#<- i have no shame anymore i am the cringe

[beevean]

Top 10 reason why Hecula is best ship, go!

Oh, but what a fortuitous coincidence :) I vaguely imply that I'd like more asks about Hecula, and lo and behold :) it's almost like you're in hell with me :)

I'm not sure I can rank them, but if you know me, you know which ones are the peak reasons I'm suffering from terminal brainrot <3

I am very weak for the narrative of a person trapped in an abusive relationship who manages to escape and learn that they deserve more. Fits Hector to a T :)

And yet Hector can't fully escape from Dracula. He's still cursed. He's forced to re-learn Devil Forging, the art taught by him from Dracula. He still lost much of his childhood and youth in Dracula's castle. He has to unlearn everything he has learned about being a weapon.

Hector is Dracula's specialest little boy and I love all the hints of how he was favored <3 because he was talented? Because he was cold and efficient like Dracula strives to be? Because he doesn't beg for love like Isaac does? Because he kinda looks like him? You decide. Point is, the mentor/protégé dynamic is very <3

But no, really, Dracula being possessive and overprotective of his precious Hector makes me swoon <3 it's both creepy and lowkey cute <3 he'd gouge the eyes of anyone who deludes themselves to be worthy of looking at Hector's splendor <3 only he can <3 because he deserves the best <3

I love to imagine that Dracula feels ownership towards Hector because he infused him with his own magic. Yes, same goes for Isaac, but... well, he's just not as good at using it :) Hector always makes Dracula proud <3 he's his very precious perfect weapon <3

Hector would care about his Lord. Dracula cherishes him like no one else does... like no one else would, because Hector only knew hatred before running to Dracula, and he welcomed him, and Hector is so grateful to his Lord and would obey him with pride <3 ... up to a certain point.

The symbolism of blood sucking meaning giving away your life, whether you want it or not. Hector threw his life away for Dracula because he needed it, or so he would feel. That's what my idea of Hector having bite scars all over his throat symbolizes. That, and a metaphorical collar he can't get rid of.

Dracula doesn't need any magical tricks to keep Hector on a leash, unlike someone else we know :) He knows his boy well enough to know what to say to him to keep him in line :) I like to think it as psychological warfare, Dracula expertly manipulating Hector, his feelings and what he craves to keep him nice and obedient vs. Hector's unbendable moral code and budding sense of pride (that I imagine that Dracula himself caused by spoiling him too much lol)

In short, I love that there is the potential for two "main" narratives. The one where Hector is groomed from youth to be as perfect and pliable as Dracula wants him to be, and while at first he naively trusts his Lord because he has zero world experience and just wants to be loved, he slowly but surely takes a stand and confirms his worth as a human being. Or the one where there are mutual, genuine feelings between the two - the relationship can never be truly healthy due to the massive power imbalance (which is a big 🥰 for me), but maybe, before Dracula went completely insane, there was a window of time where the two were fond of each other, Hector of his Lord who is always so kind to him, and treasures him, and gave him a reason to live, and Dracula of his strong knight who does his will and is so intelligent and devoted and whose valor may remind him of Leon.

Size difference :P Hector is very pickable in CoD, he gets picked up by normal enemies like the Red Ogre and the Harpies and also by Isaac (which is pretty chad ngl), but ofc, he looks especially small when Drac sips from him :)

I will spam my screenshots until people understand my Vision 😤

There was no need to do this, Drac. No need at all. You just missed you boy. Understandable, but really. yes this does things to my brain

and remember guys: Hecula canon <3

#hecula #thanks for allowing me to gush <3 #i love the them and the more people i drag into my hell the better #but even if it's just the... 4 of us? #it's okay because i have fun <3 #castlevania #<- i have no shame anymore i am the cringe

[alexjcrowley]

Btw not enough cryptid lover in the f1 fandom. What do you mean none of you has an au in which they're all different monsters.

#f1 fandom may be silly but it still takes itseld too seriously I fear #silly season this silly season that WHERE are my court mandated f1 oc #people don't even create their own character to pretend to be an actual part of their favourite obsession anymore #was it cringe? maybe BUT WHAT IS IT HOME? WHAT IS IT LOVE???? #okay sure you have the rpf and you have the thirsty edits and you have web weaving #but do you have passion???? do you have courage?????????? do you have 'here's every f1 driver favourite doctor from doctor who'???????? #'what had Doctor Who got to do with thi-' NOTHING THAT'S THE BEAUTY IN IT #You don't have people sneaking in the vents. If you know you know. #I have never been in a sport fandom who am I meant to discuss Divine Comedy parallels and Mean Girls au with #I do not care if it cringe I DO NOT CARE. We're on Tumblr. If you are only interested in expressing takes you believe to be correct #and argue about them with other people that's what twitter is for #not a single one of you has created a damn f1 x Herbie: Fully Loaded post #what are you even doing here #f1 #formula 1 #missing the golden age of boundless cringe #and if you think 'that's so embarrassing I would never do that' GERHARD BERGER DID NOT REPLACE THE PASSPORT PICTURE OF AYRTON SENNA #WITH A PHOTO OF COCK AND BALLS FOR YOU TO CRINGE AT F1 X POKEMON CROSSOVERS #shame has never been a part of the history of this sport

[thefleshyougoveggie]

cishets (and some queer ppl too…) think it’s an insult to say “you seem like you had a steven universe phase” and it’s like??? yes i did???

and i honestly don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

oh i’m so sorry for liking a cartoon with queer characters and positive messages

🙄🙄🙄

#one of my friends has done this several times #and every time i’m like #😊yeah i did😊 #i mean he definitely does it in a joking way bc that’s the type of friendship we have but still lol #i don’t have any shame about it and idk why ppl seem to think i should? #i honestly don’t care if ppl think it’s cringe #a lot of things i do and am interested it could definitely be seen as cringe and honestly it’s gotten to the point where i don’t really care #cuz like??? #cringe culture is dead #and we should just let ppl enjoy things tbh #steven universe isn’t really my thing anymore but i have no shame in the fact that it used to be #steven universe #atlas the thinker #personal

[are-we-really-doing-this]

Jdevil kinda reminds me of a discord mod

Well, he looks crusty enough. And he’s a pervert. And he drinks monster energy. And he probably doesn’t wash his ass. I could go on.

Still my favorite gross guy of all time tho <3

#you gotta remember I love him BECAUSE he’s disgusting not in spite of it #there is nothing you can say to diss this man because he’s already pantsing himself by existing #and I love that about him #but that’s just me #I mean peep the PFP #y’all know how I feel about this man #definitely and WHOLEHEARTEDLY accepting that he would call you kitten in the most rancid demon voice #and I’m eating that shit up you have no idea #I am immune to cringe culture I’ve already been there I have no shame anymore #jonathan davis #jdevil #korn #nu metal #edm #dubstep #my anonz #monsterposting

[piplupod]

really hate having to be quiet about disorders that affect every aspect of my life. really wish ppl would be normal about it and also understand it better. wish i was not terrified of ppl finding out about my osdd irl but RIP me i guess, the autism is scary enough but I don't have the energy to hide that one anymore or make up excuses to explain away whatever symptoms i wasnt able to quell. the autism already puts me in enough danger (conservative small town) but i think the osdd would get me in physical danger if ppl found out fnfkfl

its just hard bc we are so desperately lonely but we cant tell ppl abt it and its honestly hard to be friends w ppl now if they dont know abt it. so i do not get to make friends in town now and all chances of having ppl irl to hang out with is down the drain.

