

Jim nodded his head, running his thumb along the curve of Corey’s jaw. “Fuckin’ pretty, y’know.”

[Oh no they’re sweet.]

“Peach?”

“Mmm?”

“Shut up. Don’t just look at me like that. You look dumb.”

[Nvm.]

Jim rolled his eyes, “You shut up.” He curled his hand around the back of Corey’s neck and closed what little gap was left between them with a kiss. He tasted like cigarettes and salt and skin and it made Jim’s head spin and his stomach do backflips. Which I mean, was definitely due in part to the fact that his dick was cocked and ready to blow like a shotgun straight through the wall next to him. But Corey— the feel of his skin and the taste on his tongue and his weight on top of Jim when he was being dumb and pretty and needy and refusing to be anything less than the center of attention— well, that never helped Jim’s case. 

Soft little whimpers from Corey were muffled into Jim’s mouth, hands sliding around his broad frame and hiking his shirt up so Corey could trace over the curve of Jim’s spine. Little bit of contact, closeness that was lost when it wasn’t Jim balls deep inside of him. This was okay though. More than okay, fucking fantastic. Good to the point that Corey didn’t even try and fight when Jim pulled away. Especially not when he tugged his head back, making him look up at the ceiling as he licked a stripe from the very bottom of his chin, back to his lips. He kissed him again, like he needed to be attached at the mouth to survive, tongue easily gaining entry into Corey’s mouth and pulling more throaty moans from him. 

[Jk they’re still gross and in love.]

It was over all too quickly, Corey making a sound in protest as Jim pulled away from him and rose to his feet again. Jim yanked his head back, catching his lower lip with his thumb, mouth falling open once more. Before the thought even had the chance of passing through Corey’s mind of what the hell— Jim was bent over him, holding him in place as he spit into his mouth. Or rather back into his mouth. 

Oh. Shit. Alright. 

[Again, everything but the kitchen sink here boys.]

Several emotions flashed across Corey’s face before he settled in at acceptance, staring up at Jim with big, glazed over eyes as he towered over him.

“You want more?”

Corey nodded a very enthusiastic yes.

“Gonna be a good boy for me?”

That was met with some hesitation, knit brows and a shrug of the shoulders like he was weighing his options. Jim just shook his head. “If you’re gonna be a shit, then you can do it your damn self now. Prove you deserve it.”

Corey shot him a look, but he didn’t exactly try and argue. Wouldn’t be the first time he sucked a dick to make a point. Definitely not the last either. He sat up on his knees, wrapping his hand around Jim’s length, working him in slow, even strokes as he teased his tongue over the head. Jim about had an aneurysm from the looks of it and Corey couldn’t help but giggle. 

Jim knocked his knuckles against the side of Corey’s face. Not hard enough to hurt, but still enough to make him knock it the fuck off.

Stupid slut. 

[This still makes me giggle. Like you bap a fucking cat on the nose dksgdfj.]

Sucking the tip of Jim’s dick into his mouth, Corey gave a contented hum. He bobbed his head up and down, keeping pace with his hand, Jim lazily tracing his fingertips over the stubble on his cheeks. He mumbled a string of praise— ‘fuck yeah, baby’ and ‘so fucking good’ and ‘shit, just like that.’ Caught up and fucked up all over again. Corey Taylor was a bastard and Jim wasn’t about to give him up for a goddamn thing. 

Corey pulled off of him with a filthy ‘pop,’ wasting little time between then and ducking his head down to tongue at Jim’s balls. For what had to be the billionth time in the past ten minutes, Jim was briefly convinced he was going to leave this earth entirely. It was all he could do, to watch dumbly as Corey worked from left to right, sucking and moaning and swirling his tongue in just the right way to make Jim’s dick visibly twitch in his hand 

“Jesus fuck, baby.”

Jesus fuck, indeed. He was already seeing stars and he still hadn’t come yet. Here he was, giving the incentive of more when his knees were about to buckle. Who’s the jackass now?

[Me: writing oral sucks it’s always awkward and repetitive

Also me: stretches the oral to 5k]

Jim’s head fell back as Corey worked his way back up his length, running his tongue along the underside of it before damn near hilting him on his first try. He choked a little, pulling back to center himself before he tried again. Obscene sounds and lascivious moans filled the air, Jim’s eyes squeezed shut as he focused on the heat burning in the pit of his stomach. All he needed was a minute or two and to watch Corey’s eyes roll back in his skull to be pulled taut and ready to snap at any second. 

“Fuck me, I’m so close. Come on baby, don’t stop. Know you want it too.” Jim’s hand had found its way to the back of Corey’s head again, forcing him further down, finding that perfect rhythm again. Call it a sign of encouragement. Or something. 

Yeah, encouragement.  

