#nawt edited

[highpatia]

jealous | mortal kombat 1

johnny cage/reader — fluff, bodyguard!au

content. gn!r, r wears a suit 👀, a little suggestive? jealously duh, television references, reader is a lil delusional for a bit #mecore

author’s note. ofcourse i had to write a fic for my sassy man first 🤞🏻think I used the word ‘quickly’ too much 🤔 (2.262k)

You must’ve looked like a great fool stood there. Shoulders broad and hunched like an anticipating soldier ready for battle. If someone looked close enough they probably could envision the leaking malachite-like muck oozing from your very build— jealousy is a green-eyed monster as one would say.

From where you stand firmly, arms parallel to the unnoticeably grimy wall of this supposed “nationally-favoured” nightclub where apparently the biggest stars come to mingle and drink their woes away— you can’t help but stare. The man of the hour, Johnny Cage, surrounded by sleazy greeds searching for a pay rise and eager half-dressed bawds sucking up to him for whatever. You can’t help but stare as he so easily talks off any man or woman ready to use him for all he has, you can’t help but feel ill as they practically cling to him like leaches but you force yourself to remember that this your job to watch him keep him safe, from a distance of course.

The conversations don’t quite reach you from where you are but the loud laughter and jestering keeps your gaze suspicious. The relaxed posture and half buttoned up dress shirt prove to you that he’s relaxed. Coy smiles and a flirty tone of voice, you’d be inclined to think that his eyes are supporting a similar look if they weren’t disguised by his silvered specs prove that he may just enjoy this type of attention.

An intrusive feeling brews deep within your gut. It boils with blood-flavoured envy and lathers itself with desire. Unfamiliar thoughts bubble, its taste alike to sour grapes. It burns your chest and you can help but want to heave them back out again before consumption. But there is something about it. You know deep down that if you keep chewing, there is an addictive sweetness to the centre.

It isn’t until you feel a hand laid upon your left shoulder do you realise that perhaps you appear too zealous in your nature of guardianship. You look to the culprit of the interference and are greeted with a distantly familiar face, the club's bartender. Regardless of the recognition you can’t seem to put a name to the face, Lloyd, Moe? Another thing foggy in your mind as you only have one focus. He hands you a glass. It’s filled about halfway with an amber shaded liquid inside, a near perfect shaped ice sphere in the centre. You look at him ungratified.

“I can’t drink on the job. You know that right?”

He smiles. Perhaps you’d consider it warm if you weren’t so tense. The bartender is a common face you see when visiting the club, you’d be accustomed to believe that he’s the only one that works here full-time.

“It wouldn’t kill you to relax for a moment dear”

He jests, if it was a gentleman any younger than him you would’ve struck him right in the middle of his wrinkled nose.

“But it might kill him” you respond swiftly, lacking in emotion as you still hold onto the glass

“Gods above, he’s one of the best martial artists this world has ever known. If anyone tried it, he’d be the first to know.”

“Better safe than sorry, or fired.”

He laughs silently at your quip, greying hair brushing over his forehead as he turns his head to face the toast of the town, or globe to be literal.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you're jealous” He ponders, you can’t see his face fully anymore but you can picture the ever-growing smirk. Pulling a stunned choke of breath from you.

“Shouldn’t you be tending to your bar, old man? I’m in no need of banter as I work.. and no, it’s not jealousy, you are mistaken, old man.”

The rapid response of foul words and slight shake to your tone practically prove the question true. You look to him desperately as if to convince him false of lies— but he doesn’t face you again, but it still feels as if he’s laughing right into yours. The bartender then gives you a subtle nod before stepping past you and down the small set of stairs, then you are left to your running thoughts again. As if transfixed by your own perspective, you bring the glass up to your lips and take a swig of the alcohol inside.

Like fighting fire with fire, liquor burns just right in your gullet. Its wood-like essence reminds you of a toasty warmth only one could bring, no matter how much denial you face.

Looking over to face the superstar again you notice that his head is turned to face in your general direction, the almost obnoxious smile that was plastered on his face only moments ago was now replaced by a near flirty grin. Shaded glasses still rested against his eyes, you can’t help but feel he was looking right at you. As your heart begins to race, you fidget around. You sit up abit more from your previously slouched position and grapple onto your cuffed sleeve, playing with the stray thread that had become unwoven. As if he could see right through you, his smile turns more cheshire, like he had just caught you in the act. You ignore him diligently— or instead the ever growing fluster in your cheeks, instead focusing on the buttons of your cuffed shirt.