#i just want to not have to hide anymore #im so tired of it fjfkfl #i wish we could just act in a way that felt right and dress in fun ways outside of the house and just. exist without fear. #idk whats going on lately fjdksl the new splits have jostled brain around a lot #and i am feeling very alone and isolated the past couple days (...weeks.) i think #trying also to adjust to new brain feelings and shifts but idk. its a lot. im tired #and very very unwell fhfkdl but i just keep ignoring it and pretending things are alright and hoping i can feel okay soon #anyways hi there are daycare attendants in the brain. we have a sun and moon now apparently #this is me being open in a way that frightens me but i want to be able to be a bit more open here to try to work on some shit within myself #shame and whatnot fjdksl embracing the ''cringe'' of simply existing with a trauma-warped brain #sunny has a sideblog btw its very fun! its @sunnysplayground #pippen needs 2nd breakfast

[fairy-flight]

yeah i like solavellan a lot. sue me. not going to apologize for it but i am sorry for the amount of art i'm about to reblog

#getting a little too real down here but i was shamed and ridiculed so intensely by The Evil One for liking solavellan and by extension solas #that i got so ashamed of having feelings about fictional characters and i hid what i liked for so long because i was legitimately afraid #but no more. fuck you. i'm not ashamed of liking certain characters or shows or anything anymore just cause someone says i should be #i am harming absolutely no one by liking a video game character #but also i don't care if i look “cringe” anymore #if you don't like a thing i like sorry but who cares! you don't have to berate me over it! this is a a video game! #i don't want to hear it and i don't care if someone else doesn't like me over fictional characters

[poguemunson]

The Morning After

Eddie Munson x Reader (1.3k)

note: i haven’t written anything for months so i am a little rusty so please take it easy on me. if you have any requests please send them my way!

buy me a kofi masterlist

Summary: You try to sneak out the morning after sleeping with your best friend, Eddie because you think he will regret it.

Warnings: suggestive themes (mentions of sex), slight angst, insecure!reader, mentions of alcohol, misunderstanding

******

This is not your room.

This is not your bed.

That is, however, your clothes littered on the floor.

That is your best friend, sleeping next to you, equally as naked as you are.

You are never drinking again.

Running a hand through your hair, you begin to curse yourself. You’re trying to remember the events that took place the last night, pieces of memories coming together hazily.

You had turned up to Eddie’s trailer, upset and in need of comfort and reassurance. You had yet another failed date and you were feeling like shit about yourself. When you thought about the last time you genuinely felt happy, of course, your best friend of seven years was the first person to come to mind.

What you didn’t plan on was the pair of you getting wasted and hooking up.

Sure, the reason the dates were failing was that you were head over heels for your best friend. But your drunk brain decided to go for the kiss and let fate take over the rest.

“Fuck, fuck,” You murmured to yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was wake Eddie up with your panic.

Did Eddie just feel sorry for you? Did he just feel obligated to go through with something with you because he believed you couldn’t handle another failed experience with a boy?

That had to be it.

During the seven years of friendship, Eddie had never shown any interest that wasn’t platonic. He was flirty but that was just Eddie, right?

You had to get out of there.

You quickly dressed as quietly as you could. The last thing you wanted was to face Eddie. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing the look of regret etched onto his face.

Eddie would never actively go for someone like you. You’re his best friend. The one stable thing, apart from Uncle Wayne, that he had in his life and you had screwed that up for him.

You spared a glance at Eddie. He was still seemingly asleep. He looked peaceful, you could’ve sworn there was a slight smile on his lips. You tried your hardest to try to remember him this way.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t want to see you anymore after this. Would he do that?

You couldn’t begin to think about it. You pushed yourself out of the room, sending a thank you to whoever upstairs made sure that this event happened the day Uncle Wayne wasn’t home from the night shift yet.

Stepping out of the trailer, you closed the door as quietly as you could. You cringed when it made a loud squeak.

“Please don’t wake up,” You whispered. You would cross your fingers if your hands weren’t shaking so badly.

You waited a minute to see if you could hear any movement in the trailer, trying to determine whether to make a run for it or not. Once you were sure the coast was clear, you turned to leave, freezing when you caught the eyes of one of Eddie’s neighbours.

Maxine. You recognised her as one of Dustin’s friends. You had seen her around him a few times in town.

You put your hand up in an awkward wave to which she raised an eyebrow at you in reply before she made her way into her trailer. You were just praying she didn’t decide to call up Dustin to let him know that she had witnessed his babysitter doing the walk of shame.

Guess today wasn’t your day.

You stopped in your tracks once you felt the cold water drop land on your arm.

Yeah. Today wasn’t looking up apparently.

Looks like you get to enjoy a nice walk home in the rain. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“You’re still here.”

You almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He had always been good at sneaking up on people. Of course, it helps when you’re zoned out, focusing on the horror of a day you’ve been having. It doesn’t look like it’s even 9 AM yet.

“Yeah,” You let out an awkward laugh, turning to face him but making a conscious effort not to make eye contact, “Was just about to head off.”

He was now dressed. His hair was a mess from his sleep and their night together. If you closed your eyes, you could probably still imagine how it felt to run your fingers through it.

“Run away, don’t you mean?” Eddie questioned. You hadn’t heard it before but there was no mistaking the hurt in his tone. You finally met his gaze.

“I’m not running away,” You replied.

Eddie scoffed, “Okay, so what is this then?”

He raised a hand to gesture to you standing outside his trailer. You could practically feel your throat go dry.

“I didn’t let anyone know I wasn’t coming home last night. I don’t want to worry anyone,” You told him. It wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the whole truth. You just didn’t want to own up to the fact that you were ferried that if you stayed around Eddie any longer, you would start apologising.

“Just because I’m yet to graduate high school doesn’t mean that I’m that dumb,” Eddie shot back. You opened your mouth and then closed it before taking a deep breath.

“I know you’re not dumb.”

“So tell me the truth,” Eddie leaned his back against the entry of the trailer.

“I didn’t want to face you,” You admitted.

“And why’s that?” Eddie countered.

“I didn’t want to see you mad at me. I didn’t want to stand here and do exactly what we are doing right now because it’s mortifying. I get that it means I’m running away from my problems but from where I’m standing right now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” You stated with a shake of your head.

“You’re that embarrassed?” Eddie quizzed. You let out a scoff.

“I’m sorry that last night happened. I get that you regret it, okay? We don’t need to have this conversation. You don’t feel that way about me. End of story,” You told him.

Eddie’s eyes widened a fraction before laughing loudly at you. You have never been a violent person but right now? You wanted to clock him.

“Can you stop laughing at me?”

“You beautiful idiot,” Eddie laughed, running a hand down his face. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you complimenting me or insulting me?” You asked. Eddie shook his head in disbelief before taking a step closer to you.

“Both,” He replied before cradling your face in his hand and pressing his lips to yours. Your brain was going haywire because what the fuck?

His lips were so soft. Somehow softer than they were last night and you couldn’t help but completely melt into him.

Before you remembered.

“Wait,” You pulled away from him, his lips already trying to chase yours, “I don’t understand.”

Eddie laughed, his hand going to your cheek again to ensure you looked him in the eyes.

“I thought you regretted last night,” Eddie said.

“Why the fuck would I- Oh.”

You were both idiots.

“So… you don’t regret it?” You questioned.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Eddie informed, beginning to trail kisses down your neck, your eyes fluttering close at the feeling, “The only thing I regret is that I don’t remember everything.”

You pulled away with a smile, reaching for his hand and tugging him back towards the opened door of his trailer.

“I say we get a do-over.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a grin before wrapping his arms around your waist to hoist you over his shoulder to get you back into his room faster.

“What are we waiting for then?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x y/n

[mellowsadistic]

Natalie squirmed in place on the bathroom floor, trying not to meet her boyfriend’s eyes.

