#my meek one

[canisalbus]

Just wanted to tell you that your recent art of Machete looking after Vasco while he's sick reminded me of Nights at the Villa by Gogol. Only a small fragment of it survived, probably because it's straight up author's diary about falling in love for the first time with a man who is already dying. It's such a beautiful little piece and your art really reminded me of it's vibes. Anyway, I'm mentally ill about russian literature and I love your dogs <3

The longing and lamenting quite something, poor guy.

It's not very long so I'm just going to put the whole thing under the cut ->

They were sweet and tormenting, those sleepless nights. He sat, ill, in the armchair. I was with him. Sleep dared not touch my eyes. Silently and involuntarily, it seems, it respected the sanctity of my vigil. Its was so sweet to sit near him, to look at him. For two nights already we have been saying "thou" to each other. How much closer he has become to me since then! He sat there just as before, meek, quiet, and resigned. Good God! With what joy, with what happiness I would have taken his illness upon myself! And if my death could restore him to health, with what readiness I would have rushed toward it!

-

I did not stay with him last night. I had finally decided to stay home and sleep. Oh, how base, how vile that night and my despicable sleep were! I slept poorly, even though I had been without sleep for almost a week. I was tormented by the thought of him. I kept imagining him, imploring and reproachful. I saw him with the eyes of my soul. I hastened to come early to him and felt like a criminal as I went. From his bed he saw me. He smiled with his usual angel's smile. He offered his hand. He pressed mine lovingly.

"Traitor." he said, "You betrayed me." "My angel," I said, "Forgive me. I myself suffered with your suffering. I was in torment all night. My rest brought me no repose. Forgive me!" My meek one! He pressed my hand. How fully rewarded I was for the suffering that the stupidly spent night had brought me!

"My head is weary," he said. I began to fan him with a laurel branch. "Ah, how fresh and good," he said. His words were then… what were they? What would I have not given, what earthly goods, those despicable, those vile, those disgusting goods… no, they are not worth mentioning. You into whose hands will fall -if they will fall- those incoherent, fleebe lines, pallid expressions of my emotions, you will understand me. Otherwise they will not fall into your hands. You will understand how repulsive the entire heap of treasures and honors is that attracts those wooden dolls which are called people. Oh, with what joy, with what anger I could have trampled underfoot and squashed everything that is bestowed by the mighty scepter of the Tsar of the North, if I only knew that this would buy a smile that indicated the slightest relief in his face.

"Why did you prepare such a bad month of May for me?" He said to me, awakening in his armchair and hearing the wind beyond the window-panes that wafted the aroma of the blossoming wild jasmine and white acacia, which mingled with the whirling rose petals.

-

At ten o'clock I went down to see him. I had left him there hours before to get some rest, to prepare [something] to him, to afford him some variety, so my arrival would give him more pleasure. I went down to him at ten o'clock. He had been alone for more than one hour. His visitors had long since left. The dejection of boredom showed on his face. He saw me. Waved his hand slightly.

"My savior." He said to me. They still sound in my ears, those words. "My angel! Did you miss me?" "Oh, how I missed you." He replied. I kissed him on the shoulder. He offered his cheek. We kissed; he was still pressing my hand.

He did not like going to bed and hardly ever did. He preferred his armchair and the sitting position. That night the doctor ordered him to rest. He stood up reluctantly and, leaning on my shoulder, moved to his bed. My darling! He weary glance, his brightly colored jacket, his slow steps- I can see it all, it is all before my eyes. He whispered in my ear, leaning on my shoulder and glancing at the bed: "Now I'm a ruined man."

"We will remain in bed for only half an hour," I said to him, "and then we'll go back to your armchair".

I watched you, my precious, tender flower! All the time when you were sleeping or merely dozing in you bed or armchair, I followed your movements and your moments, bound to you by some incomprehensible force.