Corey worked him as hard as he could, sucking and licking and slurping and swallowing him whole until the vibrations from one final groan around Jim’s cock brought all these sensations to a crescendo. Jim held him down as he came hard, spilling down his throat, swearing and gritting his teeth. Corey nursed him through, sucking him slow as Jim’s arms and legs turned to jello. Watching through his lashes as he tensed and moaned, breathing in sharp, ragged inhales until he finally had to shove Corey away ‘cause shit. 

Jim sighed heavily, pushing his hair back and out of his face, staring down at the stupid cocky look on Corey’s face. Were he able to form a coherent thought, he would have taken his ego down a notch— unfortunately, mentally he was still somewhere off in orbit. Without being entirely aware of his own actions, Jim was grabbing Corey by the collar and getting him back up off his knees. He shoved his hands underneath the hem of his shirt, fingertips studying inches of skin, the hair on his stomach, sides damp with sweat, every bump and imperfection before finally pulling the ratty spit-soaked tee over his head. 

[And to your left, you see Service Top Brain immediately taking control the second Jim no longer has enough brain cells to resist it.]

He pulled Corey to him, hands on his waist as he backed up to the bed, knees giving way when they hit the edge of the mattress. Jim hit the bed and laid back, bringing Corey down with him and directly into a kiss. Strong arms circled around Corey’s frame, bodies pressed snug, mouths melded together as one. Whatever post-nut trance Jim was in, it was perfectly fine by Corey. This was close and safe and comfortable and I mean, with the way Jim was rocking him against his stomach, you weren’t gonna hear much more than the sound of his brain cells popping like balloons ‘cause his dick was taking up all the blood flow. 

[They may be stupid but you gotta admit. They are pretty tender too.]

A high pitched whine that (it was safe to assume) was supposed words fell from Corey’s lips as Jim’s connected with the center of his chest. He had pulled away panting, working his way down— mouthing at Corey’s jaw, nipping at his earlobe, leaving a trail of hickeys down his neck. Maybe it had caught Corey off guard a little, not getting told off for being a shit and all, but any and all attention was welcome here with open arms. 

“Fuck, Jim c’mon,” he barely managed to gasp out. Forming sentences wasn’t about to be the first to go. He had a reputation to uphold here. “Better not start messin’ with me now.”

Teeth clinked against metal, Jim tugging on the ring through his right nipple and ripping all the thoughts straight from his brain for a moment. He swirled his tongue over the hardening flesh before biting down. Corey shivered and bit back a moan, pain radiating through him and twisting up in his gut. Like he wasn’t already prepared to implode as is. “Mother fucking Mary. Now you’re just making it a point to be a dick. Nobody likes a tease, Peach.”

[Also calling Jim peach is Corey’s thing in this universe. It’s gross. And soft. They’re the worst.]

Nothing. Not even an upwards glance. 

Corey wanted to scream. He wanted to slam his fist down on the bed, call Jim some new variant on ‘cunt,’ fight back, take control. But he also really didn’t want this to stop. He was so hard it fucking hurt and Jim had him right in the palm of his hand where he could barely keep his head straight and honestly? He was perfectly fine sitting right there. He was probably just missing some cue. Off by a beat and too whiny and stubborn to realize it. (Which he was. Corey never claimed to be smart. Especially not when his lizard brain was kicked into overdrive and all he could think about was getting split in half.) 

[He’s so STUPID. God. Bratty ass dumbass.]

While the idea was pretty appealing, he couldn’t even begin to collect the agency he’d need for any of that anyway. There was now a hand dangerously high up on his thigh, thumb tracing line where it met his hip, and there was no goddamn way he was gonna be able to focus on anything else. 

So Jim still did want him dead. Cool. 

“God baby, what do you want?” Corey whined, raking his nails over Jim’s chest, watching red marks appear in their wake. “I wasn’t even that bad. Did everything you wanted, barely even gave you shit. What, you want me to get you off again? ‘Cause I can do that. I’ll gladly do that if it gets you to quit fucking dragging me along. I’ll do all the work and fuck you myself if I gotta. Could smash my face into a wall and call me a soul sucking whore for all I care. Jesus Christ, just give me more.”

[YOU’RE SO CLOSE YET SO FAR BUD.]

Jim’s fingertips dipped into the elastic of Corey’s boxers, dragging across the front between his hips, just barely brushing against his cock before the waistband snapped back against his skin. Corey yelped, heels of his palms digging into Jim’s collarbones. He had no doubt Jim was thoroughly enjoying this, but the joke wasn’t all that funny anymore. Wasn’t very funny to begin with, actually. 

“Fuck me, Peach please. Please, I’ll do fucking anything. Just quit doing that.”