“Sweetheart, can you be a good girl and lie on your back for Dada?” he asked. His voice was sweet and gentle, but there was something taunting about his tone as well. A smirk was playing around his lips. “Your little diapee is soaked and Daddy has to change your soggy bum-bum!”

Natalie felt her face burning with humiliation. He couldn’t talk to her like that! She was his girlfriend, not his baby!

“But Daddyyy,” she whined, hating how petulant she sounded, “I can do it myself! I don’t need… I don’t want someone else to… I’m an adult!”

He chuckled, and Natalie felt herself going even redder. She was in her twenties, but her boyfriend always had a way of making her feel like a stupid little two-year-old. Everyone else said she was so mature, so sophisticated and independent and put-together, but it was different when she was with him... With just a glance he could strip all that away and leave her as nothing but a dumb, dependent toddler. He made her call him ‘Daddy’. He made her hold his hand whenever she crossed the street. He made her wear diapers and he made her piss in them like some incontinent little brat!

“It’s not funny!” she snapped, trying her best to sound like the angry and disrespected adult woman she was, and not the whiny little girl her boyfriend seemed intent on turning her into. “It’s bad enough that you’ve been making me pee in these disgusting things, but that ends now. I’m going back into panties, and I am not going to lie back and let you change me!” She grabbed one of her nappy’s tapes and ripped it open.

“Bad girl!” her boyfriend scolded suddenly, delivering a firm swat to the top of her thigh.

Natalie squealed and stared up at him furiously. He couldn’t do this to her! He couldn’t just smack her like a misbehaving child! She wasn’t going to put up with this anymore!

But he raised his eyebrow sternly at the sight of her glare, and Natalie immediately dropped her gaze to the floor. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. Why was she so pathetic?! She was supposed to be a grown woman! Was that really all it took for her boyfriend to turn her into his meek, obedient little plaything? A stern look?

“No more fussing, sweetie,” he said firmly. “You’re not going back to panties. You’re just a big, dumb baby who pees and poops in her pants, and that means you need nappies. And you certainly don’t change them yourself. That’s a grown-up’s job. Now lie back and let Daddy clean you up, or I’ll have no choice but to smack your naughty bottom and make you wear this sopping wet nappy to bed tonight.”

Natalie opened her mouth to say something. Then she whimpered feebly, and lay back on the floor.

“Good girl!” her boyfriend cooed. “That’s my obedient little princess!” He reached forward and undid the other side of her nappy. Then, torturously slowly, he pulled down the front. Natalie kept her eyes focused away, but she couldn’t stop herself from hearing his words.

“P-U!” he said, “What a stinky girl! Who’d have thought that such a cute girl would need her boyfriend to change her yucky wet diapers?”

Natalie cringed with shame and felt him start to wipe her nether regions with a pack of baby wipes. She bit her lip and had to suppress a moan when a wipe passed gently over her bare pussy. She felt ridiculous. She knew she must look absurd – a grown woman lying on the floor in the middle of a diaper change.

“What would all your friends say?” her boyfriend asked, the smirk playing around his mouth again, “If they could see you now?”

Natalie clenched her eyes shut. She couldn’t stand this! She’d never felt so humiliated in her life!

“I doubt any of them still wear nappies, do they?” he asked, and when she didn’t respond, he delivered another swat to her bottom. “Do they, sweetie?”

“No, Daddy,” she whimpered, her face scarlet.

“No,” he agreed, tugging her soggy nappy out from underneath her bottom, wrapping it up, and dropping it down right next to her head.

Natalie wrinkled her nose in disgust and let out a low whine.

“It’s only you who still wets herself,” her boyfriend continued, his eyes glinting sadistically. “It’s only you who still waddles around with her potty taped to her bottom.”

Natalie whined again. It was so unfair! It wasn’t her fault!

“But that’s okay,” he said, the condescending sweetness back in his voice, “because Daddy knows you’re not really a big girl like them. Daddy knows you’re just a baby. You’re just a stupid little girl who isn’t ready to be a grown-up.”

Natalie felt tears filling her eyes again. She felt a fresh nappy slid under her bottom and taped around her waist.

“And Daddy knows you’re going to be naughty sometimes, like you were just now. Because it’s hard going from being a respectable adult woman to a helpless little baby brat who does whatever her Daddy tells her.” He took her by the hands and pulled her to her feet, grinning at the way her bulky nappy pushed her thighs apart. Then he cupped her face gently and kissed her on the forehead. “But you’d better behave tonight,” he said, and he pointed to the soggy, yellow-tinged nappy bundled up on the floor, “or tomorrow I’ll make you open up your diaper pail, take that pissy nappy out, and wear it all day.”

Natalie burst into tears. “Yes Daddy!” she sobbed, her big girl façade broken to pieces. “I’ll be a good girl! I promise!”

#mellowsadistic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You keep a frantic pace away from Clyde's place. Well, it isn't his anymore. You realise then you didn't get a name. You didn't get much of anything. Oh god. That was horrible. You told your grandmother you didn't want to bother. That man doesn't need a pie.

You come to the end of the drive and turn down the country road. At least it's good exercise. You shrug to yourself and cringe as you try to shake off the humiliation. Just stop thinking about it.

'Pie.'

Ugh, could you not think of anything else to say? You mutter to yourself about how stupid you are. What are you going to tell your grandma? She'll have a thousand questions, as nosy as she is.

As you carry on, wiping your sweaty palms on your flowy linen pants, you hear a rumbling. It's the familiar noise of a farmer's truck. You sidle over on the shoulder to make way for the passerby. To your surprise and chagrin, they don't pass. Instead, they slow and keep a snailish pace with you.

"Hey," the man calls. You know it's the stranger, his voice is stamped in your head; 'pie'. His eyes too. His bold blue irises stormy like the ocean. "Hey, let me give you a ride. Must be quite a ways you came down here."

"It's okay," you refuse to look over, "I'm fine."

"It's not too much trouble. I'm headed into town for some supplies. Maybe you know where I can find some chain."

He revs the truck, idling then bouncing forward with each step you make. You ball your fists tight as you stomp on. Why won't he let you go hide in shame?

"It was real sweet to bring that pie," he says, "what kind was it? I couldn't tell."

"Rhubarb," you answer, still bearing down on the country road. "I can walk, sir."

"I... I hope I didn't scare you," he says.

You're silent. You stalk onward. Home, home, always so far away. His stick shift cranks and the truck stops. He leaves it running as the door pops open and his footsteps march over the pavement onto the gravel.

"Will you please stop?" He comes up behind you, "look, where I'm from, we keep things even. You brought me a pie, I'll give you a ride."

You just want him to leave you alone. He might go away quicker if you just let him drive you. Then again, you don't like the idea of being alone in a car with him.

"No thank you."

"Hmm," he as good as growls, "you're the first unfriendly face I've met around here."

"I'm not..." you let your voice trail off, "sorry sir, but it's not far."

"Then it's no big thing."

"I like to walk," you squeak.

"Damn stubborn," he comments as he stops.

You keep going as his footsteps trail away. You don't look back as his engine roars again. He falls back into the same pattern as before, lurching forward little by little with your steps. You want him to go away so badly. You have tears in your eyes.

You look across the field. The Berrys are nice people. You gauge the distance to the trees. There's an old path you haven't been along since Cassidy still lived at home, your old babysitter.

You veer suddenly and fall into a sprint across the expanse of tall grass. You must look ridiculous but you've already made such a fool of yourself that it hardly matters. You're not really thinking, you're panicking.

You hear his engine stop and grumble in place. You pump your arms as you race over the flat ground and disappear behind the old well and down towards the brush. Your lungs burn but you don't stop. You can't.

He wouldn't follow you, would he?

You don't stop until you have to. You gasp and gulp and peer over your shoulder into the trees. There's nothing but the moss and scrambling critters. You stumble and lean on a thick trunk.