It isn’t until you hear the saddened whines of harlots and hurried murmurs of desperate businessmen do you realise that he is walking straight towards you.

“Alright! Drinking on the job? That’s not like you at all Costner”

You're quick to stammer out reason but he is quicker to shut it down with a wave of his hand, the brass ring that he wears shines under the dingy lights.

“I don’t know about you but I am beat! You ready to go home or do you request another beverage?”

Like most often his tone is joking, but you can’t help the flush of your cheeks and the sputtering of breath before giving up and just nodding your head in agreement, it’s probably just from the alcohol you think. He laughs and says nothing as he plucks the old-fashioned from your clammy hands before knocking back the rest of the drink himself. After he finishes the drink, your drink, he leans down towards you.

“Let’s get outta here yeah?” He doesn’t even give you time to respond before he turns around and guides you out the front entrance. Comparable to a lost puppy, you follow posthaste.

Back at the mansion you begin to feel more at ease, like a metaphorical weight had been lifted from your shoulders. The mansion was somewhat familiar to you as you’d only been in it a few times, but it still brings a sense of security to you.

There is an almost proud lick of pride that swells in your chest as you lounge on the ruby shaded sofa in the dimmed living room, dress tie slightly loosened.

Johnny pads back into the living room with two liquor-filled glasses in his hand, identical to the one the both of you shared in the club. He hands one to you before sitting down next to you.

He groans before rolling his neck around, you can't seem to lie to yourself and think that it doesn’t do anything to you. As you look at him you notice that his sunglasses are no longer on his face and silk dress shirt seems to be unbuttoned even more that what it was before. You gulp silently before taking a small sip of your drink.

He leans back while looking up at the roof, you replicate the actions and do the same. Ripples of the pool water dance on the roof, matched with golden hues of the sunset calm your prior anxieties as you sink further back into the couch. It’s quiet for a few minutes, occasional clinking of melting ice from your glasses.

After another few silent moments, Johnny huffs before sitting back up, you automatically do the same as if transfixed by his actions. He smirks again before turning to face you.

“You wanna go swimming?”

You freeze. Your boss, the man that you have been protecting from the past several months, has just asked you to practically get naked with him.

“I- what?!” You splutter, if he couldn't tell you were nervous before, he definitely can now.

“Yeah! Come on, it'll be fun, I never get to use this pool anymore.”

That’s a dirty lie, every time you’ve been here he’s either just gotten out of the pool or “planning” to get in. You try to work up the courage to speak but all words are stuck in your throat as he places his glass on the coffee table before standing up and further unbuttoning his shirt.

It feels as if your heart was about to beat out of your very chest as you watch Johnny strip down from the corner of your eye. He stops at his underwear but you still feel completely perverted as you do so, but also can’t help but feel that’s exactly what he wants you to feel. As he walks over to the pool he looks at you from over his shoulder and cheekily laughs at your avoidance to look at him. You can hear the splashing of the water as he walks down the shallow steps before jumping in the rest of the way.

Whilst searching for excuses, your brain is too busy battling itself for any reason to run straight out the front door and never face this man again, or just giving up and joining him right now.

Your thoughts are hastily stopped when he hums to catch your narrowed attention. You turn slowly to see him as he moves around in the water. Sun kissed skin now painted with small water droplets, the sunset causes rays of orange and yellow to shine on his muscular chest. He looks at you expectedly, eyes shining with a look you’ve never really seen before. Maybe the alcohol really has gotten to you because you're quick to scoff jokingly before standing up and begin to leisurely take your clothes off. He laughs pridefully as if he was in a movie roll, like a knight after he has just won a great battle. He turns towards the other edge of the pool before leaning out over the railing, not before catching a quick glance at you.

As you swim over to him, you can’t help but admire his physique. Back taut with defined muscles like one of those ancient statues of gods that you’d see in museums. The way the singular droplets of water run down his spine, you can’t help but feel jealous— for all the right reasons.

“What happened earlier, at the nightclub?” He questions as you move to lean over the edge with him.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?”

He scoffs and turns around so that his back is leaning up against the railing. “No. Nothing happened, I mean, you were looking all mad when we were there.”

“Oh” you pause, clearing your throat “I was just thinking I guess, about the job” you try to joke for once but it seems as if he’s not amused.

“You think about the job, while on the job?”