Suddenly Corey’s back was against the sheets again, Jim sliding back off the bed to tear his boxers down and toss them in some vague direction (he was only really going for away.) He nudged Corey’s legs apart and kneed back up between them, fingers curling around his cock. Corey’s hips immediately jerked up into the contact and he let out a hiss. Good god, he was so fucking sensitive he wanted to die. He made a noise that sounded more like a sob than anything, grabbing at Jim’s wrist. If he stopped he was going to scream but if he kept it up Corey was about to be launched into space and land on fucking Neptune. 

“Was that really so hard?” Jim questioned, and yeah. Maybe it was. Getting Corey to ask nice instead of being a colossal brat was like pulling teeth from an alligator. Fortunately for Jim, he was currently on a one way flight to the next realm. It was a little harder to keep all that up in the moment. 

Another “please” was all Corey managed— clearly asking for something else, something more— but Jim couldn’t just let him have that. 

“See, now you’re getting the hang of it!”

[Jim: See I can be an asshole too]

Corey snaked his arms around Jim’s neck, pulling him down to eye level. “Is it your goal in life to be a giant fucking pain in the ass?”

[Yes. That and buy a bike.]

“As much as it is yours, baby.” Jim laughed, nuzzling against Corey’s cheek. He mouthed little kisses against his jaw, slowly stroking him, pulling a frustrated growl from somewhere deep in his chest. 

He clawed at Jim’s shoulders, threading his hand through Jim’s hair and tugging back hard. More than anything, he was just trying to keep himself some semblance of centered. It wasn’t working very well. “Fucking hell. More, give me more. Give me your hands.”

Jim lifted his gaze, meeting Corey’s eyes, staring at him blankly. 

“Please.”

The grip around Corey’s cock let up and he groaned again at the loss of friction. It was gonna take next to nothing to make him fall apart. Callused fingers fingers slip up his torso and caught on his bottom lip, still kissed and swollen. “I’ll do that for you, but you might have to remind me how you earned it.”

Corey barely let him finish before he had his lips wrapped around two digits, working his tongue along them. He held onto Jim’s wrist, forcing them back and making himself gag hard. At this point, he didn’t care what it took. Besides, it was either keep his mouth busy or run it anyway. He flashed a look back up at Jim, batting his lashes and making sure to give him a little show before finally pulling off and kissing his fingertips. Is that wasn’t enough, then he didn’t know what the fuck would be.

And thank fucking buddha Jim’s mouth was enveloping his own just a moment later, one of his thighs being pushed back for a better angle and some leverage as Jim’s other hand slid between his legs. Slick fingers pressed against his entrance, drawing a pathetic noise from his throat, his legs twitching in eager anticipation. 

The first eased in, sunk home, and Corey could have sworn he saw the light in that moment. Glitter and gold and pearly gates, fluffy white clouds, and giant fucking bearpaw hands that were holding his entire fucking being in their palms. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to that— Jim being that big. I mean sure, his dick alone could take out a whole city easily, but it was all of him. Limbs and chest and hips and hands. Oh good god, his hands. Say what you want about how dumb and awkward he was otherwise, but he always knew exactly what he was doing with his hands. 

[HE DO BE LANKY AND AWKWARD. Also I still can’t help but think of how weird his hands are. Like they’re so SMALL in proportion to the rest of him but they’re still HUGE. James what the fuck is that shit.]

 Corey moaned into the mouth locked with his own as Jim started to pump in and out of him, the stretch nearly impossible feeling for just one finger. Maybe it was that he was already desperate, ready to burst, that had him so beyond himself. Maybe it was just the fact that Jim knew exactly how to poke and prod to make him start to come apart at the seams. 

He started to relax more, lean into it (or as best as he could with the weight on top of him.) Steady chants of ‘yes, yes, yes, more, fuck’ swarmed around whatever little bubble they’d been encapsulated in. Corey practically had Jim in a chokehold, holding him down as close as he could possibly get, foreheads pressed together. Completely and totally consumed. 

Another finger worked inside him, curling and twisting and scissoring him open, making him flutter around them and writhe to find just the right— 

“There, there. Don’t you dare stop. Holy shit.” Corey cried out, arching up off the mattress, holding onto Jim for dear life. “So fucking good. Feels so fucking good.”

Jim brushed his fingertips against Corey’s walls again, hitting that sweet spot and eliciting another borderline embarrassing moan. “Yeah, that’s it. Not so tough like this, are you? Fight so hard to get what you want and you still come undone for me just the same. Real good when you want to be, y’know.”

Whatever Corey wanted to say came out in an incoherent mumble— something something for you and something something damn lucky. His orgasm was already twisting and burning in the pit of his stomach, and his was still only very loosely tied to this realm. Beyond taken and fucked up and he loved every minute of it. 

[Fighting to the very end, even with fingers in his ass. Just shut up already you stupid slut.]