Great. You really outdid yourself. That man must think you're insane. Maybe you are.

You catch your breath and set back on the path home. Too bad the village is so small. The only way you'll never run into him again is if you take on a self-imposed exile.

Or you could just become a hermit.

You come in sight of your grandma's house. She's on the porch, swaying in the bench swing as she crochets. You tramp up the steps as she glance over without turning her head.

“That was quick,” she comments. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you lie.

“You're a mess,” she scowls at your pants, mud splattered up the chambray.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you shrug. “Just took a shortcut.

“Mhmm, aren't you going to tell me about them?”

“Um,” you move to lean on the porch railing, “it was just some guy.”

“Some guy?” She wonders, needles clacking. “Young, old?”

“Er, I guess, pretty young…”

“So no wife? Single, hm,” she mulls.

“I think. I didn't ask.”

“Well, what's his name?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” She narrows her eyes.

“I didn't… get it.”

“Ugh,” she frowns, “I should've gone myself but my hip. I'll have to call Lynette and see if she's heard anythinf else.”

“Sorry,” you pout.

“Well, you never were very social,” she tuts, “but I'd say you're more than old enough to learn. I'd like to have a great grandchild or two before I'm in the ground.”

“Grandma,” you exclaim, “don't talk like that.”

“You need me too. You need sense. You have no sense of urgency, dear. In a place like this, that's saying something.”

You deflate and throw your hands up, “sorry to disappoint… again.”

You push yourself off the railing and drag your feet towards the door.

“Oh don't be a child,” she reproaches.

You ignore her snipe, “what do you want for dinner?”

“Already in the oven,” she states tritely, “silly me, I thought you might invite the new neighbour to meet me, since I'm a but limited at the moment.”

“I… didn't think.”

She hums in disapproving agreement. You continue inside before she can make you feel any smaller. You know you're behind, you always have been. You're just as disappointed as she is.

#destroyer!chris #destroyer #chris x reader #dark!destroyer!chris #drabble #series #the stranger #au #backwoods au

[saulocept]

you call the shots, babe

pairing: könig/f!reader

rating: t

summary: He shouldn’t think of you this way, he knows. It’s not right, it’s not appropriate. It’s a knowledge that’s been drilled through him from the start, and he hasn’t forgotten about that. And still, he can’t stop.

notes: oh u know lol. post cringe, log out, repeat 🫡  

if its not obvious enough i am not sure what i am doing but also this is self indulgent in nature (have u seen him?) so warning for cringe all ahead. there’s a hint of a spice but its not explicit lol also might continue this further when an idea strikes but yea. sorry everyone lets get back to business. sorry

If anyone would ask, he’d be the first to confess, admit it out loud. It was his idea first – it always had been, and no amount of thinking, wondering could ever excuse his actions. He’d toyed with the idea for weeks, months; he’d stayed up late at night to dream, imagining how it’d go, wondering what he’d do if he’d only been bold enough to chase after what he wanted.

He knows he shouldn’t. Every bit of rationale he has tells him he shouldn’t. It’s not right. It’s not appropriate. He knows this more than he knows anything in the world – a knowledge drilled through him right from the very start, but he can’t help it. He’s liked you from afar, since the beginning, even before you’d actually met, got to know each other – loved, even though it felt too strong of a word to use.

And it’s no secret either. Everyone else around him seems to have caught on, sometimes even going as far as to tease him each time you’re around. You never seem to notice, however, or maybe you’re just used to ignoring it, pretending you couldn’t see the look he gives you, trying your hardest to stay professional, keeping him at arm’s length, like he knows you should.

He knows he should follow your example. Forget he’s ever had any feelings for you and carry on like the good soldier he is. Anyone else would’ve done the same thing, the right thing; you’re his mentor, for fuck’s sake – one of the only few people he’s got comfortable with over the months – and even if you’re not that much older than him, it’s still not right.

But he can’t stop. He’d tried, more than once. Did everything he could to forget about you. He’d tried to distract himself as much as he could, busied himself with other things. Focused on the only thing he’s good at, because it keeps his mind off you, stops his mind from wandering, thinking. And for a while, it worked, until he’s ran out of things to do and he can’t help but start thinking about you, again.

He hates it. He should move on, forget all about you. It’s clear you won’t ever like him back, especially now that you’re more distant with him. Avoiding him on purpose, like you can’t stand being around him anymore. Like a stranger, except it’s even worse, because he knows you now know how he feels about you. It’s unrequited; he knew it from the start, really, but now the knowledge of it closes in on him like dirt, undeniable. It’s the truth, something he can’t ever run away from.

And it hurts, really, because now he feels like he’s ruined everything between you, but it should also help, some part of him thinks. He could find some other hobby, something different to do. And maybe then, he’ll stop thinking about you the way he used to do, with hunger, yearning. Maybe then he could look at you the same way he did before all this: like a friend, a mentor – someone he’d looked up to and adored.

Maybe somewhere down the line, this will be nothing but a pleasant memory, something he’ll look back on with a bit of embarrassment and shame. But he knows he’d always search for you in the sea of everything. He’d tried. He’s still trying.

-

He’s not sure how it happened. If he thinks back on this night, all he’ll remember is a blur. Pieces of a puzzle he can’t hope to complete. Vague details here and there, but he knows that it had been harmless, at first, innocent even. He’d drunk too much, bitten off more than he can chew. He’s not sure why he was drinking in the first place, but he’s not sure if it matters now anymore.

And here he is now, stumbling back into his bunk, drunk out of his mind. His head’s pounding, his thoughts are in disarray, and there’s a second where he couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d like to do nothing more than to fall back into bed, asleep and resting.

But he stops, confused. He thinks he might be dreaming, at first – all his desires coming back to haunt him. You sitting on his bed, unmistakable even from afar, even when his thoughts are hazy. Flipping through a book – yours, most likely, because he can’t remember owning something like that in his life.

He blinks, confused. He leans against the door, looks you up and down. You’re still here, in the flesh, staring back at him with curiosity. It means he’s not dreaming, after all. “What are you doing here?”

His voice comes out a slur; he could barely hear his own voice through the pounding of his own head, and he murmurs a curse under his breath, rubbing his temples with his fingers, as though it’d somehow alleviate the ache in his head. It doesn’t work, not really, but your voice comes after, pierces through the fog, the silence.

“You’re in the wrong room,” you say, and your voice is gentle. He could almost swear you’re smiling, trying to hold back the laugh that he’s almost certain would come. “I think you drank too much.”

He shakes his head, mumbles another curse, then stumbles to sit beside you on the bed.  He watches you scoot a little to the side, trying to give him more space, and he blinks in confusion, staring at you. You’re not looking him in the eye, focusing on your book instead like he isn’t there. He frowns. He could feel the sting of your rejection, and it hurts more than he cares to admit.

“Are you avoiding me?” He shouldn’t even ask that when he knows the answer. Maybe he’s really drunk out of his mind for him to be this honest, this talkative. There’s a part of him that knows he should stop talking, leave it alone. He wouldn’t like what you’ll say, he knows, but he can’t seem to stop.

He stares at you, waits, watches as you flip through another page of your book, still refusing to look at him. “It’s for your own good.”

This time, your voice is quiet, serious, and he grits his teeth, clenches his hands into fists. He knows that. Fuck, he knows it better than anyone, better than you even, and he hates that you’re the one who’s giving him a lesson, giving him a lecture over something he’s known from the beginning. And maybe it’s the alcohol in his system, maybe he’s fed up with your rejection, but the words are right there in front of him, waiting to be said. He shouldn’t, really, if he knows what’s good for him. But it’s too late for any regrets now, or maybe he’s just not in the right mind to care. Either way, it’s out in the open now, and it’s too late to take the words back. “Aren’t we friends?”