“Well, no. I was just thinking about what I normally think about, like scouting out the exits, seeing what kind of people are around—”

“Hey.” He interrupts, shortly.

“I- I don’t know? It was when you were sitting there with all those people, they cling to you like leeches, like those girls? They were practically throwing themselves at you and.. it was just embarrassing” You try to laugh off your own words but it’s cut pretty short.

He’s silent again. Honestly, it’s the quietest you’ve ever seen him. A short moment goes by before he starts chuckling to himself. You sat there confused as he does so.

“Were you- were you jealous?” He asks, the infamous smirk plastered back on his face.

“What? No, I wasn’t jealous” you laugh to yourself as you turn around as well.

He’s quick to move again but this time he corners you in, trapping you between the edge of the pool and himself. Now you are sure he can hear your heart pounding against your chest.

“Come on tell me the truth” he urges

You can’t seem to say anything as he slides his hands along the bannister of the pool, edging very close to the middle of your bare shoulders. He blinks slowly, eyes peering into yours almost sensually before quickly glancing at your lips. You can’t seem to find any palpable lies to convince him, or yourself.

The tension in the air is suffocating, it’s left you speechless.

There is a hesitation when he looks down to your lips and then back to your eyes, you read it almost instantly. The wavering is quickly dismissed as you both are instantaneous to close the distance between you. His mouth crashing into yours in a heated kiss. One of his hands flies off the railing and onto your waist, somehow pulling you closer to him. Your shock is unrestrained immediately as you wrap your hands around his neck. The kiss is messy, teeth clattering against each other, desperate as you both are. You have to pull away first, shallow breaths are forced out in urgency. For a moment, that’s all you do, just breathe.

“Yeah. Maybe I was a bit jealous.”

[hayden-christensen]

It all started with a farmboy, a scoundrel, a princess, and a dark lord...

HAPPY STAR WARS DAY STAR WARS WEEK 2024 DAY 6: MAY THE 4TH BE WITH YOU

[crybaby-bkg]

Bakugou has never cared much about whether or not his partner is experienced, or less experienced. Never had much of a kink or fetish when it came down to how much sexual experience someone had, but—there’s just something about you. You with your unsure lip biting and lowered eyes, your twisting hands and nervous little chuckles.

“I don’t really know how to kiss,” you share with him, a secret, a whisper passed from your hovering mouth to his own. It’s been an odd some amount of dates you two have been on by now, and this time you went back to his apartment afterwards. You sit on your knees beside him on his too big couch, his legs facing you, arm around your waist, yours around his shoulders.

“Really?” Bakugou asks, doesn’t mean to sound as teasing as he does, as breathless. But, he’s surprised more than anything—you, as sinfully seductive as you are, don’t know how to kiss someone? He leans back to take you all in, a tiny little smile lilting the corners of his mouth.

“No, not really,” you murmur, running a hand through the hair on his nape, eyes bouncing all over his face, yet avoiding his eyes. “Will you teach me?” You ask, and who is Bakugou if not a weak man?

So he shows you the proper way to kiss somebody, a hands on demonstration. He pulls you in real close, guides your head to tilt to the right, purse your lips like this, run your tongue over his like that. Now suck on it, let out all the pretty sounds if it feels good, kiss him just like that. And before you know it, you’re a pro.

The next time you see him, you ask him the proper way to give someone a hickey. I don’t wanna give you a blood clot, you had laughed, sitting on his lap this time. And Bakugou, ever the great teacher that he is, shows you how. Demonstrating on your neck, your collarbone, your tummy, your inner thigh, the curve of your ass. You don’t give him nearly as many hickeys as he gives you, but the big purpled one sitting over his pulse point, he wears proudly until it fades. And after that, he’s asking for another, and another.

And after a few months into your relationship, do things finally start getting real hot and heavy. He sits at the island in his place, tired, arms folded, back leaning against the island and his head lolled over on his shoulders. He’s surprised when you sink to your knees in front of him, all doe eyed and incubus smile, hands resting on his thighs.

“Can you show me how?” You don’t even have to specify what you’re talking about, but you eye the way his cock already jumps to attention under his shorts. If this were anyone else, he’d bat them away and tell them that he didn’t feel like playing teacher. But with you—he’d gladly show you any and everything your heart has ever yearned to know.

“Breathe through your nose, baby.” He instructs you, hand gathering your hair in his fists. Your mouth stretches wide around his cock, eyes watering, but you push through it all. He tells you to wrap your lips around your teeth, to swallow whenever his tip brushes the back of your throat. Shows you how to stroke whatever you can’t reach, rub his balls in your palm whenever he starts getting close.