He couldn’t take his eyes off Jim as he wormed his way out of his grasp, sat back, spread his legs a little wider apart. He leaned down, and Corey was vaguely aware of him spitting before he felt like he was being properly split in two. A third digit joined the other two. God, it was almost too much. Impossibly full and tight and overwhelming, all thanks to James and his inhumanely big hands that were surely going to be Corey’s cause of death here one of these days. 

Corey couldn’t even breathe now, squeaking out another little plea for more, honed in on Jim like a deer in headlights. He knotted his hands up in the sheets, finally able to roll his hips and fuck himself against Jim’s hand without him pinning him in place. The blood rushing through his ears still wasn’t quite loud enough to drown out Jim’s encouragement— “So good, so pretty, look at you, perfect little slut. All mine. Come on baby, let me see you come.” 

That alone was enough to make Corey’s eyes roll back in his head, but one last perfect angle of his hips was what finally sent him over the edge. He came so hard his vision went fuzzy, limbs giving out as he spilled over his stomach and cried out, “Oh god, fuck daddy.”

[THERE IT IS. One of the terrible influences who shall not be named popped into my DMs like “Consider: unnegotiated honorary in a moment of carnal horny and then Jim just straight up CACKLES” and I was like well. Guess That’s Getting Throw In The Pile Too.] 

There was a minute of blank, overwhelmed and far away and completely beyond himself. Jim milked him through it, still working his fingers in and out as the aftershocks made him twitch and whimper, until he started to come back down again. Actually, the only thing that snapped him back to the here and now was realizing that Jim was laughing. Not just laughing, giggling like a goddamn school girl. 

You had to be fucking kidding. 

Corey reached out, attempting to smack him but missing entirely. “Fuck’s so funny?”

“Daddy? Dude. You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding right?” Jim dissolved into another fit of laughter, eyes scrunched up in a big grin. 

“Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth now. You don’t get to hold the shit I say when I come against me.” Corey huffed, sitting up on his elbows and trying to scoot away. Unlucky for him, Jim was still big enough to lean over him again and still be eye level. 

He pushed Corey’s hair back, pressing a kiss to his lips with a deep chuckle. “Quit your whining. You alright?”

Corey rolled his eyes, collapsing with a sigh and (albeit begrudgingly) circling his arms around Jim’s neck. “Mmm, peachy. Just shut up and cuddle me, you fucking demon. And you tell no one about that.”

[ANYWAY. This fic took me like three wholeass months or something so I hope it was worth it. There’s also a coinciding playlist that goes with this beast if you click on the AO3 link back at the top. Thank you for reading this disaster.] 

[thekrazykeke]

This is so much fun, I swear before Jesus! As a big family person myself, writing about the reader’s family is cathartic. Mainly because families spill the tea in my stories more than the main character ever will 😙🤣

Boop.

It’s easy to get caught up with Erik, to be swept up in his energy. Although you’d tried to maintain a ‘slow and steady wins the race’ mentality when you’d agreed to be his girl, somehow, someway, the two of y’all just dived headfirst into a relationship. 

More often than not, you ended up staying the night over at his crib and you didn’t always use the excuse of wanting to play video games to go see him. He surprised you by how affectionate and touchy-feely he is, though you tried to get used to it and reciprocate in kind, you had been on your own for a good stretch and some habits are hard to break. It didn’t irritate him (so much) anymore and he even took it with good grace, seeming to make it his mission to wrap an arm around your waist that more often, kiss the back of your neck, or pull you into his lap, etc.

Nadia noticed the change in y’all dynamic and while she said that she approved, there was the feeling that she was distancing herself from you, which hurt, if you were being honest, since the two of y’all had hit it off instantly and been flatmates for over two years. 

However, you weren’t the type to beg anyone to be friends with you if they didn’t want to. 

The independent streak that your mother had nurtured in you your whole life wasn’t disappearing anytime soon, if at all, and occasionally, it clashed with Erik’s habit of spoiling you with too much of, well, just about everything: clothes, shoes, hair, nails, etc. Hell, he had paid off your portion of the rent for six months (you’d managed to talk him out of paying off the entire year just barely). While you would like to say that you were happy, and most of the time you truly are, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Girl, you stupid.” Breanna, your older cousin, stated bluntly. “This nigga is payin’ bills, showering you with gifts, and, wait, is the dick good?”

You swirled the spoon in the bowl of ice cream, unable to meet her eyes. “So good.” 

“Did you hit ya head or somethin’? I should walk out of this cafe right now. You called me alllllll the way out here with a SOS text message and I’m thinkin’ it’s a serious situation.” Giving you the stink eye, she stabbed her slice of pie viciously. “Bitch, you is living the dream.” 