How strangely new my life was then and, at the same time, I discerned in it a repetition of something distant, something that once actually was. But it seems hard to give an idea of it: there returned to me a fresh, fleeting fragment of my youth, that time when a youthful soul seeks fraternal friendship with those of one's age, a decidedly juvenile friendship, full of sweet, almost infantile trifles and mutual show of tokens of tender attachment; the time when it is sweet to gaze into each other's eyes, when your entire being is ready to offer sacrifices, which are usually not even necessary. And all those feelings, sweet, youthful, fresh - alas! Inhabitants of a vanishing world - all these feelings returned to me. Good Lord! What for? I watched you, my precious, tender flower. Did this fresh breath of youth waft upon me only so that I might suddenly and irrevocably sink into even greater and more deadening coldness of feelings, so that I might become all at once older by a decade, so that I might see my vanishing life with even greater despair and hopelessness? Thus does a dying fire send its flames up into the air, so that it might illuminate with its flickering the somber walls and then disappear forever.

[greykolla-art]

Charlie: “I’m so glad my most villain-coded friend is at full power again! 🥰💕”

*throws this to you angst goblins like raw steak* ❤️

(No I will not do a part 2!❤️)

[chasedbyunclewalt]

A whole bunch of random extremely specific headcanons I have been thinking about forever for dating all the different dead poets~~~

Charlie

Hear me out

He’s the ‘tough’ one of the group

This is terrible but I think the dead poets made him tell Todd about Neil because no one else could bring themselves to. (I wanna write a fic about this so bad)

Charlie aggressively cares for all his friends

He needs someone to aggressively care for him

So when you guys are alone it takes time for him to lose his tough guy facade

But when he does he’s kind of a baby

Clinging to you

Wanting attention

Having someone to care for him is so foreign but he loves it and tries to care for you the same way.

You guys when you aren’t being all lovey and adorable are like partners.

Making joint decisions, just working well together overall

He likes to high five you and then kiss you

Like high five, grabs hand, pulls you into a kiss

Todd

His parents literally never keep an eye on what he does over the summer

So he’s always over at your house or you’re at his

His house is gianttttt and has a pool

Not that he cares that much

But it’s impressive to say the least

Jefferey is the only one of his family who actually knows you’re dating

Like I said his parents don’t care like at all

But Jef is actually super nice and supportive

Todd gets lonely very easily

So if you’re not together he tries to call you

If you don’t pick up he writes about you

He gets the best gifts

Not because of money or anything but because he’s so thoughtful

Everything thing he gives you has an entire train of thought behind it

Modern day AU almost every time you text him he screenshots it and sends it to Neil asking how to answer

1950’s universe he’s one of the few families with multiple television sets and lets you watch whatever you want.

He likes sleepovers

And his favorite way to cuddle is him sitting up on the bed with you laying on his stomach wrapped around him.

Touch starved.

Meeks

Gets sooooo annoyed when his glasses are dirty

He absolutely hates it

You buy him portable lense cleaner

He loves you period

Like everyone can tell this boy is in love

His love language is acts of service

So he’s always offering to help you with homework

He literally did your laundry once

He’s so down bad anything you do makes his jaw drop

On the floor

Stunned

You guys create your own secret language

He speaks it faster than you and usually say’s disgustingly sweet things

Great with kids

Great with parents

Plant dad. He loves those big vine things idk what they’re called but they wrap around the room

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

I just know his breath smells rancid.

[everythingisawayoflife]

Random Dead Poets Headcanons

i love my silly poet boys so much.

Neil is REALLY REALLY good with kids. They just hang off him. In comparison, kids start crying at the sight of Charlie.

Todd loves chocolate, I mean who doesn’t? But Todd keeps a little bowl of Hershey kisses under his bed for when he has bad days.

Speaking of Todd, he keeps every single journal he’s ever written in. After Neil’s passing, his mother was kind enough to let Todd take a couple of Neil’s journals.