He sounds absolutely pathetic, pitiable. He’d laugh at himself if he were sober, less drunk than he is right now. He sounds childish, like a boy throwing a tantrum because he couldn’t get what he wants, and he knows he should stop before he embarrasses himself further, dig himself a grave he can’t ever rise from, but he can’t. Fuck. The words are just spewing out of him now, like a dam has broken somewhere inside of him, and can’t stop spilling, won’t stop spilling. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

“We are friends,” you say, and he hates the sound of your voice, that faux gentleness in it, patronizing and ultimately untrue. Like he’s a child, and you’re admonishing him for misbehaving. “And you know it’s not about that.”

You breathe out a sigh, closing your book with a quiet thump, placing it on the bureau next to you. And then you’re twisting toward his direction, facing him for the first time. There’s a somberness in your expression that wasn’t there before, and still, there it is: that gentleness that he hates, and the one that draws him in like a moth to a flame.

You like him well enough; he knows. He could see it in your eyes, in the way you look at him, and it should feel comforting, really, to know that you’re still friends, that you’re not going to treat him any differently, but fuck, he hates it. Hates how it all feels so fake – a lie carved out of nothing, meant to mollify and leave him wanting.

He’s tired of it, of this, of you. Tired of whatever this strange thing is between you, more confusing than ever. He’s seen the way you stare at him from afar when you think no one else is looking. He’s caught you a few times, and each time, he could never seem to understand what it means.

You’ve never once told him, not really, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be brave enough to ask. But it sits here, anyway, a weight pressing in on him, tight enough to suffocate. Lodged between you, though he wonders if he’s the only one who could see it, feel it.

There’s a time and place for everything, he thinks. Any other time and he wouldn’t even say a word. He would’ve nodded, left it at that, pretended he understood even if he didn’t. He wouldn’t have found the means to say it, too caught up with his own shame to even bother trying. But maybe all the alcohol’s making him numb, stupid. Maybe it’s the only thing that keeps him going, even when he knows there isn’t any hope.

“If you don’t hate me,” he begins, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat. There’s a voice in the back of his mind, protesting, yelling at him to stop, because everything would be ruined after this, but it seems so distant now, so far away. He should stop, say something else, before everything he’d ever worked hard for falls apart in front him. “Then kiss me.”

You stare at him for a long time, startled, uncertain, like it’s not what you’re expecting. A thoughtful look flashes in your eyes, and for a second, you’re frowning, looking deep in thought, like you’re mulling his words over, weighing the pros and cons. “Are you sure?”

He laughs. Fuck. He feels hazy, out of his mind. He stares at you, keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, shifting a little on the bed, closer like he’s daring you to move away. You don’t. He smiles a little, nearly grinning.

There’s a buzzing in his head, and he can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol in his veins or if it’s from excitement, or from something else entirely. He moves a little closer, and still, you remain where you are, refusing to budge. Your silence should feel like a rejection, but it doesn’t, not really; there’s something in the way you look at him that pulls him in, convinces him to take matters into his own hands.

He's giddy, drunk out of his mind, and bolder now than he’s ever been in his life. He would’ve never believed he has it in him, but it doesn’t matter now because he’s making the first move, leaning closer, his face mere inches away from yours.

And still, you’re not pushing him away. He takes it as a sign to continue; here, he feels the warmth of your breath, how it tickles his cheek, his skin. It should feel like a mistake, being this close to you, and he knows he shouldn’t do it, should stop before he starts regretting it, but he can’t. And now that he has you right where he wants you, he doesn’t ever want to go back.

It’s automatic, the way he moves, fueled only by his wanting alone. Slowly, he raises a hand, rests his palm against your cheek. You’re so warm against him, so real; the feel of you now wouldn’t ever compare to his dreams, his fantasies.

He should grab this chance, he knows, before you change your mind, push him away. But there’s a part of him that wants to make the most of it, savor this moment for as long as he can, knowing he wouldn’t ever get this chance again in this life, the next.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and it’s almost strange, hearing himself speak. He sounds different, somehow, his voice raw, thick with wanting that he almost doesn’t recognize it at first.

And still, you don’t object. It feels weird having all this much power over you when it’s always been the opposite. Still, he can’t deny and say that he doesn’t enjoy it, especially now that you’re doing as he asks without complaint, without another word.

He pauses a little, takes his moment drinking you in, memorizing every part of you as much as he could, refusing to take his eyes off you lest you disappear, fade out of existence. Like a dream. Gently, he traces his fingertips along your skin, as if to make sure you’re still real, still here.

His reward is a shudder, a shaky exhale spilling out of your lips, and the sweet taste of anticipation lingering on the tip of his tongue. There’s tension in here, too, somewhere: thick, cloying, nearly suffocating. He can’t deny it anymore, can’t ignore it, and it’s here that he takes the plunge, closing the distance between you.

Fuck. You taste better than he’d ever imagined, better than in his dreams, and he can’t get enough; from your response, it’s clear that you feel the same way, too. You wrap your arms around his neck, desperate to have him closer, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging.

It’s a harsh tug, unexpected, and he can’t help the hiss that spills out of him. It’s enough to make him lose control, though maybe it’s all he’s wanted all along. You’re quick to take the reigns yourself, pulling back briefly to nip at his bottom lip: light, playful, coaxing more sounds out of him.

He stares at you, wanting, waiting, and you only give him a smile before leaning in to kiss him again. The kiss is different this time: hungry, ruinous – all tongue and teeth and merciless taking. And still, it’s not enough, never enough. He tugs you closer, pulls you against him, as if he could somehow keep you with him, forever.

He knows, he can’t, not really. Still, he’s content with staying in this moment for a little while, riding out this fever dream until it’s over and he’s completely spent. Everything that happens is all a blur, and all he remembers are vague details – a series of images that come and go, as fleeting as a memory.

The touch of your hand. The warmth of your skin. The sound of your voice, breathless and wanting. All of your secrets laid bare for him to see: mirroring his own, converging until there’s nothing left but heat and fire, bursting in the spaces between, exploding.

It’s over as quickly as it comes. Darkness tugs at him, and he’s quick to fall into oblivion: content and satisfied. When he opens his eyes, he’s alone, back in his room. The memory of last night comes back to him in full force, but there’s no sign of you anywhere that he can’t help but wonder if it’s all a dream, something he’d made up in his head.

#renwrites #konig x reader #modern warfare x reader

[rangercorpstherapy]

To the latest fandom take:

I strongly disagree with the take "new posts are cringe and low effort". Brother (gender neutral), trust me, you shaming them is so embarrassing. Let people enjoy what they want to enjoy. You're not held down by chains with your eyes forcefully open to look at those posts. Just scroll past or block accounts you don't like. Instead of being joyful about new people joining in, you chose to be bitter about what they post. We were all at that age. Stop picking on younger teens. Hell, it isn't about age. Every post, as long as it is not harmful, is valid and as long as its author enjoys it and enjoys sharing, don't stomp on it. That way, we'll get less and less posts. So what that people keep posting headcanons or essays that are "obvious" or were here before? Those people weren't here before. Let them DISCOVER the wonderful RA world for themselves and share that excitement. And if those posts don't satisfy? WRITE YOUR OWN. Thank you, cheff.