He doesn’t have to teach you how to swallow.

When you ride Bakugou for the first time, you don’t even have to ask for instructions. Just give him that look, all pouty and pitiful, hands on his chest as you grind against his cock resting against your lower belly. Barely any words are spoken as he guides you, lifts your hips, teases his tip against your hole, stomach fluttering in anticipation.

After that, you feel like a pro when it comes to doing anything with Bakugou. But, he doesn’t mind playing teacher whenever you need a little bit of guidance.

[watchingwisteria]

im so sorry i get it now i really do, the gay angels have me shaking screaming crying at all hours of the day and night, they mean everything to me i am literally thinking about them all the time and what it would mean to love someone steadily and silently through eternity, what it would mean to love across the lines of a divine war of supposed good and evil, what it would mean to carve out a space for oneself and ones lover in no man’s land, in the grey and moral ambiguity when you were created to be black and white without blemish. god i love them so much i just

[mattodore]

somehow managed to make matthias look even more bitchy

[jentlemahae]

MARK LEE / BAGGY JEANS DANCE PRACTICE BEHIND

BONUS:

[nihilismtrcit]

late nights 

thank you @mapanou for the build 

[acidangeis]

⠀⠀✩⠀⠀ꮼ⠀⠀ AVRIL ON F1'S TWITTER RECENTLY!

[highpatia]

that dog won’t hunt | call of duty: modern warefare

simon “ghost” riley/reader — Wild West!au (1880’s) not-so-cute meet cute but also enemies to lovers 👀 maybe a part 2 MAYBE.

content. non-canon, time period correct sexism (fem!reader), alcohol, violence, bounty hunting?

author’s note. was originally gonna be a erron black fic but changed it halfway through lol (1.374k)

The whiskey burns in you the same way it would a furnace. Molten liquid kindles your gullet like a well-weathered smithy— eloquently so. Not very often would you find yourself leant over a frequented bar top, with an old fashioned sat barren in your hand. You’ve never travelled so far out past the desert, long hours on the road under the hot sun were just grovelling for a quick rest at a settlement. The small town of Armadillo was your stopping point, it was fairly empty excluding a few elderly locals— it seemed vacant of any further problems.

Pushing open the saloon doors you quickly took notice of the occupants inside. Four middle aged to senior gentlemen sat in the corner playing a calm game of poker, one man sat at the bar chatting with the bartender that was polishing a glass, a woman draped over the edge of a stairwell watching for easy game to satisfy her needs and lastly another young looking boy sat playing a gentle tune on a piano.

Sauntering up to the bartender, with only a soothing glass of whiskey in your mind— you fail to make notice of the concealed figure of another occupant in the saloon.

Flagging down the bar hand, you repeat your order to them in a gruff tone. Throat taut with hours of lacking use, you cough to clear your voice. The barkeep smirks while pouring your glass.

“You’ve been travelling long? We don’t usually get new customers here.”

Tossing over a coin as payment, you scoff humorlessly. “You don’t know the half of it, I’ve come from up north through that late storm.”

He grimaces, moustache pulling upwards as he slides the lucre towards his apron before pocketing it. You quickly down the liquor with a subtle wince before urging the bartender with another coin to refill the glass which he does so diligently, movement behind you emerges and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Quickly you tense up in case of harm of the sort but ultimately subsides as another gentleman scooches up beside you.

It’s evident that he is quite drunk as stumbles to stand up right before gesturing to the server for another drink. As the barkeep turns around to prepare the drink, you briefly look at your latest companion. It appears it’s one of the younger men that you saw earlier playing poker, his face is clearer now— and it’s not pretty. Unfortunately he takes notice of your staring and turns to face you. He blinks slowly, cat-like as if he was trying to make out your face in his head before opening his riotous mouth.

“Have we met before? Ya look familiar”

Your face stays stoical but unease builds up inside your gut. Have they got you on the lam out here too?

“No, I’m not from around here at all— I haven’t even been this far south before.” You state, technically it’s not a lie but this varmint doesn’t need to know that.

“Are ya sure? I mean.. ya look real familiar, have I bedded ya before?”

Your face contorts with disposition, of course that’s where his mind goes to— adequate in amour-propre means you lack dignity in others.