Mr. Keating is an EXCELLENT cook. like stellar. he invites the boys over for dinner sometimes and they are always asking for seconds.

Neil called Mr. Keating Dad once and panicked so much he almost started crying. Like he was stuttering all over himself until Keating gave him a hug, held him tight, and told him it was okay.

Pitts really enjoys those MGM musicals. He can’t dance to save his life but the dancing is just so fanciful and magical to him. His favorite dancer is Gene Kelly.

Charlie and Knox have something similar to "The Slap Bet" from How I Met Your Mother. Don't ask how its started. All anyone knows is that Knox has four slaps left, and Charlie has two.

Meeks was, and will always be, a vegetable hater. Specifically, broccoli. Mostly for the fact of when he was in middle school, his Mom still made him eat it, despite having braces

Neil does not like to drink, he thinks beer, whiskey, and scotch all taste nasty to him. He drinks them to look cool, though.

When Neil does drink, he’s a lightweight. And a clingy drunk.

Cameron is a whiz at Poker. The Poets all swear he counts their cards but he’s just got a really good Poker face.

Knox keeps a collection of Jane Austen novels. His favorite is Sense & Sensibility.

Occasionally at Poet meetings, Neil grabs a copy of whatever play they’re doing at Henley and makes the poets read the roles. Last time, Charlie was Juliet and Cameron was Romeo. Charlie nearly killed Cameron himself.

Neil is an excellent swimmer.

Pitts is one of those guys who enjoys really disgusting food combinations. He quite enjoys pickles and peanut butter together. With a Chocolate Milkshake.

Todd doesn’t like thunderstorms. He hides it from Neil one night and wakes Neil up while he’s crying. From then on, Neil stays up with him when it storms, reading to him or talking just to take his focus off of it.

Chris cannot sing. At all. Chris is a really vocal drunk so she’s always the first one to ask who’s up for karaoke.

Charlie is a terrible cook. He burns everything he touches. Keating has tried to teach him some lessons, but to no avail.

Knox really likes TV westerns like Gunsmoke and The Rifleman and Rawhide. He looks like a kid in a candystore everytime he watches one. Pitts is the only one who will watch them with him.

Charlie lost a bet to Todd once and Charlie ended up having to shave his eyebrows. Todd called him “Baldy” for the duration that they were gone.

Meeks does not like blood. It either makes him want to vomit or pass out. Or both, in no particular order.

One time, Charlie had to go to the hospital for a serious case of pneumonia. Out of all the poets who were distraught, Cameron hurt the most. Suddenly, their dorm was too quiet. When he came back, Cameron threatened to kill him if he ever did it again. That’s when Charlie and him created a silent truce.

Todd has a pile of unread books on his nightstand. Yeah, he’s one of those people. It’s okay, I am too.

Todd has a dog at home named Lucky. Lucky is his pride and joy. He’s a Jack Russell Terrier.

The Poets once tried to Parent Trap Keating with their school librarian. It worked out for a few months.

[zombie-jed]

Finally I got more of these

@sharpth1ng

[miku-meeku]

ight april fools is over fr now

back to whitneyposting

i have a feeling something is watching me tho-

[lunarharp]

thingies

[dazeddoodles]

While i love the Eda in heat discorse that’s going on, I also love the idea of Eda being the wild witch in the streets, while Raine is the wild witch in the sheets.

(runs away) UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN!!!

Raine uses those whistling and instrument-playing skills on Eda then acts all shy and humble about it afterward as if they didn't just release the Owl Lady's waterfall

[mrsaltieri-real]

Good Boy, Meeks (Mickey Altieri X Randy Meeks)

Words: 2.8k

Warning/s: language, smut, slight dom/sub dynamic, handjobs, blowjob, teasing, cum eating, cum play, filming/sex tape, hair pulling, Randy’s a nervous wreck, Mickey’s a teasing ass, implied stalking, frenemies to fuck buddies.