“It is a serious situation.” Ignoring her ‘girl, stop it!’ look, you purse your lips, “Like, I don’t know where he works, what he does for a living. He told me a little bit about his childhood, but...” 

“Y/N, baby cousin, I love you like a sister, and because I care about you so much, I’m going to say something that might hurt your feelings.” Breanna comments, putting down her fork.

“Oh, damn. Lay it on me then, cuz.”

“Your current boo is not your stank ass ex, Mitchell. Girl, you need to celebrate, apparently yo pussy so good, you got a hotep willing to be a househusband. I mean, damn. Give me lessons!” Expressively, she gesticulated as her voice gained an octave. Customers glanced in y’all direction and you laughed nervously before glaring at her. “Sorry, sorry.” Breanna apologized, tone lowering again. “Does he know about Mitchell?”

“Can we change the subject from that whack ass nigga?” You complain.

Mitchell Sanders had been your high school sweetheart and the two of y’all had dated a year and a half through college. During the final year of your relationship, he had been increasingly short tempered and critical of everything about you. While you were young, dumb and in love, you weren’t too sprung that you didn’t love your melanin skin and his passive-aggressive, caustic comments about ‘if you were a little lighter...’ only frustrated and depressed you enough to eventually dump his ass. Not even two months later, he started dating Cassandra Wynters, a preppy white soccer player. Last you’d heard about the happy couple, they’d been racing for the nearest courthouse as she was pregnant.

“No, because that nigga got yo silly-dilly ass thinkin’ that yo future baby daddy is a no good asshole wit a white girlfriend on the side.” 

“Oh God. You know what? I’ma head on out of here.” You try to flag down the waiter, only Breanna kicks you in the shin. “Ow, bitch! Mercy!” You hiss through your teeth. “The hell?”

"You such a baby.” She rolled her eyes. “Sit wit me for a few extra minutes before I gotta go back home.” Breanna instructed sternly, in the way that only family members really could command somebody to do anything. “This the only time I get some personal time away from Miguel and Tiana.”

“Oooh, how are your kids?” You pick up your spoon, the melted sweet dripping off the end and back into the bowl. 

Snorting, her tone is fond as she says, “Bad as hell as usual. Dre’s watching them right now so it’s all good. They always behave for they daddy.” Mushy expression changing quickly, she pointed a finger at you accusingly, “Girl, don’t even try and change the subject, though! You need to communicate with ya man so that he can address these issues early in the relationship. I will not stand by and let you sabotage yourself because you scared that you feelin’ this dude a little too much.” 

“Whatever, Bre. I’m done talkin’ about this for today.” 

Even though you said that, it lingered at the back of your mind the rest of the day. Work was routine so you didn’t mess up due to inattentiveness, thank goodness, and you couldn’t talk to Nadia since right now the two of y’all were in some strange type of friendship/flatmate limbo. 

"Wassup?” That’s the greeting Erik gave you before giving you a peck on the lips. “...Ay, you good?” He asked, pulling back a little to scrutinize you carefully. 

‘Fuck, he’s figured it out!’ Reaching a hand up, you place it against the nape of his neck, leaning in for another quick kiss. “Mm, better now. I mean, heh, why wouldn’t I be?”

Score one for being overcompensating. 

Eyebrows raising, for a heart stopping moment you thought he’d call you out on your bullshit, but Erik just shook his head. “...Okay. Good day at work then. I can work wit that. I’m sayin’ though, you wanted to check out that restaurant on McMillan and 4th West Ave? I made a reservation if you still wanna go...?” 

“The restaurant with the skyline view of the city and that famous seafood chef that cooks his food fresh every day?” Eyes lighting up, you launch yourself into his arms and he gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you. “Yes, yes, yes! Please!” Hands framing his face, you kissed him again, this time more intently, feeling his fingers squeezing your thighs. “And afterwards we can come back here. You let me say thank you again, properly?I might even get on my knees.”

Erik set you down on your feet. Bodies brushing up against each other, there’s no mistaking the feeling of him being half hard. “Don’t start that shit. Teasing a nigga before we go out in public.” Popping you on the ass, he snorted at the squeal you let out. “Hurry up. That reservation at seven thirty.” 

You gaped at him momentarily, turning to leave, “Why didn’t you say that at first?!”

“I’m tellin’ you now!” 

Last minute as it was, the two of y’all showed up literally dressed to slay. All eyes were on the both of you. The question in all of those pale faces were ‘How can these negroes afford to eat here?’, if not phrased exactly like that, the point still stood. 

Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care for once. 

It didn’t matter how Erik knew the chef personally and that they shook hands as if old friends, or how the table he’d booked was strategically placed right near the area where the chef worked and you wouldn’t miss a thing while he cooked. 