However, what I want to draw attention to (now speaking to everyone), is the remark about fanartists. I know some that left or stopped actively creating for the reason that they felt not appreciated. It goes deeper than that. In the world built on capitalism and consumerism, amateur artists (who are also human beings who seek assurance and positive encouraging feedback) and who come to fandom to share their free artwork for fun and for interaction that gives them motivation to go on, are not some machines that come automatically giving content. Consuming their art and using it without even interacting, especially in this small fandom, can feel draining and this is not what the fanartists came here to do. If you look at it through their eyes, would you continue to do art if you felt it hasn't found its audience or if the audience felt passive about it? You do not have to like some art work. I get it, we all have our own taste. But if you do not support artists, especially beginning ones, it's really easy to lose the motivation. And you're robbing yourself. Imagine some artist who would have become great and eventually posted the art you like, is not sharing their art because they didn't feel motivated.

In conclusion. OP of the prev fandom take, I definitely do not agree with your opinion on ra tag and posts. I also don't like the tone in which you wrote your whole ask. But, everyone, I do believe there's a tiny thing that's worth giving a thought in the part about fanart.

All I see lately is people complaining there aren't good posts or that fandom is dying. Babes, if you're not gonna interact with things, either posts or art or fics or whatever, of course the activity is gonna die down. But also I do think that on the other hand, people who say stuff like "we don't have content anymore are the ones who purposefully ignore posts of the newer blogs just because it isn't entirely their taste and then say this fandom is desolated wasteland about to be hit by dinosaur killing meteorite. Valid, you don't have to reblog stuff that you don't want to. But then stop complaining about that fact there isn't stuff and either shut up and move on or contribute yourself.

Pessimism and toxicity isn't what this fandom needs and to be real I am tired of these fandom takes that what is actually bringing this fandom down. Complaints and call outs to toxic and harmful behaviour is valid and shouldn't be suppressed and please, everyone don't ever be afraid to do that. But these shaming takes and asks, is like chasing and biting your own tail and then complaining it hurts. I'd really appreciate it if some of you could refrain from shaming people who harmlessly enjoy stuff. Bye.

x

#rangercorpstherapy #rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice

[mattsdae]

help wanted

tags: joe young x masc reader , curruption , phone sex , mutual masturbation ig , reader is a perv , probably ooc , but also probably not bc i studied up on everyone elses fics , humiliation , lots of degradation BUT it’s just guys being guys lol , some praise , brief mention of pillow humping , homophobic language , so many ellipsis i think my period button is broken , he also stutters a lot which is usually cringe when overdone but he’s also a pathetic mess who can’t finish his sentences

synopsis: joe often finds himself confused on set and asks you for help. in a time of need, you’re the only person he can think of to call.

word count: ~2k

a/n: part 2 and 3 are out now! check it out pt. 2 here! pt. 3 here!

just a quick warning: i am very underqualified for this fic (considering i never watched orgazmo) BUT i do have an intense corruption kink that makes me want to ruin joe young. also, reader has a dick. there isn’t nearly enough gay shit in this fandom, so i’m taking it upon myself. it’s also can’t imagine any trey parker character being straight.

—

“you got morning wood and thought to call me?” it was 6 in the morning, a time you haven’t woken up at since elementary school. you didn’t answer at first, but decided to after he left a voicemail consisting of ‘i need your help’ and ‘call back please’. now, you were pissed off because instead of being injured or in need of actually important advice, he needed someone to ask about boners.

“i don’t know what to do..” joe mumbled, his voice dripping with shame. you shrugged, leaning up in your bed as he waited for an answer.

“just jack off or something; you’ll be fine.” you weren’t sure why he called you of all people. you weren’t exactly close with him. he would come up to you and ask questions about the script, usually too nervous to ask female co-stars, but the conversation never lasted more than a few seconds. they always went the same.

what does head mean?

a blowjob.

what’s that?

when a girl sucks your dick.

oh lord-

followed by him walking away briskly. once he asked what squirting was, but you never answered because you were too busy laughing. he always had this shaky, scared tone when he asked, which only made his cluelessness funnier. for a while, you thought it was a bit. from his incompetence during sex to his talks about ‘our lord and savior’, it was all too perfect.

“is that..” he trailed off. that was one of the first terms he asked you, which started your facination. it’s not like you were into him, you weren’t a fag, but it was a little cute. the questions annoyed the hell out of you, but you loved the look on his face when he would connect the dots and realize what he accidentally said. the innocent, almost shameful look on his face quickly melting to shock and pure embarassment hearing such dirty words leave your mouth (and so casually).

“guess.” after he asked enough questions to annoy you, you started asking him to guess what it meant, which completely changed the game. it was amazing. he’d blush, stuttering over his words as he tried to explain what he thought it might mean without saying anything too sinful. it wasn’t annoying to you anymore. you almost looked forward to when he’d ask his stupid little questions.

“oh, um.. is it when you.. touch yourself?” he whispered the last part.

“precisely,” you chuckle over the line. he cleared his throat, some static covering it as he adjusted himself as well. you leaned back fully, head resting on your pillow as you waited for him to end the call and run off.

“h-how..?” he stuttered. for a moment, you felt a little confused. you never met someone who didn’t jack off every so often. after the initial confusion wore off, you started to wish you could see him.

“you’ve never masturbated?” a grin spread on your face as he let out a shaky breath. he didn’t respond, most likely shaking his head in refusal. “what? you want me to talk you through it?”

it wasn’t a serious offer, just a little more teasing, but you heard something over the phone that resembled a moan. he was ashamed, sure, but he couldn’t deny himself forever. that was only confirmed as you heard a ‘mhm’ sound, barely loud enough to hear.

“what was that?” it was a little mean, making him repeat himself even though he was so clearly humiliated by this whole interaction, but you couldn’t help yourself. “gotta say it a little louder, i can’t hear you.”

“please.” maybe you were a fag because the pathetic whimper he let out turned you on. a lot. he still said it just above a whisper, but it worked.

“you really want this? i’m sure you could figure it out, you’re a big boy.” another jab at him, which only made him huff. you desperately wanted to see him, but it would probably kill you. the idea of his red cheeks, trembling fingers, not to mention his hard cock.

“i need..” a desperate whine and some more shuffling sounded off, which only made you more excited. “please?”

“tell me what you’re doing. i hear a lot of movement over there.” your hand made their way to your crotch, rubbing over your sweatpants without second thought. “you humping your pillow or something?”

another whimper. you chuckled, crackling over the line.

“you would be the type. think about what those girls do during our shoots. the way they touch you..” he huffed again, more shuffling. “go ahead and get comfortable.”

“o-okay.” the phone made a knocking noise as he put it down, making quick work of removing his pants. “what next?”

“good job,” you laughed. “how about this. i’ll tell you what i’m doing and you mimick me.”

“like simon says?”

“exactly.” you sighed, gripping yourself a little harder. “go ahead and feel yourself. don’t go under your boxers, just touch yourself over it.”

“okay,” he mumbled. you bit your lip as a moan played over the phone.

“move your hand up and down, squeeze a little bit too. do it nice and slow for me, alright?” his moans became muffled, his hand physically holding them back. even with the barrier, you could clearly hear his whimpers as he touched himself through the material. “you sure you’ve never done this before? it sounds like you know yourself really well.”

“n-no, never.” the words barely made past his lips as he let out another moan.

“tell me how it feels. make sure it’s detailed,” you asked. another small whimper.

“c-can’t..”

“come on, you can do it,” a grin on your face spread as you said it. you couldn’t get enough of him. “just tell me if it feels good.”

“it feels really good.” he sighed, making you grip yourself harder. each noise he made went straight to your groin. “i-i feel like this is a sin…”

you nearly moaned out loud at the statement. his voice was still shaky and nervous, but you didn’t think he’d ever be able to be normal during sex. he’d always be a trembling, embarassed mess in front of whoever decided to sleep with him.

“it’s not a sin, man. i’m just helping you out, ya know?” you’re voice was breathy, rubbing your thumb over your clothed tip. another whimper from over the phone.