A/N: SO this is my first fic that is two canon characters. No reader insert, no OC. Just Mickey and Randy. The Film Bro’s™️. This was ridiculously fun to write, I’m definitely going to do stuff like this more often. I love them so much. Thank you @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing! You’re such a massive help dude!

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Mickey had always found Randy sweet.

In a lot of ways, they were the same. Film geeks with an unfiltered passion for cinema and the art surrounding it, constantly looking for a deeper meaning, both there and in real life. Then again, they were more different than similar.

Randy was a small town boy still reeling from the series of murders that rocked him a year back. He never showed it, but he lived in a constant state of unease, glancing over his shoulder and never letting anybody but Sidney in. Even then, he couldn’t talk to her about this stuff. She was healing, getting better. He was happy for her, but when she began dating Derek, he realized that he truly was all alone.

Mickey, on the other hand, was from the city. Eager, outgoing, confident. He wasn’t scared about people finding him arrogant or full of himself, he lived his life with no regrets. He was being bankrolled through college by Billy Loomis’ mother to help her finish the job he and Stu Macher couldn’t. Mickey was violent, in more ways than the obvious. His ambition made him all the more magnetic, especially to Randy.

They had a fun frenemy vibe going for a while, though they both knew it was more affectionate than anything. Mickey liked Randy, he thought he was simply adorable. Randy liked Mickey, he enjoyed arguing with him even though most of the time he knew he was just saying opposing views on cinema to get a rise out of him, like when he’d sat in front of him and blatantly said that Superman 2 was better than Superman 1. Randy could see the amusement in his eyes as he argued back, but decided to roll with it.

Anything to stretch out the conversation.

Randy wasn’t gay. He knew he wasn’t gay, he’d been in love with Sidney since before he even knew what love was. But sometimes, just sometimes, he’d glance over at Mickey in class or in the cafeteria, watch his head tip back as he laughed, the dimples in his cheeks. His eyes would drift to his strong, muscular arms, watch his huge hands run through his hair or drum against his thigh, and it was almost impossible to look away.

But no, he wasn’t gay, he wasn’t bi, he was straight. Right?

“Randy!” Fingers snapped in front of Randy’s face, and he blinked, shaking his head before his blue eyes tentatively met light brown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine, why?” Randy cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat and looking down at his paper. He and Mickey had been paired for a project on cinematography in horror, and it bugged Randy that the moment their names were spoken out one after the other by their professor, he’d felt his heart flutter a little.

“Well, I was talking to you and you were just… Staring at me.” Mickey’s tone was light, almost playful. He didn’t look away from Randy, his grin spreading wider as he saw the rush of colour flood to the boy's cheeks. How cute is that?

“Fuck off, Mickey, no I wasn’t.” Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “Stop fucking around, what were you saying?”

“C’mon, Meeks! Tell me what you were thinking about.” Mickey leaned forward in his own seat, his hand reaching out and playfully pushing Randy’s shoulder. Randy swatted at his hand, only making Mickey chuckle and hold his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay!” He shook his head, still smiling as he grabbed his camera from his desk, flipping the small flap open and holding it up. “Don’t wanna tell me? Tell the camera.”

“Mickey, I swear to God, fuck off.” Randy held up his hand, turning his head to the side and burying his face into his shoulder. “You’re such an ass, dude.”

“Aw, I know.” Mickey didn’t drop the camera. His eyes were fixed on Randy through the tiny screen, his head tilting just slightly to the side. His smile had changed into a somewhat affectionate half smile, watching as Randy peeked up at him. “What?”

“You like me, don’t you?”

The question took him by such surprise, Randy let out a laugh that was a little too loud, a roll of his eyes that was a little too dramatic and stood to his feet, pushing the chair back a little too hard. Mickey watched the ordeal with an amused expression and a cocked brow, the camera still focused on Randy, “I think you’re a dick.”