For tonight, you had decided to let those fears and anxieties go. To enjoy this date with ya man.

Then the weirdest thing happened. 

“Y/N?” A nasally, high pitched voice called. "Oh my God, Y/N! Hey, hi!” Waving excitedly is a slightly plump, but cute waitress. Handing off a tray of drinks to another waiter, she hurried over to the table. “It’s been so long.”

“Uhh, baby?” Erik is understandably confused and so are you.

“I’m sorry. Do I...know you?”

“Oh! Oh, duh!” Slapping her forehead, she went through a quick demonstration of your alma mater’s hand sign. “It’s me! Cassandra!” She added, when it became clear that you were still drawing a blank.

“O-Ooooh, Cas. Wooooow, girl. Hey.” Your greeting lacked enthusiasm and Erik raised an eyebrow at you. You valiantly ignored this as you grasped for something nice to say. “Lookin’ good, girl. Shoot, I ain’t even recognize you.”

“It’s okay.” Heavily, she dropped into a seat next to Erik and yourself after grabbing a chair from another table. “I know I put on a few pounds since college and I cut my hair.” 

“Nooo!” Waving your hands frantically, you shake your head, “It’s not that. It’s just...I thought you’d be on TV, living your dream as a soccer player and everything.” Erik ‘coughed’ into his fist. “Sorry! Cassandra, this is my man, Erik. Baby, this is Cassandra Wynters.”

He ignored her outstretched hand. “And we on a date. So...maybe get back to your job?” 

As if you’d only just recognized her uniform, you gasped, hoping it’s believable. “Oh damn! I didn’t mean to take up all your time with my chit-chatting. I don’t want you to get in trouble, and we are on a date, so... Rain check. I’ll have the, um, maitre d’ give you my contact info.” 

Cheeks flushed, she raised slowly from her position, “Right. So sorry, that was rude and inappropriate, my just running over here.” Laughing awkwardly, a little piggish snort escaped and you sipped at your drink to avoid laughing in her face. “I’ll catch you later then.” 

“Yep. Ta-ta!” Dismissing her, you turn your full attention onto Erik once again, relaxing only when she walked away. 

“That musta felt good, huh?” Erik is excellent at reading your body language and cues. You grin evilly and he snorted. “I can’t believe she just ran her ass over here like y’all was in a crowded subway station or something.”

Your shake your head and thank the waiter who refills the glasses while another takes the extra chair away again. “Some people have no home training!” You state in your best posh voice. 

Placing a hand over his chest, he played along, effecting a ‘shocked’ tone, “Why would you say something so controversial yet so brave?”

It was very likely that y’all made all those white folks big mad with how y’all were laughing and carrying on. Enjoying the food and each other’s company. And when it came time to leave, Erik’s hand on your waist is a warm comfort as you catch sight of Cassandra being scolded by the maitre d’, or her boss, or whoever, at the corner of your eye. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other and you’re the first to look away, tilting your head up to kiss at Erik’s jaw, an action that caused him to startle briefly before he captured your lips in a kiss that toed the line between being indecent and sweet.  

Maybe its God, or karma, or something else telling you to stop questioning every single thing about the mystery surrounding this man, that when it was time to know, he would tell you. To enjoy being the central focus of someone’s attention and who actually, truly, wants to be with you and only you. That everything would work out. Whatever the lesson to be learned here, the thought, ‘I am so blessed.’ Kept reverberating through your brain on a loop. And yeah, you gave that dimple cheeked fool some road head while on the way back to his crib. 

Can you really be blamed? 

[metapikakirby42]

Thoughts on RPDR AS3 Ep. 2

Spoilers. So don’t read ahead if you haven’t watched. XO

Milk - she’s making great TV. Is it grating watch someone be delusional? I dunno but some of y’all like Shannel and she was... O.o ... just saying. But I think Milk is aware. And if she isn’t, the jokes on her isn’t it. So don’t get to harsh peeps. It’s not personal, it’s just drag. (Her “meltdown” about Celine. We get it gurl but Trixie was right.) I have to give her credit tho; she wasn’t wrong about Shangela... But hey...drama...am I right ;) ? Also she was joking about SuperModel thing. She smiled. That was the smile of: I’m proud I just told a joke. And if she really believes that then you and I both know that the joke is on her. Either way, she’s on TV and not us, so don’t get too worked up mawma.

Trixie - So like...Trixie is skating by. Don’t channel Pearl. She didn’t win. But her confessionals are 100% on point. Loved her Dolly but didn’t do much. Her rudemption runway was god-awful. She took notes from Katya’s Knitter-Please and Kennedy’s hello kitty look. Disgusting = Toot. (And from the looks of the preview for next week, She’s getting a wake up call.) WAKE UP, TRIXIE!