“are you sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure of anything.” maybe it was wrong to lie, especially since he was clearly devoted to his religion, but once again, you couldn’t help yourself. his little huffs and whines did more for you than any girl ever has. “you like it, right? how could it be a sin if you enjoy it so much?”

“o-oh, okay,” he responded. you bit your lip, stifling a whimper as you let yourself go. his blindly trusting behavior nearly sent you over the edge.

“go ahead and take your boxers off for me,” you pulled your cock out at the same time he did, hearing a small gasp on the other side of the phone. you chuckled. “you gotta wait until i tell you, baby.”

“sorry.” the pet name seemingly went over his head as he apologized, whimpering from the loss of contact. you chuckle.

“good boy,” you drawled. “should i make you wait a little longer for not listening?”

“no, no, no! please,” he begged. you let out a deep laugh, one that came from your chest. it was almost endearing how horny he was. you knew he never had sex and now you knew he also never touched himself, so finally having a hand around his dick must feel amazing. you still enjoyed teasing him for it.

“fuck, you really want this, huh?” he hummed in agreement. “go ahead, man. you earned it.”

you take hold of your cock as he does. he let’s out a string of moans and sobs as he thrusts into his own hand. you touched yourself with long, languid tugs. you almost basked in noises coming from his mouth. filthy cries escaping as he committed sin after sin, squirming in the pleasure. it was a pathetic display that you couldn’t get enough of. his noises got louder and shorter, a staccato to each whimper exposing how close he was.

“slow down a little, i wanna cum at the same time. you think you can hold off for a little longer, baby?” he was so far gone, he couldn’t even comprehend your digs. any other time, he’d be beet red and trying to escape, but now he soaked in every little comment. he nods nonetheless, whining as he slowed nearly to a stop.

“where are you going?” he asked. his voice dripped with pure sex, but his question was so innocent. at first, you didn’t get it. just before you asked what he meant, it clicked. he didn’t know what cum meant. he thought you meant you were going somewhere. you laughed, covering your mouth to muffle it, but he could still hear it. “why are you laughing?”

“that’s that what i meant, sweetheart!” an exaggerated sweet comment that only made him more confused. you wished you could see his sweet little face, trying to read what you meant by your words but failing miserably. “do you remember what orgasm means?”

the strangled whimper confirmed everything you needed to know. first of all, he did understand what orgasm meant, but he also made it known that he liked you talking this way, just as much as you did. a subtle ‘yes’ came in, quiet enough that you almost had to genuinely ask him to speak up.

“i’m guessing you don’t know what it feels like though, right?” you smirked, knowing the answer was no.

“well..” you stopping moving your hand, pausing in confusion. “i had a dream once..”

“you had a wet dream?!” you grinned. he hummed, agreeing but still shy about saying it. “you’re fucking amazing, dude. wow!”

“i dunno what that means.” he must’ve stopped touching himself as well, considering how even his tone was now (at least as even as he could possibly get it).

“so you came in your pants? from a dream?” he didn’t reply, which only confirmed your suspicion. “what was it about?”

“w-what?” you grabbed yourself again.

“tell me about your dream. you remember it right?” you slid your thumb over your tip, collecting some of your precum for lube. after a while without a response, only whimpers playing over the line. “come on, at least tell me who it was about.”

“umm..” he still didn’t give a proper answer.

“was it a girl you filmed with?”

“no.”

“your ex?”

“n-no..”

“dave?!”

“no no!” you thought for a while, trying to figure out who else it could have been.

“don’t tell me it was maxxx-“

“it was you!” he blurts it out. the line crackled as the words lingered in the air. you were shellshocked by the confession. “i-i thought about you showing me what all those weird words meant. like, doing it to me..”

your jaw dropped, staring at the ceiling as you listened to his little fantasy, a fantasy you also dreamed about every so often. the silence was long enough for him to say your name, trying to catch your attention.

“what was i doing?” you finally asked. he whimpered.

“don’t make me say it…”

“i’m just curious! do you think you can touch yourself while telling me?” it was perverted and down right gross what you were making him do, but you couldn’t stop yourself. with quick tugs, you listen to his story. he moaned as he grabbed himself again.

“ah.. i went up to you and- and asked what something meant.. i-it was all gibberish and-“ you accidentally cut him off with a moan, now thrusting into your hand. “you.. you showed me. you touched me and kissed me. it felt really good..”

“you’re so dirty, joe.” you pant. he whimpers and starts going faster, just like you are, which only made his story more interesting to listen to. “keep going, i’m close.”

“you got on your knees-“ a pulse of heat ran down your body, another moan coming from your chest. “and you.. kissed it..”

“you dreamt about me giving you head?” you laughed, an airy laugh that were laced with moans. he whimpers again.

“you- you made me beg..” the noises that came from you were pornographic. your cock coating in precum as he told you about his perverted little dream.

“tell me how you begged.” you huffed. he sobs, obviously close to orgasm himself. nonetheless, he obliges.

“i said.. i said please a lot. you were rubbing my thigh and i thought i was gonna cry.”

just like that, you came. a girly moan escaped your lips as ropes of cum covered your chest and stomach. your hips jumped, thrusting into your fist and fucking your own hand. by the time you calmed down, he also came, letting out slobbery ‘thank you’s as he came on himself as well.

“good boy, such a good boy. you feel better now?”

“yes! yes!” he sobbed, still getting over his orgasm. he panted, pathetic little cries threatening to make you hard again. you smiled.

“you did so good for me, huh? my filthy boy..” you trailed off as his noises subsided. it was quiet for a while, the only sound coming from his side of the call being little gasps and pants.

“was that.. gay?” joe whispered. it was. it was really fucking gay. it was probably the most gay thing you’ve ever done, but you decided to spare his feelings.

“nah, man. just friends helping out friends.”

#ahhhh #i’m honestly thinking ab making this a series bc i love him sm #joe young x reader #trey parker x reader

[papabay]

This may seem silly, but I've had an OC for Naruto for years. It was my comfort show growing up and the character evolved as I evolved. I've always had a problem posting my sketches or showing her cause I used to get clowned on so hard about it. I don't think people think of OC as cringy anymore but I still have the mental block, ya know?

Did you ever have that? Do you have any ideas on how to get around it?

I absolutely get it, but I definitely think nowadays people are definitely more open about it. I think everyone is now entering their "cringe but I am free" era. As in, it's not really cringe at all, but if other people are gonna cringe about it, who cares. You are free and can do whatever you want. Plus OCs are such a widespread and normal thing, so please don't deprive yourself of that part of yourself that everyone is so freely enjoying. Plus the more you own it, the less you will care what people think. Next time someone wants to shame you just have the mentality of "yeah I fucking love creating OC's, and what of it?"

[deepestuniversallove]

Hey I literally logged in just to give you support. Don't listen to these idiots telling you that you're gross for loving Mewtwo.

Because if loving Mewtwo is gross then the entire monster-fucking community should also be shamed but they aren't hmmmmmm I wonder why.

The degenerates in this fandom are perfectly fine with Ash fucking Latias, and men fucking Gardevoir, Vaporeon, or whatever slutty monster girl bitch of the week, but nooo you self shipping with Mewtwo is apparently cONcERnING or whatever.

(I love how no one calls the Hatsune Miku guy names lol, do I smell double standards? )

But this doesn't surprise me because the Pokemon community is full of hypocrites and these are the same no - life losers who shit their pants because Ash isn't in the anime anymore, their parents truly failed in raising them.

Lord knows I faced enough trouble for loving Steven and that too, from an Eevee fucker.

Monika, sweetie you are doing nothing wrong, your love for Mewtwo is so innocent, sweet and pure. I think it's beautiful how helped you with depression and escape your narcissistic mother.