“And I think that you think I’m blind and stupid.” Mickey retorted, finally looking up from the small screen, his eyes settling and Randy’s awkward stance. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t do that.”

Randy looked away, as he says, “I don’t like you. Not like that.”

Mickey presses, “Like what?”

“Like- Oh, shut up.” Randy muttered, beginning to walk toward Mickey’s bathroom.

Before he could get past him, Mickey’s large hand that Randy had so often admired shot out, wrapping around his forearm easily and holding him next to him.

“Don’t make it weird, Meeks. We can fuck if that’s what you want.”

Mickey said it so matter-of-factly it took Randy a little by surprise, his eyes shooting to Mickey, who still gripped the camera in his other hand, the band around his wrist and his arm resting beside him.

“But you’re not…” Randy’s voice trailed off and Mickey let out another laugh.

There is that infuriatingly dazzling smile as he asked, “I’m not what? Gay?”

Randy stumbles over his words as he responds, “I mean… Yeah. I’ve seen you with girls and stuff.”

“Yeah, so? What, you're a film major and think people can’t branch out a little?”

Randy frowned, this isn’t as simple as making a movie in a different genre, at least not to Randy. His eyes darting from Mickey’s hand wrapped around his arm and to his face. He couldn’t deny, when Mickey touched him, he felt an uncomfortably strong wave of arousal flow through his body and stab him straight in the stomach.

Fuck, he hated that Mickey made him feel this way. Fucking Mickey Altieri of all people. It was no surprise really, though. Randy had seen first hand, he could pretty much fuck anybody he wanted. He was outrageously attractive, magnetic and just downright charming. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to him, and had been for a pathetic amount of time. And now, here he was, telling him he wanted him.

Randy didn’t move, caught in a hesitating limbo, so Mickey helped him, tugging on his arm and pulling him in front of him.

He had no idea what he was doing. He’d thought about this, this moment more times than he cared to admit whilst he was fisting his cock in the shower, thinking of Mickey. His hands, his arms, his smile, his cock, and more often than not, his lips. He was always filled with guilt after, wondering how Mickey would feel if he knew that Randy touched himself to thoughts of him on his knees with Mickey in his mouth.

This was fucking unbearable.

Mickey’s brown eyes were fixed on Randy’s torn expression, watching the vast array of emotions pass over his face. Suddenly, it wasn’t so amusing.

“Nod if you want me.” Mickey said, his voice unnaturally soft and tender.

Randy’s final thought was simple.

Fuck it.

He nodded his head, eyes, watching as Mickey released his arm and gently palmed over himself. Randy hadn’t noticed before that he was already half hard. Did he know? This entire time that Randy wanted him this much? Did he want it as long as he did, too?

Mickey didn’t speak, but he stood to his feet, placing the still rolling camera down on his desk, the lenses facing them, a light smile on his lips as he leaned forward, his hand moving from his own aching bulge in favour of Randy’s. The two of them were wearing sweatpants, and Mickey smiled in satisfaction at how fucking hard Randy was for him. He could feel his heat, feel the throbbing before he even made contact.

Mickey’s other hand cradled Randy’s flushed cheek, finding it sweet how panicked Randy looked, as if he was afraid this was all some big joke to his expense. But this wasn’t, Mickey wanted Randy, had done since the first day the little geek challenged him in film class.

Randy found that focusing on the beauty spot just beside Mickey’s eyes calmed him down slightly, humanizing the other boy a little more.

Mickey wasn’t going to kiss Randy first, however. He felt like that was something Randy had to do, and it didn’t take him anywhere near as long as he expected.