Thorgy - Well shit. I just identify with her so much. I can’t hate on her because that’s me. I’d be doing the same. Is she petty? Yes. She was Katya’d -- except Katya was saved. I LOVED HER RUNWAY LOOK -- SHOOT! But I’m also just gonna say, Todrick did nothing to help her really. DID YOU SEE HER GET HERSELF SOMETHING OTHER SCENE TO BE IN. BLESS HER FOR TRYING. Did she deserve to go home tho? I mean yes. But what the fuck was she given? NOTHING. And do I want her to go home? No. I agree with her inner saboteur conspiracy, but like there’s nothing she could do. ALSO I CAUGHT THAT SHADE WHEN SHANGELA & KENNEDY STARTED TALKING OVER THORGY. :( . I empathize with her and I can already see the shit she’s gonna get and it just makes me sad because Thorgy honestly just deserves to be constantly happy and positive. BUT THAT ENDING WAS CREEPY AF. I personally want and expect Morgan to comeback but if Thorgy claws her way back I wouldn’t be mad. (Sorry for this rant, but I really love Thorgy and only want her shout “Whoo!” and be her distracted eccentric self). Was the pageant rigged? I’d agree with Thorgy and say yes. It’s unfortunate because I’ll take Thorgy confessionals over Milk’s because all the gays are complaining about Milk...

Kennedy - FIRST OF ALL. HER RUNWAY? SHOOT. Gurl. She did a reveal. She was crystallized for the gawds. It was gorgeous. THAT IS DRAG. You cannot fucking tell me that is not drag. Just for that look. She deserved to stay. Was her lipsync shit? Yes. But I thought the same for Glamazon Airways too... Was her Janet Jackson not perfect? Yes. But like Kennedy can fucking do the damn thing. I’m rooting for her for the Top 4 purely out of spite for these bitches that can’t get their head out of their asses that this is drag show and bitchy queens = great tv. Like I said before, Trixie was right about Kennedy: she’s a grumpy old drag queen that tells it like it is. And if you can’t handle that honesty...bitch then I don’t know what to tell you.

Shangela - Slayed the house down boots. Kicked it into overdrive. She literally became the snow ho. I love it: SHOOT. Thorgy was right though, Shangela literally was given the best part (her and BenDeLa) and she slayed so no surprise there. Lipsync was great. The Jump Rope gag was fun...but...like..well I’ll talk about later. Shangela is going to fucking play this game and I’m READY FOR IT. If she doesn’t make it to Top 4, she’s gonna go far because she’s about to lay down her alliances quickly.

Aja - Didn’t get enough screen time this episode. But she did really well! I almost thought she did better than Bebe. Plus her Princess Disaster look was GORGEOUS. Personally I give it a Shoot because I just love the original disaster and the glow up is AMAZING - WERK SIS! I really want Aja to go far. Imagine the gag if she gets TOP 4. OMG I’d be surprised but it would be amazing television. Keep it up gurl!

Bebe - Did she slay her Diana Ross? YES. Was there bias? HELL YES. Her runway look was perfection -- Bebe doesn’t do wrong. But was it underwhelming compared to the other glow ups? IMO, yes. I love a good business fish look but you know--then again there weren’t really any looks for Bebe to redeem. IMAGINE IF SHE JUST WALKED IN HER ORIGINAL CROWING FINALE OUTFIT? I would have gagged. Still #TeamBeBe tho. I’m loyal. That edit tho trying to mislead you.

Chi Chi - She nailed Patti. Perhaps she wasn’t perfect, but she did pretty well and was entertaining. See the trick with this is to be funny and entertaining. And Chi Chi did that. Her look was a safe toot for me. I think Chi Chi is beautiful and something about it was fun and youthful. It was a little... teenager goes to a blacklight rave. I’m hoping she serves something more avant-garde soon or something elevated (which stay tuned for next episode cuz she looked gorg). I’m glad she’s safe. ALSO THAT SHADY EDITING IN THE BEGINNING WITH HER CALLING OUT MILK. I see you shady editors. bless you.

BenDeLaCreme - Okay. Next to BeBe, I’m rooting for Ben. And bitch, my other gal is playing the fucking game. She’s playing the congeniality card fucking well. Do I believe her “boo-hoo fish”? Yes and no. She sent Morgan home because of how she was sending people home. She’s PLAYING THE GAME. She is secretly the conniving bitch of this season and I can’t wait. She slayed as Julie Andrews. Except it was no fucking surprise. Her part was also the best and had lots of content to work with. Each queen had a Diva that definitely fit them. But some did have more to work with. Her runway toot. Loved it. Dripping in jewels even more than before. NOW THAT LIPSYNC. I FUCKING SEE YOU BEN. You pulled a Katya. You gave up. You threw that lipsync just to not send another bitch home. You may have done a ruveal gag, but GURL. YOU PHONED IT IN. You had more in you and you could have probably beat Shangela. But you know, I respect you for playing the game bitch. I wouldn’t want to send Thorgy or Kennedy home. Gurl I was waiting for this tactical lipsync throwing shenanigans. I would do it fucking too.