People on this site love to preach mental health support but the very minute you do something different yet harmless suddenly it's

"OH NO YOU DARE TO LOVE A "FICTIONAL CHARACTER"

Keep on giving them rectal bleeding and draw more of you and Mewtwo ;) I love to see it.

AHH thank you so much for this message!! 🥹 That is so sweet of you!

Yeah, I dunno why it has always been like this. Even 10 or even 20 years ago, I often got messages chastising me for selfshipping with Mewtwo, calling it "nasty" and "degenerate", when really, i am not doing it to specifically be a degenerate, but because I honestly love Mewtwo. In his story, he too had to fight against a narcissistic "parent" (Giovanni), just like I had to against my own. How can it be seen as a crime to want to believe? Or has it been wrong to say "Mewtwo, please teach me to be brave like you" in my mind during the hard times, especially back when I was a lonely child?

Haha, I doubt anyone could ever shame the monster fucker community out of what they are doing. Or the furry community for that matter. 🤣

There always seems to be some sort of underlying misogyny happening. Women are expected to get an IRL husband/boyfriend to serve as soon as possible, so seeing a woman openly rather selfship with a fictional character is threatening to them, because how dare a woman not be in the kitchen and make sandwiches for a man? How dare a woman prefer to be single when there is a "male crisis of loneliness" happening?

Then again, I don't think I owe society anything. Where was society when I was abused? Where was the help or the community when I needed them most? I was left to my own devices. When a fictional character like Mewtwo brings someone like me more hope than any IRL human, that's how I know we failed as a society. Even sicker is that other more destructive forms of coping mechanisms are more encouraged. Somehow selfshipping is seen as more evil by the "moral police" than dying from a drug overdose on the streets or having alcoholism.

Anyone who ever complains to me about "ruining Mewtwo" or whatever - no, you aren't "concerned", you are just using that word to camouflage that what you really want is control over me and what I put out there. And i can tell you it is futile. I haven't survived so far just for some snotty brats to tell me what i can or cannot do in MY online space. Don't like what I post? Tough titties, use the block button. No one is forcing you to look at my "cringe". My cringy stuff brings me joy and makes me happy, and I feel I deserve some happiness in this shitty world of ours. You do too, so just..go and have some fun yourself. Don't waste your only life on policing others.

So yeah, you are right, dagdasgoddess. I will keep giving people "rectal bleeding". 🤣 No one can stop me from loving Mewtwo, my guardian angel that even visits me in my dreams at night, and loves me even when I absolutely despise myself. He will always be a bastion of love for me, a symbol that life is worth living regardless of hardships.

#mewtwo #selfshipping #answered asks

[stinkrascal]

i gotta rant about cringe tiktok stuff you guys dont mind me 🤸‍♂️

it is so hard out here being an evil astarion truther….. im trying to curate my tiktok so that i can watch silly bg3 memes and i went out of my way to like a bunch of stuff from the ascended astarion tag so tiktok knows where i stand, but instead of giving me videos of ppl who also like ascended astarion you know like the videos i went out of my way to like…. instead it recommends me a bunch of videos of teenagers trying to shame ppl for their “””bad media literacy skills””” bc choosing the bad ending for astarion cant be a roleplaying choice you make in this roleplaying game, it just means you suck at reading i guess, and then comparing ppl who made a choice in a video game to actual real life abusers and how spawn astarion is the Only True astarion ending and how you're kinda suspicious if you pick the evil route. if you scroll thru the ascended astarion tag thats all you see videos of on tiktok. like what the hell you guys, go to ur own fucking tag then wtf 😭 it's just so cringey to me. like seriously i have seen videos where girls insinuate that "it's fine if you like ascended astarion i GUESS, but just know that others will be uncomfortable with your decisions and you shouldn't be upset when they don't want to talk to you anymore." and then they post that shit IN THE ASCENDED ASTARION TAG......... like girl what else am i supposed to do then like i'm literally trying to curate my online experience and you aren't LETTING ME because you keep posting videos in the cringe vampire daddy dom tag talking about how badly you hate cringe vampire daddy doms. like what else am i supposed to do for you besides to just stop enjoying this route in the game. bc it truly seems like the only natural conclusion most of these tiktok weirdos want us to arrive at is to just... like... stop enjoying the route we enjoyed and enjoy the route they enjoyed more instead 🤒

#just tag ur shit appropriately you know 😭 it really isn't hard #i should not see ur ascended astarion hater ass in the ascended astarion tag!!!!!!!! go back to being catholic in ur own tag u dweeb!!!!!!! #listen i promise this isn't spawn vs ascended discourse i love all my normal asty fans ❤ it's the weirdos on tiktok who hurt my soul

[palestporn]

Gamzee: Be bad at your job

If you learned any one thing all the sweeps you've been here, it's how it's not your business to lose your shit. It's your business when the emperor comes in losing his shit, to chill him out and settle him down--if he ever wanted. And it's your business to be chill and let him make you chiller, if he ever fucking wanted.

What happens isn't that.

Kind of starts that way, with "man, who even knows what he's thinking, he's got his own business--" ears down and voice soft like it should be, except when you say, "I dunno, when I was eight he called me up off the beach to his hive," one of the thoughts you had handled under the sopor jumps back up like a laughsassin and stabs you right behind the horns. The bad thought, which is what if dad's still looking for me and the worse one, which is of course he's not, you dumb motherfucker.

Your claws are too dull to cut in when they dig in on his leg, but they catch on a plate of armor and squeeze until your fronds ache.

His hand is still on you; the longer you talk, the stranger he looks at you, not suspicious and demanding anymore, not blushing and confused. Just staring, taking you in like he doesn't know what you are.

"--He saw something and that motherfucker looked at me like I painted up and told him to tell me a joke and he just, fucking, put me away--" you catch yourself too late, bite the growl back and wince in guilt. You wouldn't get culled, for the prayers you make--the weak and scattered mirthful church can't make even a growl of a threat anymore. But law not leaned on is still a law when it counts. You've been well schoolfed how here, in the hive of the emperor who almost died on the empire's flogging jut, you're tasked to keep it well to your motherfucking self. (Like in shame, in SHAME of us, you should've seen our heights of motherfucking glory)

"He wouldn't lock you up just for that," says the Second Coming, and waves a hand, dismissing. He narrows his fire-red eyes at you. "...What else did you say he asked you? What's your sign."

Rage comes so sudden you don't recognize its face for a second--him asking you that, him, with those red eyes just like the motherfucker who stole what you were away from you. Force of it drives you up off your knees, out of your pretty, cringing kneel where you're supposed to be--rocks his chair back how hard you sink your dulled claws into the arms of it. Feels like something's pushing and tugging at you, laughing in your horns.

"Motherfucker, I don't have one!" you say between your fangs, and you see the very motherfucking second he looks at you and sees another troll looking back at him. His eyes go wider, his hands twitch for the sickles by his sides, but he doesn't draw them. "Don't have a name, don't have a sign, don't even have fucking sopor anymore! You're asking me?! What the fuck do I know? I'm the one owed answers, motherfucker, what am I even for anymore?! Why the fuck--!"

You get just a half a second to realize you raised your voice up to yelling--see him reaching up a hand for your face, looking at you like a battle he means to win--

Then something hits you like a hive falling, and everything goes black.

--

Gamzee: Wake up.

==> Where are you? ==> Who's yelling? ==> How fucked are you?

[START OVER]

#CYOA: Imperial Favor #Struggling!!!! Art is hard today for some reason. But I stay silly!!!!!!!!!! 💪💪💪 #thank you all for your lovely comments I am a small creature and have trouble keeping up motivation and the feedback is very appreciated #Hoping to at least get close to finishing up today! #I'll do my best!!