The minute Mickey’s head ghosted over him, Randy bit the bullet, closing the space and pressing his lips against Mickey’s with a passion that took Mickey by surprise. Randy let out a shaking moan into his mouth, pushing himself greedily against Mickey’s hand in desperate need for friction, to which the other boy eagerly obliged, his hand moving to frail his fingers down Randy’s happy trail and slipping smoothly into Randy’s sweats and boxers, eagerly kissing him back as he did. Mickey tasted like mint, his lips were unbearably soft and something about them seemed like home, the rough feeling of Mickey’s stubble scratched against Randy’s face, so satisfying and just how he dreamed it would.

The moment Randy felt Mickey’s well worked hand wrap around his cock, he was worried he was going to cum then and there. His hips thrust a little as he gasped into Mickey’s mouth, feeling him smile against him as he did. Randy’s hands were fast and eager, but he was stopped sharply by Mickey, who pulled back, shaking his head.

“Oh, God I- I’m sorry, fuck, I-“

Randy began rambling, his face flushing a deep red. Mickey simply rolled his eyes, bending down to pull Randy’s sweats and boxers down before pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. “Shut up, I thought it would be easier this way, no?”

This was the first time Randy had seen Mickey shirtless. He momentarily marvelled at the hairs on his chest, his toned stomach, and swallowed thickly.

Before Randy could reply, Mickey kissed him, deeper and with more vigour than last time. Randy’s leaking cock pressed between both of their stomachs. Mickey’s hands gripped Randy’s hips, pulling him even closer to him and forcing him to grind against him before he pressed him firmly up against the wall, his lips beginning to drift from Randy’s lips, to his jaw, to his throat.

“F-fuck.” Randy’s moan was unsteady, his hands unconsciously moving to knot in his thick dark hair, his hips beginning to grind against him by themselves. The friction felt incredible, but what felt even better was Mickey’s hand beginning to slowly pump Randy’s cock as he kissed his neck, the sensation making goosebumps rise on his skin.

Mickey used Randy’s pre-cum as lube as he allowed the boy to messily thrust against his hand, his simpering whimpers and moans fucking music to his ears.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of you like this, Meeks.” Mickey breathed into Randy’s ear, twisting his hand expertly and relishing in the gentle whines flooding out from Randy’s lips. “A leaking fucking mess just for me.”

“Just for you.” Randy echoed Mickey’s words, his hands gripping his hair even tighter as his pace began to steadily increase.

The feeling of his rough hand gliding up and down his shaft, his messy cock aching and throbbing, it was nothing like he’d had before. His first and only time with Karen Kolcheck back in Woodsboro seemed pretty much laughable compared to how Mickey was making him feel right now with just his hand. Randy knew he was close, his balls were aching, and he could feel himself ready to unload all over Mickey’s stomach, but he didn’t want to. He knew that once he did, it would be over.

Fuck, he didn’t want this to be over.

“You gonna cum for me, Randy?” Mickey asked. Randy let out a soft whine, flinching in effort to avoid doing just that.

“N-no.” He groaned out, the grip on Mickey’s hair tightening.

Mickey let out a breathy laugh, his hand slowing to a gentle pump. “Why not?” He asked.

Randy didn’t answer, his head falling forward, so his forehead pressed against Mickey’s shoulder.

Mickey wasn’t having that. He pulled his hand away from Randy’s sloppy cock, knocking his arms out of the way so he could pull Randy’s head back before gripping his chin between his long fingers.

“Why not?” He asked again, his tone a little harder.

“Because I don’t want it to be done.” Randy blurted out. He felt Mickey cock twitch against his from the confines of his sweats and briefs and felt an overwhelming desire to touch him too. Mickey looked at the hungry expression on Randy’s face and smiled affectionately, releasing Randy’s jaw and sliding his hand into his hair.

“Okay, on your knees then.”

Before the words were completely out of Mickey’s mouth, Randy was on his knees, pulling down Mickey’s remaining clothes.

Randy had only seen his own dick and dicks in porn. No pornstar cock would ever compare to Mickey’s. The only word that came to mind was mouthwatering.