Ben, Shangela, and BeBe are the front runners for now. But I think next episode we’ll start to settle on who’s gonna be there for the long-run. So here’s to another week’s wait for good TV. Also that skit with strip poker? Cute ;) . Also keep up this shady editing. I live for it. It makes ru-watching the episode so much fun. Also this lipsync extravaganza...not great. 5/10. But all the gurls did the best they could.

THORGY RANT CONTINUED:

Imagine Thorgy with any other character. She could have probably have easily done Dolly. She probably could have easily slayed Julie Andrews. HELL, I bet she could of even done Diana Ross. But tell me what the fuck is she supposed to do with Stevie Knicks? What did Todrick give her? NOTHING. -.- . She was Katya’d and she wasn’t wrong. Perhaps I indulge in Delusion (by Jinx) too, but I mean...c’mon.

Her thing with Bob. Is it petty? Yes. But let me tell you, those types of people ARE fucking annoying especially for a person whose constantly in their head. Is that a weakness? yes. Is it something to overcome? yes. But Thorgy isn’t being irrational. Self-doubt and inner saboteur are powerful things that require time and self-improvement to overcome. And Thorgy (and even I) have to continuously work on it. But you forget they’re in the context of stressful competition. IT’S HARD TO NOT COMPARE YOURSELF TO OTHERS. IT’S JUST FUCKING HARD. But you can’t blame Thorgy for still doing the god damn thing. She did so well but when she crashes she burns and it’s not fun to see. But I mean, that’s me too. I empathize so much that I can’t give her shit. I just can’t. that pettiness when she was writing her mirror message. It’s not pretty but shit fucking sucks. I don’t think Thorgy is a hateful person. I think she’s fun. But if you cross her, that’s a big no-no. It sucks to feel like you’re being forced to lose. I wish Thorgy was able to muster some bubbly-ness instead of be bitter but it’s hard.

Finally all these bitches always say that Thorgy was destroyed in her lipsync against Chi Chi and like saying she was desperate. Bitch. You a white bitch going into a lipsync for “And I’m Telling You” against a black queen--the Lipsync assassin? Bitch. Thorgy would have one that lipsync against any other queen except for Bob and Chi Chi. That’s the fucking tea. Chi Chi was in an outfit REMINISCENT of fucking Dreamgirls! SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE LITERALLY WAS FROM DREAMGIRLS. HOW THE FUCK IS THORGY SUPPOSED TO FUCKING BEAT THAT? I’m not saying it was rigged, but bitch, let’s be fucking real. Thorgy was fucking sent home the minute Kim Chi was saved. Imagine Kim Chi vs. Chi Chi. Now I was Team Kim Chi, but I ain’t fucking stupid. Kim Chi is not the queen to defeat Chi Chi in a lipsync of “And I’m telling you”. Thorgy was fucking set up to go home. Was her video a mess? Yes. Was her look a mess? I mean...I liked it...not a huge toot...but not an enthusiastic toot. She crashed that episode--HARD. I totally think it did a disservice to Thorgy. THORGY CONCEDED THE LIPSYNC TO CHI CHI. That’s why she did that cartwheel -- cause it don’t fucking matter. That’s why she waved for attention -- she’s waving bye. That’s why she raised Chi Chi’s arm at the end -- she knows she lost. ALL I’m saying. BTM 3: Thorgy, Chi Chi, Kim Chi. Think of the the combinations of lipsyncs. Chi Chi wins both her match-ups. Kim Chi loses either combo. And think of production team and how that could affect who they want to stay. Of course you wanna keep the avant-garde, unique polite likable Kim Chi. And Chi Chi is just a lovable underdog. Thorgy is getting overshadowed by Bob. She makes great TV cause she’s eccentric but Bob is just doing the god damn thing so of course Thorgy has no favoritism to be helped to stay--if she fucks up, she’s out. ALSO DERRICK STAYED TOO LONG, and this is coming from someone who initially was rooting for Derrick. Oh fucking well. Shit happened and there’s nothing we can change. Reference this lipsync all you want about how terrible Thorgy is, but lemme tell you. I would have tried my best too, but when I know I’m beat, I know I’m fucking beat.

*END RANT* I’m just frustrated with myself atm so I just vented. Sorry if you read this. I didn’t mean for you to read word vomit. But I just needed to just type out shit. I love Thorgy. I really wish better for her. <3 And i’m not mad at the elimination, just disappointed cuz this lipsync was still rigged and shit.