“No, I’m not in that line of work, sad to say, perhaps you're confusing me for someone else” You try to move the conversation beyond your apparent.. identity. Just as this bonehead is about to question you again, the doors of the saloon retch open. Faint creaking of the floorboards grows louder as well as metal rattling of spurs sync along with steps of another dweller. They draw closer and you unconsciously start to feel distress again.

As the other individual that was sitting quietly at the bar leaves, another sits down alongside you and your buzzing fool. The new bar-goer pulls out a revolver from a leather holster tight across his thigh before sitting, you can hear the hide crease as he does. He drops several coins on top of the bar table before speaking.

“Whiskey. Neat.” He speaks slowly, a gravelling husk-filled voice. He has an accent that is much too foreign to here. You turn slightly to see him, assess this apparent danger that is causing your heart to race.

He wears a mask that covers the lower half of his face, a Stetson hat that covers his head. Casual attire and a blackened vest with a multi-coloured bandana wrapped around his neck. Covered practically head-to-toe you wonder if he also is a distant traveller like you, but then— what if he’s followed you here? As you fight mental beasts in your head, the fool sitting next to you turns his attention to the new man at the bar.

“Why ‘ave ya got that mask on? You hidin’ from someone mister?”

You can’t help but flinch as the drunken idiot speaks, you contemplate reaching over and grabbing the gun sat atop the table and shoot him in the head, and then your own.

“No. It’s for work, protection.”

“Ah, and what is it you do for work that requires a mask and guns mister?”

The dunce snorts after his question, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.

“Casual work. Bounty hunting.”

The air goes still, you even think the young boy playing piano stops suddenly that’s how quiet it is. Instantly your throat goes dryer than it was before your drink, and you regret ever stepping in this miserable bar. You look quickly for means to escape, perhaps through this backdoor— as soon as you locate it at least. In your mindless thoughts, the man you failed to notice when walking in makes himself present by laying his grimy hand atop your already tense shoulder. He leans in over you and places a smudged piece of paper in front of you. It reads your name, and a large sum underneath, along with a poorly drawn portrait of yourself.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take this one off your hands Ghost. You understand, I'm sure.” The voice trails out behind you, the grip on your shoulder getting tighter.

As “Ghost” turns to face this new character that has found themselves at this practically now empty bar as everyone with a right sense of mind has slipped out quietly to ensure their lives, the drunkard once again opens his mouth.

“That’s where I recognised you from dolly! You’re a wanted girl you are!”

In a sense of distraction, you quickly try to stand up and make a run for it— only to run towards another man standing behind you, holding a shotgun. It appears that you were also distracted enough to not consider that these bounty hunters did not have backup of any sorts.

Stunned by your attempted escape, the second unnamed bounty hunter quickly jumps to turn around and grab you again but in time meets his demise as “Ghost” quickly grabs his revolver and fires it straight into the back of the other man’s head. The second attacker receives the same treatment as he was also caught off guard by the first gunshot.

You scream before you can think for yourself, eyes now shut tightly as blood sprayed over the already grimy walls— now fearing for your life even more.

For a beat, nothing happens. Just the two gunshots ringing out. The fool, once again is the first to break the silence by a loud guffaw of shock, of course the death of two men in front of him was enough to sober him up right. He turns to face Ghost from his seat and slaps him on the shoulder— almost proudly.

“Good on you bounty hunter, protecting those in need!”

He stands suddenly, stretches his arms up over his head in mock surrender and begins stumbling towards the front entrance. You watch in shock as he does so, this fool treating this situation as if he does it every week.

“Don’t be a git now Soap, I’ll come fetch you from the sheriff’s tomorrow morning once you sober up” Ghost says while holstering his weapon. He steps up over the fresh corpse and over to you.

“We should probably get on out of here doll, I saw the back door when I walked in.”

[elderwisp]

[endofbeginings]

2014 FIFA WORLD CUP STICKERS (f1 edition)

(2002) (2006) (2010)

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

if it will keep you from setting them off while people are trying to celebrate. ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ

... but of course. ᕙ⁠(͡⁠°⁠‿⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠ᕗ

[xsimst]

[xia0ming56]

🎵 the drugs just make me reset🎵

Hi i am in my "im gg to mash my 2 favourite things tgt n u cant stop me" phase

[didlivio]

(requested) misc vocaloid banners ++ reblog and credit if using!

includes transparents by @prosekaipng, @kumimacaronihorseii86, @okochamasensou, @plushle, @knigato, @iconsynth, @ironized, @prsk2dmv-transparents, and official transparents