After Mickey spent a little time talking Randy through it, Randy took him greedily into his mouth, moaning at how delicious he tasted, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Fuckkkkk.” Mickey groaned, his head tipping back and one hand still resting on the top of his head. He glanced at the camera, picking it up and focusing it down on the adorable sight before him; Randy greedily sucking his cock as if his life fucking depended on it. Randy made a sound of disapproval at the sight of the camera, but Mickey shook his head. “Thought you might want to watch this back when you fuck yourself thinking about me.”

A brief thought of how the fuck does he know I do that? Crossed his mind for the briefest of moments before he forgot all about it, focusing on the feeling of Mickey’s thick, heavy cock in his mouth. He bobbed his head obediently, feeling Mickey begin to thrust harder, pushing his way down Randy’s throat.

“Yeah, good boy. Look up into the camera with my cock in your mouth, Meeks.” Mickey instructed, voice heavy and dripping with arousal. Randy did just that, feeling Mickey begin to twitch in his mouth as soon as he did. “Mm. You wanna get off?” He asked, smiling at Randy’s muffled yes. “Go on.”

Randy quickly took his own sensitive cock into his hand, realizing quickly his pre-cum had dropped onto Mickey’s hardwood floor. Mickey angled the camera, zooming in on the sight and watching it intently, his hips snapping against Randy’s face urgently.

“Fuck, I’m close.” Mickey grunted, halting his movement. Randy’s nose pressed against Mickey’s skin for a moment, beginning to splutter slightly as Mickey began to release hot ribbons of white down his throat, before pulling back to fill up Randy’s mouth.

The delicious taste, along with Mickey’s gorgeous expression, his head back and his chest heaving as he came, sent Randy into a convulsing mess, cumming all over his own hand, stomach and the ground beneath him. Mickey pulled out of his mouth quickly, relishing in the sound of Randy’s gasping moans as he finished.

It was silent between them for a moment, Randy trembling on his knees, not looking Mickey in the eyes. Mickey still had the camera rolling, looking fondly into the small window of it, before he glanced down at Randy pointedly.

“You made a mess, Meeks.”

Randy let out a sigh, relieved at the broken silence, before he asked, “What?”

Mickey nodded down beneath him at the cum staining the floor. Randy blushed, moving to shakily to stand up, only to be stopped by Mickey’s large, grounding hand.

“Clean it up.”

“I- I was going to. Was gonna get some paper towels and-“

“No, Randy.” Mickey cut him off, the cheeky smile back on his face as he knelt down in front of him. Mickey’s finger dipped into the impressive pool of white, before he raised it to his own mouth and licked it. Randy watched intently, his once softened cock twitching at the sight. Fuck.

“On your hands and knees-“ Mickey stopped, moving the camera and angling it down at the mess. “And clean. It. Up.”

Randy stared at Mickey for a moment, before nodding his head, and doing exactly what he was told.

He got on his hands and knees, dipping his head down, and began to lap up his own cum from the hardwood floor. Mickey watched through the camera, teeth sinking into his bottom lip at the sight.

“Good boy, Meeks.”

[ortegascream]

Made this edit yesterday in honour of @psychofreakforc and posting it on here because I’m low-key kinda obsessed with it?

[applebyraven]

new OUR OURS update!

Chapter 8: Something for something.

One of those 'carpe diem' situations, in which Neil and Todd exchange honesty for honesty and the poets host their first house party.

[todayisafridaynight]

i cant explain it but daigo being subtitled to just be like 'you're making me look like i have no balls' feels so illegal and wrong. hilarious but something's off

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

Maybe I like Jovier because Javier is written as himself and not some ooc perfect, innocent, articulated version of himself that Javier x reader uses.

Maybe I just want to read / look at art of Javier and John being silly men who both kind of suck at flirting so they don’t flirt and instead show their love by just co-existing together and talking and laughing and drinking and looking out for each other ((and being doomed by the narrative)).

[magicalgirlfr]